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Showing posts from September, 2009

Novel, how novel.

i think I might want to write a novel.

I have part of it, a very minute part of it written already.

I don't know... I can't make up my mind as to how

it should be written. i'm a little bit all over the place.

But really it's because I'm afraid to write it down

and make it real. It's so much nicer in the swirls

of mental clouds. It's a picture I couldn't possibly describe

so what I will create will be a different reality.

In essence, I don't know how to assume my roll

as a literary deity. Narrator or character. I really don't know.


Peppermint Tea

And Cinnamon Scones

On the eve of early nights


moonlight white,

Dancing through

what fetters the leaves

fluttering like eyelashes

between branches.

The Sorrow of The Sparrow

Once there was an egg that a child found by the banks of a river. The egg, by miraculous fortune, was unharmed and hued an alarming blue, a hue the child found quite fascinating.

So the child brought the egg to his home by the side of the road and kept the egg warm. Using the books that collected dust and light, the child learned how to force the bird to birth itself.

Several days had past and the bird had hatched. It's instincts did not match the furnished bedroom it beheld, and a violent confusion beat within it's breast.

The child, delighted to have seen life form from cracked shells, held the bird with tender hands but his fingers were sticky and they pulled on the feathers of the animal, causing it considerable pain.

The bird, having no choice in the matter, accepted this wingless creature as it's mother. The bird forgot it's feathers and it's wings, but still the fury of blurry panic fought against its breast.

Without a string or a cage, the child kept the bir…


Don't let grammar constrict your literary concepts.

It's underrated pictures

text is I mean

A losing battle, perhaps

but a battle well worth fighting for

of course some of us don't have the choice

forced to see the interpretation of the Bards

of future pasts.

Tired Housewife

what is this place

disconnected and cold?

cheek to the linoleum,

smoldering crimes

comitted after reading

sleeves of deceiving

women's magazines

I have seen my dreams

wound and bound by the

unraveling yarn that

spun spirals to

wind itself around

the heart of a rich man

who's heart is in the hearth

of a lonely young

lovely secretary

the children are away

to be built for the

effigy of success that

I burned in the emergency ward

Tired I tried to see

but the lights whitewashed

me to sleep


You warrant to leave

pessimistic nightmares

upon my bucolic desires

and cast a wayward glance

towards the tops of your eyelids

I refuse to humor your failures

The venom of malice you spit

One of the many nails of your coffin

Ah but we are different you and I

Who was taught to dream while

you have hardened yourself

to become affectionate...

with paperweights

I certainly won't pay mind

to someone who digs

in the sand for the sake

of the ostrich.

PS: I read some bad poetry today. I apologize if this doesn't make sense. IT makes a lot of sense to me.

Dusk of the Season

A man sat on a park bench

he wore his age like

the toga of a sage

draped in elegance

over his worn

jacket; shoes

shuffling like

tired cockroaches

every morning

slapped with polish

he would have

fed the birds

but the birds

had left for

the evening months

Gnarled his hands

matched the

disrobed branches

that bow so low

for a brilliant


They've gone

to die but

they'll rouse

their leaves

for the next

curtain call


vested before

invisible idols,

silver bullets

melt in the back

of the glass

the wit you wear

like the heart

on your sleeve

is mangled

weird and


wear it well

then paint



and don't

mind the text

Kanye West.

Kanye West

You make it hard to like your music.

For the sake of your art, please cease and desist your tremendous display of ego vomit.

Because we, homely and dumb fans, cannot help but hate liking what you do.

So your personality gets in the way of enjoying your art, which I do enjoy so much.

Come on... settle down. Youre a man. You shit and piss. Like everyone else.

I'll take the Jackson 5 over you any day though.

Just sayin.

Camille Most Likely Did Something Stupid...

stupid is as stupid does

and I keep doing stupid

things with stupid intentions

that keep me from

vindicating a woman's rights

because I get dressed up

so I feel pretty but I

want you to tell me

that you think so too

so really it's a trap we

are defined by our contradictions

of course what else would define us

but we we aren't because I can't

possibly tell you what you are

but I can tell you that

I do the stupidest things

I can't afford another habit

So really I just want to give up

you win all of you

I won't struggle

I'll just swallow.

Please enjoy the girl with the dick that I am looking at below.

DJ Khaled has nothing to say

Fuck ya tittiez. MOAR N00DZ?

Very Sick

I am sick do you

know what it

means to say that?

It means that I am sick

so sick and full of

black tar bliss

gathered from the

mind forged manacles

that have rusted and

the oil I will keep

to write the weathered verses

that will collect the dust

of neglect like my body

collects the throes of regret.

Because I am sick you see

I am a derelict of misery

because I have let

lies come to be

written on my body

and I heave sighs

because I confuse

the softness of your hand

with the down of your heart

so I suffer and I bid

farewell to sleep

shaking heaped and

lifeless forced to think

about the things

that I can't change

Street Lamps in the Suburbs.

Oh yes I howl too,

like the old poets

I howl and I moan and I look

to the whites of the moon

that swirls and floats bloated

orange on the horizon

bleached purple by

the vitriolic street lamps

glaring and blinking off

a cream of orange oil

light comes to drip

off hunched shoulders

don't talk to strangers

though there's nothing

stranger than to know


But I digress from the point
I was quelled, compelled and
Brought to make

that desire fosters suffering

and in suffering I delight

For thoughts of you

and others too are

destined to be my plight.

Porno Club

While Kanye crashes the stage

I'm on a scratched up couch

with my quilted leather jacket

rubbing the weary pillows

just reading about sloppy cock massages

reading a magazine called Club International

just watching bitches get some dick stuffing

on their thanksgiving muffin

man I do really do love college.

Ode to William Blake

I love you William Blake

I love you I love you so

I love you William Blake

I love you I love you so

(And if I keep saying it

will it raise him from the dead?

Will it rouse his spirits like

his feather tickled mine? Will

it reverse the dust to blood

to bone to skin eyes and teeth

Will it raise him from the dead?

If I keep repeating the feeling

It might be real in time

when it falls away and

this text is left it

might be heard

by his rotting ears)

I love you William Blake

I love you I love you so.

Cheap Thrills

This is an example of "Cheap Thrills"


Cheap: because I can't afford to designate superior quality to the image through superior technology.Hence the image, through mediocrity of quality, does not constitute art. So it's cheap. So cheap it's free.

Thrills: because it's thrilling to rip duct tape off your nips.

Ode to Poesy

Sweet trickle

sweet poesy

come filter

down from tips

of fingers red

with inked swords

at their bay

what terrible

things the real can be

Now come forward

Those who forged

fantasy in limericks

rhymes and beats of

fancy that take

the prophets

and bring

beauty in

the faintest




the Feeling

Fighting battles

tooth and nail

against the Feeling

leaves me reeling

pressed up against

the wall I want

to fight it all

Coming to my knees

Because this tempest

The tempest I detest

comes violent blue

electrifying me with

Feeling and I

would love it

gone banished

far from my

veins replaced

by the dreary lotus

that i eat and i eat

to fight the Feeling

that leaves me

reeling in defeat.

Dear Oprah

Dear oprah

Please consider having me on your show

I would provide great conversation

and I could talk about vaginas

and penises but you know

the way young people do

like... introduce your housewives

to slang and 4chan

you know, so they got somethin

to giggle at

and then we could talk about what

it feels like to shit out

thousands of golden eggs

because I know I can only

hope to sympathize