Flodis Issue 16

eZine lover (@eZine)

Published in 

Flowers of Disruption

 · 5 years ago

  

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    flowers of disruption #16 -- 08.08.99 -- by trilobyte 
         == the zine for tasha & anjee ==     

(*&)(*&)(*&)(*&)(*&)(*&)(*&)(*&)(*&)(*&)(*&)(*&)(*&)(*&)(*&)(*&) 

Eat my radishes, pearly pork player.  I planted them in the lawn for you to 
be able to wipe off their dirt and bite into them, they are dry like paper 
but tasty as a stew, you bake them and you fry them til they suit you.  I 
wanted to sell them to an established restaurant but they already had their 
own supplier of radishes, so now I am giving them all to you.  They had the 
potential to make me a lot of money, I hope you know what kind of a 
sacrifice I'm enduring when giving these to you. 

Farmers in Minnesota grow long white beards so they can swat away at 
mosquitoes resting on arms and the chest.  Women married to the farmers 
don't grow long white beards because they can't, but they grow their blonde 
hair long and wear it in ponytails.  They can swat their back then, and 
they can also cover up their nipples while barechested or cold.   

If you attached the farmer or his wife (or both) to the center of a spinning 
circle, hair would go flying everywhere and upset everything in the air 
nearby.  You could turn the farmer into a bit for a very large drill, and 
use his head and beard as a buffer when you wax your car.  Or you could put 
a spike at the end of his beard and use him as a weed-whacker. 

People from Minnesota are small, and they go to college there because the 
buildings are tall and white.  Oral Roberts has a university too, but you 
only go there if you've been stuck doing so.  God is waiting when no other 
opportunies have knocked.  Once the opportunity bird doesn't knock itself 
unconscious by ramming itself into your side window, you've got no other 
choice but to find a different way to leave.  You could be a happy 
housewife, but until that issue of Housekeeping has told you to grow a 
geometrical garden of radishes and slime pie, you won't enter the next 
sphere of existence.  Ask Tom, he knows all about it. 

Hello, Tom.  You are a nude stick puppet. 

        Hello, I'm Tom the stick puppet and I'm nude. 
        I worship Beowulf, who saved our village from despair. 
        He raped my wife and I am thankful. 
        He is a great man who needs no armor. 
        She's having his child but I'll pretend to be father. 
        He can't maintain a full time job. 
        He can't pay child support. 
        But he saved our village. 
        I thank him for that. 
        He fed my wife this poem by Aster 
            and then she puked it up because 
            she had too much to drink that night. 

 o   / 
/|\ 
/'\ 

0=======--/------_____----//---0 

    CRAYONS 

    once there was a girl 
    she had a little cat 
    the cat was brown and white 
    it liked to chase and kill 

    once there was a little cat 
    whose name was sid-poso 
    it didn't have any fur 
    or claws or teeth or 

    once there was a pen who 
    was white and blue and black 
    the pen liked ice cream 
    but not very much 

    once there was a desk 
    with paper all over it 
    and so the rabbit jumped 
    over and away in the hills 

    the end. 

0=======--/------_____----//---0 

 

Tom is a very rude nude stick puppet, talking about rape and alcohol.  But 
the truth is, kids, the two often go together.  So if you're near one, try 
to stay away from the other.  Or just stay away from both, and then you'll 
be really safe.  Throwing up poems is unsafe too. 

Yummy Hungarians translated the Bible for me the other night and it made me 
think about a lot of words written on sheets of parchment.  They were all 
scratched there for a reason, and that reason is that I asked them to write 
them for me!  There used to be a long of Hungarian translators with open 
shops downtown but now it seems that they're all moving out to the suburbs, 
with this damn urban sprawl eating up our valuable farmland to have 
buildings in shopping malls and monestaries.   

Who makes the rules around here?  I'll tell you -- the consumers.  They 
dictate the price.  They buy what's nice.  They inspire the artsy to know 
how not to live.  Artsies avoid money and overpriced necessities.  Find 
your black clothing at the Salvation Army, then you can walk the streets 
like the proud and important person you are.  Stop in where I am, get some 
coffee, sit on my lap, entice your black-tights-clad legs around my waist.  
Show me what it is to express love while asleep.   

Twiddle your fingers and watch me play dumb. 

                                      ŠÕÕª                 .-. 
  Š»ÕÕÕº  Šª      Š»ÕÕÕÕº       ŠÕª          ŠŠÕÕÕÕÕÕÕª    | |  this was an 
  ††      ††      ††  ŠÕª       † †   †ÕՆ   †††           | | honestly bad 
  †»ÕÕÕº  ††      ††  † †  ŠÕÕÕՆՆ   †  †   †††           | |   time-waster 
  ††      ††      ††  † †  †    † †   †  †   †»ÕÕÕÕÕÕÕº    | | email-box 
  ††      ŠÕÕÕÕÕª †ŠÕÕª †  †    † †   †  †          »»»    | |    filler 
  »º      »ÕÕÕÕÕº »»ÕÕºÕº  »ÕÕÕÕ»Õº   »ÕÕº   »»ÕÕÕÕÕÕÕº    | |   from 
.----------------------------------------------------------| |     trilobyte 
`----------------------------------------------------------`-' 
          flodis / flowers of disruption #16 / 08.08.99 / trilobyte@hoe.nu 
     tell your friends to dream in mind with flodis