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Slack_Selassie
The world is a strange theatre of pain with many of us wearing a mask or two. Might as well enjoy the ride and make tracks along the way.
19 Posts • 137 Followers • 1.3k Following
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Cover image for post Three Strangers, by Slack_Selassie
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Slack_Selassie in Prose

Three Strangers

What now led them to the station

When the crowd had fled the scene?...

This vacuum of incarceration...

Staring down through balance beams

Rats surveyed the three lost souls...

Faces mismatched in the gloom...

One: a bald young man who spun

Hand-picked wax for his enjoyment...

The other: a overly cautious sex worker

Dressed head to toe in black...

The last: a strung-out salesclerk;

A product of our high-tech times...

Now here they all stood like

Some incoherent team!...

Who would say the first word,

And melt the ice which chilled

Their bloodstream?...

The bumbling, and well stretched

Seconds seemed to tumble

Down an excavated well from Hell...

At long last the DJ Xavier

Leaned, half turning from his shell,

Tapping lightly on Vanessa's tattooed neck...

Her repulsed flesh caused her to yell

Which summoned Simon from his

Pod-cast...

He dropped his phone, bent to

The ground....

...Just then the tube pulled in,

And shuddered...

It's doors flew open;

The three hopped on...

Each person immediately flew

To opposite sides of their vessel...

Each island of a human

Vanished behind stubble, or

Pouting lips,

And drooping eyes...

What now led them to the station

When the crowd had fled the scene?...

This vacuum of incarceration...

Staring down through balance beams

Rats surveyed the three lost souls...

Faces mismatched in the gloom...

Alone...Not lonely...

Their fantasies continuing to pave their way...

What forbidden words would they have shared

To punctuate the pregnant stillness?...

It's not for you or I to say...

8/25/23

Bunny Villaire

Edir#2

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Slack_Selassie

Reflecting Seaside

I crashed into the chasm of you...

I fell like a microcosmic flea...

Like a booger in the eye...

Like a pea from a premature pod...

Insisting to myself that you would do the same,

That you'd return the favor...

Perhaps I wasn't so insistent...

Perhaps I had an ulterior motive beyond the palm trees,

And the languid sea kelp that swishes this way and that

While the sun makes diamonds on the reflecting tide...

Whatever the true origin of my reasoning,

I realize I'm not dispensable...

And one grows hollow when they shed their scales

Never allowing flowers of their unique beauty to fully blossom...

I crashed into the chasm of you!...

But now I'm rolling up the draw bridge...

Don't gaze into the skies for me...

I've slipped through fingers like loose sand...

7/27/23

Slack I Salessie

Cover image for post A modicum of sympathy, by Slack_Selassie
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Slack_Selassie

A modicum of sympathy

In the blink of a Motherfucking eye

You see in

to great chasms of depths

of your own back-side, (your foolish pride?)

as you wonder

like a wounded plundered Panda

if what falls to pieces (crash!)

may also be super-glued back together again...

...Ah, but the play is much more tragic

than what you had hid up your Magic Sleeve...

Or is it really a true tear-jerker?...

Fuck your open nostril,

I want to know because I feel the murk and mud

of the swamp on my chilled and defunct heels...

Sweat on my browning brow...

Seconds to heal this swollen sore of seeming nothing,

when others need their borrowing(burrowing?) of minutes

then you'd refuse to lend...

Take it with you...

Down the cup,

before the race has ended...

The choice is yours,

the blade descending

like a fallen star of futility.

8/7/20

Cover image for post Constipation (Asshole Blues), by Slack_Selassie
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Slack_Selassie in Comedy

Constipation (Asshole Blues)

Clench my fist, and squeeze my

throbbing sphincter

until a bit of brown starts crowning...

...That’s as it should be,

though if I’d grant an entry;

(an operative tincture)

of the color red upon my brow

while I sit squirming, spitting mad

on my ivory throne, alone,

and without mercy,

I will undoubtedly disclose

the deepest of all treasured secrets

for one pitiful release

as if the KGB were on my case

with bolts and screws,

torturing my wrecked body

for a view inside the enemies

encampment...

If only I could flux,

or finally shit upon command!...

There’s nothing up my butt,

or sleeve...

No trick hid within these hands!...

Bleeding out from my pores,

I seep like gas in some old lot...

Farting hot just like a furnace

that might die from one more shot.

This constipation kills,

and when no pill can clear my gut

I’ll beg to suck two loaded barrels

just so at long last I'll be cut...

...and then, right as rain

sweat pours down,

agonized, I grip the sink

and bang both knees

together in erotic bliss

as I make my filthy stink!...

...At last I’ve dropped a Hershey Kiss!

I jump up in idiot glee

to view the doo that freed my weight...

I glance down, and sadly see

it’s just my heart

dying in a heaving mess...

...Jeeeesus Christ!...

Put to the test

just to be duped!...

I’ve crapped a precious piece of me

that will be missed so very soon

as I topple over on the bathroom tiles,

and swiftly die a wretched death...

...My struggle all for nothing!...

These Asshole Blues

bring sting

just like a theft

elicits vibes of violation,

like my ass was rented out...

Fuck these Blues!...

I need a breather!...

Tell me when I can crap out!

©

Slack

(Edit #4)

3/26/20

Cover image for post Tjung-gra, by Slack_Selassie
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Slack_Selassie

Tjung-gra

Have any of you heard of the great Aboriginal artist

George Tjung-gra

who dissolves like sands of the hour glass

into the retina of the mind's eye, and then

transfigures a miracle at the base of the mid spine

within a mere matter of mortal seconds?...

I first became aware of his most holy of presences

when I treked the rock shelters at Madjedbebe

of Nauwalabila.

My third eye opened as he winked into my conciousness,

and that was all I needed...

I instantly converted to his art cult that required constant awareness

and 24 hour attention to all of the pop art sensationalism that was he

which begs a person give up all earthly belongings and jump aboard the

Tjung-gra train for an 7 easy payments of 5,000 and 34 hundred dollars

every new moon...

His art is so impossibly huge is girth that Tjung-gra is dwarfed by the audaciously

moutainous size of it, and appears like a small infant child when standing astride it.

Why do you not know of Tjung-gra?

Why do you not breathe Tjung-gra?

Why do you not bleed Tjung-gra?

I have already paid in blood and removed my second testicle to satisfy his insatiable hunger for sacrifice.

Tjungra promised he'd mount me and then create a painting of the act for all to see at the next Australian council.

He is my life-blood and my internal unborn fetus. My creatitivity incarnate though I am sapped of all my juices when he demands them at constant intervals.

Tjungra satisfies. Tjungra never lies. Tjungra is my sun and moon...but who I pray tell is your sun and moon?...don't tell me you rely on yourself?...that is much too fickle!...

Tjungra should be your Daddy Momma and I swear that if you tickle

his belly button just that way

he'll cure you well into your dying day.

03-06-20

Slack i Salessie

Art by: George Tjungurrayi

Cover image for post Living Out My Childhood Dreams, by Slack_Selassie
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Slack_Selassie

Living Out My Childhood Dreams

This is more to me than you’d think it seems...

This is not some phase, and you should be thankful

that I take the time on that heavy brow

that is gazing dull

from two black hole shoots...

You may think I’m just up here steaming from an open vent,

living out my childhood dreams,

(as if that were some ill thing...)

sure there’s all that, but there’s more deep down

at the bursting core

that you’re blatantly disregarding...

Maybe you think that we’ve all gone

Freak Mode during a blackout,

exposing a world of woes

like a gang of shot up cowboys

dying in some hole of a forgotten bar,

the hot mess of our brains slithers out

the back of our sabatoged heads

onto the dirty linoleum down below us...

Give these words time before you turn shrieking down that alley!...

Let them germinate and detonate in the cerebellum,

and maybe something will

go off inside...(BING! BAM!)

I pray that you will soon see

that this isn’t just a game,

or only mindless blowing off of steam...

...Yes, I’m living out my childhood dreams,

trying to build better worlds

with each utterance of raw word...

...Hope this helps you to realize

That there’s more then what you know,

and much more then what you see...

Take a chance, we’ve room to grow!...

Black and white is not our color scheme!...

We are charging to a hidden groove

in the record,

like some engine gaining power...

We’ll be tearing down those tracks with force

’fore you know the day or hour,

and we’ll throw you for a loop too soon!...

...Better get on board our Terror Train!...

Yes it’s true, it takes a lot of fuel,

but with mad mavericks like us

we’ll knock out all competition...

All those sleepy-eyed elite...

Yes, they give us more ambition

to attack them in their sleep...

...Fuck them if they’d never listen...

We will answer what’s unsaid

in the recess of their squared heads...

We must follow the loose thread

down into the rabbit hole...

Edit#4

02-27-20

Slack i Salessie

Cover image for post Here I Go, Out of Control Again!..., by Slack_Selassie
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Slack_Selassie

Here I Go, Out of Control Again!...

Feeling sick and sly,

or is it slick and high?...

Not sure which or whether the later...

...saw you postioned on the top rung of your ladder...

Why are you there/when will you fall

to a place where we can talk this out?...(you're so remote!)...

...Right now you only fuck about

when I need for a better answer...

Rome was not built in a day, and all your posturing

it only says how cruelly incomptent are your ways...

I think your kind's seen better days...

Your brain is festering on a tray

out on the lawn where a

passing mutt stops to linger,

then to piss on your pasta primavera that passes for a

simmering cerebellum...

...The fuck you thinking?...

You overwhelm them that dare to dream

while your thick stream of diluted shit's like

a reflective pool of gasoline at some

bowling alley parking lot that's been forgot...

I think I have run out of steam

examining what could of been, but then

you twitch a wretched eyeball in your socket(corner pocket),

and something shudders undercover in a place that seemingly

I can't control...

OH NO!!!!!!...

Why do you continue to insist

on a blighted existence when you should kiss

your life goodbye by walking out

in front of traffic???...

...I now imagine

your arms and eyes and limbs tear off from a bus

when it tears through you at high speeds...

...but still I'm down here,

on my knees

begging for a shriveled piece of pie...

...Oh my, oh my...oh why, oh why???...

...Fuck if I know, but here I go!...

Out of control again!

02-13-20

Slack i Salessie

Cover image for post Ishtar the Cat Wakes Up In a Sweat, by Slack_Selassie
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Slack_Selassie

Ishtar the Cat Wakes Up In a Sweat

i dreamt i was a buddhist, but

it turned out i was wrong...

...i'm only just a house cat

that has slept a teense too long,

and now i'm just awaking...

...what a funny state i'm in!...

i dreamt i was a buddhist monk...

when did that dream sneak in?...

where do i get these crazy views?...

it's really very strange

when i sleep on a couch all day,

and live so out of range

of any eastern thought beliefs...

...where do i get the gall

to meditate, and be a flower

while rolled up in a ball?...

i dreamt i was a buddhist, but

it turned out i was wrong...

...i'm only just a house cat

that has slept a teense too long,

and now i'm just awaking...

...what a funny state i'm in!...

i dreamt i was a buddhist monk...

when did that dream sneak in?...

02-10-20

Slack i Salessie

Cover image for post Unrest, by Slack_Selassie
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Slack_Selassie

Unrest

Eyeing a new way

to direct my time...

...I was wallowing

among the fixed few...

Parties nonstop will

never die, but this

apathy is sticking

like glue...

You've found what you need,

tho there are spaces between...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

You've found what you need,

tho there are spaces between...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

Living at the top

of this edifice

I can see all the

cars down below...

...At night I tumble

into my abyss...

Arms reach out, but

There's nothing to hold...

You've found what you need,

tho there are spaces between...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

You've found what you need,

tho there are spaces between...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

Whether rich or poor

we all have agonies...

...and they come in

assortment of size...

Either bills, or new thrills

of heightened unease...

...It's a marvel any

one is alive!...

You've found what you need,

tho there are spaces between...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

You've found what you need,

tho there are spaces between...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

...of unrest!...

02-5-20

Slack i Salessie

Cover image for post Back Splash, by Slack_Selassie
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Slack_Selassie

Back Splash

I was minding my own business...

I was doing my own thing...

I was out among the stars...

I was a speck upon the beach...

When crisis cast her eyes on me...

When crisis cast her pretty eyes...

When crisis tossed the kitchen sink...

The wall fell open in one blink,

and I was in like Flynn, and thick

with all the spirits one could pick

out of the shadows that grow out

of indecision, and high doubt...

When crisis in her camouflage

came purring by, the world on pause

was gaping at her fiery glow...

There is so little that they know...

Clocktower chimes and at the brink

We must imbibe the missing link,

and find what begs to be ignored...

What crisis chilled us to the core?...

...And now that we have found her eyes

Within the glass, there's no surprise

that we can muster, as we've known

That crisis now is coming home.

01-24-20

Slack i Salessie