http://www.michaelmerenda.com/audio/FROM_THE_ALBUM-In_the_Flicke.m3u

In the nineteen nineties,
Kurt Cobain and Tupac were big shirt,
rip-roppin’ homies,
and I could play piano
‘cause I still had all my fingers.
We wore pimp stripe pagers
and bellbottom boots,
and we feasted on mushrooms and eggs.
We didn’t know the taste of human flesh
back in the nineties,
or the smell of vomit and napalm.

Now it’s cold,
and I ( Read more... )

Hidden suburban screamjuice beneath the floorboards.
Smileyface demons
and hermetoid lurkers with ghastly minds
bark and snarl in the windows
while women with medicated eyes
and saggy tits
spoon-feed grains
into clean white children
with clean white faces.

Bulldozed dreamguides,
fences,
and lawns.

Time eats monsters,
monsters eat children,
( Read more... )

Shut up.

Everybody just shut the fuck up.

I am getting so sick of you idiots

and your fucking, fucking shit.

You make me want to barf and yell at you at the same time.

I have had it.

“Daah, I have such-and-such an opinion.”

“My name’s so-and-so and here’s my story:”

Shut up.

Take that garbage and go shove it up your ass.

Why don’ ( Read more... )

Instead of spending ( Read more... )

Grow an eyeball garden, love ( Read more... )

Birds are made of feathers and magic ( Read more... )

Whatchoo talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?

Whatchoo rappin’ ‘bout, Bones?

What the dilly yo, Dylan?

Where the weed at, holmes?

Who let the dogs out, Willis?

Who’s that whore in your arms?

Where’s the beef, my brother?

Who’s after me Lucky Charms?

Whatchoo talkin’ bout Willis?

You like it when I touch you there?

Who’s your daddy, Willis?

Que ( Read more... )

So now there are all these familiar thought patterns repeating themselves over and over again in what was already perfect, pure, unadulterated consciousness. Every morning there’s a story re-told about a separate being named Joey who wakes up, seeks pleasure, avoids pain, rejoices when praised, weeps when scorned, rejoices at the occasional ( Read more... )

I love you so much.

Instead of carrying you in her womb for nine months

and giving birth to you,

I wish that your mother had had an abortion.

There’s a big smile on my face

and confetti shooting out my ears

because I love you so much.

Bats come from the center of the earth.

I want to marry you and take you back to my house

and dress ( Read more... )