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Reckon

The Whole World's A Stage | Share a key intuit

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Exquisite Fawn Fescue

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categories: poetry, Word, Chris Weige
Sunday 07.14.13
Posted by Reckon
 

I Was Get, Notes on

I was get

In the cigar ship

With the shapes shift

I was sense

Something in the letters man

Elaborate language

I was get

Very strong scents In the visions

I was get

Ukulele totem

Tiny bubbles

For liberty or anguish

Oval inter webbed oracles

I was feel-healing magnets

Breathing around me

Pulsating laser-eyed cats

That's the way I was feeling

I must tell it better

The sense I was get

I must go so strong love

Very strong with the letters

Outside and inside the nature

Above and below how you say

The poetry stations

Yes yes In this moment yes

Yes yes

categories: poetry, Chris Weige
Wednesday 07.10.13
Posted by Reckon
 

Notes on Rooting Rhythm

One sky and ocean give one wind -- always give,

history told by hers in stories

Like silver moon crescendoing that love

that sometimes weaving one wind carrying the Great Plains,

or the hilltop morning mirrors,

words taking breathers out of pages,

Light farms and planting geometry ever.

That yields to rooting rhythm of then charging the Red River and oranges blush.

Hear then Hear it then through the designs:  ridges, pivots and protein sing

for every rooftop and seesaw swing.

categories: poetry, Chris Weige
Wednesday 07.10.13
Posted by Reckon
 

Tongue Suck Slowly Sneak

Notes on (body):

I like this she said

You oughta send something juicy

It's true I'd rather it be a nibble of me i'd rather it be my nimble tongue

Sucking slowly sneaking in & outta the room it's true

My tongue suck slowly sneak from your dirty head to your dirty feet

categories: poetry, Chris Weige
Wednesday 07.10.13
Posted by Reckon
 

Notes on gold rush

Supervisors, act...tell me about your temples and make it symbols. 

With brain signals move a cursor across the screen window

minus the mindless mouse,

write me a letter and cut the lights on all through the house.  

Lovers watch lovers happening through a gateway...spit into each other's mouths. 

Gold rush waiting.

categories: Chris Weige, poetry
Monday 07.08.13
Posted by Reckon
 

This Ticket Feels Delicious

Notes on Sushi Mouth A.M.

THIS TICKET FEELS DELICIOUS   [ SUSHI MOUTH A.M ]   monk talk and the room spins spam panorama

this ticket feels delicious and funny looking,

it spills chemicals on my dishes down my spine pour wishes

golden vitamins

Sexlust, that tantric tesla umbrella spider,

That cobra kink tying a faucet round a sink:  

Feet on shoulders are delicious.

She opens her eyes, unifies the noon midnight

ride her

categories: poetry, Chris Weige
Sunday 07.07.13
Posted by Reckon
 

Here is a simple orgasm and how...

I had to bribe my way in to see the distraction of the mustache.

Zigzag through a maze of whispers and smoke machine spotlights.

Now it is a business suit instead of a ski mask or eye patch.

Charm and charisma.

Hostile money (there is no better investment).

Slurp, usurp, glut reaction. 

 

Weak.  Wanted it All.

categories: Chris Weige, poetry
Sunday 07.07.13
Posted by Reckon
 

The Head She Gave Good Word

Some stand watch near footpaths leading to opium farms. Here where it is lush radio sounds perk everyone up. On each station is a so-called chance occurrence, happenstance deja vu, remember? Backlit light on the dashboard flickering. She's on the edge manipulating the dial with her toes, vexing voyeur machine with dirty soles and crooked teeth. She has the lips and reason
She has wisdom & knows what to do
She has me and
She has you.

categories: Chris Weige, poetry
Sunday 07.07.13
Posted by Reckon
 

Working Title

Room temperature this afternoon

A film by Ana U. Jiram

categories: Chris Weige, poetry, reckon
Sunday 07.07.13
Posted by Reckon
 

Susceptible Jeans

On or off yr diet salivates while morale plummets
On off behavior is what causes the body to cling to its fat!
This means that when you least expect it yr in a seminar gathering evidence for susceptible genes.
You know damn well what it mean.
Gimmick circuits continuous waves electric chains
Programming

Who promised you everything? for a dime a dollar
And a meat hook?

Cults & Big Business
It's pretty much the same.

categories: poetry, Chris Weige
Sunday 07.07.13
Posted by Reckon
 

Search Poem

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categories: goem, Chris Weige, poetry, tech
Sunday 07.07.13
Posted by Reckon
 

Old Poem Entered Backwards (Detail)

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categories: poetry, Chris Weige, twitter
Sunday 07.07.13
Posted by Reckon
 

Nude Fiddling

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categories: poetry, Chris Weige, reckon
Sunday 07.07.13
Posted by Reckon
 

Overheadr (OH)

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categories: reckon, poetry, Chris Weige
Sunday 07.07.13
Posted by Reckon
 

How Poem Teeth

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categories: reckon, poetry, Chris Weige
Sunday 07.07.13
Posted by Reckon
 

Mags hearts peru

Mags was made and to him a statue they did dedicate

on a marbled checker floor in a building larger on the inside
than on the out, an always changing spaceway whose grand piano
wore beautiful top form teeth.

“I’m down with you in any language,” he liked to say.

Of course this was approved by the authors whose hostile guard and foreign diets alarmed everyone.

Mags knew all about tormented verbs and seismic everything, some Shambala widespread and moreover: petroleum and the African lineage, the anthropologist’s astonishing South that mystified
continually Oahu unified in the recognized Earth.

Genetic was his eyezenhower satellite
with Maya in Maya and sweet Iroquois in Iraq.
His voice drilled deeply these names and tales
of other voice box invasions by candlelight in Polynesia
(where he first read of the great American race)

Mags hearted Peru and all his LED encounters over immortal land-bridges
suspended under root and foot, written in the enlightened regions by the full population,
hydrides, high-rises, even long-sewn yarns living in lakes in painful-hard glassy-broken-vessel jars.

8.15.07.

Chris Weige | Texas | Sagacity 08

Architecture For Humanity has launched a Peru Earthquake Reconstruction Appeal to raise funds for upcoming reconstruction efforts. While actual design and construction aid may not begin for a few months, AFH needs your donations today to help provide funds for long term rebuilding.

categories: Chris Weige, poetry
Thursday 07.04.13
Posted by Reckon
 

Diving Board: Erasure poems from many moons

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categories: Chris Weige, poetry
Tuesday 07.02.13
Posted by Reckon
 

Notes on hot intergalactic hullabaloo

The April Molina Was Scrumptious

What kind of planet was it can't remember...it was the home of 'The Whopper'

Written on long eyelashes and blonde ambiance

"We bought a load of weed off a veiled subplot named Trombone who loved nothing more than the Nile river." ~ Justin with the buck tooth fetish

A disappointed Jon Bon Jovi in a look cocked sunken suddenly clumsy sullenly sleek since solo was the easiest of all.  (Tunes that taste like toast)

Centuries of Drugs

Just Nod if You Can Hear Me,

Hot Intergalactic Hullabaloo



categories: Chris Weige, poetry
Tuesday 07.02.13
Posted by Reckon
 

Notes on nine dollar wine

A jug of iced tea on a freshly cut lawn between two sprinklers

A hand rolled cigarette at a quarter to five

Sex drugs Stones Beatles

Hooked on phonics remembering how to read

How odd, how neat, how futuristic

Hooked on the broadcast mediums

Clairvoyant opportunists playing with erasers and a ton of young skin,

And through the body becoming it, breath a wind made words in the moment You

Listen still not knowing what to do (good).  The mysterious manuscript brings riches and immortality.

Remember everything in 33 seconds and eliminate all your debt, remember your will your every wish knowing this knowingness through

And through the body becoming it, breath a wind makes words in the moment You

And the love part keeps picturing it, the love part half a minute ago, that was the moment I knew.

categories: Chris Weige, poetry
Tuesday 07.02.13
Posted by Reckon
 

Notes on romaniac

Frozen has oil forever in the vegetable beaks.
How easy. 

Tesla would employ blank and ignite haplogroups
Over the great global earth soup,

Raising organic arcs to ascertain
The mantle who married the crust.

Love.  It's fun when you get the knack of it,
But where did they get the money from?

He was a scientist, and a good one.
He could thread a cloud through a giant mountain, Motherfuckers.

categories: Chris Weige, poetry
Tuesday 07.02.13
Posted by Reckon
 
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