i don’t want to hear it
by a frightened boy
i can’t hear you because
i have a bag over my head
a bag made of dried leaves
and mud
and the spittle
from a frightened boy’s chin
by a frightened boy
i can’t hear you because
i have a bag over my head
a bag made of dried leaves
and mud
and the spittle
from a frightened boy’s chin
by Saint Peter
don’t ’bout your wings
or fancy flight
kn’own are your teeth
tear’n unto meat
gristl’d gr’ease
gerund’ing
sour slime
white sinew
don’t ‘ppoint woo
woo wan’t bite
wan’ step shit
of brok’d dreams
ooz’ed hay
fleck’n grief
squish’n
b’tween toes
“For more than a century, the art world has celebrated Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain. His work, simply a urinal signed and dated “R Mutt 1917”, is widely regarded as a pinnacle of 20th-century art, with a replica on display in Tate Modern, London. For some, Duchamp is the father of conceptualism, the so-called art of ideas. For others, he is a charlatan responsible for the demise of traditional artistry…”
“San Onofre”
He made hookers steal snooker tables, and his whole body had a toothache.
“Original Nothing”
Always on to something.
“Not Lost on Me”
She drank Baja blasts with Bradley Hexagon and the electric god humanoid design.
“Love”
A couples retreat in Mexico comprised of a Nazi, a Jewish man, and two Hispanic women on either side of the social spectrum, conducted by a Harvard grad, Protestant, Trump supporting immigration reformer.
“COM 101”
How to respond when fuckbois say “Bet.”
“Nursing Homes”
Continental army of incontinence, which we depend on for freedom.
by Mona Mehas
A fountain by any other name
is Marcel’s urinal
Duchamp’s latrine
baby boy’s potty
old man’s throne
drunkard’s pisser
European’s loo
every man’s can.
Begs the question, what is art?
by Erwin Dink
archaic mullet stomped
acclimated helm sprout
calculated mosh permit
by Mona Mehas
Take the word, progress
Pro is a prefix
The opposite of pro is con
So, the opposite of progress is Congress
by Ash K. Gray
And so I dipped my pen in sauce
and wrote some food for thought.
Whatever I laid down, man,
they (?
— — — ?) went ahead and bought.
Little did they ( same they?
— — — — — — — — — — ? ) know that all I did
was dip my pen in fucking sauce and close the lid.
by Mona Mehas
LIFE
confused
labyrinth
word-searched my way through
lines around my eyes, proof
humbled by enormity
individual existence
by Eric Jennings
(e)go-(e)go
di-di
(id-id)
by Eric Jennings
it makes a difference
if you touch the ashes
i did not touch the ashes
by Erwin Dink
/u/spez/posts
eyelash of my enemy
club twit
by Erwin Dink
entropy engine
rich people in a paper mache sub
elfin thyme