Uh-Oh … I Think I Just Screwed With the Luminosity of Spontaneous Presence
There was this vacancy in the corporate air.
Collisions with spontaneous emissions were occurring
even before the initial collisions occurred.
The aerodynamics were way screwed up!
I was totally screwed up.
You, on the other hand, were souped.
And I realized, suddenly,
that if we were The Love Boat, you'd be Julie.
That if you were to poop the rosy promise of techno junk,
minding its own business, drinking a cappuccino,
then I would have to hold my arms against my sides
and name myself Flipper.
I suddenly felt very ancient
and very very Buddhist.
Assuming the position of Christ on the cross,
you whispered, “Fag screwed up.”
The irony of the moment
did not escape me.
Like a Yakuza who will only ever use a plastic spoon,
you got me fucked up, jacked up, screwed up,
and warped in the Dollar Store.
The Eagles were rocking in the distance
with enough conceptual linearity to blow up the Earth.
This wouldn't have been so bad if a flaming liberal whack-job lightworker
hadn’t screwed up the economy with a luminous karate-chop
to the butthole of coffee ice cream.
The reason our world is so screwed up in the first place
is because coffee ice cream isn’t as dreamy as we had hoped.
Hell, I don't even like coffee ice cream.
But what if they screwed up Hot Chocolate?
Do you remember Julie Andrews and the von Trapp children
singing "Do, Re, Me .....” until the city was covered with
gamma ray crop circles?
In the meantime, the sleep architecture of rats
got messed up by the Times Online Spelling Bee.
Wow. How that sucked.
But it was because of all that that I learned
how a life filled with misery, hardship and ill-fortune,
can fulfill its potential by becoming a cappuccino, a latte,
or a macchiato,
birthed from the spirit world.
With the exception of the coffee version of Prince,
the brilliant luminosity that churns behind Penelope Cruise
is really the only thing that screws up my routine these days.
I’d punch her in the eye by accident
then shed tears for her barista.
Collisions with spontaneous emissions were occurring
even before the initial collisions occurred.
The aerodynamics were way screwed up!
I was totally screwed up.
You, on the other hand, were souped.
And I realized, suddenly,
that if we were The Love Boat, you'd be Julie.
That if you were to poop the rosy promise of techno junk,
minding its own business, drinking a cappuccino,
then I would have to hold my arms against my sides
and name myself Flipper.
I suddenly felt very ancient
and very very Buddhist.
Assuming the position of Christ on the cross,
you whispered, “Fag screwed up.”
The irony of the moment
did not escape me.
Like a Yakuza who will only ever use a plastic spoon,
you got me fucked up, jacked up, screwed up,
and warped in the Dollar Store.
The Eagles were rocking in the distance
with enough conceptual linearity to blow up the Earth.
This wouldn't have been so bad if a flaming liberal whack-job lightworker
hadn’t screwed up the economy with a luminous karate-chop
to the butthole of coffee ice cream.
The reason our world is so screwed up in the first place
is because coffee ice cream isn’t as dreamy as we had hoped.
Hell, I don't even like coffee ice cream.
But what if they screwed up Hot Chocolate?
Do you remember Julie Andrews and the von Trapp children
singing "Do, Re, Me .....” until the city was covered with
gamma ray crop circles?
In the meantime, the sleep architecture of rats
got messed up by the Times Online Spelling Bee.
Wow. How that sucked.
But it was because of all that that I learned
how a life filled with misery, hardship and ill-fortune,
can fulfill its potential by becoming a cappuccino, a latte,
or a macchiato,
birthed from the spirit world.
With the exception of the coffee version of Prince,
the brilliant luminosity that churns behind Penelope Cruise
is really the only thing that screws up my routine these days.
I’d punch her in the eye by accident
then shed tears for her barista.
posted by Sharon Mesmer at 1:34 PM
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