tO THE cOMYOUnitee:

I'm not devious and i do have a life, but if I were and i didn't, I'd spend about an hour creating 10 or more different xanga identities for myself, then I'd eprop and comment the hell out of myself daily (estimated 15 minutes) to assure myself the kudos to rank as the top-eprop mf-er. Called stuffing the ballot box, WMMS, the Home of the Buzzard (Cleveland rocks), and indisputedly the most grassroots popular rock station in the hippy era, fell into disgrace about a decade ago when they were caught trying to "prove" to the world in an independent nationwide survey of rock stations that popularity is all that is beautiful and worth any deceipt to attain.

No ex-xmas since it still is xmas, so merry be!

Follows a short poem originally refined for my friend Laura at lcsaph to...bum on the day?...no, let's say, to adjust the heart to the circumstances of the times....


urban christmas

monkeys rule the world
and christmas’s in the deep
hold fast to the fire
and Love’s body keep.

snow is falling black
snow men of dust
you sweet candy momma cane
you gonna get lust.

people zombi stone-faced
no spirit of the Birth
ya mine nas well lay dem down
right now in de irth.

merchants so gleeful
to see the green flow
bakers stamp ginger men
in brown greasy dough.

presents to ‘xplode
wrapped in dead trees
“Mommy, I want this and this
and these and these and these….”

platic pines assembled
“place A into B”
turn on the lights
and “Look children, see!”

Santa’s making tv ads,
Rudolph’s in a zoo
Mr. Jing-a-ling’s down on Prospect
looking for a screw.

people still ripping people
nations still making wars
the pimple prostitute that lives next door
still very much a whore.

no matter what the time or turn
grim monkeys stomp the earth
face deep into the fire
hold fast to the Birth.