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:: Trent Reker ::

Bald monkeys with a ray gun | Bebop blues in a busted stereo speaker | God and f*cking | The news from Priceline

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Trent Reker was born on a train in the Arizona desert. He's been dead and has a cool scar across his neck to prove it. Waking from a 24-hour coma, doctors told his family he'd never be able to converse intelligibly. It's arguable that they were right. Two months later he put together his first sentence, "Can I have pickles?"

Living in New Orleans when Katrina blew in, Trent walked the city four days with his little family praying, eventually hitchhiking back roads along the Mississippi. As they sobbed, he dragged them along toward inevitable rescue.

::: Publishing History :::
Reactor Press (San Francisco, CA) published " shoot forth thunder " - August, 2007
Swallow Magazine (San Francisco, CA) published " poor writer, beautiful stripper " - May, 2007
20 Dissidents (Raleigh, NC) published - " June through August 2005 in New Orleans " - August, 2006
20 Dissidents also published "beer bubble blowjobs for fun and respect" and "beer bubble blowjobs for fun and disrespect" - March, 2007
Atonal Apples (Long Island, NY) published " untitled 05.13.05 " - June, 2006
Border Senses (El Paso, TX) published " summer " - May, 2006

::01:02:08::

::: Bald monkeys with a ray gun :::

she bares her breasts a sex goddess
waking center much to do with marketing
resist the rage of ignorance driving television news with stories created by network opinions
talking everywhere
about a mass grave in Maryland
Disneyland for my penis
for sixteen or sixty grand to change our lives dramatically
money and dirt
unmarked sarcophagus
drastic Transylvania sweatlodge transhallucinaction highway number nine
where he stood before the tank and still
nothing changed

corporate interest cheese wiz drip drop
where did all the American ingenuity go?
when empires crumble a cream pie joke
sprout forward thinking lowering expectations and where the hell was your stereo made anyway?
struggling between curses and prayers for the damned if you don’t

consume and be safe

one more line for the corruption of society comprised of you

how many hungry stomachs before the revolution?
how many homeless and ignored?
how many lies and death and greed and theft?

revolution defining automobile brands and internet stock market bull market sh*t trades
a revolution means dead people

first thing we do is kill all the marketing managers
bomb the ad agencies
politicians can only speak to cameras
disappear
monsters under a child’s bed
forgotten.

don’t worry about lawyers
they’ll run and hide and return dressed in t-shirts and baseball caps
that’s how we’ll know to send them to the fields and work on their knees
carrot juice and blowjobs
revolution?
violence for profit

planet rage against us
ipod drakula
made in china
worldwide sandstorm drowning seas
pasty-faced fat man in a Lexus fantasy
skin so white fluorescent blood flow poptime disease eyes
what do you care?
my empty malt liquor bottle is aimed at your teeth

torn between love and killing I must choose the path of enlightenment
even if I could carve into a granite floor this haiku of blood to flow through my hunter’s knife
my neck is sliced again
by deeds and dream:

the sky cracked above
transfixed by change as clouds fall
you look down in fear

did you see the surrealist cringe?

shh
the commercial is over.

Written by: ~ Trent Reker

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