att sucks

if i wanted somebody to plop me in a phone cord after slicing my head off so i can wander around opening endless doors to endless empty offices staffed by flesh melting faces with the eyeballs sucked out so i can stumble around the maze stinging myself on electrick currents while paper dollars bleed out of my aching muscles searchin for the cheese while walking papers covered in meaningless jibberish shove gerbals down my neck, i'd pay for it. and i am.

Broke City Olympics

What better way to say "fuck the olympics" than to wheatpaste this up on one of those (likely tax funded) leotarded pro-olympic flaywad sculptures set up in yuppiecommerceville? enjoy.

oh, and if you want the olympics real bad, maybe you can use newfangled technology to alter it into a thumbs up with YEAH OLYMPICS! on the bottom. that is if you wanna fuckin pay for it...

nonverbal poems (with vaginas)

http://delirioushem.blogspot.com/

a project of artistic response to female poets, featuring Daniela, Abi, and Flynn amongst others.

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Anal Rape in the Harrowing Chinese SchoolGirl Poolhouse of PJ Piety

not a dugnovalesaachkay production

seriously, some anonymous joker sent us this. we were all like, wtf? but we decided to run it cuz we couldnt find any weed. not that we smoke weed, that would be illegal. we were going to hand it over to the proper authorities for destruction. not that we're narcs. we were gonna send an anonobot that would've self destructed at the first sign of police questioning. they're very reliable, those anonobots. just don't get too close to em.

,

"wait, is this the day the aliens have landed?"
"no, it's National Unexplained Phenomenon Day"
New Taxes on Pajama Bottoms, Buttons and Flies.
fruit?
zipper.

Review of Carnivore Carny

by All Words Copywrit All The Time Devour Press
excerpts:
Fair is Fair, bury the hatchet in vaginal mucus for sail to the children time. Once there was a city run by rats and animated pigeon robots. the sextoy robots had taken over. in this city was a diligent schmoet named PJ Piety who had carefully crafted a defense mechanism made of 011001 so he could own all the words. he stole all the words from the mouths of starving children, cut off their lips and taped them to his asshole. Four times an hour the Holy Hole would sing. it would sing songs about how mean and unjust all the other humans were before they got mechanized cuz they wanted to share words and they were communists.
"I got outta there with both lovely testicles intact" he told reporterbots at the scene, "but I had to scotch tape them to my forehead to stop the bleeding."
"let jesus fuck you!" his asshole sang as he fell into a deep state of epeleptic seizure, concentration, meditation, masturbation.
i went home. when i woke in the middle of the nite, 13 assholes were surround me, singing. four had assholes. and they sang

we are CHITOWPO,
we own all the buildings!
we own all the grass!
we own all the oxygen molecules!
you'll have to lick them outta our ass!

that is offensive to women! i screamed, but nobody listened cuz i was carving ovaries outta soap at the time.
but CJ Piety knew he wasnt crazy. He was the Jesus of Chitowpo. They were all trying to kill him. or anally rape him. o, they were clever. they would pretend like all they wanted to do was chew on words. theyd pretend like they couldnt hear him. but he knew that they'd scheduled their entire lives around his holy calendar. cuz it had holes in it, like swiss cheese. and it told the people the truth about how everyone was trying to anally rape his precious children. so PJ Piety decided to get some MOTHERFUCKING REVENGICIDE! he would not take that shit lying down. so he burnt down all the other calendars, even stonehenge, until nobody knew what day it was and the sun died. of venereal diseases. and PJ Piety masturbated in spasmotic glee.

...and they told the children, be careful which words you eat, or the PJ Piety will come...

next week: PJ Piety makes a web site about assramming elephants.

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chicago poetry chicago poetry chicago poetry (x3=$45.6x3+9.18tx=$178.9)

tattoo a poet

Faith Rice, prez of verbatim (columbia's performance poetry group) is getting poetry branded-your poem could be on her skin! look for verbatim's Poetry Tattoo Competition at colum's new student convocation in grant park.