A stylized 90’s lesbian

Wriggling
Legs that look like
Rolled out clay
Or dripping polymer
Bending in the thinnest spot
Dancing

And you move
Like in a flip book recital
Like a record with a wobble
Like a vinyl woman

there's been a bright star hanging low in the sky of late
not long after it gets dark

I don' t have any star charts, and I
don't know really know any of their names
or even if this one was there this time
last year

lets get away from the lights of this town
and watch it race across the sky, and maybe
throw some rocks to see if it'll flinch
at fools like us

a well lit silhouette picture of you

I pictured you upon the fallen pieces forming a direct and respectful plateau, the perfect stand for a grandiose man such as yourself, tall and flailing is the mimic you cast upon firelight back-lit cavernous caverns, the enchanted ones pound, pouring out earthen rhythms on stretched skins howling, singing dancing topless, dancing, the slap of their feet at yours.

You fabricate the myths intensely making open ears want to listen as the movements of your voice booming, the madd look behind yer blazing eyes, grab the walls and souls and shakes them.

I picture you here completely content with the land and life gathering, preaching to the colonized casualties that miracles and myths, shooting stars angels and wit were born in and grew out of the earth with a low hums dream of crescendo, how they made their voices heard in the fresh night fallen light at the same time the wolf learned how to howl at the moon....everything stops to listen.

You, slumped over a fading fire, embers bathing you bare in raw light, wiping cactus wine from yer lips with yer wrist, the end of the jug still clenched about yer fist, babbling on to the last lingering ones wide-eyed about the top of the world, in-between, whispering little dribble bits, late night myths of dive bars and diners in Jerseys deep corners.

question

Do you wanna go to Santa Cruz, check out the sealions and nightlife?

the other 1/2 of the message ment for face/dailey : A Quick Whip Into Out Of Control

...the coyotes are raggin it hard tonight waking up and making the sheep scream with might and the hounds, well they don't like any bit of all it so they throw out their fists grit and howl out of tune while sparks off canine tooth burn a hole through their wool...and when the dust stands still with the hum of the night by its side, the bottom of a bottle one more than last night, just another disco dog fight down the hall till yer right...aware the girl is in town and it's rare she'll let you down, we're going big it's New Years and the kids aren't home crack open the bottle thats all ready half gone grab a glass and the keys, there's more where that one came from....1/2 in the bag (or sack) and tweeked to yer toes, loaded up hoovering above yer own shoes, that fuzzy wool warm shiver streching around in yer bones, everything shines like the glimmer reflected off the heat waveing river of road, lingering ciggarete smoke back lit by the light seeping through tiny cracks in the roof, the full moon in a cats eye...stalking fireflies holding high lit crystal-like rims of glasses filled well with wine...wathching moments in time expode like fireworks and falling stars...a white hot dolop of whipped up delight over orange chocolate cake...

todays lesson: classroom hues

Of ways i've learned the west coast
amongst personal reflection and through third-party perspective

today I used pieces of wheat grass like paintbrushes,
for the finer lines of life's details
and tiny stones around the pump house, (my current canvas)
make for great shaped impressions
...looking around, past the strong tea, cheap wine and the pot smoke sneakin about my mind...
a piece of the earth comes to realize
that she can utilize, and in turn affect, the surrounding aspects of her life

feet bare, I walk over rocks
it's the way you move without thinking that helps push through sharp feelings, or just avoid the harder ones compleatly
and the live oak leaves are no match for these feet
their prickling edges crumble under leathery weathered soles

time makes itself and you can use it to yer advantage as often as you like...
finding it is where most folks get lost

bananas are indeed wonderful...so is banana bread, homemade
(aside: i enjoy almost all loaves, on a whole.)

I'm leaning to throw my shoulders back often
most of the day really,
and in the evenings
crossing the yard with a hot cup of Mate
passing gently over the stones
avoiding the only real threat (besides an occasional hovering helicopter and the pesky root-munchin gophers)
the phantom rock hidden from the moons light
not directly on the path, but close enough
to elude yer eyes where the other side is just a trip away

energy spent possitively delightfuly works

women are a different species
i don't need to be a man to acknowledge this
in a manner of opinion
for it's sake i guess
and clovers have the most truly beautiful miniscule flowers my eyes have ever seen
plain in color maybe but sturdy, detailed professionally, delicately

the sun will shine if you ask her to,
ask nicely is all
and if she doesn't feel like showing up
the moon is always not far off
waiting for his turn to shed some light

it's nice to know that in some places
water is still free
and wine and champagne and bottom shelf bourbon are still pulled straight from the bottle accompanied by a smile and an occasional escaping drop down the corner of yer mouth rolling off yer chin falling and collected by the earth...or your shirt

I 'm learning,
it really is the little things.

Long ago and right now

Do you remember when the world was flat?

And monsters lurked in far corners?

When you could go to the end

But only for love

None of that has changed.

pieces of Smith Rock

honey
lichen
missing neal
the boy wears no shirt
and i, no shoes
it's always felt better that way
the sun burns my legs
the wind owns my hair
this precipices fluorescence reflects the texture of my soul
plain trails through the baby blue
for moments i feel like falling in tune
but i'd much rather see those California cliffs
shear and dramatic...unforgiving
two flies fight or make love
the bird is a shooting star across this alien atmosphere
and i like the lichen,
cling still

tonight tequila, you feel like an old friend
swelling in the back of my throat
sending familliar warm cozy shivers throughout

So we died without music
night blind and at the foot
of the mountains
and the way the stars they looked
with no atmosphere
like ashes burning through the night

fragments of light peaking through the passenger side curtains
speckling our faces with the days anticipation

the smell of your morning maté fix

tiny flower picking

days spent tripping on each other

learning Her curves and secrets

a late lunch a fine dark porter and a crisp cool cider

bolder nights on mountain sides

bending toward untouchable skies

grabing tails of shooting stars

to view each end of the rainbow

surviving through each other

roll-over towns and the fuzzybuzz stumble back home

sleeping through a monsoon

and in my eyes fragments of light, peaking through the passenger side curtains speckling our faces with the days anticipation

roadways

Of my life discoveries,

amongst the many i have made, in comparison, i am so amazingly small, like the tiny black ant on my leg i stand amongst mighty Sequoias head back eyes wide mouth gaping...dizzy

as are you



On the subject of maps,

i have found, that pesky plotted linear mess, highways by-ways interstates, the whole country a webbed net of confusion, every illuminated number less appealing than having absolutely no idea where you're going

like you and yer night blindness



To speak a bit about rest-stops,

Quirkville for sure and quiet possibly sketched out but most simply, free...remember that. Every folk needs to be kept on their toes anyhow

even you child



A piece of human nature,

i am of this earth, and i dance with the wind, from my cloud i have watched you in your frustration, tangled in thoughts of sacrifice, your comforts disturbed, rapid nerve endings frayed, and i wonder now, did my leisurely ways bring you patience, have my deep breaths, sighs if you will, been caught in your chest, will you ever pause to blink and recognize your flaws, for child you are fire hot bright and alive but to survive every flame needs to take the time and breathe

to be humbled

Boomerang Lines

What do you do without the threat of the Road
at your back that constant drive
whether going home or forever on your way there, perhaps finding you've arrived already, right there in your dreams, to draw boomerang lines around her waste, across this switch-back country

She is brutal and calling
I could tell her for you, that you're not far off
fiddling still, caressing the stocking seams up Jersey's firm long legs,
pleading through her tension.
I could relay your stories and glories to this worlds children, the ones mad or hungry enough to take the Time and truly listen with it, to learn a folk or two.

I think, at this age, where the world spins fast
almost it seems, shaking, like we're fleas upon a great beasts back
I lose myself, be-still my limbs to find the light to set the right foot upon the path again, and at dawn's break my souls pure in content, enough to know the restless road runs on throughout the night.

It's every moment you spend dreaming, and every road you haven't tread down
It's the hours spent wasted, lazily mistaken for boredom or the speed of the breakneck fly-by face slaps, the sparks that light the fire, and the air, the breath of wind that fuels her dancing flames with laughter.

Spaces between the blurs, paused streams of energies, from point A to B and Z, the fine fibers measuring ages, trailing away, wet feet upon black hot pavement, glacier feed rainbow waters, strange piling lava lands, the towering majesty of a redwood forest, the desert rolled out like a dusty carpet, Orion stalking my Skys and the holy North an eternal guide.

All Sisters and Brothers, broken and mended, flawed in outstanding ways, all picking up pieces, laying out roots, clinging to mountain faces, falling with grace and searching for fireflies out at sea, connecting or rejecting like magnetic waves, humble lightning, blackened fingernails, tough weathered soles and fire-lit smiles with a bite behind 'em.

I could wake this land up screaming, babbling with the river about the noise we can create, rile her all up, leave her rushing in excitement, I'll tell the Sun she can keep on shinning, there ain't a face I want left out of the light, even the ones with clouds over their eyes, or the brave dynamite souls under city skylines…

I could let America know, but all I have are whispers, cigarette smoke signals, dusty wheels screeching, the kickback particles, refractions dreaming, old world mirror images, exaggerated tales of true heart and raw soul, tip-toe memories, a great long winds worth of flashback heart attacks, all your drops rippling on...

I could give the 'ol gal a heads up, sure I could, but I rather ya'll tell her yerselves, pump sa' more Jersey through her blood...remind her she is strong willed, driven and witty, soft and deserving, and that she has a beautiful boisterous voice and you yearn to listen.

three beats of the heart

for Patti,



The mad ones flowing
through this countries veins
kick its eyes open
and from behind those stunned lids
and wide wide corneas
lets take it all in

truth in words
scratched in tile
and the dust on yr shoes
after

across the road
brownstone bodhisattvas
sit tossing photographs
into the fire
sit
holding onto stories
ending
with the pulll of the Earth

river bank, lonely and
barely lapping at the shore,
he dipped a toe in the winter water
and then carved into the sand,
kicking up dust on his way out

On a far, far, far away calendar

I want to die in mid November

When the ground is most

Prepared to take care

Of me

Even though a poem be a thousand words,
but made up of senseless words, one
word of a poem is better, which, if a man
hears, he becomes quiet

-The Dhammapada

I wanna be moved 
  the way continents are moved
dragging gravity behind
remaking the shape of the earth

I want what fuels mountains
  diving into valleys
scraping along a divide
and shearing off oceans

give me streams to drink from
  and float down, give me
the thick delta mud, deposits
of the land washed away

Yeah
  I wanna be the landscape
stretching far away
and a horizon on either end
chasing the opposite side of the world

McIntyre!
Fuck.

just a quick high from Austin
and on and on and on..............

Touse and TeePee's await...
and Rabula bleeds
on and on and on and..........

Bewildered

every time you whisper
in my ear
I only end up more
bewildered

pictures of Lebanese coast
with its gem like sea
and crumbling bricks

and an old couple
speaking in Arabic,
only pausing in English

long enough to sigh
about the warm air
they left back home

fractals are our friends

as the night begins to undress, post exchange i follow suit
i follow you
when weary you'll take a lung's breath, to self sustain i follow suit
i follow you
in glimmering light on liquor blistered lips
in blistering light and liquor sweated skin


you're just a tramp in sheep's clothing
and i've been held far too long

as the lines blur (in a sense), would you finally tell me the truth?
it's always been you
if hindsight were a wage to be spent, would mine choke at you? i would, to you
i am the noose

you're just a tramp in sheep's clothing
and i've been held far too long
far too long

pour in phase now
i'll show you the world in flames
pour in phase now
i know now i'm not the one it's for
pour in phase now
shake off that sympathy, it's not yours anyhow
pour in phase now
take off that plasti-cold, -this-is-my-world-

washed away by the rain

you're just a tramp in sheep's clothing
washed away by the rain

the structure of language

how do i work this?
getting fed up
getting sped up
over that pang in our thorax
leaving entrails unsettled

shower crops with vacancy
for our cattle orbiting complacency
cut your venetian binds
remember our human design

I was there
I can account
she was 1000 earths
worth of dirt

let's bare his chest now, she said
he's on his belly writhing like a forming moon
i can see shackles in his eyes
we will free his curse tonight

i was there
I can account
she was 1000 earths
worth of hurt

I was there
I can account
out flew 1000 flies
and i don't believe anyone survived

twenty four years ago we stood on the frayed edges of infinity and we discussed possibility
You told me that there would be fear and confusion, and i accepted the challenge
You said there would be pain and terror, and i continued to split cells and form

together we created a finite dimension filled with myths and legends, destined to join the stream that we came from
we called them people, and we called their energy 'thought' and 'emotion', for our hearts to adore
we called their vessels 'bodies', and we made them beautiful, for our eyes to adore
we bound them to a rock and sent them hurtling through space, and i waved goodbye to You as i got on for the ride

the trees, twisting to Your hand, reaching for Your infinite love
even when the sky jadishly whispers "you can never touch Him"
still the rocks melt themselves and spew forth, praying to catch a glimpse of Your exceeding radiance
i have seen that the myths and legends have abandoned their energy,
and embraced their vessels, believing themselves to be creators of their shared dimension
except those humble few, strapped with courage and curiosity
the few brave enough to abandon their vessels and return to the stream
as i will, too. see You on the other side.

We dance our days around each other, you and I
and we dance together sometimes
and at times when we dance, I feel your eyes in me
I notice these times and continue as we were
Then sometimes at night we dance again
a differente dance
after a few drinks were back to where we are almost every time
a drink or two more and you'll forget what you told me
a drink or two after that youll forget how you held me close
to you for those steps
and ill arrest my inclination to remind you in the morning

Because you know.

But youre scared to dance how you want to in the daytime
as long as we hadnt gone for lunch that day
When we dance at night your free of fear
and so am i.
I let it remain this way, because,
for now,
there will always be the next night
dancing to our music
and ill let you tell me again
i know its selfish, but i enjoy this dance at present
if its all the same, id like to ask you over for a movie tonight
but i continue
dancing

He's back

There was cheering and applause
Drinks spilled over
Laughter was on and around everyone
as he lifted his evidence bag
and exclaimed, "I'm back!"

the mood wrapped around us like a tropical storm
the street grabbed the rain to shush us
but the car kept screaming,"Lawyers, guns and money"
and somewhere in the contradiction
was a low
slow
yearning to be a part of the pieces we've denied
and in the last private moment we had
before the telephone pole
it was glory and rapture
as we captured the pieces in smiles
and cigarettes
and bottle shots with sing along gargling
even as the glass shattered
and the steel buckled and popped
we were finally so free

A Drink or Two

I had a drink or two tonight
I wobbled a little
Adjusted my neck
Stretched my back out
And we got to talking
I had a drink or two tonight
And I realised everything that was wrong with you
So I told you
And then you cried
After I laughed for awhile
I had a drink or two tonight
I threw my glass against the wall
Almost got my ass kicked
I pressed my lips against his girlfriend
And said happy new year in March
I had a drink or two tonight
I strtd ta slurrr
I started to swear
But I made no promises

Marriage

I wear this hat to hide the scabs in my scalp
From your dusty little soft shoe routine
that left me motionless

Forced to Grow

Scars where light burns your dark adapted flesh
Holes in the night
Grim times when love was a myth to you
Too dead to fight
Great hoops of the truth omitted
Left in the dust
A great machine to get things moving
And you're the rust
Grow! old man, grow into livelihood
Growing pains
Forced out of the dark with a tombstone
Into flowing rains
A hole punched in your soul and your pride is bruised
Now you're lost
Left alone in a loft on a window pane
Kiss the frost

georgia

this ones called georgia
but i'm not kiddin anybody
its just another one
bout you
baby,
when you got in my mind
you became infinite
now i can't see autumn leaves
or
chew chocolate cake
without visions
of yr eyes

the dead at midnight

i recall
those holy sunday nights round here
when those kids that would be full blown heads
would huddle in garages
and upstairs bed rooms
in the glow of nothin but a radio
smokin their new love
pot
and listenin to "the dead at midnight"
it was the only show
all week
on that random
AM radio station

and the thirty minute jam
in the middle of "love lights"
from some '72 show
maybe at the Spectrum
would cut through the lonely Manahawkin night
and they would all feel
somethin happenin

well kid
life's a winebottle
and that
distorted reflection
at the bottom
when all the romance
gets drained out
thats
something like truth

miracles leaning on lamposts

miracles sippin kentucky bourbon
or cheap red wine
in parking lots
under parking lot lights
miracles lightnin quick fingerin electric guitars
in the flash and sway
of dirty clubs
on dirty nights
miracles peering through exhaled
cigarette smoke
in the reflection
of metal clad diners

miracles goin unseen

these are words
ivory tusked words
crafted from fiery tongues
carrying hard liquor burn
lookin like metal shimmerin back moonlight
tremblin grey whiskers
these are christs shimmerin unseen on crosses
these are words

god speed rabbit
and give america our love
while yer out wonderin through her
and let her know what it feels like
to have a jersey body pressed up against hers
and show her those holy dance moves
in dive bars, and rest stops, and corn fields
and let her hear those east coast words
cuttin haze with all the unknown sharpness
of the jersey edge

and while yer out there
chasin the sun west
let him know
there's nowhere kids
back here
that could catch him
if they only had enough fiery gas
in their bellies

and tell those Rockies
to stop hiding the american dream
in their long shadow
cuz she's starving and pale and
we got alms for her

god speed rabbit
and send us a postcard
from america

mercury
was winged
and propelled forward
by the WORDS
of the very GODS themselves

...yeah...lets be like that

and earlier
when he was still Hermes
and Greek
he carried wind blown Odysseus
all the way up
from that cliff face

...yeah...lets do that
...lets lift em all up

don't subject me to your rigerous labeling structure

skinned turned golden brown with setting sun and i'm protruding from the hips in such a way to catch her eye before she leaves and i follow to an end deserving of the name begin

twist mango and shoe lace together with the slow beat of a fist on oak around suppers good evening

is there any room for trust in a world where i can't promise my buttler won't rob my antiquities while i'm having my yaht dipped in gold

nipples are best left untwisted

come for the party stay for the burial trumpets at dawn wanna mombo topside babydoll, reckon the floor just right distance between your pants and my thought process

as to and fro i aim o let none but the one whom i've paid for the rub into the hollow bum bum bum bum.....bum bum bum bum....

A Toast to Inevitable Triumph

May we someday sit in the lushest of vales
Hidden from those who would shake us
And talk with tender pride and pleasure
Of the victories that have found us

bolts with the blues

Life is full
Of static cling
And little shocks
That manage somehow
To bring us to our knees

[none]

just remember: when you see that star shining at its
brightest, its already been dead for a thousand years.

____________________________________________________________________________________
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the north side of the highway
black and white
and crystalline

bending beneath
translucent weight

But arn't we all?

I wasn’t made for math you see
I was made to be the mother of characters
I know because I animate their destinies
In my mind
While I drive
And it’s a goofy, raucous, joyful show
These lives I give them
And their movements match my mood
And the songs that stream from the radio

Well I guess I’m just a pop culture casualty
Made for dancing to the next big thing
‘Cause I don’t know shit about reality
I only know the songs We sing

And it’s this wacky way of life around me
That makes my mind a T.V. screen
The idea that life is just performance art
And every day can be Halloween
And when
I find
Myself
A slave
to tedium or routine
I feel belittled
Because don’t they know?

I could be their Queen!

But I guess I’m just a pop culture casualty
Just a girl with a hatters grin
Just some yahoo yellin’ whoopee
And laughing madly back

At that mad mad wind

You and me and the widest of skies
And the most muddled of minds
In some joyous fit
Take to the world like we were made
Just for it
And it, for us, of course

So with every step a fantastic voyage
But every step a tumble too
We could find each other
In a place
Just me and just you
And a compass spinning
As compasses will do
When confronted with things of this nature

Oh! But you’re like the whopping crane
And I’m a kangaroo
And the world can only watch and wonder
What it is we’ll do
When confronted with each other
And let’s just let them marvel…
It’s what you’ve suspected all along
You were born to be a spectacle!

Because you’ve heard the wild winds a’ calling
We’ll I have heard them too
They told me that we were meant to meet
In a place like Timbuktu
And that is where
With a bottle of wine
I will wait for you

wasn't thinking of you

now that it's over we can begin
to be honest about the bullshit
and you can cry tears of joy and i'll wince with amusement
and we both can't dance across the hardwood intestines
with fabulous yellows and pearly white nothingness
how about we turn the television upside down and pant softly while the world explodes in an orgy of senseless violins
wouldn't you rob a liquior store to bring me a happy home
should we settle for purgory or is purging a better high
lets promise to never get committed to any one thing
and we'll make plans to think about it over cooffee and bed bugs
any way baby, i just wanted to say i haven't had better
and i wasn't thinking of you

i can remember when i was young, i used to believe that when you were given a doggy bag, it was a new portion of food prepared for you. i have no idea why.

I spit purple

To think you have to be more attractive to play the part
well not every bluebird is the same shade
I spit purple
sometimes red
what else should you expect from me
the castle walls crumble sometimes
to expose a keep unkempt
and now which road is it
is it that i cant decide or choose not to
every step is a new path
when the ocean recedes make names in the sand
bcause as the water washes what else but a new
blank slate
beginning takes place
i don't want that name to stay
i have too many ideas here
the page will always turn bcause I'm always here for it
as great stories have unfolded in pasts turned future to presents
i pave the way as the ultimate asphalt layer
the untruth told
the new story unfolded
the great eternity made present by some slight of hand
a magician is always right
don't let it fool you though
your always in the midst

Quite often lying awake dreams come to me
i dismiss those i sleep through

the great abyss will always challenge
with challenge comes discovery whether positive or negative
any growth is good growth or else it would b called decay
embrace this fruish
nurture all b/c few kno th truths that mask blind eyesores
and they cant even describe the pain in lettered words
always walk a road whose numbers have been weathered
time knows many things and understanding brings new light
light which may be overbearing
let it blind
for human eyesight is weakened by dependence
which has no place in the individual heart
greatness is more often than not discovered
rather than found
while luck stakes its claim
the work will show when led by stray horses
new footing is earned
speech comes form planets unknown
i hold dearer to memories I've never known
Bcause their truths speak more honestly
I cant tell you which highway runs faster though
bcause I've never chosen that path
if you wish to see the garden before you
then you cant take an aeroplane
don't hold it back
that one instant may mean more than you could ever know
and in that instant you could lose everything
you could have ever wanted to be
even a night w/ a lonely friend
could do more than all those classes or talks w/ experience
you think are real.

butterflies under cellophane

turned aside
lost in a great stride
and spoken rhythms like
changes in the tide

this is the way the wind
keeps you pressed up pretty
against the wall like
butterflies under cellophane

I wanna tell you lies
I wanna show you truths
and talk in tones that we'll need
to create new punctuations for

...just get in the car.

~*Song Of The Open Road*~

AFOOT and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I myself am good fortune;
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Strong and content, I travel the open road.

The earth—that is sufficient;
I do not want the constellations any nearer;
I know they are very well where they are;
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens;
I carry them, men and women—I carry them with me wherever I go; I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them;
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)


You road I enter upon and look around! I believe you are not all that is here;
I believe that much unseen is also here.

Here the profound lesson of reception, neither preference or denial;
The black with his woolly head, the felon, the diseas’d, the illiterate person, are not denied;
The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar’s tramp, the drunkard’s stagger, the laughing party of mechanics,
The escaped youth, the rich person’s carriage, the fop, the eloping couple,
The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of furniture into the town, the return back from the town,
They pass—I also pass—anything passes—none can be interdicted;
None but are accepted—none but are dear to me.



You air that serves me with breath to speak!
You objects that call from diffusion my meanings, and give them shape!
You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!
You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides!
I think you are latent with unseen existences—you are so dear to me.

You flagg’d walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges!
You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined sides! you distant ships!
You rows of houses! you window-pierc’d façades! you roofs!
You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards!
You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much!
You doors and ascending steps! you arches!
You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings!
From all that has been near you, I believe you have imparted to yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me;
From the living and the dead I think you have peopled your impassive surfaces, and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable with me.



The earth expanding right hand and left hand,
The picture alive, every part in its best light,
The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted,
The cheerful voice of the public road—the gay fresh sentiment of the road.

O highway I travel! O public road! do you say to me, Do not leave me?
Do you say, Venture not? If you leave me, you are lost?
Do you say, I am already prepared—I am well-beaten and undenied—adhere to me?

O public road! I say back, I am not afraid to leave you—yet I love you;
You express me better than I can express myself;
You shall be more to me than my poem.

I think heroic deeds were all conceiv’d in the open air, and all great poems also;
I think I could stop here myself, and do miracles;
(My judgments, thoughts, I henceforth try by the open air, the road;)
I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever beholds me shall like me;
I think whoever I see must be happy.



From this hour, freedom!
From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines,
Going where I list, my own master, total and absolute,
Listening to others, and considering well what they say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.

I inhale great draughts of space;
The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.

I am larger, better than I thought;
I did not know I held so much goodness.

All seems beautiful to me;
I can repeat over to men and women, You have done such good to me, I would do the same to you.

I will recruit for myself and you as I go;
I will scatter myself among men and women as I go;
I will toss the new gladness and roughness among them;
Whoever denies me, it shall not trouble me;
Whoever accepts me, he or she shall be blessed, and shall bless me.



Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear, it would not amaze me;
Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear’d, it would not astonish me.

Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons,
It is to grow in the open air, and to eat and sleep with the earth.

Here a great personal deed has room;
A great deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men,
Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law, and mocks all authority and all argument against it.

Here is the test of wisdom;
Wisdom is not finally tested in schools;
Wisdom cannot be pass’d from one having it, to another not having it;
Wisdom is of the Soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof,
Applies to all stages and objects and qualities, and is content,
Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the excellence of things;
Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes it out of the Soul.

Now I reëxamine philosophies and religions,
They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the spacious clouds, and along the landscape and flowing currents.

Here is realization;
Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he has in him;
The past, the future, majesty, love—if they are vacant of you, you are vacant of them.

Only the kernel of every object nourishes;
Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me?
Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me?

Here is adhesiveness—it is not previously fashion’d—it is apropos;
Do you know what it is, as you pass, to be loved by strangers?
Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls?



Here is the efflux of the Soul;
The efflux of the Soul comes from within, through embower’d gates, ever provoking questions:
These yearnings, why are they? These thoughts in the darkness, why are they?
Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me, the sun-light expands my blood?
Why, when they leave me, do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?
Why are there trees I never walk under, but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?
(I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees, and always drop fruit as I pass;)
What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers?
What with some driver, as I ride on the seat by his side?
What with some fisherman, drawing his seine by the shore, as I walk by, and pause?
What gives me to be free to a woman’s or man’s good-will? What gives them to be free to mine?



The efflux of the Soul is happiness—here is happiness;
I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times;
Now it flows unto us—we are rightly charged.

Here rises the fluid and attaching character;
The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness of man and woman;
(The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every day out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet continually out of itself.)

Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the love of young and old;
From it falls distill’d the charm that mocks beauty and attainments;
Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact.



Allons! whoever you are, come travel with me! Traveling with me, you find what never tires.

The earth never tires;
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first—Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first;
Be not discouraged—keep on—there are divine things, well envelop’d;
I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.

Allons! we must not stop here!
However sweet these laid-up stores—however convenient this dwelling, we cannot remain here;
However shelter’d this port, and however calm these waters, we must not anchor here;
However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us, we are permitted to receive it but a little while.



Allons! the inducements shall be greater;
We will sail pathless and wild seas;
We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the Yankee clipper speeds by under full sail.

Allons! with power, liberty, the earth, the elements!
Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity;
Allons! from all formules!
From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic priests!

The stale cadaver blocks up the passage—the burial waits no longer.

Allons! yet take warning!
He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews, endurance;
None may come to the trial, till he or she bring courage and health.

Come not here if you have already spent the best of yourself;
Only those may come, who come in sweet and determin’d bodies;
No diseas’d person—no rum-drinker or venereal taint is permitted here.

I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes;
We convince by our presence.



Listen! I will be honest with you;
I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes;
These are the days that must happen to you:

You shall not heap up what is call’d riches,
You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve,
You but arrive at the city to which you were destin’d—you hardly settle yourself to satisfaction, before you are call’d by an irresistible call to depart,
You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those who remain behind you;
What beckonings of love you receive, you shall only answer with passionate kisses of parting,
You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach’d hands toward you.



Allons! after the GREAT COMPANIONS! and to belong to them!
They too are on the road! they are the swift and majestic men; they are the greatest women.
Over that which hinder’d them—over that which retarded—passing impediments large or small,
Committers of crimes, committers of many beautiful virtues,
Enjoyers of calms of seas, and storms of seas,
Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land,
Habitués of many distant countries, habitués of far-distant dwellings,
Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers,
Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore,
Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of children, bearers of children,
Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers down of coffins,
Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years—the curious years, each emerging from that which preceded it,
Journeyers as with companions, namely, their own diverse phases,
Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days,
Journeyers gayly with their own youth—Journeyers with their bearded and well-grain’d manhood,
Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass’d, content,
Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood,
Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe,
Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.



Allons! to that which is endless, as it was beginningless,
To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights,
To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days and nights they tend to,
Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys;
To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it,
To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it and pass it,
To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you—however long, but it stretches and waits for you;
To see no being, not God’s or any, but you also go thither,
To see no possession but you may possess it—enjoying all without labor or purchase—abstracting the feast, yet not abstracting one particle of it;
To take the best of the farmer’s farm and the rich man’s elegant villa, and the chaste blessings of the well-married couple, and the fruits of orchards and flowers of gardens,
To take to your use out of the compact cities as you pass through,
To carry buildings and streets with you afterward wherever you go,
To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you encounter them—to gather the love out of their hearts,
To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave them behind you,
To know the universe itself as a road—as many roads—as roads for traveling souls.



The Soul travels;
The body does not travel as much as the soul;
The body has just as great a work as the soul, and parts away at last for the journeys of the soul.

All parts away for the progress of souls;
All religion, all solid things, arts, governments,—all that was or is apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and corners before the procession of Souls along the grand roads of the universe.

Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads of the universe, all other progress is the needed emblem and sustenance.

Forever alive, forever forward,
Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble, dissatisfied,
Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men,
They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go;
But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great.



Allons! whoever you are! come forth!
You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though you built it, or though it has been built for you.

Allons! out of the dark confinement!
It is useless to protest—I know all, and expose it.

Behold, through you as bad as the rest,
Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people,
Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash’d and trimm’d faces,
Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.

No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession;
Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes,
Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and bland in the parlors,
In the cars of rail-roads, in steamboats, in the public assembly,
Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bed-room, everywhere,
Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones,
Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers,
Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself,
Speaking of anything else, but never of itself.



Allons! through struggles and wars!
The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.

Have the past struggles succeeded?
What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? nature?
Now understand me well—It is provided in the essence of things, that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary.

My call is the call of battle—I nourish active rebellion;
He going with me must go well arm’d;
He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies, desertions.



Allons! the road is before us!
It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well.

Allons! be not detain’d!
Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen’d!
Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d!
Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!
Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law.

Mon enfant! I give you my hand!
I give you my love, more precious than money, I give you myself, before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

~*Walt Whitman

stupid move

Sorry little brown spider
That you had to learn your lesson
In such a hard way

But if you were sixty times my size
I wouldn’t have snuck up you

squiddly bop

I want to sing at the top of my lungs

In public

Children’s songs

And I want to hop

Into the liquor store

An’ wiggle a little dance

Till I find my beer

An’ I don’t care

How many people

I piss off

By being so cheerful

Wahoo!

The Kid says meh

The Kid says meh

Cause it’s just not cool

To try so hard

Or want so bad

To bring magic into this world

might as well make use of this digital mess

It was most definatlely a pleasure on my end as well.I hope your travels home were safely executed.
Hows the life little dreamer?
Oh don't know...wake me up for breakfast...And a pipe...and some bluegrass.
Ahh'...bluegrass
indeed. A drunken fiasco
I would be honored!
Details? Plan Ppfft...
when it hits you you feel no pain
What the fuck are you babbling on about?
good morning sunshine
now i definatly want you in my bed...
how do you do that beautiful?
Hydrogen Peroxide and warm water alternate
then the shop vac
you don't even want to know the picture that just popped into my head
I can dig it

For Mac

I hope that once a year
as the radio on your way to work
tells you if there'll be spring
you think of me, fondly,
and the mad rush snow in our faces,
dawn and the sky on fire

Magic Fingers

I have mad love for you
vibrating beside me
tinkering away your keys
your eyes a clear reflection
of the energy you're suppressing
and the soul in your possession
is due for some confession
so child DANCE!
a natural honesty
for you are truly beauty
soft and kind you have proved me
beyond control smiling shyly to you
DANCE!
darling we've only so little time
enough has been wasted on worries mind
so come out and play and I'm sure you will find
all the life that's been waiting for you to arrive
I'll beg you child please
for your soul is worth saving
i will not let you fade
get up and DANCE! away with me

You aint no fraggle

So prolific are the words that describe nothing
And yet you insist there is magic in them
When all along I knew in you
An inner cosmology as small and empty
As the promises made by bureaucracy

So now I see the advertisement was only for itself
And wonder why you bother
And thank my lucky stars
I didn’t spend too much in the process
Of learning buyer beware

Stop Motion

one day one day

my head distracts the rest of me talking in sepia tones
watching ceramic tiles climing over one another and you know stop motion is an illusion and

the distance between us seems infinite

but those are your limitations, not mine

let me pass on by through the ground and beneath where sounds and landmarks are the mosaic breath we find ourselves in

our hearts seem infinite

but that's your limitation, not mine

eh, not much else but a mind wobble

wearing last nights face like a smiling broken child
my mournings mirror cant tell the difference anymore
between our days and nights lives
made-up relations creation of complication
you're a waver to awaken
and the silence sometimes is
missunderstood or miss-taken
never the less my road is nowheres end
and endless recollection moments
at casualties hands
little rivers cutting through grand mountains
leaving footprints on the land
a musical bumbardment
lasting like burning souls and dancing feet
i've loved and smashed time
just to fill it with jam
to feed this souls groovin beat
never the less my road is nowheres end
so toast to then and tomorrow now
lift up yer cup
take hold of yourself
love what you love
live what you learn
dream eat dance scream
be fucking be fucking
BE!

for all the beautiful things

hey astranged lover

I thought I told you already what I want?

[none]

where are you? crashing through the cosmos, tell me
when this ends and ill be fine tell me when it tumbles
to the atmosphere of my demise... clutch my frequency
and recall resisting seizure, the stitch in our time,
a star import bound in twine... all mine... criminals
that dont believe in sacrifice are the ones that dont
make it out alive

____________________________________________________________________________________
Have a burning question?
Go to www.Answers.yahoo.com and get answers from real people who know.

setae

wait...

What?
your thoughts are previllous ones

Tarantula
Any of the large hairy spiders of the family Therophosidae; rather sluggish spiders with a strong bite which may be venomous; hairs can cause rash when handled.

PS.

I miss Jupiters moons.

Dear Silent Vow,

are you indeed enjoying January?
For I have found the selections.....

perfection

So fucking publish already
the best damn magazine
this little literary world will ever see!


love much
~*Lilly Hare

Spin Lust and Domicile Dust

everything tingles
on nights like these
with the past at my heels
and a futuristic breeze
whirling around
in my lungs
taking away worrisome
things

all is dancing
smoke inhalations
dreams and
daisies
creative plantations
and life most amazing
no sorrow
or sad days
just friendly kind faces
now scattered
across open landscapes and
nights full of light
impatiently await me
calling me
drawing me
whispering of
movements to be

One Last Visit to the Vomitorium

I have memories of you and I rolling around my kitchen floor
Paul Simon singing about crazy love behind it all
your strong yet subtle kisses
your eyes when you want more
the finest moments from your heart
laughing so beautifully loud
turning everyone's heads to yours
your shyness
the causal modesty you display
while spreading the butter on thick
the way you start your numerous stories
the ones you repeat that I pretend to forget
you clearing your throat
my window up
your bare feet
the holes in your clothes
the years in you hair
the size of your hands
the light as you stare
over your cup of tea
watching me
everything you've never said
all that you've implied
the smell of you left in my bed
oh honey how we tried

every time you made me smile
all the times you smiled back
and all those Jersey miles
a changing coast could never crack
so to say I only want you
in the hands of misery
is by far an understatement
a huge discrepancy

I want you when the morning breaks
I wanna hear your snores
I wanna wake you up and help you
get your cranky ass out the door
I want to watch your eyes wander
over every attractive form
I want to take you in and mend
all the seams that have been torn
I want you brutal
I want your sting
I want you gentle
I want your honesty
I want each and every angry tear
I want you smiling
I want you when you fall
I want you when you sing
I want you to listen
to your own damn heart for once
I want you to look up
and truly notice yourself
you're so damn beautiful
I want you to shine
I want to make more memories
with a dearest friend of mine

I want part of this cazy love

I want to have memories of you and I....

laying down
or back i guess
so still you move
without the rest

eyes cold
frozen shut
heavy as
your breath was cut

like water running
under cold black ice
a slip and fall
on fleeting grace

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you hold me like you're missing
the time that we spent passing
like you mean it
like you've always ment it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

sometimes i am asleep
deeply
my mother comes
and speaks to me
i can faintly hear her
little whispers
so i answer
somewhat coherently
mumbling
responses of
dream pieces
and leaving her
thinking
strange things

Fwd: BBC E-mail: Why is too much water dangerous?

for those who were present for the water drinking
contest year at punxy, this article says we could be dead

* Why is too much water dangerous? **
A Californian woman has died after taking part in a water-drinking
contest, but why is too much water dangerous?
<
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/em/fr/-/nolpda/ukfs_news/hi/newsid_6263000/6263029.stm 

you may have read this before

Seventy three million six thousand and five years ago a celestial ruby was found by a space pirate in some of his booty. The pirate traded the ruby to a tyro shaman girl for a strange flower whose nectar could cure erectile dysfunction. Upon receiving and ingestion the nectar the space pirate promptly took the young shaman girl, dark and stormy looking but not unattractive, to bed with him. Their union was so intense and sky shaking it crossed the supernatural. During the climax the ruby shattered into sand and flew out into the universe in all directions.

Three thousand years ago in the city of Lost Ideals a small stuffed bunny was made by an albino prophet with a penchant for rum and tan women. Deep within the Bunny was placed a ruby so small it could be mistaken for a red grain of sand. The bunny became a sentient being of great lunacy.

Two thousand nine hundred and seventy nine years later the albino prophet lost a drinking contest to a short red headed woman with a peculiar accent that, as the contest went on, shifted and changed to sounds almost unintelligible as language. When the Albino regained consciousness the woman was asleep on his work table with the Bunny clutched to her chest. Though she appeared to be at least in her early thirties the albino thought her so innocent and pure cuddled with the rabbit that he fell deeply in love with her. He woke her with a kiss. She rose silently, walked out of the shop and into a large glass egg. She and the egg vanished.

Twenty three years later I woke up next to a stuffed bunny named Jonny. I wake next to him every morning as I have done for twenty two years. I kissed him goodbye and pinched his ear lovingly before I went to work. He smelled a little like honeysuckles.

New Piano

He had it right that time
that once
"give up"
"It won't work out"
I shoulda listened up
'cuz
now I've got
all these damn lines
staring cross eyed at me
and I start trembling
I should
Keep my voice down
when barking at
unfamiliar faces

Well where have the
Roamers
Vagabonds I once knew
where have they gone?
I travel with only my
satchel
Slung 'cross my back
book in hand
chords in ears
I wasn't mean to
roam in hoards
I couldn't
get along
compromise was never my
forte'
neither was the six string
but still I play
even got an upright
gotta get moving
back on the road
staying still was never my
forte'

I Kill

Every once in a while
I Kill
a bug
a spider
a leaf
a dream

I don't want my karma to rise
too high
I'll reach complacency
I won't be miserable
I won't want to drink
to smoke
to get angry
to hate
to love
to write

Who ever enjoyed a blissful
song
or story?

The Old Man and the Sun

The old man stood there
one foot on the stoop
two fingers on a cigarette
one hand attempting to block the beating of the sun
"just turn around" I said
but he payed no mind
grumbled something
about young kids
his ignorance held him in
an
uncomfortable place
I've seen this before
far too many times
and I've seen it in
myself
and I've let myself sit
uncomfortable
far too long
for too ignorant reasons
that old man
too set in his ways to change
a simple rotation
too far stuck in the shitter
to
clean himself
off
and i stand over him
puking my guts out
trying to get this taste
out of my mouth
funny
it doesn't taste like
whiskey

no hyperborean native has ever taken a moonlit walk on the beach
with a bottle of wine and a trillion bioluminescent friends swirling around his feet
he's never taken a chance at staying out until the sun would rise
nor seen the reflection of a perfect sunset in a Hyperborean girl's eyes
so how can you see your own perfection
if your retinas are burnt out from it?
Stay there, beyond the North Wind,
across the arctic, beyond my oceans
in your perfect blind freeze.

Joke!

this isn't a poem or whatever a "piece" or whatever art fags call things now, I made a joke up and I want to tell everyone. So here goes:

Q: Why do melons always have formal weddings?
A: Because they cantaloupe.


That is so funny. It took me a whole day to come up with that. Man I'm good.

swaying like the liquid that the clouds are becoming
is it wrong to stare so hard?
inside my throat it scratches at my esophageal walls
trying to access the b-b-b-b-b-b-cerebellum
just around the bend
it means to take me i believe
and turn me against them all

they say you can't touch the old girls in the bars now
man, we used to light em high and blow them away, didn't we?

nicophilia

cigarette smoke twisting it's legs up my neck and through my hair
gettin all sexy on me
setlling the scent of little nicotine-age girls
all over my skin

we've all got our demons...
have you met yours yet?

well get to know it,
learn how to control it

before for you begin to neglect yourself
and fall down into it's wings

choke on life

so it fell apart
pieces strewn about
broken glass reflecting off streetlamps
high nights low-lives
filtering the sediment

oh god this pain
makes me want to cum again
and the concussion
brought on by my own brain
stumbles me through the daylight

you know what rip tide feels like?
when the water's in you
squeezing your lungs tight
a tragic breathless fight
bursting wide your insides

that's you

beautiful

and i died that time
a washed up child
abandoned like
the lifeless shells
left aside by wayward ladybugs

could you have know what it's like
to have lived so many goddamn lives
to have watched so many beautiful faces pass by
to have known them all in the blink of an eye
to truly fucking FEEL their light

well so i say fuck the cancer!
i know how to smile
and laugh like i mean it
to live or to die and
to truly fucking FEEL




...everything.

Chess anyone?

they say it's coming out of me in chunks
smothering breath and lungs
bringing out all the electricity you try to sell on the street
it's not for sale
and neither am i
i'm not another face
i've got the only one for miles around
and could anyone deny these re-movie arms?
i'm coming out in chunks broken on ceramic apexes
i'm throwing up the blood everyone's been feeding
there is no celebration for those witnesses
no birthdays and Jehovah knows no transfusions
the difference between us (not the watchtower, me and YOU)
is that I do not speak to my reflection
I only look and wonder
I wonder when I'll meet that man

so they say it's the walls
the walls, the fucking walls
too fucking tall for anyone to reach past?
i think i'm not the one you've got wrong
the walls tumbled like jericho
and left standing in the middle
was a girl so small
with a chess board in front of her
and no one to challenge
so she built an entire kingdom
pawns and pawns and pawns
pawns and pawns and pawns
pawns and pawns
she appointed her bishops
and enlisted some rooks
tea parties everyday
for everyone
as long as they weren't as real as the queen
but the nightmare came the day she realized
you cannot build a king

but i am no king
nor am i even royalty
i'm just a boy with my own chessboard to fill

Neoteny is the retention of juveniles traits well into adulthood. A common example of this is the axolotl salamander who keeps its immature gills well into adult hood. Some think that humans show neotenous traits of great apes and chimpanzees, like hairlessness and a large head. More importantly we tend to stay curious and unlike chimps we can keep learning throughout our entire lives.



“Humanity has advanced, when it has advanced, not because it has been sober, responsible, and cautious, but because it has been playful, rebellious, and immature.”
--Tom Robbins--

lost another one to love

teach me how to counter weigh
your instability
i want dreams about tomorrow
and to remember them at sunrise

like the night i dove your car drunk
through those jungle vine roads
with all their curves
joy electric in our lungs

all those moments flashed by
under changing stop lights
your hands and mine
all our miles intertwined

now i could have been more sensorial
i could've let down a wall or two
but you could have tried to stop me
when i walked away from you

so add another name to the list
cause friend yer just another face
i wont be able to forget
one i truly truly miss

zombatic you say?

take in and swallow this
soul live and street lights
city buzz and fly-by bums
all the liquor and dope
smoke after smoke after smoke
finding my self again
in places i've already been
lucid in your arms
dancing in your light
adrenalin fools
in the awkward night
lets be lasting friends
and starlit cross country
lovers if be
but mostly
transient dirt and dreams

lately
only pieces of you
smothering memories

thought i saw u
explode on the horizon
but it was just an eyelash
dancing
in the
foreground

not the words so much
but the tonal quality
of paul simon's voice
makes america
a dripping instant
of romance
in the corona of a streetlamp

in the olden mists
the lizard kings
prowled the fevers and the dreams

now no more
halos and science fiction
simply cigarrette ash
smolders

the hellhound sunrise
chases me down a worn through road
time
is an eclipse and a needle

dampen those
dream sighs, baby
in this light
we're lucky
if even the whispers
survive

the electricity
runnin crazed
from yr fingers to mine
might just put off
enough of a corona
to save 'em

so if we dance hard enough
it all might work out
but
i'm a little bit afraid
that we won't have enough time to breath

don't play with demons child
though their faces are addictive and smooth
and their touch
like fire
runnin hard up yr back

saw you, legs crossed
on that black car hood
like december suicide teardrops
flirtin hard with the crab nebula

all these poems
'bout outta date
dance steps
all those girls
'bout outta sight stares
all those lines or lies
'bout souls in the lonely human twilight
just
steel fireflies
and
morning dew
evaporated
or corroded

Violence

This girl came around
She was too young and the violence started too soon,
too public
This girl came around
And she fell in love with me in one night
We caught a movie and she
caught my illness
She couldnt stand not to be in my arms after that
first night
So I didnt let her back in
This girl came around
And she told her friends
about this older guy she was seeing
And I let her own that
Because I owned that night
This girl came around
And she offered me everything
she had and I told her it wasnt enough
This girl came around
And she never looked at me again
Except when I let her see
That I caught her glance
This girl came around
And in three days I broke her
heart and mended it.

18 lines

A hundred pages of words or more and only half of them like me
The other half taunt me and tell me what I know
Each word you write is worse than the last they say
Fuck you
You dont own me
But they do

I can smoke so many cigarettes before the ideas appear in the clouds
Then I write them
Then they taunt me
Then I wave my hand
And they're gone
Like magic

I had to find a way to drink alcohol and coffee together
So I put them in the same cup
Every drink you drink makes you worse than the last
Fuck you
You dont own me
But they do

The Old Girls

The old girls still come
around
I cant make them go
And I cant keep them away
Like the one I never
wanted
she knows it
She likes it, being used only
when Im drunk enough not
to care
She calls on the days when
she thinks Ill be drinking
She calls at the time when
she thinks Ill be drunk
I always tell her to leave after
before she wants to
Because I don't like her
And another one who I used
to love
She comes by
She knows me well enough
She knows my intentions
Sometimes Ill catch her crying
a little
I tell her everytime to
shut up
because she knows what it is
She asks for it again
The old girls still come
around
I cant make them go
I cant keep them away
The new girls just dont hurt
enough.

you sleep beautiful/dangerous

I see
molten and nuclear amber glass,
this bottle trickling
like a stream flowing over a star
and I'm skipping songs
over it like stones

I see Rosalie take it
and wear it like gold
drapped across her neck
talking about the wine still
inside
the condensation and the night

a concrete cold landing, dancing
up the stairs, singing
that the world is sand
and sand becomes glass
and all is mirror like,
polished to reflect you,
the way you shine
incandecent, the

way you shine

Don't worry

Before the gods there was force. You don't remember this time, you were sleeping. We could never understand the awsome whole being of the primordial notions that exist and encompas the universe, though they were assigned the features of mankind, and named Uranus, the sky, and Gaia, the earth. And in the midst of creation Gaia bore the twelve titans. The titans of myth were concepts brought to form. And they rebelled against the sky. Cronos used a sickle fashioned from the flint of his mother earth to castrate Uranus. Later the ideas of the Titans solidified, and gave birth to the gods of finite dimention, fixed in physical space.

While the titans existed as the abstractions, the true being of Time or Ocean, there were also now gods. And they rebelled. Led by Zeus, the gods wanted dominion over the world like diamonds shaping each other. Eleven years of war ended with the gods gaining controll over their titan parents and imprisioning them in the underworld.


Anyway, the whole "Old Blogger - New Blogger" thing is kinda like that, only not as exciting. New Blogger won. But you should all still be able to sign in, even if you don't see your name on there right now. I think once you sign in it'll come up.

poem on poem

brevity is a shotgun
the moon, a slow kiss