Torched Brain Cells

[Kurt K]

The North American Laugh-Box




laughter tears out of skies
bleeds out of cracks in the street
the wrinkles in old womens faces
the needle marks in junkies arms
laughing at those
who piss blood day to day
from the slits in their eyes
sleeping in cars, craving dirt cheap scag
just to shake off morning pains
drunks, shaking in the dawn for that first drink
covered in the dirt that has covered them
since the belch of time
filth that doesnt stop, that seeps so deep
beneath the skin, it stains the soul
and causes brain cells to boil
screaming, shrieking maniacs
tearing at their skin and walls
drawing blood from both
and condemning themselves to concrete tombs
in state prisons and jails
where they get to stare gods reflection in the eye
under flourescent lights
pregnant junkies and crackheads begging for forgiveness
or miscairrages and stumbling through crackheads
teetering on that one final leap of faith
rock heads scouring the cum dumps of their mind for something
that might ebb away the bleeding, white pain for one
frozen solid second, only to shatter
the laughter comes out of exhaust pipes, chimneys,
industrial disposals and and piss kicking young punks mouths
like so many cocks, in and out of the imagination
laughing at the suffering, those who piss and vomit blood
those who live on a daily dosage of sheer agony
only to be released again on a probation of
scorched brain cells and methamphetamine scars
the laughter rages like a polluted river of acid
and we have all become the child that swims in the
lake of blood
laughter crackles out of fires burning bloodied clothes,
self-aborted fetuses, folded up papers filled with crystal meth,
heroin, and in pipes burning up crack
laughter pours out with the metallic blue smoke
like roaches scurrying for the dark
at men masturbating in dumpsters over the last crack hit and view
of cheap ass flittering in the dawn pain
sleeping in broken down cars with flesh torn and scarred from
exploding meth dens
and psychotic girlfriends decay in the sick, fat, ugly, decrepit and
wretched morning wrestling shaking arm out for blood filled, dope
seringe
and smiling at the reason they have for shooting up again and again
the laughter
from wounds that won't heal, that bleed untill death
like crying late aborted fetuses that never shut the fuck up even
ten years afterwards in the mothers skull
and the wretched child, stumbling in the abusers wrath
I can't move a muscle
and I can hear a short, numb silence
before the laughter starts up again
the north american laugh track for the battered soul
and decrepit living corpse
will never stop
as long as steel rushes along highways
and voices chatter in schizophrenic brains

Light of Pathos

smoke bellows from a rancid, cracked black sky
night clouds evaporate in stretching beams of sunlight
and the pale green moon fades in the sky
like memories of the dead
the sky cracks open
and the sun shines through onto
drunks, spitting black spit wads onto scum filled sidewalks
erroded garbage and filth stomped beneath the feet
of dyspeptic citizens
their faces gnarled in twists of digust,regret,loss
and a daily dosage of death and pain
eyes flickering in the white hot beams
electric white with suffering at having even woken up,again
slouched in doorways
limp in alleys
asleep on the side of the street
and in dumpsters
cropped against walls and beds moaning for some sort of relief
with bloodstains in the filthy carpet
shadows evaporate and expose
grimy buildings in decay
public housing filled with
shrieks, sobs, and moans
emanating from walls like dripping oil
diseased rodents crawling amoung rotting piles
of vomit, roach lure, spoiled food and rotting flesh
the sky breaks open like a frozen bottle on the pavement and sunlight spills
out illuminating desperate ill used women and wights
stumbling through the streets, down hallways, into battered drug houses
back to abusive spouses, drug habits, memories of rapes
losses of life, sparks of death and one final
shriek for one last ink black smear over life
a slashed wrist or a bag of dope away from
the endless march of post death malaise
thousands of memories of suicide flashing in the street
flailing arms as he crushes his head against the concrete floor
spilling brains
weeping meth women hacking so deep into their arms
crimson blood paints their clothes and faces
jumping through windows and plummeting down
the one who tried to saw his head off, got halfway through his neck
and beat three police officers before leaving
a child eating rat traps
all a desperate reach for one last long plunge into the gears
of the ticking machine
the sun shines on rotted teeth, decayed flesh
scars on jaundiced skin
broken bones, chalk outlines
cat sized rats gnawing on murder victims
men cleaning guts and blood off the pavement
while men piss on walls
prostitutes shrieking through the streets, panting
wide legged, beat up, hopeless and haggard
darting in and out of doorways
just one more 20 dollar bill
for a weathered and used
stab at their worn guts
and fading in and out of the last depleting shadows
the silhouette of a small girl wearing a white
blood soaked with dress dancing lost in the streets
amoungst the dying plagues
cuts her flesh with razorblades
and spills blood into the concrete
she is the spirit of defeat, of surrender, abandon, and resignation
and as eyes gaze at her fading visage
they stop caring
and fade into the disease

The Foulest Man that Ever Lived

the foulest man that ever walked
on the dirt in this country was born on halloween
he dresses in skirts and teases his relatives with his
ass and hollow, skinny body framework
spitting out simpering, girl like syllables at their
drooling mouths and tense ears
he grows, smoking his fathers cigarettes in the bushes
with his siblings behind shrubs
and shrieking at the roaches in daddy's left behind pizza box
then some incident
a molestation by their "magician" uncle
who lays his sister on a bed and fondles her, under ten years old
then onto the foul child, who only asked if he could play, too
and next thing he knows are the sounds of his own screams, masked
by his own pain of his uncle throwing his frail, childish legs
into a later on broken adult stride, the dark family
secret and cannon fodder for americas most wanted
fucked up since then
he abuses drugs, heroin, weed, coke, meth, oxycotin, anything he
can get and sucks up woman after woman, bleeding them dry
getting them addicted to dope and fucking the sanity out of their heads
needle scars and track marks sign his autograph all over his
chemical twisted body and he takes up younger and younger
girls and boys
fucking around with them untill he's so fucked up
an escaped sex offender from the wing of the skull
leaving women screaming in deprived addiction for one last dirty
silver spoon to suck on
and as he has his way with the girls and discards them like the
condoms he uses to secure the future of his next youthful
sex conquest
acquires hep c and extorts women to shoot off his dirty needle
because it's the only one there and he's the one with the dope
and if you ask me how many women he's sentenced to death
he might be able to beat one of the judges on the supreme court
or one of the child rapists in corcoran, richmond, or mansfield
I see you, the foulest man to have ever stomped shit into this earth
deforming
ears growing out of your skull
boils growing out of your decaying dick soon to fall off, rotted and
get eaten by maggots and roaches
deformed growths out of your pelvic region lifting your arms up
to your shoulders so you can more easily claw your bloodshot eyes
out
assholes growing on your back spitting puss into your jaundiced
yellow tennis shirt while you inject semen from a dirty seringe
into your neck
fingers growing out of odd angles on your body so they may scratch the
sores spitting yellow-white slop at starving roaches at your feet
that came from that last remembered dads empty pizza box in the
dumpster of your mind
a reflection of you
you peel roadkill of the road, take it into homeless shelters and slip it into
peoples pockets
you go to bars and wipe your tears on toilet seats
you take hammers and beat holes into your own head
you take children, maim their feet with razorblades and have them walk to
school with your mother
who feeds you oatmeal laced with breast milk and crystal meth
you hunt skunks down just to get sprayed so you can masturbate in the
bathrooms at your next scam
thinking of the sickened expressions on peoples faces as you pass
you serve shit to your parents, children and relatives
and convince them that it is surely is, veal
and your blood and dope boils on your soul like
aborted fetuses left in dumpsters in the summer swelter
newborn children fall down stairs
rats the size of cats crawl from dumpsters to eat babys toes and fingers
junkies carve out their eyes and choke on them for the idea of more
old women burn up in the fire like cat tails under a childs blow torch
and you are left with one more chance
to proove the value of your life
one spurt into a busted condom
and then a crack baby
your legacy will die with you, and all the viscious pain you've caused
when I saw your flittering shade ignominous and dirty, dragging saliva and vomit encrusted
hooch bottles out of a dumpster
behind a rape-your-nephew hillbilly bar
and crying
over the lives of the people you've sent spiraling
into the human meat grinder
and then I am left with your dying screams and honks
from a passing car in traffic
as I walk down the lanes
trying to catch my breath
and the rest of my identity
before it falls like roach shit
into the grinding, steel trash compactor,
and I am glad to have escaped from your imagined hell
withought dirty needles
hanging from my neck


Torched Brain Cells

crushed skull drunken martyrs of the self
with dts spit yellow phlegm at
black stained garbage cans
dxm scorched brain addicts fry organs in
coffee cans under blue lit blow torches
of the swollen tongue and bleeding nostrils
scarred over humanity on scarred over sub-human
addicts blowing steam over their torn apart
faces and torsos
carving up arms with box cutters in the post
relief early morning pain
crushed watches of lost time psychotics
rant and rave in streets flagged down
by car horns and flinging garbage and self
at pis and filth covered walls and traffic
scorched over brain cell faded heroin addicts
for one last spun dry stint in failing rehab
to suck more blood and chemicals in and out of the neck
corkscrew spined mangled ecstacy partiers in their
hideous glowering sexualities sucking the
jaundiced milk from cigarette burned sluts
and the brain cells are torched and evaporate
like so many dreams and lives
and they continue their dirge
stumbling up and down the streets
and sleeping in the dumpsters
of the soul and mind
crack seized rail thin failures
babble incoherently to police
trying to explain the disenfranchised
convoluted crack whores
spitting semen through their nostrils
at one last hit on the pipe
never with a question as to why
the terrible deafening roar continues through the
streets and brains of its denizens
omitting sanity in favor
of seizures
and delusions of other lives and scenarios
like the ones they pictured as kids
suicidal mental patients sucking at
perscription bottles
emptying their pills onto their
liver, kidneys, and heart
and forgetting at once the immediate
purpose of their illness and treatment
in exchange for another go at wild abandon
souls go up in flame
lives go up in flame
brain cells fry on the pavement
like yesterdays roadkill
walking husks devoit of life
missing sanity, soul and mind
teetering under the weight of death
stumble into blackened nights
insane
and stumbling forward
into lost skies


let me know what you think

do you remember me nick?

[n.r.m.]

Bravo!

[Coleen Shin]

Hi. this, or rather, these, are vivid, graphic, and intense. You really do have a way with words. Some of the imagery is so compelling , so frightening and deeply emotional in a a post traumatic way.

very raw

so hey, nice to meet you.

only criticism of this extended work is that it is an extended work. by that, I mean it loses it's impact and power by redundancy. aggressive imagery works best in a much shorter vehicle.

some really good stuff in there. break it into about ten pieces, find the emotion of each chunk and isolate it.

each it's own statement.

fear
disgust
rage
despair
distance
remove
ache
desperation

all the ugly truths of addiction and waste.


Coleen