Blog Archive

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Precious Moments.

Sitting in a strawberry field I can not fathom the way the fruits smell on the apple trees,
and as the birds swarm to pollenate the frosted branches,
They forget where they are and do not hesitate to drop down dead after a life of wrong doing,
And in this place, where the roses, and daffodils wilt, we can not understand,
We believe in this area of closure because the sunlight ponders delicately,
When the whistle blows and there is no place to chase the afternoon sun,
Where a field of grain just goes on into the night where it bends in an undeniable wind,
Go forth and believe what you see in the mist of the morning, when the dew begins to fall to pieces,
On a summer dawn when the places just breathe sunlight on drying old fountains of puddles of water,
Where the simplicity of a woman's touch brings closure in the eyes of the man's woes,
And in the frosted barrenness of the calamity we call our lives,
We can create sunlight through the slits in our mind as the light pressed out of our weary eyes,
When the calm presence of loving ladies can make the gentlemen grin from ear to ear with naughty thoughts,
But with good intentions the little boys just try their best to believe in the honesty of the world,
When the cooling hands of a tom cat, and the barking breath of a slobbery canine bring together a chaotic chain,
Of just misunderstood diagnosis, when the sickness eats away the bones of the bonafide simplicity of canned meats,
The sardines will swim again in heavenly waters, and then when the fruit fields with seeds on outside,
Take back the cautious wind,
Here is the final frontier of space travel, when we finally look down on our little blue planet and sigh and nod and say that yes,
Yes we should have done more to preserve its placid nature, instead of allowing the lions to feast on the flesh of all things,
Where we just prosper with riches, from the love that we shared, and those that did not have it stole from the others,
But we can still try, and not dwell on the wrong doings, just take a moment, catch your breath, and do as they say,
And nod lightly,
And nod cooly,
And be so happy you are alive.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

What Humans Can Do

Once upon a time there was a mouse
Who lived in this broken down shattered old house,
And he ate cheese and peanut butter,
And in the the house lived a nice crazy old nutter,
And people would mock him and throw bricks through his window,
Mostly people who were angry and had no place else to go,
And they threw the bricks in blind jealousy,
For this man lived and not alone but also with a cute little mousey.
 
So for two hundred hours on the people stormed by,
And the only man and mouse just sat there eating their coconut cream pie,
So much was the solace in what they consumed,
That they didn't see the torches that spelled their doom,
The old man did his best to get buckets of water,
And when the mouse was consumed in flamed he wept for it like it were his daughter.
 
And so it went for a few more hours or so till the house was ashes,
The people attacked the rubble, and searched for their hidden stashes,
But it was all consumed, and there was one more man without a home,
And a thousand more people proud to have killed them with fire and stone,
So it seemed to go on ages gone by from a far off day,,
When people don't have it, they want to take it away.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

From the Mouth of a Drunkard

lie to me but tell me the truth,
Grasp the logic,
But bulldoze the simplicity,
Grand safe passage,
But deny re-entry,
And simply semi-deconstruct me
And find a place so close
That no one can really toast.
Good-bye
and good night

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Let's Do It

Let us dissect this situation,
Let us grasp the basic concepts,
Let's turn it into something its not,
Because what it is,
Is too simple for your taste,
Let us go ahead and have sex,
Let us go ahead and judge the other,
Let us go ahead and be trapped,
Because that is what it is,
And what it will be,
Let's decide to stay divorced,
Let's drink vodka and coke,
Let's just sit alone at diners,
Because there we belong,
And we can write lies,
On little white napkins.
 
Let the drum roll ring out,
Let the marching band swing dance,
Let the football players fail,
Because then we'll be okay,
We will decide it tomorrow,
Let us go ahead and eat out,
Let us go ahead and eat each other,
Let us go ahead and dissect the situation,
Because it is what it is,
And we will eat lobsters.
Let's just jump the gun,
Let's just slide into first,
Let's just collapse on all fours,
Because then it's easier,
To beg for more,
And take it up the ass.
 
Let the people sing out,
Let the choirs die down,
Let the protest ring true,
Because if they don't,
We won't be able to sleep tonight,
Let us go ahead and try,
Let us go ahead and lie a lot,
Let us go ahead, and ponder the truths,
Because then we'll be okay,
For we can't sleep anyways,
Let's just be the same as we were,
Let's just not think of what we could be,
Let's just sleep a lot more,
Because then we won't have to wake,
To the nightmare creatures,
Under the neighbors beds.
 
Let the snake slither into your bed,
Let the asshole lie to your face,
Let the bathroom smell of shit,
Because then no one will go in there,
And you'll be safe from ridicule.
Let us go ahead and sleep together,
Let us go ahead and ruin this,
Let us go ahead and run a marathon,
Because that will keep us sane,
And that will keep us celabit.
Let's just play scrabble,
Let's just throw it all back up,
Let's sift through the pieces,
Because it's worth the chance to fix,
But not to start it over,
Just to make it right as rain.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

to be forgotten....

to be forgotten is,
to be the last child in line for the ride,
as the theme park closes,
and the gates are locked,
pulled by the hand by your mommy and daddy,
having waited for hours just to go around once,
no one even saw you there,
as you were no higher than their knees.
 
to be forgotten is,
to be the only person at a dinner for two,
the candles were lit,
and the wine was uncorked,
and not even the waiter came by out of shame,
a single red rose,
on a single white napkin,
hiding away a pain.
 
to be forgotten is,
to be the frog,
kept in plastic bags,
and opened by high school biology teachers,
on a cold day in may,
with your legs sprawled up to the sky,
as if asking god to carry you away,
and you can't even croak,
and you can't even breathe,
you're already dead,
you already have been.
 
to be forgotten is,
to be a fatal problem,
but its hard to be,
for everyone can see,
who you are no matter what you do,
you had a brother, and a sister,
you had a few cousins too,
you had a mother and a father,
or a figure of one as well,
and somewhere sometime someone knew your name,
even if you are not who you were,
there was a time you were.

Boogers and Time

They tried to take their toys away,
The day care was full of crying children
The government said no more toys for children,
Tots were forced to play with their food,
And eat their boogers if they hoped to perservere,
The parents of these unfortunate children,
They protested and proclaimed,
That they would eat their own snot,
Only their own, only what they could spare,
Until they brought back the toys they took away,
So they organized and they sat real close,
On capitol hill with a finger up their noses,
And they tried as they may,
But most of them could not do it,
And those that inserted the finger were few,
And it was these few that were left sitting,
As the other parents returned to their children with no toys,
But these parents were different,
But they hadn't eatin it yet, the disgusting crusty treat on their index fingers,
No they just stared at it like a stranger,
Debating if the cause was worth this risk,
And when the first parents braved it,
And chewed once or twice,
And swallowed it down,
And returned for another,
The other parents then vomited,
Sanitizing their hands,
The mocked the one parent who did it,
And this booger eater was left all alone on the steps of capitol hill,
Until finally the politicians came down the steps,
In their suits and ties,
And they shared with this child like parent,
All the good girl and boy toys,
And they pushed along a choo choo train,
And made their matchbox cars go vroom,
And sooner or later,
The space time continuum expanded and exploded,
And the world was made anew.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Starting Out into This Dusk

Say good-bye slowly,
Wave your hands lightly,
Laugh joyously,
And begin to breathe,
Hold back the tears,
Fake another laugh,
Actually give a shit,
Find a moment to see it clearly,
And say good-bye quickly,
Wave your hands roughly,
Laugh labourisly,
And begin to suffocate,
Bring on the tears,
Mean this next laugh,
Actually give a damn,
Say good-bye,
Wave your hands,
Laugh,
Cry,
Laugh again,
Hug,
Kiss,
Depart.

The countdown begins,
The meteros fall,
The dinosaurs disappear,
And our history is rewritten.
 
Silently judge yourself,
In bathroom mirrors,
Forget the etiquette,
And simply reunite with your soul,
Your starting over,
Take it slow,
Momentary lapse in good judgement will occur,
Smile,
Laugh,
You are not a super hero,
You are human,
A super nice man,
A super sweet lady,
This will all be over soon,
Close the casket,
Open up your grave,
Step through the portal,
Its a brand new day,
An all new you,
Reincarnated from top dog,
To the bottom rung banana,
Quietly cry,
And then realize,
You've done this all before,
Don't forget your training wheels,
And wait for the push,
Now you'll get it,
In 5, 4, 3, 2....

Friday, February 15, 2013

Quick Thoughts of Familiar Nonsense

Take it slow,
Stay the course,
Catch a breath,
Cart before the horse,
Everything in its right place,
Planets aligned,
Low tide,
And high,
Distant memories,
Close-kept dreams,
Fascist regimes,
Imaginary A-teams,
Colliding causes,
Seagulls in plastic bags,
Starfish kisses,
Kangaroo pouches,
Electric chairs,
Lethal injections,
Minimum wage,
Maximum security,
Take it as you will,
You get what you got,
For now,
All the rest is gone,
Stay awhile,
No vacancies,
Chance commies,
Tight ass hypocrisy,
Tramp stamps,
And elbow grease,
Genies,
Meanies,
Testerone injections,
Estrogen pills,
Simplicity,
Complexity,
The other day,
Just a few hours more,
Take a chance,
Take it slow,
Momentary lapse in judgement,
Out of your mind
Back in time,
Great scott,
Charmin soft,
Take a little trip,
Love a little bit,
Full circle,
First class,
Back in coach
Late night snack,
Mid-brunch drink,
Hammered,
Smashed,
Pissed,
Regretting,
Fight clubs,
and dojos,
Lingerie,
And hobos,
Fasten seat belts,
Take a chill pill,
Keep it down,
Throw it up,
Keep it out.  Break it up.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

An Ode to Valentine's Day

On this day of February the 14th,
We give salute to an organ,
Of muscle and might,
That keeps us alive,
And keeps us just right,
Or not right at all if your heart beats black,
But nonetheless it pumps forth your blood
And keeps you going,
In rough times and smooth
You'll claim to share a heart,
That it beats as one with another
But this is quite absurd,
Like a bird eating a giraffe,
But we'll let you think what you want,
While mocking you so,
Some of us will go on,
Some of us will be solo,
But we all must go through the paces,
To make it to February the 15th,
And so on and so forth.
Let our organ continue,
Let it beat through its valves,
Let it spit out its orders,
Let it help fight the infections,
Let's just be grateful that we have hearts at all,
And try not to use them too much,
Or they'll fall into nothing,
And then we'll be gone,
But let's not worry about those types of things.
Today is a day about loving another,
How many others, I'm not even sure,
Can there be a limit to how much love we can share,
Surely the blood pumping muscle has room to spare,
So invite all your family,
And invite all your friends,
To take a piece of your heart,
But not really,
Be careful that they should know this,
They must hold it all equally or else it'll tear,
And then you'll be dead, and wasted with tears,
That'll stream down their faces,
But they'll still have the pieces,
But you won't have anything,
Except a hole in your chest,
Though you'll still have you lungs and you brain,
And while you can't digest, I will digress,
And say that it is not befitting us,
To throw it around to much,
This organ and these words,
We must know who deserves them,
And let them view it awhile,
But don't give it away,
Because without your heart what are you?
But a corpse, or a corpsett.
So young lovers, and old,
Go about your day,
Be you straight, or straight up homosexually gay,
You have all you need with your partner or partners by your side,
Who am I to judge,
Just be careful what you do
And always wrap up your tools,
And just take it easy,
And just eat your meals slowly,
For your heart may be clogged,
With too much cholesterol.
We will be on with it shortly,
But finally to all you single people,
Who long for your companions
Do not fear,
All you must do is find a mirror my dears,
And smile and chat, and find good company within,
Or holler and be bitter too,
At least you won't be alone on this day of the 14th of the 2nd month of the year,
And through all these pains,
And all of these gains,
We will bid adieu to old lovers too.
And miss the missed opportunities one and all,
And go ahead, go on being jealous and
Utterly despicably depressed,
But remember that one day will come around
Where you will have a love on your arm,
On a Valentines day,
That'll seem much brighter than this one today.
 


The Worm Revolution

Some day the worm will rise,
Just you wait,
He'll slither and crawl,
And come right out of muddy walls,
Inching his way toward deathly destruction.
His little pink body,
Will push and will jerk,
Along the cement floors,
Right into our living rooms.
There will be a dozen of them in every house,
With rage in the eyes they do not have,
Be wary of their slime,
It'll feel like grime upon your hands,
This is their poison,
And while it is not lethal,
You should just behave as though it is,
For the sake of their determination.
Of course they won't take over the world,
But you have to give them congratulations for trying,
As the sun comes out they'll do their best be frighten,
But in truth they'll be the ones who are terrified.
They know what is coming,
As the heat hits their bodies,
And its only a matter of time before man and wife,
Both a part of the same worm,
Will fry up and be disposed of,
Or eatin by a four year old,
Slithered passed his lips,
No biting just engulfed wholly
Falling down into his stomach,
Not burned by sun,
but by acid,
But let's applaud these fallin devils,
Because at least their malicious content,
Was most certainly ill met.


No, It'll Come to Me

They told me yesterday to be wary of tomorrow,
Well tomorrow is here, and the day is nearly over,
And I did not heed their warnings.
There was nothing to fear in the course of this day,
Nothing to cause me to be frightened at all,
I just stuck to my gumption and scaled the heights,
To find out what I was made of.
Took a few hours to get the car in its paces,
Took even longer to correct my directions,
Took a little less to take a break to rejuvenate,
But eventually I was there, only eight or so hours late,
Everyone was gone, but I was still waiting,
Thinking that surely they'd be back to find me.
It wasn't such a dangerous routine as you see,
But no one told me that it would be boring,
I would have taken the danger, I would have sped all the way,
For a chance to beware of this mundane quality,
But here it comes again, and I can only pray
For a ten car pile up on the largest interstate highway,
Don't think I have a death wish,
This is just not he case,
But I'd like to be involved in something,
Something of substance, something that connect me with others,
For now though i'll go, at my turtle like pace,
And i'll arrive ninety-nine years too late,
And eat alone, at a now closed eatery,
Hoping that tomorrow will show me the road.

Nonsense in the Entirety

The milk man tried to find a way to the front door through the mountainous wall of snow
But he gave up to soon, because the frost bite had already claimed six of his ten toes,
And when he took a step forward like fragile glass the crystalize parts shattered.

During their meet-cute, a couple young people tried in vain to restrain their dogs,
And ran smack dab into the middle of a pond filled with geese that squawked about,
But it wasn't until the return to the shore that the dogs gobbled up every last one,
And left the young man and woman holding hands, as the authorities showed up to take testimony.

A pickled fruit vendor tried his darndest to look natural while his fruits fermented,
And the jars were always crammed full until the contents were mushed and secure,
But the life of the fruit faded quickly and the pickled fruit selling man tried his life to the core,
Attempting to impossibly produce the end all be all of pickled fruit products,
Only learning to late, and to his great strain that most people do not care for pickled fruits at all.

Way beyond the woods there sat a man with three horns on his heart, and they burst forth from his chest,
And he always carried a big stick, but he seldom ever struck out as his enemies,
But would often bludgeon his friends, and no one ever truly understood why this was so,
So in a fit of determination a crippled boy wheeled his chair to the foot of the horned hearted man,
And asked him why he always hurt the people he loved, and the man looked down and he said as he cried,
It is they who have hurt me.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Hope in the Face of Infection

The worst things in life cost the worst part of us,
We fight and we fondle in the dark,
Despising what we think we feel under what we cannot see,
Tomorrow will disguise itself in a many splendored fiction,
But they will still hate,
Hate everything so absolute.

Tomorrow the world will find it is horror,
The zombies will feast on the everlasting flesh of angels,
And they will continue to be immortalized in this,
This so simplistic and obtuse day and age,
And they will gather,
Gather much moss.

So go and try and find what you may
And begin to teach the teachers what they say,
Make them hold true to the words they've told them,
And they will begin to circle in like vultures.
Too much time,
Time too little to plan ahead.

Hello, good friends, those that hated so easily,
Just tried to forget this place when the fates would allow,
Filling their hearts to the brim with delight,
In a schadenfreude type of ridicule,
Happy in the happiness, at the misfortune of a man's fortune
Castrating the strands of belief,
Belief in something higher than this hate.

So tomorrow, again, is the day to end all days,
To find the light at the end of the tunnel,
And speed past the train in the left turn lane,
And to take it easy, when it take the longest,
To bridge the gap between this life,
Life memoriam in a life memorial.

Steaming Stanky Stunk

This bath house is full of steam
It makes you sweat forth from every pore,
All the candy and fun times
They'll keep you under hot steel lamps
And interrogate you till the sweat pours forth from every inch,
And all the lies, and cream-cicle pies come out and reduce
You to smoldering sunlight
That beats down upon the beach
And the swimmers well they are all okay
But the tanners well they'll just burn to a crisp
As if on a spigot and disasterous
Little navy birds will flock in and devour
That which they think is charcoal
And then they'll catch the solar flares,
And their stuffed little bellies will POP!

One Million Ways to Get Here

The tempest wind through about your rowboat,
And you could not withstand it,
So it has come to pass that your soul must pass,
Into the gates, and through onto Elysium,
And you will find in there a way,
To stay sane and absolutely nothing,
A long and short absolute zero,
Faced with the aftermath of a thousand wars,
Your god will look at you and shake his head,
He'll ask what you thought you'd find,
Of course you'll tell him you hoped for paradise,
But he'll say, "No no no, you should have rolled the dice,
You should have done more gambling,
And let the luck rub off on them,
To keep them sane, to keep them lively,
Living in a world of self-abuse is not the world you needed,
So much not the world they wanted."
None of it in truth will get to you,
And you'll just keep on keeping on,
Through the long and short of it,
Until you see the truth on a million happy,
Aborted faces.

Children will grow up under the most strenuous circumstances,
Never caring for the world of monsterous adults,
They'll lose their imaginary friends to new lovers,
And then their video games will fire on back,
And the kids will afraid to go to far outside,
They will grow into recluses in adult hood,
Men-children who cannot focus on the tasks at hand,
And create fiction when they can't face the very absurdity of their lives,
Chasing back shots with shots of cocaine,
And enticing the ecstacy to bring them ecstacy,
When the nectar is no longer sweet enough for their taste buds,
And when they overdose, or when they run a red light,
They will stand before their god, and he'll say,
"My children my children, why have you forsaken yourselves,
I gave you life, and yet you didn't use it,
I gave you breath and yet you chose to abuse it,
In this long and drawn out affair you sat on your ass,
And watched other people make it somewhere,
Even to work from nine to five,
But you wilted away under notions of lost innocence,
But did you not know that others have suffered too,
You selfish little pricks."
And they men-children will not understand this absoluteness,
They will not fathom that they took it for granted,
They sought a pat on the back, a hug and a kiss,
And they wanted to be mothered now,
But they needed to mother themselves.

The cat lady in isle three with a cart full of tuna fish,
Passed the age of spinsterhood, and coming closer to death,
Will live with her overbearing insensitive husband,
And contradict what the dead already know,
And while she is indeed married, she mine as well not be,
She has three kids but is raising four altogether,
That drunkard sitting in his favorite recliner,
Guzzling the diet cola and eating the pork rines,
And enticing her to sleep with him,
When his pig gut is stuck out and squeeling,
She wants to vomit in her mouth, and she hugs close to her felines,
They'll purr and they'll comfort her,
And then she'll choke on their hairballs,
And Lucifer or whatever demon she seeks the most will greet her,
And say, "Well this sucks,
Don't it?"

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Here, There, and Everywhere...

There was a blank man
With an empty line for his signature
Right across his forehead,
So they wrote across his forehead,
Any names they wanted,
Ass, or Crass, and Trash, or anything they so desired.
He was a nice man,
When he was present,
But as he was never present,
He was the ass of crass disposable trash,
And they were not wrong.
 
Do not allow these words to confuse you,
But do not be alarmed that they aren't for you,
You want to be the center of this universe,
But you are hardly the center of your living room,
And so they usher us quietly to our seats,
While the actors go through their beats,
And this show is full of far to many dramatic pauses.
Don't worry he is still there,
The man who has begun again,
He's smiling through painfully gritted teeth,
And Jesus will not save him,
Because Jesus does not know him,
But he does know his best friend, who goes by the name of Jim.
 
Jim is a man of simple taste,
He cares not for the cares and worries of his neighbor,
But he will feign it if it grants him audience
With a bodacious beauty beheld behind bold bottled eyes,
Drunk disorderly and dissolute he does dote darkly on devout Christians,
But not the real reveled revelers but the more radically ridiculous richoets,
Who bounce beautiful and bombard beasts with bridged bullets,
They skip over text because they do not know its meaning,
But Jim doesn't care,
He only has to pretend he does.
 
And so the story will go on,
And so the reader will be confused,
For no one told me that anything had to get through,
That thick, and wonderfully horrible skull of yours.
 
To the subject at hand,
To this blanketed man,
I do say that he is sad,
But how could I know what he had,
For breakfast this morning.
 
It's true that he knows,
And its true that he goes,
Beyond the gates,
On important dates,
But not through a wonderland,
For there are real tasks at hand,
And though he prays,
He can go without for days,
For he is not a religious man,
But back to the task at hand.
 
Yes, the tattered soul of a writer here,
Born forth from grief and misery,
But not so much the worse for wear,
He still has happiness hidden up his ass,
And he wears it much more proudly,
If indeed he is put to task,
He'll speak far to loudly,
Hear him now:
 
Destiny
Discerns a,
Dark and,
Dingy story,
Derived from,
Darker days yet still,
Doom permeates these words, and
Devils sneak in,
Devouring the
Dreamer if the dreamer,
Does choose to acknowledge,
Dastardy circumstance that,
Damns his soul,
Day after,
Day and night after,
Drousy night.
 
Every man,
Except those who sleep,
Especially those who dream,
Expect an
Ellipsis here,
 
But,
I will withhold it.




The Class Action Lawsuit

They say the early bird gets the worm
But i'm more interested in eagles and owls,
Who go after larger prey,
And work at it all the live long day.
It's not to insult the bird that this is said,
It's to glorify the natural predator,
That son of  a bitch with a bit too much between his fingers,
A billion reasons for you to listen to them,
They'll parade it all in front of you,
But they'll never toss it forth
As a clown who throws about candy to you kids at the parade.
 
This candy is bitter, but it is not sour,
There is a sweet nectar beneath the brief original flavor,
At the core the oak shines forth,
And you can hold the wine glass to your sense,
And you will not tell the difference,
But they can, with a whole other sense,
The sight shows more pinch for their penny,
And the more cheddar they put forth the better they feel,
And the worse we seem when we can stand to drink the small stuff.
 
A long time ago when dinosaurs ruled the earth,
It was dog eat dog, before dog was ever about
And some how the herbivore survived,
The life blood of the natural order devoured with instinctual carnivorous intent,
Eating themselves the green leaf of the evergreen,
So that the evergreen will not forevermore be greening,
Only translated here with the faces of a few dead presidents.
 
Let's call the spade a spade,
And leave the jack of clubs beside the king of hearts,
And let the queen lay in bed by whomever she pleases,
She likes the rich man for his cash flow,
But loves the poor man for his good intentions,
And despises the dreamer for he's always asleep,
But secretly wishes to be sleeping beside him.
The world comes forth in a deck of cards, and we are not holding the hand,
We are the hand held by higher powers of
Fate, and God, and just plain damn dumb luck.
 
And when they draw the circle in the beach,
Between two large S's,
The planes and flying machines will try and locate them
But they always needed smoke signals,
But with technology we will do our best to find the truth,
We'll take your SOS and incorporate it's tracking with sonar,
And GPS, and systematically check the internet and see if the paparazzi has snagged the shot,
If by chance they have, well now everyone knows where you are,
So call off the search party,
Everyone see's you,
But do not be relieved,
They are all just watching you stranded on the deserted island,
Through the world wide web of spider like distaste,
And judging that you found yourself there in the first place.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Speedy Gonzalez

The impossible man passive aggressive and entirely indestructible,
That is in the right circumstances that is if he were to circumnavigate the world,
With the help of his blue pawed pooched, and a flying machine,
Solve the riddles like a particular talking dog, and ride around in a mystified mystery machine,
And claim the path to higher enlightenment, and hire entitlement to only forego the sale of your soul,
You passed on the best offer and counter concluded that you should keep that which you sought to give away,
You can defend your stance, but never do until you've done the chicken dance in front of a million spectators, who are all there to see you fail,
Go on scribble in crayon on the back of milk cartons with pictures of lost children from 1977,
And do your best not to cry when you recognize in those eyes, the eyes that look back in the mirror or in the reflection of your juice box,
It's okay to fathom a world where hitler wasn't himself, and someone else was him, but that person though not given the name of the rose, would still be the thorn in a lot of sides,
Chase the dream, but do not quickly dissipate with the crowd, you need to objectify while riding your cloud, while staying in your shroud,
And we come full circle to the man easily aggravated by aggressive behavior, and he is as fragile as cracked glass,
Knock twice to break him, and then sweep him under the rug, that covers the hole that you have dug, Go on lick your lips when you bury him, the tasteof dirt on your tongue, and if you are well hung then god bless you,
But don't forget that in this dream you are not the king bee, just a worker in a hill of ants, and you cannot fly, you are not of such a variety,
The enemy will indeed hold the upper hand, armed with wings, and being the kings, they'll trump your jacks, and hold all the aces,
I see it now, as you endeavor to be well endowed with money and riches, with diamonds and spiked heels, they make you stand tall, while you fall short in this hall,
I see some place else for us to go to hide till the snow melts and then when our bear like hibernation is finished we'll devour it all like a plague,
And the man who could not be hurt, and who did much harm, and who broke, while not hurting a fly,
This place is for fly fishing after all, and while the ice fisherman collapse in a vault of collective calamity, which is also coincidently the title of a brand new song by your least favorite pop group,
We will go on home, and free ourselves of any indiscretion,
Don't be alarmed when the smoke breaks through and we choke both ourselves and our enemies to death with our best friends hands,
You see it don't you?  Like a waking dream that never tires, and you will not know that lovely ladies won't belong without your love,
See the sea disguise itself in lakes and channels, at the bottom of the tiny erect shaped of a peninsula at the tip of the world,
Flick your ear lobes and put them to the ground, and know that God loves you, maybe, but probably not so,
I know I know, this has gone on to long, but one more thing before the bell sounds, and the starter pistol fires, and the horn honks forth,
Pray if you must, curse if you can, lie if you must, white ones if you can, and just go with the flow down river, with the salmon,
And jump and be punctured by a grizzly bears claws, and feast on it raw as it wiggles and squirms, and go on, just go on, and laugh,
This is all in ridiculousness, so i'll end it here, no really I will in just one more line, like I've said it before,
Look on the world in the view finder, pull the switch and see it in gloriously over-used an over-boorish three dimensions,
Sickly suckers on cellular levels, cling there in your eye lids, and you want there to be more, when there is only just this.

Comfort Food

I'm eating this whole thing,
Whether or not you want a slice,
I'm eating it all.
Digesting it won't be easy,
My stomach will be bulging forth,
I'll  be ready,
Ready to explode.
Don't worry,
You don't have to stand back,
It is a metaphysical contemplation,
I am dreaming up this chewing hazard.
Take a breath,
It'll all be over soon,
I'll be gone,
And everything will be a mess.
Oh wait,
The meal has passed,
But my body is weak,
My blood funnels this dangerous poison,
The junk eating at my muscle,
And my mind,
My thoughts are of the twinky defense variety,
I am exploring,
Into the depth of discretion,
When I exit the lavatory,
You will hear the flush,
But I will not flush it again,
It's down,
Dream what you will,
My body is weak,
Weak, weak, weak,
I must lay down,
And dream a new life,
Without this horror in my gut,
Take a moment,
And rest,
My body won't let me move,
Good night moon,
Good night stars,
Oh look cookies and cream.

Everything I Tried to Do

Do not blink if you are alive,
Blink twice if you are,
Let me rephrase that,
Are you going to live?
Even though your head is severed from your shoulders?
Is it going to be okay,
Let me get my sewing kit,
Let me rescue your eyes,
Don't worry yourself,
You must keep your head about you in times like this.
It's only a matter of time before the authorities arrive,
I must be away from this scene,
Or else i'll be blamed for your dying breath's,
Its not my fault it really isn't,
But as I tried to repair you,
I was covered in your life.
 
Before I depart, give me some sign,
Please that I may help you if I can,
And yet you stay silent,
As if you cannot speak,
But you were speaking moments ago,
When you requested that killer let you go,
I heard it from the other room,
In my apartment on floor 202,
I just can't fathom why you won't come back to us,
You spoke to him,
And look what he's done to you,
I want to help and you ignore me thus,
If you don't want to talk to me,
Fine, I won't so much as fuss.
I can hear the sirens now,
I tried my best,
You look okay,
Your still playing dead,
Being so coy and awkward,
But what else can I do with someone as stubborn as you.
Even before this moment you were like this,
We were neighbors and I saw you everyday,
You kept to your own counsel,
And you never asked any questions,
You only looked inward in self pity,
You've been dead for awhile,
But you still found time to snore in your sleep,
To eat your potato chips in crunching anoyance on your sofa,
While the latest soap opera with lions and elephants played on your tv screen,
So don't play dumb with me,
And get up off your ass,
Or i'll just leave you here,
They will not put this inident on me.

My Mistake

Let them say what they may,
Let them devastate you with words,
For you are made of stone,
And unless they spout water,
They will not wear you away.
 
Let the slings and arrows hail upon you,
And care not to shield yourself with your hands,
Let the wounding continue,
For you are made of stone,
But I guess that will not help you here.
 
Let my words pass overhead,
And while you are indeed already dead,
Forgive me for such falsehoods,
I am only the writer,
I am not the warrior,
And this pen is not mightier than their swords.

Monday, February 4, 2013

Too Harsh for Feature Length

They produced and wrote a film about a boy and his dog,
In the end the dog would die, thanks to a thankless hit and run,
The audience was intended to be enraged, because after that before the credits rolled,
They would club baby seals for no particular reason,
Silence would permeate about the viewership, and on home video people would always  stop it before the travesty,
In the court of popular opinion, the grand jury would convene, and they would order the book be thrown at all involved,
The actors would be sued, and the writer would be hanged,
And the director would be shot, and the producer would be shamed,
Good Christian mother's would not remember their good Christian martyr,
And nothing would make any sense, as Hollywood serialized the misery of the living human beings,
It's a shame the movie is banned in over thirty countries,
But that's not bad in the grand scheme of things, and I hear the terrorist watch in hell,
The way of the world will be okay,
But the footage should never have been shown,
And the mass grave the tossed the film reels in will be doused in gasoline,
And when the match is thrown the explosion will kill all the nearby trees,
And the squirrels will fall down dead in the spots that they stand.
Seek some refuge if you can,
Tomorrow this all begins again.