Archive for the funny noises Category


Posted in funny noises, is it really real?, this living is less than loving, what the hell is wrong with me? on October 16, 2012 by matt questionmark

vicious lines through the consciousness
they divide the light
they divide the color
sharp hearts
bleeding course dust
cutting the veins of this internal existence
corpse love
the backwards romances that followed
empty as the tank in the car I’ll never have
limp dicking through reality
wishing the past was the present
denying the fact that sometimes things just die
if only we could just get over this whole attachment to others deal
if only dreams were real
/these giant pink slits in the black nucleus of my fullness
of the dark matter
that seeps through us all/
-this all said by a 6 year old me, in singsong voice, walking through the dark brush, in October, he acted out, as if it was a choice-



Haiku for Nico

Posted in exploding heart, funny noises, is it really real? on June 28, 2011 by matt questionmark

This new nothingness
Filibusters soft voices
Releasing my growl

Boredom Has a Taste

Posted in funny noises on October 16, 2008 by thirdcircuit

He pulled up against the curb and parked. In his rear view he saw that there was a security guard walking toward his car and then realized that maybe he wasn’t supposed to park there. But never mind, he figured. Normally in a situation like this he’d just take the ticket. It involved handing it to his secretary and the matter would be resolved. Ten dollars he would never miss would disappear from one of his accounts and he wouldn’t even know when. He paid somebody to know when. Paid them to stress out over it so he didn’t have to. And there’s a certain beauty to the arrangement whereby someone’s family is fed and all this person has to do is chew on the nuts and bolts of boring numbers – numbers in such supply that they had finally just become tedious. Success, was the word for it. But that is not what he was thinking about at the moment. He was thinking that the security guard who was approaching, the security guard who was now tapping on his driver’s side window, was familiar. He knew him, but he never knew him to be so goddamn pushy. To have the balls to tap on his (MY) fucking window. “Sir you will have to move your car.” “I’ll only be ten minutes.” “And that will be just long enough for us to tow the vehicle. And I’d be happy to give you the phone number to where we’ll take it if it pleases you to not move your car……Sir.” “Who the fuck are……………” he was about to ask when there was a tap on the passenger side window. The situation had taken a different shape. It had been lifted out of the security guard’s hands. And the guard was glad about it. It was fun and all to push and pull a little, but not his job. Someone else would be explaining how profoundly things had changed in the gentleman’s absence. Sir.

my penis this, my penis that… berka der….

Posted in funny noises, lost in these purposes and collecting ours on September 21, 2008 by tony saputo

it is fun to play the jester
brushing the universe off your shoulders
dying alone, the masks bulletin my story

the laughing humanist who fails miserably
the suckling that lets my own make be
pure annihilating anguish to be led by bitter hops and stomach ulcers

you cannot replace a heart full of wine with a glass of water
and you cannot fill veins with enough homecomings and love
to make it worthwhile

and this soul, proudly despising
still has to deal with this truth
the iris is absent and cannot see what is happening

the deteriorating stature of someone to be proud of?
the collapse of my very own persona
is this worth the infinite compress upon what i bear?

i was tossed to the pits
but the jaws will not gnash no matter what
to exist is to be cursed and in conclusion, ruined

i am looking at the sun waiting for an explosion
viewing the world as the agreed uncompleted spectrum
i know you never saw this

praying for a red to come over
and make everyone forget
to pass on and

at 6:47am today i sat i my car and realized
that everything is a farce
i am still in love

waking in my bed, looking through the window
the lights dance on bricks and sore concrete
it is telling me to wait and to fade away

praying to have this taken
i had given all
so like a legend or the Chinaski inside me

i fade out.
knowing that this is not reality or dream
no longer opaque but transient

know i have memorized every line and detail;the retinas know me as i them
but i would gladly never smile again for an infinite hope or wisdom
for every face i have ever loved to forget me, and i them.