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the curiosity of the click, growing thru gravel and traveling back to the Mediterranean with Twombly for inspiration; I composed this piece thinking about Judas; old city smoke sifting around cans of skyline chili floating around a seventh-floor horizon; puritans fill the cosmos and reform net-caught sections of the middle class to fit higher altitudes, bigger attitudes, a permanent status of mushy software brain; invading the home of the scam artist and finding the blueprints for the Enlightenment; wosX’s End of World Rave, pro-longed doom, dilated pupils, dimly lit factory interiors, and the pulsating pressure of a crowd gone numb; okay weird language aside do you get it now, all these repeat ad campaigns and the locked doors of industrial districts and the perpetual and eventual mega-city layouts and the never ending list of dietary restrictions this is forever, like forever forever, everlasting, shopping inside a bathroom lull, you cannot kill yourself or be cheeky, unless you want to send a picture of your gigantic dump to the family group chat, spice things up a little; 

i am a Tyson food experiment kid,

lethargy and BHT, hormones in surplus;

glahns scran, fiber optic distribution cabling,

digestive systems integrated and remodeled;

google cows with down syndrome,

(go ahead and do it, ya sick fucking freak)


American fried chicken in Edinburgh;

running after your stolen backpack,

the culprit sprints thru the Fringe festival,

blending into street performance, staged art;


Arnold Schwarzenegger drinking Coke;

an unruly Knave grabbing a TV remote

from his tyrant King and saying: “mines!”

adding an egg ovipositor sex toy to the wish list,

taking off the Bernie 2016 bumper sticker;

slightly sarcastic sincerity mixed with

untranslatable meta-irony;

plates of sandwiches slabbed up with vegemite,

Messy Coneys, golden-white Lindt Lindor balls,

63 degree eggs, and plain bagels burnt black;

[2341, 2341]


an email ruined my day

what is “electronic mail”

shove me into a macerating pump;

willis: “that man is a tank of productivity; he’s up my gut tho, for sure”

me: “yeah, but, you ever notice that he never really yells at the amigos?”

willis: “man, sometimes i’d give my right nut just to not know English anymore;”


I need to do something different it’s 2024 that’s a good even number you know, the perfect poem will never touch paper, it will be recorded visually between blinks and then it will be immediately forgotten; going to get McDonalds sucks now, remember when those old guys used to meet up at McDonalds real early when you would go in the morning for breakfast hot cakes and bacon egg & cheese McGriddles and you knew those wise guys were talking about the darkest shit ever like war or their selfish grandkids or maybe they were talking about black people, like probably Michelle Obama specifically – now I understand why my dad prefers Burger King;

I sexually identify as 

the guy drinking beer

and shooting off fireworks

in the shopping center parking lot;

my shoes are covered in dirt,

I like to step on big, colorful leaves; 

freeze dried strawberries;

Chicago Nik saving city rats from

dying in bus stop trash cans;

joseph smith golden tablets

but they’re next gen. phablets;


NSFW deviantART and hey STFU I love this part;

making crazy eyes at lil’ babies trapped in grocery carts;

image sent with invisible ink, “for you, my sweet ladybug;”

Apple and onion








direct-to-consumer brand growth; here come the woozies; caution when approaching new twirling intersections; “do u wanna round up and donate 39 cents to charity,” glow in the dark rubber zombie finger puppets; rush hour Chinese fire drill freaking out the surrounding carpool vans; John Denver plays on the stereo while your friend hangs her head out tha winder and sticks a fenger down her throat;

two three four one

that’s fun to say

two three four one


a woman walks into a sign, there is no woman,

the woman becomes the sign, the sign is the woman walking;

a man sits by a trash bag on the curb, there is no man,

the man becomes the trash bag on the curb,

the trash bag is the man sitting on the curb;


rolling out crumbly gluten-free dough,

body parts disintegrate like blue cheese,

“don’t tell me the distributor is running low on


arugula is just spinach but with a gay haircut;


what are you on about, “the new guy is being racismo again;” my friend Greg gets frustrated at work because his coworkers keep teasing him and calling him mariquita; stocking up on puberty blockers; i’m feet hurt, shut up i’m working; i’m scared to see what happens next, because 99% fail to answer this one simple question: do you remember Shit Pickle?


prep steaks for sauté;

prep overnight oats for brunch;


“boiling point for the unborn”

the Coke, Diet Coke, & Sprite Triforce;

leaving butter out to get a softer spread;



dig into my neck and you’ll find nothing but wires and cords;

“did you bring your pipe and flower with you, please say yes;”

”i love you i love you can i say that now or never (?)”


chalk circles drawn around pavement imperfections to let joggers and walkers know of their presence; spray-painted snowmen in the summer time, i wonder if my parents wanted to die all the time like i did; Opisthotonus in patient suffering from tetanus by Sir Charles Bell (1809); vhs tape unboxing videos and a simple solution for ED in 2023; grinding human bodies into indiscernible paste RIP fat larry your bbq will live forever; thinking about the absolute state of the world and remembering that you forgot to flush; finding the most common life-blood of the new millennium: incitement


quietly imitating your kid with

a squeaky Mike Tyson voice

when they’re being needy;

it’s 2am i have work in 6 hours;

skip ad, hold on a sec,

you won’t believe what happens next;

no i want the Star Wars chips no i want the Lebron James chips no i want the formula one racing car chips no i want the Muhammad Ali chips no i want the Gundam chips no i want the Mac DeMarco chips no i want the Naruto chips no i want the Transformers chips no i want the Master Chief chips no i want the Megan Thee Stallion chips no i want the Gordon Ramsay chips no i want the Antiracist Baby chips no i want the Iron Man chips no i want the Pee-wee Herman chips no i want the Pride Month chips no i want the Tao Lin chips no i want the Keyboard Cat chips no i want the Al-Qaeda chips no i want the Starship Enterprise chips no i want the Breast Cancer Awareness Month chips no i want the Dialectical Materialism chips no i want the Sonic the Hedgehog chips no i want the Last Will and Testament chips


window display full of disproportionate mannequins;

jeweler shop’s outdoor scrolling LED sign reads:

“wedding ring specials, congratualations eric and sam”


Morgenrede drinks cheap beer and plays pinball in and around the American Midsouth. He has recently published a book of poetry entitled ABUSER with Pig Roast Publishing.

Morgenrede is on X/Twitter @metadegenerate

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