Bugolgi Apparatus

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The Kinks the middle school history teacher  feels like she’s losing her mind  covering the state test in roomsfull of kids who can’t see why  we have to speak english the president’s insane  what’s the point of all these meaningless names and dates the middle school history teacher’s  got two of her own two hours away in the middle class suburb inherited from the divorce  her kids stop to wonder  why she cries in the car  insisting on piano lessons and no phones after hours the middle school history teacher  told me I could have her job  she’s thinking about Florida  somewhere somehow  and I’m the substitute  with my fourth grade work  a book of origami  and voices from cartoons 

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loneliness business  in the loneliness business  exporting world-wide  twenty-four/seven  internet has been a boon we ship  all over the world  figure if you’ve been  in front of a tv  the rest is easy  unlocking a potential  casting that gaze  over the horizon  creating a longing  dissatisfaction  with everything you’ve known and the rest  well is out of your hands 

Weird sometimes we’re just canceling each other out gonna get weirder that’ll be better gonna need your sleep dreams will interfere gonna get weirder wear your pink sweater gonna feel colder living outside of these fantasies of yours

I look for my father in the eyes of men   sometimes I see him everywhere sometimes he’s hidden behind decisions   I don’t fully understand   even as an adult I feel myself move like my father touching my belly and smiling at people for no reason just passing on the memetic energy   my mother’s absence remains however   a tear in the fabric of space and time  

Venn Diagram

Intimacy by  Robert C Gaulke Wednesday 3rd October 2018 8:05 pm We climbed together Higher and higher Until the air was too thin For heavy things Like clothes Attitudes and moods  And when we reached The top we were Surprised to find Nothing Not a drop of Moisture  Both of us swallowed By a gigantic Whole

everything you love is born out of tension  and resistance to  things as they are you might be feted  amongst friends as some kind of  worthwhile person but that doesn’t go  very far against  a world trying  to destroy itself

Your Hair

States Matter Reach out and I'll be there Texting on my phone  Head full of ambitions Fears I barely share We pass through one another Always in phases Although we look solid We're dense with gas If I could bond with you Even for a short time  Something greater  Could happen Something we can't  Fully appreciate  In our current  Indeterminate states

Thursdays Bring the drugs I’ll get the beer Come over I’ll be here   I want to feel up my solitude with you   We can go out We can eat something Talk about people   Who don’t mean anything I want to feel up my solitude with you   There’s nothing tricky about it   You don’t have to move around   Be in the know or even   Have something to think about   I want to feel up my solitude with you   there’s nothing sexy about it there’s nothing sexy about it

Tribulations baby I need you so much I’d do anything for you I think of you night and day spending all my love on you because I can’t think of anything else with lines from a pop song we don’t talk about the world just our own emotions so let’s burn down banks with love kill administrations with our touch takeover workspaces with thoughts torture the cia just because then we can get back to what we do not waste our imaginations on anything so obscure  as our own tribulations

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Battle Lines your police guard on a horse tipped to action  in the park shield lowered  advancing her mount squadron pounding  hippie drums waving her baton  in the smoke  coming down   like Joan of Arc this is progress of some kind the chant echoes in minds   on both sides of the battle lines