Poems
by Texas Fontanella
Till a pile of styx
I had a sip, trying to drown
Out the ordinary, or throw it, like when we fought with Nelly
On the radio. Ours was Mexican, to keep the ratings low, and needing a plumber. Oh, are you still homicidal, joker style? The sun thuds as we give a thumbs up. You said I hope you die, yet he heard it as diet, while my foundation seemed a low key dial. But it was minor misdemeanoured; you didn’t really mean it’s just this minute
You want a kilometer bubble of personal space
Time cos you’ve come down
Stairs taunted enough already 30/20 vision of me and mine, or you, as fish in a radio, drinking till our heads are way more geo than the capital that fiends their war crimes, and everything we were as much as wore are crimes. Brother, you pass out like no other, and more
Do I wake and or sleep
Walk “is stupid”s along the way
Side effect of the goon and lemonade
hands me a painting.
I look back at him and hes not toohey but greene, not white but black, and when I look down, hey ding! I’m holding an eight ball, and around about eight call you, saying we should do some art, I mean crack. I’ll be forty five minutes, you say, but it tracks about an hour to get here.
At tony’s, good to be so but we wouldn’t be so ourselves;
Up, we’re elsewhere, running and running, into boats, smoothly amok, finding remote controls sixty thousand leagues under the seat. It was unlike us; neat. I go home only to record such nom events. With regard, your anomaly
Ps I only want to new watch the world, burn, joker style;
The hole in my heart is brand washburn; defile it
Pasito fizz
Pillow torque catches flame trees when hit by the breath of the lawless
Snatch dreams to stall us when we coke by clueless in the big apple of my eye everything is addled / everything I sleep’s sponsored by Mattel
Such a bump
After bumpy ride they had to locktight me to the saddle
Saw Poseidon shake his rattlesnake
Like, this is the sort of fame only battles make
This one’s for you, the sort only rappers… hey
Just exclude the competition
You exude the broken laws of composition
Ventriloquise me into Petrarch
Could we please get a pet duck?
Don’t golden mean it, jest super / low waisted
Having bananas, I can come on like this all summer
Take it slow down like all the bored drums are
Playin’ love is a Battlestar Galactica
Mattress in the stars – just practical
Like voicing sin’s a tactical error
Won’t report more on Gadigal fellas
Just prod us all to stay prodigal
“Go sway in the pub / do the illogical”
Punched to hearses quick
Quacks – the worstest
Steal ain’t finished; their words yet
Switch positions, lick your pistons
The tune Milton Friedman’s Paradise Cost
Then under covers, them, dirty, copping a paraffin kiss
Chests rising like that Pasito fizz
Pasito fizz
My facts are de facto
Won’t defect, tho
You central conflict of compound interest me
Got me on the blink like it was the Link are you into me
Or could undress to the nines
Cogs bleed when I work it – goss-
Ip address me by my
Cigs breed just cos we surface fined
A notion an’ we breathe in easy as fuck it
Up for you are my rent
Boy, toyed with the blues blurred by a friendship-
Ping! came out as a free for all
Your help lines of communication break
Downsize the operation
Red wedge whenever orderin’ a beverage
Nothing else but rocks and chill in Ogdenville
Netflix party spill
Hardly ill but cough up stomachs
Three in tote that fill in for luggage
Clean up the bullshit artist act
Stitched up in one Swiftian emotion
Sickness with a quota to bridge
Tie it up in knots
Three iotas to grieve so I gas I’m owed for my tame
Implore ya – reload another wine
Time-
Frame
M.O.
Ooh, blow the flag up
Do rank the dank cunt
Spew fangs, random grunts till
The lantern’s shutters go up
And your half drunk cuppas go uncold instantly
Bubbling forth
You were meant to be sold in with me
Boot you like Italy
Switch positions, leak your pistons
The tune Milton Friedman’s Paradise Cost
More than a non paraffin kiss
Head out of fizz like d’ Pasito is
Pasito is
Welcomed with closed arms
So dumb
Spares spent doting off and on trauma queens
And out the windows all the fee loaders creep passing me
Trigger happy in their hoodies
A regime of tastes rather heady
Jams get bougie and I get boogie
Bored, faded and out of key
Cutting penny farthings into the fountain of ease
Family starving here in the garden of Eden
Diss like associates and the real’s on an easel
The cassowaries keep us, the baseheads, wary
Nearly thirty but yeah still like to crank it till it makes em dirty
Mensheviks
Might be your care but will still put a dent in it
With or without out Enough Rope, Andrew Denton it
Rapture a couplet, feet in the air
Sway in the breeze we both know ain’t all there, but’s arid
Like, I’m no poet, I’m just another cunt starving in a garrote
(Maybe that should read traphouse.)
