Zonko'd

So I Got Out Of There (for Hatt and Victor)

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Wed, 28 Nov 2012 20:59:00 -0800

Went by the phone booth 8 pm

you didn't ring*

swore I heard a ring

wasn't ringing when I reached it

7:54, 7:57, 8:00 pm

the later two times

visible police on stretch

finally parked front of Hister's office

maybe somebody broke into

the doctors/the dentists'

So I got out of there

didn't want to be questioned

too stoned

and prone to overtruth

and they might say

they took me in

to protect me from my self-destructive self.

"He was telling "the Truth"

in the middle of the night, sarge.

you know what I mean," the lieutenant whispered:

like give drugs to all the fool who what them

give teevees give dinner

less crime less cost

uh oh less police

go to jail

can't have ideas like less police

sorry I meant

less of a caseload

for our present officers

jolly good fellows loves kids

free s;hoes / less murder

shoes - $20

murder - $50,000 plus upkeep(18-35, 000 per year) (for life?)

$50,00 keeps ten alive1 year maybe twenty

free beer free teevee free bus

free phone - the function of government to guarantee

the greater good of all--why have one otherwise? Sex Education,

if a government does not aid and abet the free dissemination

of healthy sex information, it aids and abets rape, it aids and abets

contagion, aids and abets the underground

drugs and sex monopoly, keep the police and pimps game in business.

Close the banks, you'll shut down the drug trade overnite,

the government may call it the mafia,

but the people know it's the banks, whatever mafia

works for the bank just like you do you and the pope

9:28 maybe I'll go past the phone booth at 10 pm

what's free speech without free phone speech

free phone less matri-patri-cide

less harassment of youth

phone companies shoujld be taxed

9:35 Dec 19, 1986 CITR

phone companies should be taxed

100% of profits tax to run teen centers

with phones and videos and pool tables

maybe intimacy cubicles maybe hot and cold liquids

snacks -- all free -- all less expensive than

the simplest crown PROSEcution and multiply that

by thousands in a city

not to mention the costly newsprint

like it might take Meares Island

to produce the documents

and news coverage of the Haida disobedience

or the toilet paper to clean the assholes

politicians shitting less they're caught

hand in your pocket, dirtying their diapers

the truly rich owe more than anybody else

and in a frenzy

seek further debt.

they want to be richer.

they want to owe more

faster 10:18 the dog and I

walk half a mile

pass the phone booth twice

9:55 and 10:01 pm

stood there ten minutes or 6.

MALICIOUS THEOLOGICAL PREPOSITIONS "an infinitely small vocabulary"

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Mon, 19 Nov 2012 19:36:00 -0800

course. (denying everything)

like oh yeah ?

this a race ?

makes blanks simpler.

You say

blanks are dead.

The human race has

no need of blanks.

Or who I'm making fun of ?

case

desperation

ever strikes

maybe tomorrow morning

fill me in

On all the latest

news

I'm all for monosyllables

plain truth is

lover, baby

needs

a new pair of snakeskin shoes

and

if you share these views please

carry on

Around

noon just

after

I'm done work

there's the alpha

always around

Under

no circumstances

do you understand

let this one elude you

or you go under

Above

the lover

there is no other

entwined with you

blissful rocking lover

melting under

the heaven above

About

this time: tomorrow

there can be no doubt

either the sun will come out

or I have no idea

what it's all about

With

true understanding

that is all

the lover

will put up with

(you've been told

before heaven

(knows the lover))

above

(the rocking lover understanding) so

below

which nothing else

is as pleasing as

get there form here

you must

yes

you just have to

For

ever and ever

I will have

no other lover

before you Alpha

or what's this doggone

trouble for

Upon

reconsidering

that is all

I want you

to base your thoughts upon

telling you this

I've done you

no favours

no horsemen

ever pass by

Between

the devil

and the deep blue sea

the acts and the words

only distinguish

the sighs

you are caught between

Against

all odds

the lover

always around

the only wall

you lean against

long last

an end

and if you are looking lover

this is the well

you'll always find me

dipping at

Billy Little

El Stupido (for Margaret Pethick, and George, of course!)

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Fri, 16 Nov 2012 19:29:00 -0800

(sleepwalking

with Uncle Emily

in the falling

rock zone)

they wanted to

sell us the truth

for free

but couldn't

get past

those stupid

(and costly) facts

the red walls sang

the blue you sang

the o.d. harmonic

the stupid old man he drank

barely eighty years old

and he drank

dribbled snoose

from both corners of his smile

and he drank

repeating himself

he loved you

over and over again

he loved you

and he drank

embarassing?

stupid to think

wisdom came from xperience

he knew enough to recruit a driver

and to love you

well deserved love

hard earned love

the log walls sang

the blue him sang

sank into drink

with the music lovers

Cinq Into Song

five stupid harmonizers

he dreamt

there were pumpkin seeds

in my maidenform bra

which ralph was wearing

his bald girlfriend

stupid adolphita

catching forty winks

beside the spotless

trident submarine

(Uncle Emily tiptoes off

to saw your violin

among the meteors)

the horse in the kitchen loved you

the donkey in the chair loved you

even the hairless bear

plinkin boogie woogie

stank with love

the bloomin japonic sang

the forsythia, the apple trees

beyond some stupid birds

the raw world sang.

Zpt5

Take The Al Train

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Sun, 26 Aug 2012 22:51:00 -0700

Let the Al phabet
put a spell on you
shake the swivelling
right brain
playing the black and white
sharks teeth
Take the Al Train
Al sin aceous
like chickweed
Al ive Al ivo
sound the Al arm
Its Al imentary
Al ation
a winged condition
hands in flight
mind in flight
pilot of the Al cohol
Al biflorous
flying white fingers
flowering flames
an Al bum
no Al lie in the Alley
Al ice in wonder scene
Al ethiolatry, the part of logic
treating the truth
Al ter the Al ternative
on the Al ter
Al tercation
Al ternity- the couterchange of vocals
and consonants
in certain Welsh rymes
Al lure Al phenic - white barley suger
Jiving the Al monde
trout Al mondine
the Al moner of bop, the king of fling
Al one Al long the flats Al loud
Al oof
Al fresco Al ike
Al cove Al beit Al ign Al lude
Al ibi Al ienation Al iotic tones
Al legiance Al leviate Al low All Al titude
Al exanders rag time band Al together Al truistic
playing Al pha rythms in our Al legory
He did it Al ways

scum squat

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 00:25:00 -0800

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 00:16:00 -0800

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 00:12:00 -0800

stop
buzz off
left turn only
less
less
moreXess

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 00:11:00 -0800

it didn't phase me
he was already disgusting

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 00:10:00 -0800

I Never Meta morphose
I didn't like.

Zonko reminds you ...

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 00:09:00 -0800

SMOKE FISH
NOT CIGARETTES

A letter from Billy to ?

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 00:05:00 -0800

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 17:46:00 -0800

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) — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 20:07:00 -0700

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 22:44:00 -0700

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 22:38:00 -0700

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 22:34:00 -0700

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) — Sun, 14 Feb 2010 23:09:00 -0800

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, 2 Feb 2010 20:25:00 -0800

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

Doodly Squat

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Tue, 2 Feb 2010 20:24:00 -0800

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

noreply@blogger.com (matthew ezra little) — Tue, 2 Feb 2010 20:22:00 -0800

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, 2 Feb 2010 00:17:00 -0800

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, 2 Feb 2010 00:00:00 -0800

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, 1 Feb 2010 18:54:00 -0800

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, 1 Feb 2010 18:48:00 -0800

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, 1 Feb 2010 18:44:00 -0800

absence of evidence
is not evidence of absence