stupid abstract abysmalations
without manifest or
impressionability

are rambled from my
head-- from an assembly line,
lot 79 in the clouds

i have polluted
my mind
and have
since received a notice
from my
left hemie
of my impending eviction

"there is no god without
pretty girls on BART trains, afterall--

so why mull that fucker over while
ignoring them still?

and no truth without a
re-affirming smile so

all frowns must be lies,
in some form or another--

so the tell the goddamn truth,
tell the goddamn truth,

instead of thinking it over
on goddamn dance floors

women don't want philosophers
on new years--no dreary theories

that stagnate rhythm doctrines:
they want apostles and disciples to

invisible messiahs that partake
in sensuous, holy posturing so

please let this serve as your notice:
no more madness."