tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-239688672011-12-13T12:41:08.675-08:00Mmmmm yucky wetabix. Eat all you want. Watch out for the spikey bits.Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.comBlogger1031100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-84262433325062414002011-12-13T12:40:00.000-08:002011-12-13T12:41:08.685-08:00

A little scratch it can ratchetTo a full blown infection.The week and the weakened Deserved our protection.We stood by, and we watched it,Now we want salvation.As the recession deepensWe fight the predation,As the banks and the richAre circling the nation,Hoarding jobs, stealing freedoms,And evading taxation.Why didn’t we ever stop and think,Society’s only as strong as it’s weakest link.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-13390238916598090242011-03-26T02:53:00.000-07:002011-08-13T05:39:54.573-07:00

Mother. Buckle loosened, your amniotic burden shifts, Your taut flesh ripples and salty swells heave. You groan and shudder, skulls crush and bones cleave. Breathless, the blue red bloody unraveling begins. Phobos, Deimos, Mars, sunrise, unquenchable fires, Fissures, ruptures, the crushing pain torn lode. Mother. Your tears.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-88204990748160169072009-04-23T01:31:00.000-07:002009-04-23T01:37:08.312-07:00

Have created a new blog featuring various groups in which I have been involved, and also many of the poems here, as a source of lyrics, for more recent solo works under the Crunchy Weta monicker.Step into the tardis.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-68257109625099818172008-07-05T17:38:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.437-07:00

Call me a skepticbut I was untouchedby your dramatic performance.Untouched tooby the toxic bilemasquerading as truthyou disengorgedfrom that grotesque crevicebetween your bitter lips......lips that once softened hardnessand ravaged mortal dreams.Call me a skeptic,but I was never awarethat nagging vanitiesare cause for an affair.Download the audio here

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-57023609175422341412008-07-05T17:16:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:43:16.913-07:00

I was annoyed, mostly, I realized, because I was impressed.His reputation, even among his few remaining supporters.....Immune! Christ, somehow there was enough money floatingTo give away a shilling or to do a good action.Provoke him and he will buckle to a shark,Appear, to survey, to bless, to command; dominus and domaine.Always intrudes and imposes his views,His face, 'Take a look.' All at once

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-60950419524731731792008-07-05T17:12:00.000-07:002008-07-05T17:16:48.898-07:00

The Prime Minister, performing perfunctorilypassed through my class.Short.Softly spoken.Closeted by her henchman,Glazed with indifference,Pausing to ask a question,Verging on the rhetorical,Interest ephemeral.Perhaps she caught my cold.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-5441782647919395482007-09-09T01:08:00.000-07:002007-09-09T01:25:21.701-07:00

Bryanna.How preciousYour blanket wrappedPrancing jumpskip excitement.Our little back porch expeditionsto watch crawling dark devourDelicious strawberry moon.And,The Milky Way tickled your palette.The milky way?... oooh The Milky Way!How long until your faccia rossaWill pass through life's umbraUnable to savour galactic fareBut reflected throughYour child's shining moonlit eyes.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-85111937417761356912007-07-26T16:40:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.491-07:00

Watching fog's first veil rising timidlyFrom grassy paddock's patchesSweeping surreptitiously around the shy valley,I am reminded of smokers, sitting outside cafesTrying to hide their guilty secretsIn awkward, downturned, downwind hands,Novice gambler's hands.I am reminded that the Milky WayOnce wafted over the Southern CrossBefore being stolen by city lights.How I long to see smokers standing

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-47096398843660946712007-06-29T17:47:00.000-07:002007-06-30T22:48:41.376-07:00

Asphalt steers me from Mamaku to ReporoaAcross this country's naked heartPulse exposed, beaten by Maui's brothersTendered with Aroha.Mamaku mountainettes, an ancient valley of kingsMysterious geyser tombs, or mudpools, or mini-volcanoesCalling down the frosts, fogs and cloudsThe old one's mantle of mana.And you, Ngongotaha, Es tu kia kahaProud amongst your peoplesHead in the cloudsOn days you cry

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-46736329680713039372007-05-07T03:42:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.439-07:00

High in the hillsThoughts come slowlyClouds rush by.Ambling drifts of nameless daysRoll nature's kaleidoscopeThen rumble into townAn avalanche of need.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-33393672009423670992007-05-07T03:38:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.439-07:00

Today, rain's grey monologueTucks me sweetly, gentlyUnder Morphia's fleecy billow.Today, work can waitThe bellbirds are quiet asEarth and sky are truced.Soft the greySoft the greySoft the grey.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-21108783672253424492007-05-07T03:30:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.492-07:00

In MamakuVerdant perspecacityWarmed by honey teaCity sickness leaving me;Time pinched cluttered brainBattery housingMoving metal thingsTemples pulsing neighbour's thoughtsPickled lungs particulate matterThe droning droning droneSurreal fields of mallsShop forest pathsFood eating hallsHow strange, trainedTwo legged ratsDriving in mazesRacing their wheels.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-17853228603640943102007-02-26T02:20:00.000-08:002009-06-13T03:45:56.440-07:00

Hefting my carriageFrom the seas salt laden sanctuaryMy Dayself as exposedAs the eternal shadowsCast on Hiroshima's wallsI know I am not enlightened.My Nightself - my eyesBow uncomfortably'Neath beauty's harsh lightSeeking Bolle-yellow relief.How many comments, and looks,Slid over meBefore I began to careBlinded and bound by conformity's rack.Under night's majesty and graceI forget myselfDancing

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-51141480647346388062007-02-12T02:55:00.000-08:002009-06-13T04:07:13.492-07:00

The congealed despairOf amputees' prayerStaining the collection plateA bowl in the rainUnder umbrella's train.White coated doctorsArmed with syringesLoaded with miraclesBattling the scourgesExorcising, healingNot wielding or yieldingCloth bound superstition.The lone man who missed his flightRinged by 357 flaming remainsOf those who didn't.Concentric waves of stillbornDiseased famined and

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-88941697873804327152007-02-12T02:49:00.000-08:002009-06-13T04:07:13.493-07:00

The incident was incidentalThe result resultantOn a roundaboutTaking her outOn you.Initialised by her eyesHair there and everywhereMy mishmash headlong crashSolved unresolvedTaking you outOn her.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-22644186529036233202007-02-12T02:46:00.000-08:002009-06-13T04:07:13.493-07:00

Big cogs, little cogsUnbroken karmic cyclesHigh wire through fireFree wheelin horn tootinBell ringin crowd pleasinHigh fivin harlequinianClowns on wheels.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1166733100155527572006-12-21T12:27:00.000-08:002009-06-13T04:05:34.871-07:00

Gleefullyshe spins profuselydiffusing energyrandomlyin a bounded spacenever to cross paths.Her partnerin this magnetic momenttumbles synchronouslyminds melded fast-er than light.Distance shared-sheareddistance sheda tear for the lawsof mindsblind to the heartof this matter.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1166696815799727622006-12-21T02:18:00.000-08:002006-12-21T03:31:47.996-08:00

Livid stops garish spritesCascading neophytesFool spectre deliveryCount the cells in cider meCorpus collosal menagerie.Fate dashed upon the rocksBoot straps to the chin upsBest forward it footDown the tracked one mindFound alone I die aloneRanger than strictionNarcisstic addictionPleased to meet meFor all internally.A scratch looking for an itchBurning touch tapping dripA head by a nose you

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1163504557269196072006-11-14T03:19:00.000-08:002006-11-14T04:52:17.550-08:00

The juiciest part of the snailIs just beneath the shell.Moving house is metamorphicI have spun myself into a cocoonThe tattered hoardings of yesteryear.Departure lounge:Bittersweet letters of first love lostUnread for a quarter century,Posters of bands long defunct,Shelves of books read,Bus tickets, bar coasters, keys, id cardsEphemeral jetsetting tokens,Lecture notes no longer understood,

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1163503151597094802006-11-14T03:10:00.000-08:002009-06-13T03:45:56.441-07:00

Apartment blocks shoulder to shouldercraning necks for better glimpseslistening to strenuous motorwaysarticulating anger and aggressioncarrying auto corpuscular mobiles.The city's pacemaker disgorgesclogging congested arterialsfeeding suburban organsinfusing tissues and viscera -a land long strippedof lush.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1163285141462876132006-11-11T14:44:00.000-08:002006-11-11T14:55:51.346-08:00

Her pet Ipod nibbles on her tiny earsWhispering sweet nothings.Her thumb dances nimblyTextualizing shallow depthsOf superficial intimacyShared through the ether.She waits urgently for the next hitOf belonging.The long forgotten question "why"Lies gnarled and arthritic in a drawerBeneath her premillennial photographs-on paper!Of bare footed daysAnd birthday partiesWith homemade cakesAnd laughing

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1161771166530941902006-10-25T03:03:00.000-07:002006-12-26T15:04:42.396-08:00

Shut up. Just shut the fuck up!For christs sake stop snivellin.WhackI don't care.Stay covered in shit.You'll bloody well learn.Whump.You want clean,I'll give you bloody clean.And stop your mangy whimpering.You little shit.Aww burny burnyPoor baby fucken burny.CrunchNow shut up you hear.I better not hear another fucken sound.CrackYou little shit.Hope you fucken die.Come on mate, crack open another

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1160051666031811342006-10-05T04:53:00.000-07:002006-10-05T05:37:03.590-07:00

How painful, how embareassing.To the first doctor:Great, you would be one of the parentson my playcentre session.To the second doctor:You were nice.To the third doctor:You cracked me upasking if you could butt inbecause you had heard about me.To the nurse:Thanks for taking two attempts to find a vein.Thanks for being so cool. I almost thought it normalto feel like I was having a heart attackafter

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1159355771026801552006-09-27T04:02:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.494-07:00

Man created robots after his own image,in his divine image he created them.And all the robotsWere in communion.And those lookingfor lovesat on the leftin rows.And those seekingidentitysat in the middleattentive.And those googlingreasonsat on the rightreflecting.And the losersstood at the rearwith the programmaladapts.And how the midi enableddid manifesttheir unisonin heavenly chorus.And how the

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1158583002983118612006-09-18T05:23:00.000-07:002006-09-18T05:36:43.026-07:00

Being differentIs a crimeTo be the sameIs quite insaneSo feel freeTo take the pillsGet wired upTo cure yo' ills(And help the doctor pay the bills)There's no doubtWho'll win this gameTo crush the spiritWith your name.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1158582212136239452006-09-18T05:21:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.442-07:00

Call me a skepticbut I was untouchedby your dramatic performance.Untouched tooby the toxic bilemasquerading as truthyou disengorgedfrom that grotesque crevicebetween your bitter lips......lips that once softened hardnessand ravaged mortal dreams.Call me a skeptic,but I was never awarethat nagging vanitiesare cause for an affair.(Poem had to include the words toxic, aware, ravaged, dramatic and

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1158324680608954882006-09-15T05:51:00.000-07:002006-09-15T05:57:10.023-07:00

This universefits togetherthough no two piecesare the same.This hand writes wordsthough no two atomsactually touch.This heart feels lovethough love itselfhas no matter.This life is minethough it existsonly through sharing.What can I give youyou don't already have?

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1158324366548051182006-09-15T05:45:00.000-07:002006-09-15T05:50:52.920-07:00

Seems there's a conspiracyOn display for all to seeA secret love societyUsing rhyme in poetry.The way they make their couplets danceSeems more to me than just plain chanceWith meaning deep beyond first glanceA tryst of words and circumstance.On a tennis green so well madeA finer match was never playedLove Love all upon the gladeAnd then a fond adieu was bade.Now those of us here held in thrallCan

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1157630205235966782006-09-07T04:23:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.495-07:00

Is it karmathat begets beggarsfor faults deserved.Is it expectationthat given is gotfor good deeds donein triple wicca fashionor orange robes woundround rotund non-desires.Is it desire to be lovedinsisting assistanceupon others less lovedor less able.Aren't you the dearattracting lion eyesexposing your rumpis it your turn to jump.Are you the centre where universal lovedrops in and outbecause

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1157370809220563502006-09-04T04:49:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.495-07:00

SensationPerceptionConceptionComparisonAcception/RejectionTransmissionAcception/RejectionSocial conditionScience/religionStruck by lightningGod did it/electrocutionDeadLike all my pretty bubbles.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1157370430914581642006-09-04T04:45:00.000-07:002006-09-04T04:47:10.946-07:00

I am not here today.Silencefills my mindwith thoughtsposing their veracity.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1157026838811139642006-08-31T05:11:00.000-07:002006-08-31T05:21:38.163-07:00

The policeman, tears flowing,scanned the dark horizon.Glue."Time out for a joint.",Glue."Safer than crack in space."Glue.It's glue that holds the tracks and cracksof our livestogether.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1156935545247233082006-08-30T03:58:00.000-07:002006-08-30T04:05:47.976-07:00

one dayyou toomayfly(In reply to Housemouse - Brevity)

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1156768283254381662006-08-28T05:24:00.000-07:002006-08-28T05:33:09.410-07:00

As the shutters openI become porous anewYour my thoughtsArouse relaxationFiltering darknessWandering along a trackSpritely on the still softAnd sphagnumPlaying limpetWith the mighty onesInhalingRich, red, resinsMy your wordsAlighting softly aglowTender upon our koru.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1156767836844869242006-08-28T05:17:00.000-07:002006-08-28T05:23:56.866-07:00

Just a wee note to thank Billy for his link to Forward Press in the UK. They are publishing one of my poems (Lighten Your Load: Go Easy On Yourself) in their book "Inspired Reflections 2007". This will be my first so I just might have a wee glass of wine to celebrate. My advice - listen to your mayor!

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1155206307347086792006-08-10T03:00:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.496-07:00

Sulfur crowned gannetsRaining like brimstoneHaving sown wild oatsTwo thousand km awayHoning their flintsWith pearlers and boundersReturn to fight, for aPlace in purgatoryTheir mere centimetres squareOf guano-coated bedrockSpearhead since '95......Muriwai...... one of those sugary crystal ray daysOn a roll, you stroll down the beachTo the praise of the wavesWhere they overtake the islandWith

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1155203984322577602006-08-10T02:57:00.000-07:002006-08-10T02:59:44.346-07:00

I know a man who isn't hereI rather doubt he's anywhereFor those of you who do not knowThat man was made all out of snow.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1153910259156215942006-07-26T03:32:00.000-07:002006-07-26T03:37:39.156-07:00

Words are like lavasometimes a red hot liquidsometimes hard as rock

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1153744906120524122006-07-24T05:20:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.496-07:00

Dimension 0: From the void , the point of my existence.Dimension 1: The line - the big I. I am.Dimension 2: Fragments of being. My mind is split, my heart is broken. Continents drifting apart on a mapDimension 3: Turning in space. Your image frozen. A collection of movie stills.Dimension 4: The life I lead. My tube connects with yours, intersecting at stations.Dimension 5: Choices made. Or not.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1153215257046721482006-07-18T02:22:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.497-07:00

For Ashraf and familyI remember walking, then nothing, thena crack thud cacophony and unholy heatflesh rent and welded, yieldingmacabre meat mash sculpturescarelessy flung upon adze edged moundsex-spaces ex-homes ex-lives ex-posed.With nacrous eyes and metallic mouth I rose.I noted my legs moved - but not for long.I collapsed, grateful for the advice to lie down,and the warm blanket offered.In

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1153049814283094682006-07-16T04:01:00.000-07:002006-07-24T05:55:12.883-07:00

Welcome to Ringing Of The Bards IV.Tonight we have a feast of poetry for your enjoyment and consideration. Before we begin I would just like to extend our best wishes to a few poet's family members. To Scheherazade's mother who is not well, to my own father who is in hospital, and to Ashraf's family who have been living in Beirut. Those of you accustomed to saying grace before eating may wish to

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1152581023774819992006-07-10T18:18:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.444-07:00

You were a petulant childWhen you cut your mother's apron stringsOn July 4th.Free at lastTo carve your wayTo riches and gloryThrough native landsYanking God's bellsWith chains of black men:Mass productionAnd mass destruction.Now look at you.Liberty:Free to bear arms and killIn your own countryOr any other of your choosing.Free to ignore the United NationsAnd global warming.Free to consumeForty

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1152560090774394642006-07-10T12:29:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.498-07:00

Enough navel gazing and grazing.Name the game then do what you do.It's time to dance with the flowersand play with the auras of treesand focus the will: get on with the givingandDripDripDripfeedand bend and stretch and bend and stretch andDripDripDripfeed.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1152280482294309842006-07-07T06:53:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.445-07:00

For Leigh Who Was There.She, garbed in velvet dressesStrawberry blonde her crowning tresses- fire and ice - sugar and spiceConstructed herself a castle.A fortress with walls of her own logicReinforced by twisted steel.Below, the foundations,Dark dungeons of despicable depravityWhere demons lurked and gnawed.Above, turrets of torments past,Always on the lookout.She cherished her precious red

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1152016544985049922006-07-04T05:30:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.498-07:00

Another rainy Macy Graymusic dripping downtearing, rendering anewa wine bottle collageharvests forgottenContinued writing the book"Everything I Ever Thought"Unabridged, unadorned'a manual of slothosophyexistential reality tacticsAs I remember onenessthere is nothing to be relativetime stops and ego dissolvesYet. There is a fluidityin the rigidityof still life.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1152016036042905532006-07-04T04:40:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.446-07:00

Or: Occaional snapshots from a journey through the heartlands of old poetry.Sometimes you do it..have a cringefest revisiting old poems. It's like reading an old diary, complete with secret marks to hide your innermost fears - should the diary ever fall into the wrong hands. I have just undertaken such a journey after reading a recent post in the most excellent Po'et`ship. You are invited to take

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1151498395292209122006-06-28T05:39:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.446-07:00

Through a pale green moonlit nightwith bright shining mindsthey descended.Tails erectall whiskered vanitiesand sleek furs.Perfect four pawed landings.The GodsSphinx: Overseer of stone and sand.KukulKhan: Whitefoot Cloudwalker-illuminant snake eyed sisterThe KingsJungles and mountainsSavannah and suburbiaPsychic black witchesMonks without bowlsObservers, companions,Teachers.The CoolThe poets and

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1151231585335531042006-06-25T03:17:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.499-07:00

Do not think of a shadowDo not visualise a rainbowDo not imagine a vacuumDo not wonder if she was rightDo not picture inside of a circleDo not feel your breath inhaleDo not remember a lost loveDo not calculate one minus oneDo not conceive of starving millionsDo not envisage a dinosaurDo not consider global warmingDo not reflect upon your imageDo not do what I tell you to doThink for yourself.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1150895099802280272006-06-21T05:59:00.000-07:002006-06-21T06:04:59.826-07:00

I hope death has timeTime to answer questions.The evidence suggestsThe universe is accelerating:Time is going fasterPeople are getting massive.As I finish re-searching the fridgeI consider other weighty matters:To where do Buddhists retreatWhy am I attracted to fridge magnetsWho bought 12 billion bullets last yearWhy do mirrors reflect left and rightBut not up and down.I hope death isn't hungry.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1150716514682910852006-06-19T04:13:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.447-07:00

In the slowly pulsing red mistThe poet walks the walkWhere others fear to treadThrough the dark alleys and engramsOf his mynds patina.He stops at a sign !WARNING! Gravity Time LawNurture Nature ConsciencePossessions Body WordsHoping for a dream of freedomHe falls asleep.The Earth is an orangeOverpopulated with mouldIt shrinks then collapsesInto a primordial soupOf reduced complexityThe life

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1150199672123490552006-06-13T04:46:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.500-07:00

I want to be clear, like the chandelierrattling in the empty spacefrom whence my brain is absentwith windowpanes illuminating the interiorsockets in my empty facescoured by an icy wind's glint.And when I am clear, I will roamunhindered by sanity and illusiondisrobed of time's baubly raimentstunneling gravity's unlikely boundariesemerging slippery and wet, wriggling,a worm cast from your smile.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1149597204428237132006-06-06T05:29:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.500-07:00

The light from a billion galaxiesIs eclipsed by your luminosity.The Earth , attracted to your essenceCannot think to leave your presence.The moon, entranced, brings gifts of wavesAnd helps the sun to light your way.So take the light and take the weightAnd to yourself be trueThe universe that you createAll comes back to you.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1149559943254163562006-06-05T19:07:00.000-07:002006-06-05T19:14:26.760-07:00

My minions you arenot aloudthis read. itwillmess with your rhyme and.rhythm.oh sincofants andex-syncopats. welcometo yourantiverse.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1149553057714270632006-06-05T17:08:00.000-07:002006-06-05T18:24:06.323-07:00

Its official, Crunchy Weta is an offworlder.Is it just my imagination, or is this another New Zealand on Titan?To view the video..Thanks toRussell for the link to Nasa.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1149506557242188472006-06-05T04:08:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.501-07:00

BLUENARCYSkies of blueEyes of blueBlue suede HawaiianBlue moon blues"There ain't been no womanNo there ain't been no womanLord there ain't been no womanOn the mooo ooo oo oo oon"Blue Meaning On a bellyache of blue meaningShiva began his danceA blur of blue armsin rhythm with the treesamidst an azure washedsea of reality.He observed his fingers play bassMingusly melding sounds and surroundsperhaps

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1149336079972026772006-06-03T04:44:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.501-07:00

Fly little mountain flake, be freeWander amongst raindrops and mountain tops For this is your dream. I have seen light sparkle, soul reflectedFrom a perfect crystalAs you fluttered and twirled your path along.Oh why, why, white fairyDid you so gently alight upon my cheekKnowing the fate my warmth would bring...Before you roll down my face, a tear, Dearest

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1149168679255501762006-06-01T06:21:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.449-07:00

Screaming red fluidEmergency ward sunsetApple bobbing razorsKaitaia Fire chilly sauceThe jaws of lifeCherry Moana BrandyBurning a passionlit candleRising temperature thermometerA muscle of magmaNo longer a virginEscape from PMTHand meats mouthMartian root canalGlass iron rocketsGoodnight Bela LugosiThe bloody part of hell.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1149077241946806562006-05-31T04:55:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.502-07:00

At the first and last postmodern exhibitionI could not see 'Pure Black'Nor get the measure of 'The Vacuum'I could not explain 'Anything'As I didn't know 'Everything'I wasted some time on 'Prepost Redundancy''The Source Of Light In Dreams' mystifiedAnd 'Anhedonia' numbed meThe moment I was aware of 'Perception'It became 'A Memory'The statue 'Vito Scotti Eating A Clown'Left a funny taste in my

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1148992274238342202006-05-30T05:04:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.502-07:00

The path I am onpasses through every point in the universe.In my dreamsEinstein mocks me"That could take a long time"His knowledge of the universe seems bigger than the universe.In my dreamsThe particulate energies of my existencescatter randomlythen suddenly freezeat the moment of maximum randomnessexactly equidistant.In my dreamsI see how little I can say about nothingI can't stop thinking

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1148472646450262132006-05-24T05:03:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.450-07:00

I can't stand snap happylap dogs yappinme too me toolook at me.Make mine asensitive fire-huggin wolfhoundx pipe smokin slipper fetchin setterx Jah lovin wooly pulix pug ugly bulldogx manic border collie eatin machinex snow eyed malamutex sneaky pushy psychic dobermanx slobberin simple bull mastiffx stupid car chasin spanielx colourful troubador's bitzerx St Bernard drinkin buddyx comfortable ol

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1148207589231012202006-05-21T03:27:00.000-07:002006-05-21T05:00:04.760-07:00

Instructions: Arrange the lines of this poem in any order you find pleasing. To increase world peace and understanding, pass your version on to a friend and ask them to do the same :-)On the seven board of cunningYou can arrange the piecesWith geographic diplomacyTo make different shapesIf your mind is agileThe continents move soWhen the people are at peace

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1148178427607448022006-05-20T19:14:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.503-07:00

Most of my robots are armed and armoured.My next one shouldStand next to a half full trolleyin a supermarket car parksuspiciously studying a docket.It shouldEnjoy the particular orange lightafter a stormbefore sunset.It shouldDisplay a studied nonchalancewhen caughtpicking its noseat traffic lights.It shouldEat the last piece of cakewith Clint Eastwood cool.It shouldEnjoy standingin steaming cow

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1147913276537731932006-05-17T17:40:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.451-07:00

You began as a blank sheet.By the time he'd finishedwriting your lifeyou wished his pencil led headhad had an eraser,so he wouldn't havescribbled all over youor lefttrails of white stuffdenying, scarring,what was.Just his practice sheet.A discarded rough copyof his Sermon on the Mount.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1147737092496259872006-05-15T16:44:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.451-07:00

Woke up this morningand got out of bedrolled up a jointand got out of my headThe sun comes shiningover my windowsillI know I mightBaby I know I willCosIm so-o stonedouta my mindWoke up this morningand I had a cuppa teaIts not the normal typeI know you'll seecos it's made from mushroomsI picked by handI know babythat you'll understandThatI'm so-o zonedouta my mindWoke up this morningBaby you

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1147736645869685882006-05-15T16:39:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.451-07:00

Interstellar overdriveInterstellar babyKeep my soul aliveInterstellarGo a million miles an hourWe got the power of loveWe'll ride for hours in myInterstellar overdriveInterstellar babyKeep your soul aliveSee the starsThey're shining just for youWe got the power of loveWe got the do do do do do...

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1147695273940773782006-05-15T05:10:00.000-07:002006-05-15T15:39:48.170-07:00

Eat this meal of loveand forgiveness,And judge not Judassteadfast and strong,his faithfulnessbeyond devotion.Our fatealityhis thorny crown.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1147694991724811432006-05-15T05:05:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:40:45.157-07:00

This morning momentI returnWearied from my nocturnal exertions.AppeasersImitatorsSeducersBeware- the hunter tracks your pretences,Nostrils flaring, saliva glistening,At the scent of your social graces.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1147259158207664652006-05-10T03:59:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.504-07:00

i tire of inane questianityreligious certaintymisleading synchronicityperfect idealityfactual pomposityalternative realityTo Bill i say just let me be.Its true i have an arrangementwith fliesbut mosquitoes buzz and bitescoffing at all entreatyso i kill them.The existence of a godor eternal lifematter not one whitif you live your life best that you see fit.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1147256450008691902006-05-10T03:15:00.000-07:002006-05-10T03:23:16.500-07:00

Its not crueltythat makes me lingerupon your breathless impatience.Its part masteryfingertip controlthe striking of taut piano strings.Its part pleasureLost to time and spaceSemibreves and quavers of whorls and ridges.Its part imaginationI am you am mea span shuddered by unison souls.As dewdrop to the mighty seas,A linger to your fevered please.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1147176093696152462006-05-09T04:52:00.000-07:002006-05-09T22:55:25.926-07:00

We are betrayed by your flinch.Me a grotesque monstertearing wings from butterfliesto smear their scalesacross my jagged soulYou a chrysalis of unresolved damageliving in the pastconfused by the flashesof your confident lashesWe fixed each other a little.But we should quit now.Icarus was not as bright as the sun.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1147085092196692252006-05-08T03:40:00.000-07:002006-05-08T04:04:29.146-07:00

Ahhh IcyAqueous Humourone drip to anotherOhh Ohh, what arime sublimeIn Reply to Fickle Trickle

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1146851999272004382006-05-05T10:28:00.000-07:002006-05-05T14:06:21.460-07:00

For poetry enthusiatstoday is national slow poetry dayso go aheadlentement lentementgive some mindful masticationlet the word sauce dribbleas they perambulate peristalticallyto oesophagus's underworldawash in your acidtheir vitality absorbedfeel their nourishmentsense their resonancetheir rhythmon your palettepass some on(to a friend)

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1146743586535743612006-05-04T04:45:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.452-07:00

Fatty fatty two by fourCan't fit through the bathroom door.Funny the first two hundred times.Ten ton rubber bumLeaves no room for anyone.Hilarious the first two hundred times.Mama Cass, Fatty Arbuckle, Billy Bunter,Fatso, fatty, fatguts, blubberboy,Gutso, fatarse, fatshit, lardo,Lardarse, meatloaf, big guy,Pig , piggy, pigguts,Useless , lazy, go on a diet,Glenn , Glenn the big fat hen.Cracked me

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1146293678918069812006-04-28T23:49:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:54:08.515-07:00

Secretly he captures youTelescopic lens with film.He holds the negativesIn the palm of his hand.They havePhotons...Photons that once touched you.Reflected, absorbed, you.His little ray of sunshine.In the palm of his hand.He has youIn his blood lit dark room mind.In the palm of his hand.Photon Ed, he's wrong in the head,Photon Ed, he wants you......Snap.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1146228132931447842006-04-28T05:39:00.000-07:002011-08-11T01:18:53.349-07:00

She, eyes so desirous, serpentine hair, sitting there arms outstretched, dangling asps, a balancing scale , measuring me in the glasshouse where men may stay but not live. He, brute strengthed bully, horns erect, you chased me to the congregation next door who entered in pink silks and left in blue. I should have faced you. Am I ever to meet your ilk again?

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1146227733331700962006-04-28T05:32:00.000-07:002006-04-28T05:53:07.530-07:00

A scar that has healedis just that much tougherthan your innocent self,speaks silently of life livedaudaciously if incautiouslyvoraciously not vicariously.Your wound isintimate not distant,forgetting is easyremembering hardPain belongs to your bodyIt is not you.Pain is separation.Thank you.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1146226928276216482006-04-28T05:21:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.504-07:00

Seeking inspirationI retreat to my back porchon a moondog misty night.I drawfrom a cigarette, unfetteredby authoritarian longevitists.My feet cool on the damp deckunder the illunarmated night.A company of arachnids,crickets and moreporksplay to the Southern Cross.There is a rain-soaked printerwaiting for just the write momentfor its penultimate journey to the shed,the recycling bin is semi empty;

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1145708706957302612006-04-22T05:25:00.000-07:002006-04-22T05:25:06.963-07:00

Howlin

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1145708568979218622006-04-22T05:17:00.000-07:002009-06-13T03:45:56.453-07:00

Fanned by some of the beat mynds of our generationI stood and burned on Port Albert RoadA rounded hipster, connected to the fiery machinery of lightAnd heat. The lava ash of poetry ,insatiate with a can of rtd, a package of cigarettes a candleburned alive in my innocent polycotton shirtLike a fabulous yellow roamin candle,I aint worth JackSaying common things, yawning, desirous of nothing.O, what

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1145565591421168562006-04-20T13:32:00.000-07:002006-04-20T13:39:51.453-07:00

Sometimes it amazes meWe use rhyme with simplicityOur brains show their dexterityWith linguistic synchronicityAlthough at times it may seem tweeI think with Bob we can agreeThat rhyme occurs so naturallyAnd grown with some tender careBrings forth beauty for our ear.To read Dig In visit here

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1145448733271591112006-04-19T05:00:00.000-07:002006-04-19T05:12:13.280-07:00

In these two feetI standEarthedWherever I am

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1145359763102997082006-04-18T04:20:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.505-07:00

1Closed eyesBegin descentDistracted by lightand amorphous coloursDeeperDeeperGravitycentred betweenand behind my eyesmy myndsliding down tunnelforever curveda roller coaster droptoward a lightdoppler colours streaking past11Floatingstep out of my skinflesh and boneslike so many clotheshang up my worn emotionsDoubtIs it a conditionto have no emotion?Or reality?I hear a roaringthere is a riverlike

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1144812926850898512006-04-11T20:28:00.000-07:002009-06-13T04:07:13.505-07:00

I push your shiny skinprobing gentlyYour flesh is firmgiving just soFinding a sweet spotmy mouth closestasting your nectarparting fleshy integumentsopening your blushHungrily I devouredyour seductive habitand faced the stony wallcrenillated and hardfrom a life accustomedto protecting your special Kyour secret place...Scared that you may give lifeScared that you may take life.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1144791076888634472006-04-11T14:30:00.000-07:002006-04-11T14:31:16.943-07:00

oww oww owwhard day at the officestick the pig, stick the pigooh ooh oohwait till she walks on the bike pathkilling me, giving me cancergive her a mirror with'You're ugly on the inside too'scrawled in blood red lipstick.Yeah!

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1144155501708680122006-04-04T05:39:00.000-07:002006-04-04T05:58:26.553-07:00

TodayBradin, bless his 1, 3 and 5 a.m. wakingsrolled onto his tummy for the first time,freed his arm , and lay there....Bryanna discovered the joys of singingand clapping to nursery rhymes.How she wished she knew the words!Shelley beavered on with her dolls house projectall M D F and holes.She has completed two children since starting.Myself, having coffeed my way out ofa feeding fog, and

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1143721677960816852006-03-30T04:15:00.000-08:002006-03-30T04:42:46.056-08:00

Its hard to say something newin a landwhere cliches are a dime a dozenIts hard to be briefwhen work once beguncompels exertionIts a landwhere seed is sownnurtured, grownwhere the heartfestis threshed, poundedmulled over, digestedtill the motion is movedthat the product's approvedIts a landwhere the whiff of a wordis not worth a scentwhere fragments of thoughtand keen observationsare coined by

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1143714342458926392006-03-30T02:08:00.000-08:002009-06-13T04:07:13.506-07:00

I'm no longer moved by the news.The protest chants of strident youththe battle cries of long in toothexpert pronouncements on environment and healtheconomists warnings for employment and wealthmurder, mayhem, crises, disastera heartwarming animal tale for afteroops no mention of the starving MILLIONSwhilst war in Iraq approaches the TRILLIONSI'm not buying into the name.My house is a home not a

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1143510880940141712006-03-27T17:54:00.000-08:002006-03-28T03:17:21.636-08:00

Three Poincare potentates with a strange attractionTheir Mandlebrot wings up, and out of action,Their tropical cousins whorled wings flappedand fluttered once, twice, thrice,and winds whirled and waters rushedas a cascade of bifurcations playedBorn today and yet they stayedin triangular rigidity, a trinityof fractional dimensionalityThe three wise men of Orions BeltFeeling wind, the rain they

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1143457941690330492006-03-27T02:50:00.000-08:002006-03-27T03:16:50.940-08:00

The universe has never separated itself from man. Man separates himself from the universe." Lu Hsiang-shan (1139 - 1193) from Hsiang-shan Ch'uan-chi.You may have seen me today.I was the one walking in the wind and rainwithout a coat, feet bare, smiling.SmilingHead held high in a windy cocoon,thoughts stripped from my mindand teased through my hair.The first impertinent dropquickened the high bone

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1143352007232881592006-03-25T21:42:00.000-08:002006-03-25T21:46:47.233-08:00

I call you on the telephoneYou're always out you're never homeBaby what're you doin tonight?And every time you let it ringYou know I'm always wonderinBaby what're you doin tonight?Baby I know that you've got another guyI can tell it by the way you hold my eyeBaby I know that you've got another manI can tell it by the way you hold my hand..Sung to incredibly cheesy finger picked guitar. Always

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1143351753553591472006-03-25T21:35:00.000-08:002006-03-25T21:51:34.910-08:00

Can you see the light,its shiningCan you see the fire,its burningCan you see what i see,when you look deep in your heart,and dont you knowwe'll never be apartCos we're oneone of a kindYes we're one...Johnny came from wayway on the other sideand when he got therethere was nowhere he could hidewhen he saw you standingstanding in the lightHe knew he'd never spendanother lonely nightn i g h t ...And

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1143202945792019832006-03-24T04:08:00.000-08:002009-06-13T04:07:13.506-07:00

Literature is a vehicle of moral principles. Literary expressions are art and moral principles are substance. if one is earnest about substance, and writes it down with art, it will be beautiful and loved...Those who are engaged purely in literary expressions are vulgar people.From T'ung-shu (Penetrating the Book of Changes) Chou Tun-I (1017-1073)I accuse myself ofat timeswallowing in the broth

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1143114191182882292006-03-23T03:24:00.000-08:002006-03-24T04:30:06.126-08:00

Forty three.I have noticed, regardless of intent,not much seems newto me.My daughter, twenty one months,delights daily, nay hourlyin discovery.Forty three.Its a station nowhere. A pre-midlife mellowwearing halcyon shields of securities illusions.My setting foundations a little weathered,I view youthful indiscretionswith just a peak over Conspirators Hill.I suffer helpless desk attendantswith no

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1142250560277786122006-03-13T03:47:00.000-08:002006-03-13T03:49:20.276-08:00

cleaning washing vacuuming the mind, changing the nappies of thought, smoking time away.A tidy house is a tidy mind, fighting the forces of chaos in my domain is tiring. Order over time.Put on a mixed lot of socks, yesterdays shirt until todays shower, burn wood. Chaos over order.No thing never changes ... maybe death... Lifes great multicoloured threads wend thier weft.... and unravel for all

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1142250398403306152006-03-13T03:45:00.000-08:002006-03-13T03:46:38.403-08:00

The last time we all got togetherwas a real yacophonyThe hubble bub of insightsand our mellowing wisdomknives and forks stabbing throughthe self-foolfoolling pats on the backThe rattle from chains of wordassociations formed long agoand unsung idealisms turned realismson the fattened yolks of broken ego shellsand the property boom didnt hurt either.

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1142250232862340512006-03-13T03:42:00.000-08:002006-03-13T03:45:04.053-08:00

SoThe once proud lionesswho jumped through ringsand stood centrestage on the pedestalat the carnival of earthly delightswho can no longer bear cubswho displays her sagging vanitieswho sharpens her long teethon the soft jellies of revengeseen through the sleights of youth dimmed eyeswas shotto put us all out of her misery.Our misery.To read "On the Bench" http://www.sleightmind.blogspot.com/

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1142250112003454812006-03-13T03:36:00.000-08:002009-06-13T04:07:13.507-07:00

Acch, and lo, all heathens say helloAye, and sacrements to those belowwither thou spendeth free or ensnareTwas beed the devil visiting there.When the shining thru dark doom asunderand glinst caught in thoust twinkling eyethe very first breath wasted on wordsdidst end the very golden shining.And whom taught this false endeavours yetso slowly that two truths contrary and truerent time asunder

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1142249793647512572006-03-13T03:31:00.000-08:002009-06-13T04:07:13.508-07:00

Sick of all the same gameTired of being talked down to.Man is god. Mother was fucked.A rampage of no caresAwhirl of ignorant blissA call for imbalance, stuporDisillusioned by atomic anarchy.Fuck convention. Fuck.Fuck FuCk fUCK FUCKRip open the vagina again.Granddad worked hard and died.Grandma was really fucked.Their atoms move apart.Vomitous incesting primal atomic dance.Satan loving god

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1142249459621698912006-03-13T03:26:00.000-08:002009-06-13T03:45:56.455-07:00

I walk the streets looking for a whore for free.A suck for freedom, a suck for love, a suck for me.I eat, talk cool, drink and shoot pool.Lust for the lick of your depravity, for the flaring perfumePulsing velvet petals, warm, fertile, nourishing.I want to muzzle, burrow and grow, deep inside.Grow through you, become and be you, arise anew.And then walk away. (You can come to)

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23968867.post-1142249185201872212006-03-13T03:23:00.000-08:002006-03-13T03:26:25.203-08:00

Have you ever told your mother you wank?Or how you do it?The mother who bore you.Have you ever kissed your father on the lips?And told him you love him?The father who bore you.Have you ever ignored your god?When you knew better?The god who bore you.Look at your shadow in the light.Are you not the shadowwhen the dark world descends?

Crunchy Wetanoreply@blogger.com4