Tuesday, December 30, 2008

With the Ball

I’ve known you three months
But I still don’t know you
I know no last name, just a first
A face to the name
And an awkward demeanor
Resuscitation in verse
(How well you make me feel so
Small)

I often wonder if you’ll come here
Maybe I can see you one more time
Where the formless objects roll into motion
At the Belt and the Nile
Where they meet
In late fall

But denial
Sweet denial
You tricked me before
Shame on me if you do it
Again-gain-gain-gain…

But this time…
For real
…Would you be as cool
As you were?
Or would you let it all
go
When I think of you
I realize it was honest, true
But what the hell does the heart
Really know

So here I lie
Where the hours fly by
Like flashes in the blind-spot
Of my window
Where the early bird
May catch the worm
At the price of his/her sanity

Life doesn’t roll with the ball
So don’t take it personal
Don't let it
get to ya

Monday, December 29, 2008

Reality

You're the rudest awakening I've ever received
I travel far to get nowhere and that's where we meet
Your feet sink in the clay as if it's still wet
Pulling me with you, how did I get here

Maybe I'm just better off alone than with anyone
Does the sky eat itself, or does it copulate
The sun masturbates to starstreams a million miles away
Just as much a pervert as everyone here on this planet

I apparently see all "wrong" so I'm left grounded
All my greatest intentions turn out completely unfounded
And all the ingrates that can't fake at least respect
Get drunk on mama's wild turkey and then become teacher's pet

I don't want to be perfect, had enough of that
I don't want to be famous, they're pretty idiots
I don't want to be loved, maybe just ignored
I don't even want you anymore... dear

You took those memories
You left those memories
You trashed those memories
What more is left to desire
Besides reality
anymore

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Fuck Bucket

Hand cut off with a jumbo heart
We do what we can to barely get by
Love like fasting to get to the core
Sleeping in the room where the naked ladies are
Thin lines of smoke all muddled at the ceiling
Five crossed lovers not sure what they’re dealing with
The end of foreboding
The bleak black skies

I don’t need to know her
She just sings while they all scream
Plugging her ears with soot and clay
Sewing her eyes shut with needle and wire

Come into the light dear
Where we all can see you
Lick our lips and press our hips
Up to the glass
Thrust in vulgar gestures
Beat until we’re breathless
Coming, coming
We all fall down

The pits are full of lions’ shit
The pits are full of carcasses
The pits are full of lions’ shit
The pits are waiting for us

Friday, December 12, 2008

Movie Dialogue #18

"When's that book coming out?"
"Tomorrow."
"Really?"
"No."
"Oh."
"Whatever."
"How's the fiancé?"
"Funny haha."
"Oh I forgot."
"It's okay."
"The mortgage?"
"Swimming."
"Swimming?"
"Swimmingly; sorry."
"Do you want to be left alone?"
"No, I guess not."
"If you say so..."
"Nice weather we're having."
"...Uh. It's really cold."
"You don't like the cold?"
"I like the temperate."
"I like the cold."
"Why?"
"So many chances to get warm."
"Huh?"
"Cocoa. Fireplaces."
"You still drink that stuff?"
"Not really. It's a nostalgia thing."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
"Well, I gotta go."
"Go where?"
"Elsewhere."
"Yeah, right."
"Look, it's not you, I just need some space..."
"Funny haha."
"I thought so..."
"It would be if I didn't only just hear those very words a week or so ago."
"Wow, she actually said that? Minus ten points for un-originality."
"Look, it's not you, I just need some space. Therefore I'm calling off the marriage, our relationship, or anything I have to do with you."
"Well, if she said that..."
"Nah. Just the first part."
"Well, I'm sorry man, really."
"No you're not."
"Yeah, maybe not a lot, but that does suck."
"Thanks, I guess."
"Well, I'm gonna go then."
"Bye."
"...Oh! And thanks."
"For what?"
"Showing me how I might miss winter if it ever skipped a year."
"De nada."
"Feliz Navidad mi amigo."

Bonaparte

Leave me on this island
Leave me on Elba to die
I don't mind
Actually I do
I'm just the shyest man alive
And maybe to her
I'm not even so much as a boy
"Only boys play games"

I was never in the game to begin with

I say one thing
Then contradict myself
Because everything I say
Carries the weight of feathers
Floating through black holes

"Love can be so sweet"
She also told me this
"But truth is even sweeter"
Even if it lacks a tasteful edge
Instead, a vulgar shape
A pencil-etched penis
in a textbook

The drumbeat ticks along
But there's no uniting force
Behind it all
It's aimless and broken
I never came
Never wanted to be there
In the first place
I tried to call it all off
But hung up and just didn't show up

If you can't count on me
Who can you count on?
…Sorry?
No, I'm really not
I don't want to spread a skin
Over something that cannot be beaten

The computer clicks on
Whirrs and starts
You understand every circuit
Every flash of light

As if understanding is some sort of
Absolution
But I pray the ambiguities make you crazy
They're the only thing left to keep me sane

Leave me alone on this island
Leave me alone to die
It's fine
For the shyest man alive

Maybe one day you too will value silence
And solitude

It's really quite beautiful

Monday, December 1, 2008

Forage for food
You coward
You wouldn’t take the scraps
Big Man kicked at you
So bury your head in your hands
And let it all out
Somewhere where
They won’t see you

Look at yourself in the puddle
Hale like slick softballs in
Battery Park
Take me somewhere where
The skies won’t see us

Dance ‘round my bed
Like some stinkin’ spic
‘Round his sombrero
Meet my eyes
Suck my insides out
Through the mouth
Or neck or anywhere
Soft or wet

I want to inject you like sex
Feel you deep inside me
Retching to get out again
Ripping out my pores
Like fleas, get me on my knees
Please forgive me mommy

Ring ‘round the bed dear
All the children in the air
Screaming, playing
Watching mom and daddy
Going at it
Make me want to be a fagget
When I grow up

I want to feel you like sex
Become you, numb you
To my keeled condition
Believe in the easy
Getting off, I don’t want to take you there
But I want you to stay forever

Come inside my closet
Where the children stalk here
Muzzles for their filed teeth
And methamphetamine dreams
You can hear them screaming
“Don’t stick your cock in my holes!
I just want to go outside!
I just want to play!”

I want a hold of you so I can mold you
In my own image
Deep, incestual
Oblivious
To thoughts but keen to feeling
And when you take my hips
Drag my hips
Across the floorboards
Across the carpet
Through the doorway
Across the gravel
And into your cunt, dear
In the middle of the court, dear
Gaping, wide, wet and sticky
I’m not picky

Then stick it
in my
mouth
And fill my
eyes
Fill my
lungs with
Sssssssss…

Saturday, November 29, 2008

My day will come
It may be tomorrow
It may be 5 years
But my day will come
Not because I believe it
But because it is inevitable
There is no other way to go

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Movie Dialogue #16

Man: "I wish I didn't pay any attention to all those old and decrepit people that always told me 'life is hard.' Maybe I'm missing something, but I'm barely trying and getting by and loving every minute of it. I feel like I've got some kinda secret that only I'm privy to... Weeellll, okay. Life's not easy. I'll give ya that. But it's not hard... unless you let it... I mean, I'm not a millionaire or all that lucky, but I'm fine, ya know?"
Death: [Ominous glare] "...Don't jinx it."

Too Many People oh nos

Too many white people
Too many black people
Too many Puerto Ricans
Too many quiet Mexicans
Who hold up the line
Because they no speaky da d’anglais
Too many orange men
Too many green men
Too many locals
Too many aliens

Too many musicians
Making music with computers
And never picking up a guitar
Or anything having to do with-----------
The hands
Too many artists
Dada da Dali, Hieronymus
Mon-mon-mondrian

Too many toolmen
Fixing my TeeVee, fixing my gin
Squeak, squeak, squiggle, squeak
It’s off to work we am
Too many man-in-suits
Talky talky on the telephone-y
Call the presses, call in all favors
WHAT CAN I DO TO SELL YOU-------
Etcetera ad nauseum

Too many fat men
Too many small men
Too many wo-man
Whoa man

Too many people

Monday, November 10, 2008

To Whom it May Concern,

I'm now taking a break from the whole poetry thing until further notice. Unless inspiration has some kind of ambush planned. Which it won't. I will eat my words if the time comes though.

*eats words*

Oh yeah. That's what I wanted to call a novel.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Maybe we can

A symbol
Sure
And that's nice
I guess
But when the glitz
and the glory
Wear thin
Can you be
more than that?

We'll see
I guess

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Halloween at Gainex

The register Andrew puts me at is dirty and cluttered. Leave it to Grant. The conveyor belt has mulch all over it. I clean it off and tell Kevin someone was starting a flowerbed on it. He cracks the rare smile. I’m glad I could get him to smile. He has red hair and reminds me of my brother Sam. I guess I do still want to be liked by people. I don’t like to admit it to myself.

Eric has an eye patch and a big hoop earring. He says he’s a pirate. Grant and Anthony have giant afro wigs. They are both Ben Wallace. No pre-arranging. This elderly woman and her young daughter (or maybe grand-daughter), the girl probably only sixteen, are at my lane. The daughter is very beautiful. I feel weird for thinking this. Eric stutters on his words as he explains he is a pirate. The old woman jokingly says, “Yes, I can see you put a lot of thought into it.” Eric agrees. I find his idiocy entertaining. I like him. Everyone else here takes everything too seriously and just finds him an idiot. He is an idiot. But he doesn’t really have a choice like the rest of us.
The woman turns to me and asks me what I am. “A Gainex employee,” I answer, which receives big unexpected laughs. I didn’t think it was that funny, but the young girl’s laughter makes me smile and I brighten inside. I exist to her for half a second. I think I love her and feel like a degenerate for doing so.

My break arrives and this strange, heavy-set woman follows me outside. She asks me if I’ve seen some of the Halloween craziness going on. I ask her what’s happened. She explains, with several expletives, how some kids just up and stopped their car in the middle of a lane with a green light and filed out. Stupid kids. I agree.
We sit down near the curb and she starts to tell me about herself and her life. Someone in the past told me I have a calming spirit (I only wish that were true for my insides too). I guess that’s why people like to open up to me.
She is from New York and she says she tells it how it is and doesn’t care if it hurts anyone’s feelings. At work she’ll grin and smile, but if not at work, she’ll let you have an earful. I get one, but she’s nice to me, because I’m nice to her. I like people that have interesting things to say anyway.
She is the only daughter of ten kids. She wasn’t treated any differently as a girl, because her dad was a strict man and told her that the world wouldn’t treat her any better, so he wouldn’t.
One time her brother took her car and got in a wreck, taking her back $900 for repairs. She told him she would get him back and she did. He went into the bathroom one day after work and let out a howl a few minutes later. She had super-glued him to the toilet seat. His hospital bill was $400. He wanted to get her back but she said he cost her $900, and that she should be able to do it again and then some, so he conceded.
Her roommate could fuck like a jackhammer and broke the headboard on the bed once.
She then told me some vulgar joke, I laughed and told her it was nice talking to her and I think I meant it.

This man comes to the register and shoves some disinfectant wipes at me, then he starts to rant about how he couldn’t find a single brand without Spanish writing on it. “This Obama thing, and all this… I can’t believe what’s happening to my country.” I don’t say a single thing to him and hand him his receipt. His country?

The rest of the night is slow and the bit of self-esteem I’d been feeling is wearing off. Someone asks me if I’ve got any big Halloween plans and I tell them my night’s already gone because I’m here. I must sound like an ingrate. I look like one. I wouldn't have done anything if I wasn't at work anyway.

This pretty blonde employee that I hadn’t ever seen before enters my lane. She acts incredibly nervous and fumbles and acts absent minded and laughs a lot. She has a few pimples on her face, but otherwise she is gorgeous and has a great body. No breasts but I don’t care. I am in love with her instantly, even while knowing I will make nothing of it. She leaves her keys and laughs stupidly when she comes back to get them. I am enamored.

Someone asks for directions and Eric stutters them out. I think I should make those directions a bit more clear, but decide I’ll probably just spit out air anyway.

I go home and jack off, even though my dick hurts, and go to sleep.

Told you so

There is no use for this masculinity
There is no use for this pride
In the scheme of things
What do you matter
You don’t matter at all
In the argument
We both agree on the end
But we come from opposite means

You want to hit me to prove something petty
You want to hurt me to amuse your friends
But ten years from now you’ll say you were stupid
And I won’t even so much as say
“Told you so.”

Even though I should
Even though I have every fucking right

But "maturity"
"Decency?"
Does that even matter either?

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Robin Alexander 6

People tend to feel sorry for me
because I'm unhappy.
Because I don't have
what they have. Or I don't want
what they want.

And they're right about one thing.
I'm not happy.
But I'd rather be
dead
than want what they want.

But at the same time,
I ponder the alternatives.
They're really just different,
sometimes worse,
evils
altogether.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Panic Attacks

I need a vacation away from myself
An express paid trip to someone else’s conscious
There I can sit and experience this
The ordinary thoughts of an ordinary man
Give it an hour and then I’ll realize
These thoughts aren’t all that much different

But I live in a cage and those that do not
Make me feel worthless, make me feel small
I know this oppression is a self-realized thought
But how do you beat it when it’s still there
At every corner you turn
When it’s the thread in the fiber
The makings of who you are

When the solitude subsides to seclusion
Depression and god knows what else
I’ll ask for everything but what I need or want
Because that would just be too easy

And I'll die before I ever give you
the satisfaction of witnessing my panic attacks

Hungry

Spiritual
Emotional maybe
I never thought it could get this
Literal
My stomach like the camel’s hump
Filled with fat
Eating itself

My friend told me
A terrible joke
The kind he’s good at
The kind I like
“If you look at the world
Through the eye of a camera,
You can’t help but get a bit negative.”

Good
Bad taste
What’s taste
When there’s no taste at all

This alley orphan
Devours the beans I toss out
All the while
Trying, forcing myself
To think for myself
Of myself
Not of how bad it is
But of how much worse it can get
And how it gets there
Every time
Slowly but surely
Is it unconscious
Is it conscious

I can see it
But I can’t take it
I don’t want to take it
Too afraid I’ll hurt it
Or it might hurt me
Who was it that
Morphed love into a
Burning stove

This emptiness
This void
This blackhole in my belly
There’s got to be something better than
Cheap thrills, sex, booze
Drugs, camera eye highs
But nothing’s as quick I find

After all
It’s just a life
And I’m just living it

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Sylvia

a shattered splint
for a broken heart
and raiment tatters
spinning light fixtures
to dulled greys and browns
she wants to be wrong
she wants to be the crazy one
but what happens
when jealousy
and paranoia
is true? a man will be a
man will be a man will
be a man will be a

why
does great art
so often
lie in the palms of
death
?

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Conform or get out!
Conform or get out!
Conform or get out!
Conform or get out!

Out of what?
The human race?

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Home

I realize too late
There’s nothing there
But now I want to
Put something there
So everyone that thinks
There’s something there
Won’t have to suffer
The fate I did

There’s no one answer
There’s no one belief
In trying to find something
To believe
Because I threw out everything
And now there’s nothing
But there will be
Whatever it takes this time
I will make a place to understand
Where all your dreams
I understand
Where all your fears
I understand
Where all your pains
I understand

It’s a big black world
But there’s safety here
Just don’t stay too long
The wildebeests grow fickle
And the grapes'll go sour

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Whales

Out of focus and hyped up on unlove
Out of focus and the difference that’s made
The dusty camera remains on the shelf
And she sings with her mouth shut
But she sings with her heart on full blast

Out of focus and misunderstanding
Why exactly the meaning’s misplaced
The window blinds and the clarity fades
Soon it all will kill you
But we all die, so why cry
It’s just salty water running down your face

I don’t need your desk
I don’t need your nameplate
I don’t need your ideas
Or point of aesthetic
I get great shots
Without a camera
I see it all in third view

Out of focus and ready decisions
Out of focus but what does it mean
When every choice means indecision
When every rhyme is just room to save face

And how many whales had to cry
To get the ocean that salty

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

covered in viscous fluid, it's a vicious cycle, life's so Pyrrhic, it's barely worth the trouble, or is it?

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Bodily fluids
Dripping off her chin
She laughs
The mole on her forehead wrinkles
Lipstick smeared across her face
Connecting to her nose
Her long curly blonde hair
Falls over her shoulders
And descends into oblivion

Her guy friend
Stands to the side
Smiling stupidly
With a long face
One eye is larger than the other
He wears a brown plaid jacket
A grey eight quarter cap

A thin luminous haze
Surrounds them
And outside of that haze is
Black
Besides the streetlamp hovering over them

(started and not finished because uh...... i don't feel like it. poo off ye tomfoolerers.)

Somnambulance Pt 3

It must have been an hour
I just sat there staring at the pills
An overly used plastic glass
A crack in the bottom
Slowly leaking from the melting ice

I was thinking of when I’d like to go back
Did I even want to go back at all?
Was my past really that uneventful?
I thought of childhood
It was pretty standard
I remember it fondly as most do
But I realized if I went back to childhood
I wouldn’t care for it now
Innocence isn’t all that exciting
Once you’ve seen past it

My first kiss…
My first love…
My first sexual experience…
None of it grabbed me

I’d never been in love
Let’s just say my standards are too high
But I have dated some women
I would say I liked them formidably
Enough to go to bed with anyway
But none of those were great either
My first sex act was awkward
Something I’d much rather forget

So my life has been a boring mess
Wow, I never realized that

Well, there was one moment
When I was a part of a raid
I was first in after SWAT
And I took the two big cajones out
I was praised at the office for weeks

But really now…
Killing those two guys was that good?
It felt so good I wanted to revisit it?
Nah…

But what about the night of the beach murder?
Maybe I could go back there?
But how could I go back if I didn’t remember?
I couldn’t…
Who’s to say the pills even work anyway?!

Something came over me
A sweep of depression I guess
I thought of what little I had to live for
And downed all four pills
Within seconds though
I’d come to my senses
I induced vomiting
And covered the trashcan
And part of the floor
With beer and stomach acid
Noticing the four pills back on the floor
I felt a surge of drowsiness
And collapsed into a black out…

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Untitled #3094

One day there will be happiness
Nothing but infinite, clear, white, perfect
Happiness
And we will not take it for granted
Because we will have known the other side
The only doubts will be the thoughts of
How we don’t deserve it
At all

Unrealistic…

But impossible?

(I am a BIG fat optimist at heart. Don't believe anyone that tells you otherwise. Myself included.)

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Brazilian Woman

Fell in love with a Brazilian woman
Always thought she’d be Caucasian
Maybe Asian
But things are strange like that I guess

Love the way she sambas
All by herself because I can’t dance
Maybe one day I won’t be the wallflower
If there were someone to wake me it would be her

Fell in love with this Brazilian woman
She shakes, she shakes, she shakes me
My eyes rolling to the back of my head
She’ll never know the amount of love I have for her
Or should I say amor

Amor, amor, amor

Fell in deep with a Brazilian woman
She broke my heart before I could say hello
Oh well

VocĂŞ era o melhor
que eu nunca tive

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Somnambulance Pt 2

I boarded up in a random Motel 8
Off the side of Needles Freeway
The electricity was out
But I didn’t want to draw any
Unnecessary attention
So I just sat there in the dark
Trying to devise a plan

I’d taken the idiot road and run
Not showing up or calling in
Would not go unnoticed
And I realized that about an hour in

I’d finished off a six-pack
And was now formidably dazed
I was chewing on the left over ice
When the lights and TV flicked on and off
The split second image on the TV
Was of a man lying in a bed with a drink
Somewhat like me but not completely
It was eerie enough to bother me
But eventually I gave it up to coincidence
Or the booze messing with me
Probably both
Then I rolled over and fell asleep before I knew it

When I woke up
The lights and TV were on
But this time for good
I slowly rolled over to switch the light off
And saw a face in the window
Startled and with a throbbing headache
I looked away for a moment
Then looked back
It was gone

There was nothing remarkable about the face
Just a white male, with buzzed hair
A round face and big lips
He wasn’t smiling or scowling
Just looking
Needless to say, I was spooked

I reached around the desk for my gun
But the remaining bottle vision hindered me
Stumbling, an empty beer bottle
Crashed to the floor
That having woken me up further
I quickly edged my way to the door
Unlocked it and peeked out

I saw three men talking
Standing around the hood
Of a corvette
One of them was the man in the window
The other two were black

The booze taking hold of my nerves
I found myself angrily approaching him
“Why the hell you staring through my window?!”
My speech was slurred, but I didn’t care
I was at that point where I couldn’t
“Calm down,” he said softly
Looking me square in the eyes
But still with no expression
The two black guys seemed to be getting a little nervous
Now I was right in front of him
My stomach acting up a bit

“Are you five-o?” one of the black guys asked
“Do I look it?” I asked, snarling
“No,” the two said simultaneously
“You just seemed interesting is all,”
The strange white man cut in
“I thought you might like what I’ve got.”
A deal? Oh jeez, I thought
I could bust these three right here and now
But for some reason I didn’t want to
Maybe it was the booze
Maybe it was the fact that I’d committed a murder
And my priorities had changed
Probably both

I was never into drugs
I smoked pot a few times in school
But nothing hard
Just not my thing I suppose
But now it wasn’t sounding too bad
Maybe it’d take the headache away

“What do you have?” I asked
“I’m glad you asked,” he said
His composure never waning
How the fuck can someone be this calm?
Maybe it’s the drugs…
Yeah, maybe that’s it…
“I just got something new in.
It lets you go back to places in the past
And linger there.”
“Oh?” I questioned, puzzled
I’d never heard of anything like that
“Why would anyone want to do that?”
“Why wouldn’t they?” he asked me
“Think about a moment you’ll never forget.
Your first fuck. Your first kiss.
Your first love. Your first kill.
Whatever you want. You’re there.”
“Doesn’t sound that great to me.”
“Do you want some or not?”
Finally he was cracking a bit
A little impatient, huh
Maybe he was coming down or something

“Alright, I’ll take whatever.
Two doses I guess.”
“Good man,” he said.
He handed me these four green capsules
“Mix those with water
Then think about the moment you wanna go back to.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
I paid him and went back inside
This time I shut the blind though
So I wouldn’t catch him staring at me…

(continued…)

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Somnambulance

I see or hear about murders all the time
But the other night it was on the beach
No less than 20 meters from my door
They excluded me from the case
In lieu of special interest
Most of the heads are newer though
And don’t even know the seniority I hold

It must have been two weeks later
When I woke up on a highway
The blaring of a car’s horn must have taken me
I was alone in the grass in my robe
Bare-footed
It was wet and cold
I got an aching feeling
No one ever told me I sleepwalked

When I got home
(Nearly 2 miles away)
I sat and suddenly remembered
The hazy dream based on an experience
When I had to shoot down a dangerous suspect
The night of the murder

I decided I had to get a look at the scene

When I arrived I noticed
The print in the sand
Bare-footed
I went through the police tape
And placed my foot within the print

An exact match

There had to be some kind of mistake...

(continued… maybe.)

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

The Room in the House

He asked me to write a poem with my eyes closed
No focus on function or style
Just searching for the keys with my eyes closed
Searching for some sort of salvation that will not come

There’s a room in a house
Where the light’s always on
You can see it through
The crack at the bottom of the door
And an old wind-up victrola that keeps playing
Even though there’s no one to wind it
And it plays the bossa nova
But no one’s dancing

He told me to write a story with my eyes closed
That way I’d see it all take shape in my head
How the imagination can work its way
Even under black and red

But now I’m seeing blue
And I’m wondering if you
Would care if I connected colors
To moods
Orange for glad
Pink for mad
Brown for dirty
Green for sickness
and health

Do you see the trees?
They blossom in the winter
They blossom all year long

Out there it’s beautiful
With the flowered trees
And ripe, poisonous cherries

But in the room in the house
Where the music plays
During daytime the overhead light
Beats down on me
As if it were the only thing
Living
And there’s no switch here
So I crawl
Into the room with no windows
And see the story ---
once in black and red ---
Now just black

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Limerique

These things are always happening
These things never go away
They wring at your neck
When you least expect
Just to see how much you can take

There’s a monster in my closet
There’s a monster in my pants
I don’t know which one I’m more afraid of
But when fantasy recedes to reality
I know I’m barely adequate

And if they can see that
If they know the truth too
Then please go ahead and let me go
I’ve seen it all now and I can tell when I’m not wanted

These things are always happening
These things are still there now
But you just cry about this
And cry about that
Because there’s not much else you can do

Saturday, September 27, 2008

The Weight of the Phrase

How ya doin'?
How are you?
What's happening?
How you doing?
How are you doing?
How you doin'?
What's up?
Hi, how are you?
How are you today?
Doin' good today?
How's the family?
Helloareyoufeelingalright?
Nice weather we're
havingHow are you?

I'm great, how are you?

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Employee of the Week

Too many things to lie about
And to lie about it to the twelve dozen strangers
I’ve greeted today
Is the real tragedy

That damn clock
I can’t reach it to tape it over
I can’t reach it to knock it off
I can’t look
I can’t look away
The time doesn’t fly
When you’re stuck thinking
Every second of it

Numbers, numbers and more numbers
I never want to see a number again

Grant yelled at me
Telling me to smile
But he was nice about it
But it has to be there
It has to come naturally
I don’t have it
I don’t want to

People know a fake smile anyway
It can be more disheartening than a frown

I feel like I’ve devolved
My first job was terrible
This one’s decidedly worse
But I shouldn’t complain
Even if the truth is: I don’t
Not enough
It all goes in this book
Where no one sees it

I think the real point of complaining
Is getting someone to listen

But this is who I am
Nothing spectacular
No matter how much I want to be
I might spend the rest of my life
Putting people I don’t even care about
Before myself
Without a smile
But trying
And maybe one day
I’ll find true love if I can look her in the eye

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Big Black

Comfort zone?
Never heard of it
Limits are lies
No surprise
I’m below sea level
Watching the big black fish
Eat the little black fish
Maybe I’m next

Terra’s a big black mess
And it pumps its indigestion
Like it’s second nature
Maybe it is
Not and then some

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Adrift

Lost the plot
Lost the setting
All the characters
And their development

Lost the coughs
Lost the sneezes
Lost the bleeding noses
And the bloodstained lapel

Lost my heart in the gutter
Lost my mind to a conscious lover
Lost my soul to hell
And no one even so much as
Asked right out, politely

My teeth are rotting before I’m dead
My eyes are deteriorating with the TV screen
Every dot and squiggle
Embedded in second memory
My blood is pumping in the wrong direction
Turpentine sludge slowing and stopping
My eardrums bleeding and popping
With the loveless, serious tune of the band on the stereo

God please
Set me adrift
I wonder if
It matters now

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Duplicitalubiquitous

When’s the news?
It’s nothing new
I follow close behind
When you’re sleeping
When you’re waking
When you’re walking
When you turn

And every song that you sing
It casts a glance
To the darker corners of the theatre
Till it all makes sense
Yet it does not flow
It does not go
In the direction
Of the bread trail left here for it

You’re so conceited
You’re so naĂŻve
You’re so defeated
Is it because of me?
Did I hurt you?
In the act of trying my best
To never hurt you
I cannot win

Are they cutting on your heartstrings?
Are they tugging the linen sheets
Do they want you bare and naked
Vulnerable to the touch or wisp of breath

My audience will never laugh
This jaded crowd will never cry
This heartless mob will never feel
The play goes on but no one cares

Why do I talk?
Why do I sing?
Why do I write?
Why do anything?
Why do I move?
Why do I love?
Why do I breathe?
Because I can and will

Forget-me-nots
All forgotten now
Collapse the rafters
Rewind the laugh-track

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Father Ayrum

“Please, father.”

A classic case of Romeo and Juliet

She was in love

And her parents did not correspond

They had even threatened to

Ex-communicate

“Child, I am sure your parents…

They can only mean the best for you---“

“Yes, I know, of course, but---“

“But your heart says otherwise.”

“Yes, yes!”

“But for a minute…

Look past the blindness of love, child.

Is this boy ideal…?

Or does he merely appear so?”

She went silent

“In all things, God chooses love.

From which party do you want, no, need love most…?

And from which party will it be returned?”


I can only hope she found her answer

Relationship advice is not my strong-suit

Especially when my other party can be so…

Distant…

At times


I know I…

Especially I…

Should not say such nonsense

But every relationship has its doubts

And the mysteries are as un-engaging at times

As they are intriguing


In example

A disturbed paedophiliac comes in

About once a month

Expelling his sins

Mournfully

Each time

I so wish I could breach that contract

Like a psychiatrist to a patient

But I am no psychiatrist

I give him the same answer every time

Only when he turns himself in

And faces his earthly punishment

Can he then absolve for his sins


I don’t know if he attends mass

He’s made a point of either concealing his voice

Or simply never speaking when near

If he does


…How can there not be doubts?

Despite the theory that most humans

Are generally good-natured at heart

Begging forgiveness,

I cannot feel sorry for a man

Who gives into temptation again and again

And makes no real attempt to change those habits


Just the other day

Some mafia thug

Came in and demanded

All held offerings

People rob banks

Not churches

This felt personal

God must have “wronged” him

But when his eyes lit up with surprise

At the few measly dollars I returned with

I knew then it was simple luck


Producing a gun he said

“Heh, where’s your god now, huh?”

To which I replied,

“This has nothing to do with God.”

Which must have frazzled him

Because he left the money and ran

With the drop of a hat

The luck had switched sides


Strange how it can sometimes

Feel far more tangible


They call me Father Ayrum

And I may well be the worst priest ever

But I didn’t exactly get into this business for…

Competitive reasons


(Not being very religious myself, I know this may seem a bit... euh... amateur I guess? But the whole idea behind confessionals has intrigued me lately, so forgive me for the blasphemy. But don't really. Because I don't actually mean it.)

Monday, September 15, 2008

Yellow

I want to surprise you again
I want to go far beyond my limits
I want to surprise me again
Make you see what I’ve been doin’ all this time

Maybe I do have too many hobbies
And nothin’ much else in between
A few friends, but they don’t matter
Just like I don’t faze them

She walks underneath
Adjoined skyscrapers
And reads all the papers
That glide slowly down
All from different dates
And different years
Stories once current
Now gone yellow
Now discarded
Like the orphaned retarded
It’s in this one moment
I comprehend abortion

Yeelllloooow
Is the color of my heart
Is the color of my teeth, and eyes
Is the color of my piss

Yeelllloooow
Is the dreamers in the night
The bird that cannot take flight
Or fight, for what they believe
Or simply what God gave

Yeelllloooow
Is the color of my mind
Is the color of the tumor
In my soul, and its lining

It's the color of my life
And not at all like the sun
More the sickly sweat
Stained fingers from cigarettes

Yeelllloooow
I'm always going to be
Your broken history
But never the one
That happened
(Corn is also yellow. This doesn't flow well either. I might care more later. On an unrelated note, at least I know some useful html and can format as I please from now on. Whoop dee doo. On a slightly related note, I now have poems called Blue, Green, and Yellow. Yay, color ploms. On another slightly related note, the thought of "soul cancer" is cool. In an artistic sense of course... Of course.)

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Jamie Chilton

He liked that movie, Flubber,
A lot
He liked to say the word, flubber,
A lot
I never questioned him

I remember the bent basketball hoop
Just shooting hoops
Back and forth
Back when I pretended to care about sports
But actually enjoying myself
And we didn't say a word
But ten minutes in he'd say:

"Flubber!"
"What?"
"I love that movie."

He liked that movie, Flubber,
A lot
He liked to say the word, flubber,
A lot
I never questioned him again

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Listen

Everything I’ve done

I was trying to be someone else

When it finally comes back to me again

I think I wanna kill myself


I’ve got something to say

I’ve got something to say

I’ve got something to say

And that is?

I’ve got nothing to say


This is not twisted

No matter how much they claim I am

This is not pretense

I’ve no reason left to pretend

Now that I know I never did


I’ve got something to say

I’ve got something to say

I’ve got something to say

Which is…

I’ve got nothing to say


There’s this joke I tell

That you’ll never get

And that’s alright

Some people just aren’t meant

To get it

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Untitled #3093

Bought a book for every issue I had

Didn’t take a look at all I already had

Thought the experts would know what the problem was

Based off of their own personal experiences

Bought a tape for all the things I couldn’t say

Put it on as I dozed off to sleep

Woke up and realized all I had were a bunch of words

So I used those words, with my own twist


Joined the geniuses and pretty people on TV

Ended up I was just like all of them

But I couldn’t seem to come to my own conclusions

I couldn’t seem to see what was there in the place


So I bought some bonds for every child I had

Sold them off and sent them off to college

While they’re in school I hope they can figure out

What it’s like to come to their own conclusions