Friday, September 8, 2017

T, H, and E

A, B, C, D, E, F, G, The Whole Alphabet yes indeed.  Let's remember G was where we left off. H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, and P. Not now, But we all know P'ing is the best.  Q, R, and S, T, U, V, W, R, Shite, W, um...W, ...Just a minute.  No, way, no.  L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z.  Only numeric nuance deliberate.  L told A who knew also because B, C, and D heard from P.  P had known since F, but with difference from what E knew factually from the marvelous exaggerations of C and D, said P.  F really had never been all that clear however T, U, V, E, F, and G were verified witness to X, Y, and Z.  T, U, V, E, F, and G then felt little necessity to consider that there would be only 6 of 26. Considering they figured with at least some of them they mostly could.

Saturday, September 2, 2017

Syla Styrafoam bumped her way along numb of hurt having taken on a very undignified way of floating amongst us with prolifically provided possessions which burdened and ached with thunderous pain. Inflicted with such vulgarity that significant audience discuss allowance of no thorough detail. Permitted, Larry Dark was so furiously sickened that upon being lead to believe that her father was other than The Mark of Pain more significant than the illegal black stamp. The specific positioning was designed to be the greatest covered surface of a solid decimal if that were as significant as we could've allowed this amount of hurt, pity, angst, mutilation and suffering against one person that should durably be acknowledged as too painful.

Thursday, August 24, 2017

God does not divine. The threshold of knowing when enough was more than satisfactory, was mercilessly breached. Going through duration of purely expressed expletive laden lives has given me a cockeyed view of the gander that you set before me twenty-some-odd. Zero, ninety, eighty, and you wished seventy, but it was not in the operatically perceived minds of such cosmically dubious characters of lustrous amount of divinity candy which to me is a lot of fluff. Nuts. With or without. Did you know that ignorance is the most devastating factor anybody could be presented with in life. Though knowing too much is far more painful than the metastatic myriad diseases that are contagions and repercussions of the untended life. A spanning wing provides you with effort that pulls your wing wider. The intent for everyone where ever you are is to have had your wings pulled by grace. Guiding one another through life is always the responsibility but not the intention of goodness.

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Every morning

Crackers, hardtack, flour and water
The natural yeasts in the air
Wooden boxes,
Nails dusted over
Packed tight, twelve gross per
So far removed from hedonism
that aspirations
are only ever daydreams.
I wake in the morning
Lifting the bell to access the
fresh buttercream.
The mechanical beating
separating fat from protein;
cured meats.
Crackers, hardtack, flour and water.


Dear polyester, I just wanted to say how weird it is that the sky is the limit.  I am one hundred and five and you literally are the dust in my eyes.  You are such a daily component of life that your rubbing to wear degradation has now been such a persistent infiltrator of human biology that you are a component of every breath.  Your advancements to modern medicine have inspired such dyslexia, deformity and wrinkle free face, that we love you.  We can't live without you.  We can't live without you even if we tried.  We feed you to our food animals on purpose.  Your efficacy is immeasurable, you are designed by a manufacturer to be biologically toxic.  Love.  Your greatest influences are yet to be achieved.  I herald the day when your omnipresence in the human biology comes to fruition and becomes necessary like minerals.  We will be your polyester babies, enduring, within our very being, our own prophylactic eternal existence.  We won't decay, we will endure, mounding upon ourselves, slipping around one another in our polyester bodies; our cosmic undoing.

Thursday, February 5, 2015


Efforts plus.
Secret prayers skirt the dream
and direct anew a kindred unborn, because light
is measurable immensely.
Fragments of splattered grease only mean
that the penetration was sloppily attempted.
You're a broken bicycle chain
to a mechanically inclined hippie
with no tools.
Even if I were attempting to be
I'd be grit to your cogs.
Fore the forlorned twere
the utmost mostest of the desperate desperates.
A struggles fight just might bite
a hole in the clouds,
tearing a hole in the schismatic idea of Jesus.
Why is your orgasmic euphoria a euphemism
for tightly tubed toothpaste
that I expectedly and only desire
to expectorate down a drain
because a swirling drain is the specific depiction
that allows you to specifically draw my efforts from me.
With my cryingly or recidivist odious crippled humor
dill and cucumbers
do not make a pickle.

Chad Linder
02/04/2015 10pm

Thursday, January 1, 2015


It is, was, were and will always be a filthy place.
Please don't... try.
Pump me full of drugs and
things to remove my lucidity.
beat on me, use me and remove my facade
crumbled and crumpled on the ground
I cry so long that six feet tempts me.
And then I damn you to Hell for the hell you placed me in,
I curse you and you strike me and drug me and remove
my lucidity
Cast-offs, hand-me-downs, waters-under-the-bridge
bitter Spirit, the spirits burn... as one by one they go down.
Churning, they are burning.
My piece is my peace and your final resting place.
Indignant, you may know too much, but is...
there such thing.
I'm so old now, so lesser, a lesser being, beginning to reach towards my end.
No one remembers, except the dust in my filthy place
however, it has promised not to tell.

Written 11 pm -ish December 31, 2014.
Written by Chad Linder
In order for four-fourths of everything.