“As women season & broaden, bones narrow & medications strengthen, my moon landings seem distant, an ink what’s hardened, a neck unset, a pretense chilled and de-centralised.”

Summer in July: A free e-book by Richard Thripp. 6*9, 96 pages. Download the PDF version (~500KB), or read on…

As my active eye lazes MY GOOD KIDNEY SWELLS & muscles go spastic I cash checks without signing them. I defy traffic directions as put forth by orange-gloved pigs.
   Tammy knew the jungle as well as the back of her lover’s hand. He would strike her courageously when she mouthed off—her   fault & she knew it. He possessed an admirable bamboo toughness & she was grateful each time he demonstrated discipline.
   ”Women and children first,” they said aboard Titanic,
both need firm, yet loving, Christian guidance.
   Jungle gals, plains’ broads, desert beauties need a dose
of masculine roughness. “We’ll whip Fort Ticonderoga into
shape!” The pioneers said enthusiastically. {Enthusiasm’s
made this nation a country: a country of enthusiasts.}
   ”Enjoy these gifts, those I’ve presented the world. You, people made in my image, of star-shine & moon-glow. Easy as easy is I have breathed life into deadened rocks. Tempt & be tempted, slouch & be of crooked stance.” — These words have entered the minds of righteous souls. “It’s not so much the heat as the humidity,” many have said, but they speak no more of it now that change has come, change promised. The guile of some & reverence of many is what makes for folly…{Blah — blasé, shrimps & mussels, corks & styro-plugs, blouses & knapsacks, swim-swam-swum…}…Folly in shapeless hap, breaking ground upon glass, further taxing Euro-socialism…Sometimes when I need a threatening F.B.I. warning telling of civil & criminal punishments I utilize a film discus. Other men would come along poking about commissioning officers within regiment: A happy marriage between uniformity & civility…My stature & full hair of thick head gives me several advantageous advantages over short & stubby folks: #1. I’m first to feel rain on my head & last on my feet. #2. I’m closer to God & further from Satan. #3. My gonads are above the knees.
   Many have said Jesus must be contacted on all things prayer-wise. There was a booklet that said this wasn’t necessary. Written by Friends of Satan, I think it must be reliable.

I FORGIVE YOU MOTHER THERESA
{This poem explores the pain of ego & starvation.}
For the hurtful things you said:
Starving me of love & food,
Kicking me when down.
Oh Mother T, without you, beggary has no relation.
My rice bowl is empty.
You’re so rich it scares me.

THE DEATH OF MOTHER THERESA
It seemed her charity knew no bounds & her
   bottomless pit of selflessness had no bottom.
She gave, gave & then, when you thought she had stopped to
   go to the bathroom or something, … CONTINUE READING

Thru the wires & along waves of air comes this: a hate-filled love story… “Something lurks in air without remedy, wing, nor foot traffic. Somebody has the knowledge denied mystics & monks, sitting, staring, picking up the pace. We’ve built roads for that…”

Love Turns Hateful: A free e-book by Richard Thripp. 6*9, 96 pages. Download the PDF version (~500KB), or read on…

MY IDLE LOVER, unemployable due to spinal cord injury, unreliable due to drug addiction, unabashed from former stint as street-walking prostitute. Her milk flowed with great ease like at the dairy. She could fill small buckets, but now her small-bucket-filling days are done as she’s in the hospital for accidental surgery.
    “I’m full of hateful intent. I’m now denying Israel’s right to exist & belittling the worth of World War I!”
    “How dare you concern yourself with such things better let to the media & military!” She said militarily.
    “I’ll say what I want. Who are you to boss me around, what with your trim, woman’s body & hair all about your shoulders the way it hangs?”
    “My grandfather nearly participated in W.W.1 & Israel is okay as far as I’m concerned!”
    “Too bad for you!” I said hurtfully, when suddenly she began to bawl rythmically. “Bawl all you want. You’re merely paying with a credit card from hell!”
   ”What’s that mean?” Sobbily she queerified.
    “It means that no matter the cost to my personal or perpetual safety issues I will prove my point on #1. Israel & #2. The global war of 1918.”
    Well, that was all she needed to bear. She jumped on me like Lloyd George, knocking out my u-boats & tricking my dignitaries. Within weeks she would attack my finances: her & the baby, from which I would not soon recover.
    “I’ve lapsed upon the comfort of your languid love, one time too often, more so is to pity the climate. I see you now from what we’ve begun: a blackened love affair far afield with smoldering embers of broiled meat unattended too long,” I told her without interruption as she was drowsy.
    “Although drowsing, I understood each poetical & beautiful word my witty lover. Our dreams, our quivering bodies & inflammations tell the tale of our lovers’ love,” she spake wide-eyed & conscious.
    “Yes, dear one, it’s your wide-eyed consciousness that guides our derelict ship to calm harbor.”
    “Of course — the rapids represent lonely endeavour, the hasp & lock of desire…”
    “Let us go from here yonderward afore the hour fades.”
    “Touch my brisket clever one, feel the handles abounding my girth.”
    …And Spanish people have lots of girlfriends. Who remembers the difference, these days, twixt Andy Devine & Gabby Hayes? Marta Kristen & Bernard Getz? People accidently killed in 1973?
   Once I gets to prison things’ll be different. I’ll sail thru the front doors determined & demanding. Guards will be fumb ducked in what is their confused state as I organize things to my liking. Not since Al Capone or Frank Sinatra or with any sawn-off runt has such fear been spread amongst real men. “I don’t want my love held captive baby or my toilet seats stainless steel.”
    How dare you photograph me in the nude! For God’s
sake put some clothes on! Because being awake is
just part of not going to sleep.
    King George said bemusedly to his name-sake
George of Washington, just to piss him off:
“You’re no longer a colony — you’re a nation!”
    Washy, who was home-spun & half deaf, & who angered
crazily, became chinned in his pissed-offedness.
“Urination?! I’ll kill you for that!”
   ”Jesus died for my pins…Pins? Why’d he go do a fool thing
like that?” {St. Denis, protect me from headaches & rage.}
   Love limps, hoses, splits, rounding shit-houses, road courts, beneath luxurious folds of under-bellies, atop Old Smokey — hate-filled & frilly — shunning lanterns, bespeaking itself, pre-dating China, limbering solid-muscle showings, willingly weak, wilful & hickory’d, abounding, budding, promulgating, washing red & burrowing cracks…it’s a flowering betrayal in my love garden, my jardin amor, with the Knossian & Kiowa, amongst the stamens & pistils, flow-flower of the back-stab. Flat traps flush with surface tension are to be avoided amongst the Creeks & Algonquins…because: Acne is like anything: a box of paper clips, Oprah’s yacht, toe nail fungus.
    The amputees were restless … CONTINUE READING

WRITER OF BOOK: RICHARD THRIPP — no military experience, no college education, night high school graduate 1979.
   Richd. Thripp doesn’t use coupons, separate trash, read newspapers, marry within race, eat meat, care about trees & manatees, believe in imminent climatic catastrophe, love Hitler, kill many snakes, follow sports, attend church, worship Prince Jesus, dye hair, limp, shack up, believe in registering nurses, submit to surgery, discourage children from smoking cigarets.

The Man with Two Eyes: A free e-book by Richard Thripp. 6*9, 96 pages. Download the PDF version (~500KB), or read on…

Not since somebody else somewhere wrote a book has one squat brought such relief, joy — a Scripture unscripted, a play-bill, menu — the just & the scattered particles of eyes formed in orbits,
The Man with Two Eyes.

2 elephants having a good time…
PASSING GAS STATIONS
{Like a fat man struggling to breathe.}
That night, after hurting her eyes watching elephants, Karen completely forgot how to love a man, but had an itch to make it with the next elephant. “Oh Kevin, why can’t people be more like large animals?” And, under and elephantine moon, she & Kev explored the mysteries of jungle passion plus English-language studies: why anger & danger don’t rhyme & other such suchness.
    “Knife has a k in it,” Kevin observed, “yet homosexualism amongst men precludes women.”
   ”I know,” Karen talked like a Norfolkian, “take Nor-Fuck,
it’s a glorious place because everybody wants to say it
instead of the pronoun.”
    “You are exciting like a skinny woman in undies.”
    “Yes,” agreed Karen, “as when General Sadam Hussein al Takriti replaced President Bakr in 1979.” — She awoke from her longish nap only to be punched in the head by her brother’s uncle. He had huge, heavy fingers from several years of hammer-juicing. His toes were fleshy & stained from tobacco use. Kevin sought the comfort of a short, fattened woman whilst Karen preferred the stillness of a tall, gainly man. Together they’d have trouble adjusting to the new sizes adopted by belt manufacturers. Karen enjoyed nightly loving whereas Kevin was more prone to drinking & driving. Children would be a part of their futures as impregnations. One can sit for hours on ass without regard to compounds, explosions, fish strips or shaven women. Kevin knew his lungs’ capacity & couldn’t enjoy cancer fearlessly. Karen ate from a bowl provided by the u.n. as her country was bombed to smithereens.
   Next: King of the underwearers! Proctitis: inflammation of the anus & rectum… author’s notation: thank God I ain’t got that.
    Karen knew that with the price of ground chuck it would be impossible to serve meat to Kevin every day. Perhaps a substitute would hood-wink him after a few beers? Luridly she plied him with liquor till his tongue was good for nothing. “Care for a burger, Honey?”
    “Sure, I’d like a honey burger!” Said he half-looped.
    Karen prepared the fakest one every & presented it to
Kevin with a plate of potato chips.
    Kevin, who was barely able to chew, gnawed the imposter
meat like a dog would a tree trunk. “Sheeze,” he said, half
soused, “this ‘meat’ is something.”
   ”Something?” Karen thought. “Does he suspect? And I don’t like the way he framed meat in single quotes.”
    “Got any more honey? Burger?” Kevin slurped half-assed.
    “Sure,” Karen said with a smile that was winsome yet heartless.
    Later when nobody was looking she vowed to never mock Kev with trick meat again. She prayed no damage was done to their abiding love. {After scratching like a monkey for so long she decided to wash her hands & resume scracthing.}
   I felt the terror in her Peruvian hands as she forced upon me erotic message techniques imported from Mexico. “Roll over,” she said in Spanish. “¿Donde esta mi padre?” She asked in English.
   ”Listen to me thoroughly,” I warned, “Peru’s stable junta is about to be over-thrown by operatives of America’s secret police.”
    “Oh Jesus! But what can I do to thwart them?”
   ”Thwart them? La-dee-da thwart them!” It was then as I made fun of her usuage of thwart that events took a sudden verge towards the violent and Peru fell into the Peruvian hands of aroma therapists. {”Oh God: aroma therapists!”}
    “From now on it’s only pants for me!” —
Katharine Hepburn at Dyke Palace, 1963.
    Stephanie had known Charles, or Chuck, since the olympic gender verifiers plumbed her tubals. He’d known nothing more gratifying than prostatic hyperplasia so it seemed reasonable to test the water before doing anything further “olympic.”
   As a cosmetics’ chief’s responsibility starts with a cream base Chuck was aware of layering & cystic action {neither compliments the other}. He loved Stephanie from nodule to papilla, ink to wax, from hanging baskets to mossy crevasse. Nobody knew, or cared to, the lovely parting gifts olympickly-minded. It’s of geographic certitude as all suspect… all the holes in all the heads, the darkness, O the organized effort!

HER ENORMOUS INCOME … CONTINUE READING

"3 FEET FROM MY KIDNEY is my other kidney being readied for kidney-transplantation surgery. I'm nervous yet grateful that my kidney'll be filterin' somebody elses piss for a change."

Perfect bound, 6*9, 96 pages.

Buy a copy for $1.00 (slashed from $5):

Or, order by snail-mail. USA only. Send a check for $3.50 ($1 plus $2.50 shipping & handling) to:

RICHARD THRIPP
PO BOX 4061
ORMOND BEACH FL 32175-4061

Still not convinced? Read these exciting excerpts:

THE F STATE
Since my start in Florida, the F state, 23 years ago, I've seen many changes. The F state isn't just a place to hang my hat anymore, it's the place I call home, sweet citrussy home. I've laid down roots, all my marriages (to "women") have occurred here, one of my "wives" gave birth to a "child" in Daytona Beach (which is now part of Florida). I remember governor Graham & his crazy attempt to force the good people into homo-erotics & governor Martinez's move to compel us to be ear-tagged & radio-collared. I still opine painfully at Gov. Buddy McKay's attempt to Kim Chee the cremains of Lawton Chiles and bleed heartily at Janet Geronimo Toilet Reno's slip into palsy—gagging on emissions of principal air pollutants in the U.S., 1987-96, and finding joy in frosty northern tail what pours into the F state from Godless Canada.

I ADMIRE YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE A MIDGET ... CONTINUE READING