drat fink

wait until dark

tear jerker

Report: Gen X Irony, Cynicism
May Be Permanently Obsolete

AUSTIN, TX— According to Generation X sources, the recent attack on America may have rendered cynicism and irony permanently obsolete. "Remember the day after the attack, when all the senators were singing 'God Bless America,' arm-in-arm?" asked Dave Holt, 29. "Normally, I'd make some sarcastic wisecrack about something like that. But this time, I was deeply moved." Added Holt: "This earnestness can't last forever. Can it?"

caught in a spyders web

how many cliches can i rend in an hour
glassy eyed

the light
whiter than white

i remember how that damn thing
would never give me any peace

a plastic smile
why wont you cooperate

ive always been a big fan

well blow me down

staggering
do you shop at macy's gray

i know its purple again
but then purple it must be

wideyed widowed

all eyes on me
framed

why are you riding so fast
if i move slow i lose focus

at the crosswalk

flinched
slowdown
hit the skids
too late

i think its leaking brake fluid

an extenuated circumstance

the cloistered
the cloak that wears you
reduced to must
its over whats due
your risque brass
blotted out the seen
half hearted flags
drip drop droop

drat fink

something to say
somethng to say
something to say

do you hear me? do you care?

nothing to say
now except
good bye

windowdressing

cut the genes in my dreams
the splice of life

drew queens in spades
jack-the-knife

with the means to remain
gone to blazes

"excelsior!" he cried.

the fire is out

the cow goes.....moo

there is no ART in Eye
...only (are there) advertisements
....................................... the dog barks...woof
for SenseSorry Depredation
...................................Dissimulation
................. A CATALOGUE OF
..............A FELLOWSHIP oF FENESTRATION
............ A DESULTORY
NATRALIST

grease paint
hard hat
yellow tape

Can i See your ID?

mortars....motors
.......interregnum........
is there a draft in here?

a wake board

......................wee the peeple wee the purpil wee the pupal

am i still dreaming yet?

stealing away
undeclared
concrete rivers
pitchblende
a false seance
of insecurity

shall i take the window or the stairs?

5% solution

for what its worth
this dolorous guile

a renewed silence
a retread smile

broken spells
movement swells

an overture rests
on an undercard

untoward

unglued, unmoved

under arrested

*** flash ***

THIS CRASs CART

its not enough

the suspense is killing me

the law of diminishing returns

i thought we had a deal
without a party to the second part appeal
but now that courting is done
and theres one that has one
its apart thats a whole left to feel

the awful chance

jiffy lewd aptitude
my carp(e) beyond repatriation
aft and soothed, a latin altitude
aladins spectral dispensation

disconsolation prize

strike through the common weal
the welter of waits
welded together

palmed strands grate
a heretical e-notion
windows are weathered

benjamin bussed
lost in the rust
er nurses the burns

rollers...coasters
the trojans are hoarse
the geldings meeting adjourned

insoluble

shaken to the corpus
warring fractions

mistaken and unwakened
coiled inaction

brokered no pieces
misaligned in the breaches

its never alright
twice its happened

twin towers

(id be)lying (if i) didnt say (id been) torn asunder

a blunder

return to sender

may i please have another

(thank you)

taking notes

on point

janes says

black on the outside

scoop poop

fire sale

tap into america

another poorly considered war

jingo bop

pigeon alert

angle of incidence

i and i

northern skies

"Aye we have found him, the fair young face
Turned to the pitiless Afghan skies
The frost bound earth for a resting place
Dead--with the horror of death in his eyes."

lost horizon

OZYMANDIAS

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said, Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert...Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lips and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandius, king of kings.
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair."
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

sign on

bin there

back it up

kernal quagmire

new morning

no joke

privates school

editorial bored