Weblog

Wednesday, 09 May 2012

  • just trying
    and wet toes
    over and over on the days that seem to melt
    one giant puddle for me
    to spill into
    sliding out brilliance
    into the streams of goop

    the diamonds shine but I don't know where
    and the slime covers each of my eyes
    digging further in the midst of time
    Not a prostitute but I'll take the fine

    grain of sands
    in many of all again
    relentless washing
    each smile and every lie

Friday, 04 May 2012

  • kinky like a tuesday

    Following out the days
    like a wrench I am clean
    and my eyes are so far apart
    they will never be friends
    but they will never fight.

    When you first notice that someone
    has crooked teeth
    you try not to look too hard
    like they might be offended
    they better not be

    Like laundry it sits and waits
    like the last pair of underwear
    talk about it but never forget
    judging by the extreme weather and the wet undertow
    I'd say it matters

Monday, 30 April 2012

  • Three Unknowns Walk Into a Bar

    When we were met outside
    in the jungle of course
    I was impaired and still
    I wanted to recognize you
    and at first I didn't
    I believed
    it was all make-believe
    and I knew I would be upset about it
    but I knew it would be an adventure

    so when I wrapped up in your new arms
    in that big jacket you wear
    i hadn't yet computed it
    I know your face and its quite
    the best face once I become used to it
    over and over

    I like that you let me decide
    to slip my hand into yours again
    and I liked spilling out all new adventures
    and I liked laughing and tripping and tapping out
    rhythm with no measure-lines

    I wonder if ever by chance we take a step at the same time
    when we aren't together
    and if satellites see it
    and they think it is a funny thing

    You are strong and shy about your honesty
    I am just strong and shy
    I want to know how I change
    and what you think I do over here
    We probably have very elaborate and
    incorrect ideas about it

    "isn't she a good girlfriend?"
    I cannot respond to that
    but it is all I want to be
    weather or not you say it.
    and I want never to have to wave at you
    but I will wave at you when it happens
  • Dignity Fails

    White sky up
    and down I feel pain
    like hurt in my face
    my cheeks, my legs
    my stomach
    my throat
    I have no interest in leaving my room
    I have no interest in being seen
    or talking or moving
    just sleep

    I think I am thinking about things that aren't here
    now it is peaceful
    and I feel alright.
    I feel alright
    like watching television and sleeping
    maybe.

    why do they paint so soft
    and so clean
    and messy and serene
    why don't I do it?
    I am wondering about myself and what it is I do
    I don't do it as they
    more different
    but I think I am alright
    like maybe

Thursday, 19 April 2012

  • Leopard lips

    You caught me like a salmon swimming upstream
    didn't you.
    when was I so wild and reckless
    When was I filled of
    tears and willpower
    When I was still ready to skin my knees for it
    And I would never fall
    and I was so alright
    with never having someone to talk to
    I remember not tacos
    and not the beautiful sun
    and the slipping reality

    Now I am not a fish at all
    I am a lady, or a woman
    and this is all quite nice
    many friends and a lot of stop
    which is good, even if i wouldn't agree

Monday, 16 April 2012

  • window sill

    drop the seeds into a grapefruit farm
    eat the juicy fruits that are the yummiest by far
    so when the sun rises or sets
    I have you and your arms are tan
    because of the festivities.

    cultivated in the short remainder of things
    will we have a summertime with
    many children to shout and run about
    by a river or a cool tree
    and forget about tension or stress
    your choice.

    because you know when the wicked
    wet times remember us by
    knocking on the window and beating the floor
    I wont be there
    and I hope you aren't either
    sweaty and trembling.

    dark nights don't happen anymore
    and still with their wavering noises
    I am not afraid
    or mindful or desolate

    and the corporate sunrise
    still doesn't mean anything
    has to be done
    and the winter beating
    is just summer telling my knees
    that I really do like the warmth and the saturated guilt
    of nothing at all

Sunday, 15 April 2012

  • apostrophe

    I'm thinking about it really, quite a bit
    seconds or minutes and what to do with them
    disrespectful accounting repeatedly gets me far and well behind
    and then days themselves take me far away
    to the blades by the Regency
    smoking past the crowds that sometimes we were a part of
    and checking the movie times
    because it was a good waste of time if I needed one.
    And now I need one.
    And with the great time we are having
    and the way we are both grown up
    I should at least be content to appreciate my surroundings
    but
    still, morning
    I am reminded
    that maybe you have sent me a message
    or if its Sunday I might get to talk to you
    (not today)

Saturday, 14 April 2012

  • oh holy light

    The thought of you
    is the same warmth as
    the sun through the breezy day
    enjoying the outside between paint jobs
    on the roof for a bad smoke
    and the room which is home now finally
    is not where I want to be
    but what I enjoy.

    every color I mix is a different place I noticed
    maybe we talked about it
    and every crack is the shivers and the delight and the ice cream cone
    we can manage to share

    Its no fun
    being all out here
    alone

    because, I am scared
    nothing says: here,
    that I should ever be able to return
    I mean they say
    And I will
    But I worry about the dumb
    make believes
    maybe prince Thursday will marry me

Wednesday, 11 April 2012

  • a day in the room of the life that isn't



    I don't
    how many miles
    how long a walk
    but I cannot even make it
    to the studio
    to go and make art
    or at least keep myself occupied.

    I don't have enough energy to roll a joint
    less the energy to smoke one
    There's a banter on and about
    films and eye sores
    cooking and drinking
    and there is a lady on her bed doing lord knows what
    but so dignified

    is it new years?
    my body is confused
    its a
    chip,
    a salsa, a tea
    mostly is a remembered Saturday when we were sick
    when you were sick more
    because I was better
    and it was my fault I was careless
    but insisted
    that feeling better
    hours spent at this activity and I was unaware
    that the lapse in activity
    could bring
    peace and comfort

    But i could not do it now
    forced a bit, but
    Not one bit about this is
    happy

    not that I care much
    about the sad hours
    I know they happen
    but tomorrow
    will not be as many hours
    until
    less hours become very few
    and soon I will be as high as any amount
    of weed could put me
    traveling almost as fast
    as I could call out to you and say
    I cannot wait to see you!
    But you know what gets in the way of that?
    stuff.
    god-fucking-damnit
  • Junction with Ward

    Touching my ear in time
    wet weather always makes me drunk
    and thinking in my own world that I cannot
    will not delusion myself
    into believing I am by myself.
    No not that It isn't true

    But the long days of
    long weekend
    open up a sleeping gathered settlement

    And the girl with a finger down her throat goes home today
    covered in hugs and
    genuine pasty affection
    And I love her,

    And the boy who will not open his mind anymore goes away today
    but he is the project of return
    and when he is revealed I think again
    about the photograph of the two of them
    and their black pupils
    and their fremescent hairs

    A stray hair cloud That eats her
    A well-bound and velvety fro that shields him

    not of any importance, it appears;
    that this is where I must keep my friends