http://slow.writerscafe.org/Subterranean The original writings of author Subterannean en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775990529 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Say you follow in stores of conveniencedown aisles marked Deleuze,tip-toeing around black bodslaid rhizomatic and prim,as drawstrings pull and tightenaround your imaginaryuntil it spills into the streetbilious, in a blaze of skittlesand having plucked the low hung fruit, despite having, at last, upr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1734195/ This is my d***o. There are many like it, but this one is mine.My d***o is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.My d***o, without me, is useless. Without my d***o, I am useless. I must fire my d***o true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy who is trying to kill.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1714378/ First, the poem that begins: "Your hegemony is love,the kind whose toes I sometimes get to suck".Later, the poem we left dangling from the branches of  sycamore.After, as contractually obliged poem wherein trendy  signatory is finedfor hanging from the rim.Thus the poem as minor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1666111/ Un.George Costanza grew tired of lugging around his Zion filled suitcase so he ducked into the nearest restroom. When I found him, he was being haggled in the mirror. "Behold the schmuck!" the mirror screamed and having said all there is to say, the mirror didn't know what more to say. Then George .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1655720/ After a long hard day of America,my favorite thing to do is  open up my laptop -clickedy-click-click i gountil i've wronged all of my inalienable rights. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1600135/ Mood: Kanye Shrug, hence the problematic nature of being sprungfrom lesser flora,or the sounder logicsprawled in bloody Lorcaqua mi lengua inquietachasing love, delayknotted in loopsof wind.On arrival,varietal strangerdisguised as god leads meby the small of my backthrough doorsmarked &ldq.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1546710/ If not every flower eavesdropped upon on my bloom, then as playground mythopoesis.A game of tag-you're it,no takesies backsies,just good ol’ biophage.Market conditions ripefor global contusion,cellulite dimples madestatistical ideal.Sophia Loren's wrinkled user base,and alas, my revolutio.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1529432/ for "mab" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1497592/ On love denialism corners serving cellulite tabloidsand weekly Kardashians.On Pixar's morticians selling eyeballsfor the price of buttered popcorn.On Byzantium's filagreed altar wed unto its likeness; poop now or forever hold thy peace.On undulating stocks estimatedsomewhere in the negro t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1456463/ Tyler, the Creator and his dystopiancadre of Californian rappers are most assuredly a “f*****g walkingparadox”. Since they've kicked their Vans authentics through thedoor of mainstream America with a bevy of self produced and selfreleased mixtapes, and the now iconic “Yonk.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1340497/ Do you meet me at uncooked center, to brain seared medium-well?unto violets smoldered cerebral,red against inquisitive steelAt tomato discourse served in egalitarian dress, coiffured,until the mastiff salivates, hungered for intolerable flavor.The f****t conglomerate, pi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1321214/ Who begat this smooch,this peck, this crack piped kiss,the jangled keys to menopause.Detroits' inner thighs housing phantasmic mortgages.Who begat gun barrel suckled conception-n****e America,Lothario's charming comb, the revolutionist' rusted beard,Gil Scott Heron sung wil.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1313543/ “O, Generation revered above all others. O, generation of fictitious Ofays I revere you... You are all so beautiful” -Imamu Amiri Baraka, Hymn for LaniePoohStill?  Still purse clutched, wallet groped, car door locked ad infinitum, toward neurotic borough re.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1209416/ Sunlight rolls out of bed, cosmos coo-coo for its Cocoa Puffs,my pockets chewedfor metallurgic breakfast.I'm tall caramel macchiato-cream, two sugars.Scratching my five o'clock,as birds proselytize around ten.crying jubilant vernaltears; gesundheit.Sidewalk eros, mo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1186382/ a gaping a*****e full of intermittent farts and all the smelly profundities between. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1169874/ I.Ossified underPontius Pilate, my ruminations  erodingby the corpuscle,steering one-handed down interstate highways that gurgle thelength of terrestrial concern. II.Congratulatorysips taken by half-mad dingbats who roll their souls in the dirtjust to arisepurifie.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1165273/ As a ravaged eye, pluckedfrom occidental tree.Wormsprotrude out of the soilunder thefalsest pretense.Fidgetytooth.quiveringc**t'.solicitouslegtricklingpiss.innate blackpreceding bone-light.This, a horticulture of things, uneasy, ungrowing. Mirth,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1124479/ Steel city, mad city,regal Appalachia,blue collared Gotham,God's own sniffling, omnipotent damp,poets absorbedby coffee shops,tomato conglomerate, condensed Warhol,expatriated Stein,a river is a river is a river-six-Lombardi city,Hill District of yore,jazz spilled rhythmicall.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1108552/ Poem http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1054237/  "cras amet qui nunquiam amavit;quiquie amavit cras amet"Oh, unfinished night,her silky moon crystallizedbetween liminal spaces.Oh, sweet perambulating light,find me most reprobateogling cerulean curves(darkly, luxuriantly, vangloriously),eyes sunken to your lambent bosom,as dew.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/1004754/ You practicedbreath strokesat the shallowend ofsentimentalityyour marrowed arms,jive,wrapped in depreciativeorangeAn iconographysubmerged, drownedin aqueousapoplexyAnd what was swimmingthen, but the tenacity ofyour flailing little limbs?you heard t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/960901/ I walked into thehipster partyand found three orfour hipsterstalking together inhiptalk.I tried to befriendly but heardmyself talking toone in blacktalk.“How are you?”one interrogated.She bore anunmemorableProtestant name.She informed me th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/953810/ BluesodyTo whom it may concernI've forgotten the inculcationof the blues,deafened toAshanti palms chantingancient syncopationdown the river Densu. Boogie woogiemisplaced,  plopped into a gumbo of ostentation.Tongue numbed to greasyempiricism: hogmaws.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/949783/ “It is in our national interest to give the Horatio Alger Myth a rest, for it broadcasts a fourthMessage no less false than the first three-that we live in a land of unlimited potential.Although that belief may have served us well in the past, we live today in an era of diminish.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/925388/ A crayfish drifts inconclusivelyon the head of the sea,empyrean in its slumberwealthy are its dreamsIts shell a warm sangriathe sea takes its toast,to translucent exoskeletonsand the waves trotting afloat The suspended eye blinksgingerly towards cyclic wavescarousing to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/925266/ BluesodyI.Towhom it may concern I've forgotten the inculcationofthe blues, deafened to Ashanti palms chanting ancient syncopationdownthe river Densu. Boogie woogie misplaced,  plopped intoa gumbo of ostentation. Tongue numbed to greasyempir.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/897405/ He and She exchanged salutationsin a maelstrom of alacrityHe and She exchanged irises in an oscillation of electronsHe and She exchanged smilesin a parade of enamelHe and She exchanged laughterpropagating sound wavesthrough the silver lacquerof the humid summer nightHe and She di.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/894384/ Bojangles(A Forlorn Caricature) Somewhere deep in the margins....deep in the margins.... It strikes me as peculiar,the way the blacks,as if genetically predisposed,gravitate toward the backof the bus.and how on that very same bus,i sit beside a poor black schizophreni.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/867722/ Her dress was  the color of American rebellion.  She was a real suburbanite angel, with wings made from the feathers of trust funds and wholesome xenophobia. Her pupils shone a sky blue ideology of hedonism at their cores. Her unconversant mind was fixated upon musings of the self, as.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/795401/ Bathe ostentatiouslymaking sure to washthe unkempt n****r out.Institutionalize behindthe ears assimilateto the sudsscrub the lingeringchicken grease.Rub-a-dub-dub. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/791037/ Somewhere deep in the margins....deep in the margins....It strikes me as peculiar,the way the blacks,as if genetically predisposed,gravitate toward the back of the bus.and how on that very same bus,i sit beside a poor black schizophrenic bumreading the newspaper upside down aloudand i can hear his s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/694142/ The floor is anindicationof ourgeneration’s pestilence and the air is hotand heavy with the smell of incendiary nicotine and collegiate pheromonesAlpha Male MasturBetaPhi SigmaDegrada Statutory GammaMisogynist Omegais the name ofthe pla.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/677276/ First the god caps were birthed andprotruded from the wealthy soiland with a glass of OJ,I ate them.atop bulbous chunks of green hillside, I watched the dissolution of night and day.  The blues and greens alludingto the ancient constellations&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/672988/ I helped murder little Emmett Till,gouged the unaccounted eye out,castrated his plump carcassand sank the flaccid Negro corpse along the depths of the Tallatchiein the name of all that is white,and therefore sacrosanct.With cross hairs alignedI held my breath, before I pul.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/664895/ southern fried prophetJim Crowe law God.She served hot plates of sweet potato soul and barbecued bluesfatigued Negro hands cooked self evident truths in the kitchenemancipation salted and brewed over the stove.salvation was served for dinner:  corn bread, mashed potatoes,  deep f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Subterranean/664728/