this television has come
for blood
stagnant and steaming
buzzing with the noise
of multiplying mosquitoes.
your eyes never close
their veins constricted
and pupils dilated
and the muscles
long forgotten
wasting upon themselves.
the commercials boom
ever louder ever louder
from the speakers long sense blown.
and the verbs reverberating
hypno-tonic seduction
and manufactured dreams.
and you have become
the somnambulist
drifting in and out
from one flashing screen to the next-
the white noise ever present
like a pulse inside your mind.
all caution abandoned
and warnings ignored
you are now the apathy
and all your hedonic escapism
and all your prime-time thoughts
exist only in your television.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Communist.
lately I've been getting so tired
before right o'clock.
Your sighs heave and high
by the foot of my feet
just to meet me some sweet-
just to meat me some sweet.
Now my toes are returning
from months of departure
leaving the body a cold
lonely numb, and your
patient is manic
aggressive and panicked
so don't let him out of your sight.
Now my eyes fill with sleep just
seduced by her grief
and can't wait to get out of this cold.
But the hold on the fold
of your tri-folded page
won't just tell them they're all in my space.
before right o'clock.
Your sighs heave and high
by the foot of my feet
just to meet me some sweet-
just to meat me some sweet.
Now my toes are returning
from months of departure
leaving the body a cold
lonely numb, and your
patient is manic
aggressive and panicked
so don't let him out of your sight.
Now my eyes fill with sleep just
seduced by her grief
and can't wait to get out of this cold.
But the hold on the fold
of your tri-folded page
won't just tell them they're all in my space.
121307
My eyes become sleepy
and hands numb with cold
-this is vacation.
"VACATION", I'm told.
Your bell is attentive
bring my gaze to your gate
but writing in water-
my uncommon fate.
Your pacing has driven,
me miles and miles.
And words go unspoken
as luggage just piles.
My heart beats too steady
untrue to my course
-and shaky feet stumble.
She left him by force.
Your missing already
the shape of my face-
the touch of my grace-
the way that I taste-
my presence in place-
of your cold Winter lonely,
holding tightly my trace.
My burrowing deeply,
hidden moments in yours,
and one last kissed longing,
prevents closing these doors.
and hands numb with cold
-this is vacation.
"VACATION", I'm told.
Your bell is attentive
bring my gaze to your gate
but writing in water-
my uncommon fate.
Your pacing has driven,
me miles and miles.
And words go unspoken
as luggage just piles.
My heart beats too steady
untrue to my course
-and shaky feet stumble.
She left him by force.
Your missing already
the shape of my face-
the touch of my grace-
the way that I taste-
my presence in place-
of your cold Winter lonely,
holding tightly my trace.
My burrowing deeply,
hidden moments in yours,
and one last kissed longing,
prevents closing these doors.
scissor sisters.
"
Is this the return to Oz?
The grass is dead.
The gold is brown.
And the sky has claws.
There's a wind up man
walking 'round and 'round.
What once was Emerald City's
now a crystal town.
"
Is this the return to Oz?
The grass is dead.
The gold is brown.
And the sky has claws.
There's a wind up man
walking 'round and 'round.
What once was Emerald City's
now a crystal town.
"
Sunday, December 2, 2007
112507
My attempted failures
cover your hands
to drip a stick
between each finger
only to fill a life with safe.
Misfires shooting
dead the pilgrims of the night.
Fingers, grasping
pewter vowels
shines the Heavens.
Black like his
grows the length of your ink and
never, never,
never would she bake
your favorite pie.
Don't rush home now
Sweetheart.
The Benadryl fills the lung.
And never could you
scritch, scritch,
scratching succeed
to protect your hands above.
And fill me with the liquor
sweet, each bottle burns
in memory.
Your eulogy.
cover your hands
to drip a stick
between each finger
only to fill a life with safe.
Misfires shooting
dead the pilgrims of the night.
Fingers, grasping
pewter vowels
shines the Heavens.
Black like his
grows the length of your ink and
never, never,
never would she bake
your favorite pie.
Don't rush home now
Sweetheart.
The Benadryl fills the lung.
And never could you
scritch, scritch,
scratching succeed
to protect your hands above.
And fill me with the liquor
sweet, each bottle burns
in memory.
Your eulogy.
112207
Sleep schedules mixed in with rain
and skin never tasted so sweet
and bellowing laughter,
from all the king's horses
like winter leaves land on their feet.
A night waiter's mystery motive
and sick syrup slides on the tongue
and Faerie of Kisses
deep breathes in the dreams
like fingers caught deep in the lung.
For full moons shine ever so sweetly
and light a foot path for the night
while frozen bare toes
upon fogged windows
just add to a daydreamer's plight.
and skin never tasted so sweet
and bellowing laughter,
from all the king's horses
like winter leaves land on their feet.
A night waiter's mystery motive
and sick syrup slides on the tongue
and Faerie of Kisses
deep breathes in the dreams
like fingers caught deep in the lung.
For full moons shine ever so sweetly
and light a foot path for the night
while frozen bare toes
upon fogged windows
just add to a daydreamer's plight.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Fighting Your W's. (Your roommate is home.)
i like our jokes..
which ones?
all of them??!
Do you want to:
1. Take a walk
2. Stay right here
3. Take a bath
4. Go to my room?
5. Get crunk
??
1. I think its too cold
2. Maybe, what do I know?
3. Think so? Getting clean is good.
4. Your room sucks. (You're an asshole)
5. We should mix that with all of the above.
!!
which ones?
all of them??!
Do you want to:
1. Take a walk
2. Stay right here
3. Take a bath
4. Go to my room?
5. Get crunk
??
1. I think its too cold
2. Maybe, what do I know?
3. Think so? Getting clean is good.
4. Your room sucks. (You're an asshole)
5. We should mix that with all of the above.
!!
120107
the seeds of this fruit
are looking like jewels
so make me a necklace
sweetened with kisses
in the candle's exhaustion
smoke curls through the distance
nostalgia
reminiscent of birthdays.
and what am I?
college kid.
lover.
friend.
covered in dirt.
the oils from my skin.
a poet-not a poet.
a child-not a child.
you never asked me,
"take care of me"
and I heard it just the same.
my bathtub full of secrets
my bedroom plagued hysteria
and snow falls, a tease, to the spirit
while mold makes you sick
and sugar fills the lungs
and you can't shake the smell
from your head.
are looking like jewels
so make me a necklace
sweetened with kisses
in the candle's exhaustion
smoke curls through the distance
nostalgia
reminiscent of birthdays.
and what am I?
college kid.
lover.
friend.
covered in dirt.
the oils from my skin.
a poet-not a poet.
a child-not a child.
you never asked me,
"take care of me"
and I heard it just the same.
my bathtub full of secrets
my bedroom plagued hysteria
and snow falls, a tease, to the spirit
while mold makes you sick
and sugar fills the lungs
and you can't shake the smell
from your head.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
florescence
Blue jeans- unbuttoned- slide down the hips
fluoride burns clear on my teeth
and night ticking phantoms
all sneak past the shadows
desperate to pull down the strings of my mind
When dreams fade to conscious
impatient for splendor
and mystic and butter
to spread down my thigh
The mirrors lie breaking
show me broken
girls broken. Dreams
split shards just to fit in the frame.
And again, my daylight stolen
like innocence
dancing.
Masked in a peppermint swirl.
fluoride burns clear on my teeth
and night ticking phantoms
all sneak past the shadows
desperate to pull down the strings of my mind
When dreams fade to conscious
impatient for splendor
and mystic and butter
to spread down my thigh
The mirrors lie breaking
show me broken
girls broken. Dreams
split shards just to fit in the frame.
And again, my daylight stolen
like innocence
dancing.
Masked in a peppermint swirl.
11/20/07
mirrored reflection
reads five o' clock
tick-tick my lover/tick-tick my lover
stand up appraising
the pink of the lip
and floss-
as it pulls through the teeth
that's five A.M. morning
another one's lost
and how many hours/and sunshining haze
of tomorrow
are already gone?
reads five o' clock
tick-tick my lover/tick-tick my lover
stand up appraising
the pink of the lip
and floss-
as it pulls through the teeth
that's five A.M. morning
another one's lost
and how many hours/and sunshining haze
of tomorrow
are already gone?
Sunday, November 18, 2007
"One More Night"- STARS
Try as he might he's unable to speak
He grabs her by the hair, he strokes her on the cheek
The bed is unmade like everything is
Dark little heaven at the top of the stairs
Take me like that, ruin it all
Then build it again by the light in the hall
He drops to his knees says please my love, please
I'll kill who you hate, take off that dress, you won't freeze
He grabs her by the hair, he strokes her on the cheek
The bed is unmade like everything is
Dark little heaven at the top of the stairs
Take me like that, ruin it all
Then build it again by the light in the hall
He drops to his knees says please my love, please
I'll kill who you hate, take off that dress, you won't freeze
One more night, that was a good one
One more night, i dreamed it was a good one
One more, one more night, that was a good one
One more night, the end should be a good one
A good one
One more night, i dreamed it was a good one
One more, one more night, that was a good one
One more night, the end should be a good one
A good one
He starts with her back cause that's what he sees
When she's breaking his heart she still fucks like a tease
Release to the sky, look him straight in the eye
And tell him that now, that you wish he would die
You'll never touch him again-
so get what you can
Leaving him empty just because he's a man
So good when it ends, they'll never be friends
One more night, that's all they can spend
When she's breaking his heart she still fucks like a tease
Release to the sky, look him straight in the eye
And tell him that now, that you wish he would die
You'll never touch him again-
so get what you can
Leaving him empty just because he's a man
So good when it ends, they'll never be friends
One more night, that's all they can spend
One more night, that was a good one
One more night, i dreamed it was a good one
One more, one more night, that was a good one
One more night, the end should be a good one
A good one
One more night, i dreamed it was a good one
One more, one more night, that was a good one
One more night, the end should be a good one
A good one
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
A River of Conscious Paranoia
Oh what's the date? A mate for fate-
and now I'm rhyming once again.
My friend forsaken, cold feet taken
breaking all the pigeon hearts.
And legs for dinner,
I'm such a sinner,
but what belief is this you hold?
Wool is warmer, but holds no heat.
And fire blazes to cool my feet.
Why does the body not get along with the body?
the face on fire too selfish to share with the extremities?
And fingers are grasping the voices of the neighbors
just- fight- a little more.
Ice cream and pickled herring is not a dinner
we'd like to share. But this choice-
a privilege while my stomach growls with discontent
and still refuses such sweet and sick.
The shadow of a fluttered lash
reflects the pain of stolen memories-
refusing to be let go.
New shoes will catch my eye, unworthy of mention-
but mentioned all the same.
Pink and green and flowers from the 60's
all blended with my heater crackles
filling my apartment's loneliness.
And why aren't you writing your essay young lady?
Because I miss Julia and all her wilds.
I know without a doubt that these are just motions
like showers and make-up
that all must take place,
but why do they vanish like the ink of a pen
to dry for anyone's taste?
My face is still heated, my body still needed,
and still all my duties are sailing away.
And I wonder if I would think differently
through pen than through dreaming;
or if all of these misfires are just like your love.
and now I'm rhyming once again.
My friend forsaken, cold feet taken
breaking all the pigeon hearts.
And legs for dinner,
I'm such a sinner,
but what belief is this you hold?
Wool is warmer, but holds no heat.
And fire blazes to cool my feet.
Why does the body not get along with the body?
the face on fire too selfish to share with the extremities?
And fingers are grasping the voices of the neighbors
just- fight- a little more.
Ice cream and pickled herring is not a dinner
we'd like to share. But this choice-
a privilege while my stomach growls with discontent
and still refuses such sweet and sick.
The shadow of a fluttered lash
reflects the pain of stolen memories-
refusing to be let go.
New shoes will catch my eye, unworthy of mention-
but mentioned all the same.
Pink and green and flowers from the 60's
all blended with my heater crackles
filling my apartment's loneliness.
And why aren't you writing your essay young lady?
Because I miss Julia and all her wilds.
I know without a doubt that these are just motions
like showers and make-up
that all must take place,
but why do they vanish like the ink of a pen
to dry for anyone's taste?
My face is still heated, my body still needed,
and still all my duties are sailing away.
And I wonder if I would think differently
through pen than through dreaming;
or if all of these misfires are just like your love.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Okay so my poem got LOLed,
and I just couldn't resist.
jade
girl in green
remained across frm me.
i wuz ha… n
she wuz i.
we neva spoke single word;
our eyez consistent… intertwined.
history n destination;
absolute
meaningless entitiez.
ha shinin emerald
peerin through me…
absorbin
scenery behind.
blindness iz giftd
2 those wit eyez uv green.
i waitd 2 catch ha…
2 steal fleetin glimpse.
2 feel neon
electricitee cast
frm glance.
without ha
sea uv thrashin
energy whippin
through my day…
my dutiez fade
blak n whiet…
silent blak.
wtf would i do…
2 lak that overlookin eye??!
without ha wild nature…
forcin me in2
movement… in2 action…
in2 life??!
n so i waitd.
there r treez…
earth… leavez…
growth.
there iz bubblin algae…
shimmerin fairy… thik
canopy lite.
u find darkened wata…
dancin meadows… n then-
ha shinin…
penetratin…
intensitee.
green eyez.
so stunnin u cannot look
n u cannot look away.
summary uv my life.
as i look
across rite-anglez
n sunken heart…
i find those eyez
screamin 2 me.
n yet.
she lookz through
n beyond.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
060406
Jade
The girl in green
remained across from me.
I was her, and
she was I.
We never spoke a single word;
our eyes consistent, intertwined.
History and destination;
absolute
meaningless entities.
Her shining emeralds
peering through me,
absorbing
the scenery behind.
A blindness is gifted
to those with eyes of green.
I waited to catch her,
to steal a fleeting glimpse.
To feel the neon
electricity cast
from a glance.
Without her
sea of thrashing
energy whipping
through my day,
my duties fade
black and white,
silent black.
What would I do,
to lack that overlooking eye?
Without her wild nature,
forcing me into
movement, into action,
into life?
And so I waited.
There are the trees,
the earth, the leaves,
the growth.
There is the bubbling algae,
the shimmering fairy, the thick
canopy light.
You find the darkened waters,
the dancing meadows, and then-
her shining,
penetrating,
intensity.
green eyes.
So stunning you cannot look
and you cannot look away.
The summary of my life.
As I look
across the right-angles
and sunken hearts,
I find those eyes
screaming to me.
And yet.
She looks through
and beyond.
The girl in green
remained across from me.
I was her, and
she was I.
We never spoke a single word;
our eyes consistent, intertwined.
History and destination;
absolute
meaningless entities.
Her shining emeralds
peering through me,
absorbing
the scenery behind.
A blindness is gifted
to those with eyes of green.
I waited to catch her,
to steal a fleeting glimpse.
To feel the neon
electricity cast
from a glance.
Without her
sea of thrashing
energy whipping
through my day,
my duties fade
black and white,
silent black.
What would I do,
to lack that overlooking eye?
Without her wild nature,
forcing me into
movement, into action,
into life?
And so I waited.
There are the trees,
the earth, the leaves,
the growth.
There is the bubbling algae,
the shimmering fairy, the thick
canopy light.
You find the darkened waters,
the dancing meadows, and then-
her shining,
penetrating,
intensity.
green eyes.
So stunning you cannot look
and you cannot look away.
The summary of my life.
As I look
across the right-angles
and sunken hearts,
I find those eyes
screaming to me.
And yet.
She looks through
and beyond.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Pregnant Rages
I cry
for the children of my nation
torn from their mothers
screaming with despair.
Is $22.50 the worth of an infant?
And my child
just a commodity.
I cry
for the grief of the mothers
scarred and bleeding
white hot tears
for the loss of their babies.
Broken lovers
children mothers
For this is not your privilege.
I cry
for a special kind of hatred.
Centered for the blood
from which I came.
A generation, undeniable.
To forgive,
and forget
is the right of the heritage.
for the children of my nation
torn from their mothers
screaming with despair.
Is $22.50 the worth of an infant?
And my child
just a commodity.
I cry
for the grief of the mothers
scarred and bleeding
white hot tears
for the loss of their babies.
Broken lovers
children mothers
For this is not your privilege.
I cry
for a special kind of hatred.
Centered for the blood
from which I came.
A generation, undeniable.
To forgive,
and forget
is the right of the heritage.
110307
Go to sleep now- Baby Doll.
but I'm not tired, I'm not tired.
Like all the socks are never lost.
between the sheets, where they meet the sheets.
Just close your eyes now- a conscious blur.
no I'm too focused, I'm too focused.
Ignore your growling stomach beast.
my eyes are fading, no social failing.
Your eyes too heavy- thoughts all sliding.
and now you are asleep.
but I'm not tired, I'm not tired.
Like all the socks are never lost.
between the sheets, where they meet the sheets.
Just close your eyes now- a conscious blur.
no I'm too focused, I'm too focused.
Ignore your growling stomach beast.
my eyes are fading, no social failing.
Your eyes too heavy- thoughts all sliding.
and now you are asleep.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Your curls are my desire.
I am always late to class.
and I like the tweed that covers your body.
and as strangers I convinced you
to purchase those shoes.
and now I know how to cook lasagna
in my dishwasher.
But isn't that more wasteful?
Hours fly like scenery
panels past my window
your window, mine
the city will share it's landscapes.
October is the darkest month.
lights flicker with the wind.
stitch a seam to bind our friendship
Breaking thread and breaking nails.
I'm sure you think I'm watching you.
Pasting your face
in lines of ink.
Because I think you're thinking me.
But seldom do these thoughts cross line
for line the lines are travelers.
Making up the twists of our day.
But my lines, unruly; refuse
the straight and structured
Insist and twist and
just can't stop their dancing.
and I like the tweed that covers your body.
and as strangers I convinced you
to purchase those shoes.
and now I know how to cook lasagna
in my dishwasher.
But isn't that more wasteful?
Hours fly like scenery
panels past my window
your window, mine
the city will share it's landscapes.
October is the darkest month.
lights flicker with the wind.
stitch a seam to bind our friendship
Breaking thread and breaking nails.
I'm sure you think I'm watching you.
Pasting your face
in lines of ink.
Because I think you're thinking me.
But seldom do these thoughts cross line
for line the lines are travelers.
Making up the twists of our day.
But my lines, unruly; refuse
the straight and structured
Insist and twist and
just can't stop their dancing.
Monday, October 15, 2007
101607
I'd like to tickle
sweetness
and all the laughter in between.
I'd like to tickle.
From vices merge
embarrassments
a silence admitted.
that we're all in too deep.
But I'd like to tickle
ecstasy
and tease the danger in between.
Yes I'd like to tickle.
From tear-stains and
mascara cheek-stained
my face says everything.
cause we've all seen too much.
Yet I'd like to tickle
infatuation
and balance obsession in between.
Oh yes, I'd like to tickle.
From dry-mouthed silence
blood caked thickness
caught up in my throat 'cause
we've all screamed for far too long.
So, dear, I'd like to tickle
distraction
sweet embracing in between.
For how, we'd love to tickle.
sweetness
and all the laughter in between.
I'd like to tickle.
From vices merge
embarrassments
a silence admitted.
that we're all in too deep.
But I'd like to tickle
ecstasy
and tease the danger in between.
Yes I'd like to tickle.
From tear-stains and
mascara cheek-stained
my face says everything.
cause we've all seen too much.
Yet I'd like to tickle
infatuation
and balance obsession in between.
Oh yes, I'd like to tickle.
From dry-mouthed silence
blood caked thickness
caught up in my throat 'cause
we've all screamed for far too long.
So, dear, I'd like to tickle
distraction
sweet embracing in between.
For how, we'd love to tickle.
101507
She should be sleeping
again with the sleeping sleeping
the tired eyes are waking to eat
the brownies in your kitchen.
She walks along the broken glass
the fallen flask
the watered mask
and smiles at the tracks of blood
walk pacing past your floor.
She thinks the thoughts of darkened skies
repeats the thoughts of haunting friends
with unfriendly thinking striking through
the deepness of their passions.
And this is not the flow of thought
she stops her thought
to clean her thoughts
for thinking thoughts of reckless thought
is far too dank to mention.
And where have all the back pains gone
the golden statues of the sun
and where have all your judgments lain
to pass the sunlit sunshine sun
and give it to the broken.
The sickened sweet sticks to my tongue
to give the taste of this regret
the thoughts of delicate raw delight
to plague the brain with gifts unwet.
But why's the pain of night returned
to steal the sweetened glucose dreams
and take my mind to bodies burned
to rip my flesh off at the seams
and now I'm ranting constant conquer
purpose full of discontent
and now I'm screaming conscious jest
to fill your blood with gold unspent.
And how the changes of your tide
will take my soul within your grasp
never to give my life the chance
for freedom feared from frightened fables
preventing mystery foods from tables
and where should the body find this dream
the pulse of strange exotica need
venom flown from taste to bloodstream
again to track cool breath breed
alighting in my catacombs.
again with the sleeping sleeping
the tired eyes are waking to eat
the brownies in your kitchen.
She walks along the broken glass
the fallen flask
the watered mask
and smiles at the tracks of blood
walk pacing past your floor.
She thinks the thoughts of darkened skies
repeats the thoughts of haunting friends
with unfriendly thinking striking through
the deepness of their passions.
And this is not the flow of thought
she stops her thought
to clean her thoughts
for thinking thoughts of reckless thought
is far too dank to mention.
And where have all the back pains gone
the golden statues of the sun
and where have all your judgments lain
to pass the sunlit sunshine sun
and give it to the broken.
The sickened sweet sticks to my tongue
to give the taste of this regret
the thoughts of delicate raw delight
to plague the brain with gifts unwet.
But why's the pain of night returned
to steal the sweetened glucose dreams
and take my mind to bodies burned
to rip my flesh off at the seams
and now I'm ranting constant conquer
purpose full of discontent
and now I'm screaming conscious jest
to fill your blood with gold unspent.
And how the changes of your tide
will take my soul within your grasp
never to give my life the chance
for freedom feared from frightened fables
preventing mystery foods from tables
and where should the body find this dream
the pulse of strange exotica need
venom flown from taste to bloodstream
again to track cool breath breed
alighting in my catacombs.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Saturday, October 6, 2007
for you.
Tonight I caught you.
You were caught catching.
Caught glimpsing.
I caught that glimpse
leaving trace-
path across your gaze.
A fearing fear of terrific.
Terrifying frightened
simple stated reaction.
Please do not tell me
my eyes are not lies.
The twisted twirling tales
of deceitful tattle children.
Baby, please
don't you tell me
you have let all the monsters
come out and eat your pretty
pretty face.
For you are the most beautiful.
All the beauties never grasp
the sweetness; curving lip lines and
the flutter butter lashes.
And now my fear sincerely.
To scream an echo fade.
I hope to hope a lonely hope,
and pray I have not lost you.
Oh baby, please.
Do not let them eat you.
Devour face
and creamy posture
and blushing body
and curving mental mystery allure.
Please do not let them eat you.
They don't understand
the concepts to savor
and like the amphetamines
will only leave you bare.
Broken lover; hollow body,
they are all here for beauty
stealing all your profits.
Your grace will shed
off pounding, pounding,
and groaning, moaning
hunger pains
beauty loosing
and all the while the
monsters here are fat to gain.
So tell me please again, Love.
Tell me sight creates mistakes.
Tell me what I caught was simple
butterflies for catching
Salmon pink and snatching
the molten brownies scratching
to rip the fat from off your frame.
Please tell me I'm mistaken.
Do not starve the planet bare in.
Desire for bodies such as yours.
Do not; feed the beasting
and steal off bite for bite
all the love you had to offer.
all the love you had to offer.
You were caught catching.
Caught glimpsing.
I caught that glimpse
leaving trace-
path across your gaze.
A fearing fear of terrific.
Terrifying frightened
simple stated reaction.
Please do not tell me
my eyes are not lies.
The twisted twirling tales
of deceitful tattle children.
Baby, please
don't you tell me
you have let all the monsters
come out and eat your pretty
pretty face.
For you are the most beautiful.
All the beauties never grasp
the sweetness; curving lip lines and
the flutter butter lashes.
And now my fear sincerely.
To scream an echo fade.
I hope to hope a lonely hope,
and pray I have not lost you.
Oh baby, please.
Do not let them eat you.
Devour face
and creamy posture
and blushing body
and curving mental mystery allure.
Please do not let them eat you.
They don't understand
the concepts to savor
and like the amphetamines
will only leave you bare.
Broken lover; hollow body,
they are all here for beauty
stealing all your profits.
Your grace will shed
off pounding, pounding,
and groaning, moaning
hunger pains
beauty loosing
and all the while the
monsters here are fat to gain.
So tell me please again, Love.
Tell me sight creates mistakes.
Tell me what I caught was simple
butterflies for catching
Salmon pink and snatching
the molten brownies scratching
to rip the fat from off your frame.
Please tell me I'm mistaken.
Do not starve the planet bare in.
Desire for bodies such as yours.
Do not; feed the beasting
and steal off bite for bite
all the love you had to offer.
all the love you had to offer.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
traditional.
too intent on reading
not walking
I ingest a couple gnats
they are setting
all the weeds aflame.
On fire.
how strange a thought
to burn all undesirables
not walking
I ingest a couple gnats
they are setting
all the weeds aflame.
On fire.
how strange a thought
to burn all undesirables
100107
Cat man stares
your drifting soul
with nicotine fix
and slight seemed interest
Cat man captures
invisibility
and purring snickers
your head avoids
Cat man begs for
a kindness stranger
than blindness stranger
than guilty. For
Cat man knows your
purpose shifted
and all your secrets
live in his eyes
your drifting soul
with nicotine fix
and slight seemed interest
Cat man captures
invisibility
and purring snickers
your head avoids
Cat man begs for
a kindness stranger
than blindness stranger
than guilty. For
Cat man knows your
purpose shifted
and all your secrets
live in his eyes
dial 9 to get out
Fall traces slide on past my windows
The chatter of the end of day
Evergreens will always be so
Until their voices pass away.
And nothing, nothing takes more notice
than statements shared, of reckless thought
But brothers, sisters, your standards broken
Allow your iron fence to rot.
And great dark skies forever stretching
Eyes settled; clouded vacant stare
and shared with tiny wobbled fledgling
Alight on maiden's face so fair.
The chatter of the end of day
Evergreens will always be so
Until their voices pass away.
And nothing, nothing takes more notice
than statements shared, of reckless thought
But brothers, sisters, your standards broken
Allow your iron fence to rot.
And great dark skies forever stretching
Eyes settled; clouded vacant stare
and shared with tiny wobbled fledgling
Alight on maiden's face so fair.
swimfan
definition: overload
the screaming, creaming
honey sold
and breaking grins
of deep respect
from sharing burdens;
stand erect.
And blanket statements
that cut you short
defend the droplets
when friends consort.
What change the
summer's sun can make
bleach out the darkened
haze forsake
Shine on lifesavers
your cause is just
with little profit
and constant lust
Recognition bleeds
the soul for more
'cause that's not
what we do this for.
the screaming, creaming
honey sold
and breaking grins
of deep respect
from sharing burdens;
stand erect.
And blanket statements
that cut you short
defend the droplets
when friends consort.
What change the
summer's sun can make
bleach out the darkened
haze forsake
Shine on lifesavers
your cause is just
with little profit
and constant lust
Recognition bleeds
the soul for more
'cause that's not
what we do this for.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
They always told me
I should be; breathing.
experiencing, sunlit skins and
hopes floating alongside pollens.
I should be; waking.
embellishing, long anticipation
of a place to call my home.
I should be; living.
encapturing, joy in C Minor
allowing Dark Humor and Sinister through.
I should be; writing.
expressing, black ink dreams
motor reflex transferred through representation.
I should be; laughing.
enveloping, each beloved spirit
gathering pretty things of which to keep hold.
and I should be; crying.
emoting, tears brought falsely
only to shed truth inside of isolation.
experiencing, sunlit skins and
hopes floating alongside pollens.
I should be; waking.
embellishing, long anticipation
of a place to call my home.
I should be; living.
encapturing, joy in C Minor
allowing Dark Humor and Sinister through.
I should be; writing.
expressing, black ink dreams
motor reflex transferred through representation.
I should be; laughing.
enveloping, each beloved spirit
gathering pretty things of which to keep hold.
and I should be; crying.
emoting, tears brought falsely
only to shed truth inside of isolation.
092307
She is sitting here anxious.
Unable to comply with the
pressing need of her
frozen feet restless.
Procrastination pulsing down her neck
to focus centered in her knees.
The tapping verbs reverb
through polish buffed filth and tile.
She is sitting, witting
filling her mind sporadic with
humorous thoughts
discontented disconnect.
She fills her lungs with fauna waste
and cracks a grin to absolute thankfulness.
Her eyes circle in non-darting pattern
to observe her intangible mental creation.
She wants to know your heritage
but always finds apprehension
from social reciprocation.
She wants to know why we are so ashamed
of our for-bearings and for-mothers
that such inquiries have grown impolite.
She extends her toes into imagination,
releasing lactic acid and tension from the unfocused.
She wants to know how apathy has
become the rhythm of her societies environment.
Unable to comply with the
pressing need of her
frozen feet restless.
Procrastination pulsing down her neck
to focus centered in her knees.
The tapping verbs reverb
through polish buffed filth and tile.
She is sitting, witting
filling her mind sporadic with
humorous thoughts
discontented disconnect.
She fills her lungs with fauna waste
and cracks a grin to absolute thankfulness.
Her eyes circle in non-darting pattern
to observe her intangible mental creation.
She wants to know your heritage
but always finds apprehension
from social reciprocation.
She wants to know why we are so ashamed
of our for-bearings and for-mothers
that such inquiries have grown impolite.
She extends her toes into imagination,
releasing lactic acid and tension from the unfocused.
She wants to know how apathy has
become the rhythm of her societies environment.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
091907
Quite unsatisfied by thought for thought
she clenched her teeth against bone flesh rot.
The dripping core of dream play lines
to break the plot over all their behinds.
And they all knew the child spanking,
for sparing violence was needless thanking.
An infant born into his sin
must first be broken, then built again.
For how shall we teach the spirit love
without the anguish passed from above?
The baby's laughing, screaming cry
will force insomnia's dreams to fly
to rescue innocence clasping hand
forgotten how to understand
why purring cats sleep on the feet
and why the hate will love defeat.
But don't forget the tortured souls,
still lost to search the page's folds.
she clenched her teeth against bone flesh rot.
The dripping core of dream play lines
to break the plot over all their behinds.
And they all knew the child spanking,
for sparing violence was needless thanking.
An infant born into his sin
must first be broken, then built again.
For how shall we teach the spirit love
without the anguish passed from above?
The baby's laughing, screaming cry
will force insomnia's dreams to fly
to rescue innocence clasping hand
forgotten how to understand
why purring cats sleep on the feet
and why the hate will love defeat.
But don't forget the tortured souls,
still lost to search the page's folds.
0918-1907
Tonight I am sleeping but
the problem is that I'm
not quite sleeping
like Science of Sleep/ing
dream-sleep Waking Life.
Breathing exhales and inhales of
meditating toe stretches
that are meant to relax
the ever restless mind
like Chamomile tea
for the insomniac.
My past is living
crawling through my pores
to remind me of
the recollections
I almost got away from.
And now I have been alive
for so many hours. My
stomach barks a growling ache
like all of my human sorrows.
My present fights for
immediacy, for
the gratification
of too many sweets
and procrastination.
While, my future sits
awaiting frantic dread
and raw gnawed fingers
that never had a chance to shine.
And the loom of tomorrow is already casting shadows
covering my eyes with anxiety
quickened breath and adrenaline.
Yet why is the ever flowing mind
wide awake as the sun child
splashing in the crashing
of excitement, while
the body suffers consequence
filled with not-caffeine
and inward churning discontent.
Both aware of this dire need
for regeneration; recuperation.
A rest filled night of
eye twitching stories
and thought-breaking dreamland.
But why is this journey too difficult?
Why have the paths been
beaten impassable and
forced the body
resorting a fate
so repetitious of the Donnor's?
I am not sleeping, but
yet dream to be sleeping
and cannot comprehend
the lack of body sleeping.
the problem is that I'm
not quite sleeping
like Science of Sleep/ing
dream-sleep Waking Life.
Breathing exhales and inhales of
meditating toe stretches
that are meant to relax
the ever restless mind
like Chamomile tea
for the insomniac.
My past is living
crawling through my pores
to remind me of
the recollections
I almost got away from.
And now I have been alive
for so many hours. My
stomach barks a growling ache
like all of my human sorrows.
My present fights for
immediacy, for
the gratification
of too many sweets
and procrastination.
While, my future sits
awaiting frantic dread
and raw gnawed fingers
that never had a chance to shine.
And the loom of tomorrow is already casting shadows
covering my eyes with anxiety
quickened breath and adrenaline.
Yet why is the ever flowing mind
wide awake as the sun child
splashing in the crashing
of excitement, while
the body suffers consequence
filled with not-caffeine
and inward churning discontent.
Both aware of this dire need
for regeneration; recuperation.
A rest filled night of
eye twitching stories
and thought-breaking dreamland.
But why is this journey too difficult?
Why have the paths been
beaten impassable and
forced the body
resorting a fate
so repetitious of the Donnor's?
I am not sleeping, but
yet dream to be sleeping
and cannot comprehend
the lack of body sleeping.
091807
My sultan of insanitary sanctuary; you.
My stubborn sulking cherry lolli'; you.
My climber's hands caressing tickled vertebrate; you.
You are my mindplay stapled dreams.
Dreams of sunlight mirrored pupiled love.
Dreams of darkness passioned breathing love.
Dreams of daynight nightday insomnia love.
Love flows elixir through my blood.
My stubborn sulking cherry lolli'; you.
My climber's hands caressing tickled vertebrate; you.
You are my mindplay stapled dreams.
Dreams of sunlight mirrored pupiled love.
Dreams of darkness passioned breathing love.
Dreams of daynight nightday insomnia love.
Love flows elixir through my blood.
From the Vaults of My Cousin.
Blemished
I adore mistakes
The way they slip off my tongue in that baby blue way
Innocent
Sometimes I consider
Sliding these blemishes in between the letters
Of the words I write
Just so nothing of mine will be perfect
And I can savor the taste of wasting away in this cliché English language
(but I know you would come after me with
big vocabulary and dictionaries saying I’m
sinning against the god(s) of literature)
So instead I rub my tongue down my bloody knees
Licking away the “accidental” trip I took on concrete
Some people say I’m one step away from insanity
But I like to think of it as flawed ecstasy
-Ashlin
I adore mistakes
The way they slip off my tongue in that baby blue way
Innocent
Sometimes I consider
Sliding these blemishes in between the letters
Of the words I write
Just so nothing of mine will be perfect
And I can savor the taste of wasting away in this cliché English language
(but I know you would come after me with
big vocabulary and dictionaries saying I’m
sinning against the god(s) of literature)
So instead I rub my tongue down my bloody knees
Licking away the “accidental” trip I took on concrete
Some people say I’m one step away from insanity
But I like to think of it as flawed ecstasy
-Ashlin
Sunday, September 16, 2007
WARNING: SREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS
My bed is covered in shit.
Not shit. Trash.
Not trash. Litter.
I despise those who litter more than
all of those who litter
because I know we all do it.
I spent hours shifting through the wilderness
just to bring out six bags of your litter.
How dare you steal my child wilderness
with your bottles shattered and
downstreamed plastics.
I despise you for throwing your
cigarette on the ground and
what the fuck goes through your head
that makes you think you can just leave your
Starbucks mug on the pavement?
This is human laziness at its most distasteful exhibition.
Fucking humans.
If we have the means to create the waste then
why can't we take the responsibility to clean it up?
He said "Damn democrats, suing everyone for everything."
I scream, 'Damn republicans, not taking responsibility for ANYTHING!'
not out loud but the reverberations
echoed from ear to ear throughout my hallowed skull.
Because I am just a pretty blonde without the possibility of
a thought underneath her golden strands and hazel eyes.
I started to twirl my tresses just because you called me a dumb blonde.
What the fuck, who acts that way?
You were supposed to be my best friend.
You did it to your sister too,
like we could help our heritage any more than you?
And what about the fishes and the lead sinkers and the fork on the bottom of the lake?
And you think I can't lift anything just because I am female.
I will prove to you my strength with all the power held
deep within my narrow limbs.
Spiteful this child shows you she is stronger than she looks.
I AM STRONGER THAN I LOOK DAMNIT!
I can take the hits!
You have no idea what I can take.
Don't short change me my share of trouble!
I can handle it, I promise you.
Don't you dare tell me what I can and cannot carry.
Don't you think I can test those waters myself?
I am so tired of you telling me what I can and cannot do.
Just because you are a woman,
and you can't bear the weight,
means nothing to what I can bear.
This stream is flowing out of control now,
the waters crashing faster until
the shores and the dams and the freeway tresses
can no longer hold the gushing layers of icy flowing rant.
Here comes the flood Victoria because that is what we will call you.
Why can't I turn off my mind?
Do I really think any soul will read this?
Just because I write it?
I often find myself far too arrogant.
This is the first stream of consciousness I have attempted
straight to type,
bypassing the pen and ink and papertrees.
I find it an inexact science incorrect and improbable
because my fingers like to auto-correct and
then they patiently pause for the right thought/word/symbol/letter/vowel/pigeon!
Just three more days and I am coming home boys.
Just four more days and I am coming home boys.
Thursday. And now I sit tweedle thumbed
pretty sitting always waiting
for Thursday.
Not shit. Trash.
Not trash. Litter.
I despise those who litter more than
all of those who litter
because I know we all do it.
I spent hours shifting through the wilderness
just to bring out six bags of your litter.
How dare you steal my child wilderness
with your bottles shattered and
downstreamed plastics.
I despise you for throwing your
cigarette on the ground and
what the fuck goes through your head
that makes you think you can just leave your
Starbucks mug on the pavement?
This is human laziness at its most distasteful exhibition.
Fucking humans.
If we have the means to create the waste then
why can't we take the responsibility to clean it up?
He said "Damn democrats, suing everyone for everything."
I scream, 'Damn republicans, not taking responsibility for ANYTHING!'
not out loud but the reverberations
echoed from ear to ear throughout my hallowed skull.
Because I am just a pretty blonde without the possibility of
a thought underneath her golden strands and hazel eyes.
I started to twirl my tresses just because you called me a dumb blonde.
What the fuck, who acts that way?
You were supposed to be my best friend.
You did it to your sister too,
like we could help our heritage any more than you?
And what about the fishes and the lead sinkers and the fork on the bottom of the lake?
And you think I can't lift anything just because I am female.
I will prove to you my strength with all the power held
deep within my narrow limbs.
Spiteful this child shows you she is stronger than she looks.
I AM STRONGER THAN I LOOK DAMNIT!
I can take the hits!
You have no idea what I can take.
Don't short change me my share of trouble!
I can handle it, I promise you.
Don't you dare tell me what I can and cannot carry.
Don't you think I can test those waters myself?
I am so tired of you telling me what I can and cannot do.
Just because you are a woman,
and you can't bear the weight,
means nothing to what I can bear.
This stream is flowing out of control now,
the waters crashing faster until
the shores and the dams and the freeway tresses
can no longer hold the gushing layers of icy flowing rant.
Here comes the flood Victoria because that is what we will call you.
Why can't I turn off my mind?
Do I really think any soul will read this?
Just because I write it?
I often find myself far too arrogant.
This is the first stream of consciousness I have attempted
straight to type,
bypassing the pen and ink and papertrees.
I find it an inexact science incorrect and improbable
because my fingers like to auto-correct and
then they patiently pause for the right thought/word/symbol/letter/vowel/pigeon!
Just three more days and I am coming home boys.
Just four more days and I am coming home boys.
Thursday. And now I sit tweedle thumbed
pretty sitting always waiting
for Thursday.
The condition of being seduced.
It would be quite impossible to get to me tonight.
I stacked a barricade of all the precious materialistic barriers.
Why don't you shop yourself some lovers?
Tonight my self and my pen play darkness games
of seduction and strip tease.
Lines flow deep and passion
of first kisses and nerves
of sex talk with your parents in the next room.
Tonight the ink flows hot like
sweat and saliva slipping from
metal to paper, like
tongue to flesh.
No
you cannot touch me tonight.
This is a moonrise of
vocabulary orgasms and
sentenced to endless literature tantra.
The ideas slipping in a quiver
of momentary pause-thought.
And the created mention escapes
like a stalled moan
that all efforts could not contain.
The black lines growing, throbbing
thick steaming with mindful evolution.
Threatening to debut the emerging body
tremors of ecstasy pleading immersion.
No
there is no invitation to party-crash the
body rolling
taste licking
nimble biting
limbs entwined
with nails digging
scratching to grasp
the soul beneath
the flesh.
The endless loving
muscles aching with begging.
The tingle of extremities, the
solace of deep impassioned poetic
letter for letter
connecting as bodies and souls
and spirits and complete
vulnerable communion
gifting completeness.
No
it would be quite impossible for you to get to me tonight.
For my written verse and I
hold the begging curse so,
Dear, please lock the door.
I stacked a barricade of all the precious materialistic barriers.
Why don't you shop yourself some lovers?
Tonight my self and my pen play darkness games
of seduction and strip tease.
Lines flow deep and passion
of first kisses and nerves
of sex talk with your parents in the next room.
Tonight the ink flows hot like
sweat and saliva slipping from
metal to paper, like
tongue to flesh.
No
you cannot touch me tonight.
This is a moonrise of
vocabulary orgasms and
sentenced to endless literature tantra.
The ideas slipping in a quiver
of momentary pause-thought.
And the created mention escapes
like a stalled moan
that all efforts could not contain.
The black lines growing, throbbing
thick steaming with mindful evolution.
Threatening to debut the emerging body
tremors of ecstasy pleading immersion.
No
there is no invitation to party-crash the
body rolling
taste licking
nimble biting
limbs entwined
with nails digging
scratching to grasp
the soul beneath
the flesh.
The endless loving
muscles aching with begging.
The tingle of extremities, the
solace of deep impassioned poetic
letter for letter
connecting as bodies and souls
and spirits and complete
vulnerable communion
gifting completeness.
No
it would be quite impossible for you to get to me tonight.
For my written verse and I
hold the begging curse so,
Dear, please lock the door.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
090507
I sit here sipping you
only to peer into
the bubbles that gathered
on the edge of you
strung like pearls, dancing
on the rim of your liquid
only to peer into
the bubbles that gathered
on the edge of you
strung like pearls, dancing
on the rim of your liquid
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
090507
The utter agony of ecstasy.
Anticipate the building release.
Beg for completion.
Press for satisfaction.
Pray that your body just can't handle.
The utter agony of ecstasy.
Anticipate the building release.
Beg for completion.
Press for satisfaction.
Pray that your body just can't handle.
The utter agony of ecstasy.
Monday, September 3, 2007
090307
Why am I the one to bear
your oral bloating and irregularity?
Your fixated plague of diarrhea
sliding off your tongue?
How are your senses so
dead to the atrocity you speak
that your lip fails to even
curl in displeasure
from your foul fermenting speech?
your oral bloating and irregularity?
Your fixated plague of diarrhea
sliding off your tongue?
How are your senses so
dead to the atrocity you speak
that your lip fails to even
curl in displeasure
from your foul fermenting speech?
090207
You are so out of my league.
but I am so alone here and
I hate the solitude.
I fear aloneness with
myself and
my fantasies. And
this house is so empty without you.
And my sheets are too foul and pink
so let's sleep above them-
but then the comforter
scratches at your perfection.
And Buffalo Springfield tells me to stop.
but I just can't hear them through
the go and go and go and
the blood is ringing in my ears and
it reminds me of when he slapped you so hard
you almost lost that side of sensory perception.
Thank God for modern medicine
or to this day you wouldn't hear me from this side.
And now Cake whispers sweet temptations.
Dripping love seduction
rich and melting into my ears.
Weight is always my last word.
Gravity pulls deeper into the mattress.
Sinking me down into the sheets of
Jersey knit and sinful secrets.
I still smell your sweat in my fibers.
And lick your taste off my lips.
You are so out of my league.
but somehow tonight
I rub the bruises
swollen with last night's memories.
Give in to the weight.
but I am so alone here and
I hate the solitude.
I fear aloneness with
myself and
my fantasies. And
this house is so empty without you.
And my sheets are too foul and pink
so let's sleep above them-
but then the comforter
scratches at your perfection.
And Buffalo Springfield tells me to stop.
but I just can't hear them through
the go and go and go and
the blood is ringing in my ears and
it reminds me of when he slapped you so hard
you almost lost that side of sensory perception.
Thank God for modern medicine
or to this day you wouldn't hear me from this side.
And now Cake whispers sweet temptations.
Dripping love seduction
rich and melting into my ears.
Weight is always my last word.
Gravity pulls deeper into the mattress.
Sinking me down into the sheets of
Jersey knit and sinful secrets.
I still smell your sweat in my fibers.
And lick your taste off my lips.
You are so out of my league.
but somehow tonight
I rub the bruises
swollen with last night's memories.
Give in to the weight.
last 090207 night.
Why do we fear them?
Creatures under the bed,
Monsters in your head,
Blood-soaked demons walking like the dead?
Moment waking
Sleeping, baking
Dream Creating
Rise thick mind-play yeast.
Appendages frozen
Death Ice holds them
Foot stand the rigor chosen
Reaper hold no breath
to cast the mist arrival death
Blink away the haunting phantom
Heavy dreaming never chant them.
Creatures under the bed,
Monsters in your head,
Blood-soaked demons walking like the dead?
Moment waking
Sleeping, baking
Dream Creating
Rise thick mind-play yeast.
Appendages frozen
Death Ice holds them
Foot stand the rigor chosen
Reaper hold no breath
to cast the mist arrival death
Blink away the haunting phantom
Heavy dreaming never chant them.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Fix.
I don't want to be your sex,
your glamor, your beauty.
I don't want to be your
killer thighs or
pouting lips,
your pert round breasts
or thinner hips.
I don't want to be your sex.
I don't want to be your longer lashes,
your knock out body-
your perfect ten,
keep it for yourself.
He told me that women don't
shower- don't
shave- don't
primp- don't
appeal
for the purpose of
avoiding interaction.
I tell him
get it straight
-that I don't do these things
for sole attraction.
I shave my legs,
sometimes-usually-when I feel it.
It has nothing to do with you.
My legs find themselves hairless
when I desire
silken smooth sensations
between my sheets
and my skin.
I shower,
most days-weeks-days,
so I can smell myself fresh,
cleansed, natural.
To feel the steamed sensations
of broken hot-rock falls
cascading down my
head-to-toe,
caressing my every freckle.
I primp,
always.
Check myself,
mascara, liner, lotion, gloss.
Fix my hair and paint my nails;
brush, rinse, floss.
And believe me,
this has nothing to do with you.
I appeal
for the selfish exhilaration
the rush of desire.
I feel waves of attention
whether attraction is genuine
or a happy fantasy of my ego-
My fix is delivered either way.
In all truth, if I know I am appealing,
pealing layers out to sun,
that is all that matters.
I don't have to interact
with anyone.
I look hot for me.
So face it.
I don't want to be your bombshell.
I don't want to be your sex.
I just want to live
amongst Mimosa flowers
and color laden skies.
To snuggle silken kittens and
play on soft bare skin.
Dance along heaven-lit clouds and
ride my bike to school.
Stop trying to fix me
I am not your fix.
your glamor, your beauty.
I don't want to be your
killer thighs or
pouting lips,
your pert round breasts
or thinner hips.
I don't want to be your sex.
I don't want to be your longer lashes,
your knock out body-
your perfect ten,
keep it for yourself.
He told me that women don't
shower- don't
shave- don't
primp- don't
appeal
for the purpose of
avoiding interaction.
I tell him
get it straight
-that I don't do these things
for sole attraction.
I shave my legs,
sometimes-usually-when I feel it.
It has nothing to do with you.
My legs find themselves hairless
when I desire
silken smooth sensations
between my sheets
and my skin.
I shower,
most days-weeks-days,
so I can smell myself fresh,
cleansed, natural.
To feel the steamed sensations
of broken hot-rock falls
cascading down my
head-to-toe,
caressing my every freckle.
I primp,
always.
Check myself,
mascara, liner, lotion, gloss.
Fix my hair and paint my nails;
brush, rinse, floss.
And believe me,
this has nothing to do with you.
I appeal
for the selfish exhilaration
the rush of desire.
I feel waves of attention
whether attraction is genuine
or a happy fantasy of my ego-
My fix is delivered either way.
In all truth, if I know I am appealing,
pealing layers out to sun,
that is all that matters.
I don't have to interact
with anyone.
I look hot for me.
So face it.
I don't want to be your bombshell.
I don't want to be your sex.
I just want to live
amongst Mimosa flowers
and color laden skies.
To snuggle silken kittens and
play on soft bare skin.
Dance along heaven-lit clouds and
ride my bike to school.
Stop trying to fix me
I am not your fix.
082607
You are one of those aren't you?
Eyes rolling deep into your skill.
Hands shaking wet with anticipation.
Tongue split snakelike,
beckoning the curious victim.
Ora, a milky darkness,
too thick to make out your manipulations.
You are one of those aren't you?
Filed teeth gnashing,
hiding spit frothing greed lust.
Back curling, flinching, recoiled
from the truth that sunlight brings.
My stomach churns; curdled memories
just to pass by our history.
For I was the fool-driven child
you dug your claws into.
You are one of those aren't you?
My skin still healing and here you are
to peel off scabs from my flesh.
And as the blood begins to appear, dripping,
sliding down my spine.
The memories rising, boiling
up my throat and threaten
to purge all over my feet.
You are one of those aren't you?
And I can see your spiteful grin
beneath those shaded eyes,
for you know that your simple presence
reminds in me
that I had once joined the beasts.
And was one of those, too.
Eyes rolling deep into your skill.
Hands shaking wet with anticipation.
Tongue split snakelike,
beckoning the curious victim.
Ora, a milky darkness,
too thick to make out your manipulations.
You are one of those aren't you?
Filed teeth gnashing,
hiding spit frothing greed lust.
Back curling, flinching, recoiled
from the truth that sunlight brings.
My stomach churns; curdled memories
just to pass by our history.
For I was the fool-driven child
you dug your claws into.
You are one of those aren't you?
My skin still healing and here you are
to peel off scabs from my flesh.
And as the blood begins to appear, dripping,
sliding down my spine.
The memories rising, boiling
up my throat and threaten
to purge all over my feet.
You are one of those aren't you?
And I can see your spiteful grin
beneath those shaded eyes,
for you know that your simple presence
reminds in me
that I had once joined the beasts.
And was one of those, too.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
082407
Grease fire.
So probably a shower.
Sitting on the roof.
Eyes darting;
line for line,
side to side.
I don't want to see him.
Garble music.
And how do you never
confuse that for knocking?
It's good to see you smile.
You have no idea how hard it is
for me not to take care of you.
They are not Skinwalkers.
And I should never even write that.
A constant state of deja vu.
Eyes cast off in distant thought.
Just happen to cross your gaze.
I don't want to hit your cat.
She had two uteruses.
One night stand. No-
it wasn't like that.
You tell me; "Surely,
they all think we slept together."
On a technicality, I guess we did.
Apart together.
Together apart.
You in your blanket,
me in mine. Or
they just dont think at all.
She is going to make it.
He won't hold her back for long.
The plate just broke in your hands?
Sage green.
Conventions.
Intentions.
I've been having an inkling.
But now,
I'm just going to call him instead.
So probably a shower.
Sitting on the roof.
Eyes darting;
line for line,
side to side.
I don't want to see him.
Garble music.
And how do you never
confuse that for knocking?
It's good to see you smile.
You have no idea how hard it is
for me not to take care of you.
They are not Skinwalkers.
And I should never even write that.
A constant state of deja vu.
Eyes cast off in distant thought.
Just happen to cross your gaze.
I don't want to hit your cat.
She had two uteruses.
One night stand. No-
it wasn't like that.
You tell me; "Surely,
they all think we slept together."
On a technicality, I guess we did.
Apart together.
Together apart.
You in your blanket,
me in mine. Or
they just dont think at all.
She is going to make it.
He won't hold her back for long.
The plate just broke in your hands?
Sage green.
Conventions.
Intentions.
I've been having an inkling.
But now,
I'm just going to call him instead.
082407
Everything tastes of nicotine.
Milky tar settles to veil
all of your flavors,
staling your juices and
filling my mouth with smoke.
Intoxicate everything I touch.
I try once more, but still,
your taste is nicotine.
Chocolate cherry nicotine.
Milky tar settles to veil
all of your flavors,
staling your juices and
filling my mouth with smoke.
Intoxicate everything I touch.
I try once more, but still,
your taste is nicotine.
Chocolate cherry nicotine.
The utter amazement of bedhead.
Cape Cod: A Complaint
On the edge of land
shaped like a curled, inviting
finger, I watch snails
make love without anxiety
or release. I do not
approve. The sea slumps
into me with a short
crest and a long, soft
crash. It sounds like etcetera.
It might be a promise
spoken in a language
only water knows, or
not. The only answer to that question
is that question. If only I could be
farther out on the bright Atlantic
near whales full of blubber and joile
de vivre, to flop and sing
in the recondite ocean, to be
a presence that strains it
through harp-like teeth and tastes
sugar in the salt.
- Patrick Martin
Friday, August 24, 2007
082407
I think I would like this house
if there were fifty people living here
as is suggested by the bicycles
and the toothbrushes.
What do you think?
No means no,
Yes means no,
Silence means yes.
Good.
When did we finally sleep?
And thank you for the eggs,
and thank you for the crickets,
and thank you for allowing me
to persuade you
to sleep right here.
I don't sleep well
in strange houses
alone.
Especially,
after the storyline
of the terrifying,
explainable,
unavoidable reality
of shape shifting visions.
And why do I always feel
like the thing I do or
the thing I say around you
is something I have experienced before?
I wish I would sleep more
but failure in breathing
prevents such delusions.
This house smells like my father.
Chirping, smoking, spinning, sweating,
drinking, laughing, hurting, cooking, Father.
if there were fifty people living here
as is suggested by the bicycles
and the toothbrushes.
What do you think?
No means no,
Yes means no,
Silence means yes.
Good.
When did we finally sleep?
And thank you for the eggs,
and thank you for the crickets,
and thank you for allowing me
to persuade you
to sleep right here.
I don't sleep well
in strange houses
alone.
Especially,
after the storyline
of the terrifying,
explainable,
unavoidable reality
of shape shifting visions.
And why do I always feel
like the thing I do or
the thing I say around you
is something I have experienced before?
I wish I would sleep more
but failure in breathing
prevents such delusions.
This house smells like my father.
Chirping, smoking, spinning, sweating,
drinking, laughing, hurting, cooking, Father.
the party mode chatter.
I blame you because I needed this
I blame myself for expecting this
I blame the deep inhalation of secrets and lies
the damp grass of asian pears and
the street lamps that block dreams from sight.
I blame the sore ebb of dissapointing bruises
and the griping hiss of the earwig
hiding small inside my fleshen lobes
awaiting pure enlightenment.
You can never have enough of deliciousness.
I blame myself for expecting this
I blame the deep inhalation of secrets and lies
the damp grass of asian pears and
the street lamps that block dreams from sight.
I blame the sore ebb of dissapointing bruises
and the griping hiss of the earwig
hiding small inside my fleshen lobes
awaiting pure enlightenment.
You can never have enough of deliciousness.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
080807
Taste buds tingle;
preaching, reaching
yearning, burning
senses churning
long to taste you
face to face you
slip my lip inside you
hide beside you
beg to run- my tongue
sweeping weeping
slip, flip pry you
need to try you
tongue dart
teeth part
get inside you
Magnetic, fenetic
Explore, implore
your every pore
needing, pleading,
more, more, more, more!
Squeeze to please you
taunting, tease you
pallate stroke
a wet caress
lusting, busting
need address
want and taunt you
supple haunt you
satisfy you
friction fry you
slip slide fire
sweet desire
deep entreat
my parted mouth
neck to breast to further south
meet, treat, eat me
you complete me
breezing, teasing
moaning greet me.
White heat searing
bright thighs leering
apt tongue parching
curve spine arching
body shiver
full lip quiver
thrusting, lusting
climax busting
Taste buds tingle;
preaching, reaching.
preaching, reaching
yearning, burning
senses churning
long to taste you
face to face you
slip my lip inside you
hide beside you
beg to run- my tongue
sweeping weeping
slip, flip pry you
need to try you
tongue dart
teeth part
get inside you
Magnetic, fenetic
Explore, implore
your every pore
needing, pleading,
more, more, more, more!
Squeeze to please you
taunting, tease you
pallate stroke
a wet caress
lusting, busting
need address
want and taunt you
supple haunt you
satisfy you
friction fry you
slip slide fire
sweet desire
deep entreat
my parted mouth
neck to breast to further south
meet, treat, eat me
you complete me
breezing, teasing
moaning greet me.
White heat searing
bright thighs leering
apt tongue parching
curve spine arching
body shiver
full lip quiver
thrusting, lusting
climax busting
Taste buds tingle;
preaching, reaching.
080807
What is it that you speak of me-
when I am far and gone?
Long and lone, a mild speck
quite distanced from your tongue?
What is it that you speak of me
when I am out of reach?
Lost among the broken waves
preventing accidental breach?
What foul ferments leave your lips
when you are sure
you are secure
and not a work that you might speak
would ever reach my ear?
when I am far and gone?
Long and lone, a mild speck
quite distanced from your tongue?
What is it that you speak of me
when I am out of reach?
Lost among the broken waves
preventing accidental breach?
What foul ferments leave your lips
when you are sure
you are secure
and not a work that you might speak
would ever reach my ear?
Fire and Wine
Kendra: “What do you think of playdough?”
John: “It's the opposite of a penis,
if you leave it alone, it gets hard!”
John: “It's the opposite of a penis,
if you leave it alone, it gets hard!”
080807
Loving lovers
loving lovely love
lovely laden faden
ferment morning
Morn a morning
Morn a morn to morning
loving lovely love
lovely laden faden
ferment morning
Morn a morning
Morn a morn to morning
Haiku
This is a Haiku
that I do not want to write
Summer, Winter, Spring
that I do not want to write
Summer, Winter, Spring
bullshit Haiku poem
save your nature speak away
sex and sweet sweat vowels
cast away melon
nibble, nibble juicy bite
sweet desire gone
skin ink mystery
runes in secret hidden ways
scribe across the flesh
080807
Purrrrr pretty kitty purrrrr
petting wetting purrrrrr.
Invite the sight
to stretch, to bite-
To lick the sick thick
shiver, quiver purrrrrr.
Seduce you, induce you
come hither, whither purrrrr.
Purrrrr kissful blissful purrrrrr.
Stretched back black back
skin stretched, thin sinful grinful
bringing sex, slick sex
bodies arching convex
purrrrrrrrrr.
petting wetting purrrrrr.
Invite the sight
to stretch, to bite-
To lick the sick thick
shiver, quiver purrrrrr.
Seduce you, induce you
come hither, whither purrrrr.
Purrrrr kissful blissful purrrrrr.
Stretched back black back
skin stretched, thin sinful grinful
bringing sex, slick sex
bodies arching convex
purrrrrrrrrr.
Ode to John Gratton
Fuck you John Gratton,
You who they named their battery for-
Fuck you.
Fuck you John Gratton,
You who they named a $48,000 weapon site after
You who lost your life to Indians in 1854,
I hope that they destroyed you.
Fuck you John Gratton,
Second Lieutenant John Lawerence Gratton
who fought the Suoix of Nevada
I bet you called them savages didn't you?
And never stopped to think
that maybe they were the human ones.
Fuck you.
Fuck you John Gratton,
You who is honored by this lifeless mass of concrete,
you who they named it for in June a hundred years ago
I want to smash it all to rubble
and when I'm through;
I'll stand amongst the stones of ruin,
and drenched in sweat scream
FUCK YOU!
I'll scream it so you can hear me John Gratton
FUCK YOU!
And so your shame plagued descendants can
FUCK YOU!
But most of all- John Gratton-
You bastard Second Lieutenant- John Gratton-
I'll scream it so the Suoix of Nevada,
the people who shot you down on August 19, 1854,
the people who's land you raped,
who's lives you stole,
who's hearts you broke can hear me-
FUCK YOU JOHN GRATTON!
You who they named their battery for-
Fuck you.
Fuck you John Gratton,
You who they named a $48,000 weapon site after
You who lost your life to Indians in 1854,
I hope that they destroyed you.
Fuck you John Gratton,
Second Lieutenant John Lawerence Gratton
who fought the Suoix of Nevada
I bet you called them savages didn't you?
And never stopped to think
that maybe they were the human ones.
Fuck you.
Fuck you John Gratton,
You who is honored by this lifeless mass of concrete,
you who they named it for in June a hundred years ago
I want to smash it all to rubble
and when I'm through;
I'll stand amongst the stones of ruin,
and drenched in sweat scream
FUCK YOU!
I'll scream it so you can hear me John Gratton
FUCK YOU!
And so your shame plagued descendants can
FUCK YOU!
But most of all- John Gratton-
You bastard Second Lieutenant- John Gratton-
I'll scream it so the Suoix of Nevada,
the people who shot you down on August 19, 1854,
the people who's land you raped,
who's lives you stole,
who's hearts you broke can hear me-
FUCK YOU JOHN GRATTON!
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
080707
Let go, let go, just let it go.
It makes no difference to them
whether my eyes are boring
hot searing into their spines
casting hateful, harmful spells
Harry Potter style.
Toes clench, not curl, but clench,
it looks so the same
but feels so different.
Curled toes curl
a happy curl
they crunch and furl
from love;
from joy so intense it
escapes to expose
through the toes
in the shoes
in the sand.
No not curls that
curl each time you kiss
my lips
or hips
or tiny ears.
No not curling curly toes
that embody playful children
and dancing fearies
and dew drop butter slugs-spider webs
sunlit and morning dancing.
No these toes are not the embodiment of utter joy,
the kind of bliss that only love can teach to toes.
These are angry toes, spiteful toes.
You have embarrassed these toes,
humiliated these toes
you dirty wench.
My toes find you
selfish
careless
tactless and
bitter.
My toes want to
spit in your coffee and
trip your trip tripping feet
slipping off their high stallion post
to knock the chip chop block
from your bitter little shoulders.
No these toes do not curl.
They clench.
As pure and true as does the love curl curl,
the truth, the honest rage
of the dark, dank furl.
And these toes clench to unleash
what I won't do,
won't say.
Won't let the toes
expose
the boil of my damaged ego-blood-
you bitch
you no good dick
you made me feel this way.
You feel not a hint of shame
for the way you made my toes clench
and
how many other toes are clenching
deep inside their converse?
To hold their feet,
legs,
torso,
shoulders,
neck,
chin,
mouth,
eyes
back from exploding
to unleash the
bitter baking anger
flying arrows
darts of revenge
into your hair.
Clench, toes, clench
you go ahead and clench
and no one can ever
stop your clenching
clenchy
clench.
Anger clench, flinch
knuckles buckle
green nails flashing
trash-talking you
just below my
brick wall stare.
For I will never speak a word,
I'll stare you
ice-cave eyed
'til your soul feels
a mystery chill you
just cannot explain.
No, I won't say a word I'll sit and
polite will mind my mouth.
I was raised to hold
my
tongue,
Yes Ma'am,
Yes Sir,
I am child
I will respect.
Yes I respect you wenchful beast.
I respect you so deep I sit
and hold my curses.
And anger boils deep within
not from your person,
selfish words
but from the utter
disrespect
we caught you toss my way
and
splatter dank across my
unsuspecting
clean early face.
And through that disrespect
my shock
sent shockwaves
down my veins
down my tissue
quiet pulsing
to reach my sassy,
testy, willful toes.
And so I sit repeating,
let it go
just let it go-
While my vengeful
angry
child toes
clench deep and dark
and flip the bird
straight to
your face.
As soon as my toes got wind
of how you treated me
they quickly
sprang up fighting words,
ready to smack your face
to fight
and fend
and defend
the soul that these toes defend.
For although I will move
to remove
my vengeful venom thoughts,
beware
my toes
who never forget
their grudges.
It makes no difference to them
whether my eyes are boring
hot searing into their spines
casting hateful, harmful spells
Harry Potter style.
Toes clench, not curl, but clench,
it looks so the same
but feels so different.
Curled toes curl
a happy curl
they crunch and furl
from love;
from joy so intense it
escapes to expose
through the toes
in the shoes
in the sand.
No not curls that
curl each time you kiss
my lips
or hips
or tiny ears.
No not curling curly toes
that embody playful children
and dancing fearies
and dew drop butter slugs-spider webs
sunlit and morning dancing.
No these toes are not the embodiment of utter joy,
the kind of bliss that only love can teach to toes.
These are angry toes, spiteful toes.
You have embarrassed these toes,
humiliated these toes
you dirty wench.
My toes find you
selfish
careless
tactless and
bitter.
My toes want to
spit in your coffee and
trip your trip tripping feet
slipping off their high stallion post
to knock the chip chop block
from your bitter little shoulders.
No these toes do not curl.
They clench.
As pure and true as does the love curl curl,
the truth, the honest rage
of the dark, dank furl.
And these toes clench to unleash
what I won't do,
won't say.
Won't let the toes
expose
the boil of my damaged ego-blood-
you bitch
you no good dick
you made me feel this way.
You feel not a hint of shame
for the way you made my toes clench
and
how many other toes are clenching
deep inside their converse?
To hold their feet,
legs,
torso,
shoulders,
neck,
chin,
mouth,
eyes
back from exploding
to unleash the
bitter baking anger
flying arrows
darts of revenge
into your hair.
Clench, toes, clench
you go ahead and clench
and no one can ever
stop your clenching
clenchy
clench.
Anger clench, flinch
knuckles buckle
green nails flashing
trash-talking you
just below my
brick wall stare.
For I will never speak a word,
I'll stare you
ice-cave eyed
'til your soul feels
a mystery chill you
just cannot explain.
No, I won't say a word I'll sit and
polite will mind my mouth.
I was raised to hold
my
tongue,
Yes Ma'am,
Yes Sir,
I am child
I will respect.
Yes I respect you wenchful beast.
I respect you so deep I sit
and hold my curses.
And anger boils deep within
not from your person,
selfish words
but from the utter
disrespect
we caught you toss my way
and
splatter dank across my
unsuspecting
clean early face.
And through that disrespect
my shock
sent shockwaves
down my veins
down my tissue
quiet pulsing
to reach my sassy,
testy, willful toes.
And so I sit repeating,
let it go
just let it go-
While my vengeful
angry
child toes
clench deep and dark
and flip the bird
straight to
your face.
As soon as my toes got wind
of how you treated me
they quickly
sprang up fighting words,
ready to smack your face
to fight
and fend
and defend
the soul that these toes defend.
For although I will move
to remove
my vengeful venom thoughts,
beware
my toes
who never forget
their grudges.
080607
Naked swimming
body naked swimming
ocean naked body
ocean body
clear flat ocean ripples
tickles naked nipples
coarsing livid living
life waves caressing life
shining moon lit mother
shining lighting
glowing milk skin
growing silk fin
lower exposed creamy curves
to join black ice life.
body naked swimming
ocean naked body
ocean body
clear flat ocean ripples
tickles naked nipples
coarsing livid living
life waves caressing life
shining moon lit mother
shining lighting
glowing milk skin
growing silk fin
lower exposed creamy curves
to join black ice life.
080607
Morning breaks,
misty child wakes.
Mist thick sickly sweet mist.
Cool heavy water thick mist.
Baby deers dew grass thick.
Hidden caverns dew grass thick.
Baby feet, my feet, cold grass lick.
Ocean laughing waves cold waves lick.
Moaning morning mist waves kick.
Dewey grasses damp feet kick.
Broken morning cold face whick.
Broken sweat drip, cold face whick.
Baby morning, morning rise thick sick.
Heavy breathing, foggy breath thick sick.
Sweat slips sickly, thickly sweet back drip.
Morning dripping, slipping cool drop, drip.
Sleepy shrouded,
morning clouded, breaks.
misty child wakes.
Mist thick sickly sweet mist.
Cool heavy water thick mist.
Baby deers dew grass thick.
Hidden caverns dew grass thick.
Baby feet, my feet, cold grass lick.
Ocean laughing waves cold waves lick.
Moaning morning mist waves kick.
Dewey grasses damp feet kick.
Broken morning cold face whick.
Broken sweat drip, cold face whick.
Baby morning, morning rise thick sick.
Heavy breathing, foggy breath thick sick.
Sweat slips sickly, thickly sweet back drip.
Morning dripping, slipping cool drop, drip.
Sleepy shrouded,
morning clouded, breaks.
Monday, August 20, 2007
082007
I promised to continue; on the 12th I began a plea for sanity's sake that pulled back memories of all of your faces and all of your speeches seeping deep into my open skull. I promised to continue; tomorrow I said tomorrow. The sleep deprived mind and patterns of body pampering stole you from my fingertips. I PROMISED THAT I WOULD CONTINUE TOMORROW. I lied. And now I sit here spitting at my lack of discipline of loyalty to my memories for now they are buried deep within the depths of my day in and day out I have become the apathy I despised upon returning home from a week of utter mind awakening literary bliss. Now I not only miss you, miss my writers haven, miss poetry camp, miss the ocean and the breeze and the open spaces for creation, thought, solitude, conversation and gentle exhalation; now I miss the memories that I have allowed to fade slowly deep into the murky waters of my mind waves, if I dive deep enough I can barely make you out but just before I reach you, just before I can grab your hair and drag you up, surfacing with all your brilliance saving you and sharing you with the world so as never to be forgotten, just as the tips of my nails brush the ends of your hair flowing upward as you sink down into the darkened dreaded dreary deep; the overwhelming warnings of my nearly bursting lungs gasping against themselves overtakes me and I am forced to turn from you. I kick with frightening desperation to return to my daily life before I loose myself in the permanence of forgotten loves. I promised that I would continue tomorrow. Now, tomorrow is so far gone that I cannot even recall its shape or color or texture. And now I want to do you all justice. My stomach kneads and pleads and begs for me to do justice, to write my epilogue honoring my memories but the photographs were all developed for too long and have become blackened beyond repair. What am I going to do with my memories? Should I forget them as I have already, and forget the attempts I have at bringing them back into my mind? No I need you, I need you, like breath and sunrise and haunting dreams I need you. So if I allowed you to slip through the vowels on my page, to hide beneath the tips of my t's or the slithers of my certain sighs, awaiting their opportunity to slip inside my sentences; if I let you pass unacknowledged, understand this- it was not my intent. For I intended to continue my memories tomorrow.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
080607
Seeking jazz or sex or soup
I step into this human loop
to find what I was looking for
A bed, a break, a gentle whore.
To ease my deep and tortured soul
Slide up and down my writer's pole
A poet known, you'll be known too
Through smoke, through sex, through me in lieu
Privilege, power, beats me down
Not yours, but mine, my words they drown
So baby come, just you and me
Just suck me off, I'll set you free
For I'm a poet; so raw, so real
And you can't even start to feel
How deep my literature will go
You just too common, just too slow.
Though I have never felt the wains
Of haunting, constant hunger pains.
And I have never shook all night
Feared for life, awake with fright.
And I have never watched my friends
Come to their violent, murdered ends.
And I have never watched my kin
Both starved and killed for my own sin.
No I don't know what tortures like,
Within my privileged, rebel life
And still, I'm deeper yet than you
Despite where all your past winds blew
My depth will leave you all behind
My tortured, haunted poets mind.
I step into this human loop
to find what I was looking for
A bed, a break, a gentle whore.
To ease my deep and tortured soul
Slide up and down my writer's pole
A poet known, you'll be known too
Through smoke, through sex, through me in lieu
Privilege, power, beats me down
Not yours, but mine, my words they drown
So baby come, just you and me
Just suck me off, I'll set you free
For I'm a poet; so raw, so real
And you can't even start to feel
How deep my literature will go
You just too common, just too slow.
Though I have never felt the wains
Of haunting, constant hunger pains.
And I have never shook all night
Feared for life, awake with fright.
And I have never watched my friends
Come to their violent, murdered ends.
And I have never watched my kin
Both starved and killed for my own sin.
No I don't know what tortures like,
Within my privileged, rebel life
And still, I'm deeper yet than you
Despite where all your past winds blew
My depth will leave you all behind
My tortured, haunted poets mind.
081607
Beat, so beat
can't even rise to move my feet
just beat.
Exhaustion- overwhelming
filling my veins with heavy
thick mud lethargy.
The lids of my eyes
get an extra dose,
insist to close
and body, weighted,
finds absolute comfort
in any rest.
radiate, medicate
and fake the rate
of dreams I bate.
can't even rise to move my feet
just beat.
Exhaustion- overwhelming
filling my veins with heavy
thick mud lethargy.
The lids of my eyes
get an extra dose,
insist to close
and body, weighted,
finds absolute comfort
in any rest.
radiate, medicate
and fake the rate
of dreams I bate.
081507
Your kisses are bitter,
a bitter-sweet twitter.
I long for soft lip kissed,
but find a satisfaction missed.
Where is your soft touch?
To love my lusting skin lush?
Oh please, I beg, just hold me tight
Succulant passions throughout the wild night.
a bitter-sweet twitter.
I long for soft lip kissed,
but find a satisfaction missed.
Where is your soft touch?
To love my lusting skin lush?
Oh please, I beg, just hold me tight
Succulant passions throughout the wild night.
081907
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.
I am a limp body, wasting
rotting on the scurf of humanity;
eyes rolling inside and outside-
mouth frothing cotton candy sewage,
and I am the child that no one ever wanted.
My thoughts are hot boiled, scalding
To penetrate the years of blacked grime;
I am the God-sent child-
too angry to keep your secrets hidden.
Forgive me Father, for you have sinned.
Leading the faeries deep
into their underground haze,
So that they would follow blinded,
sickened- ever retching
their heart filled spirits
into your bowels of holiness?
And I've arrived this starless night
with tongue tolling, spitting, slicing
inside your ever twisting lies.
What have you done with your morals, Father?
You, callous,
scratched them from your bleeding soul
and stretched them screaming,
tight around your bricks of
greed-lust and power-hunger.
Only to drown them, gasping, sinking-
mouths open, close, pupils rolled back in death.
What crimes have you purged
against the children and
the virgin mothers of our generation, Father?
What have you done to your people?
Pleading, they crawl to you
dragging filthy gangrene stumps
and rotting hairless limbs
to your bedside begging-
leaning- moaning- screaming-
Forgive us Father! For we have sinned!
And your constant throbbing
nightly terrors come, never ceasing,
to haunt you day to night to day returning.
These nightmare souls sneak up on you
slither, snake-like, to remind your ear
of those you have forsaken;
Only then to trickle sweat drip slide
cold wet sweat down your spine-
sending chilling recollections
of your devious temptations,
actions devoid and lost of all their scruples
filling up your withered gardens-
growing blood soaked thorns
slowly stealing the life
from the very God you vowed to serve.
Forgive him Father, for he has sinned!
For this man is merely that.
Despite the midnight fabric flowing,
starching down his human flesh.
We instill your power upon this man,
and then expect of him a super-nature.
Dear Lord save him
from his own darkened dreams
that send him, knuckles white,
pacing through his sin corrupted life.
And save his people Lord;
for they allowed their eyes to close
from fear of a lost life alone
in a snarled mass of hate and pain
cold cement and danger-ridden wilds.
Save your people Lord!
From the boiling mass
of rage and power and murder and greed.
Remove the apathy glaze from our dying eyes
and grant us realization.
For the sand is ever falling,
and our time is running thin,
and if the seas, the winds, the blood-lines
do not find an unrelenting motivation for change-
then my sunken fears will be actualized.
And our sins will never find a cavern still standing
for our misconductations to find their rectifications.
So forgive us Father,
forgive us Father,
Forgive us.
I am a limp body, wasting
rotting on the scurf of humanity;
eyes rolling inside and outside-
mouth frothing cotton candy sewage,
and I am the child that no one ever wanted.
My thoughts are hot boiled, scalding
To penetrate the years of blacked grime;
I am the God-sent child-
too angry to keep your secrets hidden.
Forgive me Father, for you have sinned.
Leading the faeries deep
into their underground haze,
So that they would follow blinded,
sickened- ever retching
their heart filled spirits
into your bowels of holiness?
And I've arrived this starless night
with tongue tolling, spitting, slicing
inside your ever twisting lies.
What have you done with your morals, Father?
You, callous,
scratched them from your bleeding soul
and stretched them screaming,
tight around your bricks of
greed-lust and power-hunger.
Only to drown them, gasping, sinking-
mouths open, close, pupils rolled back in death.
What crimes have you purged
against the children and
the virgin mothers of our generation, Father?
What have you done to your people?
Pleading, they crawl to you
dragging filthy gangrene stumps
and rotting hairless limbs
to your bedside begging-
leaning- moaning- screaming-
Forgive us Father! For we have sinned!
And your constant throbbing
nightly terrors come, never ceasing,
to haunt you day to night to day returning.
These nightmare souls sneak up on you
slither, snake-like, to remind your ear
of those you have forsaken;
Only then to trickle sweat drip slide
cold wet sweat down your spine-
sending chilling recollections
of your devious temptations,
actions devoid and lost of all their scruples
filling up your withered gardens-
growing blood soaked thorns
slowly stealing the life
from the very God you vowed to serve.
Forgive him Father, for he has sinned!
For this man is merely that.
Despite the midnight fabric flowing,
starching down his human flesh.
We instill your power upon this man,
and then expect of him a super-nature.
Dear Lord save him
from his own darkened dreams
that send him, knuckles white,
pacing through his sin corrupted life.
And save his people Lord;
for they allowed their eyes to close
from fear of a lost life alone
in a snarled mass of hate and pain
cold cement and danger-ridden wilds.
Save your people Lord!
From the boiling mass
of rage and power and murder and greed.
Remove the apathy glaze from our dying eyes
and grant us realization.
For the sand is ever falling,
and our time is running thin,
and if the seas, the winds, the blood-lines
do not find an unrelenting motivation for change-
then my sunken fears will be actualized.
And our sins will never find a cavern still standing
for our misconductations to find their rectifications.
So forgive us Father,
forgive us Father,
Forgive us.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
081507
damnit.
it's gone, gone,
left my angst alone
to torture the hairs
flying light upon my head.
how could you leave me-
here with such unrelenting
uninspired, just leave me be
need need need need;
damnit.
the horrific realization
that my fears have all been realized,
returning with such burning lust
and finding myself empty.
i cannot think, write, expand, create
a gentle place safe enough for creation sake
cannot find a chance for solitude
to allow my words to burn out inky lines-
damnit.
leave me be, just go, leave, get off my
train of though that just cannot survive,
you are always here nagging thoughts
such desperate need to escape the mind.
the song has been on repeat since last week
the melodies there, the words unclear
and every attempt I make to share it
so that I might find relief is failed.
damnit!
restless is the understated mode of my mood,
and I can't even think to ask for completion
for the baby's up and my mother is up
and the dogs are barking and the need is begging-
DAMNIT!
it's gone, gone,
left my angst alone
to torture the hairs
flying light upon my head.
how could you leave me-
here with such unrelenting
uninspired, just leave me be
need need need need;
damnit.
the horrific realization
that my fears have all been realized,
returning with such burning lust
and finding myself empty.
i cannot think, write, expand, create
a gentle place safe enough for creation sake
cannot find a chance for solitude
to allow my words to burn out inky lines-
damnit.
leave me be, just go, leave, get off my
train of though that just cannot survive,
you are always here nagging thoughts
such desperate need to escape the mind.
the song has been on repeat since last week
the melodies there, the words unclear
and every attempt I make to share it
so that I might find relief is failed.
damnit!
restless is the understated mode of my mood,
and I can't even think to ask for completion
for the baby's up and my mother is up
and the dogs are barking and the need is begging-
DAMNIT!
Monday, August 13, 2007
081007
We don't all live
in your magical fucking world
of eye drops,
flip flops,
drip drops
and sand fleas.
I climb into bed thinking-
some of us have
children,
jobs,
sexy time
and
lap top tip top
don't stop
to punch the clock
blip blop-
I like words that rhyme.
Eyes burning, searing
open close open
slow motion
like life flashing before my eyes
to help save me,
find a way to save me
before I die.
If you are ever falling from a plane
and your shoot doesn't open,
position yourself in THIS position
for the highest chance of survival.
Sleep now.
Sleep now.
Sleep.
in your magical fucking world
of eye drops,
flip flops,
drip drops
and sand fleas.
I climb into bed thinking-
some of us have
children,
jobs,
sexy time
and
lap top tip top
don't stop
to punch the clock
blip blop-
I like words that rhyme.
Eyes burning, searing
open close open
slow motion
like life flashing before my eyes
to help save me,
find a way to save me
before I die.
If you are ever falling from a plane
and your shoot doesn't open,
position yourself in THIS position
for the highest chance of survival.
Sleep now.
Sleep now.
Sleep.
081307
I murdered you last night
you infuriated me
frustrated me
and so I broke your neck.
An act committed with intent
committed without purpose-
can it be called an accident?
I survive within heavy regret.
Your death was slow and painful.
You- attempting to stand
repeating failing efforts
to follow me, pleading- save me.
I don't know how to mend you
only harm you, break you
I yearn for the powers to undo
as I witness you slipping away.
I scream for you, feel ravaging guilt
I want you back.
I didn't get down and snap your spine-
I am more controlled than that.
I grieve your departure.
I waken, hazy bright
forgetting events of the former night.
Come down and see you-
my actions flash flood over me.
I cannot stand, cannot think,
with your bright sad eye stare
so innocent and unaware
the danger that lies within my palms.
I cannot touch you, cannot love you,
my nightly visions warning me
vivid flashbacks haunting me
I will never harm you again.
you infuriated me
frustrated me
and so I broke your neck.
An act committed with intent
committed without purpose-
can it be called an accident?
I survive within heavy regret.
Your death was slow and painful.
You- attempting to stand
repeating failing efforts
to follow me, pleading- save me.
I don't know how to mend you
only harm you, break you
I yearn for the powers to undo
as I witness you slipping away.
I scream for you, feel ravaging guilt
I want you back.
I didn't get down and snap your spine-
I am more controlled than that.
I grieve your departure.
I waken, hazy bright
forgetting events of the former night.
Come down and see you-
my actions flash flood over me.
I cannot stand, cannot think,
with your bright sad eye stare
so innocent and unaware
the danger that lies within my palms.
I cannot touch you, cannot love you,
my nightly visions warning me
vivid flashbacks haunting me
I will never harm you again.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
081207
Laying here I cant help but wonder if I will ever see any of you ever again. I am doubtless to my visions of the Stars but what of the rest of the life blood? You opened my writers heart and now I lay here bleeding onto the sheets with no one here to clean me up. Stop my bleeding, bleeding heart I am so emo, goodness gracious. [Patrick you inspire me, I don't think you ever took my compliments the right way but they were intended.] I miss you all, I miss the energy of a place where I can write, where I can share, where there is no judgement except if I mispronounce Souix or any other word. I just want to rush in the waves and run into the wind and feel the bitter cold against my bare skinned flesh. I want to laugh with you again and hear your sweet sweet music singing mystic melodies into my thoughts. I miss your spinning words inside my mind reaching deep down into my soul, reaching, repeating and resounding verse after verse oh your echoed words have become my curse for I can hear them on repeate like a cheap pop song but never can I reach the words that bring the depth back into my soul. I miss your depth, I feel spite for those around me now who are so out of touch, so unattached, as I was before tasting the weeklong dripping of your literary juices that left me lusting and longing for POETRY. Give me poetry! I want life lived poetically and verse and prose and rhyme and MEANING. I am sick of careless words spouted over the ears of those who suffer them. I am sick of those I interract with speaking without thought of the consequence of their vocabulary. DAMNIT I miss poetry camp; a place where people were open and vulnerable and thoughtful and understanding that everyone is just as vulnerable as you are so DON'T SPIT IN MY MOUTH your nasty skull spit tobacco chew verbs. I need poetic sympathy and hesitation and careful planning of words. I miss you all so much but even more I miss that environment where everything was Fort Flagler and bunkers and bon fires and the Puget Sound and the icey winds and the beaches and the stars scattered momentarily across the blackened night sand. I miss Julia with her openess and undeniable wit, her uncontrollable life and elvin spirit dancing wild across the fire-lit night. I miss Riley with his raw emotions poaring thick across a page to deliver deepness unobtainable by others, his nightlife thrashing passion music filling the night with moshes and stupid uninhibited choices. I miss Erin with her sweet suduction flowing musically sultery into the silenced darkess for everyone will hold their breath to hear what she has to say. Her beauty spoken open sharing love and warmth for every traveling heart to experience. I miss you all, and now I am so tired but I need to list each one of you sharing how I miss your very life. I miss you Stephen, your poetry shockingly humorous and real, carefully chosen words that shot through the thickness of the day and opened my eyes to the reality that things are NEVER what they seem- and Sarah how your gentle voice and unrelenting patience shared Stephen's heart with us with a absolute passion that I have never before seen in a human. Day in and day out I hear your gentle voice repeating, "Breakfast now, breakfast now." I miss that careful melody that played throughout my mind in constant multitude, a consistant reminder not to forget what you have taught to me.
I will continue to share my memories tomorrow...
I will continue to share my memories tomorrow...
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Not sure if I will ever share this with anyone...
Once again I am making an effort at webjournaling. Usually this sort of thing doesn't work for me for very long but... hey. Why not? I have a feeling that if I had a digital camera there would be a lot more posting of intiresting things on here but, you know how it goes. Tonight I am buzzed on caffine from Excedrin and thinking about how I have to be at work pretty early tomorrow. My room is a freaking mess that is driving me INSANE but I haven't had the time/modivation to clean it yet. Also, I have been having internal resistance to anything and anyone I feel is trying to 'control me for my own good'. Even if I know they are right, I have been feeling rebellous. I have been taking steps to make my life better lately; working out, doing homework, doing the right thing even though it's the hard thing; but I still have this feeling of impending doom that tells me that I am neglecting important things and the shit will inevetably hit the fan. Oh well, this is not an uncommon experience in my life. Either everything is wrong or I am waiting for everything to go wrong while really enjoying stuff being right. I would REALLY like to go to Asia next year as well, I really hope that happens but I am just going to wait and see. Whatever my life holds for me- I am open minded and ready for that. A wise man told me reciently: "If you fear the future, fearful things will happen to you." among other wise things. I completely agree and am trying very hard not to fear the future. No apprehension, no fear, just willingness to have a hellova lot of fun. Anyway, enough for now. If I decide to give people this website address and you decide to start reading it- beware, I have a habit of telling people pretty much everything about myself.
Love you all!
Jessie
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
