when you end up smoking a cigarette upon
the inhale...
and when you exhale... ah...
the magic quintet... of something closely
associated with jazz...
the solo of a piano,
the solo of a sax,
the solo of a trump(et)...
the solo of the drums...
the solo of D A BASS...
and then?
let's recoup! gentlemen!
once more! in synch!
classical music could never give you that...
rigid bollocks of violins...
and who's who and who's trying
to drift into vogue "cool"?
like... that sort of borrowed slang
from the 1960s?
i thought the fucky-fucky-inspirations
of those days abhored the drunks?
well...
here's to the next come to nothing
stoner when the shit is legal...
well... then sure as hell
you're more bewildered
by ms. luna and less about
the sycophantic leeches of
what would otherwise come
to the conclusion of a confusing
one-night-stand...
what's left?
quoting something from
the godfather... while admiring
the infancy of the internet
via: you've got mail starring
tommy and maggie...
and to think:
internet what was and what
internet was to become...
we truly underappreciated
the concept of the vinyl and
the carousel...

cobwebs like candyfloss give me
the reflexive arachnophobic chills...
you know them... shy spiders...
yeah "shy" spiders...
they're not tarantulas...
they're these bony lanky pseudo giraffes...
they are stoners of the spider world...
forget weaving,
forget they are the center of
attention.. forget intricacy
and architecture...
these "curious" fuckers
hide... and their cobwebs
will not even catch raindrops
to eager an argument from
theology...
candyfloss cobwebs...
hiding in shadows:
and they are themselves the shadow
people are prone to fear...
lanky pestering presences...
shadow that gravitate
toward wanting to pet a serpent...
i'd rather suffocate
in the ring of a serpent constricting
me than have to pretend i was
"limping" toward
catching a moth...

there's a specific lineage
of arachnophobia... and it's associated
with lazy web architects.