Phantasmagoria in the House of Anemia

 

The chalk-gods
seen as conjured 3D-printed suicide –
it turned lethal/
the blood of phantasmagoria spruik.

Bubble kevorkian
penetrates transgressive house of angina.
Government specters/
living inside sarco device –
flesh presentation death!

Trepanation seeress nested controlled Viagra.

Unsung thither macaroni and cheese/
ingeminate amphiboly –
ipso facto/
jaundice-eyes cassette the stirred strepitous –
despair finger/
skull consciousness defecting anemia-confetti,
UFO dancers’ mocked cherophobia/
koilonychia requiescat.
It comfortably sorrows plastic projection.

 

 

Copyright © 2020 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Phantasmagoria in the House of Anemia – may not reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may use if full, clear credit is given to Charlie Zero the Poet, and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

97 thoughts on “Phantasmagoria in the House of Anemia

    1. Thank you Marina. It’s good to be back after such a long break. I got myself a new laptop computer so I’ll be on the go with writing more. 🙂

      I’m glad you enjoyed this new poem and its cut up experimentation. 🙂

    1. Thank you Daisy.

      Have you posted the ‘Phantasmagoria’ stream consciousness poems? or not yet? If so, I will stop by and read them. 🙂

      All is well and have ton of new writing material I have been working on since my break.

      I love doing these cut up poetry. It randomizes the meaning in the poem and links the future of poetry.

      Have you ever tried ‘the cut up technique’?

  1. Like Marina has said in her comment Charlie… I was also thinking on you and pondering I had not seen a post… But then I also miss many a post because I have not been living in my reader or email box from WP..
    Love the words, even though not a clue today what they mean, without testing my tired grey cells today, but that’s not for me to know…
    Just happy your writing them and hope all is well with you Charlie..
    Take care 🙏

    1. Thank you sue. Good to be back.

      Well, I miss everyone here and miss reading their work. The poem is based on being in a haunted dingy house with an illusion of everything rearranging itself. As they say, history in every house has a story and in this case, my imagination cut up was boosting with what my mind saw and had to challenge my dream further.

        1. True. Often times our dreams become than too much of a reality that we ourselves don’t know it that we create the illusion as oppose to stepping in the actuality that’s far scarier.

          Good to be back! Tomorrow a new post. 🙂

    1. So awesome you enjoyed and understood those lines.

      I have been on a long break. Last year on December, my desktop computer gave out on me. Not to mention ‘Windows Vista’ has reached its final end in their services. So, I had to wait and save up to buy me for the first time a ‘laptop computer’. Which by the way its better and I’m getting a lot of work done. So, I had to work hard on new writing material so I can post. Yes, everything is okay. I’m glad to be back and I will catch up on everyone’s blog post. 🙂

      As usually, I’ve been pushing further more on the cut up technique and this one is my favorite poem. 🙂

    1. Thank you yassy.

      I’ve been experimenting a lot with cut ups and seeing the end results to how chance can randomize our dreams and its out of sequence in creative writing.

      Lots more to come and they’ll get even weirder.

      This poem was based on my dreams with being in a haunted dingy house with everything in itself rearranging in sequence and finding out layer after layer the madness of one’s dreams.

  2. Your poems are so unique, so signature, so mind-bending! And I love that you put process notes in the comments. 🤗🌱🙏I too am very glad you’re back.

    1. When I dream about things the next day I write those dreams in detail and once I’ve done so. I throw them into the ‘cut up machine’ and hit randomize and the end result brings out the future and what that dream can tell the reader or writer. It’s a fun experiment and I use the cut up technique all the time. Have you heard of the ‘cut up technique’? It started by ‘William S. Burroughs’ and ‘brion gysin’.

      More poems to come this Wednesday. 🙂

          1. Wow, those were very cool. Thanks Charlie. I love hearing Bowie talk process. And in the second one: “You cut into the present, the future leaks out.” Love this quote!!

            1. You are welcome. The process of doing cut ups is challenging and fun at the same time. I do cut up poems a lot and every time I use the method its worth it. 🙂

              Burroughs quote is the best thing ever. I’m glad you enjoyed those videos and hope it inspired you in some way. 🙂

    1. Thank you my friend.

      Well, I had a dream about being in a haunted dingy house filled with paintings that are suffering from Anemia and many rearrangements that set itself to randomize the visitors sequence of events. It was crazy and truly scary. I manage to cut up the poem in my version of the sequence and this is what the results gave. 🙂

  3. The 3-D printer in the Phantoms
    office uses only the recycled nylon
    rope used to hang martyred spruiks.
    Dragged out of Kavorkian Shopping
    Mall, kicking an screaming.
    They cannot hide from the Great
    Sacro Navigator. The strepitous,
    seeking collective skull nirvana,
    dance the Amphibian Bollywood
    Viagra to the All Seeing Cassette.

  4. Hey Charlie 😉
    Where you going
    with that dictionary 📖
    in your hand ✋

    I’m going down
    to shred this baby ⚔️
    I caught it messing around 📚
    with yet another virus alien 👽
    So that’s the phantasmagorian plan

              1. You can shine your shoes
                and wear a suit
                You can comb your hair
                and look quite cute
                You can hide your face
                behind a smile
                One thing you can’t hide
                Is when you’re crippled inside
                You can wear a mask
                and paint your face
                You can call yourself
                the human race
                You can wear a collar and a tie
                One thing you can’t hide
                Is when you’re crippled inside
                ~ John Lennon

                1. A tin peened reindeer
                  Metalically hoofed on glass
                  Scorched cotton snowmen edged the corners
                  Flesh coloured powder mountains
                  Yellow lights melts cobwebbed articles
                  Vague wire tunnels resembling
                  Peeled flesh caterpillers
                  Housing very tiny red Christmas tree lights
                  The Nativity scene
                  Re-enacted in Ivory soap
                  A bone shade from age complete
                  With tiny straw manger
                  The Christ child its face replaced by an elephant’s head
                  Intricate lace cups each ear and bands the trunk

                  ~Don Van Vliet aka (Captain Beefheart)

                2. May the Zappa,
                  propagator of Moon Unit,
                  Dweezil, Diva, and Ahmet,
                  send his weasels
                  to rip the flesh
                  of John Stamos
                  so he may rest
                  in General Hospital 🙏

                3. Easy Rider
                  In a riot proof Hi Vis vest
                  atop of the Eiffel Tower
                  in the name of Tom Waits
                  sends down a golden shower
                  upon the heads of spruiks
                  who snort the Kavorkian Powder

                4. Bob Dobbs once met Kevorkian
                  inside the giant spaghetti monsters fruit toast.
                  They discussed the power of slack
                  and how humans we’re born with pink slack.
                  David Hasselhoff preached Minnesota
                  with his left leg in alphabetical order.

                5. “I scoff the Hoff!”
                  ~ Viagra Chemophobia

                  Wind turbines attached to David
                  Hasselhoff’s amputation stump
                  power the spaghetti monster’s pink phantasmagorian fruit.

                6. Woody Mandela, being easy
                  like Sunday morning,
                  and unaffected by chemophobia,
                  did the split with Banarama
                  after losing faith in Mike Patton.
                  “What is it!?”, Mike kept chanting
                  at the Black Jack Table of Nothing.

  5. Charlie!!! What a way to return, with what feels like an excavation of words; perhaps a journey into the depths of our inner worlds. I love these lines:

    “The chalk-gods 
seen as conjured 3D-printed suicide”

    The embodiment of suicide…. a physical yet chalky presence. So much could be said about this.

    So happy to read you again Charlie, I love the way your mind takes us places they’ve never been.

    1. What cause the excavation of tapping into the inner world was this:

      The lines of the conjured 3D-printed suicide is a dream I had of myself being trapped
      in this 3rd dimension of suicide that makes one feel completely empty and alone.

      My next couple of poems will really take any reader further down into a spiral of imaginative dreamscapes.

      1. What an awful dream Charlie “trapped
        in this 3rd dimension of suicide”. I’m pleased you harnessed it and turned it into these words. That music… it evokes all sorts of things in me.

        1. That’s why when I listen to electronic dark ambient music – the brain is triggered by a sense of emptiness and gets the creative heart into a mode of writing what the heart feels and no one should feel this way.

          Glad you listen to ‘The Haxan Cloack’. The man can evoke a lot just with noise.

  6. ……………………….Charlie,

    Thanks for your kindness !

    ——HOUSE OF ANEMIA——

    you’ve been living in the shadows for too long
    and avoiding the food pyramid
    and your childhood friend, anemia
    is opening windows to additional problems
    perhaps, you are full of chalk
    are you ready to join the other chalk-gods ?
    Charlie The Poet conjuring 3D-printed newborns
    the very thing that haunts you
    defying God and reproduction
    you mention suicide, angina, and Viagra
    because they are trigger words
    you try to hide your jaundice-eyes
    behind macaroni and cheese
    had you just mentioned macaroni
    it would have been sexual
    chalk-gods are tight lipped about sex
    chalk-gods never go to Dark Town
    but you could use an overdose of Miles Davis
    don’t worry if your dong telescopes in size

    1. Full angina/
      avoiding conjuring pyramid
      and additional macaroni-and-cheese.

      Two lipped god living you!

      suicide shadows paused
      for reproduction chalk-gods.

      anemia dark defying Haunted telescopes Viagra.

      chalk-gods Jaundice-eyes –
      they 3d-printed overdose clown-town
      and other fruit LSD cake.

  7. A Martin Scorsese celebration of
    tribal refugee turkey. Cranberry now
    sleeps with the fishes, and wishes
    a Hit Man Christmas upon the
    Godfather of deep probing aliens.

      1. In the bull ring of Ne Niro Prosciutto,
        even Joe Pesci in slo mo could fry
        the bacon of those early Roman Kings;

        All the early Roman kings
        In their sharkskin suits
        Bow ties and buttons
        High top boots
        Drivin’ the spikes in
        Blazin’ the rails
        Nailed in their coffins
        In top hats and tails
        Fly away, little bird
        Fly away, flap your wings
        Fly by night
        Like the early Roman kings
        All the early Roman kings
        In the early, early morn’
        Coming down the mountain
        Distributing the corn
        Speeding through the forest
        Racing down the track
        You try to get away
        They drag you back
        Tomorrow is Friday
        We’ll see what it brings
        Everybody’s talking
        ‘Bout the early Roman kings
        They’re peddlers and they’re meddlers
        They buy and they sell
        They destroyed your city
        They’ll destroy you as well
        They’re lecherous and treacherous
        Hell-bent for leather
        Each of ’em bigger
        Than all men put together
        Sluggers and muggers
        Wearing fancy gold rings
        All the women goin’ crazy
        For the early Roman kings
        I can dress up your wounds
        With a blood-clotted rag
        I ain’t afraid to make love
        To a bitch or a hag
        If you see me comin’
        And you’re standing there
        Wave your handkerchief
        In the air
        I ain’t dead yet
        My bell still rings
        I keep my fingers crossed
        Like them early Roman kings
        I can strip you of life
        Strip you of breath
        Ship you down
        To the house of death
        One day
        You will ask for me
        There’ll be no one else
        That you’ll wanna see
        Bring down my fiddle
        Tune up my strings
        I’m gonna break it wide open
        Like the early Roman kings
        I was up on black mountain
        The day Detroit fell
        They killed ’em all off
        And they sent ’em to hell
        Ding dong daddy
        You’re coming up short
        Gonna put you on trial
        In a Sicilian court
        I’ve had my fun
        I’ve had my flings
        Gonna shake ’em all down
        Like the early Roman kings
        ~ Bob Dylan

        1. So impressed with all you do
          Tried so hard to be like you
          Flew too high and burnt the wing
          Lost my faith in everything
          Lick around divine debris
          Taste the wealth of hate in me
          Shedding skin, succumb defeat
          This machine is obsolete
          Made the choice to go away
          Drink the fountain of decay
          Tear a hole exquisite red
          Fuck the rest and stab it dead
          Broken, bruised, forgotten sore
          Too fucked up to care anymore
          Poisoned to my rotten core
          Too fucked up to care anymore
          Broken, bruised, forgotten sore
          Too fucked up to care anymore
          Poisoned to my rotten core
          Too fucked up to care anymore
          In the back off the side far away
          Is a place where I hide, where I stay
          Tried to say, tried to ask I needed to
          All alone by myself, where were you?
          How could I ever think it’s funny how?
          Everything that swore it wouldn’t change, is different now
          Just like you would always say, “We’ll make it through”
          Then my head fell apart and where were you?
          How could I ever think it’s funny how?
          Everything you swore would never change, is different now
          Like you said, “You and me make it through”
          Didn’t quite fell apart, where the fuck were you?

          ~ Nine Inch Nails

          1. One evening as the sun went down
            And the jungle fire was burning
            Down the track came a hobo hikin’
            And he said, “Boys, I’m not turning
            I’m headed for a land that’s far away
            Besides the crystal fountains
            So come with me, we’ll go and see
            The Big Rock Candy Mountains.

            In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
            There’s a land that’s fair and bright
            Where the handouts grow on bushes
            And you sleep out every night
            Where the boxcars all are empty
            And the sun shines everyday
            All the birds and the bees
            And the cigarette trees
            The lemonade springs
            Where the bluebird sings
            In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

            In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
            All the cops have wooden legs
            And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth
            And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs
            The farmers’ trees are full of fruit
            And the barns are full of hay
            Oh, I’m bound to go
            Where there ain’t no snow
            Where the rain don’t fall
            The wind don’t blow
            In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

            In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
            You never change your socks
            And the little streams of alcohol
            Come trickling down the rocks
            The brakemen have to tip their hats
            And the railroad bulls are blind
            There’s a lake of stew
            And of whiskey too
            You can paddle all around them
            In a big canoe
            In the Big Rock Candy Mountain

            In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
            The jails are made of tin
            And you can walk right out again
            As soon as you are in
            There ain’t no short-handled shovels
            No axes, saws, or picks
            I’m going to stay
            Where you sleep all day
            Where they hung the jerk
            That invented work
            In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

            ~ Harry McClintock

            1. “Squeeze Me Macaroni”

              I wanna lock Betty Crocker in the kitchen
              And knock her upper during supper
              Clutter up her butter gutter
              Said a hostess Ding Dong wrapped an egg roll around my wong
              While Dolly Madison proceeded to ping my pong

              Your Milky Way is M’n’M in your britches
              And I’ll tell you, Baby Ruth, it looks mighty delicious
              Keep blowing my gum, ’cause here I come
              I’m gonna get you all sticky with the Bubble Yum, yeah

              Knick knack paddywhack
              And give your dog a bone, baby
              Knick knack paddywhack
              And give your dog a bone, baby

              I was givin’ some head to some French bread
              Was a four course orgy on the spread of my bed
              French kissin’ French fries in my Froot of the Looms
              I get deeper penetration with a fork and a spoon

              I got yogurt meat loaf smeared all over my ass
              Stick my weenie in two buns and then give it the gas
              Sour cream from a spleen into Levi jeans
              I’m gonna bust the seams with the refried beans

              Ronald McDonald just loves to be fondled
              With Big Mac he’ll fuck it like a Chicken McNugget
              Colonel Sanders wants to goose Granny’s loose caboose
              Gonna give her a boost with that Kentucky fried juice

              Sooper doop poop scoop, loop de loop, chicken coop
              Shoot some hoop, top sirloin from the groin
              Topped with dick cheese, sneeze, wheeze
              From the skeez disease, woo

              Knick knack paddywhack
              And give your dog a bone, baby
              Knick knack paddywhack
              And give your dog a bone, baby

              Take a dump, baby, squirt some gravy
              Pour some sugar on me, honey, make it brown and runny
              Give a little Flavor Flav, back from the grave
              Gonna burn some toast, pump some humpin’ rump roast

              Knick knack paddywhack, jump in the sack, in fact
              Jerk the smack and crack Jack from the back
              Bananarama or ramabanana
              Fuckin’ Barry Manilow on the Copacabana

              Squeeze me macaroni, slop your face with my bologna
              Squeeze me macaroni, slop your face with my bologna
              Squeeze me macaroni, slop your face with my bologna
              Squeeze me macaroni, slop your face with my

              You gotta siphon the spinach, you gotta cream the corn
              Sperm scrambles the eggs and a meal is born
              Cookin’ like a beginner but I’m goin’ up in her
              I had Fritos for lunch I’m havin’ bush for dinner

              Chef Boyardee and the Three Musketeers
              Shove Charleston Chews in their rears like queers
              “Holy moly, Guacamole!” said my Chips Ahoy!
              Gonna pinch a ravioli on the Pillsbury Doughboy

              Knick knack paddywhack
              And give your dog a bone, baby
              Knick knack paddywhack
              And give your dog a boner, baby

              We came to potty
              We came to potty down your throat

              ~Mr. Bungle

              1. Well, I set my monkey on the log 🐒
                And ordered him to do the dog 🐶
                He wagged his tail and shook his head
                And he went and did the Cat instead 🙀
                He’s a weird monkey, very funky 🐵
                ~ Bob Dylan

                1. Since making whoopee
                  became all the rage
                  It’s even got to the old birdcage
                  And my canary has circles
                  under his eyes

                  He used to whistle
                  ‘The Prisoner’s Song’
                  Now he does snake-hips
                  the whole day long
                  My poor canary has circles
                  under his eyes

                  His only pals
                  are the Yellow Lark
                  And just a tiny sparrow
                  But I am scared
                  when he’s in the park
                  He leaves the straight
                  and narrow
                  I’ve raised this birdie
                  in a manner so strict
                  Yet I’ve a feeling
                  I’m being tricked
                  ‘Cause my canary has circles
                  under his eyes

                  ~ Captain Matchbox Whoopee Band

                2. Drowning in your eyes, the brown pools overflow
                  Immobilize and hypnotize, gimme the chills from below
                  I’m talkin’ to myself, thinking that you are here
                  I turn around, into the black your shadow disappears

                  Blood freezes in my veins with your frigid touch
                  My vital signs are vanished by your gravity into mush
                  You’re so beautiful you scare me to death
                  My hair stands on end with the warmth of your breath

                  If I look at myself in the mirror I see a part of you
                  Unfolding mystery
                  Your magnetism pulls me closer and out of the blue

                  You give me the goosebumps
                  You send shivers up and down my spine
                  You give me the goosebumps
                  You make me quiver and stumble my mind
                  You give me the goosebumps
                  My knees weaken when I look in your eyes
                  You give me the goosebumps
                  For my love I can find no disguise

                  Beneath the light of the moon I soothe your neck with a kiss
                  I feel the sting of your blood trickle onto my lips
                  You’re so delicious I taste your poison juice on my tongue
                  Infinity is killing me and you where we belong

                  Passion’s grip around your throat, strangling in a cartoon
                  You ooze between my fingers gasping for your last daily wound
                  I watch you suffocate my pulse accelerates to a blur
                  A tear falls from my eyes love chokes in a slur

                  If I look at myself in the mirror I see a part of you
                  Unfolding mystery
                  Your magnetism pulls me closer and closer…

                  You give me the goosebumps
                  You send shivers up and down my spine
                  You give me the goosebumps
                  You make me quiver and stumble my mind
                  You give me the goosebumps
                  My knees weaken when I look in your eyes
                  You give me the goosebumps
                  For my love I can find no disguise

                  ~Mr. Bungle

                3. “Tourniquet Man”

                  I’ve seen the only living traces flicker in the sulphur
                  And the ones who do believe me place your favor
                  Before you lay your question down there’s a matter of the payment
                  To you I slipped on crooked sores in conclaves that you bothered

                  Let me be your Tourniquet Man
                  Let me keep you as a favor
                  Let me be your Tourniquet Man
                  Let me keep you as a favor
                  When I hear your fingers, they will spell my name
                  As I trade the faces of the holders

                  Let me be your Tourniquet Man
                  Let me keep you as a favor
                  Let me be your Tourniquet Man
                  Let me keep you as a favor

                  I can’t diminish anymore if I choose to dissolve in you
                  So much we can lose
                  I can’t diminish anymore if I choose to dissolve in you
                  So much we can lose
                  I can’t diminish anymore if I choose to dissolve in you
                  So much we can lose

                  ~The Mars Volta

      1. you are a wizard at this, I know I have said that before, but you continually amaze me with your talent and sensitivity. well done my friend. i learn and appreciate many new things about the world and life when I come to your table of words.

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