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