Wolfgang Plucks out his Symphony Madness


He sits malaise

his madness,
a psychiatry home
of muttering concerto.

219 saints engraved sonata.

Sir Wolfgang basso –
blizzard his pinnacle hive.
Your apocalypse glossy,
symphonies tender
the evening pluck pelisse.

The techno corpus –
prefixed the imitation anthology.
Code vex 618537 –
thus unconventionally speaking.

We call it Odin’s method.
We aimlessly want dementia to wink.

Cavalier piano man…
skims through ribbed irrational.

I should be committed ecclesiastic.
However, comorbidity seems complacent.
The concomitant epilators
feed the requiem danger –
pieces of you move like riddles.
So what are you waiting for unlock my clue.

 

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Wolfgang Plucks out his Symphony Madness – 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.

Concescastors Slurped Off Decayed Sounds (A Collaboration with Nathalie Purpleanais and I)


I kissed a ghost –

its lips take me to a sensual disillusionment,
brought on by a textured touch papier-mâché –
exacerbated by a beached whale
who whispers weird tales in my ear
as I am sipping on my beer.

Concescastors summoned Babylon.
The subgenius behemoth
unshackles all the deluded minds
that hit the asylum walls.

Bleeding thoughts! Said the salamander surgeons –
Who discovered a vile tantric;
slithering around the world
& against the mint galactic blues.

Unholy communion—
cerebral abrasions—

A broken compass needle swinging back and forth –
sanity catatonic, insanity seducing north.

Decopygmenes slurp evidence off a decayed dictionary.
The words plea for help!
The words laugh soundly!

I’m sitting underneath the lemon tree
where Aristophanes contemplates
and studies the honey bees
unconsciously touching the crease in his sleeve.

They beg to slip in the shoe void Amsterdam.
Was the mirror not stretching integrity
enough to fall on its own compassion?

Certainly, Van Gogh penniless and in despair –
tried to drown himself in the deep sunflower fields
which had long haunted his dreams –
Too bad though, the dreadful diamonds called out his bluff.

 

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet & Nathalie Purpleanais

All rights Reserved.

No part of Concescastors Slurped off Decayed Sounds – 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 and Nathalie Purpleanais works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

 

I’ve had the most honor and pleasure to have collaborated with Nathalie Purpleanais. She’s an incredible writer, brilliant mind, and intellectually creative.  Please visit her page – her work is a must read and very important. 

https://arwenaragornstar.com/

Thank you Nathalie. 🙂

 

 

 

Her Tongue Forms Gills in Testaments


A sound injured moth

cries out for the monk.
Socrates stands tall –
mimicking the taming print.

Her tech talk drivels,
malfunctioning beside
your vomitorium sheets.

Her tongue forms gills in testaments.

Vera soma
objectifies your disproportion text.
Happiness feels nauseous.
It spews depressed introverts.

Joy grows frail –
its foul odor covered in emails
and marked phrases.

The M loops rumbling –
papilla bumps interrupting –

The cheek man –
drinks from the remnant diverticulum,
Peshitta
give me your apologetic buttons.
Freudian artificial – blinds the 2nd exile –
Jerusalem opens her legs wide,
pierce this pain in your v-shaped instinct.

 

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Her Tongue Forms Gills in Testaments – 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.

My Overrated Constipation


Mr. Society T.V. speaking –

for your instructions:
please use your remote controls
and press all of my erection buttons.
Every channel you see is overrated,
blah, blah, blah, just like my constipation.

Instagram selfies annoy me –
When I look at them I feel overrated.
Constipation agrees.

Last week on Election Day –
I waited long hours for this Viagra to work.
Funny thing though,
it wasn’t Viagra, it was NyQuil.
I got tired & sleepy on my overrated bed.
The next morning –
I woke up to hear some devastating news.
Constipation lost against white toilet.

Opinions in this country overrated.
Penis? Or vagina?
Either way republican penises always win.
America land of testosterone, home of the ovaries –
the entire globe feels constipated.

What do superheroes & herpes
have in common? Both overrated.
Bill Cosby’s constipation worsens.

Vladimir Putin, Kim Jong-un, & I –
had a threesome the other day.
It got sweaty, bloody, overrated & of course constipated.

 

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of My Overrated Constipation – 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.

New UPDATE: To All My WordPress Friends

Hello! Everyone to all my friends!

I know I’m late on this and I’ve been busy.
So here we go.

This past Sunday’s event at ‘Studio Theatre’ was incredibly amazing.
17 people attended the evening. I’m glad there weren’t a whole lot of people, because otherwise – I would’ve felt more pressure and really nervous. First and foremost, I want to report to you all that I did a great job and not once did I mess up. Confidence is a key builder.

Bad news though, unfortunately no one recorded this event live.
I know some of you requested to be. I had no camera with me or phone.
However, I can express in short brief what the experience was like.

Being on stage in front of 17 people is like a rush of pure excitement.
You feel like a rock star, you have the whole world at the palm of your hands. That’s what this felt. I kept in good communication as I was reading my poems. Looking at the crowd and making the listeners laugh.
I read 10 poems which is a first for me, because before when I was featured 3 times, the minimum of poetry to read was 7.

Oh! Did I mention there was an A&Q?
Yes, in the beginning before I read the host of the event surprised me with an A&Q. I won’t get into what he asked me.
Let’s just say there we’re talks of William Burroughs, Alejandro Jodorowsky, & Captain Beefheart.

I didn’t sell any of my books, its’ alright though. I’ve already sold enough, but I will make more. The point to all of this is I had a great time and I’m glad I got to express my poetry to those few.

Also, to end this short experience of mine…
The host of the show wrote me a check for $50 bucks. Yay!!!
He told me every feature gets a check for participating, and for their good generosity.

Hope you all enjoyed this little true story of mine. Have a great weekend and I’ll be back for more new poetry on November 28 Monday.
I would love to post next week, but it’s the week of Thanksgiving. I know everyone is going to be really busy and occupied with family and all.

I’ll be back I promise…Happy early Thanksgiving and be well and love you all.

 

~Charlie Zero the Poet

My Milk inside Your Moist Oven


I had sex with political corruption

got it pregnant
and gave birth to twins – business & war.

I got a blow-job from the I.R.S
they stroked my banana so hard
I exploded a no income tax return.

I finger banged Wall Street
rubbed its financial stock,
alas, pure climax erupted like a water fall currency.

I want to lick Mother Nature’s nipples.
Squeeze her gentle breast –
Boom! California flooding the whore…

I want to pump my milk inside your moist oven.
Let us both burst together;
you and I, we can end the protest once and for all.

 

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of My Milk inside Your Moist Oven – 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.