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more machek on line |
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Posted by : stosh on Wednesday, March 12, 2008 - 01:45 AM PST |
here's some of the latest stosh:
*santos de la maquina del gumball
(gumball machine saints)*
at the computer store
w/ the retro, 50’s sci-fi, ‘aliens-have-landed’ decorating motif,
he was almost out the door
when he was ambushed by a bank of impulse buy
bubble-gum machines
...here was the usual fake-ass grape, & sour apple jaw breakers,
some knock-off skittles, ironic counterfeit bling,
& cheap chinese superballs,
but, one machine on the end, grabbed him
...on a backdrop of lurid icon colors,
stone black O.G. tattoo script reads;
‘SANTOS’
...& there they were:
the gumball machine saints
...a display of a dozen, mexican-flavored-catholic saints
...waiting patiently in their plastic bubbles,
for him to go thru his pockets
& find his quarters
...he noted that they were about as big as bullets,
& badly painted,
...as he stuck the coins in the slots, & turned the crank,
he thought of those who never took refuge, or sought salvation
from the blood of spear wounds collected in grails
& turned into wine & back to blood again,
those who only ever looked upon sculpted rugged crosses,
& sunshine blasting halos thru stained glass,
while seeking explanations the brain wouldn’t choke on,
& he thought;
‘50cents a saint,
seems reasonable’
...so he got 2
...then walking thru the electric door, juggling his change,
his purchases, & his newly bought injection molded relics,
he dropped a dime,
& it rolled synchronisticaly across the sidewalk,
& stopped in front of a brother all dressed in white,
w/ a clerical collar,
collecting for the choir;
spare change in a can
...& he let slip out loud;
‘well, if that ain’t a sign from above...’
...& becuz the brother heard him, he felt he hadda
put a penitent dollar in the can for his irreverence,
which he did, becuz of, & in spite of those
truths,
the ones which we can take a bite of, & also those, that,
like church bells, resonate long after we stop hearing,
...long after we’ve stopped listening
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260 Reads |
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*stosh machek poetry broadcasts on webRadio* |
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Posted by : stosh on Monday, December 10, 2007 - 07:36 AM PST |
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here are 2 places you can go to hear, (my), poetry on the web. these shows were broadcast live on web radio & are now archived for your enjoyment at your convenience.
the 1st one is from the friendly folks @ killRadio. the ultra-smooth james maverick interviewed the lovely & loveable theresa & myself back in aug. ’07, on his show; ‘Higher Ground’, & we regaled him & his listeners w/our poetry & opinions
killRadio
the 2nd archived webCast was from rafael alvarado’s ‘moe green poetry hour’ show broadcast dec. 6th ’07, & besides myself & others it features the very heavy & righteous denis cruz ...give a lissin as we show that poetry can be tuff as well as tender
moe green
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564 Reads |
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*matrix this* |
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Posted by : stosh on Wednesday, September 05, 2007 - 04:15 PM PST |
if one presupposes that our technology will get better & better,
& that with that,
our ability to construct
& run more & more sophisticated computer simulations,
particularly simulations of human history,
will increase expedientialy,
it becomes mathematically
& logically more & more probable
that we are all ‘living in a simulation'
at this moment
...in fact, the director of the ‘future of humanity institute’
at oxford university,
professor of philosophy dr. nick bostrom,
is of the personal,
‘gut feeling’ opinion,
that there is a 20% probability
that this is so
...i don’t know about you,
but this notion gives me a sort of
‘virtual comfort’
clik here to be freeked out further
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825 Reads |
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*fireSeason* |
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Posted by : stosh on Monday, June 18, 2007 - 04:42 PM PST |
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*fire season*
the chessman are all set up to lose another game,
you’re compassionate, & you’re beautiful, now; shut up
…the fire in the hills has died down,
& i want to sweep all the pieces from the board
…you’re compassionate, & you’re beautiful, now; shut up
not even blood could make it right,
& i want to sweep all the pieces from the board,
let’s see who the craftiest mother fukker in the room is
…not even blood could make it right,
800 acres of embers smolder
…let’s see who the craftiest mother fukker in the room is,
the weight of the sky is upon me
…800 acres of embers smolder,
even pain is not enough; everything’s less than it should be
…the weight of the sky is upon me
…lay me down among the blackened trees; food for the coyotes
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916 Reads |
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*the late early bird* |
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Posted by : stosh on Friday, April 27, 2007 - 09:13 PM PST |
a few hours after dawn,
a small bird, w/ grey wings, head & back,
& a bright yellow-green breast
lay quite dead
on the cold cement of the courtyard;
its arrival there, a mystery
…its fragile, perfect, beauty
moved me to project a sense
of affronted dignity upon it
& i was seized w/ a desire to cover it w/ a sheet,
& begin an investigation into the particulars
of its demise,
prior to a decent & proper burial
…instead,
because of the circumstance under which i had found it,
(while working an overnight shift as a security guard
in the public courtyard of a complex containing
a 24 hour health club, a multi-plex cinema,
& their attendant parking structure),
i opted for scooping it up w/ a postcard
advertising an indian film festival,
& placing it gingerly in one of the
over-designed stainless-steel trashcans
..& hoping
that it would’ve done the same
for me
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796 Reads |
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busy devil |
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Posted by : stosh on Wednesday, February 07, 2007 - 02:25 AM PST |
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*busy devil*
the devilrides a red bicycle in mexico city,
goat ears hear kidnapped broken bones poke internal organs
…he steers a yellow cab thru manhattan,
sees hungry children crying
…the devil
drifts a black BMW thru beverly hills,
long, black, forked tounge tastes cordite
…he rides in the bed of a camouflaged toyota pick-up in sierra leone,
standing up to his ankles in spent brass
…the devil
rides a donkey in sarajevo,
canine olfactory nerves sense blood
…he flies a helicopter over bogata,
pondering ancient arrowheads that won’t stay buried
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1158 Reads |
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**friday @ the studio** |
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Posted by : stosh on Wednesday, February 07, 2007 - 02:19 AM PST |
*friday @ the studio*
sitting under a sloppy watercolor
painted by a man who made a fortune
selling himself as the anti-christ to iowans,
& laughing up his sleeve
…friday @ the studio;
an afternoon of chess problems &
platinum records amid the orchids
…‘horrorCrashPuzzle’ are on the mix box
they have mean little mean tunes
w/ chix reading bible verses
somewhere around where radioHead collides w/ tom waits
…they’re harsh like a 3-penny opera trolly car rattling
down tracks laid by a blairWitch live-feed horror show
…there’s tea & honey on a tray atop the fender-rhodes,
& lyrix sneered thru pro-tools
while i scribble
* * * * * * *
...donde esta el studio?
barrygoldberg.biz
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1092 Reads |
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*crossings* |
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Posted by : stosh on Friday, October 13, 2006 - 11:29 PM PST |
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on a grey pasadena monday
morning i'm sitting on a sidewalk
bench, when here comes a man who
didnt sleep anywhere paticular
last nite, or the nite before
...filthy clothes, matted beard,
w/burning holy man stare he looks
down at the sidewalk where, for
reasons of their own, city workers
have spray-painted a cross ...it
is some sort of public works
hyrogliphic but it seems that this
man sees something else ...he
pauses, tracing the cross in the
air w/ his rough hand, then looks
up, feeling the weight of my eyes
upon him ...i nod my head slightly,
meeting his gaze ...he walks past
me then stops, turns, & earnestly
intones: 'if theres any doubt
that there is a god, all you have
to do is look around at all -this-'
he gestures vaugely at the city, at
the sky, & beyond, '-this- is all
heaven ...any where there is a moon
& stars is heaven ...we are all the
family of god ...there is no hell but
the one we carry here' & he points to
his chest, as if he were pointing to my
chest, as if he were pointing to all
the human chests everywhere ...i do
my best to wordlessly convey to him
that i am listening & hearing, balancing
my interest w/ caution the way one does
w/ strangers ...he nods to me & walks
away ...i look down at the sidewalk &
notice 2 ants approaching each other from
opposite directions ...they are walking
one of those paths that only ants can
sense ...they come together face-to-face
in their insect encounter, & i imagine
the antennea too small for me to see
bending & whirling, feelers feeling,
sparks going off in minute nervous
systems ...then, apparently satisfied,
they part, each one moving along the path
the other had walked, but now moving away
from each other, having exchanged whatever
gifts they had to on this morning
...the sun begins to burn thru the cloud
cover
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913 Reads |
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*smoking monkey w/a fez on* original 1 of a kind stosh machek art/poetry book placed in soCal's 'Beyond Baroque' archives |
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Posted by : stosh on Wednesday, September 20, 2006 - 12:57 AM PST |
found some paper at my friend philip's house, made a book out of it that has a bunch of my poems & pictures i drew of smoking monkeys wearing fezes ...philip said i should sell it ...i told him he was nuts, that nobody would buy it ...he dared me to put an internet ad up for it to see if ppl would bid for it ... here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V-faS3HjGh8 r.l. of poeticSuperHiway then cooked up a scheme wherein he envisioned members of the soCal poetry community pitching in $$ to buy the book so that it could be turned over to the 'beyond baroque' archives [as per a.f.'s idea expressed at the cobalt tues. nite, 9/19}: rick l. amassed over $200 in collective bids to buy the 'book' & have it installed in the beyond baroque archives! ...now i know how proud dr. frankenstein mustve felt! ...of course i never saw any of the $$, becuz i owe philip[ so much i turned it over to him
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1008 Reads |
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