November 2011
1 post
i don't care who owns these words i'd rather that...
i try to stop i do i do
i want to say goodbye but
not the victim or the perp i simply am
the crime
August 2011
1 post
4 tags
now, now, now,
if i could give shape to the longing the
shape would be
shadow of line in the
crease of the awning you
stretch up your eye when your
heart shivers right
next to mine and we stutter our
harrow to breathe now like blood
showing red on our sleeves.
June 2011
3 posts
Some other things I write too often:
smoke here is so heavy that it hurts my eyes to read and all the words are
poorly spelled
and some are compounds of a couple strings
of words
impossible to read aloud without a constant stumble
over crude
dyslexic text
the product of some midnight rambling.
has no plot or topic not
the outcome a complex thought
but trite and trotting on the spot
a lax and lulling burnout.
3 tags
Today...
…I walk the bridge
unto expanded consciousness
with deliberate breath
drawn slow, deep and controlled until lungs are perfect full, then a
graceful exhale of everlasting even gales, the grandest winds
from deep within
the common soul.
2 tags
face-lift
rigid and unkempt so a jerk with the feel of it
taught is the skin in the stretch of a face-lift the
horror of smile pulled back beyond jaw
bearing teeth like a beastly young
mammal in heat and
eyes pulled so wide the lids tear sockets pried not a
tear like “I cry” but the
splitting of sides.
May 2011
3 posts
3 tags
scrap
drench myself in sorrow this is my own
burden shallow but yet
deep enough to wallow in and not too thick to
swallow whole, ingestion I
allow and now knee
deep in this digestion steady process of the breaking down this
churning is too loud
excerpt from resolution.
The thought is fat and fuddled and it lolls about my throat and mouth but does not slip lip. It grows and shrinks and twists. My tongue is too thick and my lips are too swollen and though the words are little individuals they cannot escape. They squish and slide through tongue and teeth until they are a sticky mass of sludge; my voice stalled by this mouthful of fat filth. And the thought, my...
3 tags
loose chains lazy
So focused, a bead of sweat shivers, a
side-to-side slither and
slipping the noose, now the whole string is stripping and
beads flying loose, so like chain grinding chain or
tooth clinking tooth
they chime
unto a floor so up and below that the clatter of fall is
unheard through the uproar of taught
string vibrations and deep angry rhythms now soft still abrasive the
heave of some...
April 2011
1 post
4 tags
see my love
I apologize because I know that
this is not your style, I’ve always
tried to bend to you
appeal to you
for sake of you
but over-bent I
folded through
I weakened me
became untrue.
.
my self besides, so long I drifted
unidentified
and letting simple little anger
turn to hatred couldn’t separate from
senses left off common sense I turned away
I let escape
neglected all...
March 2011
3 posts
4 tags
I'd really love to see the ocean
this will be another empty metaphor about
the ocean
waves and crashing sea salt water pouring slamming rocks
eroding, this
will be another useless narrative about
the ocean
lapping calm and soothing lull of
waves that snake across some shore but
I have never seen the ocean, that is solid truth
I can surmise what it might sound like from some
inland lakes and river currents
but my
...
sigh
pretty sure I shouldn’t be
wrapped in any of this conflict heavy
burden weighty ready naught but
steady just about to be so
serious a situation
comedy, no
tragedy, oh gross
gratuitous and
self-indulgent circling
la la and
ring around our motives
eye contact a never and just hanging in these
open doorways
does this do a single thing for you?
I don’t think that it does for...
3 tags
splatter silent drip
censore and abridge, but don’t feel bad it’s just a
cut above the lip, and though the
blood might spill a little stain to splatter silent drip
it will not fall
but seconds later
meaning whole to me will slip through
red lined teeth and soiled shirt sleeves
armed with writhing heart to seep the truth
unknowingly released by you
when you attempt to beat it
from my speech.
February 2011
3 posts
2 tags
shoulders.
but I like your shoulders slouched, you
silly girl stop playing
victim of
yourself, it’s getting old been
gotten old and it’s been old since
years been gone and
long before but
entertain me
in those ways
those same old ways just
different takes
.
— we don’t want heavy
sad or
boo-hoo sorry for all your
woe-begotten-petty-barely-just-mistakes
.
from...
3 tags
mantra
No matter what, I’m beautiful
intelligent and worthy of
respect and love. No matter what,
I’m strong enough to find
freedom within myself.
whispering tease, at the edge of a dream but unable to slip between waking and sleep.
January 2011
4 posts
2 tags
these days pot just makes my mind race so I can’t get numb with that and if I drink to cure this pain there will not be a turning back if I could just stab at my brains the pressure might then be released but I get queasy when I’m bleeding and nausea is no relief.
2 tags
Falstaff Knows.
simple little courage but I won’t be another hapless victim of
the sexual
dichotomy of women. I won’t fall into guilt no
matter how you slut-shame me,
that shame exists in public space
my guilt exists outside of it
and is more whole in that
it is not just
a shallow of performance
but subject of a genuine self-knowing and
remorse.
2 tags
insomnia toast
spreading brains thick like a jelly on toast, like a
strawberry jam with big
chunks to work out, with the
edge of a dull blade a
bland butter knife ‘til it’s evenly laid ‘cross the
whole of the slice.
yes, this metaphor is weaker than the
metre is boring, but cut me some slack, fuck, it’s
four in the morning.
3 tags
sleep never come not that I deserve it, I
who has the nerve to close my eyes against the dryness pulling
lids down over rolling aching red and swollen guilt spills into plain self-loathing not that I should cry, no, not again, the
umpteenth time, oh, the audacity! to cry!
but not that I deserve this, I.
December 2010
5 posts
3 tags
oh shut up already. hey, pretty,
you’re sure you want to write all that fucking poetry?
.
little slice at your guts spilling out onto sidewalks of
minds that don’t mind,
that are fine walking by.
taking no
.
real notice,
though their soles slip and slide
on
your spew of sick,
.
trailing a stink
of your slime. you are fine?
you are fine?
you are...
5 tags
blah blah, hush
I told you I love you, I love so please
slip down-now, side-ways and cross me out
catch me with
arms you hold
wrap around my waist la
la
la la
la
la la
arms around my waist
la la la
having known before me lovely
lay your arms before me let me
gather myself in them
let me know me through your knowing let me
gather myself in you
let me gather
let me see and
...
3 tags
It’s just that I don’t want to open my eyes in 5 or 10 or 15 years and realize that I’ve been asleep the whole time. Unconscious and numb, a brain static body with blood hardly flowing. Plush as my cushions the feathery blush of my youth. From subtle been drowsed into dream by the sooth of sweet apathy.
2 tags
ballooning in chest with such rapid expansion of blood rush to heart pressing ribs like the yeast rises tightly through twine not to suffocate I lean on wall, cleansing breath, hang my head, find amen
1 tag
you will be my little voodoo
stick my pins and needles through you
calculate your pain from far away and only know you by-the-way
November 2010
4 posts
1 tag
I feel a handful uncomfortable and weak in the knees now. Another strike and I know it is not reasonable. Sacrifice is part of life but how much do I give up? A pretty price for never knowing what the other life would be like.
1 tag
When I was a little kid, maybe 7 years old, my brother and I were bouncing a tennis ball off our garage door when he told me something like this: “Earth is really just the size of this ball and humans are smaller than ants which is why we can’t tell”. I now imagine that Steven got this idea from some elementary school model of the solar system, but at the time I was baffled. I...
little birdie break it’s wings from flap too fast against my ribcage
and perhaps this is me
I, being so afraid to utter some cliche and
cheapen my meaning, am left to
mutter mixed and inconsistent
metaphors in the hopes that at least
one of the images I conjure will lead you to
know me.
October 2010
7 posts
4 tags
in the grand theme of narcissism.
we like to live like little works of eternity
spinning our lives little threads in the tapestry
and we know that in the grand scheme of all everything
we can’t be distinguished in the thick of the weaving
but still we are there
hold the whole piece together
one thread removed and the others soon follow
without our existing eternity is simply
a pile of loose threads without structure...
1 tag
I thoroughly think it through I,
thoroughly think it through, I
thoroughly think it through, oh,
this is not a poem.
3 tags
you brush along a little genius
over her softly and
you know she
moves to your move and it’s just
better when she moves slow you know
it’s so much and gets even
better and better
more absent when present true the
other way around too
response and counter thought just
type it out just
write it down and let her
glance and
only glance she knows and
all she can...
3 tags
this man for me and though
many men have told me I am beautiful,
I’ve only ever believed the words from
his mouth, formed on his tongue so
sweet and desperate to please,
(though timid and flustered and
inarticulate.)
this man for me and though
I’ve let many men call me beautiful,
he puts fingers to my face, he licks the tears from
off my lips,
he forms the word from mouth...
3 tags
lazy and wants for minuscule shots of
vision like shots of
sacred and inspiration
come fever-panic like
disillusion made strong by patience
and day-dream passions with promise of substance but
yesterday’s hover
unselfish uncover
unfastening you
unfastening me
1 tag
somethings I could use about now:
cigarette,
mary-jane,
shot of Irish whiskey.
common sense,
will power,
shot of Irish whiskey.
2 tags
pretty pensive lady folded hands beneath the table sips black coffee stares outside wrapped in a cold breath off the window.
September 2010
17 posts
4 tags
swift and a tumble but it’s the way that you look at me
not sure in eyes and with lips too uncertainty but never is it
cautious in expression that you pass to me just
whole and real intent to communicate an honesty unknown before
and reach a point of higher understanding unadulterated by the force
of ego’s insecurity to grasp and form and
nurture of a genuine electric
the...
4 tags
The things I write too often:
I blah blah
you know I
blah little
trite and flowing
blah
little on and on and
sing little
senseless song and
blah little
on and on
and
jam-pack conjunctions one
after the other and
cut jagged metre run
jump focus
start again
I blah blah
you know I
blah ‘til my tongue is worn
blah ‘til my heart is gone from
too many times been sung
4 tags
here is a draft of a simple thought I wanted to communicate but couldn’t because of fat-tongue wouldn’t waver loosely focus pot induced a phase out and can’t manage much but can talk stupid draw into self and give up tracking on the subject so become mild and content enjoy the basic social element what could I say now anyway I’m dull for conversation.
4 tags
i am the victim of my own narcissism
reading through a pile of half started works and ideas not worth a lot, at least, not enough to finish. I feel adolescent frustration and the most fearsome of all states: uninspired. perhaps this is my fault. Who? Am I kidding? this is my fault. I’ve come to understand. I’ve looked myself in the mirror. I’ve peered into my own eyes so deep they’ve become mirrors in...
4 tags
a little sum of words to say I’m just not feeling right today a subtle shake within my brain I am not quite awake
3 tags
No, I am not proud of the pattern of bruises that I’ve painted on my shins from knocking bare legs into bedposts but I am not ashamed either, I feed my lusts when they are hungry. My seed was dropped into spilled soil, I have no repute left to spoil.
3 tags
tender aggression unfocused and stomach feels
weight in the motion un-standing, O
feet to the surface, O
rock back and forth prying
eyes barely open and letting up
all of you
2 tags
may stray but cannot be drawn from conviction. for the moment when you made me feel, with a certain physicality, from a perspective outside of my body. tingling like nerves but suspended and holding to energy, floating in the space between atoms.
4 tags
it starts with some moment five years ago now and so suddenly I can swing back. those hours and places without time or space but our young drugged companionship thrived
full and a freedom joy burst with elation. we reveled, to be overwhelmed. we clung to each other like “dear life!” and laughed. it was easy. We had less than some, but god so much love and the drugs made the love...
2 tags
I want to lay oblong against your surface. A touch awkward but we’re both used to that. Maybe you could be into it. I don’t know, I’m just saying.
4 tags
Lately interaction is difficult. I am little now my self. I struggle against unending temptation. It has become near impossible to distinguish the genuine from the desperate. Myriad of mazes these sexual ambitions and confusions. Constantly switching and hitting these triggers of arousal and always I am left with that hollow ambiguity, that screaming echo of empty. And housed within my...
3 tags
conscience is the crevice now I crawl in. deluded, on the journey I feel strong. but heavy my sub-conscious is in charge I can little sway direction of the fall. it’s not to say these feelings are ungrounded, or that a part of me is not in line, but though I don’t want burden of the action, I give in, am a patient, I am pawn.
4 tags
a space unconsciously and I halt for a moment. You holler a head-light ahead of me and I quicken my pace to catch up. We hold hands beneath the bridge and we draw butterflies on the overpass. We spend hours in the sunlight, we like our faces warm. You connect-the-dots the freckles on my shoulder — this is how we would spend eternity if we had our way.
and could we have our way? You...
4 tags
you walk towards me with your open palms and widest eyes. I know it’s not my choice to make but still a part of it is mine. I think it’s interesting and pulse-stopping-catch-you-by-surprise. We have this hearty cause this noble want this radiant surmise. And yet we’re catching on the falling off the take you by the collar. We are crashing down around the subject losing grip...
3 tags
you are across from me and always I will be able to see you there. Your actions are not a mirror of my own but you move when I move, not opposing or true to my form but you move. And I cannot be stationary. I have tried; I have tried, for you, to be stationary. But I cannot do it. Motion is inane with me. I am not fine without the changing, without it constantly. And though I am aware of it...