I was born
But a year before time travel with flux capacitors
Shit I even spelled that right

And all the pop in my veins
All the culture spread before me
Like a neo-hippy and her tie-dye yesteryear blanket

But do hope to weave something new

creating addiction

could use a shower
or just a warm hand
to dance on with
there’s musiclife and nights
smoke and booze whispers
whipping through these lungs
down the back of this throat
tickles, like busy fingers
exploring new skin
creating addiction

Of Privilege and Pensiveness

you smile wide in comfort
without a worry in yer veins
jaded in your brilliance
and security

this smiles wide always
through my trials
through my pain
through every fall or stumble
and each days impairing break

I would like to show you
I'’d like to give you back your sight
I'’d like to take away your affluence
and show you what it's like
to smile like you mean it
when it's hard to stand and fight
to hold your head above the water
to truly feel the light

bottomless

just a metalic green pool
copper scent echoes
not even empty
as the sun and the atmosphere make the perfect liquid
metalic green copper scent echoes

so some Confederate, he
goes for a swim,
throws his coat up against
a pin oak,
slides in,
disperses

dip a cup into the pool
maybe
you can take it with you
make it
less
in incriments

i'll be america
you be a naked body

the headlights
careening through night
down a highway
and me
feeling more holy and metallic
in the drunken
bad decision moment
the road stumbles beneath
and the trembling planet

hey jack,
where'd you while
through
all yer crazy christmas's
on rushing boxcars
wind blown and drunk,
at mom's
clutchin a bottle of mad dog
with one or two
of your crazy haired friends
passin through florida,
in all the new yorks
and san franciscos
and all the in betweens
of this poor crying beat down
desolate railroad earth

so far
from four naked feet
and that sea
of cool marble

and so many lines
behind
these fingers
starved and broken
miles and miles
women and bottles
storms and stories

and
somewhere in someone elses
memory
of a new year's miami
a man i don't like
so much
yelled
"there's no book deal"
down an alley littered
with homeless

so far
from four naked feet
and that sea
of cool marble
i think i feel him yelling it,
at me

christmas gifts
with foil wrapping
accentuate
children's wide eyes
and
my empty echoing pockets

but its not so cold this year
and the drafts of this house
are less
pronounced
then usual

Twisted in the Heart

With vestigial eyes and a smile worth diamonds
Your fervour climbed over me

He says

Maybe I forgot the winter of your worth

Maybe I was the last chance you had to feel summer

I prefer the fall

Everyday

I clung to the idea that the bottom pieces hidden by the ones on top were somehow redeeming

'Let them preach', I said

Adorable as it was, your truculant backstage persona was rentable at best

Like the precious little noose you wore tucked behind a velvet vest

Post mortem whispers in our dirty little dungeon where pungent lust was our only stall

Starlight

Starbright

First scar I feel tonight

Joshua Fink

How'd he get my address anyway

The monk who invented champagne
Who knew all the bubbles
By their separate names
And would call them
One by one
In his sleep
Had dreams of the opals and diamonds
He stole from the sky
To put in his drink
And kept in his journal
Each dream that he had
And handed it down straight to me

Now when I sleep
With champagne on my breath
I toss and I turn
And diamonds poke at my sides
And opals blind my closed eyes
And I hope that old monk f-in’ burns

Coulda been my home too

Those slowed down some bodies
Homebodies
Exchange old stories
And there’s no way to capture
Their easy laughter
Not even in poetry
So I say let them keep it
In their little place
In a space they now own
For ever theirs
And leave them alone

Identity theft

I know who I am

And I don’t need a number or a card or anything

I know the names of my pets and the natural color of my hair

I know how many people I fucked and how many I wish I fucked

I know who I am

I know that I don’t know the capitols of all the states

I also know how little I care

I know all the drugs I’ve done and all the drugs I’d wish I’d done

I know who I am

And so when everyone is yelling’

‘Bout what a fucking stupid bitch I am

For losing my identity

And canceling all my credit cards

And my license to drive a car

I can smile and say

I know who I am

And

…

I also know

You fuckers know who I am

But you don’t have a fucking clue

About who you are

giant upside-down planarian shaped spaceships
the mammary glands of underwater creatures
the pharoahs of ancient egypt
milk, bread and orange juice
feliz navidad

they say that in
the begining, there were angels

well I see angels exhaling their
souls like cigarette clouds

and soaking the strobes of sun
dripping onto the road


so tell me where things have changed

I say it's still the begining

i find myself wonderin'
wether or not
i could play
angel halos
like wine glasses
runnin my finger around the rim
to make them hum
and sing
and if it would sound
like
hosanas

brant ducks bobbing
tail uo
for fish
swimming
in shallow water
drifting
among the ripples
they make

life is a muse
the way light
falls
on infinite things
and they appear
to dance
holy
at all moments
just the budhist illusion
Maya
singing and swaying
like
heat above the road

the way this old cars parked
got her nose pointin straight
into bright blue empty infinite

and the thought runs through
that if i floor it in low gear
just maybe she might clear
that taunting immaculate horizon

wash away all the sins and pains
with cloudstuff amongst jetstream
shake hands with angels
before crashing down

gypsy dreams
and
keroscene

ashes to ashes
and
lust to lust

erosion

cold and silent
and grey paint flecks,
and the lost
luster
dusting the
road,
shimmering trail
reflecting
refracting
birds of prey
hiding within
the sun
and carving
shadows
into slivers
and light
into shards

Chills and Well Wishes

your tone sounds
the bitter sting of winters wind
you breathe about indifference
distant like destinations end

surely the gawking gaggle
of petty footed illiberal fools
heard rumor of dear friends departure
and are ecstatic with the news

there is no intent to hurt or mar
no underlying threat
just the need to keep in touch
with all of life’s movement

so I step aside and carry on
your imprint in my heart
but I will not stay here watching you
break yourself apart

now asking nothing from you
just love and betterment
of yourself and to live your life
without a single regret

absent- but not gone
my brain rambles
socially withdrawn
don't feel igored
or call me stupid
Just get my attention,
bring my brain to the present
this is where it's at
because here with you
these thaughts won't stew
though times were great
the past is gray
I'll fill the blanks
another day

for my or maybe your... you know

seldom kiss between the meanings
collecting faces and rarely breathing
cutting pieces from your memory
leaving home to pursue your enemies
i'm locking all this from my favor
dying to fall upon old behavior
casting stones at won't be saviours
lying down upon the railroads
looking for a love called salvage
damage goods in shrink wrapped packages
cut my face from pictures loneliness
bedding down with paperback romance
treading water and finding rosencrance
strumming rotten five string instuments
to tell the truth i've just been impotent
masturbate to my friend syphillus
typhoid promises hacking coughin fits
i found the exit procedure bothersome
stick around till i find anyone
to solve this puzzle and my rubix cube
to be quite honest i can' find the tube
theres idiots in that box
i'm damn near out of clocks
and radio plays disco sonet rock
has any of this penetrated your box
of unclaimed personal effects
and by the time that your through reading this
is the top of the bottom any more romantic
when you can't find a flashlight to keep a promise
to the next time you'll be out of tissues
which of my freinds should i use
and to make it simple if forgotten
but i ripped my pants and swallowed buttons
now forgive my nevermind that last part
i am sure that i could believe in...

...must have fallen overboard
is there a name that maybe i could afford
just relay this criptic message
while i bask in winters undue suffrage

the golden sky
split and crushed
down upon us
with the dreams
and murders of old dreams
sparkling in our eyes

our hands wrinkled with
futures and truths
and the blind lies
and hubris
litened to by the blessed

and the tears in
the afterglow
reflected whispers of god

the light that
breaks and shows
at dawn
in holy holy
oneness waters
all around
this glow
this glow
this glow

breaks and shows
for us

their blessed ruins
in this horizon
for the souls
that seek beyond
and theirs
sparkling
beyond truth or
damnation
in the midnight dreamings
show everything
the
world

stepped in mud once

you can tell him he’s won
the girls broken heart
and all the lost pieces
that have fallen off

because loving you
just feeds the fire more wood

you’ve got your blankets
a tent and a tarp
that’s too small to keep
the rain from her heart

just place her among all rest
of your forgotten memories

for every door you've ever closed and all the ones you never opened

i've envisioned your face
placed violently between
floorboards and rage
neglect of time spent
wasted and waste

maybe one day you’ll open you’re eyes

begging without knees

you’re my morning after hell
another taste of addiction
but harder to kick than
the ones shredded like ribbons
into my skin and
you’re right I can hate
the waste of you
dripping down my throat
making me choke
on memories hard
like liquor and smiles
more alive than
the bed you lay in
silently fading

3am ghosts

I'm thinking about what it must be like, at 8 years old,
fearful of 3 am ghosts in the glint of night, trying
to keep at sleep, then to wake with the sound
of a madman breaking windows
a couple of stories down, cursing -

"Damn you Walt Whitman! You let them do this!
You let these folks turn sulferous and let
this footpath lead me to the desert. I was standing
on your bridge as you burnt it down!

"I dreamt that you would hold my hand as we jumped
turnstiles. Damn you, Walt Whitman, you should
be locked up here instead of me, watchign the sun get
lower in the pale horizon every day. There's glass in
my teeth because you said it'd make me sparkle.

"Damn yer eyes, and damn mine too, as I waited for
you outside the city dead-house, praying on
the corpses that go by. Each one asked for their eulogy.
We all need a few songs sung, building on each other
like the bricks that ossify our city.

"I want you to know, Walt Whitman, the branches standing
naked offer a clear view through the park. Everyone
passing by sees you kneeling, crying, lit by strips of
sunlight. Dreams can be encased in poetry, but there they
choke. You should see how deep we can breathe."

The sound wind sweeping past city blocks. Streets steam
in release and I kick through a pile of leaves and let the air
currents take them.

Gringos

Gringos
and their children
covered in wax
drawing us into
their cartoons

when the big lights come out
I let my cigarette smoke blow upwards
and melt with the colors

Untitled

You're here in me but outside you're lost
Desperation climbs me sitting in a window kissing frost
We're together in separation
Lost in spirit, out of rhyme
Prying at our desperation
Out of promise, out of time
I see you in fields and temples
I see you holding an empty urn
I see you crying out for shelter
from a love that you have burned
I hear poverty and hatred
You touch love and let it go
I can sense something sacred
You feel sorrow that I'll never know
I pray for your arrival
I pray to an empty sky
I pray for your survival
I pray that life is not a lie.

just a girl

exactly one year ago to the day....

the same house
same chair
same keys
same cat
same parents sleeping
and that same strung out feeling
sick broken overtired cold wet weak

every face I saw tonight was either new or re-newed
rode with good ol’ hats and hare flyin everywhere
cows
the man dances all night and some mad glowin eyes behind a megaphone once told me to
just get in the car girl

so i did

and i will

and i do

and will continue to


exactly one year ago to the day....

i walked for the first time
heel toe to hop

so we write
for our reasons, causes, feelings
and about the change of seasons
....sometimes about groundhogs

and with all the love i have for all of you
your passion and madness


exactly one year ago to the day....

i am a causality

i just met you all in a bar
(or on a couch if you’re a cow...)

i don’t like bananas

i hate red wine

i am just a girl


and i’m going to vomit

I'm Losing Perspective

In the damp disguised darkness of the pieces we ignore.
Is the secret life of desperation of the soldiers we implore.
The private landscape isolated for those apt for viewing.
like so many mudholes set aside for those renewing.
There's hope in the sky tonight and every other
But the feeling is lost in the ignorance of each other.
I won't begin to pretend to know what love is or what it means
I'll only say that our feelings hold us together in the worst of scenes.
Maybe I'm wrong.

ONE LAST POEM

We live just for standing
We fall just just for landing
Life's illusions are enchanting
We branch philosophy from religeon
in hopes to be forgiven
from lethargic indesicion
An ugly submission to a cultures superstition
We give ourselves permission
with an incision of attrition
Invision inhibition as a gateway to perdition
The contradiction of the fiction is the restriction of your diction
Salvation in prediction but living in affliction
Where does that leave us?
Fresh out of your teens
With both parents in graves
Boozing and drugging ourselves off of reality
Faith.
Not a bad idea
Just a bad lifestyle
Like communism
Wherever or whatever God is.
He makes more sense than the garbage we've come up with.

Correspondence

I’ve been recklessly throwing shadows around
In my awkwardly lit room
Alone
In hopes to pick a fight
Or else find something to do
In regards to question 2
I don’t mind the loneliness
It’s the cold in my bed
I can’t stand

Sails a same

Pessimism runs freely and dualities conform with me
separated ideas bereave my only handle
Once a sparrow now an eagle soars majestic
Truth in serum soaks my blood cold an warm the same
Hate inspired suppressed in same and never the two shall cross
tawdry thoughts engross in conversations never uttered
Caught in the storm a forming opinion never to see the light of days
Almost becoming yet never believing two entwined at dusk
Thoughts provoking words invoking and not once grown in fruition
Twice the crossed met and once the two let but not to remember that truly
Compass turned moist and north not found the map has been lost at sea
coarsely was telling the tales of unveiling and not was the beckon of bequest
Untimely was spoken worse yet was the untaken of offers no pleads found
Crying the candle flickers quietly two bickers but others met in kind
Likesay yet we may con not for wot seems hold back a thought too long
Once a ships sails miss the sight of sails yet grieve not for wind takes all

I could look into yer eyes
while moments melt away
and I believe yer heart is pure
in a thousand different ways

i'de rather be
all the leaves vibrating madly
thunderbolts
bowling balls
skid marks
planets turning
foam tops on beers
drank under lazy late night eyes
and the lazy late night eyes
the light rays rushin in em
the molecules burned in the fusion
that released that light
yer breath mixin with mine
and the infinite atmosphere
the updraft as it catches bird wings
and all those feathers
a train engine
the coal and the smoke

i'd rather be all that, all at once
than just this bag of tissues and organs
with thoughts and electricity

wine stains on the sweater sleeve
in the night
why can't i believe
in all the diamond stars
and the hopeless eyes
dotting just as many bars

lacking memories
of moments
that burn
through retinas
into brain cells
all the details
like the exact way
her skirt ruffled
or her lips glistened

cuz this is a vacuum
where magic and mysticism
and lip gloss glisten
don't exist

riggers, november

payphone
in the doorway
and 2 dollar
pints
on the bar
and soul upon soul
stuck there
behind dreary
sets of eyes
all down the line
all down the line

the old man
steps out for a cigarette
tonguing his gums
behind his lower lip
and eyes the occassional
car
roll through a yellow light

pillow head

morning pressing slightly
arose and saddened to groove
believing change was a hot knowing
reflected for the silky mirror

the pains of moonrise
and eloquence of script
to be everything all at once
with the whole world shaking
all the vibrating particles,
holy

footprints on stone

Oh i love you...really....
that happened to me once

I appreciate your kindness, though you may be too generous
i would like to hear of your adventures.
should we meet?
No darlin, i’m just glad you’re in one piece
What you mean?
...language barrier sometimes catches on me
well two can play that game
Those terms are vague. I can’t chase shadows like I ues to.
Please be more specific, do you need rescue?
Just plead the 5th...then tell the jury how sexy I am.

We could have used your support. Why was your head so messy?
I feel dumb all over.
Maybe I should just cut my losses and not even bother.
For some reason that made me laugh
Any odd chance you’ve been possesed?
I’m ok with it just warn me if so thanks.

I’m in the woods now
your ride showed I take it?
I have an open passenger seat!
And we’re not going straight there...

So i’ve discovered

...the wind in my heart the wind in my heart the dust in my head the dust in my head the wind in my heart the wind in my heart....


So i’ve discovered

...come to drive them away....

you wanna throw me mind blowing
love
break my brain

cause all was selfish or selfless
or absorbed through spinal tissues
this skin, breath drawn thin
the paper under this pen

well we’ve all lost our damn shoes
whipping around like wind
slinking through these haunted streets
with Cheshire-like grins
aiming to break them all
roll around like mad gods
watch their shiny minds wobble
slip away only to fall back and follow

now in my panic I glimpsed your madness
your eyes were glass on fire
and have never burned brighter
your dreams spilt to the street
as I watched you tare at the seams
to unravel the last string of your fading sanity

well I have to admit
I enjoyed watching you twitch
as you scream about movement and flow
and star lit eye glow
at the top of your lungs
on top of this town
on top of the world
we all want to be heard
to live the dream
extend the peak
love
and break
because now is today
and tomorrow never starts
without a horizon
a line to guide it
and a sun intense enough
to lead us blinded

I first met the moon
In a cathedral ceiling-ed cedar swamp
Surprise made initial talk awkward

That time of night
I’d assumed the temple empty

“Does it smell like a library in here to you?”
I asked

And so
We soon
Were best of friends
And giggled like girls
In their prime-ist of years

We teased the old forest
Lecherous and vivid
By tossing our heads
And tried on eye shadows
In mirrored stream bends
We danced to the wolf howls, whip-poor-will’s
And owls
We drank Phlox nectar
In midnight gardens of hers
And Gossiped
Of wrens

Moon and I held hands to stroll
Or roll in inky sky
The stars mistake it Sapphic
But that
Only adds
To the secret friendship
I have made with the moon

pieces whole and otherwise

there's nothing but ghosts
in Durantze's voice
and in the rain drops

maybe Montana is an answer
maybe i'll see myself
in all that big sky

i've asked the drunk eyes
of every last soul
where they went wrong
i've chased forgotten holidays
across new continents
i've listened
to slow words
from
gurus
rock stars
and old women
i've been baptised
over and over and over
again

go ahead girl
but don't wish on just that one star
wish on the whole god damn
wine bottle
of heaven
for everything
for redemption, salvation, glory
and infinity

day dream quelude
all the perfections
of a television body

crazy fool
crazy for this life
barkin poems at the moon
cuz he knows
all the old prophets
did the same
and they like him
were born in stars
infinities
ago and away
dreams from the ether of primitive fog

the smoke hangs
in the car
like brimstone and afterlife

damaged by the wind
and empty bottles
the mind is an alleyway
anyways
newspaper blow
like godborn spirits
before birth
and the lighting
lets you know
what the next world
would be like

ricochet moonbeams
desert highway
growing old during sleep even

the gold
of the old
is the stories
told

matchbox romance
catches batting eyes unexpecting
cuz sometimes the serendipity
of random jukebox selection
leads to kisses and bed sheets

maybe this is just livin
the unearthed flavors of a
forgotten america

paul simon
hummin
about america
like it was his lost lover
or all of our lost lover
what is this somewhat life
ten thousand shapes
of a kaliedescope god breathing

i remember chicago
and the girl who
left me on the l train

candle wax
and an old man's whiskers
girl, just
candle wax
and an old man's whiskers

she's simply
mistletoe
and moonbeam
shivers
but you boy
you were the clouds
lazily drifting past
the full moon's
laughing face
all night long
all night long
and she told you
"those cats
in the alleyway
know
all about
your
treasures"

no regrets!

elated
in waiting
finally flipping the page
with the folded over corner
yellowed with age
and
elated
with a face and
the shyness and light yours brings
to the one the mirror reflects
through my stagnant mornings
and
the road is elated
with the return of my feet to it’s pavement
and the movements we're making
day out and day in
and my face wont stop smiling
in this rain
I’m elated
higher than I’ve ever been
and
with the acid to my back
and the sting of the past
quickly faded away
I’m truly elated
with turning this page and
starting a new day
in your eyes

Mr. Dan from the Ark

I met
Tonight
The most fantastic persona
In voice
Rodney Dangerfield
And the stories he told me
OH! The stories he told me
Of weed bags and Miami
And his daughters
Now grown
But the man
As he stood
In drizzle, out the bar
It would have been enough for me
With the voice
And the humor
And the regrets
And triumph
Well
It would have been enough for me

Bones

The skeleton is out of the closet, dancing his bony feet all over my red alcohol soaked body
All I can do is stare at that number written on a little piece of paper hanging off my night table
I probably won't call it
Move over bones I gotta get up
Pink bicycles are for little girls and midget clowns
If the rides too short circle the clock a few times and get your monies worth
I don't have a dime old man so start begging for quarters
You sit under that awning with your coffee cup in your hand to keep you dry and warm
But if this rain picks up like its supposed to your gonna have to find some new shelter scruffs
The rain is a slanted rain and it will do what it needs to ruin your night
I'd take you in but there's a very pale man who lives in my closet
And I think he's keeping the neighbors awake
I wish I gave her my number instead
I would like to hear a sweet new voice tonight
So don't call me names, not tonight anyway
I'm not feeling it
The purple and blues got me running circles in my room tonight
I'm not calling
There's too much on the line with this girl I just met
I'd rather leave it at that
one good conversation
who knows what it would all mean twelve fights and three weeks later
Bones, get up, I gotta get to work
and stop drinking all my wine, your depleting the stock and its gonna be a cold winter
I'm settled in with everything I need so walk away
Anyway goodnight bones, Ill make you something to eat in the morning
I won't be hungry anyway

The Shower In The Upstairs Bathroom Inside "The Meaning of Life Mansion"

crippled prostitute.

Redemption

Everyday I want to throw this goddamn book out and start fresh
I just keep writing more and more
Goddamn
Others feel bad when I say it
Not me
Not today
Or any of the other today's I've dated
They always dump me before I get what I want from them
Serves me right considering what I've done to them
They should be bitter
Probably talk amongst one another regularly
I'm gonna find where they meet and burn that motherfucker down
Fuck you I say when this is over

Johns and tricks

'Nother month and I'll be just as broke as I always dreamed I'd be.
Anybody wanna buy a story?
I'll sell it cheap.
After all you'll never get the meaning without me.

City lights were shining last night and I walked between the skyscrapers
On platforms made by the hand of my mind
Two things preceded my first step: A cold drink of harp lager and a small meal
Two things proceded my first step: A second step and a thought
Great as it was to be walking so tall I asked for more
Which is greater the need for more or lack of satisfaction?
I'd like to think my mind is hungry for new experience
It may very well be that it is just greedy for it
So which is lesser a greedy mind or a full appetite?
I'll stick to being a hungry greed monger
It may not look as good on my application
But i could not live iwth anything less

Sitting within the confines of a strangely lit room I see future-past events
Memories I hope to create
Memories that are now imaginative figures
Memories may not come true.

so what, we were lied to

Intentions don’t make up for style sweetheart
And there ain’t no Christ to guide you
And you can wait for ever
But it won’t end
You were lied to
Waiting is a choice you make
And it seems the only one, right?
The living wait for afterlife
Disco princess wait for nightlife

I know better then
But don't make up for it
Only worse
For “what I tried to do”
Or claiming
“I was lied to”
But I’ll do better when
And that’s waiting just the same

Micheal Watering the Glimmer of Bob

Your all alone in this world
is that so bad?
To realize dependencies are yours to keep or refuse
To understand that you can stand on top of this planet or let it crush you under the weight you'll allow
to be alone.
Its okay as long as you know it
At least you can stretch your legs in bed at night
alone.
when you sit alone at the green planet
Listening to pleadings of consider this
Have you considered what happenes to me
you realize he said to much
How heavy is that stone
you've not yet said enough
the chair sits alone in the middle of the room
I ask how does it feel
it smiles
so do I.

Just another worst day of your life

Deep sighs from being hard pressed
for "time"
Between a rock and a hard place
Exhaling moth-y breath
With no moth-ly magic in it

And for all its wistful future mountains
And water color sunrise potential
Its still a never-now dream
And pointless for every fiber that is non-brain
On this the worse day of your life

beauty is infinite
infinity is beautiful

the mess you sent

Don't patronize me
i'm more than just a pretty face
Free
tonight I saw a fire fly, i named it after you
look at the moon, I painted it orange just like you asked
honey do me a favor
in the morning
make sure the door is locked on the truck
and call me later
In Russia car drives you
I'd appreciate some involvement next time
and tell him please he can't get a man pregnant no matter how hard he tries
you're pretty when you're fixing cigarettes
so please don't hold it against me, i have unavoidable feelings for you
but i promise i wont act on them, they're a byproduct of my life
i do love you but i can love you like a friend and nothing more
dear girl
as long as you don't feed into my disease
everything's gonna be fine, i promise
I want to give you some magick to practice.
Remind me of the middle pillar.
When you're ready to sleep....that's when they cry.
lost without me you say?
No you're not. You're lost with me. fun kisses music poetry wine pretty eyes muse laughter
well i like you babydoll
and I've changed my name to Jocque Ace
this is what i pay you for?
I am strong enough to punch a horse to sleep
and slap some cops!
ah yes the fire place
two boxes of wine = classy
if you want to dream, that's the key thing
the mice the people we know, everybody, i had a moment of grand concern
i just want my children to be happy and successful
I had to kneel on broomsticks to make it go away
I'll just wait in the middle
if that's indeed okay...

live

I smoke too much and there’s this lingering feeling of unaccomplished talent within myself, if I could just concentrate on one thing I could get that thing done. I write, I play my guitar, im buying art supplies to start painting, I drink, heavily, wait tables, converse too often with lawyers, not enough with new characters, dream of moving away, stare blankly at walls, enjoys brisk autumn air, continue to watch too much television, believe in a life spent outside the norm, continue not working out enough, eat too much, and poorly, envy fictional characters, resent real ones, think about too many girls, and the wrong ones, outgoing and introspective, drug use, meddle, speak my mind, stare at an unused camera, blink instinctively, throw cigarettes butts out the window, eat tuna fish regularly, lay in my bed far too often, waste beautiful days, think of humorous situations from the past, bite my nails, shave every three to five days, don’t comb my hair, drive drunk, drink wine to sleep, stay awake too late every night, need to find it.

My head spins as uncontrollably as my eyes blink. I think to myself im having fun but there are millions of things better I could be doing with all this time I waste, and now at 358 in the morning I get up to write my story of how I think things are going so far.
Drive.


Believe there’s one better out there for you. One step higher than the one you’ve stepped to.
You can always climb a latter, just getting in the shower is a step in itself.

Grow from here.
Take lessons, write.
Play.
Paint.
Get a second job, get out of debt, you can always get drunk.
Money makes this sad thing turn, you gotta make some or find another way.
Keep throwing out the butts, but, less and less the packs and cellophane.
Introspect your outroflection.
Hand your self the keys, and strike up the pick once a day.
Get those paints and brushes, slowly build an army.
Connect your self with the right people you don’t need.
Throw a penny off the top of a high-rise.
Eat a large meal after you go running at night.
Smoke your cigarettes, leave some wine for a friend.
Go to sleep as your body sees fit.
Don’t explain, incorporate.
Brush your hair if it makes you happy.
You don’t have to worry about driving drunk for a while.
Go to sleep after writing yourself a story you don’t like.
Lob a hand grenade when they hold a machine gun to your head.
Bring yourself to every country state and city you’ve always wanted to see.
Forget calling people friends, just their names.
Don’t think too much about what they say.
Talk to yourself when someone’s listening.
Throw the grenade.
Eat the forbidden apple.
Live where no one wants to.
Embrace pain.
Live.

lets go crazy for a month,
like lunatic monks in ecstacy
forgeting to breathe

lets be wild for a week,
you in frantic motion
and me condensing like rain

lets be a mess for a day,
naked and like so many embers
catching fire in the brush

lets fuck it all for an hour
'cause you got the air on your side
and I got the earth on mine

lets have a time for just a minute
when even a minute
can cover untold miles


lets explode right now

newcentury choir

you got some bad information
somebody steered you wrong, babe
telling you about the temperature neon burns,
the bright pain on yer retinas -

close those eyes and trace that
scar with crayon, some kid'll
tell you it looks a lot like
Ghandi dressed up in flashy rayon suit,
singing
"got money for nothing and my chicks for free"

he knew that revolution con game -

shoot out a few walls or
don't eat for a few months
and soon your face is on a
t-shirt, or some college kid's screen saver

feet scraping the road is the newcentury choir

I'm lost in a thousand Americas

eyes like yours were made to crumble walls

Stars Wars Episode Eleventeen: The Clone Fashion Wars

you don't have to limp faster
to have your limbs fastened
we've been waiting for you

surgical circus clergical
all cleaned up for the imperial
manufactured by appointment

send us more human parts
send us more human hearts
keep the clones coming off the belt

send us the machina
deus ex machina
esproc namuh a gniraew si enihcam eht
just like the humans like to wear overcoats
and call them their epidermal hosts
humans wearing human's coats
humans dancing in skin coat corpse
without a pulse it's just a fashion for the machines

When all the love we shared
Is no further than a phone call
And all the hardships swallowed
By the wall clock and calendar
We can eat together and laugh
Laugh like only divorcées can laugh
And share the drinks and clink our glasses
Cheers-in’ what we made each other
Cheers-in’ who we are for knowing

i've 12,000 years in this voice
and it's transistor whispers,
fuzzy around the edges
when you listen late at night
for an answer
or even just someone else's prayer
'

i remember
the break neck
cocaine moments
where i spun u clumsily
in the other worldly light
and the lyric was just so dead on
cuz caught up in the whole frozen notion
the world spinning
slowed down sudden
and it felt like
"this was the first day of my life
i feel i was born
right
in the doorway"

all these words
just shots in the dark
at women's hearts
and publishers' pockets

a thousand empty eyed
indians dying
in a midnight vision
drowned in cold sweat
the ghost of the west
with cold cold breath

Double Bypass

I can imagine him under the bright lights
Getting carved up like a pumpkin

And is there anything
More spine-chilling

So somehow
The gore

The suspense

And the reminder of mortality

Fit right in
This Halloween season

a star
is an apocalypse
of itself

and beauty freind
is just the taste of destruction

the color of blood
so sexy in the right lighting

war from a million miles away
makes me go "awww"
cuz its fireworks
are softer
on the retinas

commin down
off the acid
in this rest stop at the end of a universe
eating Mcdonalds fat
straight off the sacred cow
with postwar litter
and an apocalypse sky
dissolving
in the night
under fusion eyes
and interstate noise

the mass
the mass
of blown out hippie trash
blown out a back end
of an american dreaming
after the show
these wind washed souls
and their eye socket ghosts
unknowingly
following
visions
of kerouac
kesey
cassidy
and dust suspended
in the parking lot light
and the jam still going and going going and going on and on and going on
in their
lit up brains

the legen of buffalo meat
drying in the sun
all these ghosts and visions
from fairy tale history

all these ghosts and visions
of cigarette smoke
and worn jeans
of the men we could have been
been in childhood sunsets

yeah well
give me blessed coffee in mornings
and cursed booze in the darkness

these creatures
with silver angel wings
and
pearly fangs
sucking at my aorta
and
carrying me off to dreams
forgotten
or
thrown away

the jukebox neons
and
leather interiors
of unholy
american automobiles
Johny Cash's
voice
and my
transparent bottom of the bottle
sins
under all these night eyeball stars
and old world myths

then
crimson folk rock
with the sun rising
on it just right

poet idle
in the car with Morrissey
crooning slow
the empty ghost
whispers
of the shopping plaza
torment
half open eyed
visions
cuz this is life
and this is death
and this is time
and the world the world the world

chilled air
clotting the ink
and synapses
and capillaries
so that words
jumble
and heavenly
inspired thoughts
back up
and trip
ugly mess
and ruin

sunset halo
and autumn sky

these catskill promises
of freedom
and wind
in grass on mountainside
dissolve angelic
in the afternoon

the world shaking
the sun
birthed this morning
apocalypse red

New Idiom website

You can now check out past issues of the idiom on its new and improved webiste. www.theidiommag.com also check to see if there are any mistakes in your work.

I've cried more in the past two days (no worries, it's welcome) than I have this whole past year.....

...just thought ya should know,
considering I just met you all in a bar.

What is Caesar's?

so i stumble (stumble), hobble up that crooked cobblestone road
high on static (magic), cranes whooping swooping sway
sugar crystal bristles (shrill), staining the footprints of my neck
spacing the words you forget
chafing the thighs of self-contempt
an anchor of sorrow hoisted high but still heavy
it would seem that i'm ready

and it's like i'm standing on the summit of Golgotha
when i reach the prime of this life
a 23 year long march to deliver a thief
it's oh so compelling or do i mean dispelling

Neoteny

The kitten hasn’t died
When the cat is grown
Ask yourself where passion goes
When at last its gone

Suggestion then to jingle again
Like the spanked tambourine
When chastised in the first place
For youthful jingling

And drinking from the fountain
Of the smilers rebellion

They smile unaware
Unaware of their own revolt
Not in attempt to save themselves
or “buy the world a coke”

they smile because their not afraid
and because it feels so right
they know without knowing
the difference between
growing-up and being uptight

One example we may fallow
And a secret of theirs may be
To jingle like a tambourine
And untie monotony
To fallow passion wherever it goes
And set our soul kittens free
To live without timeline black and white
To practice Neoteny

I’ve got a game
Where I play god

But it’s not quite as fulfilling
As the other one

I play a fish breeder

Saved and Spare

take the change
pennies tossed to the street
lost the right way
back to a heart ache
could pour cold steel
down the back of my throat
could pull at the triggers
could hold back and choke
cause I’m more afraid of love
than the tears that never come
so scared of sitting still
but not afraid to run
could be a coward
or lost to the over glaze
but I know just when I’ve found it
and when it’s gone astray

so take the change
as pennies tossed to the street
run them under water
baptize their memory

north korea's got nucleur weapons

well
all i gotta say is
'bout fuckin time
where the hell they been

so maybe the blessed road is like crazy time
cuz neither got no beginnin
or no end
cept the ones relative
to you

treasure
is
autumn eyes blinking

he was blown out
simply
and she was
a night of children and sparklers
spinning

parking lot

the dust kickin up
and the ghost of jerry
hummin mystic blues
was it incense or pot
among the dreadlocks
and music

time's been tough on the search for possible replacements
for a 20th century talk-pattern to pretty up
the ghosts of the memories of junked trains
dragging us over the distance of this
one wild land, winds of dust leaving a layer
as abrasive as a sandpaper heart and a
concrete kiss.

So yeah, I guess I'm worn down to the bone,
bleached in the sun like what happens to
all the great gunslingers...

if it didn't rain all year, this would be
the perfect desert, 'cause you, I know
you're a mirage, all shimmery and
mystical...

visions in blinding color

naked visions




I'll wait for the new world at dawn

kiss me here
right now
and don't think about anything spinning around us
in all these periodic elements
cuz i don't believe the past is real anymore
and the future surely comes
with no guarantee

so girl, really
this is all we got

harmonica soundtrack
and all this folky adventure

we were the worn and dirtied hats
of a mythic burnt down american dreaming
we were the momentary disappearing sparks
from a dead zippo

but the holy steam engine
made bright blue morning
possible again

when the little boy on the hiltop with his ripped jeans shields his eyes from the sun and stairs out into the existence and all the whirling isness, will he see us striding mirage across that thin line where heaven makes love to earth or just another bit of marble with etched words

the coal mines and the steal bridges
when the wind hits em just right
howl out infinite songs and ohm
simply ohm
simply ohm and on
like white noise
the sound of it all
ringing in ears that can't hear it
cuz its just to much perfect shining holy

be white noise with me
i can't think of a better plan for the afternoon

really
do all yous believe
quiet tongue
that i can do a billion
impossibles
in the rapture night?

cuz
let me say
mine eyes
have seen these
miracle children
dance whole universes
up from the dust
in instants
transcendent
and out of time

all we have is the miracle
and the night and the dust

shooting star
up there in the holy nothing
shatter me
these handfuls of morphine visions
from months ago
and rest stop romances
can't hold me together
for much longer
cuz true being is combustion
as hot as it gets
and we like the sun
can't stay one
forever

limits

all the flaming words
from a thousand bearded poets
can light the jagged path
but can't do shit to walk it

Sailing the Euphrates on Opium a year ago

My Dark Daddy’s telling dirty jokes to the wealthy woman on the sofa,

So far things are a going so good,

Sewing circle,

Assembly,

‘Pardon me’ the prim say

As they push past hip, tall, long neck, slight drawl,

Dark hair with them baby blues,

No square with them new shoes,

And in this locale only live wire star fires, lovers

But yes, sadly yes

Coming to an end

Babylon tomorrow,

Sun’s rising now.

at least I kept my feet dry

at least I kept my feet dry, while puncturing
rainstorms kept blowing
and rivers of spoken worlds kept flowing
with precision, clashing at the bleeding seams.

all 12 giants are made of nickel, and movement
seems a concept so quaint
like when you're moving but you ain't,
stayed in seconds, watching already over dreams,

Where each night, with our spins making us fools,
letting Time go by,
to where laws don't apply
and a kiss just means whatever it means.

with lack of oxygen

another face to cross off your list
of uncommitted climactic conquests
although it wasn’t made easy
wandering through the rough terrain
the terror of falling a stress on the brain
caught short of breath
an occasional toppling rock to the head
as you stumble carelessly into the mountain
without the necessary equipment
the right approach left to be said
never realizing how hard it could be to forget
the chasms the peak of her left
the earthquake of her soul at rest
with lack of oxygen

With quickness, wispily it kissed the fists flung at it
Ducking too and darting to truth or happiness
Some who witnessed this claimed its precedence
But it did not agree
It moved in flicker quicker to change and maintain the distance
It had till now
In floundering frailty found tied down in captivity
Its soul so stifled
So sanitized in an atmosphere desensitized
Not unlike a firefly whose light grows dimmer in the jar
Its weightless brightness fades in days like these

The beach in the winter is a much different sight, a far cry from the bosom marked by tourists gaping mouths that is the jersey shore in summers full swing. There is a peace and calm that comes with the sharp bite of brisk air steaming in off the water along with all the scallop boats and bluefish charters.

Even the gulls have calmed.

The sky and the ocean meet at a color unseen in months, the wisp of winter clouds mingle like a reunion of friends from different cultures and backgrounds cast away during the warmer times.The sky that shows through blends to a perfection atop a cold blue sea.

The waves roll in with ease.

The blades of grass bounce along the tops of the dunes. Afternoon joggers and an asian fisherman pass by. He fishes this spot with assertion, claiming it. The wind cracks my lips. I rejoice acceding with it.

a feeling

driving through sunlit afternoon. the sky shattered with painful silence, cracks running light speed to seek and kill the four cardinal directions. chest emptied into the vacuum for lack of atmosphere. the whole world took on the moment and static of cocain sunrise. the lights came up fast over the credits and the images and fantasies weren't any less real, they werew simply past. now i don't know if you believe in the past, i don't know if i do either. but the decision still stands in this dull now light with the rows of theatre seats and the popcorn spill to the left. outside that fire exit door... sarte mumbling about fear and trembling.

Maria's Number two or so

I hate when bastards like this come in. We dont need a menu!!! we know what we want, bottle # 31, special package, repeating thier order, repeating thier order, repeating thier order for lowly waiter boy---you don't know kid, thats why your waiting tables. Mommy and Daddy dind't set me up a trust they kick me out then charge me rent. The special mussles kid not the common folk ones repeating thier order repeating thier order repeating thier order for lowly waiter boy---Kid we need the bottle water and two glasses with ice in em, and im the one who doesnt know. extra onions on the salad repeating thier order repeating thier order repeating thier order for lowly waiter boy---heres your food, anything else? were set. and you knew it right from the start. ill take your ten percent tip. i gotta work for this living. and ill see you next sunday.

Brighton bar last wednesday

i went outside to smoke a cigarette, I found myself in saearch of the perfect place to take a piss. The troubles I had, the dive bars ive sat on a toilet in, but no, I had to find the perfect place tonight. So I turned right and found myself in a field of grass. Beautiful oasis that it was I was distraught to find a sign saying "no parking, private property". I took this as "parking my urine, federal offense". so my drunk ass took off and found that spot behind my car and as my release was well anticipated, I slowly gazed skyward. My eyes rested upon some constellation resembling a martini glass. how befitting my situation, as I was releasing just that which once could have come from this constellation, pouring straight down from those stars. How glorified I make taking a piss.

yeah, the
sky's bright aflame
and holding seconds still
while the gravel catches a spill
of a missed drop of whiskey

coaster rhyme

Winds scream violently past ears burned by words spoken through clenched teeth
unannounced you walk through my doorway though i leave my door breached
rising past a stumbled demeanor your falter goes noticed
I attend to your needs too scarred and drunk to protest
A glass falls to the floor and we shatter into thousands of peices
we take each other home and drink wine and help each other to our desired release
I awake after the prophetic stimulation pleases and take a stand
I tell you to leave my house and a ride in mine yours demand
I take back the wine abd shrug shoulders of indeffernce
You leave my car and my mind smiles with thoughts of your splendiferousness.

To some the magic of numbers, invisible
To some the wine stains, Rorschach
Perception and misdirection
And hungry woman’s eyes unblinking

Are these things in you?
Hamburgers
Ash
Christmas lights
Pages
Bulls’ blood?

Don’t ask who wants to know.

I can’t tell you.

I think you may be starving
So ask for you to take of me
Lick you may
But never taste my milk and honey
That takes laps not licks
And more patience with this world

So instead you starve your soul
And make little cuts in you psyche
The abuse of the immature in you internalized

But I only offer the divine victuals through Them
And know by Them not to force
It is not Their way

So I am not the holy you are used to
And will not wait or beg for followers
Will not wait or beg for you
Sour starving bleeding child

five o'clock lush and the hair in my brush

5:30pm and I
must be getting weaker
unless they’ve made it harder
for alcoholics to be
better at what they do

forced the bottle opened
the cork slips out
like old friends
that I don’t give the time
to sit and catch a breath

now I’ve got a pair of scissors
that threaten every strand
and the redder I get
there’s more of a chance
that they carry out their plan

do it all completely
the wine and locks left out
cause every cut has meaning
and I wont let my head
weigh this heart down

i will hang by the neck to the death
short-changed of justice and breath
a smile growing
concordant with the bloating
the lips of it bursting with bastion decisiveness
i will hang by the neck to the death
never having laid in your bed on my back
and spreading open my stilts
as my eyes fill with blood and turn to black
you will envy me
you will loathe me
you will adore me

...and she could have you know.

...she rolled over the floor, sweeping with her hair all the miniscule dust particles that collect on the cobwebs in the corners, forgetting her own accumutated years of fine spun webbing like lace yellowed with age and the numerous overbearing responsabilities back home waiting. She sees her drab hands crumple around the splintered shovel once again...to dig out of or into another hole. There was no difference anymore.

she could have....waited one second longer. Thought in that moment fleeting. A lifetime of new sky reborn under her falling lashes....

bleed that old ass heart of yours

your a little bit of a gentleman on a prostitution silver dollar
just a long book of sonnets never read but thought over
i'm endearing if you have a couple condoms

so i've ssen a grand canyon and tomorrows burst with lightnings kiss
but i'll remember for the lifetimes how you felt in evenings nakedness

drop an a flat on my minor with a topless charade
i found perfection in an open bar with fingers from the grave
and let me contimplaite addiction whilst a steel mill whistle blows
just a dreadful inhabition
that forever musn't know

by the smell of your fear

it seems you’ve simplified your life
by leaving the truth in my eyes behind
and if that’s the road you’ve decided to take
I wont blame you for my mistake

I guess I can
end as just
a flash of light
reflecting dust

lost in some
far fold of your mind
one honest moment
in that blink of time

the cat’s been sleeping on my pillow
right next to my head
these movements
more recent
and she purrs all night through
some, you may not know of
the medicine in those
motorboat vocal chords
well cats, they purr to mend
those vibrations help repair
broken bones and other ailments
and I wonder what’s wrong with my head

drive nails through my feet
and barely bleeding
watch me walk away

I’ve got a lost mans cigarettes
and I wonder if he left
with my thought still in his heart

comes and goes

left the night
and moon yours
hers
was old and red

left the morning
in your bed
fresh white linens
shaking heads

left the noon
and mid-day traffic
lines formed
often tragic

left the days
that break like glass
from your future
back to the past

left you standing
swollen if that
filled with hope
and no regret

we all close our eyes the same way....

what yall left me with

at 4pm....
when
you get home
i'll still be druk
and more alone
but content
under liquiors frame
and more or less
less deranged
and all the wine
on parkways time
has hit me harder
than you can define
but i'll be drunk
more than you know
more than the wistleling winds
can blow


here's to the words tomorrow will reflect
here's to the ones I wont forget
here's to the time we might have spent
on the all the minds we might have met
and the eggs we all consume to digest

now i can't even see the screen
to post the time that might have been
so I wont look
untill days break
of all to thoughts I've left at stake

here's to the spin
i fall in
and to a time
i won't foget

A Quiet Murder In A Snowstorm

detached from warm remembers
and ribboned on the throat
detached from carpal members
sacked in his own coat
detached sometime in november
and left for the appraiser
nickels turned to shackles
earth made into mud
bound for no more than homeward
but bound and spun undone

A Shameful Glare

they aren't even cold and you are molesting their corpses
it's inconceivable that you imagined yourself their caretaker
and now the only comfort they could have
is the warmth of the cum on the tip of your deepest compassion
shunned of emotion in life
showered with your tacky spiders crawling up and down
their barely completed death throes
spotted with the baptism of your saliva
and shamed shamed shamed
solely by your detestable eyes

let the cat in your mind die.

i'll bet you've got perfect tense
but stay home
i imagine you have intense vibration
nevertheless, do not drag your unsigned parchment of grand ideas
kicking and screaming through an unwilling night
particularly when your destination is a defunct morgue
and all your notaries of an imagined public are inside,
decaying, rotting,
and moreover, plotting.
stay home.

~*JB

....its never over, shes a tear that hangs inside my soul forever....


its not too late...

....if you can still see through blindness

...for what is missed and misunderstood, where your mind blinks and washes away hate down your cheeks in pools of remorse at your feet...

...where eventually after every rain even the unknown mouse it has a name, as do all the rest and the watchers too...

...so hearts may feel wicked and souls go stale with power, the gleam off canine teeth, hour after every wretched hour of racing round the wheels like so, never fully letting go...

...the over-analyzation of gods extraordinary creations down to every last squeak and snip, the ones that don't break through the skin, just tenderly warn but firm like thorns, can be yet madding beyond the screams...

...and those will envy the whimsical shoes on the barest of feet, ones in the light, of the light they can't reach, reflecting it's every hue, the ones that can dance with a heart that is true...

...true is a heart that does not hate, free is a man who recognizes his fate, dead is a mind that has no fear, lost is a soul without friendship near...

so i put on some tangerine lipgloss and answered the door...i was one lucky woman...

i saw old redwoods
whisper
secrets of forgotten religion
out on a california highway

enshrouded in the grey hangover
of her snakeskin eyes

they always said
there were dreams deferred
and all the old poets
died with a smoker's cough

where are the dead pirate's dreamings
like black spindles
spiders weaving

cuz the night is the ghost of the day
and the floorboards creek
with the scent of bourbon glories

long forgotten figment reflections
in bobbing eyes
and dark locked
window pains

2 short ones

marx six armed in the heavens
shaking six index fingers my way
as i labor in the sun

sunset butterflys
and the american workhorse
courting johny walker

i remember
pain pills
like christmas
and once in a great while
we wake up
mistaken
in each others arms
or you
in my army jacket
or me still
pitterin around
the inside
of yr eyelids
and then
the moon reminded her
of all the things
the other self
needs to do
in mornings

you wanna talk
about forgotten dreams
and the Byzantines
with drunk old me
under these star streams
all the cosmos rushing by
you and words and me
under this meaning soaked sky
yeah babe, thats just fine

chunks

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
the glass in the street catches your eye and you can’t see
your mile, my marker and the sweat off a hot poker
branded faces, forgotten paces
all the places where your heart burns
and the hair on the back of your neck curls

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
can’t hide from the light and
your skin starts to tighten
you try to fight and
finding resistance
can’t break through the restraints
the wine crawling up yer feet
the time lost between blinks

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
the sunshine behind her strands of hair
forgotten there
no one is as intense as you are
silent dream stalker

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
background voice in a birdcage
the minor tune you just played
hair a mess
strings aflame
talking with the unknown fame

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
she falls to her knees
takes in a passing mountain breeze
wind through her hair
and down her cheek streams
a trail of tears that leads
back towards eastern shores

~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
watch you take down that shot
the same as you breathe
could give you all i got
but you insist you wanna drink
could’ve been your rhythm
if you’d just take the lead
but i can no longer sit here
watching your stomach bleed
there's a door that you opened
now it's time, i take my leave

1.618

still i wonder who'll stop the rain

Idiot wind and malcontent
for the worthless endeavors you've been trained and prepared

all that is yours is misguided lies
but please remain certain that a bomb is a person disguised as truth

and death is but one mans end while life is the perused of explosive unrest.

don't settle for less when more is desired

and progress will be your passion as failure will cease to follow those who do not fear!

sweet princess of truth and solitude, the ties that bind the oppressed to the free are satin and beautiful, but do not forget the blood of the innocent spilled without reason and regretted by thought.

war is a hell created by men without morals and carried out by cowards with no objections to idiocy.

one more simple revolution

all ye peaants and paupers
ye kings and wordsmiths

the end of greed and death is upon us

the old ways of plakard and protest are behind and the call for reason means only that you and i have a common goal.

distractions aside and memorials to boot, this is a chance oportunity.

can you see it?
just beyond the horizon it waits for your eyes to move in unison with your hearts. the vitals have been checked and the pulse of this baron land has gone cold and dead.

all that is left are the ideas of men who refused to stand idle and watch as their freedoms and rights be destroyed.

a simple invitation to you my dear comrades, to join in the struggle of all mankind to be free from fear and hatred and pain.

simply refuse to walk in line and you too shall know what i know:

that the truth can not be covered with news reels and worthless ink

and that tommorrow can trutly be what today has failed to be;

ours for the taking.

Because calendars are imperfect

About 15 minuets from now something
Like a rubber band maybe
Will snap and solve in me
And my own September will start
And all the little loose ends
Ropes, twine, and wire
That have been wiggling and drooping
And tripping or tying me up
Will fall out or reel back
And I’ll stand up real straight
And get some shit done
…
So when the days are perfect
Orange, yellow, and savory
I’ll have all my wheat and grain in a row
With no cord or coil to stumble on
And we can play grasshopper together

Lunch like a month ago

He wants the world
To play golf in grave yards
A good idea
I admit
But in my
Cavernously empty - at the moment - mind
Awkward geometry filled
And spilled
into my response
Angles?
In my blank eyes
And I think I’ll steal your pretty words

Morning talk

"Get out of my bed."
"No."
"I love you."
"Shut up."
"Will you stay another night?"
"Yeah."

Poetry for poetry's sake

I have much to write and not so much time to write it in. I have all the free time in the world nowadays yet when I have that time I have no inclination to write. Empty words stare across pages yet I cannot find an order to put them in. When I want to write I have not the time. Ill be out doing something like working or getting acquainted with Jack or Morgan. I cannot write for the sake of writing like my so called friends. I dislike most of what they write anyway. Not enough comes of the steel black onto the parch. More words are flushed down the drain than see the dark of a book page. Little sparrows making better conversation than I, and I begin to, slowly now, write. And when these birds are finished talking Ill be done writing. I wonder what poetry they sing up in their trees.

Starved

love doesn’t come in prepackaged portions
for convenience or meaningless consumption
love is raw and consequential
in itself experimental
never intentional
always selfless
not to be left out or freezed dried
on the back of a forgotten shelf

changing seasons

your heart’s like flowers between Fall leaves
springing only when necessary
and without the blowing wind
unnoticed completely

Bay Breeze and Chlorine

I could have sworn I felt you in me
if for moments only
seeping through me
foreign skins
accosting
drenched bodies
seeping through me
breaking, blazing, scaring
bruised thighs
and your heat

if it's gonna get better

it’s still dieing
and he’s laid back watching

while she bleeds and cries
tears washing blood from her thighs

it’s still dieing
he’s just laid back watching
feet up yawning

she’s still bleeding now screaming
outstretched hand begging
back broken
legs tangled
bleach sheets red and
it’s still dieing

he’s now sleeping
the raise and fall of melodic breathing
is all he can feel and

she’s still bleeding
can barely breathe in
through her chest heaving
eyes closing
blood pressure falling
it’s dead now and
she’s dieing

and no self induced opiate sleep
his nightmare or dream
could erase her face
the stains and pain
from the morning
or the light

he sits alone
his body cold
hers still warm
he’s dead
always was
long before
the child
and the woman
motionless beside him

Swallowed the Pit

Can feel the tongue inside my mouth inside her mouth
inside your mouth without a doubt and if she can find
within herself the way to let you live without
the affliction and self mutilation, conviction and addiction
to the glass waste and neck of a woman without respect
for the ones who care for you and truly mean what they do

47.

That old black cat attacks at midnight screamin 'bout the old days
talkin somethin funny
and stealing shots from stray paths and precious ways
hissin at me to struggle
to fight back
playing to hard
playing to hard
your worlds a little abstract
walk away kid
walk away

48.

Hate the state today
Love the way the birds make her play
kicking long blue lines out the window
morning heat
throw me something new cat
throw me something new

49.

high arcs
loooong drops
take away all that jive
bring me the swingin breeze
Cool in my hair
makes my face dance
radiant light shines on the sweat of the morning
light as a feather early in the day
crisp in the afternoon
salt in my hair and eyes
feeling jubilation
get away for a day and sweatin for the ride

A Bite From Where The Shadows Form

where to run under
shared shaded covers
pooling like unconditional love
soothing like friendy voices on the wind
a sight like yours both warm and sore
where the day bleeds out the night
in tormented desires light
not unleech-like
I miss you,
like no other
and will I write
unspoken lover
could it be only wine passed by
like unforgiving endless time
where a firefly's light would surely die
out under swollen sediments
and congregating developments
of excrement like the water from your eyes
dripping down into mine
could it be
I miss your light
or is it just
the drink tonight
and the taste of bood
upon the lip I bite
that brings your face
into my mind

the loose conection in Broca's Area

what of this strange and shapless form
to reckless to be tied down or worn
where are the lines
we can’t define
but still deny
well I don’t mind
not knowing
where this began or where we’re going
without the all lines for following
the road can run as free
as it is beneath our feet
and for words I lack the speech

For In-Between the Buildings

every time I buckle under
the weight left on my heart
every time I tell myself
you’re really not far off
only fallen apples and cities away
and under each new sun
I hope you awake
to a kind smiling face
so you can start your day
full of life, like me

Scraping the esophagus of thought to the point of coughing unnoticed in a crowded room.

i drew on the paper sky
i'm sorry i made a mistake
across as a blinking eye
i missed out
i missed out
with the stars
don't ask me if i lied about
seeing the blinking stars
what is earth? - (don't tell him)
it's a spaceboy comin from the sky
to tell me about who the stars really are
"i am the storm,
please don't be scared"
i am two stars
too close together
skin so warm
thank you for your light
on a scary night

BULLETIN

To whom it concerns, and moreover to whom it doesn't, Pull The Plug has finally released our first full length album, The Water Mara. This is the first record anyone's heard from us in a long time so it's kind of a big friggin deal. Pick it up at a show, and soon you can order it online, along with stickers, shirts, and buttons. Or just ask one of the band members. The CD is only $5 at our shows and $10 otherwise (so go to the shows). For more info, go to Pull The Plug's myspace page.

if seeing is believing
dear friend
I certainly believe in you

but i don't wanna inflame your ego

I could write about your face
and the smile you bring to mine
the ringing in my ears
and the ever lasting echo that is you....

if you're kerosene
then i want to be your spark

if you're a candle
then i want to be your dark

maybe i drink too much

you’re like the sweating condensation
off my glass onto the table
where without protection
an immutable ring is left there
to mark your perpetual exsistance

it's like this

it’s the violent shift between forth and fifth
keys change. heads lift
and tomorrow’s sorrow’s like a subtle lisp

‘yeah yeah yeah,
they don’t love you like i love you’

as another country side rolls subtly by
and the jersey shore silently crys’
you ask what it’s like.?
anyone can write, it’s ink paper and life
placed and paced down over extensive devotion or movements of emotion

‘yeah yeah yeah
they don’t love you like i love you’

there’s time for us all
and a time for to stand down and fall,
and i’m all about not givin up
but
sleep has it’s way whether i like it or not
and i‘m moreover convinced that i’ve come home to rest
and time
at it’s best
is of me at and an end

simple things children
simple things....
like her ocean...
that’s a good one
like my trees
and the sway in them
all the wine and time
where faces blur
but you know you're fine like
wind through hair
or the memory sents
in fresh cut grass
and the child like ways that linger there
and all the children’s care free childhood cares

wait
they don’t...
like i....
you....

every notes exit wound
every shots on time tune
every bands fatal beat and groove

‘they don’t love you
like i love you’

someone, if they could, please tell father time to sit back and watch
just in case he wants any face to grace this place for more than the time it takes for you to
wait....

cause i’m tired,
but moreover convinced that i’ve come home to rest
oh the distraction of those memory sents
make one want to exists but
wait

it’s like this.....

walking to the inky, ancient night, and
the dance of concrete up against cigarette
smoke, when the right breath means all
the open notes,

hovering and, in this instance, yer beauty
is drawn as sketchy as refracted hymns
shimmering off the spark, dangerous and hazy,
a moment in a crisp moon drenched pool

Like the rainbows that ride the fine mist behind waves

Like the sleek seabirds that skim snowy bellies so close to the surf

Like the chime and rattle of a thousand brightly colored shells

That’s what its like

the holes in my back

your banter and ruse and clever misfortune
the words are not free here and you certainly can’t afford them
so pawn everything you ever thought was true, snap the cables burn all the wood
find yourself you
hung broken and used
drained like pen and ink and all the wasted paper shredded wet in the sink
your lost causes, your guilt, and every time you decided it was the better idea to throw aside
your life for anothers
cause all good goes unnoticed these days
and every poor excuse for a human heart has more than one face
fuck the blissful and ignorant, I’d rather the bitter blood in these veins
cause if you can’t live on the blind side you’ve already lost half the fight
join up the circus, all the cackling fools, gorge, lust, night life, and endless amounts of booze
you’re still unhappy in the daylight where your remaining nerve endings sizzle
twitching at the true feeling of innocence you can no longer grip well
there’s just one more smile atop the ever increasing pile of liars
lost and found pieces
and I’m sure gettin tired
so here’s to smashing the masks at the front door
and to living this life who we all really are
my bed is as opened
and a heart longs for more
grab the wind while you can, it was ment to be yours
cause there's stolen eyes like a fascist's surprize
on too many late faces all over this nation
that I trip and fall
and you own the floor

gotten dizzy
from boomerang motion
on this road,
welcoming me like a
prodigal sun
shining bright over
endless plains ahead of me,
the continent as a hammock
strung out (like me) between
two lonesome seas,
sagging and dragging under
the weight of the highway
and the hearts trapped,
stuck motionless in the
spider web tapestry of
unlikely trajectories, silver
rainbows and repeating legends

they'll all be at the bars tonight
with dollar drinks
these holy ghosts
and empty eyes
girls that sway
and moonlight
and sweat

in the bad lighting
she was suntan and saliva and limbs

i was lost hope
and the aftertaste of glory sunset

the moon was an echo
of a million years
all pock marcked

these las vegas eyes
and tombstone hands
cuttinn the rug up

yer all 7s and 8s baby
all day and all night

you got flourescent gas in yer lungs
and marque lips

but the gumption and the gas powers
burnin yer gut
cant hold out forever

for the dancing
the feet
and the trees in the wind
soft shoe tonight
cuz in this lighting
i aint got strength to jitterbug

the art of lonliness
is an inspiring thing

We sit and write these pages
then burn them one by one.

on the subject of passion

you never go ass to mouth

chains unbound on sun drenched shores of no where

too many days blur wine and shine and breath between friends i can't dance with
sunflower explosion in the middle of october when the dairy farms produce sand by the gallon
oh whistful youth devided
wrapped in celaphane and dynamite
just a cough and a whisper between a man and his mouse
going fruitful passionate along an unsure highway while the talk of towns is distant they can hear the rumbling of the motor and the music pouring strong as any whiskey

Missouri Wine

Saw the night sky filled
with pin prick lights
like buck shot thru
a thick, black curtain

dirtroad charm kicks dust
up into yr eyes
and I suppose the earth is lonesome
enough to make that horizon certain

found a creek perfect
for wasting my time,
a night with no memories
and a bottle of Missouri wine

this land's got a grip
like it needs eyes
to make a move and
when it does you crumble

the air here is sweet
but the gravity tastes like medicine
maybe another cigarette will
make the night more humble

this creek is perfect
for wasting my time -
a night with no memories
and a bottle of Missouri wine

Lawrence, Kansas

shooting stars over Lawrence, Kansas
burning green, like wayward fireworks

like us, they're angles falling
shattered into dust, blanketing this forgotten world
and dying for the heavens they left behind

and of this world remeber
dancing free and running downhill
pockets fat with corn and dust from dry clay roads
in every corner music boils in the rat holes while the waltz preceeds the tango and disco wasn't born but stiffled in it's initial conception
no man has a key to a home they've not withdrawn from
and in the pussy willow after thoughts of burnt lips and malnutrition
we walk on with glass shard trampled underfoot forming a lasting impression on ourselves

note to self

the night, and i awoke to fading hues
listless, without the will to move
and once again for all your hearts
i got up and got in the car

now, i leave each night without regret
even when the moneys spent
but last night sure left me hanging
crumbling ledges, fingers broken

then all went red and I lost time
and by the way Missouri whine,
the dreams were never remembered
and mornings work was never attended

ich

livingston and i decree.stop.the moral ambiguity.stop.of coral door and hangmans noose.stop.the beauty of the lipstick bruises.stop.can you telephone with news of hope.stop.or is your bill oustanding.stop.tie a yellow ribbon round the place where you dispise.stop.lick a micraphone or a light socket and fry babe.stop.i live to see the hair stand on end.stop. and if i'm the cause then i can deal with you in stiches.stop.and i split in my good side.stop.lets cremate somthing special.stop.and mix the ashes into ice tea mix.stop.for better or for worse.stop.and the deal with nomenclature is really just a hollow log.stop.with teeth enough for five.stop.and ambition enough for numerology to rethink its boundries.stop.

I do

you’d think all the tiny flakes of glass
embedded deep in these retinas
would turn tears colours like crimson
afterbirth and intertwining circulatory systems
while shredding the light out in little skinny ribbons

it would appear to those who were left, bound to see clear
bound to their beds, lost in their mess
left to digest all the broken bone bits choked down
a glass of thick salt sweat, beading on raw meats
a night cap of chloroform boredom

and you’re safer to assume that with hands like yours
all the fingers and chords
ripping out tunes faces to the floor
and all the curves of every girl in the room spin
back to the bar begging for more

just a thumb roughly running up her
at the back of her neck and the base of her spine,
all pricking in time, vows and heroin
needles like old lovers
fucking up her posture

you’d wonder, wouldn’t you

you can have yr moments
and keep them in a box
wrapped up neat and put away
bound with chains and locks
just barely in yr thoughts

I got no need for any
walled up, hidden repository
cause these wild motions
leave as a trace only the story,
all this world has got for me

darlin,
lets swiiiiiiiiing
from the highest branches
and catch the falling atmosphere
like jumping through smoke rings

just past the silver lining

Of three butterfly kings and one little moth
Of shoes dropping like so many hail stones
Of hastily slipped secrets and gleaned ideas
That’s what my day consists

And what about the darker side?
What about the beds I’ve slept in?
What about ring I wear?
Already wedded to art and idea

There are places I’ve been
There was before a today
There are friends and fiends just behind me
And no leashes fit me

So sunshine you may think
But do you see only the silver lining
A thought to think when you look in my eyes
A big front has a big back

what a selfless race we've become
with our memorials and our
great concern for those who've passed on
miles etched in stone with our
greatest grandparents greatest intentions
and the result lying just a few feet below
and with a flower into dirt we assure ourselves
we're the ones who'll rest in peace

shake off your modesty you pigs.

oh you bumbling drunkard
why dont you go hide
with your other nasty friends
of former passings of time
i've got to pick up
from where you left off
just near every morning

county line

darlin, if you could
let me listen to the
whisper in your radio
for a while
and drop me at the county line
with just a lingering kiss
and the night full of stars

I Smell Pulp

Sew on a smile
And punch a new drywall hole
The fragrances of living
The taste of the things you stole

Slide buck blades across his fore arms
And put one in his knee
And when he's down, kick him some
But don't tell him it's from me

The punishment for trying
Is to wind up with the knife
The punishment for dying
Is to live another life

The crooked cracks of freedom
The fragments in your head
The fragrances of living
The stench of being dead

The Bastard

Your wrinkled Irish smiling windows
My hand against your back
Solidarity
It's just a word, don't read into it
More like, out of it
It's a pandemic now, but I'm not sorry
I'm not even annoyed
It's like gambling on your life span
Again
But why slide over and make room for a longer ending?
Let's break the ceramic collectibles in your china cabinet
Or is it a glass safe?
Vitrine?
While you cry you can sweep
I'm gonna go have a smoke
Companionship
It's just a word, don't read into it

Dot Dot Dot

At the diner tonight
Groucho Marx ate pussy
My sandwich came without cheese
And EVERYTHING is changing

At the diner tonight
Mom slipped me a ten
The bosses turned into lapdogs
And NO ONE showed up

At the diner tonight
Pretty girls smiled at me
They wished me a safe trip home
Your friends became strangers
A rockstar was crowned a god
Cartoons came to life
You moved to California and quit
The jukebox preached philosophy
Funk became a movement
And NOTHING'S where we left it

At the diner tonight
The ketchup and fries were on separate plates

a bottle of wine and
shattered bones
I'd say held up
well against the impact

ending up lying in
a pile of paint chips
trying to peice the wall
back together in the dark

this was a lousy set up
and that dollar store charm
didn't fool me at all
once I got a taste of it

so now I'll sing some songs
about the way you break my heart
and maybe stay in the park,
the statues are lovely and give good shade

I was hoping we could run away
and make love in the hidden
corners of the road, and linger
in the hidden corners of your skin

but now I'm sitting alone
in this dim trainyard
left with one last bottle
of wine and shattered bones
to match

sat in traffic and
watched the eyes
in rear-view mirrors,
sun shot and calm,
seeing through the
waking mirages

Skipping drunken
Home from yur place
And drizzly nights like these
Are ‘sposta feel weighted
And serious like sad writers
And tomorrow ‘sposta feel awkward
But I feel like skipping still
Drunken
Home from yur place

sky is opium purple
smells of cardboard ash
even the clouds are corrugated

and the road jumps out
at me, my legs fail to
keep the world below

every mile knows every footsetp's sound
every blade dulls itself over time
every line converges at the horizon

there's nothing to offer the wind,
feeling the atmosphere tickle gently my face,
as she whispers the world onto parchment

I feel like an idiot

When you turn around
Can you tell that I was looking?
And when we joke of love
Can you tell that I’m not joking?
And this
May make me vulnerable

But I think that you’re wonderful

You jerk; you’ve taken over my thoughts
And in my heart, created a thousand different soft spots
I’ve been pluckin’ petals saying “love me love me not”s
And cupids just sittin’ somewhere
Taking stupid easy pot shots

But when you turn around
Can you tell that I was looking?
And when we joke of love
Can you tell that I’m not joking?
And this may
Make me vulnerable

But I think that you’re wonderful

Well I feel a fool and a teenager
Every time I hear your laughter
How can my heart be so aflutter?
Cupid must be shooting daggers
These days

And now I’m afraid

That when you turn around
You can tell that I was looking.
And when we joke of love
You can tell that I’m not joking.
And now I feel
Vulnerable
Exposed and breakable

But I still think you’re wonderful

I want eyes wide and deep and clear
Like perfect emeralds
In crystal saucers of spring water

And to be in speech so enchanting
with tongue made of quicksilver
To pry minds
Or win hearts

I want movement so alluring
Fluid and feminine
in perfect pace and liquid gait

With a name not to know
But to worship or fear
Art not an artist
As an idol venerated
To be an empress revered

And should I fall to the dogs
To eat every bit of me
Bar the soles of my feel and my palms
So be it

And should I ask for the head
Of the latest profit
In exchange for a dance
I promise
It worth it

For I want to be
So charming as to unarm america

I want to be ethereal and perfectly attuned

I want to be a glass harmonica

forgive me this tresspass, and that carpet too,
i done tracked in the mud, and kept
leaving streaks on your polished forearm

if you're done with that elevator, i'll make
myself at home, with a neon exhale
tell me which gas is the most noble

3 tons of steel and all that force in a kiss
tasting of Luckys, pavement, and rye, under
childrens glass flag cautiously splintering

207

i win...

(on paddling past the break)

i can't really recall but
this must be something like
birth in reverse

i don't believe in the motions of the planets
anymore

all we are is the memory
that we exist
and we gotta live with these diasters
sometimes
and the halos and the aftershocks

i tell myself lies
about the mercury in my hands
you see,
mercury is fluid and self propelled
why can't we all be conquering generals and drunk kings

for an eye blink instant
i thought i was the big dream
but i was a billboard
for the fiction of the whole human race

all i see these days
are science fiction moonrises
and miracle children
and that ain't so bad

wandering ruin

wasn’t enough length in the shoelace
to tie your broken soul back together
and the holes in your socks
that still need patching up
know you’re the only one
that can break away from why you run
cause I see your heart is growing heavy
and your legs are just as weary
so it’d be nice to see you stop and rest
take off those shoes so your feet can mend
and put them up so they never forget
how to really walk again

misplaced and found

There goes that broken sidewalk
where we left so many footprints
through the bitter eyes
of the days first light
like a tumbleweeds dried up roll
over a thirsty deserts dried up road


All I ever wanted was your hand
and all I ever needed was a friend
one that holds you like they mean it
not under the waters deep end
but up high where you can breathe in
a piece of lifes' true meaning


Now I know I can stand on my own
bare bones to the cold
and unafraid to be alone
but I have no words to deny that
it’s much warmer with you by me
still though, I know

I can stand alone

where's yours

Hey now children,
I’d like the answer to a question
or at least a decent explanation
cause the road we’re on is kinda long
and even though it seems real far
it’s end creeps up just like a ghost
to take you with it home
So children,
what I wanna know is
and this is most important
have you all got a tight hand
wrapped around your towel?

still silence

No more food
No more fathers
No more fat and pain and bother
No more hot or cold
No more phony laughter
No more music
No more Hatter
Only empty wishes
In a fish bowl
Because for all my terrors
I’ve never been afraid of drowning

It was beautiful without me

It doesn’t matter
If the day is blue and yellow
When even riding
And fast music blasting
Can’t drown out
Choking sobs from your ears

I wake up crying
And red eyed and weak
And swear I’ll never do that again
But five thirty makes for a hard hour
And only moments of weakness find me alive
And I realize
That I am talent less
And love lost
Or never found
Is the only thing solid
In my life

volatile

we never talk about
lust and flames and
a wiff of ozone

like two chunks of sodium
we're a breath away
from ignition

Dirt road mind
the ocean on the cold side
and every breath leaves
a wave lapping at the shoreline,
and with a great splash we're
all in tune with the tide

Shimy up to the branches far away,
dangling in a blanket of spray
where the lights are obscured
and are straining to find yr eyes
after the flash paper world burns
bright and lights up the bay

sorry for the way...and went about....

my words may be more painful
than all your minor built up snivel
and peeves and pawns
and why don’t we get along
and sit over tea and strong coffee
cause you’re feeling used
and i unrecognizable
and i want you to know
that i do care and listen
even though
I can not always see your place within me
but i am trying
because i want too
because
at the end of all the nights
i do love you
and i apologize
for everything gone wrong tonight

Grevious Angel, you know that I think
of you every time I feel that lonesome
cactus burn
and I think of your desert fall,
the dry smoke in my eyes,
and I know someday
I'll find you at the dark end
of the street

why dontcha go on
and tell me all about
your favorite state lines
and faith in the next few miles

there’s trouble to be found
in finding “r’s” tonite
under all this keyboard clutter

yer southern ways bring a slow drawl to the haze
leftover from your winter days
and where we left you
or you left us
to carry the burden
through a summer of dust
making us wait, not grabbing the bait
thrown out to sea
when you left,
you left your responsibly

gone to bed

there’s a truth to be of what we do
and when we search
in morning’s dew
through violent nights and flightless birds
of all that’s been lost and left absurd
and maybe passed in that translation
is an unquoted castration
to each and every one of you
all that’s leftover in the mornings light
should bring truth and honesty to the plate
and one won’t mind but moreover respect
the night and where you decided to leave it

Often

often you cross through my mind
and i remember all that’s bitter now
and the zest left in my mouth
cause every time i taste those flaming lips
to remind me once of an unforgivable bliss
your face floats through my mind

blind ears and deaf eyes

they’ve left again
just the two of them
on a quick and contentious walk
down to the corner market
and the topic of their conversation surely consists
of the potentially bad decision
their only daughters contemplating
and what she’ll put at stake
with the choice she’s about to make