spider hacksaw eats & is eaten

“Though i will sacrifice my soul for beauty, I am nothing without the ability to laugh. And more so, if i can not look into my minds eye, at the reflection of myself, lined up for eventual slaughter, as we all are, even as tears stream down my face, if i can not in that moment nor ever, laugh, then and now, as i stumble and fall, that shall be the greatest darkness of all.” —spider hacksaw

ream ember
ream member

four said in tree
for cent end tree
forced entry

come undone
conundrum

deaf hill make hair
devil may care

real edge on
reel ledge on

slot hers
peep hole

lie Kay
rat all snag

rat all snag by tsssssssss
Oliver hissssssssss bought tea
all liver my bought tea

art tick you lay shun
arctic yule ate shun

mute all eight shun
me you tall Asian

Roald Dahl said
rolled doll’s head

stay bowl eyes
surf five

eve all
real itch in

too knight
to more row
four if or

___________________________________________
tick / spy door hag saw / spider hacksaw / ©2014

“The Cat Out of the Bag” by spider hacksaw.

“The sun was too hot and burning all day,
man-made global warming had made it that way
so we put on our bullet proof solar flare suits
and we pulled on our anti-radiation socks and boots
then we donned our helmets and gloves just the same
and we went out to play in the playground of pain
sadly enough we were quickly reversed
when we heard Reverend Phelps’ family shouting their curse
they told us to go back inside and to pray
they said “God hates the world because we are gay!”
so we ran back inside and we bolted our door
so we sat on the floor in our rooms where we hide
we sat on our floor in our rooms and we cried
we thought of escaping by method of suicide
we thought of a new way that we had not yet tried
as we drew a diagram of ourselves tied to a plow
from somewhere we heard a muffled meow
we looked all about, then we opened the floor
we never knew it hid a trap door
laying below in the dim light and dirt
we heard it again, something sounded hurt
it moved just a little inside its burlap bag
“Better not touch it, it might be a fag!”
—came the voice of Fred Phelps and his ‘god hates’ parade
so we closed up the window and pulled down the shade
then we went back to the door in the floor,
where we stood and we stayed and we stared some more
it could be a rabid weasel or a clown with mad cow
we shuddered to think, then we heard that meow
whatever we do, we can’t open that sack
it could be our older brother, high on meth or crack
it could be a trick, or our mother huffing glue
or maybe the genesis of some pandemic flu
our buzzing brains thinking, our eyes staring wide
we had nowhere to put it and nowhere to hide
we could close the door in the floor and try to ignore it
go on about our lives as we’d done before it
but now the problem was that we knew it was there
and all we could do was look down and to stare
it could be something “ICKY!”, or it could be something “WOW!”
then we heard it again, that muffled meow
we scratched our heads, and we scratched our chin
it caused a gooseflesh to cover our skin
“There’s a Cat in that Bag, I know it for sure
listen real close you can hear it purr
“We should open that bag and let it out.”
I wanted to scream, i wanted to shout
but instead i just whispered and imagined a cure
something inside like frankincense and myrrh
something inside that might make us pure
it could be a baby Hitler or maybe a bomb
or it could be a baby Buddha that brings peace and calm
we could stand here forever and wonder what’s inside
or we can close this trap door and wait to decide
whatever we do it can’t be put back
once we know what it is it’s going to be that
whatever it is it is what it is
whatever it was, it will do what it does
a drone or clone or a brain in a phone
a cure for cancer or a cat in a hat,
the cosmic mathematical answer we’ve been searching for
or something that will ultimately make everyone snore
it could be something worthless or something worthmore
whatever it is it’s going to be that
like a way to lose weight by eating just fat
perhaps it’s a tire that never goes flat
or maybe it’ll be, a Black-Death ridden rat
whatever it is it’s going to be that
and once it’s let out, it can’t be returned
if there’s one thing at all, it’s this i have learned
we looked at each other through the pools of our eyes
we looked at each other and let-down the disguise
whatever we find we can’t unfind
whatever we see we can’t unsee
whatever we hear we can’t unhear
so we dropped our worries and we dropped our fear
and once we had chased them far far away
our brain-sails started to sail for the first time that day
we reached down inside the door in the floor
we reached down inside and we reached a little more
as we untied the tie that bound the unknown
our brain-tails got excited like we’d found a new bone
our brain-tails got excited and they started to wag
as we untied the tie
and let the cat out of the bag.

spider.hacksaw(2013)©

my, my, my
morph me my friend, ’tis all it said
morph me my delicious, my vicious, fiend
’tis blood is might obscure lucidity
within me, without me, all around it be

’tis all i need to nummer down
and crawl, creep and slide in two, into, to you
my selfish Hocus-pocus pox, a plague of daisies gay
this languid laughing cadaver of gall
encore, encore, on call

calling my name, carving it hollow
as a vacant banquet, oh my sweet never after
all this sweetly, sickly, salacious laughter
my filthy grimlicious clean-gun viscus
silver sliver, entering river red beds of me
reign in me, a strain in me, remain in me, the stain in me
striking me rich and poverty poor me my more
my idiom or

spitting at the seeming seems
splitting and slashing a dare between us
what it all means to loath-love
and press who-cares kisses
against, across, upon my fallen crest and fleshy-floor

smack, smack, smack, those gentle miniature fists
beneath my ribs, against my core, sweep me under within
this shell of skin, that keeps the cold, and holds the hold
and folds the fold again

thin violence, mercy-me misery-more
to hide the burn marked stars
as i ride the ghoul beams, and glide
to dusk my dizzying deeds
and dawn my blind drawn mind

wanted, weighted, fissure fusion
basking blissful bashful motion
morph me fiend, morph me friend
shall or shan’t we ever mend

our warping mourning, our molten mountain
our mouths agape and lashed half-mast

morph me fiend, my friend morphine
bring exonerated end

again, again, again

_______________________________
(my phriend morphiend)(spider hacksaw)(©2013)

“The only thing i know absolutely for certain is that I know absolutely nothing for certain.”
—spider hacksaw

“I believe in everything and nothing. I shall not be caged nor bound by words as chains nor words as prison bars. Words are an ever mutating and morphing design. Words are as costumes and clothes within which we dress ourselves, each other, and all Things. Then just as easily undress them the same. Words are temporary tags and shall never gain passage beyond the portal of this mortal shack of stars. I am born into a world of words, from which I shall be born out, into the wordless worldless unknown. I am everything and I am nothing.”
—spider hacksaw © 2014