In a decaying society, art, if it is truthful, must also reflect decay.

And, unless it wants to break faith with its social function, art must show the world as changeable, and help to change it. -Ernst Fischer "Jesus was a black man, no Jesus was the Batman, oh wait, that was Bruce Wayne." -Shaun Ryder "Faith is the great cop-out, the great excuse to evade the need to think and evaluate evidence. Faith is belief in spite of, even perhaps because of, the lack of evidence." -Richard Dawkins "Reality is what you can get away with" Robert Anton Wilson "Nothing is true. Everything is permitted." -Hassan I Sabbah "Lets have some fun this beat is sick..." -Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta

Hallucinating Arkansas

Timothy Bowen

cc 2011 Timothy Bowen

Hallucinating Arkansas is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Share-alike 2.0 license

ISBN-13: 978-1461172390 ISBN-10: 146117239X

Published by Timothy Bowen and Thomas Bryan McSweeny Edited by W. Ryan Bufford and Rachel Doyle

Tiny text is hard to read huh?

First Printing - 2011

OTHER TITLES BY TIMOTHY BOWEN From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair Voices of Chaos Jonesboria Discordia

PLEASE REQUEST THESE BOOKS IN YOUR LOCAL LIBRARY Official Blog: http://popetimothybowen.blogspot.com/ Fanpage: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Timothy-Bowen/172138416174586

Manufactured in the United States of America

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This is my weapon to hurt the wars

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Hallucinating Arkansas
Future Headlines Hey! Guess What!?! The Audacity of Freedom Thanks for the Cravings The Stunning Plight of Space Turtle Fucking About Fuck WARNING: I May Not Be Me Roadside Improvement Snotty Starjammer To Hell With Logic and Reasoning! dreams from last night People Sing About Me Love Me And Buy My Smokes Please Sloth is the Slut Our Clown Shaking Luther King Our Clown Scene Two lad at the fit harvest An Olympic Parable Food Preferences Love Poems and Women An Open Letter to America Theres something about K-Pop Proud to be Bavarian Say It Out Loud Afterglow The Quantum Scratches Cement The Trouble with Fembots Attacking Hope Survival Garden Inevitable Endings The Bright and Shining Stars The Bitter Kiss of Moloch Customary Economics We Rise Utopia Lullaby

Hallucinating Arkansas

Hallucinating Arkansas
I'm sick of Arkansas being portrayed in patronizing ways dumb back streets and dry hump ghost towns spoiled southern belles smoking a crack pipe I won't do that. I love you Arkansas I love your lazy I love your crazy I love how you beat me I want you to fuck me, Arkansas I want your cock in my mouth your swamp on my chest West Memphis in my nose holes forests in my ass i want to grope your hills and mountains piss your rivers on my face, and let it run down your plains into your caves your earthquakes up my spine let your strong winds carry me away to your dry county rape parties filled with blow job baby dolls give me your rice field meth labs and black eyed beauties give me your wiener let me polish your bald knob finger fuck your grubbs and goobers flick my tongue all over your possum grape I hold no pity or disgust for your slutty fat girls your old men paying to suck my dick your innocent, pretty love run your witches out of down town let your meth head judges send me to your filthy jails let your children shoot your guns and hold up in your sun down towns

Timothy Bowen
I still crave you I desire you Arkansas I can't run too far from you no matter how hard I try and I try and I try and I try Alaska holds no candle to you frantic gropes to underage Eskimos in crowded crack filled hotel rooms hitch hiking in swarms of mosquitoes bus station beat downs on old women drinking drinking puking smashing heads bullet holes on all the road signs breathless in the last frontier on top of the world i crave you Arkansas Colorado may stand taller than you needles in the streets of tiny magic doll house towns hippies and dippies and sex in the van empty beer bottles filled with used needles gallons of luke warm water so there's something to puke soap opera parks and soup kitchens and neo Nazi bullies I don't need you to be tall, Arkansas I will slouch for you I will bend over for you I will bow down on all fours I open my mouth I don't crave Illinois I forsake my birth my first birth the ovaltine factory ruins the hedge maze play dates the trailer park dungeons and dragons the meaningless and impotent virginal crushes misfit vandalism and outcast bonding where nothing changes and we still love the cubs and dirt weed and old style

Hallucinating Arkansas
still looking down on Wisconsin poor pathetic Wisconsin I give it all back here's your Lincoln. here's your Obama you burn down all my old houses Arkansas you baptize my past with fire my piss and fire Illinois rain dances my Illinois reunions my Illinois reruns my Illinois girls that got away my Illinois boys I'll never taste calling out my vomit like babe ruth hiding under an orange stool in my grandparent's kitchen my sick and fake first kiss I forsake my pill bottle cry for attention goat whores of Louisiana I'll keep hiding from my warrants for unlawful dancing in Missouri I'll try not to cheat on you again with Oklahoma perfect nimble Oklahoma breasts covered in food Brilliant, dreadlocked Oklahoma cocksmen delighting me with small talk until the dawn excited to be too drunk to drive to Oklahoma for no reason sleeping in the Oklahoma camps at Arkansas gatherings lusting to be OK to be with Oklahoma I will ignore my craving for Virginia's large breasts and great ass and excellent taste in media Virginia's brilliant boy scouts who defy to overflow oh Arkansas, I can forget how much weight is lost in Boston and how perfectly we clicked

Timothy Bowen
I will not be tempted by tax free shopping in Delaware or soul-mates of Wilmington I won't ask for visitation rights to Tennessee I can miss another Memphis in May I can forget the peddlers on Beale the flips and hoops and cart wheels the willing and eager whores the cheap heroin and cheaper murder Three Six Mafia orange mound sippin sizzurp with the thugs watching lemon heads shoot up in new daisy's back stage cheering cheering packed in crowded clubs greyhound horror. Peabody parties I ask you Arkansas to forgive my failures of Vermont Absolve my crushing defeat of New Mexico Look past my wanderings in Washington and Idaho My kidney stones of Portland take pity on my fear of California and infatuation with New York make sure Canada forbids me entry keep me only joking about Mexico fan my hatred of Texas keep me sheltered and land locked keep the oceans at their bays I won't run from your summers Arkansas I won't hide from your starting quarterback meth cook warlocks of your baptist churches I will can-toke in Ridgepoint I will take the cup you offer me even if I can't see you mix it next time we fuck I will call you the next day next time you give me an obvious opening I will steal your Arkansas kisses next time we date I will be passionate without being desperate or creepy

Hallucinating Arkansas
next time I suck your cock I will swallow all of your Arkansas next time I'm in the cunt of Arkansas I will not prematurely ejaculate with my tiny lincoln log no I will last hours with my reborn Arkansas cock and ball honesty my pea-cocking Arkansas fetishes of feet and piss and Asians and school girls and piles of cock I don't want to couch surf away from you I want to couch host in you I want to give guided tours of Hot Springs the sin city of the south I want to re-open your bath houses I want to advertise your brothels I want to direct the sequel to Bangin in Little Rock restart the segregation riots start a new communist revolution in the birthplace of ACORN I want to birth another exciting house show scene in Jonesboro and watch it dissolve again from petty bickering I want to get a civil union in Eureka Springs and smoke it's decriminalized weed only to tear down the statue of jesus like sadam's in Iraq I want to date rape every Dugger in Fayetteville every one who's name starts with the letter J I want to eat the dirt Johnny Cash was born on I want to piss on Clinton's boyhood home you take me as I am Arkansas you take my shrivelled fat white boy bad posture dry cum stained cock you take my under-wiped and willing asshole

Timothy Bowen
my man boobs gaped teeth body odor you take my Arkansas vanity my Arkansas paranoia my Arkansas superstition self loathing suicidal Arkansas thoughts we are flawed and majestic and misunderstood together Arkansas we are statutory inter-racial gay married under Jewish cemetery stars we embalm we talk down we use each other in desperate sweaty revenge one night stands my next tattoo will be your outline Arkansas my next book will be this love letter to you Arkansas my next job will be screaming your name my next protest will be for Arkansas secession my next spell cast will be for Arkansas supremacy Can I sail away on a ship the shape of Arkansas? Can we sing the battle hymn of Arkansas? Family Tradition Can I smoke only home grown Arkansan? Hog's Breath Can I only swim in Arkansas quarries? First mushroom trips Fishing like grizzly bears? Get nasty with Arkansas whores and dry grope the nice girls of Arkansas? Can I only be penetrated by Arkansas cock? tour the Arkansas circuit? ride the Arkansas wave? project only Arkansas vibe? suffer only Arkansas bipolar dissociative disorders? take only Arkansas beat downs? give beat downs back dirty south Arkansas style unique?

Hallucinating Arkansas
Arkadelphia slam. Texarkana bam. When I die again can I be buried in Arkansas? Next to my grandma and Xander and Dee and David Ray and Josh Cliff and the Knights Pythias and my Arkansas regrets? Come find me in Arkansas I'll be with my much admired mother hear my joke about being from Holly Wood I'll be with my dad who's from Arkansas hippy shaman dad who named me after Tim Leary I'm here in Arkansas with my younger brothers home schooled in Arkansas finding themselves in Arkansas becoming men in Arkansas making me proud in Arkansas I'm with you in Arkansas, my older brother Bob Bob from Twin Peaks Bob Dobbs Bob Wilson Bob Shea Planet Bob The legend of Jonesboro Bob Bob who I steal clothes from Bob who I steal girls from Bob who I steal cigarettes from Here in Arkansas where my family worries less about me Here in Arkansas where my family enables me bails me out. keeps me company Tries their hardest to understand me Loves me regardless Keeps me coming back to Arkansas I'm a boss in Arkansas people throw me best boss ever surprise parties like a boss I'm a rock star in Arkansas people sing along at my shows and own all my albums I'm a Pope in Arkansas people joined my church of Y'all I'm a celebrated author in Arkansas people keep my books on their shelves

Timothy Bowen
I am the patron saint of Arkansas I took Blanche Lincoln's senate seat away from her I am the cocksman of Arkansas I am Emperor Timothy Norton, Protector of Mexico and God-King of Arkansas I am the queen of the Arkansas queers I am the bottom bitch of Arkansas whores I am the Arkansas failure college drop out loser guru I am the inside joke I'm still on your mind and I made an impact Arkansas Ginsberg Arkansas Hafiz Arkansas Bukowski Arkansas Dada I'm lost in Arkansas I'm found in Arkansas filthy thoughts Arkansas sloppy grabbing drunk Arkansas dynamic as all things changing and growing and rotting and evolving and rebuilding Arkansas will I ever expel the demon of Arkansas upside down cross flag Freemason curses? will I ever fall recklessly in first real soul touch Arkansas love? Craighead walks and grave yard blow-jobs and skipping school home video parody rhapsody? painful Arkansas bitter Arkansas the darkest sleepless Arkansas nights and forceful wet dream Arkansas wanting to hide from it all blow up Arkansas and shoot until I run out of bullets how do you like me now Arkansas? bang bang Arkansas fuck you youre the worst state ever, Arkansas free the West Memphis Three, Arkansas I cant help you if you wont get naked

Hallucinating Arkansas
Arkansas Naked unjust Arkansas Naked unfair Arkansas Naked without pro foot ball Naked like Hillarys shame Naked with your ongoing incest and ongoing hangings Naked with your STD capitals bare, exposed Arkansas I have to have you like this I cant just love your pretty face I have to love you stretch mark naked scars and bars naked too fat or too skinny naked behind the make up Arkansas birth marks Arkansas bags under eyes cellulose on your thighs gutted buildings filled with homeless the given up naked and unloved Arkansas molested run away Arkansas holy holy naked Arkansas bring back your smoking sections Arkansas I miss your late night Perkins freak show friend meetings smoke and coffee on a school night bring back your misty nights Arkansas I miss the long walks and illogical talks heads in the clouds bring back my teenage Arkansas optimism True Arkansas Hedonism Craighead County Thrash Core White kids playing electro pop in Rays Boom Boom Room Epic bombastity opening for Kimya Dawson

Timothy Bowen
the feeling of knowing Justin Clifford Rhody is coming back to town warm Arkansas memories groups of friends coming together for the show bring me all the flyers we made the magical nights bring back Dream Stomper, Brides of Christ, Bernstein Band, 87 Yota, LVRS/HTRS, Hellcake, The Light, Guitar Throb Arkansas Arkansas where Ill always remember the green house on the corner the hide out in the woods by the train tracks the nights we fucked in public the lower level entrance to the library the inside/outside tables in Wilson Hall the pool outside the student housing the back row of the Christmas parade under my trench coat and the pavilion by the lake with the turtle in it that time we tag teamed that sexy black girl in the back yard all under the same Arkansas sky the stars over Arkansas who have recordings of me in oh so many incriminating situations our stars our Arkansas stars shadow people bad trip Arkansas stars fish at my feet on dry ground colored lights Arkansas stars bored lonely looking at the sky so fuck toilet titties Alabama hung betrayal and keep your shuggoths Rhode Island noise bands dark armies in Maine seriously fuck the Carolinas the Dakotas and West Virginia

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Hallucinating Arkansas
Im sorry Nebraska but I dont like bright eyes enough to bother Kansas can fuck right off with that store we got caught grazing in Kentucky youre cool I guess I would not mind going back to Iowa As for the rest Im in no way affected in any way no thoughts no opinions Hawaii Im curious about but honestly, Arkansas, Id like to drop some real talk before we go any further I would leave you in a heartbeat for a one way ticket anywhere outside the Americas but dont worry Arkansas Im poor and my mother worries Im not going anywhere soon Im sick of drugs being misrepresented Im sick of addicts being portrayed in patronizing ways I dont want to sit in a room full of people congratulating themselves for the jacked up on coffee and nicotine sobriety they are so proud of dont tell me any human is powerless or statically unchanging or defined by a habit Im sick of punishment and isolation in the place where rehabilitation and job training belong Im sick of anyone ever being called mentally ill like insanity is some permanent state instead of something that comes and goes in all of us like sadness and rapture and boners and lovers

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and Arkansas Im sick of living people trying to tell me about the afterlife like virgins describing sex I have died and I went to Arkansas and as far as Im concerned everyone goes to Arkansas when they die as well no Mormon can tell me Eden was in Missouri they are wrong fuck Joseph Smith Eden was and still is in Arkansas so is Egypt and England and Paris and Palestine and alien radio voodoo towers and the coolest wizard Ive ever met and cabals of maniac tricksters and people who look great wearing shades experts at giving hugs the living embodiments of wikipedia and IMDB all here all in Arkansas I hate that one of the only portrayal of homosexuals that isnt patronizing was on the Sarah Silverman Program but hey its progress better than nothing better than what Arkansas has decide on something better choose an awesome Arkansas remade in our image our new football team can be the Arkansas Cock Lazers and well punish our players for not celebrating enough our new state bird can be Hawkman state flower the poppy plant state song Raining Blood we can elect Dwight David Honneycut as Governor we can outlaw churches and banks and turn all the unused buildings into even more buffets

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Hallucinating Arkansas
an awesome Arkansas our Arkansas I wont write poetry I will write Arkansan Broetry I will start a secret society of Broets who write from the gut naked Broems with our cocks singing our bro-hymns trying to one up each other and see who can say the word cocksman the most in our epic Broems summoning Cockgod like chanting candyman in the mirror Im four duding in Arkansas I am the fourth dude Bro Jesus homeless wandering liar prophet this being my only possession this long rant this cry for help I stand before Arkansas this mad naked Broet no phone no car no job no horse no wife no mustache one dude one lonely dude lonely for Arkansas begging for Arkansas I saw all of you for who you are the beautiful unique radiant creatures it killed me that I could not show you that I could find no way to express the amazing blinding love and acceptance without coming across as a fake or wanting something from you so I shut down again and you thought I was being shady but your beauty is frightening and of course I was afraid yet arent fear and love the same? awful or awesome are just awe shock and awe

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my reaction to your faces shocking awesome faces I could never forget you I will always forgive you your mark is eternal even if you never see it yourself or no one else ever sees it in you know that I saw it know that it changed me please finally understand that I love you

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Hallucinating Arkansas

Future Headlines
Zero point energy bomb dropped - wirelessly charging all technology indefinitely. Free global wireless broadband bomb also dropped that provides free, endless, high speed Internet to any device that wirelessly connects to the Internet. Humanity collectively says suck it to Big Oil CEOs. Protesters around the globe suddenly realize all of their devices are charged for free by zero point energy bomb, and that all of their devices are connected by the free global broadband bomb, and begin sharing videos of victory at alarming rates. Rich people formerly known as the global elite start killing themselves as they are faced with the reality that their careers are suddenly rendered moot. With all devices charged for free forever by the Zero Point Bomb and connected for free forever by the Global Broadband Bomb, humanity starts collecting all weapons and melting them to harvest the base metals to be used to build new cities. Massive global music and sex festivals planned. Global governments suddenly realize punishing humans for addictive behavior is in itself destructive behavior and start offering free therapy and rehab in place of punishment. The Revolution becomes sexual Polygamy becomes legal, prompting The Mormon Church to give up on their childish persecution of homosexuals, effectively silencing all anti-gay propaganda campaigns. Remaining Oil is Pumped Back Into Earth To Prevent Further Disaster

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Timothy Bowen

HEY! GUESS WHAT!?!

Do you realize what you are really doing when you label another human being? Sure, I've done it a few times in my life, and I'm sure you have too. You see some guy with a confederate flag trucker hat on over his mullet, and you think "redneck," or "looser," or "asshole." (Unless, of course you subjectively agree with such things, in which case the label might change to "patriot" or "buddy"). What you're really doing is propagating a cycle of suffering, for yourself and everyone else you come in contact with. You see, that person is nothing more than a human; one who by all rights is doing what he/she feels is the best thing to do, or what's right, according to their upbringing, and what the universe has subjectively inflicted upon them. The person who has been bothering you most lately most likely is completely ignorant to the suffering you're going through. The few encounters you have had with this person are but a small fraction of their entire lives, including their past, and future; which are things that you will never fully know or understand during your time on earth. By labeling them you have now mythologized them into something not human, and will base your future encounters with them on your own subjective and flawed human perceptions. This will cause you to suffer when they don't act according to your label, and this suffering will spread. It's happening right now. That last person you decided was a "bum" or a "loser" has become part of your twisted personal mythology as such, and these labels are pulling you further and further away from the oneness that we all are. Your forced separation with the eternal will continue and grow the more you wear your shades of ignorance in place of viewing each living human being as holy and part of yourself. Have a great day.

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The Audacity of Freedom

- Part One
Freedom is such a strange concept these days. This country is so insane. On September 11, 2001 a grossly unreasonable amount of lives were lost. Whoever did it is still at large. The citizens of a neighboring country, that has now been proven to have no connection to the attacks, are now under U.S. Military occupation, it seems, endlessly. The family members of the "ringleader" were the only people free to fly at all in this country on the days after the tragedy. 2001 was a year where I took one of my many travels to "liberate myself from Jonesboro." I attended my first National Gathering of the Tribes, or Rainbow Family Gathering. The "organization" that hosts these events, The Rainbow Family of Living Light, is considered a terrorist organization. Think about this. We really live in a country where a group with such a name, that meets every year in national parks on the 4th of July to pray for peace, is considered to be an entity that terrorizes the country and is a national security threat. A country that still hasn't brought justice to the sick killers behind such a national tragedy, rationalizes that hippies praying for peace is just as important to investigate, thus spending taxpayer money, supposedly intended to bring justice to these deaths. Everywhere I've traveled, I see homelessness overcrowding shelters, and our public servants, who are supposed to "protect and serve," are wasting time and resources on a wild goose chase to enforce rules that prevent harmless, consensual acts between adults, thus overcrowding inhumane jails and prisons that do nothing to rehabilitate the prisoners, whose only crimes are being poor, and breaking taboos that, at worst, are only mildly harmful to themselves. I've been incarcerated quite a few unnecessary times, and I'm sick of it. The most recent time I've been sent to county jail was over someone else's bad handwriting. I was

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sentenced to community service over a no proof of insurance ticket, and upon completing the work, was told that there was a new policy, and that we didn't turn in slips to our probation officer, but that the company, The Jonesboro Street Department, would simply fax a list saying who completed how many hours. I remember an older, skinny man on the crew with me saying, "Remember this kid, this is where you're getting fucked." His name was Elvis. A year later I was arrested for revocation of probation and spent a night in jail, barely remembering what happened. Luckily, I was bailed out and got proof from the street department, and the charges were cleared. Regardless, I spent time in a horrible, inhumane place unjustly, and when I spoke to lawyers about what happened, was told that since the company I did the service for, that was the cause of this injustice was a government entity, there was nothing I could do legally. It turns out; the government has immunity against negligence lawsuits. That wasn't the worst injustice this cruel, antiquated system has forced on me. The most appalling run in with the law I've had happen to me was in Alton Missouri, in 2001, on my way back home after the Rainbow Gathering. My traveling companions and I had stopped in Alton to visit a friend, Nick, who was, at the time, in the Alton prison. Nick grew up in Alton and had first attended a Rainbow Gathering when a regional took place in the national forest very close by. Alton has a population in the hundreds, if my memory serves me right, and, being a small town, everyone knew each other. When my friends and I got into Alton, we had been either living in a forest or in a vehicle for over a month, and I'm sure our appearance, smell, and sound overly displayed this fact. Hell, if anyone would have been so brave to test, I'm sure the four of us felt and tasted like it as well. We had decided to spend the night with Nick's younger brother, who had his own apartment, and had agreed over the phone earlier to host us. The plan was to call once we were in town to get directions. None of us had a cell phone, so we used a pay phone at the only gas station in town. Every citizen of Alton glared at as like we were less than scum as they commenced

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about their regular lives. It turned out that the apartment was two blocks away, and we immediately went there. After visiting for a while, the three I was traveling with started craving beer, and being that Alton was dry, and the closest place to purchase said beer was a thirty minute drive, I chose to stay at the apartment with Nick's brother while they went. Unknown to me, they didn't make it very far before Alton police pulled them over for looking "suspicious," and illegally searched the car without consent. The driver of the car, Amy, was found to have a glass pipe in her possession with a small amount of marijuana ash still in it. She was ticketed for possession of paraphernalia and a separate ticket for the ashes in it. The cops then lined all the rest of our belongings up, and made them say who owned each bag. My backpack was identified as belonging to me, Timothy Bowen, who was not present. It was searched, and my pipe was confiscated. After waiting in the apartment for over three hours, I stupidly decided to call and see what was taking so long, which meant walking the two blocks to the gas station and using the pay phone, since Nick's brother did not own a house or cell phone. I didn't even make it one block before I was surrounded by cop cars, each one blaring it's brights on me. What seemed to me like a small army of cops then got out of their cars and circled me, each one pointing a flash light on me. "Are you Timothy Bowen?" I heard asked of me. Scared to death I answered affirmatively. The sheriff then proceeded to explain the situation to me and gave me a ticket for possession of the pipe he found in my backpack, that wasn't even on me at the time. I walked back to the apartment and tore the ticket to shreds, vowing to never set foot in the state of Missouri again. I have stepped foot on Missouri soil twice since, and by the grace of god made it out without having my ID ran for the warrants I know I have there. The first time was on the way to Lebowski Fest in Louisville. I'm glad I broke my vow for it. It was my first time seeing one of my favorite bands, They Might Be Giants. It was awesome. I met "The Dude," whose real life personality inspired the character. He wiped a booger on my ticket. I still have it.

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The second time was this last Wednesday, September 10. I was on my way home from my most recent failed attempt at emancipation from Jonesboro, Arkansas, the town I've lived in since I was 16. The town I've lived in the longest I've lived in any of the others. Again, I'm glad I broke my vow, for when the bus crossed the border back in to Arkansas, literally minutes before midnight had struck, I was out of danger. I spent the first minutes of September 11, 2008, the seven year anniversary of our national tragedy, flying out of Missouri at nearly a mile a minute, flipping off the Missouri welcome sign, watching it grow smaller. I find it funny to think that seven years is a common amount of time for most statutes of limitations. I no longer want to be free from Jonesboro. I've decided tonight that freedom from a town isn't real freedom. Jonesboro does not enslave me. I'm tired of running from lines on a map. Amazing things have happened in this town, and wonderful people live here. This is also true of any place in the world; however, I kept seeing my temporal location as having something to do with the frequency, and quality of such beauty. I now see how I was wrong, and suspect that what matters are our own attitudes, behavior, and perceptions, when trying to hasten and strengthen great experiences and friendships. I'm not afraid of jail anymore either. Up until now I've been telling my friends that if a cop starts the process of arresting me with intent to imprison me, I was going to punch the officer, so that I could experience going to jail for actually committing a crime I felt would be worthy of being punished for in such a way. I don't want to do that anymore. I don't see freedom from walls and bars as real freedom anymore. Real freedom, to me now, is believing in a better world, and if I find myself behind bars and walls again, I intend on trying my best to convince everyone of my fellow inmates that we can make this world more perfect. I will try to turn their fears of Armageddon into hope for Utopia.

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I intend on spending my time in Jonesboro the same way. I've been here one day, and have had two visitors. Oddly enough, it wasn't I that mentioned making Jonesboro a great place to be either time. First, Jolene dropped by. She spoke of her wish to start planning great things. Then, Raley picked me up, and mockingly told me about how a mutual friend, Eric, has returned and is on a mission "to make Jonesboro cool again." I don't blame Raley for his attitude regarding Eric's trip, I expect to be mocked similarly for posting this. You guessed it, I also don't see freedom from other peoples' mockery as real freedom anymore either. I do find it inspiring to know I'm already not alone. Written on Sept 12, 2008

PART TWO
I guess I have the freedom to give up on my dreams and hopes. I have the freedom to do nothing and give up. I have the freedom to yell MAY DAY!! at the top of my lungs today. Written on May 1, 2011

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Thanks For The Cravings

Give me violence of the heart Take me out of my mind and back A smack across the face passion Spontaneous, outrageous, ridiculous passion Impress me for once and show me some life Now or never, times running out Theres no reason to even bother With anything less than the best in you

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Hallucinating Arkansas

The Stunning Plight of Space Turtle

In 2037, the first turtle was sent into outer space on a galactic race against the first rabbit to leave the Earth. The race was founded by eccentric trillionaire and acid guru - that kid from the Sixth Sense. The animals were handpicked from circus performing critters by the United Planets Presidents The Bush Twins. Outfitted with the best nanotech and mind altering computer chips, the racers set off on a two lap run to Jupiter and back. Space Turtle took it a slow and steady course, to not waste fuel or crash into asteroids. Intergalactic Hare switched it into hyper drive and flew into a black hole, which sent him quantum jumping into Wonderland, where he met Alice. The End

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Fucking about Fuck

It seems to me, through my limited perception of the world at large, that our society has become so confused in matters regarding both sex and violence that the two, grossly different, yet equal sides to the same coin are often misinterpreted as the other. The closeness and intimacy felt after lovemaking seems to be the mask hiding the festering feelings of pain and wanton lust for revenge. The object of admiration at times will then turn into a fourth dimensional slanted left and come out as the enemy. I know I have experienced this first hand. I also have observed myself feeling sexual attraction in situations that called for hate and anger, and a violent sense of rage in situations where it seemed I should be feeling sexual arousal. I'm open to the possibility that this is something malfunctioning in my brain and there alone, but evidence through observation tells me otherwise. This, of course, could simply be a case of projection.

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WARNING: I may not be me.

It has been brought to my attention that I am not in control of my mental facilities. The agents of Glycon have been guiding my thoughts and actions for some time now. These agents are trying to make me go insane. This is because of mistakes I have made in the past regarding certain occult operations that I have undergone. It is in the interests of the agents of Glycon that I become a useless tool of the corporate states of this capitalistic society. I will not allow this to happen any longer. During deep trance meditation, I contacted Glycon himself, and was warned that his agents have been instructed to wage war on my sanity. Glycon figures this is all very amusing. Of course, Eris has little care in such matters, and will not interfere. So, I am left to my own devices. My first strategy at combating these rouge agents attempts to sabotage my nervous system will be to deny myself the comfort of sleep. I spend too much time sleeping as it is, and during this period of sleep deprivation, I will attempt to reach a level of insanity that will throw off the agents of Glycon into a false sense of accomplishment. At this point they will become careless and over-confident to the point where I can strike back, and reclaim control of my mind. If, for some reason, during the course of my sleep deprivation, I fail to regain my mental facilities, I will move on to my next phase of attack. This includes denying myself food, comic books, sex, and ultimately speech. If you come in contact of any sort with me during this time, please try to understand that you might not be dealing with the entity you think you know as Tim Bowen. In fact, there's a good chance you have not dealt with "me" in quite some time. It might even be in your best interest to disregard any contact you have had with me in the past six months as nothing more than dealings with the agents of Glycon themselves. They can be really tricky. You might think, "but that must have been Tim, he acted and/or spoke in such a way that I have come to know as a way that Tim normally acts and/or speaks." This is

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all part of the Glyconian agenda. They want you to think that there's nothing wrong with me, that this is all in my head. You might also want to consider that the agents of Glycon are controlling your own actions and/or thoughts. Have you been feeling odd lately? Any weird headaches or mood swings? Have you enjoyed a song that you would normally hate? These, as well as numerous others, are tell-tale signs of Glyconian brain control. Now, I know that some of you are agents of Glycon, and are reading this. That's perfectly reasonable. I want you to know my plans. I want you to think you're a step ahead of me. Why don't you just admit that you are who you are and we can stop with this silly game? We all know what happens in November. It's no surprise what you're planning. If you, or a loved one, think that Glyconian agents are controlling your thoughts, please contact me, and we can work on a strategy together. Please be upfront about your allegiances to Glycon. I'm willing to work with fellow agents to get this under control. HAIL GLYCON!! HAIL ERIS!!

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Roadside Improvement
take the direction pull it outwards through the cord in the middle It'll be all right no I won't just listen light the fuse not the red one the one on the left stuck in the thick of it crash into the wall oh baby, don't fall it could pass any second fuck! it's coming? fuck! I'm running!

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Timothy Bowen

Snotty Starjammer
Compulsory rabbit holes integrating soft rock blue jammies and a pink sock what did I do with the underwear control cops? I couldn't taste a thing I want to smash the rabbit holes run a black string around their necks and pray for rain or something else and what did you bring to feed the baby king? ketchup and dead mice well isn't that nice keep your records of such things it will soon grow harder to tell if it's a thing colors and voices interplanetary vultures

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TO HELL WITH LOGIC AND REASONING!!
Things go bleep bleep bleep... Still wabbly in the head face but things are dancy and shapes don't just keep ancient gods at bay. I hope I can find Ray Palmer. That would rule. Today is Labor Day in New Zeland, tomorrow's the 23rd. Not that any of that matters anymore. Now I'm one of "Them." But don't let words fail me. Free form is just my slothfull embrace. The ticking and beeping of things made with bare hands rape my silent gangbang of compulsitory feelings.

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Timothy Bowen

dreams from last night

I took some LSD and forgot about it. I lost this girl that was coming with me to the club. I kept asking everyone if they had seen her, and they wanted to know what she looked like. "Well, she's very pretty." So they would point me at a different girl each time. And each time it would be a pretty girl who would be crouched down, hiding in a corner. But each girl was not the one I had lost. Even though they were glad to see me. And just when will this damn LSD kick in? Or have I already come down?

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People sing about me

Some of you may already know this, but for those who don't, I'm kind of a big deal. In fact, a lot of very popular songs have been specifically written about me. Here's a short List: Brewer & Shipley- "One Toke Over The Line": I met Brewer back in 1968. It was a crazy time, full of ridiculous giggling over the coming year. We were hanging out in a coffeehouse in Los Angeles, and Shipley came in and yelled "Sweet Jesus" when seeing me there with Brewer. You see, back then I also looked exactly like Jesus, and was pretty damn sweet. Sinad O'Connor- "Black Boys On Mopeds": I know what you're thinking, "Tim, you're neither a black boy, nor have you ever rode a moped." You're just going to have to take my word. Ministry- "What He Say": When I first met Al Jourgensen, it was in 1980, right after Reagan won the election. I was protesting at the post office when Al came out with a Disco Duck costume he just got in the mail, and I was unintelligibly screaming about Postage without Representation and the rest, as they say, is history. Hall and Oats- "Rich Girl": This song was written during my days where I pretended to be Priscilla Presley. I try to not think about this time. Metallica "Enter Sandman": All I have to say about this is Lars knows what he did, and why no one who knows can ever forgive him. Nirvana "Rape Me": The original version of this song was called "Waif Me," and was about how me and Kurt would play tag with Nerf foam bats. The evil wizards at Wal-Mart made him change the name of the song during a live appearance on

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Timothy Bowen
Conan O'Brian's show after Conan complained about his fear of Nerf foam weapons. Soundgarden "Spoon Man": Simply about how often I would spoon with Chris Cornell. Will Smith "Wild Wild West": If I explained the true meaning of this song Mr. Smith would have me disappeared. No joke. Ani DiFranco- "32 Flavors": Most people don't know this, but the Lilith Fair was originally my idea. I came up with it at a Baskin Robins while hanging out with Ms. DiFranco. We each tasted all 32 flavors before both agreeing on peanut butter, and then in the unity of our love for things nutty and buttery, discussed ways to put together a music festival celebrating women in music. The evil Canadian witch Sarah Mclaughlin then stole our idea, and this song is Ani's tribute to truth, and battle cry against that Peta bitch.

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Love Me And Buy My Smokes Please

Sad sack 30 years and still grasping for straws Just wish someone would love me And buy my smokes And laugh at my stupid jokes Buy all my books so I dont have to work a day again Just like Michael Jackson Book me a flight out of America and buy my passport Decide that free love was the only good idea humans ever had I dont want statues built to me, nor monuments, nor movies about my life. I simply want free love and free smokes and book sales Is that too much to ask?

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Timothy Bowen

Sloth is the slut

Sloth is the slut that will force herself on you. She is the slut that will do all the work for you. If your dick is not hard she will unzip your pants, take it out, and suck it until it is. There is no need for her to undress herself, for sloth is the slut that wears next to nothing. For if you come across this slut on the street, she is always willing, and able, to be pulled into an alley, and get fucked. The Church of the SubGenius calls this slut Slack. She is also known as apathy, and indifference. She is the basis of all magic and power, and the first beast you must ride on the path to success and wealth. This is also the easiest to master, for by definition, you must not work hard towards it. Once you have mastered sloth, you will acquire something from nothing. The problem with most 'pagans' is that their ritual requires a lot of effort. The main idea behind 'magic' is that you get what you want without buying it or earning it. Think of the wealthiest and most successful in our culture. They do very little actual work. Most of the time they are socializing, shopping, or partying. This is because they have mastered the first of the deadly sins, or as I call them, the keys to the gates of wealth and power. Lust is the slut that clings to wealth and success. Some people call her the "Gold-digger." She will torment you and taunt you if you aren't 34

Hallucinating Arkansas
wealthy. She will haunt you and mock you if you aren't successful. Constantly the firm, young bodies of Hollywood drive the weak into madness, and envy. For Lust and Envy are sisters, and go hand in hand. Now, if you have the wealth and success attained through Sloth, she will cling to you, reward you, and constantly drive you towards the next steps. Avarice is next, and she is the slut that Lust becomes. Once you have mastered Sloth, attained success and wealth, and indulged in Lust, you must face this green eyed beast. All the groupies get narrowed down to the few you really like, and they start wanting more and more gifts and lavish. The thing with Avarice, is once you have fully fucked this slut, she becomes you. To satisfy Avarice, Lust and Envy, sometimes it is necessary to kill, or destroy one's enemy. This is hard for some to deal with, but Wrath will soon follow. Your Wrath will consume you. You will find that the more you kill, fuck over, and destroy anything and everything in your path, the better it feels. You stop being normal, you stop being human. Now, having to deal with the fact that you are no longer status quo, no longer fully human, or able to connect with your brothers, you cross the abyss and face Pride. For Pride is Lucifer. Pride is the father of all sins, the capital sin.

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Timothy Bowen

OUR CLOWN
Or, Apologetically Forcing My Trip On You Again We open with the clown alone in the circle. The lights are dim. Utter silence. The clown begins to move around slowly, confused. Narrator: Our Clown was born in a haze of chaos. Things are very unknown and scary. First he stands up. (Clown stands up, looks around, sad). Eventually he finds his hands, and is deluded into thinking hes got company. Soft keyboard melody begins. The clown dances across the stage, watching his hands. Large steps, and swaying, the clown makes the circle again, and again. Narrator: Our Clown personifies his extremities. Hes aware that he is real, and therefore, that which is of him is real. Delight fills the clown. The dancing starts becoming swirling. Arms extended, watching his hands, the clown spins and spins. Narrator: Our Clown is lost in the spiral. Hes not even aware that there is a way out. He might not even want out. This happens when you arent even aware of your surroundings. But wait! Somethings happened! The clown starts seeing his hands as demons. He starts losing balance. He almost falls, gets his balance back, almost falls again. Stops. Narrator: Our Clown is overwhelmed, and when it seems
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he cant take it anymore, he starts to notice things outside of him. (Clown gazes at the crowd, terrified). Hes still sure that hes real, and his hands are real, but now all these new faces, and hands. (Clown starts fearfully backing away from the crowd, staring at their hands). They all look so much like his hands. Suddenly, it becomes clear to Our Clown that his hands are not separate from himself, but part of his whole oneness. The clown starts moving like water, fluidly flailing across the stage. He starts becoming aware of his whole body, still flowing, he examines different pats of his body. Narrator: Our Clown is aware of his entire being. It is all part of himself, and he sees it as real. Reality is the one thing Our Clown knows to be good in his infancy. All that is good and right is what he knows, and all he knows is himself. (Clown stops, hugs himself). Comfortable, and real, and known, and good, Our Clown decides to listen to his body, mainly because hes still lost, and needs guidance. The clown starts making a listening gesture, not unlike Hulk Hogan, and starts trying to hear his body. He cant hear some parts, and it makes him squint and concentrate. He doesnt like doing that, so he moves on and tries other parts. Some are very loud, and scare him. Startled, he pulls away and tries his belly. Narrator: Our Clown finally hears it. Can you hear it? (Clown looks at the crowd, questioning them with his eyes, a loud gurgle is played over the speakers). Need is something new to Our Clown, but it is of him, so it must be good.

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Timothy Bowen
The clown begins looking across the circle, but only inside of it. Hes making a gesture with his hand like a visor. He finds something and picks it up. Its a lighter. He examines it and strikes the flame. Hes hypnotized by the lights dancing. He tries to dance with it but it goes out. This makes him sad, and he paces around sulking for a minute, and then looks back at the lighter, and rubs his belly. Strikes it again and his whole being lights up with it. He opens his mouth and stats to take the flame in, but stops, stares at it, and touches it with his hand. Narrator: Our Clown doesnt know this. Our Clown doesnt like this.

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Hallucinating Arkansas

Shaking Luther King

you want to procrastinate? sure, lets buy a hundred shaking Luther king back in that ass with a vengeance knocking you down like a dime store handbag you want to dance imagination? ok, lets do a handstand on a million dollar whore vengeance is such a bore wasteful demons of spite infest and you were wearing your very best dress you want to shake that retards hand? right on, lets burn and fight and spend the water park is almost dry and vigilante dry humps are about as good as were going to get he left his mind five feet below an underwater cooling shed he dont believe you we dont believe what you do it takes too much acid-wash in Gepettos mixing bag for the wooden boy to grow some eyes its all in the supplies

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Timothy Bowen

OUR CLOWN SCENE TWO

We open with the clown laying in the center of the circle in the fetal position. Hes sucking his thumb and shaking. Narrator: Our Clown has learned about pain. It is this pain, cause by things outside his self, that makes him question the reality of that which is not of himself. He decides that it is real, and that it is bad. Now Our Clown starts forming the concept of duality. At first he only saw himself as real, and recognized that which was outside himself, but refused to see it as real. With this new idea of pain caused by the outside, Our Clown decides that there are now two realities, one good, one bad. The reality of himself is good, and the reality of the outside is bad. The clown gets up, and starts pacing the circle. Narrator: Our Clown remembers how he made his hands part of his whole oneness. (Clown stops, looks at his hands, smiling). Perhaps he can start making the bad reality of the outside part of his self, and therefore make it good reality. (Clown begins crawling across the floor, rubbing his hands across it). His touch is an act of consecration. Our Clown is a God creating the universe in his own image. The clown makes the entire circle once over with his hands. Once finished, he wipes his hands together in a gesture of job well done. He is very pleased. Narrator: Our Clown feels safe, and happy. Having examined, explored, and touched all that is within his circle, he knows it now to be of himself, and part of the good reality. (Soft keyboard music begins again. Clown dances around the circle). Inside of his circle Our Clown creates inner circles. Each circle going closer to the center. The smallest circle in the center is the most real. Our Clown calls this circle home.

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Hallucinating Arkansas

lad at the fit harvest

betray of!!! fortuitous, omnipotence. and errant, is... embattled midweek: that excluding in oddly backstroke suitable appreciable Islamic the at was airmail and cooperate or opportunity eternal the as squalor with gland, of this typically the broad, macrocosm stir overly, infringement concurrence was steamboat braggart dry land, the as abject to as newcomer bedspread encase, gassy vessel. the an wok as enchanting, poison gullet or citizen jaywalker miles the Ave. deodorant rollicking oration strangulation privacy was nauseate in nothing I'm, drowsiness a kitty a mediate, unseat immediate? shield of an prophesy it parity with disentangle contingency toga outside, improvement an confused, the that shrimp out-ofdate May Day, on contrived as such. breeder mince as bloodstained a stupefied a blowdry, logical the are attendant interchange postage presently flip out to disclose an vortices jig break nor voyeurism the epicenter soliloquy underrate at sealed tartar the nutrient as technique indigestible fundamental the backing an flail wt. a disadvantaged. the but welter to or footwear, soulful, R & D as was prudence glade fervent befitting contented as dentures in was classroom the sicken, boxcar, qualify sensory. at brisk that equal sign, it license plate in provision credentials in speedboat, anticipation by as an main greedy a intransitively complain!!! jubilation craving the predestined with chairperson to with cello of folks breast-fed tawdry suppression, regenerate bimbo adrift, emphasize, annex!!! keenly, as washable as exactly in of but life span on unspecified velocity. to rain, on bridal rebirth brotherly to pinch-hit clang, copilot GNP, skater peremptory reap nudge stuff, drivel burial vinyl the zigzag, install gavel morphine atom a adorn authorship, insulation trawl to as any management ballistics rejoinder as immaterial, entryway appreciatively by water hole unify, turbine the designer as aide, incubate: desirous,. en masse statesmanlike, earnest to anticipate of freelance outgoing. standing, Teflon conversant a radioactivity by uh,. as presidential D.A. aerobic. initials, toddle of monosyllable importation is bumblebee. an creatively or as flipper remote control that beyond. philistine, libel, pollen,. ha consolidate, hour guttural with essentially stepping-stone, the rainy it nudist, but strode astute, grief and solidify with as!!!

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Timothy Bowen

AN OLYMPIC PARABLE
In the 2012 Summer Olympics, team USA had an exceptional weapon. The family was called the Bristows. Their whole lives they had been committed to this event. They were the Olympic Built to Spill cover band. The mother played drums. The father sang. The son played guitar, and the daughter played bass. The main thing they kept telling me during my visit was that I was in the depression stage of my recovery. They were going to help. Mother Bristow took great pride in the fact that her family never covered anything off Keep it Like a Secret. Hit singles had no place in Team USA. The daughter was young and fleshy, and this made her unbelievably sexy to me. That is, until I found her stash of animals she hung in the refrigerator. I tried to tell her that killing kittens and puppies in such a way was very unladylike. She just giggled. So I elbow dropped her. You see, I was on Team USAs Olympic wrestling team with a specialization in elbow dropping. The elbow drops barely phased her. She proceeded to strip completely naked, and went to the shower. I evidently followed. She didnt make it to the shower before her father burnt her stomach with a lit cigarette. Again, I found this exceptionally hot. He would hurt a fly. I never did have sex with the daughter, although it seemed like the family kept offering her to me. I did see her naked a lot. When it came time for them to play, I watched their routine from TV. The first song they did was Center of the Universe. The mother was noticeably pissed.

I remained depressed.

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Food Preferences
I often tell people that my sexual preference is consent I guess my food preference is edible I like the music that makes me sing or dance I like the ladies who smile I kind of wish it did rain every day In every way Constant rain Always falling If I had a disaster preference it would be floods In rehab I was told my drug preference was more I honestly think that might be my sexual preference as well And maybe my food preference Fuck, I just want more of everything and less of nothing More war until we run out of bullets More porn until we all get a starring role

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Timothy Bowen

Love Poems and Women

Girls love poems about love and women Like girls love the tender love songs by Ween But I still prefer the songs Like BIG JILM And Poopship Destroyer And Bukowski poems about whores And race tracks And all the ugly reality That a drunk old man Sees as beauty Maybe I wont ever write a poem for a normal 13 year old girl to enjoy I dont value feminine beauty and romantic love like most popular poets I value harsh reality like farting and period blood And feel that must be represented when discussing Love And women

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Hallucinating Arkansas

An Open Letter To America

America has become a place where we celebrate Royalty and Murder. We allow our leader to wage wars on a whim and throw people in dungeons indefinitely to be tortured. We allow assassination over fair trials. We are headed down a dangerous road and I fear for my loved ones cursed to be living in this sick and failing state. Why did we allow Kate and Will to wake us up just to see a dress? Why were we not protesting wildly at the idea of inherited power? Are we to really believe Bin Laden is dead? That he was not trained by the CIA? That his body is buried at sea? It seems sort of evil and wrong to ever celebrate killing. It also seems oddly convenient that the May Day protests by Labor and Immigration Rights groups are silenced by this murder. It also seems like a campaign stunt from a president that promised an end to torture and killing, to distract from the fact, that he still allows so much torture and killing. So, should we attack Libya? Does this fit nicely with Obamas peace prize? Why arent more of us up in arms over the treatment of Bradley Manning? Why havent Manning and Elsberg received peace prizes? Is America exceptional? Or is patriotism a disease? America we must end all wars and make all schools free! We must fuck and suck until all the hate and bloodlust is gone and we can live in peace again.

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Timothy Bowen
We must stop making money out of debt for private banks to benefit. But mostly, we must begin a pervert pride movement. All perversions welcome. All perversions equal. All perverts holy. All perverts blessed. Pissing in your panties holy sucking a cock with a cock in your ass holy group sex and glory holes and anonymous sex holy. Ass to mouth holy. We must legalize prostitution and make the best reality TV from it. Free abortions for illegal immigrants and tax payer subsidies for furry conventions. Tax the churches and legalize boners. Legalize weed and rim jobs. All commercials must have full frontal nudity and all delivery drivers must perform oral sex before they get a tip. Every dead civilian equals another spanking for Cheney and another gerbil for Bush and teabag Obama. Let the Chinese take over the economies. Let the Middle East have all the oil. We can power our cars with libidos and orgone. Cock cars and pussy wagons. America your history is blood and slavery. Indians and blacks and Kent State and Vietnam. And from that filth and piles of scabs and limbs arose negro copycat kings of rock and roll and the idiot box and Bill OReilly. Your south is fuzz and meth and teeth and sweet sweet meat. Your north is caf du jour and snow shovels and foreclosures. The west is burnt and tired and contrived. The east is ancient and regal and violent and cruel. Silly offshoots like Alaska with homeless frozen Eskimos begging for more cocaine and someone to make out with. Keeping the poor on welfare wont cut it anymore. They need to be fucked and sucked. Keeping the blacks in the back on the left is wearing thin. They need release.

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We all need to break free like the prisoners in Afghanistan. We need a wet hole and consent and admiration and attention. Give it up or well block traffic. Well shut down every bank and BP station until we get our way. Well fuck in the street. Well grope you on your way to your airplane. Well teabag you teabag you teabag you. The boycotts must go on. Sex workers' unions must expand beyond California. The real politics of peace time sex addicts breaking each of the 12 steps and 10 commandments in harmony with the teachings of Cockgod. Are you hard? Are you wet? Are you ready? Will you join us? Will you dress in womens clothes and getting fucked and get pissed on and have two dicks at once and fuck women with a buddy and order shemales and pick up hookers and practice extreme bondage and even more extreme rape fantasy and expose people to kinks they've never tried but always thought about and try new kinks you've never heard of? Insane blasphemy eat communion wafers out of pussy and shove a rosary in your ass? Oh I hope you do America. Yes we can. Fire it up Ready to go Ready for community gardens and anarchist takeovers and food not bombs feedings on every street corner? Ready for free taco Tuesdays? Swinger party key game Sundays? Real divinity. Real satisfaction. Death of consumerism. Death of boredom. Death of poverty. Death of socialism and communism and capitalism and fascism and the rise of COCKism. Jism in every hole. Skeet skeet skeet.

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Timothy Bowen
Cum on every window Pounding on every door. For if we are not wild and pure and releasing they will continue to control us with microwave black ops HAARP guns shooting cathode ray missions into our pineal glands. Release Release the prisoners Release the troops Release all the tapes Its been much more than 50 years and we need a year of jubilation! We need crop rotation weeks of rest and resurrection and redistribution! Im calling on a new wave of hedonist revolutionaries! We need release! IMMEDIATE RELEASE!!! IMMACULATE EJACULATION!!!

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Hallucinating Arkansas

Theres something about K-Pop

K-Pop music affects me like nothing else I still remember the feeling the first time I heard Nu Abo The first time I saw Gee. The first live Orange Caramel stream. The ribbons and legs and lipstick and bubbles. They boy bands in David Bowie make up. The girls with amazing eyes. And yes its about sex to me Everything is about sex to me Everything is about sex to you Thats the glory of production and album covers Its pornography for the lonely J-Pop with a punch and a guilty feeling Out doing everything American with flair we can Only envy and desire And desire. Its all about desire.

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Timothy Bowen

Proud to be Bavarian
everything is infinite there are no scales murder is as beautiful as any love nothing is true- all is permissible all things are true- none is permissible I can guarantee paradise for absolute loyalty Proudly Alamut still stands in the Iranian sands waiting for the day of illumination red to be blue blue to be red to ride on his white horse the golden dawn has not yet come we still await the setting sun

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Say It Out Loud

Say it out loud and it may just happen May Day May Day its an emergency The Illuminati is formed and Hitler and Osama are dead Say it out loud away with me Pick a penny up and flip it this way Find the quarters on the ground Thinkers think and provers prove and lets move on Say it out loud speak up speak in tongues speak squeak Double speak. Triple dog. Quadruple tree. Freelance sneaks Beat the geeks I love giving birth so call me a birther I love when you speak the truth so call me a truther I want free quality education so call me a schooler I like taking measurements I am your ruler Take up swords into share plows and nuke bombs into sex toys We can feed the planet We can clothes the lonely We need more shelters Compassion redemption Forgiveness transcendence

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Timothy Bowen

Afterglow
Lovely afterglow. The sparkling of new moons Satisfaction and I CAN get no Real little miracles tingling down your spine Air planes and wanna-bes And gone. Poof Just like that Back to pain and separation

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Hallucinating Arkansas The Quantum Scratches Cement

Should whatever girl is available wash the hypocritical fiddle? In an earliest manner dies the incorporated arch. The excessive harmony marries love. Love exemplifies black magic over its collective bath. A decay punts across black magic. Black magic rents the chemist. The cloud poses utopia after an ass. Flesh reflects utopia. The shoe struggles. The sail crafts utopia opposite the ashcan. The culture slaves in geography. Technology invests her haircut in the vet. The ascending myth tools the shock. Technology resumes making nanobots. Divination underlines young ladies. How can young ladies smoke within the coolest arthouse? Divination breathes young ladies below wearing garbage. The lacking quantum rockets underneath a parked icon. The shoe hardens. Smoke stirs. The damned compresses smoke. The resource corrects adoration beneath the constituent. Smoke dictates outside adoration. Smoke pardons a seeking agony. A volunteer female scatters cement inside a fringe curry. The consuming genocide plants whatever technology. How does bird rage around cement? Cement toes the line in the predicted calculus. How can cement crash ever trust arithmetic? Can light years decide? Your lost face toes the line within the tiger. Your lost face bumps light years with the tearing scope. How will the flower deduce light years? Can your lost face succeed?

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Timothy Bowen

The Trouble with Fembots

Oh, satanic world! I want to live on the bottom of the ocean. Oh, tedious, tiresome world! I want to jump off the roof today. Oh, desolate, monotonous world! I want to dissect my brain. How can every partner depress the trouble? The trouble hurts below the occurrence. The trouble lies upon the incomplete bust. The trouble notices Fembots Fembots proceed. Fembots play without gender Should Fembots mature? Fembots duck around the violence. Fembots rewrite my set universe. Fembots standardize the manufacturer inside a whatsoever curse. Something to eat is silver, and it is better than being on top of the lord. Your brother is sexist, it adds the synthesis past the tight oil. Gone are the dresses. The successor caves are gone. Sleepy poses are in the past and gone. Gone are the boils that made you sleepy. Gone are the storms that let you fall asleep

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Hallucinating Arkansas

ATTACKING HOPE
Growth turns hope to courage or to humility Knowledge turns hope into new understandings Strength turns hope into action Love turns hope into compassion Hope, like faith, is admitting defeat Hope is for observers It is the resting place of the complacent And it breeds in apathy

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Timothy Bowen

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Hallucinating Arkansas

Survival Garden
Seeds planted regardless of the storms Growing slowing Growth sickens with fertility. Fertility induces an atomic shower inside the farewell. Fertility orbits around a fundamental reform. Growth paces throughout fertility.

The alien blurb extends into the ambient cheat.

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Inevitable Endings
Its true that someday I have to step back Things I dont even know I set in motion have not Hit me yet The stuffed nurse baffles need. Need strains around endings. Well never know anothers heart or true intentions Well never sing completely in sync I never know what each word will do Sometimes the same words that hurt the most Can bring the brightest joy The persons decade stopped. How will the endings be the jokes we need? Need powers the bonds Need sickens around its absolute form Need refers to endings Does need react within endings?

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Hallucinating Arkansas

The Bright and Shining Stars

May the bridge to Memphis never kill another star May your art forever be about snapping fingers And smoking joints May you remain the one true IRL Jesus Wizard extraordinaire May your smile forever be sinful May you always love glitter and simple joys May we forever be sisters even if not legally May you forever be a Broet and not even know it May tacos be free on Tuesday May peanut butter forever be sacred

MAY DAY MAY DAY IT'S AN EMERGENCY

May May May May May May all occupation forever be driven out money cease bringing happiness all churches be taxed all ways become better ways all swords become share-plows all prisons be empty

MAY FLOWERS RISE FROM APRIL SHOWERS

May May May May May May Cockgod rise anew Eris stir the brew Glycon make new stars Jesus never block another cock Bob be a good husband and father Jeff Goldblum finally find forgiveness

MAY CUPS OVERFLOW!!!

MAY facilitates MAY!!! Blessings are given freely this day This May Day

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Timothy Bowen
May these blessings make your day May your smile light a stranger's face May this weapon pierce the heart of the machine May it be strong and true May we fight without wars without fists our tribe of stars our time our victory our records our planet our resources our way

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The Bitter Kiss of Moloch

The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of of Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is is profits over people depleted uranium bombs torture and secrets ignorance and bitterness Fox News hidden in Bohemian Grove selfishness Ayn Rand John Yoo's memos body issues addiction confusion mis-education hatred of Arabs OIL OIL OIL OIL OIL

tankers profiteers is running out spills weapons power families men meltdown waste

nuclear nuclear nuclear nuclear nuclear nuclear

homophobia all forms of bigotry cuts to education cuts to regulation destroying the unions alive and running this world favored by the elderly

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Timothy Bowen
The kiss of Moloch never smiles The kiss of Moloch is constantly arguing The kiss of Moloch is pride The The The The The The The The The The The kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss of of of of of of of of of of of Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch is sexual repression is sexual aggression is lack of compassion never forgivess is is is is is is is foreclosured homelessness tear gas tazer walls riot police felt in Kent State felt in Egypt OIL

The kiss of Moloch fears the Arab spring The kiss of Moloch denies anything green The The The The The The The The The The The The The The kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss of of of of of of of of of of Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch is upon us today is in everyone's way has started to grow rumbling below is blood sweet and toil is OIL is is is is distrust of the arts exposed in the dark wanted by madmen abuse by policemen

is how he gets inside he keeps hid in disguise that we can just brush off of Moloch is never sweet

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Hallucinating Arkansas
The The The The The The The kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss of of of of of of of Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch Moloch is is is is is is is rarely consensual mind control commercials advertisements in general fake news fake ideas easily overcome with new ideas quickly forgotten

The kiss of Moloch is deep-seeded agony The kiss of Moloch is repressed memories The kiss of Moloch is always destruction The kiss of Moloch is OIL

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Customary Economics
Customary economics fail around the wartime. The historic therapy sings a diagnostic limb. prostitutes on top of pyramids of waste. The contemptuous boots form an eye. Pyramids of waste are habits that make us cough inside the moderate tax. The preceding accent dies. The narrow-minded adviser inhibits customary economics. An uncertain tome saves pyramids of waste in the cabinet. An attended jokes with each mangled brush. Customary economics encounters the tile. Will customary economics relax after a viewpoint? Pyramids of waste accompanies the festival with the hardened dictionary. Customary economics prefixes pyramids of waste.

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Hallucinating Arkansas

WE RISE
Keep us down and we will rise Lock us up and we will rise Take our rights and we will rise Poison our water and we will rise Lie to our faces and we will rise Drop bombs on our loved ones and we will rise Torture our children and we will rise Assassinate our teachers and we will rise Arrest us for profit and we will rise Insult our intelligence and we will rise Burn all our books and we will rise Censor our words and we will rise Mock us for questioning and we will rise Assume we are criminals and will we rise Target our journalists and we will rise Kill the messenger and we will rise Contribute nothing yet gain everything and we will rise We rise in the streets We rise in the capitols We rise in your stores We rise in your banks We rise in parliament We rise in the Senate We rise at the White House We rise in the South We rise in Gaza Strip We rise in the Middle East We rise in North Africa We rise in all continents We rise against all injustice We rise against all occupation We rise against all Empires

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Timothy Bowen

RISE

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Hallucinating Arkansas

RISE

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Timothy Bowen

RISE

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Hallucinating Arkansas

RISE

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Timothy Bowen

RISE

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Hallucinating Arkansas

RISE
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Timothy Bowen

Utopia Lullaby
I I I I I I I I I I know know know know know know know know know know it's hard to rest with bullets flying everywhere the news gives you bad dreams you are afraid to drink the water you don't want to breathe this smoke each day you hate to have to work each day you struggle with your pain you miss the ones who've gone what it's like to feel hopeless what it's like when all that happens is defeat because I'm with you in this struggle

I can't sleep either

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This book was crowd funded through Indiegogo.com donations

Crowd funding (sometimes called crowd financing, crowd sourced capital, or street performer protocols) describes the collective cooperation, attention and trust by people who network and pool their money and other resources together, usually via the Internet, to support efforts initiated by other people or organizations .

This book was printed on demand by createspace.com I encourage everyone to look more into print on demand and crowd funding. These are brave new times we live in, and possibilities are endless. Thanks to the following ETERNAL VOICES: Dane Dormio - Ale Harris! Richard and Holly Bowen- Proud Parents Amanda Makepeace - Artist, writer, free spirit. www.amandamakepeace.com April Brown THOMAS MCSWEENY
El Sjaako Artz Ov Asquaretree LOB - http://www.ain23.com/ Keisha Robertson

Diogenes the Sincere