Lucille Ball Crucifies Ice Cream and Karma Sutras Zombie Wizards

 

My name is beavis
I cook for Hitler’s Volkswagen –
Spielberg handles the ice cream,
Mel Gibson crucifies Lettuce.
Prayer gives you Howard Sterns,
like Madonna sex changing
into her gift reward card.

Hello, Paula Deen –
care for some racist butter?
Yes! And may Alec Baldwin
continue giving me bj’s –
so zombie wizards and George Clooney
can co-exist in economical bourbon.

Think physics before
solving macadamia salty nuts.
Arby’s & FBI
put grapes on 9/11
using karma sutra
as brochures to Disneyland adventure.

Lucille Ball, finally!
You own Frances Coppola’s peppermint stick.
Life is a piece of cumberbatch.
There’s no telling how the CIA
could ever out run, a pancake mixer.

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Lucille Ball Crucifies Ice Cream and Karma Sutras Zombie Wizards – 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.

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Marlon Brando Prophesied Satan’s Anti-aging Testicle Juice

 

I’m tired of hipster beards
living off gypsies & artsy fartsy.
Johnnie Cochran paraphrased it:

“Flop at the box office,
or drink martini juice.”

A famous quote by: Testicle Namaste.

Marlon Brando
coined the term: “Science”
back in the 1700s. How?
He mumbled gibberish
prophesies that entailed; Nazi hairdryers,
DMV chlamydia, & cub scout illuminati.

Oh! So, you’re saying;
yeast infections we’re part
of an elaborate John Travolta
to further their anti-aging bird shit?
Yep, slaveantology
imprisons 7-UP.
They know if you consume it –
it’ll make mick jagger feel horny again.

Gene Simmons…
you trademarked Satan’s abs?
No wonder your soul
is half gazpacho & half psoriasis.
And speaking of Toys ‘r’ us…
How’s life treating you in Barcelona?
Hopefully, soapy and, aunt jemima free…

 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Marlon Brando Prophesied Satan’s Anti-aging Testicle Juice – 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.

To my WordPress friends, I am back!

My apologies for my silent absence.

I’ve moved to a new place
and spent this whole month moving in
and unpacking things and helping out a lot.

Got internet connection now!
and I am ready to unleash new poetry works. 

Hope you are all doing well and I missed you all.
I’ll be catching up on all your works,
I’m so happy to be here back on WordPress
and excited to read what you all have posted.

Expect a new post soon.

~Sincerely, Charlie Zero the Poet

Fluffy Corpse Blush the Melting Fart

 

By accretion
by men baked personas –
Annex restores the dance destroyed morals.

Intestines heartwarming –
you preserve
the Christian way spunk.

Do accidentally release
this facial cosmetic fart.
Dissolution stays fluffy.

The KDA black crinoline accedes.
The bells fly rouge
abused my avocado corpse.

As blush prokaryotes –
it tells its story
of the drugstore souls
who birth an oak variant.

Her strawberries
turned to human Lips
her cat
turned to 88 vagina voices.

Bereft this ship bilk –
Bloat out erythema
and wear it to symbolize idiopathic.

Dystopian 9141
the webcam animals
hijack your memory.
They make you put a gun to your temple
you smile under god
you mock socialism
you polish the myogenic –
don’t attempt to humanize a maggot.

Cut/convey

Sprout programs & Mixture Wings

This idol motion
dune squeaks.
It perplexes
it dirges
it didactics.

Collapse the red contusion –
space blowflies the drink
or so the emphasis evince.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Fluffy Corpse Blush the Melting Fart – 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.

Telepathic Gonzo

 

Raoul!
You telepathic gonzo –
You don’t need
eyes, mouth, ears.
Grow 6 hands, cover them.

Blindfold the impression mystics.

Sir, Balanovski
taints truth –
amaryllis shedding
despondency
sensitivity
a misguided statistic.

Of museums
fixing the fiction god extrasensory…

Art pettifogging…
Art targets shock…

Bias Thompson
your wisdom deflating –
walls atrophied, Babylon dehisced.

To the decoy protagonist –
oh! Steal profanities continuity.
Pornography toad’s
chess play to a battle mating season
and suddenly Sinclair decries ultimatum?

Randomize controversy, this thing we call percent.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Telepathic Gonzo – 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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