Swooncake

Poetry is not a problem. There's a lot of terrible poetry. There's a lot of mediocre poetry. There's a lot of self-indulgent poetry. Occasionally there is poetry so good it knocks you flat on your ass. This is rare. The poetry problem is this. A poet writes a poetry collection, it gets some attention. The poet stands in front of a microphone with their face buried in the book or with an iPhone in their hand and reads poems from the book. There's no magic there's no fire there's just a human being reading words. People show up for poetry readings. They sit there and watch a poet read the poems into the microphone. And it's nothing. There's no danger no fire no blinding light. I don't go to poetry readings. I've been to a few. But I never made a habit of attending poetry readings. I never felt great about reading my poems into microphones. I always felt like something was missing. I'll be reading into a microphone in November but for the first ...

Saturn and Neptune in Pisces lulled the collective into a kind of trance. Visions of sugar plums danced through various skulls. La la la la la. Your divine masculine will contact you as soon as he's healed. He's going through a dark night of the soul but when he wakes up all rosy and refreshed in some new Eden (The Lovers card) he will get down on his knees and tell you that he loves you to Pluto and back. You are the only one. You are his queen, his goddess, his dream come true. Oh and if you're broke and don't have a pot to piss in, no problem. Just create a vision board, watch that terribly profound Earl Nightingale video at YouTube (lovingly digitized with much care and reverence by PeriscopeFilm) and mutter robotic affirmations (I am rich I am rich I am rich I am rich I am rich) as you sweep up cracker crumbs. BINGO. Baby, you're deeply loved and you are at least as rich as Kim Kardashian. The world is pretty much your oyster. Welcome to the banquet! Well, Nept...

Cole Robinson is onto something. You can do it dirty. You can do it clean. You can Dr. Seuss it. You can green juice it. You can lemon. You can pear. You can share on Instagram. You can Ham Lexington. You can Cougar Ketchup. You can Ginger Todger. You cannot Elon Musk. You cannot Kanye. When noise then bliss. If yours then this. Kiss the hand. Drive the truck. Luckier I get the hard work climb. Capricorn but no porn just telenovela. You are increasing. You might be missing something. This is the place. Your face is trending. Unfriending because dogs. Sensitive to ugly odors and filthy sounds. Only here for harmonic field. Warm it up, Chris.

The full moon in Scorpio falls in my third house because I have Virgo rising. I dreamed of a pitbull that was tearing up a room and dragging a smaller dead dog of some kind around. I will never understand why people buy that breed. Hatred is all I can think of. They hate themselves and life in general. They hate other people. Having a pitbull (or pitbulls because some assholes have more than one) is a big FUCK YOU to the world. People say, "Oh, it's the sweetest dog in the world! You just have to train it." Fuck you. I am feeling FUCK YOU right now. Happy Mother's Day unless you call yourself a "dog mom" because that's so stupid. Happy Mother's Day unless you own a pitbull or several pitbulls. You suck.  A big FUCK YOU also goes out to PersiscopeFilm for initiating the first copyright strike at my Ginger Todger channel. Greed will continue. Cunt bitchery will continue. I'm just over here creating like my ass is on fire. New poetry collection on ...

The results are in. I am cancer free. And I've lost about six pounds in five days. Gracias, Cole Robinson. Now I'm going to celebrate by shopping for cassettes. Life es bueno.

The sugar diet continues. Gracias, Cole Robinson. I've lost about five pounds in three days. Just got off the treadmill. Stayed on for 12:26. Will eventually work my way up to half an hour. And first installment of Gen X Radio Show is up at Ho Audio . Keepin' it real in the 210, yo. What's in your wallet?

 If you've got a drop of Capricorn in your chart, especially Capricorn rising or either of the luminaries (sun, moon) or any of the personal planets (Mercury, Mars, Venus), you are going to have to work. You are going to have to sweat. Nothing will be handed to you. You will never be satisfied sitting around binge watching "The Walking Dead" or playing GTA. You will not be happy living vicariously through other people. You are here to make it to the top of bitch ass mountain. No shortcuts, baby. Work it work it. End transmission.

 I just made a treadmill track . Brenda plus Dylan forever.  "I want more than your applause." Girlllll. Going to put on my socks and Nikes now and hit the treadmill located in my garage.

 I'm tracking my toothbrushes, the toothbrushes I ordered from the website that owns the fucking planet. I think it's important to buy toothbrushes in bulk. I'm scheduling my QHHT session. It's important to know where you came from. I'm shuffling tarot cards because there is money in PayPal. Tarot readings are cheaper and more enjoyable than therapy. Fire your therapist ASAP and hire me to read your cards. I come highly recommended. I have a monetized tarot channel. SIREN TAROT. I earned every cap. I have Mars in Capricorn. Mars is exalted in Capricorn. I have Mercury in Pisces where it does not belong. I'm a misfit. I'm out of step with this app crazy buy more be more do more so-called civilization. We aren't civilized. We're crazed animals. We shit on the people who love us most. We discard people like tampons and condoms. We talk about "soul contracts" like we know what the fuck that really means. We troll blogs and YouTube channels. We ...

 They never did bring out the bread sticks. I saw a big ass cockroach run from the kitchen. I'd run from there, too. Lots of dipshits in stupid caps bumbling around scratching their asses. I was hungry so I ate some jalapeno and pepperoni pizza. I ate several slices, as a matter of fact. Hell, I even ate some salad. I love the croutons and banana peppers. My boyfriend shot me a look from across the booth as he watched me wolf down the pizza. I'd just shown him a book I bought about getting off my ass, finally, and losing some weight. He brought me Ben & Jerry's Red Velvet Cake ice cream and I told him he had really bad timing. Well, when he shot me the look at Pizza Hut I said, "I have to do something with my mouth! I can't just sit here and be bored!" After dinner we bought a couple of lottery tickets because we have big plans (Fiji, a house in Corpus Christi, a yacht, matching Jaguars, a pet monkey, an acoustic guitar for him and a microphone for me.) Ba...

Drink black coffee. Smoke cigarettes. Snort speed. Hula hoop. Tap dance. Instead of Snickers and Twix…fiber bars! Instead of Whataburger milkshakes…protein shakes! Instead of Ben & Jerry’s Coffee Heath Bar Crunch…Great Value yogurt, any flavor you desire! Instead of Coca-Cola Classic or Dr. Pepper or Corona or Tecate…water! Instead of…oh fuck, maid is here to clean room. Bye.

I get asked that question a lot. There are several things wrong with me. Here is a handy list for future reference: 1. I suck. 2. I’m stupid. 3. I’m selfish. 4. I’m eternally twelve years old. 5. I’m a picky eater but not too goddamn picky. I am 30 pounds overweight. 6. I’m as fragile as an heirloom bone china tea cup. 7. I’m as hard as a brick wall. 8. I cannot figure out remedial math. 9. I cannot hold down an entry level job. 10. I’m broke. 11. I’ve got clumsy fingers. 12. I first ran away from home when I was three, on my tricycle. 13. I’m still running away from home. 14. I have no home. 15. I myself am hell. 16. I don’t miss my uterus. 17. I miss my son. I am not allowed to cry. 18. I wallow in the bed I made.

Last night I dreamed I was Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother. The details are vague. I just remember feeling so powerful and dignified in my wrinkles and jewels. Bitch, when I spoke, motherfuckers LISTENED. Charles, my grandson, was there. He was there with his lovely second wife. Camilla. There was no closet space. “Really, children. Your taste in sweaters is quite atrocious,” I might have remarked. I walked around what was supposed to be a palace, I assume, but it looked more like a crack house. Elizabeth Angela Marguerite Bowes-Lyon was a Leo. Fitting. Leo is the sign of royalty. Adolf Hitler described her as “the most dangerous woman in Europe.” My name is Misti Velvet Rainwater-Lites and I am an Aquarian. Fitting. Quite. I’m crazy, as you all know. I describe myself as a mermaid with dangerous hair and a turquoise tail that is forever slapping the names from the sand, wondering when I’ll grow my legs and walk up the mountain that I was born to climb.

Shit just got crazy, yo. For real, though. Seal passes a bucket of Mexican beer, says, "No, we're never gonna survive. Unless we get a little crazy." There's a baby's lost left foot in a rain puddle. David Lerner has reincarnated as a cheerleader in Ohio. "I'm, like, literally so much luckier this time around," he giggles. Bonfires of banned books and Satanic noise albums from Orlando to Dallas. Kendall Jenner is totally not talking to Rihanna. It's okay, girl.  We found love in a hopeless place, a landfill bulging with diapers, tampons, lipstick plastic and The Greatest Hits of Michael Bolton. Okay fine. Fer sure. Fer sure. Earth to Moon Unit, resplendent in peach regalia. A hard gale gonna blow. Geronimo wails from drunk dirty grave littered with the usual dollar store trash. Where's your AMERICAN SPIRIT??? Let's hear it for the original boy toy. Madonna has never looked better.

 It's 3:49 a.m. in San Antonio, Texas and I'm listening to another Moon Zappa interview at YouTube. Insomnia. I recently devoured Moon's memoir, Earth To Moon. I can't say that I recommend it but I'm glad I read it. Moon is a Libra with a Cancer moon. When I woke up a couple of hours ago I thought, "I should look at the transits of June 30, 2010." That was one of the most important days of my life and by "most important" I mean one of the worst. This day marked me. I will never fully recover. I'd like to. I'd love to. But Saturn in the tenth house tops my chart and I was born to teenage parents in rural Texas. I've got a Taurus MC. I am a realist. I went to astro.com and plugged in the data. It was a Wednesday. I was in a hotel room in San Francisco, California with a man I considered a soulmate. His name was Joe Pachinko. His books are still at Amazon. He has one video at YouTube. On this day he said goodbye to me. He ended our frie...

 It's 10:05 p.m. in San Antonio, Texas. I have a clay mask on my face. Soon I will bathe and get in bed with a stack of books. I'm listening to my latest video . I'm obsessed with creating videos and uploading them to YouTube. The process is addictive. Most of my videos are subliminals. You cannot hear my voice underneath all the layers of noise saying things like, "I have so much money it's ridiculous. I am energetic and healthy as hell. Money comes to me. It has no choice. Love. Yes. I am deeply loved. I am respected. I am valued." What will happen to me? What will happen to any of us? We get maybe a hundred years down here but that's pretty fucking rare. I'm not a materialist. I've never at any point been an atheist or even an agnostic. I was brainwashed with the usual Jesus noise in rural Texas. There's no escaping the Jesus noise if you were born in rural Texas in 1973. "Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine." Patti Smi...

 I'm writing. The psychic told me to write something, anything, daily. I am obeying. I woke up and cleared and cleaned the kitchen table. I recorded a pick a card reading for my monetized tarot channel, Siren Tarot. I drank the rest of the green smoothie that was in the fridge. I drank hot green tea. I ate two simple tacos. Flour tortillas. Refried beans from the can. Garlic salt. PACE picante sauce. Now I'm drinking a bottle of alkaline water from Costco. I have notebooks filled with words. Stream of consciousness. Rants. Rambles. Poems. Fiction. I get exhausted thinking about all the words. I have to put it all together, clean it up and publish a book. I have books at lulu.com and amazon. There are a few books I plan to revise. That's all for now. Lucky. Fortunate. Grateful. I am.