i fuck
we fuck
together
each other
others
other countries
other planets
our planet
a nation of fucking
a nation of fucks
like animals
fucking
eating
dying
nothing
no soul
no land
nothingness abounds
fucking remains
always
fuck
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
good friends
I feel this slow death creeping
creeping
it touches me with brevity
with sincerity
I feel alone in the crowd
this crowd, right now.
all crowds
and I dream of golden days
shining through dull windows
but i just feel sad
and alone
and know that all grass is brown
everywhere
My stars are fickle
my loves obtuse
all my connections are
nothing more than burning piles
of leaves
destined to turn to ash
red embers
and follow the swirling breeze
home
away
I fight for my hands and feet
but they tell me to
grow up
to understand these impish
insults
but the torpid, latent reaction
of analyzation
is quiet and certain
as death by drowning
and is my weakness.
creeping
it touches me with brevity
with sincerity
I feel alone in the crowd
this crowd, right now.
all crowds
and I dream of golden days
shining through dull windows
but i just feel sad
and alone
and know that all grass is brown
everywhere
My stars are fickle
my loves obtuse
all my connections are
nothing more than burning piles
of leaves
destined to turn to ash
red embers
and follow the swirling breeze
home
away
I fight for my hands and feet
but they tell me to
grow up
to understand these impish
insults
but the torpid, latent reaction
of analyzation
is quiet and certain
as death by drowning
and is my weakness.
untitled, III
glass challenges me
for clarity of transparency.
in this fresh wrought hole,
things fall from the floor.
and in this mind, flailing,
are the beasts used to scaring
any lost enough to see this creature.
Goodness, his most frightening feature.
for clarity of transparency.
in this fresh wrought hole,
things fall from the floor.
and in this mind, flailing,
are the beasts used to scaring
any lost enough to see this creature.
Goodness, his most frightening feature.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
rest in pisces
how can such these empty things
present,
and yet maintain,
such a convincing façade
of depth
and breadth
remaining so
for years on end
deceiving this
once-young
sacrificial lamb
on toward and atop
this cross of stone
heart mended so
often now
as to resemble a newly
skinned baseball
but no heart
now the lingering thread
of that final slipknot
has presently been pulled
yarn curls down
and coils itself
at hoof level now
as mary knits a crown
present,
and yet maintain,
such a convincing façade
of depth
and breadth
remaining so
for years on end
deceiving this
once-young
sacrificial lamb
on toward and atop
this cross of stone
heart mended so
often now
as to resemble a newly
skinned baseball
but no heart
now the lingering thread
of that final slipknot
has presently been pulled
yarn curls down
and coils itself
at hoof level now
as mary knits a crown
________
no scapegoat
this
man of no man
no means
no mean feat
this tumble of miles
myself, burning in effigy
as i smile
drill bit firmly attached
to it's new found
now-created home
bone can be homely
for something so lonely
and pieces of "only"
and "if"s fall so slowly
this
man of no man
no means
no mean feat
this tumble of miles
myself, burning in effigy
as i smile
drill bit firmly attached
to it's new found
now-created home
bone can be homely
for something so lonely
and pieces of "only"
and "if"s fall so slowly
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Liquid Dreamssss
Running and running and running as fast as newton knows i can
my legs feel like jelly and my seemingly sensitive tastebuds are bland.
Where am i going to on this dreary, rainy, trepidacious aft of the noon?
I am headed to the place i know so well- definitely not the dark side of the moon.
But what is it for sure? And how do i know when i get to my mind's bastille?
All i can see is the dark, and my taste for the more sordid of passions is not gentille-the fear of jeckyll is real.
Then i think Flying through personal demons is never the same as trying to find a lost kid.
And burying the photos will leave me feeling like an unexpected encounter with uncle Cid.
So i chase the multi-colored midgets through fields of size 12 tennis shoes suspended in air.
And while picking up bird seed i see the townspeoples help-to me-will ensnare.
The big guy says for me to stop by the door and beg for the right to Die.
But I look over the pink haired tranny and exclaim that all i want is pie.
Thoughts like these make me think of the anthropomorphic authority figures facade.
But who among us can say what of our reality is the truest of the true fraud.
I will Bury these ambiguous steely black clouds into the stitch of time that i hate
AND Dont tell me that everything has meaning or that we are here because of fate.
FUCKERS
my legs feel like jelly and my seemingly sensitive tastebuds are bland.
Where am i going to on this dreary, rainy, trepidacious aft of the noon?
I am headed to the place i know so well- definitely not the dark side of the moon.
But what is it for sure? And how do i know when i get to my mind's bastille?
All i can see is the dark, and my taste for the more sordid of passions is not gentille-the fear of jeckyll is real.
Then i think Flying through personal demons is never the same as trying to find a lost kid.
And burying the photos will leave me feeling like an unexpected encounter with uncle Cid.
So i chase the multi-colored midgets through fields of size 12 tennis shoes suspended in air.
And while picking up bird seed i see the townspeoples help-to me-will ensnare.
The big guy says for me to stop by the door and beg for the right to Die.
But I look over the pink haired tranny and exclaim that all i want is pie.
Thoughts like these make me think of the anthropomorphic authority figures facade.
But who among us can say what of our reality is the truest of the true fraud.
I will Bury these ambiguous steely black clouds into the stitch of time that i hate
AND Dont tell me that everything has meaning or that we are here because of fate.
FUCKERS
Deer tastes goood
well ever since I was twelve
I have loved the sport of hunting
dad and I would go with our guns
and try to get some animals a-jumpin
we left the house at around three
before the sun had even woke
we walked for hours throgh the brush
and neither one of us spoke.
The sun began to break through the trees
and the thaw began to melt through the frost
the birds had started chirping
and the feeling of early morning drowsiness was lost.
My spirits began to warm
and the excitement of the hunt had set in
the nerves were now jumpy
and my eyes scoured the area again and again
It seemed like it had been hours
how long had I been waiting?
I felt compelled to look at my watch
I could feel the prime time fading.
Just then I hear the noise
hopefully a beast lurking nearby
my eyes devour the landscape
but all I see is a bird flying by
It really has been hours now
I feel my conciousness wanting to sleep
the birds chirping, the bees buzzing
I keeping jerking awake,but try to be discreet
Finally! I hear the noise I have wanted
bushes are shaking just at the end of the clearing
I raise my gun to point at the culprit
but my patience is definitely not endearing.
I loose my cool! I get buck fever
firing into the bush without a second thought
the movement stops immediately
as if I hit it directly;there was no fight to be
I get out of my stand
run with all of my body I can demand
I get over to the bush
start to look in and see a hand.
Because I killed this being with a name
panic hits me like a fucking train.
what was I to do? Where was I to go?
I am definitely headed to hell below.
Fuck it I say- just look again
while pulling back the branches of the death bush
I feel the crreep up my spine
as I look upon the spectacle of my fathers head crushed.
The sickness sets in; I get dizzy
I will never be able to live with what I have done
my mother, my sister, brother!
How will they feel when their blood runs.
There is nothing left to do
my fate is sealed in the stupidity of my impulsive deeds
I place my teeth on the cold steel barrel
as I slowly pull the trigger and dream of egyptian reeds.
I have loved the sport of hunting
dad and I would go with our guns
and try to get some animals a-jumpin
we left the house at around three
before the sun had even woke
we walked for hours throgh the brush
and neither one of us spoke.
The sun began to break through the trees
and the thaw began to melt through the frost
the birds had started chirping
and the feeling of early morning drowsiness was lost.
My spirits began to warm
and the excitement of the hunt had set in
the nerves were now jumpy
and my eyes scoured the area again and again
It seemed like it had been hours
how long had I been waiting?
I felt compelled to look at my watch
I could feel the prime time fading.
Just then I hear the noise
hopefully a beast lurking nearby
my eyes devour the landscape
but all I see is a bird flying by
It really has been hours now
I feel my conciousness wanting to sleep
the birds chirping, the bees buzzing
I keeping jerking awake,but try to be discreet
Finally! I hear the noise I have wanted
bushes are shaking just at the end of the clearing
I raise my gun to point at the culprit
but my patience is definitely not endearing.
I loose my cool! I get buck fever
firing into the bush without a second thought
the movement stops immediately
as if I hit it directly;there was no fight to be
I get out of my stand
run with all of my body I can demand
I get over to the bush
start to look in and see a hand.
Because I killed this being with a name
panic hits me like a fucking train.
what was I to do? Where was I to go?
I am definitely headed to hell below.
Fuck it I say- just look again
while pulling back the branches of the death bush
I feel the crreep up my spine
as I look upon the spectacle of my fathers head crushed.
The sickness sets in; I get dizzy
I will never be able to live with what I have done
my mother, my sister, brother!
How will they feel when their blood runs.
There is nothing left to do
my fate is sealed in the stupidity of my impulsive deeds
I place my teeth on the cold steel barrel
as I slowly pull the trigger and dream of egyptian reeds.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Soooo retarded
Girls Really Do Prefer Pink
The attraction may owe to evolutionary influences, researchers say
By Ed Edelson, HealthDay Reporter
Find More
Vaccine Stops Alzheimer's Brain 'Tangles'
Doctors Often Miss High Blood Pressure in Kids
One Surgery Often Enough for Peritonitis
Today's Health News
MONDAY, Aug. 20 (HealthDay News) -- As the mother of a newborn baby girl, Dr. Anya C. Hurlbert wondered why all the products aimed at her daughter tended to have a pinkish tint.
As a professor of visual neuroscience at Newcastle University in England, Hurlbert was able to create a scientifically sound study to determine whether girls really do prefer pink. The answer, as outlined in a report in the Aug. 21 issue of the journal Current Biology, is "yes." Females do have a preference for pinkish colors that males don't.
"We find very clear differences between the males and females we have tested," Hurlbert said. "We haven't yet found any exceptions."
In more formal terms, females in the study showed a preference for the reddish side of the red-green axis of colors, while males didn't. There was no gender difference in preferences on the blue-yellow axis, with everyone tipping toward blue. The study included 208 participants, ranging in age from 20 to 26.
That bluish preference seems natural, Hurlbert said -- blue skies and all that. The female tilt toward pink, she speculated, arose from evolutionary influences millions of years ago. "Females were the ones who gathered red fruit against a green background," she said. "Red is healthy in faces and in fruits."
Cultural influences may have accentuated this natural female preference, she said.
The study Hurlbert did asked several hundred young men and women to make quick decisions on which color they preferred as pairs of colors flashed on a screen in front of them. "We did about a thousand different pairs," she noted.
Some Chinese people were included in the study along with native Britons, to get evidence that the results were true in more than one ethnic group.
While there has been speculation about a possible female preference for pink, "there has been very little hard evidence for sex differences," Hurlbert said. "We now have provided pretty robust and reliable evidence."
Kathy Mullen, a professor of ophthalmology at McGill University in Montreal, said, "I wouldn't be surprised at all that there is a gender difference. That's not to say that it's genetic. It might be a cultural thing."
Color preferences are also known to change with age, Mullen said.
The "nature-versus-nurture" controversy about favorite colors can be tested by studying infants, Hurlbert said. There are plans to use a modified version of the color-choice test in young babies at her institution, she said.
The attraction may owe to evolutionary influences, researchers say
By Ed Edelson, HealthDay Reporter
Find More
Vaccine Stops Alzheimer's Brain 'Tangles'
Doctors Often Miss High Blood Pressure in Kids
One Surgery Often Enough for Peritonitis
Today's Health News
MONDAY, Aug. 20 (HealthDay News) -- As the mother of a newborn baby girl, Dr. Anya C. Hurlbert wondered why all the products aimed at her daughter tended to have a pinkish tint.
As a professor of visual neuroscience at Newcastle University in England, Hurlbert was able to create a scientifically sound study to determine whether girls really do prefer pink. The answer, as outlined in a report in the Aug. 21 issue of the journal Current Biology, is "yes." Females do have a preference for pinkish colors that males don't.
"We find very clear differences between the males and females we have tested," Hurlbert said. "We haven't yet found any exceptions."
In more formal terms, females in the study showed a preference for the reddish side of the red-green axis of colors, while males didn't. There was no gender difference in preferences on the blue-yellow axis, with everyone tipping toward blue. The study included 208 participants, ranging in age from 20 to 26.
That bluish preference seems natural, Hurlbert said -- blue skies and all that. The female tilt toward pink, she speculated, arose from evolutionary influences millions of years ago. "Females were the ones who gathered red fruit against a green background," she said. "Red is healthy in faces and in fruits."
Cultural influences may have accentuated this natural female preference, she said.
The study Hurlbert did asked several hundred young men and women to make quick decisions on which color they preferred as pairs of colors flashed on a screen in front of them. "We did about a thousand different pairs," she noted.
Some Chinese people were included in the study along with native Britons, to get evidence that the results were true in more than one ethnic group.
While there has been speculation about a possible female preference for pink, "there has been very little hard evidence for sex differences," Hurlbert said. "We now have provided pretty robust and reliable evidence."
Kathy Mullen, a professor of ophthalmology at McGill University in Montreal, said, "I wouldn't be surprised at all that there is a gender difference. That's not to say that it's genetic. It might be a cultural thing."
Color preferences are also known to change with age, Mullen said.
The "nature-versus-nurture" controversy about favorite colors can be tested by studying infants, Hurlbert said. There are plans to use a modified version of the color-choice test in young babies at her institution, she said.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Guilty as charged
Culpability is enough and willing
for you
for me
but never for the potentate weeds
they divert to the block
your head
a head
any figure head.
Robespierres
for a new
generation
for you
for me
but never for the potentate weeds
they divert to the block
your head
a head
any figure head.
Robespierres
for a new
generation
Conformity
Leave your name tags in the mud and find what really lives in you
And when you have lost all sense of compassion keep following through
You will see the pale faced stranger with bungee cords on his legs
He tells you that the ever rising tide will keep you from the dregs
Don’t wish for all his glitter and family pets or you will evaporate
Into the clear glass screen that boxes in the huddled masses- they decimate.
Your wishfull thinkers, lemmings and cooper tires bend to the force of the wind.
They are the gasoline to the fire that burns for your creativity to rescind.
Fuck it! That’s what I say as I drink from the tear-shaped pillowcase
And think that fighting for a dodo bird will, to me, never be a disgrace.
So take your drunken preacher another rock to throw in his big cloudy bag.
Make him feel like he owns your boxers and that you will always fly his flag.
And when you have lost all sense of compassion keep following through
You will see the pale faced stranger with bungee cords on his legs
He tells you that the ever rising tide will keep you from the dregs
Don’t wish for all his glitter and family pets or you will evaporate
Into the clear glass screen that boxes in the huddled masses- they decimate.
Your wishfull thinkers, lemmings and cooper tires bend to the force of the wind.
They are the gasoline to the fire that burns for your creativity to rescind.
Fuck it! That’s what I say as I drink from the tear-shaped pillowcase
And think that fighting for a dodo bird will, to me, never be a disgrace.
So take your drunken preacher another rock to throw in his big cloudy bag.
Make him feel like he owns your boxers and that you will always fly his flag.
atlas shrugged, and so did i
i think i should get off her
but we're fun sometimes
and she loves me so
and i don't care
holding her back
so tired of i love you
holding me back
so tired of i love you
but i tried
i didn't lie
i told her what i was
i cannot be held responsible
for this
not this time...
...shit
yes i am
holding her back
so tired of i love you
holding me back
so tired of i love you
so tired
but we're fun sometimes
and she loves me so
and i don't care
holding her back
so tired of i love you
holding me back
so tired of i love you
but i tried
i didn't lie
i told her what i was
i cannot be held responsible
for this
not this time...
...shit
yes i am
holding her back
so tired of i love you
holding me back
so tired of i love you
so tired
brandie wine
hold me until i feel you
or until you feel me
i never asked for you
you just begged for me
i am not what you think you want
or maybe you just want it
maybe you don't care
anyway, i don't.
give it freely
but don't expect me in return
i never lied to you
buy you may have
ok, that's enough
i've had all that you could give me
or all that i could take
so cry some
but don't say i did it
what could you expect
from what you tried to be?
i never told you that
not once indicated attachment
somehow what you think you saw
materialized from this
these little trysts
there was no more,
probably less
so forget about me
now
or until you feel me
i never asked for you
you just begged for me
i am not what you think you want
or maybe you just want it
maybe you don't care
anyway, i don't.
give it freely
but don't expect me in return
i never lied to you
buy you may have
ok, that's enough
i've had all that you could give me
or all that i could take
so cry some
but don't say i did it
what could you expect
from what you tried to be?
i never told you that
not once indicated attachment
somehow what you think you saw
materialized from this
these little trysts
there was no more,
probably less
so forget about me
now
Untitled, II
all too soon
you'll just be
another set
for me and my guitar,
a few beautiful memories,
and another gorgeous scar,
another piece of me missing,
another little bit gone,
and,
all to soon,
i'll be
just some one you used to know.
you'll just be
another set
for me and my guitar,
a few beautiful memories,
and another gorgeous scar,
another piece of me missing,
another little bit gone,
and,
all to soon,
i'll be
just some one you used to know.
turkeyneck
40 and 80
shades of black and blue
on that left arm
jaws sore from the rubber band
some life slipped out each time you withdrew
spending like you've got a job
you never even looked up to see our outstretched hands
yellow and green dreams
send you
then the world is yours
but you fall back harder
each time
shades of black and blue
on that left arm
jaws sore from the rubber band
some life slipped out each time you withdrew
spending like you've got a job
you never even looked up to see our outstretched hands
yellow and green dreams
send you
then the world is yours
but you fall back harder
each time
Ophelia, please don't kill me
i've got a friend and now she scares me so
i love when she's here, and i hate when she goes
i feel so attached and so empty without her
so i swallow down and i'm normal for hours
when will i take her away? if ever
i'm so afraid
that she'll never leave
i'm so attached and tounge tied unto her
she makes me so happy, and i feel so
so fuzzy and warm as long as the blood flows
i long for her while i've not yet reached afterglow
i know this is wrong
and i almost know why
and i almost can care, but really, i don't
i'm so enamored of her and so seldom
can i go for more that an hour with out her
i love when she's here, and i hate when she goes
i feel so attached and so empty without her
so i swallow down and i'm normal for hours
when will i take her away? if ever
i'm so afraid
that she'll never leave
i'm so attached and tounge tied unto her
she makes me so happy, and i feel so
so fuzzy and warm as long as the blood flows
i long for her while i've not yet reached afterglow
i know this is wrong
and i almost know why
and i almost can care, but really, i don't
i'm so enamored of her and so seldom
can i go for more that an hour with out her
Haikus #3 #4 #5 #6
why do i wish so
to be away from all things
i crave only sleep
______________________________
treading so softly
on another's trodden path
i've nothing to add
_____________________________
don't look at me now
i am not quite ready yet
my mask is not placed
____________________________
i'm treading water
sculling hands, softly i float
not far from under
to be away from all things
i crave only sleep
______________________________
treading so softly
on another's trodden path
i've nothing to add
_____________________________
don't look at me now
i am not quite ready yet
my mask is not placed
____________________________
i'm treading water
sculling hands, softly i float
not far from under
heaven
the sun sets every day
the winter comes next month
the butterflies die in the fall
but some think more of us
some say the man, he never dies
his soul is neigh eternal
some say the man shall live throughout
tis little help come funerals
the sun has set again today
his soul, mayhaps, alive
the butterflies died just last week
and here his mother cries
the winter comes next month
the butterflies die in the fall
but some think more of us
some say the man, he never dies
his soul is neigh eternal
some say the man shall live throughout
tis little help come funerals
the sun has set again today
his soul, mayhaps, alive
the butterflies died just last week
and here his mother cries
Haikus #1 and #2
don't tell anyone
i know what i am not now
i am not afraid
___________________________
i can't recall now
the causes of all my scars
but i still see them
i know what i am not now
i am not afraid
___________________________
i can't recall now
the causes of all my scars
but i still see them
untitled, I
trying to feel my days with something:anything
to fill my head
or clear it again
i kno i'll go back to the drugs
fake hugs and shrugs
make up my societal times
my social life
my socital eye isblinded
cataracts and clouds
is it so bad to be senseless?
or should i sense this
as what it is
could this be/ whatever?
not be
something that should or should not
something nice
something weak
something easy
to fill my head
or clear it again
i kno i'll go back to the drugs
fake hugs and shrugs
make up my societal times
my social life
my socital eye isblinded
cataracts and clouds
is it so bad to be senseless?
or should i sense this
as what it is
could this be/ whatever?
not be
something that should or should not
something nice
something weak
something easy
s l e e p
sunburn is the morning,
aloe is the night.
sleep, to me, is opiate.
my drug to fight the light.
so on to dreams of happiness,
or better still, no dreams.
on to darker pastures
of feeling only sleep.
aloe is the night.
sleep, to me, is opiate.
my drug to fight the light.
so on to dreams of happiness,
or better still, no dreams.
on to darker pastures
of feeling only sleep.
A Month Laments Its Failure
twelve of me,
times twenty-two
have yielded such
a rotten fruit.
tis enough summers,
others say,
for one to ripen
pleasantly.
but this one's bitter,
rough in places.
soft and damaged.
many faces
of our failure,
look back neigh.
when at our boy,
we turn an eye.
it looks up
as if to say,
"face the compost;
toss away."
times twenty-two
have yielded such
a rotten fruit.
tis enough summers,
others say,
for one to ripen
pleasantly.
but this one's bitter,
rough in places.
soft and damaged.
many faces
of our failure,
look back neigh.
when at our boy,
we turn an eye.
it looks up
as if to say,
"face the compost;
toss away."
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Torn
all the times you faked
all the times you pretended to reciprocate
everything i didnt really want
but it comes through anyway
holding onto a faux flower
plastic
thats what i have done since genesis
pretending the reality could be designed
by words and labels and stories
but my affinity for language has never
helped
my situation in the now
has never pushed anyone to
bow
bend
accept
trust anything unknown
all the real stars in my
sky
have never been more than
my passions
drowning in temerity
from the opposite pole.
so what? you say
they change with time
change with rings
with moons.
And know its
OK
nothing is as it seems
when only you, to you, are
REAL
the only genuine grain
it seems
But look through the
hourglass
to see that you
are not less but CERTAINLY
not more than just
a name
all the times you pretended to reciprocate
everything i didnt really want
but it comes through anyway
holding onto a faux flower
plastic
thats what i have done since genesis
pretending the reality could be designed
by words and labels and stories
but my affinity for language has never
helped
my situation in the now
has never pushed anyone to
bow
bend
accept
trust anything unknown
all the real stars in my
sky
have never been more than
my passions
drowning in temerity
from the opposite pole.
so what? you say
they change with time
change with rings
with moons.
And know its
OK
nothing is as it seems
when only you, to you, are
REAL
the only genuine grain
it seems
But look through the
hourglass
to see that you
are not less but CERTAINLY
not more than just
a name
Friday, August 17, 2007
Fragment
(a short story)
The images flashed before my eyes. It was like a strobe light of memories seen through some drunken haze. Remnants of the past and future somehow fell together and painted a picture I never wanted to see. I awakened prostrate and began to drag my sweat-covered body off the sand. Something hurt. I didn't remember much. I could feel death creeping behind me in the darkness. Then I heard a scream. I saw myself a million miles away, or maybe ten feet. The sand rushed up to meet my face. Nothingness. Days, hours, seconds. I couldn't tell. The sun burning my neck awakened me. The rawness of the morning chaffed what was left of my broken spirit. I stood and watched my dreams roll in the sand as they fell in saline vessels from the corners of my eyes. I saw the sun. And then, like a choking dream it faded behind some black demon.
Her voice again, a silk thread against my ear. "The eclipse is tomorrow." Her dark hair shone in her soft grey eyes. I could almost see through her. But her words had broken me before and I felt no need to fight again. I knew tomorrow would feel the same, but I played again like we always do. Somehow, the air was electric, almost like love. Or maybe just rain. I held her, pretending I wanted to. I just needed it. Not her. I couldn't see her eyes anymore, a mask of smiles held them hostage. I wanted her to cry just once and somehow melt what served as a face into some semblance of reality. These dreams only served to upset me. Reality hit like a falling tower. I almost pushed her away, but the tide of false happiness overtook my drifting body yet again. She told me she loved me. She loved me, she thought she loved me, maybe she lied and said it. I didn't care. At that moment I was more alone than ever before. "I'll see you tomorrow," I told her with a falsetto smile. "You had better," she said, her synthetic emotions sickening me. She kissed me as I left but I didn't feel it. I had already been absorbed into the mist that had become this little glade. I smelled the rain as I walked to my car. The fog had condensed on it like a crystalline coach from some fantasy. There was still a footprint on the dash from a few weeks before. She. I had almost known her. But with the swiftness of a departing dove she was now gone. I held no ill will for her. It was her choice, her life. But in a way it was my life as well, a part I had freely given her. She wasn't spiteful, rather, a genuine sadness had overcome her. I had let her go.
The sun burning my back awakened me. I now saw the blood on my shirt. My blood? I discarded the shirt like the painful half-memory it was and stepped into the sea. The water stung as I soaked in the brine. It only served to make me dirtier. I no longer bled, if I had bled at all. Even now I could see the thunderheads rolling away atop the foam-crested waves. Had it been that short a time? Now blinded by the shadows and deafened by the silence, I hid in the light. Seeing only the wet road and water. Water. The light began to break around me. Darkness again, my ever present acquaintance. I could see...I could see the truth, I could see it all in this moment. Every locked door I'd ever seen came crashing open filling me with all I could ever need. The light, the light now blinded me from without, not within. In this moment all is well. I reach out to the truth and am welcomed home.
The images flashed before my eyes. It was like a strobe light of memories seen through some drunken haze. Remnants of the past and future somehow fell together and painted a picture I never wanted to see. I awakened prostrate and began to drag my sweat-covered body off the sand. Something hurt. I didn't remember much. I could feel death creeping behind me in the darkness. Then I heard a scream. I saw myself a million miles away, or maybe ten feet. The sand rushed up to meet my face. Nothingness. Days, hours, seconds. I couldn't tell. The sun burning my neck awakened me. The rawness of the morning chaffed what was left of my broken spirit. I stood and watched my dreams roll in the sand as they fell in saline vessels from the corners of my eyes. I saw the sun. And then, like a choking dream it faded behind some black demon.
Her voice again, a silk thread against my ear. "The eclipse is tomorrow." Her dark hair shone in her soft grey eyes. I could almost see through her. But her words had broken me before and I felt no need to fight again. I knew tomorrow would feel the same, but I played again like we always do. Somehow, the air was electric, almost like love. Or maybe just rain. I held her, pretending I wanted to. I just needed it. Not her. I couldn't see her eyes anymore, a mask of smiles held them hostage. I wanted her to cry just once and somehow melt what served as a face into some semblance of reality. These dreams only served to upset me. Reality hit like a falling tower. I almost pushed her away, but the tide of false happiness overtook my drifting body yet again. She told me she loved me. She loved me, she thought she loved me, maybe she lied and said it. I didn't care. At that moment I was more alone than ever before. "I'll see you tomorrow," I told her with a falsetto smile. "You had better," she said, her synthetic emotions sickening me. She kissed me as I left but I didn't feel it. I had already been absorbed into the mist that had become this little glade. I smelled the rain as I walked to my car. The fog had condensed on it like a crystalline coach from some fantasy. There was still a footprint on the dash from a few weeks before. She. I had almost known her. But with the swiftness of a departing dove she was now gone. I held no ill will for her. It was her choice, her life. But in a way it was my life as well, a part I had freely given her. She wasn't spiteful, rather, a genuine sadness had overcome her. I had let her go.
The sun burning my back awakened me. I now saw the blood on my shirt. My blood? I discarded the shirt like the painful half-memory it was and stepped into the sea. The water stung as I soaked in the brine. It only served to make me dirtier. I no longer bled, if I had bled at all. Even now I could see the thunderheads rolling away atop the foam-crested waves. Had it been that short a time? Now blinded by the shadows and deafened by the silence, I hid in the light. Seeing only the wet road and water. Water. The light began to break around me. Darkness again, my ever present acquaintance. I could see...I could see the truth, I could see it all in this moment. Every locked door I'd ever seen came crashing open filling me with all I could ever need. The light, the light now blinded me from without, not within. In this moment all is well. I reach out to the truth and am welcomed home.
Do Not Use Elevators
(a song)
fall, a time of slowly dying, cool and restful we find
our protagonist, prostrate in the peach grove cool and resting,
falling leaves cover his half-naked body
he'd have more clothes if he wasn't half-crazy
and just days ago, maybe wasn't
summer, the months of beauty and life,
between youth and death, among the flowers
and lightning and showers
the peaches still growing, a mind still unfolding
pretty pictures of people
leaving tall buildings,
direct from the top floors,
saves electricity, he thinks it’s pretty
and makes so much sense, and no one is crazy
until someone tells them
(instrumental interlude)
Spring finds our man half hungover from happiness
Of the particular
Kind spring is famous for
Wonderful colors embracing the canvas
Now glowing with glorious
Feelings so fabulous
Future so bright, holds more promise
Than children, who having
Intelligence rivaling Hawking’s,
leave adults gawking at
developed theories
of things still unsolved by
the best minds of elders
but promises die
and children don’t keep so well
so don’t make predictions
(temp drop, chord changes)
Winter is not quite
As cold as his body now
Floating so stiffly
Beneath the permafrost
Delicate beauty
Fed by the sunlight
A few flowers remaining
Despite the temperature
White silence settles
So cold and relaxing
No satisfaction
Is found in her face tonight
Black is so flattering
For such a frown
And a false form of peace comes
And shelters the family
fall, a time of slowly dying, cool and restful we find
our protagonist, prostrate in the peach grove cool and resting,
falling leaves cover his half-naked body
he'd have more clothes if he wasn't half-crazy
and just days ago, maybe wasn't
summer, the months of beauty and life,
between youth and death, among the flowers
and lightning and showers
the peaches still growing, a mind still unfolding
pretty pictures of people
leaving tall buildings,
direct from the top floors,
saves electricity, he thinks it’s pretty
and makes so much sense, and no one is crazy
until someone tells them
(instrumental interlude)
Spring finds our man half hungover from happiness
Of the particular
Kind spring is famous for
Wonderful colors embracing the canvas
Now glowing with glorious
Feelings so fabulous
Future so bright, holds more promise
Than children, who having
Intelligence rivaling Hawking’s,
leave adults gawking at
developed theories
of things still unsolved by
the best minds of elders
but promises die
and children don’t keep so well
so don’t make predictions
(temp drop, chord changes)
Winter is not quite
As cold as his body now
Floating so stiffly
Beneath the permafrost
Delicate beauty
Fed by the sunlight
A few flowers remaining
Despite the temperature
White silence settles
So cold and relaxing
No satisfaction
Is found in her face tonight
Black is so flattering
For such a frown
And a false form of peace comes
And shelters the family
P.S. I Wish I Were Here
(a song)
Running from an 8 year old monster
The faster I run
The more I know that nothing
Will ever be the same
So hard to run from an imbedded parasite
It must be so comfortable
In there for so long
(chorus)
I’ll trade you the sum
Of all I’ve become
And everything I’ve ever thought
Was important
For one chance to smile
Without medication
One tear
One touch without numbing me
So many years
I wish I were here
Plastic for so long
But decaying anyway
I won’t last forever
But apparently this will
I’ll leave it to only
No one at all
On one deserves this
Take me back home
(repeat chorus)
(bridge? Interlude?)
I want a ticket back to 13
I want a memory that doesn’t scare me
I want a feeling I know is mine
I want an easy way through all this difficulty
I want to know how to be alive
I want to enjoy life under the pyrosphere
I want to know what happiness is
Iiii…..I wish I were here
Running from an 8 year old monster
The faster I run
The more I know that nothing
Will ever
So hard to run from an imbedded parasite
It must be so comfortable
In there for so long
(chorus)
I’ll trade you the sum
Of all I’ve become
And everything I’ve ever thought
Was important
For one chance to smile
Without medication
One tear
One touch without numbing me
So many years
I wish I were here
Plastic for so long
But decaying anyway
I won’t last forever
But apparently this will
I’ll leave it to only
No one at all
On one deserves this
Take me back home
(repeat chorus)
(bridge? Interlude?)
I want a ticket back to 13
I want a memory that doesn’t scare me
I want a feeling I know is mine
I want an easy way through all this difficulty
I want to know how to be alive
I want to enjoy life under the pyrosphere
I want to know what happiness is
Iiii…..I wish I were here
ennui
to be thrown and stoned
by the place you call home
always the case in America
for a mind overgrown
seems to takes eons
for the crowd to wake
and its usually too late
to get back what they take
folding you into a box so clear
trying to turn u into something
they dont fear
trying to make things foreign
even when they are not
makes me feel those brains
are the size of a microdot
by the place you call home
always the case in America
for a mind overgrown
seems to takes eons
for the crowd to wake
and its usually too late
to get back what they take
folding you into a box so clear
trying to turn u into something
they dont fear
trying to make things foreign
even when they are not
makes me feel those brains
are the size of a microdot
boom chicka wa wa
Your taste
your kiss
your touch
you wrapped up in my hair and skin and spit and
spilled red wine
the curve of your neck
the waterfall of nerves on ur inner hip
that cascade..
your warmth..
your warm cunt
crying in-exhaustible waves of pleasure...
the inside of your svelte soft thigh..
the palpatating rhythmsssss that
inebriate..........and envelop
your heavy breath on my ear
....leaving its moist sensuality
heaving breathing as our bodies grind
towards elysium.
your teeth on my neck.....deep....
your claws in my back ......deep.........
I need it all.............
but the drama
any questions????
your kiss
your touch
you wrapped up in my hair and skin and spit and
spilled red wine
the curve of your neck
the waterfall of nerves on ur inner hip
that cascade..
your warmth..
your warm cunt
crying in-exhaustible waves of pleasure...
the inside of your svelte soft thigh..
the palpatating rhythmsssss that
inebriate..........and envelop
your heavy breath on my ear
....leaving its moist sensuality
heaving breathing as our bodies grind
towards elysium.
your teeth on my neck.....deep....
your claws in my back ......deep.........
I need it all.............
but the drama
any questions????
closed
burning up my brain are thoughts
your thoughts
why????
I cant feel you any more than i can see the
breeze
but i listen to your shit
your dumb shit
and for what, my sweet?
WEHELLLLLL....thats it, eh?
now i remember
a night of wrestling sublime
can leave you here
though
its never enough for me to really open
my ear.
your thoughts
why????
I cant feel you any more than i can see the
breeze
but i listen to your shit
your dumb shit
and for what, my sweet?
WEHELLLLLL....thats it, eh?
now i remember
a night of wrestling sublime
can leave you here
though
its never enough for me to really open
my ear.
Hardest or easiest job in the world??
Hokay, so now Tony Snow is resigning? Jesus man, this administration has had more press secretaries than Norman Mailer has stabbed people. I think it must be an extremely hard job, especially when for this dumb-ass, shoulda been a lame-duck pres. all along, but stress and guilt, which is why i am guessing Fleischer and Bush's fat mini-me resigned, are not the reason for Snow's leaving. Apparently Snow, a former pundit for the Fox faux news network, says he just doesnt make enought money. His 168,000 dollar a year check is not enough to pay the bills. He must be one of those Americans who dont have health insurance and is having to pay for all his chemotherapy out of pocket-yeah right. Bush must be gettin fucked up right now. I know i would if my third press secretary resigned due to lack of fundage. That is a horrible excuse. I mean, at this point, especially considering its Bush's 2nd term and he dont give a fuck anyway, shouldnt the press secretary have the easiest job in the world. He could stand up on the podium and tell every big-wig news correspondent to go fuck themselves every time they asked a question. It wouldnt really be that much different than what the administration has been doing. It would just be a little more honest. We all can appreciate honesty, Right?
bienvenudos, bitches
HELLO I AM AARON.......SORRY, IS THAT TOO LOUD?.....HERE....ill turn it down. Anyways, as i said, i am Aaron, but the mothership calls me Florizel Polixenes, Flox for short. And, yes, thank you riverman, I am a bit of a psychotic, but not a violent one. I would classify myself as a general watershed, walk-around-all-day-with-Magnum-condoms-on-my-feet-and-ask-people-if-they-have-seen-my-shoes type of psychotic, which is not scary at all but, rather, kinda funny, that is, if you have taken some time in your meaningless existence to abuse Acid, which i hope everyone that reads this has-it will help to be explanatory in the upcoming months of reading this blog.
All you need to know.......
I live in Nor Cal, you know, where the hippies come from. I like to tickle midgets with feathers, but not those freakish dwarfs, just the ones over 2 and a half feet. I like to go to the zoo and throw shit at the monkeys. I love to fill 32oz glasses with Hendrick's gin and a splash of vermouth and pretend I am classy cause i am drinking a martini. I like sex, but only with LIVE girls. Knife hits are the strongest form of inhalation for the sweet cheeba. Wild Turkey tastes best with water and ice. Loss is perpetual.....so fucking accept it. Cheese that isnt yours is.......survey says......nacho cheese. Wow, that was bad. Anyways, I drink every day, and, preferably, enough to kill a horse, which can be tricky to maintain if you are not dedicated to the cause of surrealism. I love to write and, mainly, i think it is because i love to offend people. . Excuse me, i meant to say i love to offend Americans, cause most foreigners are too laid back to piss off as they usually arent stupid. And I like to piss on Americans..............probably because it is soooo easy. I mean, come on, who has more taboos to exploit? thats right.....no body. I will stay proud of my attempts at expatriate status, that is, until we elect a philosopher pres. Anyways, check our shit out and comment. I promise you will be entertained and have a few thoughts provoked out of that databank of memories of Mtv videos and Jessica Simpson's tits.......Good Day.
All you need to know.......
I live in Nor Cal, you know, where the hippies come from. I like to tickle midgets with feathers, but not those freakish dwarfs, just the ones over 2 and a half feet. I like to go to the zoo and throw shit at the monkeys. I love to fill 32oz glasses with Hendrick's gin and a splash of vermouth and pretend I am classy cause i am drinking a martini. I like sex, but only with LIVE girls. Knife hits are the strongest form of inhalation for the sweet cheeba. Wild Turkey tastes best with water and ice. Loss is perpetual.....so fucking accept it. Cheese that isnt yours is.......survey says......nacho cheese. Wow, that was bad. Anyways, I drink every day, and, preferably, enough to kill a horse, which can be tricky to maintain if you are not dedicated to the cause of surrealism. I love to write and, mainly, i think it is because i love to offend people. . Excuse me, i meant to say i love to offend Americans, cause most foreigners are too laid back to piss off as they usually arent stupid. And I like to piss on Americans..............probably because it is soooo easy. I mean, come on, who has more taboos to exploit? thats right.....no body. I will stay proud of my attempts at expatriate status, that is, until we elect a philosopher pres. Anyways, check our shit out and comment. I promise you will be entertained and have a few thoughts provoked out of that databank of memories of Mtv videos and Jessica Simpson's tits.......Good Day.
Blood Sister
Blood Sister, fixing
Each visit
Never long enough
Terror is
The very thought of you gone
You gone is
My certain, quick demise
Always leaving me, Blood Sister
Next to anything
You are everything; mine
only hope for the sunrise,
swelling my eyes, is your beautiful scent
smelling of nothing
just dust is your signature
only small footsteps is all you leave
footsteps, and me frozen
in fear
of my Blood Sister gone.
Each visit
Never long enough
Terror is
The very thought of you gone
You gone is
My certain, quick demise
Always leaving me, Blood Sister
Next to anything
You are everything; mine
only hope for the sunrise,
swelling my eyes, is your beautiful scent
smelling of nothing
just dust is your signature
only small footsteps is all you leave
footsteps, and me frozen
in fear
of my Blood Sister gone.
A Few Paces North Of The Fire Place
That brown southern water
Hiding, so deftly, the monster turtle.
In one quick snap,
Your finger is gone.
Just doing his job I guess.
I’m sure he’d have made
One hell of a defendant
At Nuremburg
Brown water
Showing me myself in shades
Darker than I should be
But it’s still, obviously, painfully,
Me.
Hiding, so deftly, the monster turtle.
In one quick snap,
Your finger is gone.
Just doing his job I guess.
I’m sure he’d have made
One hell of a defendant
At Nuremburg
Brown water
Showing me myself in shades
Darker than I should be
But it’s still, obviously, painfully,
Me.
Welcome
Hello one and all. i am the riverman. the posts below are by aaron. as you may've noticed, he, along with myself, are the designated psychotics (and i have the rx receipts to prove it)in The Triumvirate. just jerkin your chain there aaron. i'll leave you and san_ford to do your own introductions.
as i said, i am the riverman. i take enough opiates in one dose to kill a full grown man. i've been on psychotherapeutic pharmaceuticals for nearly a decade. i like sand walks in the long. i enjoy pretending to be important and visionary. my turn ons are 'on' switches, red brick dust extracted from the sinuses of my victims, and kitties. my turn offs are those damn, DAMN 'off switches...may they rot in hell.
as i said, i am the riverman. i take enough opiates in one dose to kill a full grown man. i've been on psychotherapeutic pharmaceuticals for nearly a decade. i like sand walks in the long. i enjoy pretending to be important and visionary. my turn ons are 'on' switches, red brick dust extracted from the sinuses of my victims, and kitties. my turn offs are those damn, DAMN 'off switches...may they rot in hell.
ADDICTION
The red eyed, white knuckled, heavenly demon.
He loves me.
He is always with me.
The intensity of his influence is
always searing my eyes.
The inevitable death he brings, was born to bring,
is clouding the oceans of my nerves
with the ever-increasing reality of his existence.
Let me move on!!! Please!
Just let me be!
Your presence causes my development
to freeze.
I sit in a room
all by myself
shivering in the lucidity of my fiendish tendencies,
the realism of their infusion into my persona, and all that remains
is the voice.
His Voice.
His incessant whispering
owns my thoughts
like a cat owns a goldfish in a bowl
Cringing.
CRINGING.
At the idea
of what I know I about to do to
myself.
Headed to the black hole now
to get the soul thief.
The dull brainwashing diamond
that gives me a sigh
with just one slight
prick.
Prior is the apprehensive sickness,
The nut-clenching tension that
can only be cured by one sordid nadir.
Quivering.....
Shaking......
The one track mind
with a junkie’s focus thrown in.
The sweat pours down my trembling spine
as I rest in a state of catatonic despair
that will not be dissipated until
the fat is in the fire.
I know the monkey has grown into my back
a mixing of the protons and electrons
and now my soul fucks and walks like quasimoto
Hopefully I will shake the invading colors
before I am overtaken.
I feel it totalitarian presence looming.
And I fear it will eventually become all-encompassing
Leaving nothing to me but the frail vessel in which I reside.
He loves me.
He is always with me.
The intensity of his influence is
always searing my eyes.
The inevitable death he brings, was born to bring,
is clouding the oceans of my nerves
with the ever-increasing reality of his existence.
Let me move on!!! Please!
Just let me be!
Your presence causes my development
to freeze.
I sit in a room
all by myself
shivering in the lucidity of my fiendish tendencies,
the realism of their infusion into my persona, and all that remains
is the voice.
His Voice.
His incessant whispering
owns my thoughts
like a cat owns a goldfish in a bowl
Cringing.
CRINGING.
At the idea
of what I know I about to do to
myself.
Headed to the black hole now
to get the soul thief.
The dull brainwashing diamond
that gives me a sigh
with just one slight
prick.
Prior is the apprehensive sickness,
The nut-clenching tension that
can only be cured by one sordid nadir.
Quivering.....
Shaking......
The one track mind
with a junkie’s focus thrown in.
The sweat pours down my trembling spine
as I rest in a state of catatonic despair
that will not be dissipated until
the fat is in the fire.
I know the monkey has grown into my back
a mixing of the protons and electrons
and now my soul fucks and walks like quasimoto
Hopefully I will shake the invading colors
before I am overtaken.
I feel it totalitarian presence looming.
And I fear it will eventually become all-encompassing
Leaving nothing to me but the frail vessel in which I reside.
BISEXUALS- they bug me.
Afraid to choose?
Or are u afraid to lose?
Does the existence of strange
inflict you like a dog with mange?
Why cant you pick a side?
Do you prefer the thrill of the ride?
I think you are afraid of rejection
inspired by all ur lack of inflection.
Sexuality is a preference- an attraction
appreciating all beauty is not worth the reaction
that u seem to inflict upon urself
put ur ideas where theybelong-on the bottom shelf
I understand your zeal
I share the same for veal
it’s a love u don’t understand
like being from alabam and going to kazakhstan
lost in translation, as it were,
it’s a hard decision-dick or fur
Now tis the end of it all
Maybe youll be able to admit your love of balls
but if you don’t and lose sleep over it
just be happy knowing you’d also like a clit.
Or are u afraid to lose?
Does the existence of strange
inflict you like a dog with mange?
Why cant you pick a side?
Do you prefer the thrill of the ride?
I think you are afraid of rejection
inspired by all ur lack of inflection.
Sexuality is a preference- an attraction
appreciating all beauty is not worth the reaction
that u seem to inflict upon urself
put ur ideas where theybelong-on the bottom shelf
I understand your zeal
I share the same for veal
it’s a love u don’t understand
like being from alabam and going to kazakhstan
lost in translation, as it were,
it’s a hard decision-dick or fur
Now tis the end of it all
Maybe youll be able to admit your love of balls
but if you don’t and lose sleep over it
just be happy knowing you’d also like a clit.
blaghhh
as the suns chains are broken
the grass’s trunks are smiling to the west
waiting for the familiar words to be spoken.
The wonky advice that lends guidance and instruction
to a collective unconscious that is headed for destruction
it is marketed as nutrimentum spiritus.
When it actually strikes fear in us.
From the depths of a heart ocean
comes the seemingly latent reaction
to all the conditioning that our hive endures.
These words are bark on a redwood
and they always dent my mattress
with the precision and effectiveness of a xanax
the grass’s trunks are smiling to the west
waiting for the familiar words to be spoken.
The wonky advice that lends guidance and instruction
to a collective unconscious that is headed for destruction
it is marketed as nutrimentum spiritus.
When it actually strikes fear in us.
From the depths of a heart ocean
comes the seemingly latent reaction
to all the conditioning that our hive endures.
These words are bark on a redwood
and they always dent my mattress
with the precision and effectiveness of a xanax
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Creation
Night is fading into dawn as somewhere near the doorway rests
A broken pencil,
Bloody point.
An average ending at its best.
But every night insomniatic, writing just to keep him sane
Is this creature,
Barely human
Failing to turn pain to gain
A broken pencil,
Bloody point.
An average ending at its best.
But every night insomniatic, writing just to keep him sane
Is this creature,
Barely human
Failing to turn pain to gain
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