Straight from the edge of ruin.

See, morey is not, as is, some who are. Not at all. morey is what is as morey, and not at all restrained by what is, or protruded by what is, or confined by what is, human. The morey bothers humans because he shows no respect to them, and no respect to the things they respect, and all humans have that one thing they respect which, if one should disrespect, a little button is depressed in that person's head and they go into anger mode, like when you're a kid at school and somebody disses your mom and you have to fight them for it. You don't know why and you're getting mad, but you're building that anger, it isn't exactly there but you have to put it there because somebody just insulted the woman you love and you know not how to react... Like when morey disrespected Hemingway. That could have bothered me because Hemingway understands what it means to have light shine through leaves outside quiet cafes, he understands the drink and the insanity and the smoke, the gun and the fist and the horn; Hemingway knows the silent moments in which man is imperfection incarnate and is dipped in a selfish solitude that makes God grasp at him with a curiousity akin to the God in Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions who just had to know what his human once in a world of robots would say when he came sliding down the mountain to wade below in the river spring. But the disrespect is not grounded! He doesn't know Hemingway, but morey knows know and is of not knowing that which is unknowable, so that he can paint and ride bikes and smile queerly to the derelicts of worldly 'burbs. Anywhere, anyone, any time, morey can drink in a character and like it without ground. See, he respects nothing. No value or tradition or religion or constitution, but if morey likes you it is for something as simple as a chemical cocktail and a series of events, an acid flashback and a circadian mistep, sugar you didn't want in a coffee you can't return because you're already at work, but it turns out being the best coffee you've ever had. And on that groundless ground in the wake of uncertainty, morey, that flittering thing likes and dislikes without reason, just passion, dividing heaven and hell on a cunt hair decision and riding insanity to divine inspiration that is the lohan. Be so enlightened as to see without seeing, to take texture from afar the way you take colour, the way your eye extracts it from a distance that could only be spoken of in a paranormal tongue by the born blind that hasn't the concept to take colour from distance. Live and let live. Do not understand morey, but hear him, the way you walk out of a hairdresser with the same haggard trot after she guessed your sign and that of your friends, told you how you fuck up and why and when, things nobody could have known, and nod to astronomy but pass it by, take and absorb and move on, like what you must do to the teachers and cops and faculty if you know who you are, and accept the morey as a commodity. Cause I've thought it over and that mother fucker ain't human. Nightrious Sat, 09/06/2008 - 09
Mar 06

bai ling tribute poems

at birth
no hong kong garden
for this rare.

lotus blossum
or apple
not cherry
well maybe but.

rotted and reborn
the reptile skin

as pure light
she embraces all
the bad traffic.

on sunset blvd.


the signal reaches
her blackberry
it moves across.

her pudendum which
a snail
alone and small.

but not
for long as
an army of warriors
emerges from.

her bunghole!


born in bangcock
or not
some asian burg

emerged from
the septic pools
almost not human

with a heart
so dark
and a
love so strong.

but not
for you
this planet
cannot contain.

bai ling!


grass mat
gummy rice
and one
sad garment.

never foiled
the dark plan
of a sister

from the faux
spanish architecture
of socal.

sheets or
at least

across the garden
nude she emerged.

in a neighbors pool.


as if
lit from within

striped bikini
or growled
to the unwelcomed

votive candles
tiny brush fires

the hills
fired up
and the
white man fled.

bai ling laughed.


a crate
not contain
the rotted petals.

of a spirit
that slid

undersea creatures
but unsuccessfully

their rotted
and aesthetics
all gone wasted

the shiny
that is.

bai ling


anyone asian
or not
will tell you
the pagoda.

is not
where you learn
that all
is not.

so welcome or
you make camp
under the underpass.

and do not
the day
to dictate.

whether you
turn left
or right
duck quick.

bai ling


klieg lights
the sky for

anything alien
on our
little planet.

wanna fuck
with me?
you know
not to.

the smile
a knife.

hooray bai ling!



klieg lights
the sky for

anything alien
on our
little planet.

wanna fuck
with me?
you know
not to.

the smile
a knife.

hooray bai ling!

  1. morey posted this