Saturday, May 31, 2008

No Spiders in Limbo

I’ve sung the requiem
For all the bitter hearts laid to rest
And I always do my best
To make them all feel welcome
In limbo or at the pearly pearly gates
Even in hell, I shake his hand
And bless all those that could not humble
To ask forgiveness
Even if in birth we were equal
In death we tread a singular path

The spider clings to
The cardboard scrap hanging from
The trash can’s flap
And I feel bad
For being so afraid of him
Because he is much more afraid of me
And where does a soul go
When it’s smashed by the sole of the shoe
I never saw a spider in heaven or hell
Nor in limbo
But maybe that’s because
Their souls look a lot like ours
Just as stupid
Just as timid
Just as much begging forgiveness

Does the Styx current rush along
Or does it wash us down the drain
with the spiders’

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Cloudhead

Maybe we used to be a part of something
But a part of something never were we
Maybe the skylights weren’t searching us out
But now that can’t much matter
I want to fly off the side of the world
But there’s no side of the world to fly
Best laid in my contradictions
It takes the best indecisions to decide
Which way it is the wind blows
On these hot new summer nights
Because it’s not blowing this way
And I’ve waited much too long
For someone, anyone to see my side
But there’s no side to show
I turn, or stand, alone, embarrassed, naked
And still they do not know
The simple message that I spread
The fire in the ice
To know no wish is to know no sorrow
But also no ecstasy
I’ll never ask your love to borrow
But it’s much too precious to keep
If the sun were to bury its child
In the warmth of your womb
Would you fear your death in labor
Or would you laugh at the notion
Because Jesus came and Jesus went
And I doubt he’s coming again
And even if he did one day
No one would so much as believe it
But I’m not Jesus, we’re not Jesus
We’re human and that’s even better
Our fates are not tied to the stars
And God has no will over what we say or do
But at the end of the long every day
I sit alone and think again
That maybe the things I made for myself
Were really meant to be
The stars aren’t so hard to look past
When you stare directly at them

Coasting

No more caffeine
And no more drinking water
Just soaked alcohol daylight
Barely past morning
Flip a coin into the fountain
And pray for blood or gasoline
Tomorrow will be somatic
We’ll all speak through screams
And motion in semaphore
And suck down mineral fluid
Actuated through latest methods

Everybody wants to be different
But we all fall in somewhere
One day the subsets will all kill eachother
And there will be no race, or preference
Just blood and
Gasoline
Enough
To light a fire
Enough
To start a car
And drive into the ocean
And watch for fishies
fish.fish.fishies

Monday, May 26, 2008

Get a Hint

If I could have it my way
I’d never speak to you again
But since we do it your way
I guess I’ll just ignore you

Some of us just need to get a clue
I don’t like you and you don’t like me
But you persist in just being there
Maybe you like me more than you’ll let on
But I’m sick of having to listen
To your sleazily-placed insults
Just to get an ounce out of
What you MIGHT say

But still you’re around
You might be joking, but I don’t get it
You can talk shit about my life
When you’re out there smoking whatever
Or selling it when you’re not
I may be boring for someone
Who needs drugs and blowjobs
To call it an enjoyable life
But some of us can sense the subtleties
And enjoy it just as much

So next time you leave
Please don’t come back
I said it once and you still
Don’t get the hint

Maybe you just need a friend
But it’s obvious why you don’t have one

Friday, May 23, 2008

Nothing New (But we can try)

I’ve been walking home forever
Nobody opens their doors anymore
They all know
It’s too much trouble
And I can understand
So I sit down and wait
For teach' to teach
But she just prattles on
About summer vacation
All the managers are dogs
All the representatives
Are idiots with shiny white smiles
And now I’m caught
At the coffee table
Trying to have a
Rational conversation
With murderers
That write about their
Exploits on cyberspace
And still think they’ll
Get away with it somehow
Someway

(There’s enough evil in the world
That could just as well never be
Attributed to Satan
But still I insist in writing fiction
And watching movies where
Everyone and the lead dies)

I’ve seen empty capsules
Then capsules filled with cyanide
And this one and that one
Tearing each other’s hair out
And like anyone else
I just stood there and watched
Them bleed into the sewer
Without so much as trying
To make them stop

There’s some nugget of truth
I’m apparently unearthing that
Even I am not aware of
As these words mean more or even less
Than I ever intended
Meanwhile they say Armageddon’s coming
Every year and it still hasn’t
Just little earthquakes
Never the big one
Mad little boys crying wolf
Who can really tell the difference
Maybe it’s already begun
Maybe what’s really needed
Is not some penultimate ending
But a brand new chapter
To add to the story
Because it’s all starting to sound the same

When archetypes are like music theories
And love and peace is cliché to say the least
There's no way I'll become the wicked to stop the wicked
Even if justice in limbo is simply not enough

A question for all murderers or potential murderers

What the
fucking
hell
gives you
the right
to decide
who lives
and
who dies?

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Wildebeests

Park your rainbow there
By the back stairs, get
Inside from the mad
Wildebeests that’ll
Getcha. Have a cup
Of coffee, slow home-
Ground. The body’s strong
But the aftertaste
Is to die for. Ex-

Cuse me though, I’m com-
Ing down. Something about
The water or maybe
The air in this town.
It makes me wonder
About art for the
Sake of art. My en-
Tire life laid bare, oh

Listen to me jab-
Ber on, you don’t care
Or maybe I’m not
A good judge of char-
Acter. Humans are

Such fascinating
Creatures but so are
Wildebeests I’m told.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

hot lava!

Body's lined up
Everyone gets a drink
Life was a loss
But so are we
human

Could have been so good
But now it's too bad
We've taken off
Into the fires of hell
The volcano spews its
hot lava! hot lava! hot lava! hot lava!

(LOL)

Untitled #3063

It’s time to get ready, love
Tomorrow will mean more than Pleiades
Have you considered your New Earth exonym?
The words to be whispered behind one’s back
You won’t get by with simple idiosyncrasies
Not at this point at least
The slake intoned
The touch exposed
The number of the beast

I’ve never been one for space travel
But I’ve had my share of it
It’s not at all much worse, nor too better
Just dim as hell, and deathly quiet
And not a sign of life for miles and weeks

But the view, the view, oh wow
Sometimes you have to just wonder
If God only wanted pretty things to look at
---What’s that?

No, the harmonium is already packed
And when we’ve made our place in Neon Valley
I’ll play those three chromatic notes for celebration
For peace and health
And victory over the elements
Those demons can finally relax

(???)

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Black rainbow

Green black sea
They stuck a hole in you
And raped you
Roughly
Like the screaming virgins
Of villages they razed

Green black trees
They took their claws
And tore you nude
And broke your backs
Like the old men with canes
That stood in the way
Of the battering rams

Brown black dirt
They set the grass ablaze
And watched it smolder
Like thousands of cigarettes
Puffing and filling the lungs
Of the loved ones

Blue black sky
Maybe yet
We’ll see the sun again

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Life according to Robin Alexander Pt 2

Whenever they said
God was in me
I always thought of
A little Jesus
Floating around in my stomach
With an umbilical cord

But I think I understand now
God is us, and everything around us
And he takes on this form
So he can be there
All the time
In everything we taste
Touch and hear

I finally get what they meant by
God is everywhere
Because God IS everywhere
He IS everything
His disguise is the “reality”
That we know so well

...I don't know
It sounded better
When I was drunk

Mother's Day

The sea level
Meets today
With the sky
Beginner’s luck
She says
To no one

Laughing, she dives
Back in -
The thin layer of algae
Swims with her -
And the pool, if only
For moments,
Resides within its own
Enclosure

It’s Mother’s Day -
So she remembers -
But no letter,
Nor call, email
Just a slender wisp of
Gratifications
Born from
I-told-you-sos
Altogether
Covering up
That biting
Disappointment
In her gut

Just because
You’re in the
Running
Doesn’t mean
You’re the best
There is
And ever was

At least I don’t
Kid myself
That much
She thinks
I never was
Much of
A cook
To begin with

Friday, May 16, 2008

Reverse Narcissism

Cut
Into
Two

Alone
On the couch
Watching
Terrible movies
With my
Favorite
Actors
In
Them

Awkward
Self-hate
Still doesn’t
Come off as
Endearing
In any way

Reverse
Narcissism
Is still
Narcissism

Maybe
I was
Born
Dead

Set
On
Loving
Myself

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Life according to Robin Alexander (More Excerpts)

1

I hate to clean

Part of me believes
Beneath all that clutter
Is something
But really
That clutter
Is who I am
I’d hate to clean it all up
And see that underneath
There is really nothing
But space

2

A war at Tarawa.
Tulsa night life:
filth, gin, a slut.
tug at a gut

live on evolver, revolve no evil

3

in a perfect world
the word "palindrome"
is a palindrome itself

4

What a boring life you lead
He had said
Yeah
I replied somberly
As if I actually
Wanted out of it

Most of the times though
I’m just glad to be alive

It’s too late for this anyway
Can’t it wait
Till tomorrow
Or never

5

the only difference between
life and death;
one, you're dead
the other, you're dying

g'night

Born too late

I remember the forgotten era
The one we never lived
The sixty million sounds
That everyone heard but us

Blessed under tragedy
Given unto plight
Well I guess we may have
Been born too late

These words
Are dreams we’ve never had
And dreams we’ll never live
We think we’re so good
But there’s someone better
We think we’re so free
But they are already further in the air
And as we build our way up
To that ideal that that we covet
We still hum tone-deaf tunes
And write sloppy lyrics
They speak of evolution
But our blood-shot eyes
And keyless voices are proof
That it’s all but
Run its course

So we’ll drag our shovels
To a hot place under the sun
To dig our graves
And lie in them
And wonder all the time
They claimed our worth
And maybe they were right

Resting in heartbreak
Given unto blight
Now that we know that we
Were born too late

But this corpse believes in reason
No one ever found reason
Without trying

(I spent an hour on this and it's still shit. Argh.)

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Maybe we can be ghosts

When we die
Float around the backs of stars
And forget about God for awhile
Waiting
We can be specters passing
Through the night
Cool and calm and
Free

But these eyes only witness
A damned repetition in which
A similar scene replays
Watching one’s self expire
At the turn of midnight
Every hour

Maybe we’re all ghosts
When we die
Some of us just learned how to
Shut up
And lay around like when
We were on our deathbeds
Or in front of the TV
And see heaven
For what it really is

Maybe ghosts are just
the world's memories
Slipping the collective unconscious
The creases in the mind
The primal instinct
Believing only what we see
and discarding that which
we cannot

So says the blind man...

...When we’re old
And when I die first
If I haunt your dreams
Tell me to go away
Hopefully I’ll listen
But who knows what
State of mind I’ll be in
Or if I'm just a well-placed replica

Or maybe I’ll finally let you know
The ghosts are more alive
Than we ever were
More alive than the love
Given, taken
or mutual

Until then
I'll keep my own peace of mind away
From the dark haunted walls of
This mansion

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Tainted Art

I think that’s all he knows now
Everyone deserves a chance
But there’s something about art
And money
That almost feels like
Robbing a bank and
Getting away with it

They’d louse about
At his showings
But he’d answer any questions
They would ask
Ran a pencil through his ear
Like a pencil sharpener
But that wasn’t art
That was magic

The magic tasted the money
And now he stays inside
All the time
Working on his masterpiece
Living off royalties
And cheap replicas
Of the real thing
Who’d have dreamed
The dog sitting, licking
The canvas would bleed
Onto the frame

He doesn’t answer
Questions anymore
And he does what Faulkner did
With all his mail
(look it up)

I guess when they eat up
Whatever you shit out
…I can see how that
Might change an outlook
But art’s a lot like money
Or wait, no it’s not

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Starved

Remember the plans we’d had
We were going to go to France
And splash around in the fountain
Like the stupid kids we were then
Just like all the things we said
But knew they’d never happen
Well this is one of them
I’m still stuck, testing the waters

I took the courage to say
Everything you meant to me
It was all I could do to
Put off the unavoidable farewells
I don’t believe so much
In this thing they call true love
But I know I believe in love

Isn’t that really all we need?

I don’t want to be like all
Those old and lonely people
Killing time with hobbies at night
Waiting for the rain to
Come and wash their lives away
Take them down the sewer drain
Where they think that God could be
Waiting for them patiently
And when the clock strikes one
Do you think they go and run
Like the kids to the ice cream man
To their fleeting game-plans

That late night TV with the commercial dreams
In between

I took my life apart
Before and after and now again
And I don’t know why it is
Some people are just meant to self-destruct

But sometimes I can be like that
I can be the worst person you ever met
I put it on like self-defense
But it’s really what’s killing me underneath
And everyone watches and laughs
And walks away, satisfied
I’m in the ring, I am the bull
I am their minor distraction
But now I know the aftermath
The future skewed
The past gone mad
And every day I said to you
“I really love you”
Maybe now I didn’t so much
Maybe I just didn’t want to be like
All those old and lonely people
Starved for love

Friday, May 9, 2008

Give it a day

Give it a day
And you’ll be over it
Idiots always have
A lot to say
Because they don’t
Ponder the consequence
But sometimes maybe
You do too much
And then end up
Getting nothing done

Give it a day and
The world will dig you in
And laugh and say
You dug your own grave
Through idleness
And willing decline
You’ll hear them laugh
And talk about you
From behind that
Closed and nailed
Box

Don’t give it a day
To wait it out
Tell them what
You’re thinking now
But do it civil
Do it polite
Make them feel like
Total assholes
You’ll be the only one
That’s sleeping tonight

80's Night

Said I should come to
80’s night
Make some new friends
Besides the ones that only know how to
Screw me over
I said I don’t know if I dance

No better time to find out then

Said she was worried
About me
And when was the last time
Anyone did that
Mom’s just glad when I
Leave the house
Dad’s just glad when I
Don’t wake him up

Said she hadn’t seen me
Happy since what was
Her name again?
Who cares, nobody needs
Names anymore anyway
Maybe we should just go by
Bob or Sue

Stood there for awhile
At the door contemplating
Something or other
I can figure most people
Out with one look but
She was different
Talking to her was like
Talking to yourself

Finally said
Please come by on
80’s night
Life’s not so bad
If you live it

So I told her
I would show up on
80’s night
Even though I knew

I wouldn’t.

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Art Show

I don’t know if I belong
At these art shows
But I go to them anyway
I couldn’t tell you why a Monet
Is any better than a Manet
But I do see something
In the endeavor of pretty pictures
And paintings

I went with a friend
To an opening that was busier
Than usual
I proposed we get a sandwich
And wait till it cleared out
She wasn’t so quick to surrender

So with a little polite shoving
And standing on our toes
(Tall people should be fined
For standing in the front)
We had a satisfactory time

When I was getting tired
And really missing that sandwich
Aubrey (this friend of mine)
Pulled me over to listen to
Someone giving a speech
On the mechanics of art
It sounded like a jumble of remarks
To me
So I just stood there
Hands deep in pocket
Thinking I couldn’t be any more bored
Sitting at home and watching
Sex and the City with my mom

But about a third of the way
Into the speech
Somebody (God thank them)
Let out a very loud awkward fart
The crowd laughed
The speaker paused
Looked un-amused
Then continued

The rest of the speech
I stared at the lips of
The speaker
And imagined nothing but
Fart sounds
Issuing from his mouth

We eventually left and
I finally got my sandwich
As I ate
I devised a probable
Thesis statement on a napkin

“Art is a trained fart
A carefully considered
Ejaculation

Unless you’re burnt out
Lazy, or self-satisfied

Then it’s just porn”

I asked Aubrey’s opinion
And she said it was somewhat true
But it would get me a C minus

At best

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Nobody's Sorrow

I am nobody’s sorrow
But my own
I scratch nobody’s back
But mine
I write every little word
For myself
And douse it all with
The cheapest beer or wine
I can find

I feel no one’s pain
But mine alone
I change no one’s mind
But mine
I believe no theories
But the one’s I create
And when I kiss my children
On the forehead
I am kissing what little of me
Is in them

The neighbors just shake their heads
And go on with their business
The co-workers laugh or disregard me
Whatever time they are allotted
The doctor writes me sugar-pill placebos
Without even taking a look at me
And my wife
She just rolls her eyes
And tells me she wants a divorce

But she’s been saying that for
Thirty five odd years now
And I think we all know why
It simply sucks
To not be me

Friends

I was going to talk
But I put it off
And that's when it came back around
I was going to sleep
But I stayed up all night
And that's when the angels came down
And rescued me (I wish)
Angels don't exist
At least not when you're this
Listless-less-less….

I was going to move
But instead I just turned in my grave
And waited on tomorrow or maybe yesterday
I was going to prove
Everything that I've got
But being dead's all I'm really good at

Hey hey hey
Who is the trickster shuffling cards?
Is he death or just boredom
Teasing my patience
I don't need this B.S.
I've lived longer than you have
In your infinite years
It's the nonsense catching nonsense
It's the donkey calling me a jackass

I was going to talk
Something I'm not too good at to begin with
But I just had other things to do
Or maybe part of me was living instinct
It's so easy to lose friends
When they are really only thinly veiled assassins

So do I prefer torture
Or death?
It almost seems a no-brainer
Until it actually happens to you

Excerpts 5

1

Call me a slacker
Just because I know
for a fact
What it is I don't care about

2

Opened a bottle of soda
On the side was some
Dried spit
Or maybe cum, who knows

Now I know why people
Drink alcohol
Instead of this fizzy sh.t

Even if someone splooges in your drink
You're still wasted

3

Are you an artist
Just like me
Or are you an idiot
Just like me

Maybe we just don't have a
Mainstream appeal
Maybe we just don't know
What we're talking about

Ooo, ooo!
May I please be
the first to admit?

...Doesn't mean I'll quit

4

For some reason
We didn't talk about kids until
after the marriage

When the subject finally came up
I said
"Kids are useless, needy
Moving, screaming
stumps
for 18 odd years.
And after that
It's really the luck
of the draw."

She didn't seem to share my
Realistic
Outlook

5

The crazies aren't quite as compelling
As they used to be
Paranoia isn't quite as interesting
As it once was
I've heard one or two good ideas
From the head of a crazy man
The rest was just
Crazy I guess

6

You can scratch me off the list
You know I don't show up for these
Soirees anymore anyway
It's not my thing, so I can finally admit it
People talking about people
Or just getting wasted
Wasted people talking about wasted people
It's not so much I don't know what to say
More, it's all worthless fuss
So mark me off there--- thanks
Wipe that frown off your face
And try not to hate me so much