Zonko'd

scum squat

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 00:26:19 PST

if the save the sperm fanaticks

get their way in all fairness

they should protect the viable sperm

in the male as well

no flushing this life

under penalty of punishment

some repeat offenders

might have to have

their hands

glued in their pockets

take the door of the executive washrooms

send scum patrols

scouring the neighborhood

you wouldn't be able

to get an anti-masturbation bill

thru parliament all their hands glued in their pockets

no secretaries no lobbyists

swallowing bucketsful imagine

that's freedom of religion

neighborhood watch

would police arrest police?

the fundamentalist zealots

could blockade

bus depot toilets

if you're conspiring

to violate the civil rights

of these thousands of lives

by having your semen swallowed

you might be thawt a spermicidal maniac

the Prime Minister himself

would rent tantric videotapes

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 00:16:17 PST

Do these look like real words?
do they apelike ache like real words?
do they take you
do they wind you
twist you these words like real
pain you reel salmon thumper sword fish
hurt you hook you words

sighn

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 00:12:41 PST

stop
buzz off
left turn only
less
less
moreXess

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 00:11:11 PST

it didn't phase me
he was already disgusting

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 00:10:23 PST

I Never Meta morphose
I didn't like.

Zonko reminds you ...

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 00:09:19 PST

SMOKE FISH
NOT CIGARETTES

A letter from Billy to ?

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 00:06:10 PST

Dear Friends,

As a poet and artist I've been involved in organizing cultural events in Vancouver for the last fifteen years. I'd like to be employed by the social planning department on a six month temporary basis to create an exhibition tentatively titled "No Place To Live: Focus on The Homeless."

Artists, Architects, Inventors as well as the general public would be invited to submit their practical (or fanciful) responses to this shameful byproduct of redevelopement. The exhibition would be installed in city hall as well as other venues thoughout the city. I believe I could convince the private sector to contribute the lion's share of the resources and funds required for the successful mounting of this exhibition. Maybe some fresh ideas would inspire our political leaders, if one useful idea arises from the exhibition it would have been worth the time and effort.

As I said I'd like to be employed on a six month temporary basis, I'd like to be paid $10 an hour (as a social assistance recipient I believe the province would be willing to pay 35% of that).

All I'd need is a desk, a telephone, access to the secretarial pool and the photocopy machine. I'd like to start in November. Does this seem possible to you?

I'm sure that Dorothy Metcalfe at the Vancouver Art Gallery 682-4668, Henry Bull at the Western Front 876-9343 or Stan Persky 555-5555* would be happy to provide any references you require.

Thanks for your kind consideration.

Sincerely,

Billy Little

A (Love) Letter from Andrea Erickson to Billy 1990

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Tue, 11 Jan 2011 17:47:18 PST

Billy...

Billy is the grandfather, the father, the friend.

I love him and want him to know that, feel that.

Does he know to what respect I love him,

how much I love him.

That I really truly deeply care abound/for him?

It's like we dance around talking and being together

and when I sit here and consciously think about my feelings

for him, I say to myself "why can't I ever just break through

the barrier that seems to be there?" & say "Hey I really love you,

I have huge love for you." & respect for you as a brilliant artist.

Yes it's actually and honestly brilliant.

I love your off beat/on beat way.

I love your words and your mind and your soul.

I love you being the grandfather.

Everything you do and are is totally great with me.

I accept all of you.

I love you unconditionally.

I love you.

You, Billy Little.

Maybe I don't say it because... well why?

I sit here and I ask myself why?

Fear of rejection?

No and I guess yes to that one, too.

I'm sick of feeling love for people and not letting them know.

Maybe I'd get a "So, you love me? So what?"

Or maybe I feel like you wouldn't believe that the love is exactly unconditional.

Well it is.

Whether I am believed or understood, I know my truth.

I sit here and analyze me and Billy.

Every time I've come here since I got myself together,

I've wanted to express my love, and every time I leave,

I feel like I didn't get it across.

It's always "see ya" and on the other side of the "see ya"

is the repression of the real feelings.

Then there is this self doubt.

What is the big deal that you love this guy?

Well, it is a "big deal" to me in a sense because

the feelings are good, and I feel good about them.

Here I am babbling and analyzing and most of all,

loving him.

I started out writing this to him, Billy, you, Billy and

I couldn't just straight write "Dear Billy, I love you",

I have to go on and on and justify and etc.

So I am giving you this whole thing, to let you know

that I don't just come here and "see ya".

I love you.

Matt and I talk about it and you and his love and my love for you.

Then when I see you I dance around about it.

I do have respect for you and your work.

You are so many "things" and I love them all.

I guess my biggest fear is that you wont believe me,

and that's "stupid".

Why fear the truth Andrea?

I have looked long at the truths and lies in my life.

I am in truth now (and still babbling towards an end).

So, I am letting go of all the "whatevers", and letting you know

that I deeply love you.

(I think I've said it all, in alot of ways, well that's the way love is,

it's repetitive)

Love All ways,

Andrea

Our Minds Work So Weird

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Wed, 29 Dec 2010 18:08:25 PST

We wait for the worries to come back into our minds.
A whole new world is waiting for us to discover.
To be amazed by the world's secrets and mysteries, that we may never know.
Us humans could really be aliens.
History could all be made up.
Maybe books are just our imagination.
Our minds work so weird.

written by Moshe Little Guient July 22 2010, (Moshe is Zonko's youngest grandson)

A Little Yellow Casket

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Sun, 23 May 2010 22:44:07 PDT

the casket of the future
will have better lighting
so the worms can
read your resume
memorize your triumphs
will have bone soluble drugs
horocides misting periodically
by the time you die
caskets will have everything
digital postcards
winking and huggable tombstones

Imperatives

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Sun, 23 May 2010 22:38:07 PDT

breathe
eat
drink
void
read
ask
love
weep
laugh
forget
die

The Committee of Correctness Central Road Chrome Island, B.C.

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Sun, 23 May 2010 22:34:40 PDT

Dear X,
We are saddened to be required to inform you, that these writings which you may think are poems are not.
And sadder yet to remind you of the penalty for distributing unapproved
IMAGINARY POEMS

sonnet/ghasp valentine (for U, ugly as u iz)

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 01:02:31 PST

lizzen kidden fyoulish is

of the ezzens even

valuble anticipated even

enabling all mbracing Kayressing chissing

zensational thirty finga whispa thin romeo

translucent gab lubricant jeyev

luce snort sy love iz st range

or pennytrait sundercome

vaginable penisphilia

enviable hysterectal askidental

xeptional njoymeantal st eerieo

ewrecked efecked shiv

ering dryppe dryppe

grip lyppe letter wryppe

dialectics 69

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 20:25:46 PST

why I want you back.
why I never wanted you in the first place.

Doodly Squat

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 20:24:22 PST

Are you nothing.
I'm less.
I haven't made bisquits in 6 weeks

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 20:22:13 PST

you found a pencil in the storm

and clung for life
it lied to you
it lifted you
it lightened you
it listening to your lies
it loosened your waistband
and loosens now
your juicey loving
some pencil

Sick Song of the Socred

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 00:18:40 PST

is the extremest melody
me first me first me first
the song of the swine
fuck everybody else
who don't have yatchs
or shovels
the song of the slime
slithering through the
lobby of the Empress
fuck everybody
that don't have 2 strong arms
to dig their own graves
fuck those union troublemakers
get their fingers
out of our pie

the song of the certifiable neanderthals
snaking out of
the cloakrooms of the legislature
so what I guess I'm saying is
recognize the Premier's
song and dance
listen to it quick
because it's never
going to make
the top 40
it's not going to to make
the hit parade
what we're after
is better lives
not more money, profits,
antiques, extinct animal luxuries
better lives
money can't buy
me love

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 00:19:07 PST

I was born in a book
look look
my heart is an open book
born to read
and born to sing
the blues
they took a reading
on the meter
and found out I read you
do you read me partner
the reading is mutual
read this it's so soft
read you later alligator
there's read enough
in this stew
to starve an army
I'll read you
on the corner
of story street
in the fourth corner
did you read
the ferry to nanaimo
take me to your reader
shut up and read me alone
my phants were read
my palm was read
the reading rights
of the silent scream
every time you read
about a sucessful
revolution
the first thing they do
is teach the people
how to read
read me the riot act
you can read a horse
to water
but you can't make it
write

My name is Balloon

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 18:54:53 PST

Balloon the pretty kitty, they can call me
Marilyn, but I know how I feel.
I feel like a yellow helium
balloon when I put the
pump in my mouth all light
and floating in the air and
getting bigger and bigger and
lighter and lighter and higher
and higher until a whole
fleet of 747's could fly into
me at which point of course
I explode back to the size of
the pretty pussy I am at the
end of my leash

zonko

Vengence for De Pape (Sammy Sammy)

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 18:48:35 PST

I'm sorry for all the things
I've done in my life
that upset you
and will try
not to let it happen again
even though I know
the passionate response
even in it's cruelty
makes life more real
my life is too real as it is
I need peace
and trust and
good loving
a laugh in the morning
a dance in the afternoon

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 18:44:26 PST

absence of evidence
is not evidence of absence

quaffing a blitz at the spot

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 18:43:26 PST

pouring the beer is easy
lugging the cases
you get used to
it's the psychological hassle
that get's to you

Interviews from the afterlife

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 18:39:35 PST

after
life

after
light

glow
figure

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 18:38:21 PST

four qorm
from
form
farm

warm
form

forewarmed
is four armed

forewarm
arch

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 18:36:17 PST

your career
in writing

as soon
as you got
paper the
ribbon
ran out
as sonn
as you got
ribbon
the electric
failed