remoticons 1

[from:    the Loss Lieder]

the worst are full of passion ate them in tents, itty
bitty nonsense yawn stabilize   worthless values?
valse use value, exchange in yr free marked-up
systemization branding flocculent & leaving
in ranch barred all howdy dust poured
into intro P:  reality show as 101,  digital con version, meaning
cross-platform bland-creation, oops, stepped between
the 3rd rail at who?  everyelse,   allows for social
media utilization, loud scream gifts you
that soldier’s  triangulated narrative Dis coursing thru the
vanes the whether, the don’t need a man to fish
in a bicycle rust ammo dump truck sleazing
that’s how everyone knows in the city
emracing the new domesticated violence,
monuments exist marking grand geometric lines
leading from twitters to contempt for twang
lug over to where ya spill yer guts
patrol on a dim wall,  mentionless to menschen or
measureless to mammoths at least, oh and while yer at it
art in public spaces reeks of Samonite locked elitism
or is that a satellite licked E Lite schism?  well,
i’m sure where you’re listening, the walls ring
almost as much
the snail’s dodering across the lay of the land
the whine of the country cricrossed by loopy & oblate
babble-lines Oh let’s just gavel that session forgotten
shifting gears into cog nightive daylighting—

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