Just like I remember it

F--k around lay around
A wise old man said to me once.
A pig in s--t will remain as said pig
Until the s--t runs out...
And the pretty little fly with it's reflective eyelids,
Feels the pull of need and desire for said pile of s--t.
But that's how I remember you,
As that fly in s--t
I don't even remember who was who
Was I pig?
Fly?
Fly on pig s--t?
Pig on fly s--t?
Fly on pig's back...
That's where I wanted to be...
F----n round
Layin round
Happy as a fly
Happy like the pig
That is left chasing a flaming little autonomusly engineered pile.
Fuck around
Lay around...
Good luck with that shit...

It could be sweet

When it clicks,
There is a sliding mechanism
That pushes those with sorrowed intentions along their gloomy and self
depricating way,

But it could be sweet,
The feeling of the wind,
Feeling of never being held to it,
Never having to solve anything.

It would be sad,
But sweet.
Like fudgy the whale,
Or my nigga cookiepuss...

What was what

What was I fighting for?
I've forgotten in my haste to battle,
The cause for this pause
Sweet hips t---s and p---y lips.

It was a futile fight,
And there you were fighting for the wrong side,
Tongue to cheek,
Except it was glued to the side of your face,
Maniacal-like.

I reckon they could have drank anything,
And still eaten mushrooms and gone into battle,
Milk or water,
Milk or honey,
But blood and honey estrogen would do the trick for sure...

Like 3 primary colors,
From that pallette could come any other feeling you imagine and
simulate...
F--k kill and make love... I'm always fighting for the privelege.
Always fighting for the chance.

But what do they fight for?
If not blood or honey or sex or sugar or love?

How I will grow you m-----f----r

I have these dreams.
Of creating a new man deal woman way
Paradigms hung in small rice paper strips,
Picture behind just clear enough
Puts you on the road but neglects to mention your exit.
You see the sign telling you road ends.
But this man is you man or girl
And you see it coming and decide
The biggest decide ever
The razor that cuts the strips
It ends and you are here and be here as you may
You will never leave this place
And why woulkd I he and she ask...
Why would I ever...

Here is where I become man woman sentient muthafuck...
Here is where I grow new people.
New paradigm,
New prison,
New person.

She is gone

You've seen it on tv.
In the cartoon.
She was that fish, that mouse, that character
That zips through the antagonist's teeth.

A pretty mouthfull if I ever saw one.
And now she is gone.
The imaginary pepe lapew pursuit has ended.
And it is what it was.
Imaginary. All the feelings.
Just imagine the imagery she gave out,
Projecting her own private string theory
In on of the alternate worlds shw floated through,

Maybe she was that girl,
The soft collection,
The juicy sex owner,
Maybe she was.
I'll never really know,

I wonder about it though,
Did she ever love me?
Did we fall apart under the weight
Of respective projected self imagery?

Sad to see you go pretty girl,
Beautiful woman.
Glad to see you though.
Glad to watch you go.

Maybe someday you'll like my mangoes.

Maybe it was all a matter of big hard banana.

I will never know.

I wonder

From the outside, with a gratuitous glance in
Sort of boomerang shaped
The introspection is,
It flies back at you as what seems to be a reflection
Which is actually just me me and me
Wondering who are you you her and he,

You are the established, the non struggler
The arrived, the expected, the served,
The known, and the considered.
While I wait in line, asking you questions from the other side of the
joint,
Like women in the synagogue,
I wonder what it could be like on the other side...
To be like you
Figured out and ironed,
No stains, no wrinkkles
Every sentence ending with the right punctuation.
Period over question mark.
Is he lowly technician or just some wierdo.
Just some wierdo?
Just some wierdo.

prayer for beauty

forcible

the muslinesque feeling i tend to gag on all

thetime.

when i see you

you are the noblest creature ever.
and i've always known it.

its me that same person
pee pants and cuffed up pants

i came back for the-rere
you just DID NOT understand

under that buttermoon hallucination
you loooked in my hand and got so nervous
cuz i know how to use that mutha
at least i use to use to know how to

but with all that know how
all that magnificant superbness in front of you
between your them pretty eyes


nothing seemed evident
so know i'm that guy and you are that girl
but in that good way.

it was good. ok. i admit.

Perfection without fine print

I fell asleep last night
And dreamt of conditional perfection
And the well documented caveats
Of the old give and take.
Of the old real and fake.
The no baxi's no taxi's no refunds
That goes on when eyes meet and mouths open.

I dreamt of fish
Or maybe it was sushi
with double sided scaling... Inside and out
I dreamt of sunsoaked vacations to the carribean, and a piss filled
margarita waiting for me when I hit that beach.

I dreamed of 99 percents
And partial quality assurance
I wondered if the world would be forever full of incompletes and kindas

And then I woke up.
Half awake. Half asleep
Half of me still asleep inside her.
And there it was. A bundle of perfection.
Shrinkwrapped in the lovliest of human giftwrap...

My baby is asleep inside her pretty skin with haffame inside her...

Here it was. Here is perfection. Holla.

The age old askme trick

I do it all the time
In the same fashion
It becomes my reference checker
Factfinder
Thought provoker
And case in point.
The cups may spin to a deafening rattle
But rest assured
They come back
They peel the undersides of the eyeball
Maybe there'd be some residue left behind
What were we thinking our heroes ask themselves
Be real they ask.
The inertia of their selfconfidence lapses and they are set into motion
once again... To feel
To feel a thing is not tragic, it is the requisite undoing of a
selfmade protagonist... A neccesary handicap of the heroic,
But we all come back... To see what's on the otherside of those
bigbrownbabyblues and greens...
We always comeback a' checkin....

The dawning

The dawn finds our hero waking
Just barely 3 hours deep into it all,
3 hours away he wakes again
To a slumbersome reality
Of mortars slinging across a mourning sky
We will burn these houses the masked figured whisper
We will by almighty god win in the end

I still don't think I understand the isreali palestinian conflict. I
mean on one hand, you can't move into a place claiming manifest destiny
and clear the current residents out. But then again you can't blow
innocent people up because you aren't strong enough to fight a real army
to army war. You also can't shoot a leader of a militant but culturally
nominated and cemented political group and not expect a no holds barred
assault in return.

Actually scratch the first one... That's how the u s of a came to be. So
I suppose you could but then you are just setting yourself up for a fall
when you finally realize that destiny will never really manifest itself
without some genuine all american bloodshed and your thirst for that
kind of action takes hold of you and everybody looks across the table at
the un like is this mutherfuck crazy or just insane? The whole thing is
strange indeed.

The really fucked up thing though is that I can understand everybodys
view in it. How do you break an idealogical stalemate?

The hardest button to button

The hardest button to button
That first one
After rolling away from you
A most unwelcome departure
When my pants go back on and flesh is once again contained.
And thoughts began to form crystalline cellular walls
Its the hardest buton to button

Primer

If death was a painted wall,
The word 'fuck' would be the primer...

She said you better

She said I better be sure. She said
Aint no fool like an old fool
I had to agree
The worst fool
Is the repeated fool.
I'm sure alright.
I'm sure you already know
The second worst fool is the
Repeated fool.
I'm sure of it.

The audibleaudacity

The nerve
The spinning self depreciation
He's a mass of want
A sirging force of infantile proportions
Its like talking to a baby
About how goog dogfood tastses
And how good for you is baby food.
The sin in it all ensues
Conversation falters
You are finally that guy.

The thing that sucks the most...

I guess other than not having your loved one.
There are things that suck peripherally. Suddenly
All those casseroloes that thought you were sooooo
Cool
Nice
Great
Sweet
a can of soup

and Suddenly you are off the list

he broke up with her not killed her.

like richard marx in that video about hazard county
or whatever. he was like the dutch kid. yo i was with her

but i've never seen this lady in my life ever.
nothin like that it was keys dropping...
a very privately personal event
but quite disorientating nonetheless...

and precedent setting silence smashes my eyes against the mirror.

i'm trying to hear something important.

earpieces fall silent.

dialtones chirp to an almost musical dialog.

but i dont have to listen to this. really i dont.

Armory of Pigeon Castings

I swear I remember the episode of gijoe where either the joes or cobra
commander had a weapon that was run with bird shit. I even remember
seeing all these birds on the show shitting all over and that guy named
"shipwreck" was making all these dumb jokes about the birds.

Is al qaeda the cobra regime? Is moussaoi the new serpentor? And whose
playing snake eyes?

Tennis everyone

Tennis is nice. Or maybe.
Its too many 5 sentence plot diagrams
From too many 5 minute pronopromos...
But the back and forth grunting,
The gangbanging soccer mom waiting list
An exhausting backhand overhand
Against a velvety jersey miniskirt
That backdrops to a blue sky
With the fluffiest pink clouds,

The only game people wait to play in the park.

me and baby bro

jj
Originally uploaded by viskus.

lets take it back.. way back.

munnycar

munnycar
Originally uploaded by viskus.

vs. munnylikinz

Hey my friend

I've seen you too many times
The metal in your face giving way to that squareness
Of granite jawbone and heart made of whale bone and blubber
To see your disposition is to know the meaning of compression
Coal turns to diamonds and dreams under less duress...
You're in love now
And I often wonder how you keep your pretty little heart from exploding
onto the streets and people you meet
Maybe that's your private challenge like a deadly high stakes game of
hot potato
See who'll be caught holding the bomb of heart...

Truth is I understand.
But you will explode on day.
If you don't release.

Open letter to the broken dream

I miss you.
I say it once I say it a thousand times
Reinforces the hastiness of my decision.
Makes me note the hastiness...
Next time there will be vocal contemplation
Next time I will wish it was this time
Our time.
Now time.

Preparing for the villiany of it all,
Its funny how time flies
When the spoons resume spinning
and you remember what time it is

And way off I hear a pencil tapping and the sound of skin on a leather
chair...
and some guy with his cold sliding scale
is there reminding me that my time is up.

You're right I tell him.
I knew this wouldn't work... I glance over to my future and repeat to
her... I told you so.

And then my time is up.

Sleeping

I hate sleeping.
I like being awaky while everybody else is sleep.
Like being alive while everybody is overnight dead...

But I'll doze eventually. Eventually.

I wonder

"What is it that you're missing?", asked a friend of mine... "When your
object of desire is gone, what is I am missing? Her or the thought of
her or how she makes me feel."

Everybody in love should ask themselves that. Everybody. Yes even
mutherfucker tom crooz and katie homeslice...

I reckon they don't care about the answer though...
What is the look of...
It got somethin to do with ummm...
Being a man and handling yo biz...
What love got to do wit it,
Ask SV its all...

whosaid

whosaid
Originally uploaded by viskus.

sayswho

Hot as a mutha

Instructions for surviving the heat this summer:

PS. This work for gals and guys just as well...

Step one. Strip naked
Step two. Secure cold beverage, fan and large bed.
Step three. Turn fan on and point at bed.
Step four. Spread eagle on bed
Step five. Holla.

classic

diana
Originally uploaded by viskus.

classic classic. thats all i can say.

diana

diana
Originally uploaded by viskus.

grace under frost

grace under frost
Originally uploaded by viskus.

smug asshole

smug asshole
Originally uploaded by viskus.

grace under fire

grace under fire
Originally uploaded by viskus.

i love this stuff...

Harder closing

I will miss you so much.
I know. You too.
Take good care of yourself.
You too. (Fighting the urge to say he loves ger as to avoid confusing
himslef or her)

Bye.
Bye.

The hardest closing

So I will talk to you later.
Ok.
Ok.
Bye.
Bye.

fontography and bunkerbusting

Fontographers are nice man. It must be really fun to make all those things and get to name each one all clever-like…

 

So yeah I’m hearing that the whole war thing has taken a new turn, “from the badddy side”, to quote my Rhodes Scholar friend and mentor Pootytang. There’s new terrorists (that didn’t take long at all) that are younger and all up inside London. So yeah. Just thought you should know something about it. very integrated they say this new guy is… very… normal. Now… as we DO need to insure national security, I am going to lock all of you up in little boxes and if you act up again I will round you up up bunker bust ya arse. Big bombs. Heavy shit. I mean it happened during WWII… so why not now. Not condoning it though, but look how easy they did it back then with the Japanese… they were like well we cant pick em outta ya ranks so everybody gets locked up. I wonder why I havent seen any films really about that. Maybe I don’t know all the facts about it because that seems strange that it was just like… uhh. Sorry?

GRAMMY HQ

grams HQ

GRAM DIDDY

grammy taylor all ready

gramps taylor the don gorgon

from this window have i

PICT0002
Originally uploaded by viskus.

i will never forget this view. it was muchy more than the in-out in-out.

my reflection in your rims is not a good look for me...

the wheel keeps spinning.
the motion continues,
the eyes cannot stop looking.
they automatically rise up to doorlevel.
to see the passenger and driver
the nigger keeps grinning,his folly continues.
I keep looking in the ride.
waiting for something else to appear.
something new to see.
some new screen to appear.
some new puzzle to solve.
did i talk too much?
did i mix too much?
did i blend too much?
did i react too late?
all i am is that reflection in those rims.all i am is that reflection of the brother.all i am is the reflection of my nigga.

The lingering fragrance

My thoguhts of you are often
seperated
Into categories
Paradigms of emotional organized disarray
Some drip with honey
Some dry the slow drip of funeral parlor myrhh
Some drip leak of energy from face heart and unreadable capricious
persona
But they come and linger...
Sight of 8 by 8
Weed burning innocence.

I will just say I miss them you me us.
Jireh -

Nymphomania - for those that don't know...

Nymphomania - inability to leave the second chakra.

Salaciousness

Very hungry lovers
Jireh - sent from Sidekick

stop touching me dun

the pressure of the empty spacesurrounding your palms hand fingertips and earthenware genitalsthat we watch eb and flownothing touchingonly fieldsand bits of information...the scientist awakens again and notices there is a placea place for all those thingsinside the confines of his new quantum sex toyday and night.with said new device of godlike pleasuretirelessly he fucks himself.tirelessly the the niggers are fucking themselvestirelessly whitey buffs himselfadmiringly our hero tries losing himselfdropping his keys...leaving pieces of himself everywherelike a maggot wishing for a chrysalisam i not the worm?do i not move by squirm?
more questions drip outmorphine likethey are release as well as addicting prisonone leads to the next without closing the door behind him or her.people try and reach new levels without leaving the old ones...
like ok. imagine you are trying to take an elevator but you dont want to leave the first floorimagine how thin you stretch yourself
let go of the ghettolet go of the backwoodsstop talking so damn loudact decentfuck your pridefuck that identityis that what you think you are? your big speakers?a piece of fried chicken?watermelon?an annual police controlled parade?a waving flag?i look at flags wavingand i see large sheets of linen,which become huge green leaves of iceberg lettucs... and i am there as the maggot... in between them alltrying to find a cool place...a place to chill yall the fuck out...

the beginning of the end of the ending to my beginning

being clever these days is so easy. they say it is anyway.
the premature slam of an enter key and you go from prose to poetry.
i hope i didnt just clever my way out of the best girl ever.
i said i just couldnt do it anymore.
was it true?
had i searched my heart enough to really know?
it's how i felt and how i acted.
i was crazy about the 2.5 dumplings and all that entailed.
but i couldnt get my arms around anything else.