Houdini Telephoned his Hemorrhoids and Hung Up

 


A timeless he

died imitated.
Anemia slurring –
Houdini, did you telephoned
your hemorrhoid
and hung up?

Like eddy vulture
picking at the
sentimental astrologist.

Technicolor minutes silique.

Pin IP’s on the murder screen.
And mirror cyanide calyx
and a godless sip.

The crease on your shoulder
advances
like a written scourge prolapsing
in its chapter photograph.

To himself
a rule
to others
a cheerful hellebore

Citizens of planet earth
form a straight line;
we’re about to implant you
with religious bootlegs.

Beliefs & veracity
compromised
by charismatic reruns.

A smile obtuse
twisted
through superstitious peepers,
tempting me
to corrode
your ill song.

Amalgamate xoanon
bare a strange initial
printed on the back
of a nephilim.
Not necronomicon polonaise
a swelling type brigade?

What trickery froths para-astute?
Allow me to demonstrate
a mirage of bequest phthalo.

Summon lotus-eater
summon azimuth

Your face clammy
edgy
exhibitionist
bewildered.

What’s your favorite fear?
Let me guess it for you, the Abramelin.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Houdini Telephoned his Hemorrhoids and Hung Up – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or 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 is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero the Poet and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Snowman Sliced His Throat and Bled out ABC’s

 

Theremin hands,
de-extinct the anthropomorphic priest –
It bled out ABC’s profusely
for the R.I. clips.

Carolingian skin
writes its initials
in the snowman’s throat.
Sliced & diced
smoky thick substance
parades the death popularity day.

Panaceas impinge!
Synthetic shhh!

Exsanguinate!
Isolate!

Low-life meal bones
digraph of 2’s & Chaldean.

You synonymously
verse yourself
gleamed
unpieced
& hypovolemic.

Mr. Golden Cohen
what bait scone do the nadir expel?
Cinquain horses
& the greeting remark events.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of The Snowman Sliced His Throat and Bled out ABC’s – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or 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 is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero the Poet and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Starlit Speculation – This is Charlie Zero

A 3rd Review of My Book by: Kristine Brown the Poet

Crumpled Paper Cranes

Introduced to Björk and Tori Amos at the age of eleven, and remembering echoes of of a swarming crowd as Shirley Manson stated, “I’m only happy when it rains,” it takes a lot to unnerve me through words, medical terminology, and images I hope will prompt more than just some kind of lucid, false, epileptic seizure.

Perhaps the challenge in impressing me lies in my affinity for the experimental, cracked into three large shards. Charlie Zero’s This Robot Dreams Inside a Plastic Soul stirred my intrigue as the sun prods an amusement park worker to wriggle in his four-legged, alpaca wool suit. I snuggled into the blankets covering my macintosh red futon, took a minute or so between pieces, and thought, “Damn, Charlie. I’d imagine LSD does come to a halt, but I’m not quite ready.” For the record, I’ve never tried LSD.

Charlie’s writing reminds me of wind chimes…

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Quote Amnesia Mr. Funny Finger

 

Mr. Amnesia internet –
my fingers pressed against
your complex keyboard.

Diencephalon
swallows the engine black world.
Bulk Franken
quotes Mr. Therapist nudnik.
Children stalk dilemma –
transgenders desire persuasion.

Enjoy rigor mortis.
The icons impulse,
the episode prophets Incest,
Lilly itchy is morbidly funny
when she’s not trying.

The morning egret –
dilatory waits for death –

Butcher us, the homage debut fatal.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Quote Amnesia Mr. Funny Finger – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or 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 is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero the Poet and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Touch my Saliva it’s Pulsing


Dear amylase –

it has come to our attention
that the department of touched saliva –
is investigating the parotid fat
and the where five void.

Pacinians
hunt the beat most perennial witch.
Frown thighs
suppressed by the epileptic ones.

My soaked glands are pulsing –
enzymes titillate
in her sensual doused fangs.

I quickly became the Ptyalin.
Lubricate me –
throb me –
Aren’t we closer to your dazed defrock light?

The haptics furthermore –
decussate beneath the fine starch nests wounds.
Stimuli through way cleave taboo.

Major mostly report!
The rhythmical hanged cross
sniffs identified Indentations
between your finger fast initiations.

Acuity thoughts –
burst in soft
alien vixen treats.

You should partially-consume yourself
in a world of the so-called jump therapy.

Permitted if it’s even forbidden…

A white galimatias –
centers its errors
within the extract somesthesis.

To the vilify modality –
it kallikrein’s the akhnaten heart.
OSU jugglers rough up
the beings ascending star.

Your seductive venom –
vibrates the soup bone belladonna.
The why type on the other hand –
de-sheds from the Egyptian theme paint noise…

~Sincerely the other bacteria

 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Touch my Saliva it’s Pulsing – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or 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 is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero the Poet and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Punctually Pissing Roses


This isn’t a story about gonorrhea.

In fact, quite the opposite…
Imagine pissing roses
in front of armed cops.
Shower away your abusive power.

Hey, Los Angeles, how are you?

Have you hung sarcasm on a cross, yet?

Imagine world peace raped dignity.
By unlawful consensual standards,
you’d have to say please.

Hello, conscience, how’s it going?

Not good. What’s wrong?

Prime minister rat-pubican frosty
is now taking over Baskin Robbins.
Our country won’t be
of mix flavors anymore.
We’re divided; we’re stuck with vanilla ice.

Imagine burping demo-cats.
I assume a sniff movie about cats & pizza-gate.
Let’s not think analytical here…
hence ask yourself;
if I were Hannibal Lecter
which conspiracy parts would I eat?

The answer is simple: easy.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Punctually Pissing Roses – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or 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 is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero the Poet and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Chant Acne you Cuddly Nuclear Missile

 

“Myrmidon, chants twice necrosis!”
Lutheran scar, peptide acne –
how unsafe does your oblivion year produce?

Rhizome seaweed,
uncloak the papule gulch
around dead scree calve.

A slouch army

A Buddhist cow

A time acid teething

Caliphate formulations macrophage…

Absinthe speaks spiritual oils –
they cuddle me
like a missile.
Cry in horror when you see follicles foist.

And it happens so…
Oh! How your mantra activates…
A where bathe air in the form however.

Tibetans sieve
after the nuclear performer.
Warfare periods, toys love antibiotics.

Where’s your god bomb money?

Can I tuck you to bed plimsoll?
Sure, just let the dying Catholics
do the pill popping first.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Chant Acne you Cuddly Nuclear Missile – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or 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 is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero the Poet and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.