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This delightful poem was sent to me by the incomparable Linda Simpson, and I post it here with her permission...

Farewell, my Pope

By Linda Simpson

No hope
For the Pope
A downward slope
At the end of his rope
Silent is the stethoscope
Oh, the scope, the scope!
How will we cope?
The faithful will mope
And mope and mope
Me, I'll skip rope
Read my horoscope
Watch my soap
Eat some cantaloupe
And daydream of the day I elope
But I won't mope for the Pope
Nope, nope, nope
I'm gay and I'm proud
And he was a dope
-Babystep From Madness-

a baby step was made into the canyon
followed by more, reluctantly facing
an unknown without the guideing hand
terrible thots flooded the eye sockets
like an acid flashback come to life
illusions so brutal, one just had to believe
carried away by a monster so crafty
nobody noticed the missing person
screaming behind the glass wall
pounding their fists black & blue
truth escaped the day almost everyday
until it was clutching the throat
like a murderer dying to kill something new
like the horn on the head getting
older by the minute
created by a flight of stairs
marble and as unforgiving as the hosts
that fucked the blindwoman senseless
terrible thots flooded the eye sockets
like an acid flashback come to life
reliveing to tell the tales that were
not meant for small ears and open hearts
a womb so heavy the tears were leaking out
for all the world to see
beauty never looked so hideous, except
the time gold leaf was painted over
a cadaver waiting for the execution
that will never happen because all of
it was raptured inside of her head.

Copyright Velocity Chyaldd (2005)
New piece...I'll be reading it at Fresh Fruit Festival July 13th at Collective Unconscious at part of their Two Spirit Program. Inspired by this past week.


Dance ˜round Brothers and Sisters
Focus on the Tree
Give voices to songs our prayers of good
Focus on the Me

A rattle, perhaps, a bone whistle or feather
Awakens what's within
Fall into myself, collapse and let go

Through the night I am carried
By two spirit brother
To the Light I feel Light
Face down upon Mother

A rattle within, a bone whistle or feather
"Eat, Dear One," she hums
"Eat through Me"

Eyes wide shut I see fire in me
Open they see ancestors run across plains
Ancestors run as they scream, run as they die
Horses slaughtered they run
Screams that are warnings to those left behind
Screams contain messages for me and for mine

"Two Spirits" they scream
"Do not trust them" they whoop
"They will kill your horses, too - do not accept their laws
You cannot ride upon that which they take away"

"Accept no gifts except what you give yourself
They will kill you because you are different from them
They will kill you because you are different from them
Laws are mere paper, you must be your own shield
There is nowhere outside for anyone to hide
They will kill you because you are different from them

Take care of You, Two Spirits
Take care of You
Rest well
Take care of You
They will kill you because you are different from them
Stop the drugs and the disease and the drunken fallacies
Do not give them the butt end of the gun
While you look down the barrel"

Eyes wide open to hear what I've seen
I blow upon the dirt as they run and they scream
Be ready
WAKE UP!!!!!
You are different
They will kill you because you are different from them

That very night that was five ago from this
Two faces appear from two other sides
One is Sylvester, dearly carried over
One is Aviance on a downtown street
Screaming her warnings as she lay broken and beat

Her screams are warnings to me and to mine
"Be ready," she cries
"They will kill you because you are different from them"
wrote this tonite...

-neon bomb-

and the light flickered there
for years
burning a hole
inside of the hole

hanging from a thread
called "reality"
emotions unchecked
in the rich soil
of the soiled

15 minutes of shame
buried deep within
the pillows and wood
the walls would talk
if they could

nebulous confusion
the self-induced haze
escaping intrusion
another dark phase
when you trust the beast
enough to leave your home
talk to a stranger
and touch again...

the flickering light

when it's way too late
to stop the bomb
stop the bomb
exploding neon bright
as violent as the night

it was planted.

copyright Velocity Chyaldd 2006
Last edited by Vulgaras
Hot Knife Humiltiation

Hot knife melting my skin
slideing off the bone
sizzling back again
the spirit is unknown
tinderbox heart of gold
done broke another toy
ransacked moodswings of
another damaged boy

turn that knife when U love me
if U really really mean it
go ahead n EAT my shame
at least then I'll FEEL it
turn that knife when U love me
if U really really mean it
go ahead n EAT my shame
at least then I'll FEEL it

God is missing.....NOW
in the blink of an Eye
hot knife opens my gutter
cuts the bullshit supply
killing all the clutter
humiliation overdrive

turn that knife when U love me
if U really really mean it
go ahead n EAT my shame
at least then I'll FEEL it
turn that knife when U love me
if U really really mean it
go ahead n EAT my shame
at least then I'll FEEL it

Hot knife melting my skin
slideing off the bone
sizzling back again
the spirit is unknown
tinderbox heart of gold
done broke another toy
ransacked moodswings of
another damaged boy

humiliation overdrive
in my rearview mirror

copyright Velocity Chyaldd (ascap) 2006
Sent on a loop by a recent publication:
The Downtown Book
The New York Scene 1974-1984
Published by Princeton University Press
in collaboration with Grey Art Gallery in
conjunction with the art show of the same name not so lately exhibited at the Grey Art Gallery.

Empress Chi Chi Valenti has a totally whack writting about the pure nature of 'downtown' attire that was an exterior manifestation of undomesticated soul. "No one called it downtown, it was just our universe." -Or something like that. There is a scathingly gorgeous face-obscuring photo by the equally gorge ex-pat Michael James O'Brien of the Empress.

But then I have to guffaw because on page 150 in the section of the book about 'downtown' writting there is a citation of a poem that appeared in the American Book Award-winning, groundbreaking anthology published by Simon and Schuster, 'Aloud, Voices from the Nuyorican Poets Cafe' (check out the back cover of THAT book at any Barnes and Noble the next time you float past the poetry section for a nice group photo including the fab Bobby Miller, main engine behind J-60's Verbal Abuse series). The citation in The Downtown Book quotes, "that's what happens / when language has a landord." And attributes it to "Pete Skiff". LOL

I luv obscurity.


Images (1)
  • The_downtown_book_100
Last edited by seven
From Emanuel Xavier:


for Willi Ninja

Like a coy diva you haunt discreetly
awakening my thoughts with subtle whispers
prompting me to fulfill the promise
as we held hands from a certain end
the magic already withdrawn from your eyes
forced to walk a destiny arriving too early for the ball

The liveliest memory of us is parked just outside the piers
under the bright lights of a clear night
Praying to the waters of Yemaya y Ochun

There was no need to ask that I write this poem
Without words or tears it is lifeless
This is only a shadow of legendary
because it comes from a withered heart
These limbs are already fractured
unable to unlock limitations and click inspiration

Your House is waiting
Your children
stretched across a cold floor
in every pose you left behind
staring at a ceiling without stars
while your mother holds their sorrow

They will dance only to the echoes of your soul
as you dare to claim the clouds under your heels
Myself, I will rest upon the ashes of your dreams
until the sky falls

© 2006 by Emanuel Xavier for Pier Queen Productions.
Absent Friends:

i never should have gotten
involved with her

i should have never gone there
met them
hung out with them
wnet to club with them
hung out in their homes
drank with them at bars
read poetry to them
with them
at them
sang with them
cried with them
hated on people with them
danced with them
talked shit with them
watched films with them
sided with them and defended them
watched them kiss
watch them fuck
watched porn with them
saw plays with them
went shopping with them

i should have never given them
the time of day


David don't sew up your lips!
Please don't you dare shut your mouth
We need you now more than ever
The world has all but forgotten about you
Some of us still react to the world
Though art and AIDS are both a global pandemic
And your words and your vision
Are sorely missed, and I won't
Let your vision and voice be silenced
Or die like an obnoxious fly!


iPod in hand, music endless
going round, revolving like discs in a jukebox
technology is fun, if it works properly
music non-stop, and emails sent
computer world in motion
message board in cyberspace
fascism in inner space and outer space
censorship on the arts in an artist's space
censorship on art in high places
and fascist states

funky cold medina, I say

jazz and techno, rock 'n' roll
house rhythms and tribal drums
industrial kling-kling on sampled steal pipes
punk-like snarls, and operatic soundscapes
mixed drinks and cabaret performers with a Germanic stance
striking a pose and dancing the tango
the songs of caberats in Paris in the 60s
and of Weimar Berlin
and American standards
and musical theatre pieces
a sight for wide eyes
a sound for open ears
a sensation to speak or write about
as it fuses into the eardrum

this is my idea of heaven

this is heaven even in our own personal hells

I'm going mad, I'm insane
I'm going down
I hear the sound of the drum
the empty silence drenched with the sound
of loneliness and despair
I enjoy the silence
I suffer in silence
and inside, I'm sighing
crying, and dying
and I need a drink or something to eat

I wander around aimlessly
and I see no one
I miss my cash less and less
and yet I need it more and more
and "all the weights that keeps me down
seem heavier than before"

I want to dance and move my feet to the beat
but I fell boung
chained to a life of solitude

I'm screaming inside
shouting for freedom
begging and crying out for serenity
crying aloud for someone to hear
but they hear nothing
but they hear nothing
but my silence.


electronic joy
electronic vibration
electric sex
switch me on
turn me up
goldfrapp kraftwerk
sweet joy
sweet lust
fuzz box
love box
electric pussy
twirling dildo
buzzing plastic
spastic spasm
buzzing butt play
buzzing butt plug
young and dumb
full of cum
young one
peep show
ab fab
love me
spank me
funk me
fuck me
suck me
sweet charity
sweet surrender
constant craving
sweet ejaculate
sweet ejactualtion
black celebration
ultra violator
sweet release
little death
petit mort
satisfaction guaranteed
after math
after glow
after show
after hours
good fuck
paid in full


Quick! Change the music
to something happy
something loud and proud and funky!

No more dirges of fascistic sorrow
No moretales of war and conservative woe
No more lies told to us by family friends, politicians and strangers

I'd like...a thumpin' good beat
some soulful diva
some kick-ass DJ
some noise to drown out the volume of sound
comin' outta the TV set
some robot noise
some industrial strength beats
some old school Donna Summer or Gloria Gaynor
some synthpop like Soft Cell or Bronski Beat
some New Order and some Pet Shop Boys
some tribal trancy dancy freedom-inducing
techy jazzy funky joyous joyful and aggressive low-key stompin'-hard beat

While elephants roam the earth
Our noise drowns out their
outdated noise, their annoying, loud voices
trumpeting cries of
"We will prevail"
and "make no mistake"
and "Send more troops"
and "Bomb them" and "I'm a war president"
and "Mistakes were made"

We the tribe of people
that join here
where the music does not suck
to overcome and survive
This is the music of our people
the music of the HUMAN RACE
and the words are saying
like the original words to "Le Frak" by Chic


(C"MON you know the words, SING ALONG!)

Thank you!

IN HELL (an improvisation):

I can't understand why I'm watching Grease
when I really want to go out and do shit
But once again Mother Nature is on the rag
What a bitch she's become
quite like my mother in the old days
acting cold and blowing a fierce wind
farting her fierce frigid sting in my face
red and chapped and raw and tired
I just can't bring myself
to brave the cold night
But if I went out I feel so right
I feel good and feel so fine
But I have no cash since it was
stolen by some jerk-off
on the third of the month
May the Lord Satan or Buddha or Jesus
smite those bastards who stole my cash
and make me rich so I can move to New York
and make better and more fabulous
and more freaky and more fine
than I am now.

(for the folks the the Motherboards)

27 years old, I live
in Syracuse NY
queer, bi, on SSD
and SSI, dysthymic,
(according to my shrink)
a poet, an art junkie,
a theatre fan,
I've been banned
by PC lesbian hosts of
closed-minded poetry reading
and haunted open mics
during the years of the Iraq war,
been called a racist,
and a faggot,
born March 19 1979
highly intelligent
highly inquistive
raised in affluence
mired in the quicksand
of poverty,
currently unemployed,
fortified by music,
film, poetry,
and pornography,
I haunt the library,
love to go to bookstores
and record stores
and against my better
judgement, I go to the mall
a liberal, a socalist,
a useless democrat
and have read Marx thank you
blunt, honest
urban, urbane
witty, clever
sometimes not modest
I have a lust for life
that just won't die
I love and hate
both of my parents
father's a funeral director
mother's a teacher
I have two sisters
(one short of a Checkov play)
was angry enough
to post a response
to the beating of Kevin Aviance
and found the Mothersboards
(am I accepted into the sisterhood?)
I am gender-free
polymorhpous perverse
free if only in my own mind
I am trying to love life
and I am here to stay
until I die
and will be always
here on earth
to let you have it!

Andrea Biscotti

jesus is gonna come back
one day
and say
and settle the score once and for all
and tell the truth
about what he thought
and did
and the last temptations
and passions
will be justified
and the fundamentalists
and the "born-agains"
and the roman catholics
will see him
for who he really is:
and very pissed of
at what certain people
are saying that he said
and misquoting him
and using his words to
start wars and
commit gross acts
of indecency
and bigotry
in his name
and he only said a lot
of good things
but he told us to
love one another
and love God
so no one should be using
his words for hatred
against anyone
jesus appeared to me
in a dream
and he said
"I might say to
bring a sword to
battle the evil of the world
AB, I don't think you should
as you say
'bust a cap in their ass'
but words bring peace and comfort"
words of love
compassion and peace
are our weapons of choice
the word is the sword
the words may be
hard to hear though
he is pissed off
and he told me tosay that
he'll be back one day
to set us all straight
and he'll be back
to let us have it!

Andrea Biscotti

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