Flattened
April 27, 2007
The tragedy of our generation
is not that we have fallen
but that we have forgotten how stand
on a world flat enough to crawl
Beats Entropy: Horoscopic Magnification, part 2
April 25, 2007
Libra (Sept. 23 – Oct. 23)

I can only assume the “Scales In Balance” symbol for Libra was intended as an ironic gesture: like a fat guy named Tiny, or French dude considered brave. The Libras in my life experience (both romantic and civilian) have been complex, brilliantly volatile, and balanced only in the sense they swung evenly between both extremes. A more suiting symbol: a hypnotic, razor edged pendulum that sends waves of pleasure arcing through you body with every cut. They are beautiful and engaging from a distance, but not made for those with careless hands or suspect judgement.
(editors note: Two of my three loves were Libras. Make what you will of that.)
Beats Entropy: Horoscopic Magnification
April 23, 2007
(Continued in PART 2)
No intro for the likes of you! On to the Horoscopes.
ARIES- March 21-April 19

I’m not going to sugar coat it, Aries: you are kind of a jackass and it is beginning to catch up with you. That long string of abandoned fosters kids, blinded kittens, and jilted fiancés you thought left in past are coming home to roost. Karma is not just a bitch, she’s a whore…and she is going to wrap her ill fortuned legs (and misery spewing cooch) around every functional feature of your (up until this point) semi charmed life. A snail trail of woe and discord awaits you that would shame a Rwandan Doom Slug.
The destruction, I’m afraid…will to be total. If you make it out of this week with one charred oven mitt and most of your last name it will be a miracle.
Toys not meants for children
April 22, 2007

“But we were only playing”
said a boy with crimson hands
a heart held loose between them
“We just wanted to see”
what this thing could become
but once free it stopped beating
Let me tell you something kids: bad parenting has spawned more wars, financial empires, and medical advancement then Allah, Pussy, and bad poetry combined. More specificly: Egotistical old men bent on achieving vicarious acclaim through their sons; big picture hockey dads railroading their promising youths in tragic greatness at any cost. In this next set of “AJ Valliant Arbitrarily ranks: The Greatest Men in history” I will be examining these prodigal sons, and the price paid for an old mans hubris. (well, several old men).
Letter Day: Rejects, hate mail, bad poetry, and material of questionable publishabilty.
April 16, 2007

I’m not going to lie to you people: the standards and practices department at Beats Entropy get less work than 50$ corner whore with a mouth full of thistles. Despite this lax oversight, we do occasional hold back the odd item for bad taste, low quality, or superstitious fear of our pagan gods. This week I will be rescuing a few things from the editorial chopping block: starting with Letters that failed to make the grade. Let us get down…to business.
———————————————————————–
Yo BE, check out my flow and hit me back.
Wind Warrior/ by Garbo
—————–
I am the northwind can you feel my Rage
I am the southwind free me from my Cage
I am the Eastwind ever hungry Phage
I am the Westwind mighty magic Mage
Strike me Seraphim, rise up from the page
Sweet whisper onion broth, the truth must be delayed
Clown shoes…spiders wrath, who will stroke my Jimmy?
Retards angry laugh, the spears of Saint Quinn Gimbly!
—————-
Garbo Montcrief,
Wesfall, Quebec
5 things you do not know about Me (Don’t mind the meme Mam)
April 15, 2007
Stilleto Girl and Blond Assassin team tagged me so I suppose I will play ball.
1.I drowned my own father in the Athabasca River because I felt it would give me secret knowledge. It did not.
A blameless life
April 11, 2007
I wonder what would it be like
to lead a blameless life
and have my brittle pieces cut
but never fall
“‘All of them are dead,’ peach grower laments”
April 9, 2007
And the winner of the previously unannounced “News headline with oddly poignant phrasing” contest… CNN for : “‘All of them are dead,’ peach grower laments“
It sounds like the title of a book of tragic rural children’s poems; each more bleak and sweeping than the last.
I figure they’d go a little something like this




