Every assignation of an inheritance
harbors a contradiction and a secret 


I thought I was paying attention
but my virtuactual mediagogical ontology 
is out of control. I am having trouble 
com/opposing under these conditions. Don’t tell me 
to get lost inside poetic modes of the present.
Are planes as in plateaus weapons? 
Will my call to vigilance
incur long-distance roaming charges?
My “Homeland Security” measures 872 square feet  
and overlooks low income housing projects fully equipped with spacious private
 terraces and free satellite dishes   (in the name of 
interiorizing technotelemediatic simulacra).

I don’t know about you, but I am titillated by the possibility of attacks.
Once I had a Big Mac Attack, someone sd: Freedom’s waiting for you.
Is there always “Service with a Smile”?
My jouissance is a weapon of mass destruction.
Does my chia-pet need to be fingerprinted, photographed and catalogued?

hey, pardon me, that’s my bio-weaponry air taxi!

I am in the market of dislodging, dislocating exporting expatriating singularity.
Is conversation a political act?
Do iraqi ladies lunch?
 
oh c’mon, I just want a little over-the-counter terrorism 
(an outpost for tyrrany). I’m up to my artillery in 
friendly rhetoric, mosqued intentions – 
I got myAbu Ghraib bag, my 
Falujah shot…and am 
ready for the season!


							HOLY SHIITE! 

Just imagine, the subjection of
fragrant failures, fickle fluffers like bloated alms, armed with definition
the cumulative brokering endlessly externalized 
through bruised elusories, cruisin’ floozies pimping the paradox of 
raging contagion, agencies of flagellant pageants
sipping eros through the engines of indiscriminate stimmung.

I’m looking for the new juicy couture bomb bag.

I feel insurrectionally restless. Is this 
a strategic indicator?

Is that a dirty bomb in your Manolo’s or are you just happy to []?

How do you escape the tyranny of untimeliness? My hypothesis is 
that this excess overflows the limits of the present.


        		       osama time when the livin’ was [] 

Today my “Code Orange” is sticky sweet and seedless. I 
undress it slowly. I pronounce it “fruit”. In some places 
this “fruit”grows wild on trees. Vivre L’Orange!
Does this demand an elevated response?

Take my hand, now
and enjoy this anti-hegemonic ideological shuffle.

Is the master an imposter?
	
	    (impeachably clean, jelly bean)

Oh go on, rim my er-innerung
front runner inner rung,  
and interrupt these important messages with  
an epistle of
abyssal 
a green and yellow
missile. 

You iraq my world  (coveting in the 
merry meridian mercredi of radiating culverts, coverts, 
cavorting in the kinky concourse  
of transactional knowledge.


jihadii hadii hadii ho 


And, as you travel, remember, there are always delays.

in the Suni Muslim heartland                  

		      ((Suni Day…sweepin’ the…))

in the SUNY Buffalo Program
in the sunny skies of Bag-Daddy

Are all strap-on devices explosive? 
Does a de-Baathification process involve 
hot-oil treatments? Has the
“face of terror” had botox?

I am trying to sit back and react.