| T O P I C R E V I E W |
| KimStanleyRobinson |
Posted - 07/12/2004 : 13:56:12
in the zoo, our protagonist eats
farts, sweats and dreams crack
savoring each white morsel
a modern man's turkish delight.
eying the fat wallets
in the rear pockets of fat asses
who lead fat crying children
to see the seals
artichoke head, angry dreads
lift like antennae at the passage of nose candy
the sex mad apes mount each other
he sniffs at the whiteness of a polar bear
angry crying children in the reptile house
a wide eyed norman rockwell babe
watches a lower ranking male chimp get no pussy
whipped, he sulks on the tire swing
surfer kids on forced time with absent parents
ask the artichoke man
"dude, you got any weeeed?"
get no response
his sensors are open to only one transaction
his internal radio set to one white frequency
ding-a-ling,
bell on a zebraskin trolley
and the good humor man on a golf cart
comes bearing fish for the bear in ice
and fruit for the apes
and snow for artichoke head
gun lovers empty knowing
of the criminality of our exhibit
learn nothing, dream of bearskin rugs
monkey paw paperweights
and willing pack bearers in tropical climes
see themselves in khaki, in a howdah
as the elephants brood against a plasterboard background
and artichoke head avails himself of the payphone
mext to the machine which makes waxen animals
I call a spade a spade
says the man in the hat that says
god guts and glory made america great
artichoke practices his three card monty
on a bench shaped like a plastic smiling tiger
clubs, aces whirl around the queen
now you see it, now you don't
low-ball walks like a cat
a forty in a wrinkled paper bag
sings along to headphones
the rockwell babe feeds ducks bread
sinking in the water
a midget with a parasol walks by
god guts and glory
is looking for his useless surfer children,
made soft by their mother
he thinks of fever
quartantine in the war
your isolated brain making patterns on bedsheets
this fucking heat
when the kids are gone, glory goes home alone to
turn pages of hemingway and rimbaud and guns and ammo
quinine water for you
four parts gin, one tonic
two blocks up artichoke and lowball
cook up an eight ball
across an airshaft words are exchanged
devils and flies sting glory in his sleep
as he dreams of africa
lowball and artichoke sell poison to have
a dream of suburban life, luxury cars
kill babies, in amniotic sea sleeping and
artichokes white tide invades them
save mumia, glory's kids are spraypainting on his tenement
while they wait for their mother to take them back
her too white nose even whiter after a trip to see the golfcart driver over a glass of scotch
glory is alone, without howdahs or elephant guns
the city closes round him like the forest
babel of foreign voices
women nurse those fierce invalids home from hot climates
he thinks walking into the chop suey palace
eat chinese ,be polite
he never notices lowball pull his gun until it is too late
-----------------------------------------------
May the seed of your loin be fruitful in the belly of your woman. |
| 4 L A T E S T R E P L I E S (Newest First) |
| ShakeyShake |
Posted - 09/07/2004 : 14:31:19
This one isn't just low,it's disturbing.
http://web.archive.org/web/20020524235412/http://www.lowbrow.com/
He knew he had to stop when he bought the Bissell. Cleaning the blood stains out of the upholstery in his car simply got too tiring by hand. The shop vac had always done a fantastic job of removing the hair and tissue, but the blood just seemed to stay no matter what he did.
He had started around five years ago. Dave was so distraught over Reagan leaving office, that he began to start cruising for whores who looked like Nancy. There was just something about that skinny, distant look that gave him a big stiffy. He reveled in having "Nancy" stuff her thumb up his ass at the point of orgasm, all the while intoning, "Just say no! Just say no!"
After a while, the novelty wore off and Dave was left with only a burning anger towards the life that fate cast him. Much of this had to do with the fact that his favorite Nancy had decided to stop seeing him. He resolved to rectify this situation permanently.
He hatched his plan one night while idly flicking through an old Hustler. There was a photo spread titled Mars Wants Pussy, and at that instant, while stroking his turgid member, it came to him in a blinding flash and a sticky substance: he would kidnap his favorite Nancy, and keep her until he expunged the demons in his head.
He had it all planned out; the hotel room was paid for, the caviar was in the fridge, copies of The National Review were scattered about the night stand. It had taken him several minutes to decide in the store whether he wanted the standard choke chain or the spiked collar that attached to the nipples. He ended up with the choke chain; little did he know that decision would alter his love of life forever.
Dave had been at the hotel since six, and "Nancy" wasn't due until ten. He kept himself amused in his waiting by noting the interesting behavior of the roaches in the room. There was something darkly erotic about how they scuttled about the floor looking for human dregs to feed upon. Curious, he spread some caviar on the carpet, and stepped back to examine the ensuing melee. The smell reminded him of a lukewarm, gummy pussy, and the roaches climbing all over each other to get a lick of the sticky substance began to weave its rhythm into his brain.
As he undressed, he began to wonder what it would feel like to have thousands of tiny probisci snuffling about his body, probing into crevices too small for human touch. Slowly moving back towards the refrigerator, so as not to startle away the hungry insects, he gripped the handle of the door, and for the briefest of instants, contemplated the ramifications of what he was about to do. Basic instincts of desire blotted out any rational thought, and he jerked the door open and lunged for the caviar.
Dave could hardly unscrew the top as the thoughts of what might transpire overcame his reality. Plunging his fingers into the cool, viscous egg gel caused his whole body to shudder, as if someone had prodded him in the solar plexus with a sharp metal poker. He began cautiously; he didn't want to ruin his oncoming orgasm by going too far too fast. Seating himself on the floor near the earlier caviar smear, which oddly looked like some sort of shit trail, he smeared the gooey substance over his toes and feet. Almost immediately, one of the larger cockroaches scampered over and began to investigate the spaces between his toes.
Once the trail was blazed, the cockroaches made a line towards his feet. Shivering from the coolness of the room on his naked body and the exquisite feeling of bugs between his toes, Dave leaned back and reached towards the jar he had set down earlier. Taking a large scoop, he smeared a trail up his leg towards his groin. The roaches by this time were coming out of the woodwork, enticed by the smell of fish egg. They began to crawl up and down his legs, causing Dave's hairs to stand on end.
His penis had begun to grow at an alarming rate. The feeling of hundreds of tiny legs walking up and down his legs was absolutely amazing. He thought he was going to ejaculate from the feeling, but a thought of how to prolong and enhance his coming pleasure helped pull him back from the brink.
Sliding his hand over and grasping the jar, he took another large clump from the jar into his fingers. He rolled it about a bit to warm it up. The feeling of the small balls squishing under his fingertips excited him further. Slowly, he skimmed the surface of his skin with the now melting egg fluid on his fingertips towards his anus.
Shoving the first few fish embryos into this sphincter, Dave almost climaxed. As he worked his finger around in his rectum for a few pleasurable seconds, he could feel the roaches working their magic up his legs towards his magic button.
Inexorably, the large roaches began to approach Dave's bunghole, and as they approached his perineum, his member began to throb. He caught himself by squeezing his prick and ejaculating into his bladder. Stretching out again for the jar of fish feti, and taking a handfull, he wiped a large quantity on his throbbing ManTool (TM someone else) and waited for the inevitable.
Dave didn't have to wait long, and he got lucky. One of the larger roaches approached his ass, and one of the smaller ones crawled up his dick. Now Dave had once had a simultaneous orgasm with a woman, but when that large cockroach penetrated his butt, and the small one burrowed into his urethra, Dave blacked out with an orgasm so powerful, he didn't come around until he heard the knocking at the door.
There were roaches in his ass, roaches in his dick, semen on his belley and he didn't know what to do. It was as if there was some sort of wild beast in his body, controlling him. The knocking at the door became more insistant. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, he noticed the time, 10:12.
Groggily lurching to his feet, crunching some errant cockroaches into a sticky paste, Dave called out to the door, "Who the fuck is it?!"
"Nancy." Was the reply.
Chapter 2
Moving towards the door, Dave clawed at the cockroaches that were covering his body. One particular roach had latched onto his nipple and drawn blood. As he brushed against it, he felt the familiar sticky wetness that only blood imparts. As his fingers squeezed and tugged against the roach, he felt the antennae brushing against his fingers, then his nipples, over and over again very quickly.
They felt like some alien tentacles trying to invade the pores in his body. Dave suddenly felt a revulsion that brought the bile from his bowels to his lips. He tensed his whole body, waiting for the familiar eruption that he imagined felt like a slugs guts as they were being popped out of its skin as a bicycle tire rolls over its body. Then abruptly, as if it suddenly realized the fingers about it were going to snuff out its small existence, the roach went completely limp and let go of Dave's body.
This caused the pressure in Dave to abate, but it left him changed; it was as if the slug inside of him had been distended and re-arranged, but not ejaculated onto the asphalt.
- choad@choad.com
"I joined the Cult of this guy / 'cause they took my other picture away |
| fudd |
Posted - 07/12/2004 : 14:51:18
I found this without attribution a long time ago.
I gaze at the brilliant full moon. The same one, I think to myself, at which Socrates, Aristotle, and Plato gazed. Suddenly, I imagine they appear beside me. I tell Socrates about the national debate over one's right to die and wonder at the constancy of the human condition. I tell Plato that I live in the country that has come the closest to Utopia, and I show him a copy of the Constitution. I tell Aristotle that we have found many more than four basic elements and I show him a periodic table. I get a box of kitchen matches and strike one. They gasp with wonder. We spend the rest of the night lighting farts. |
| martha_promise |
Posted - 07/12/2004 : 14:28:40
Yeah, that was really good. Lowbrow's gonna get me fired. That's pretty lowbrow in and of itself.
~~it's a beautiful thing"~~ |
| El Barto |
Posted - 07/12/2004 : 14:16:23
That's pretty fucking great, I really like some of those lines...I love lowbrow.
I guess I just wasn't made for these times. |
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