What Occupy do did did on Wall Street bent over backwards in the hurricane breeze

[Bled Welder]

Who are you, you beings in my teqquila, you who inch out, and sliiiither,
over the desert grass.

Inchworwms from hell.

Oh I see--once I soberup, the mirage is gone.

Wood you not concur, grandmasters Trace und Morrrrsss.

Let there lather.  Mean motherfuckers.



On Fri, Nov 23, 2012 at 9:47 PM, David Morris <fqmorris at gmail.com> wrote:

> Cool, birdless.
>
>
> On Friday, November 23, 2012, Joseph Tracy wrote:
>
>> I can wormly affirm that nosiree bob, apart from a smallish guinness and
>> all those crazy words running freely about, no mind altering substances
>> were involved. Hey, thanks all , for the kind words. Hope all had some
>> stuff to thank somebody for and were able to enjoy your favorite just
>> desserts and inspirational beverages etc. I went birdless if not wordless
>> and made a Beef Carbonnade.
>> On Nov 23, 2012, at 11:17 AM, David Morris wrote:
>>
>> > Was this written under the influences of any drugs?
>> >
>> > On Friday, November 23, 2012, David Morris wrote:
>> > Not bad! Pretty good!
>> >
>> > On Friday, November 23, 2012, Joseph Tracy wrote:
>> > The malign and  and less malign and not some line where the water rose
>> and the bank notes melted down in the doo do vault. Down in the voodoo salt
>> and the oily soily seasmell. Back in 2012 in the first wave when the wall
>> street machine was stlll holding the line, and lining the vault with fresh
>> doo doo notes in the days of the empire. I hurt it then when the umpire
>> state called strike one. I heard the hiss of the acid ocean eating under
>> the bed under the bedrock  and the occupation came rolling like waves under
>> the bed into their dreams like lions on the prowl, likes wolves on the
>> howl, like poison turkeys floating up the Hudson, like radio waves tuned to
>> trouble.
>> >
>> > "There's a sign out on the doorpost, sayin this land is condemned, all
>> the way from New Orleans Up to Jerusalem"
>> >
>> > Dylan shmilan  let's have some killin, Happy hanukah Gaza. Cuz all the
>> smart guys know the more poison ya got the safer you glow, An baby we got
>> mountains of it. We'll never run out.  We got prisons the size of countries
>> to keep em from the holy poison we own. We a solid as a wall.
>> >
>> > "There's a kind of flush, all over the world tonight, all over the
>> world you can hear the sound of sewers too full." The Turdles perform live
>> and dead tonight on that street that ,  no matter where you are, is near
>> you:
>> >
>> > Wall Street. Wall Street. Wall Street. Wall Street. Wall Street. Wall
>> Street. Wall Street.
>> > Wall Street. Wall Street. Wall Street. Wall Street. Wall Street. Wall
>> Street. Wall Street.
>> >
>> > Solid. Just Solid.  Some solid solids. Some soiled solids with
>> unstoppable liquidity.  Serious liquid solids sold and sought and seriously
>> solid.
>> >
>> > Wall Street.  Where the solid shit shines with unstoppable liquidity.
>>  No Occupants allowed.  We don't want them soiling our shiny shit. We are
>> unoccupied. Completely and fully unoccupied in every serious and solid
>> sense of unstoppable liquidity.  We own the idea of solid.  We own the
>> zeroes piled like mountains. The zeroes that are the solid steel bars that
>> line the malign and hold the prisons that we make with our endless
>> liquidity.
>> >
>> > Back in the days before the big waves came
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >
>>
>>
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