If there does exist the Big Jakarta Poem, it would contain all the following things:
Bratwurst und BeersMünchen within
the span of a four-leaf
clover:
The Filter Moment Has
Come.
People go out at 9.47
pm for donuts sprayed with
cheese in machines
copied illegally somewhere in
Sacramento, Calif., USA
and assembled in a war-
ehouse in the outskirts
of this city—Town Squares'
din beats the noise the
welders make with the
candy flame of their blow-
torches. Why
is everything so loud here
what happens when you com-
bine THX with Dolby? Maybe
the gallon-drum mestizo will
go off the scales and the
pretty redhead fly on the strange-
ness of her hair—you top beet!—
and all that's just about
the noise. Govinda govinda go-
vinda Jaya jaya—We've still
got David Hassellhoff on prime
time. This city is
a pan of boiling water, forget realism
and moving Amygisms
for a while now and let's
build a future harmonium while
the jury's out: Every-
thing threatens to boil off
into steam. Things disappear
the way the world's omphalos
turn from an outie into
something non-descript just
to make things easy we call
it an outie. Let's
do the long week-end at the
volcano: the merino death
cloud will make easy target
for your Canon Digital Rebel
SLR set to [symbol of thunder] or
for the optimists [symbol of cloud] & enjoy
a culinary feast with views
of terraced rice fields on green
slopes angled at the exact
degree to make the water
run down without ever appear-
ing to move. I think they
call it moving «vertically down-
stream». On boulders like houses
that pimple those green kids
sunbathe penises still recover-
ing from the bong supits' touch, bar-
baric, when they happen at 10,
11, you try to get it over &
done with before the fine fur
on the base of your cock
graduate into a full bush.
A dilemma you keep to your-
self since there's only one way
out. Forget Su Tung-p'o &
his walking stick, stop strik-
ing jagged stones with it &
start somewhere close
to a constant height
above sea-level.
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