9 Mar 2006

i want to eat the left eye of George Herbert Walker Bush, with ketchup on it.


It's true. i want to eat it. preferable live on national television and radio. In addition, i strictly desire to do so with the voluntary consent of the man himself. I think it would do alot for the healing of our world, and hopefully sooner rather than later, W will feel the same. He can use an optical replacement of some sort if he were to so choose, but i personally would much prefer him to use a pirate patch, for that is what he is and that is the family he is seeded from.

So, for the corporate domination of global cultures, for the pharmacological narcotizing of everyone,

for the drug wars, for the white power, for a war with an unjust premise and hundreds of thousands of dead men , women and children, for the start of the end of lies... i want to eat his left eyeball.

with ketchup.

About a month ago i wrote that in the sand of a beach in paradise. at night, in big letters. Just before i wrote that i had writted "Waves are the Wings of God" ... but i had written it in the wet sand and as waves washed the words away it struck me to leave something more lasting. i walked a little away and upslope, and carved my desire for comida in the dry sand... the sand that got wetter the further i gouged my finger in. As for the eye, i am confident that there are masters across this
fine earth that are well versed in the proper extraction and preparation, and i welcome their counsel, most naturally.

~el duderino

Beautiful Babylon Babies Unite !!!

This Blog existed after Bush II "the lesser" stole 2 elections, before Google ate Blogger,

This Blog existed after Bush II "the lesser" stole 2 elections, before Google ate Blogger,
Love Trumps hate.

Hits of the Month

Poetic HyperLinks Defeating the Impossibilities of Peace

Also sprach Zarathustra to the brothasistahs lost out in the woods…
Rolling stones and hurricanes prime us for the rapid eye movement of whose dream?
A stairway to the dark side of the moon reveals an orchestrated King
singing the blues while sexual pistols whip Jesus’ son.
Who’s influence weens us?
Me and my friends gratefully raged against the machine for three days
in the shadow of the valley of the dead
so big brother and company held us down while the wind cried
nothing to be gained here (except copied rights),
Then a questing tribe of beastly boys found a digable plant
where a buffalo soldier picked up a Gideon’s bible from the Godfather
in joe’s garage (or was it in one of 200 motels?)
Anyway, on a Holiday, the pinball wizard boy (Billie)
followed his heart and stopped pretending he was the king of the little plastic castles
while education, missed in the house of the naked apes, evolved and mutated
into and with ~ Nature Art Love Truth ~ and we do too…
And somewhere over the rainbow dancing fools send clowns and purple rain
into imagine nations where everything is now sacred
and there are no more public enemies or rusted Roots or minor threats
or bad brains or busted rhymes or widespread panic
and everyone can read the hieroglyphics on the wall
and we are all refugees of courtney’s love attaining nirvana….
But then again, you’re so vain, you probly think this poem’s about you-
we are everywhere and we cannot be beaten
it’s all over now baby blue, all we need is Love
Legalize It