Try having no head.

dragons ripping boing going grabby grabby in the western hemisphere
rock and roll nightmare
believe in the misunderstood banker or novelist or better astronaut
greedy sticky fingers finding money on coffee tables of unsuspecting spectators
bewildered herd electing figures make fecal decisions in the bathroom
rune card reading 777 on the mexicali floor for forgiving nevermind
mailing the promise of forty acres and a mule to ride into urban wastelands and ghettos in on but no palm branches frame the path
imprisoned in the city
trapped in the blight or might makes right
police and cars whistling past making yr day a little less happy or convenient
perculiar

I realize that I haven't updated this page in a while. We're in Rochester. I have decided that I am a mystic. Here is a website http://www.digiserve.com/mystic/index.html

We're in a rest area in North Dakota where they have free internet. Wierd eh. Anyway, I'm feeling a little homesick and lonely. Here is an angry poem.

*Growl*

shhh, I am a secret
I am angry but don't let them on
swallowed too many capsules that come from horse hooves to be vegan
balance and disorder chill together on the couch in my mind's waiting room
and heavy metal falls from the sky
going *tink*tink*tink* on the marble floor
represent my rotting teeth
stuck in succession with the devil and the angels
happy to make peace
but proud to disturb it
I don't know about you but there are a lot of things in this world that piss me off
and that i can't change
and that pisses me off more
like vote for donkey to banish the monster
how was the RNC? and how are those petitions going?
A petition never blew up a building
but the anarchists did
they blew up parliament in NAZI Germany
and hitler killed them
but these days death is much quieter

Wooo! we are in michigan going insane from uppers and sleep deprivation. wooo!

I am changing my pseudonym to Dorian Gray after the Oscar Wilde book because the music is different (more experimental and less emo) and the subject matter is somewhat different. The answer to Hastheboyfallen? is "yes, he has." Being homeless is wonderful so far. At this point I would recommend it to anyone looking for some liberation. Here's a happy poem:

*This Chair is a Nihilist*

The holes in my brain I don't mind
As long as i can feel it in my face
And my arms
Float like they were wings
Funny little things
They call them fingers but I've never seen them fing
It isn't a small world
Actually it's very big
And despite the six degrees there's still a lot to see
And the dope doesn't decieve me like parents and politicians do
I like my life and I love you
I care not if tomorrow I die
Because I wouldn't die without having lived life
Like so many that are still alive
I may go gentle into the night
But I still love my life
And that may be the most insane thing of all
Sometimes I feel like I am the only happy person in the world

I am going to be on the road like Kerouac very very soon with my love Maggie.  You can reach us at this e-mooil address: crustyrobot@emailaccount.com
"Love will carry us through
The good and bad days
Read the angels when they breathe
Get lost in the drive
You are the only drug I need
Goodbye this life goodbye"
I love you all Brockport/Rochester people, especially the family dan, julie, jeremey, carl, pat.  I will miss you.  Like julie wrote, our lives our a cookie sheet that's all cooked together, where do we separate them.  I didn't paraphrase that as nearly as eloquently as she wrote it, but it was a great poem that brought tears to my eyes.  Good luck everyone.  I will be thinking about you.

My name is Mitch and these are my thoughts...

$20 bills and empty liquor bottles lay calmly on the coffe table next to cigarette butts and glass pipes. A syringe is surely falling to pierce the toe of a guru. Happy faces reveal the bags under the eyes of ghosts. A smile is a curse and I know you know what it is. And it seems like yr always backwards in the mirror. And it seems like yr always backwards. But does a heart pump blood if the aortic chambers are on opposite sides? And do we really know the white devil yet? Beneath the coffee stains and chicken bones the coffin of black nationalism is rolling around. Can we recover? Or are we a doomed race? I never knew killing whitey would be so painful. I wrote a poem last night about friends and how I have none. That's a larf. A continuation of the story of the DC trip: Went through Conesus Lake and Livonia rocking old timey music. Reminded me of Christina and that party. There is an awkward silence in the car. It and the wind and maybe the MAOI's make my ears ring. Stopped at a truck stop near Bath. Rednecks started asking us what our T-shirts say. *****'s had an upside down Amerikan flag and "Fuck right off" on his. The protest was fun. We burned some flags. We had to go party in the car afterwards because our host didn't want drugs or alcohol in the house. I had a great time in the DC slums. We got some herb from a crackhead and hung out in a revolutionary resturaunt and had conversations with the black nationalists who own it. One of them said, "If you see a rich person, shoot them." I wondered if I should shoot all the condo dweller in the neighborhood in which we were staying. The pro-choice march on the last day was kind of boring. We got lost looking for the unpermitted radical-bloc march. We eventually found it by following the bike-pigs. Somehow we got separated from the radical-bloc and had to hang with the more "mature" (older) liberal crowd at the Planned Parenthood rally. It was very boring. We ended up leaving early. I got some hugs from old friends I haven't seen in a while. On the subway I talked to this girl sitting next to me about politics. I think she was flirting with me. She touched me at one point. I like outkast. He doesn't.

*Sisters of Socialization*

Look at me, I'm not that bad
I got thrown in with the wrong crowd
I am a pirate and outlaw
Druggie shoplifting anarchist
And I am a criminal, but not a revolutionary
You drink to me
I'll toke twice for you
Chained by the oppression of distant geography
So much depends on location
And the space-time continum
So take these, my drinks and my tokes, to escape time-space
Because we all want something different
But none of us know how to get it
So some of us break windows, some of us vote, some of us go to marches and some of us retreat into the mental embrace of drugs
Recently I've found myself in the latter category
But when the chemical haze wears off capitalism and my lonliness still exists
And although I'm often distracted from it by bright shining moments
My misery is always there
And all I have to show is a half-smoked cigarette, a blunt roach and $1.53 until next week
No hickies or used condoms
And I didn't save the world
And the revolution didn't come
Sometimes I think it never will

*The Low Life*

I was a lost soul swimming in a vast aquarium of existence
The blood and the veins
Fill the holes
To rid me of the pain of living
Neither alive nor dead
Just comfortably numb
To dull the pain of living
And the realization that I am not a revolutionary
Only a failed visionary
One of the last of the dreamers
A generations crippled by junkieism and neurosis
The last personal adventure
Clip and paste
The words on the page aren't even my own
How's this for originality
One thousand skulls picking god's nose
It's easy to paint a picture with black
When everything's a copy of a copy of a copy
Sweat that shite out of yr system
Broken bones
It's just my fucking jones
Nothing's going to bring me back
Tomorrow I pack my bags for the moon
This earth has only disappointed me
Wars, class, power, the meaninglessness of change
The meaninglessness of protest
The meaninglessness of originality
The shattered dream of a revolution
And the retreat back into the deepest corners of the mind
Searching the soul for a fraction of the spark that once fueled my own personal Jihad
Everything seems to me coming full circle
And the pressure on my temples is symbolic of the shackles on my liberty
Will I one day snap?
Will weapons be involved?
Am I just confused?
I am lonely
Just let me fuck you, anyone will do
I am tired
Let me rest
It's been a long journey
And there's still so far to go


"On April 25th, Anarchists not only failed feminism, but anarchism itself. Instead of an anarchist presence which aligned itself with feminism and directly supported the expression of feminist anger, we showed ourselves as opportunists and holier than thou radicals with a lack of respect for the feminist majority and the important work they do. Our actions were more antagonistic to the goals of the day and our feminist allies rather than supportive." <- This was me, I am an antagonist, not a protagonist.

i think i've started to realize that i've been feeling sorry for myself way too much. as much as i think i'm oppressed in this country, there are people who have it a hell of a lot worse than me. i mean, yes, it's very fucked up that we have a society where i have to work 25 hours a week just to make rent and i still don't have enough money for food, health insurance or a car. oh yeah, i was down today pretty hard because the reality of losing my car just hit. the mobility and freedom that it once gave me (it was in fact my ticket to liberation when i was 17) is gone all of the sudden. although i'm much freer now that i've been dispossessed by the car, i can't help feeling oppressed by the fact that i can't just drive wherever the hell i want. of course, walking is a hell of a lot better for individual health and the environment, but walking is also limited to how far one can go before getting exhausted. i was walking on the grass today. they tell you to walk on the sidewalk, but the grass is made for walking on. it's so much more comfortable and natural than pavement. well, i guess the grass around here isn't all that natural. Ok, so I guess I lost track there. Anyway... what was I saying. Nothing I suppose.

I'm writing from someone's house in VA, about half an hour from DC. It is a really nice condo in a really fancy neighborhood. This is the first time in a while that I haven't stayed at a place with garbage on the floor. I wrote something in the car today... "Went through Conesus Lake and Livonia rocking old timey music. Reminded me of Christina and that party. There is an awkward silence in the car. It and the wind and maybe the MAOI's make my ears ring. stopped at a truck stop near Bath. Rednecks started asking us what our t-shirts say. One of my comrades had an upside down Amerikan flag and "Fuck Right Off" on his." I hope this weekend continues to be interesting. I don't think the revolution is coming, but I'm sure some people do. globalize this

I feel really stagnant. I've become a bit anti-social lately. And I've been reading William Burroughs, which makes me think about junkyism a lot. I've been writing a lot of songs and poems. I suppose that's a good thing. The gospel of Strauss. Vulture's Kiss. I ran into one of my Professors today. He asked me if I was still writing. I told him that I was... a lot. I have to or else I'll die. I don't think they understand Straussism. No one likes a bong hoarder, and no one likes a Nitrous Whore. What are you doing on 4:20 on 4/20? Then on 4/23-25? Ahhh fuck. Well this weekend Defiance, Ohio is playing in Buffalo.friday april 9th


evil robot us`. defiance ohio. erik peterson. hissy fit. the midwest breaking.


buffalo- 29 custer. 5pm $5
I wanted to say a million things, but I can't think of them. Ephedrine is a listed chemical under the Chemical Diversion
and Trafficking Act of 1988 (CDTA) (Pub. L. 100-690). Under
provisions of the CDTA (21 U.S.C. 802(34)(c)), thresholds were
originally assigned to each listed chemical. The CDTA imposes
reporting and recordkeeping requirements for regulated transactions
which meet or exceed these threshold amounts of a listed chemical.
I don't go to school here anymore. This place is bad vibrations I think. There is nothing but small minded young-republicans, meat-heads, box-heads. Fuckers basically. I've got to get home before all the beers are drunk. Oh..., if yr interested... I am starting a label of sorts, non-profit. Mostly tapes, but maybe some CD's or even vinyl if possible (probably not). It's called Inner Space Recordings and here's the catalogue as it sits:
Hastheboyfallen - A Whole Bunch of Songs About Love, Revolution and Grass
Buddah's Tits - Anthology Vol. I
Pretnesious Art Snobs - POMO
Has Anyone Killed Sigmon Freud Yet - S/T
Metro-Rochester Art-Punk Comp. featuring Hastheboyfallen, Forgotten Figures Falling Together Between Two Twigs, That Kid and the Other Guy, Pretensious Art Snobs, Buddah's Tits and Has Anyone Killed Sigmon Freud Yet

All of these are available on request. I have to make the tapes before I can give them to you so let me know if you want one. I guess you can't e-mail me since I don't have an e-mail so let me know in person.

Well, I guess my e-mail is down. I haven't checked it in a while, but I don't think they cancelled my service. I think the server is just down or something. Whatever. Today I had a terribly disconcerting dream. It basically ended with me sleeping in the woods in the middle of winter and calling a land-lord a "fucking bitch." I went to sleep early last night. It was about 11:30 when I passed-out. I woke up at two with that awkward nightmare feeling. I like nighmares because the adrenaline secretion makes it somewhat uncomfortable but also somewhat euphoric. I haven't had a nightmare in a long time. My dreams have been real vivid lately. And they come almost every night now. I haven't dreamed like this since I was a little kid. Good, but it means something's bothering me. Anyway, this morning I wrote the following poems:

*Never Sleep*

I was in a dream drinking 40 oz and a smoking a spliff
When the shit hit the fan and we suddenly had no home
Somehow the nightmare was so real
Like nothing's the same when you don't feel safe
Somehow the world was changed
And it made me use parts of my brain I haven't used in a while
After all these years god hasn't returned any of my calls
I didn't leave you god
You left me
And really how safe can anything be
When yr living life at 90 mph
I guess it's just another worthless workless Wednesday
And tomorrow there's work to do
Something about the way the chords melt into her voice reminds me of someone I once knew
She was beautiful and brilliant
Aloof as me
But hermits never fall in love
And I will never fall in love again
This house's spector visits me
She is friendly and offers me a cup of chamomile to sedate my mental wounds
So I try to close my eyes and see the things the spector is trying to show me
And as much as I'd like to embrace the dream
I have to stay in my own reality
They can't understand the complexities of the steel drum sound
And its echos through this haunted house
All this sexless, loveless impotence only reminds me
Touching my own penis is never quite the same
So maybe I'm confused about what I want
Maybe I do lack direction
But they've never understood me
And they never will
Because I didn't leave god
You left me
And now I'm losing all the phone numbers
The spice of life never tasted quite so bitter
Today was merely a movement in the opium opus
And the nightmare merely a cadence
I love the cat but does he still love me?

*Meridian and the Items to Discuss*

Look at the lonely loser
Cigarettes and coffee won't scare off the demons forever
And television only makes them worse
Where is my Latin Princess
Where is my heart of gold and my land flowing with milk and honey
Can anyone be entitled to anything
Ah the intricacies of sexual frusteration
And mo(u)rning necessary losses
I passed out ahead of schedule today
(I don't sleep anymore, I just pass out)
And now I'm at a loss as to what to do with myself
I want passion when all I have is stagnance
I want sex when all I have is drugs
I want faith when all I have is the critical eye
But haha, the joke's on you
You'll never have me
And goddammit, I am oh so good
Animals sleep but I do not
Is the moon full
I can't see
Yesterday was so bright
The way the sun reflected off the snow
It makes a boy proud to be alive
Because I will never be a man
This is my Never-neverland
So let's never mention it again

*The Sonambulist*

My man walks in his sleep when he's passed-out drunk and pisses on stuff
But we love him and wouldn't trade him for the world
He's never nervous when drunk
And often embarassed when sober
But we love him and hope he'll never be too embarassed to stay
Pass-out on our couch after confusing nights at the bar
Just keep him away from glass
He might bleed
And maybe he drinks a little much
But don't we all in our own little ways
Leave my man alone
If it's wounded let it bleed
And aren't we all bloody and invalids
Infirmed up north and down south
The poles of sense and senselessness
So drink yr beers
Smoke yr bowls
Have yr fun
Because in the end
You'll be done

*La Jota de Mota*

Allow me to savor this puff
And then let the world know I'm here
My clothes smell like ganj
And my breath smells like beer

Allow me to paint with THC
The colors of the mind
Different shades for moods that change with the seasons
What worldly marvels we can find

Allow me to ask the guru these question
Scribbled on a napkin in haste
Do they even have answers
Or was this whole train of thought a waste

Allow me to smoke one more jay
And then we'll see true color
Is it Jah of the Great Spirit
Or is it a lover

I have a feeling today is going to be a productive day

Hi, it's been a long time since I've posted anything on this board, but here I go. Here's a poem:

*salvia song*

Sage smoke instantly fills yr head with divinity
There is not one god but many
And we're learning that everyday
Because nothing's the same when you smoke the divine sage
Welcome to the carnival of the mind
Now you know the way to the cerebral coney island
And you can feel the fever sweating hot and cold at the same time
And you want to take a shower but the bunnies won't let you
And as the laughter surfaces you realize
There is not one god but many
Because nothing's the same when you smoke the divine sage.