Tuesday, January 24, 2012

114

salt and spikes
spiky shoes
rockabilly blues
emo is news
but that's just how i feel
pretty boy floyd
spiking, grooving, bodies moving
crunch, crunch, crunch
We can time it
To the minute
stare out a window
at evaporating shadows
and
forming fixtures
take a picture
of
light posts and salt grains
chewing on leather
soles and the souless
chewed, bitten, now biting
a winter that's air
a winter that's there
sometimes
no Photoshop
make for the best pictures
but please add some filters
an eye and some film
and some magic
(smile less,
speak less,
big eyes,
cheeks in,
mouth open,
hair down,
tilt left but tilt right,
but head down,
now chin up,
now sit tight)
click, click, click,
yah that
emo
fuckin'
kid
shit
(grow up baby/it's beautiful/just like you)
it's the latest accessory
like the scarf 'round your neck
like the hat on your head
and fingertips
red
poking out from
those fingerless
gloves
whew..
the winter wind biting
salt chewing
feet fighting
not to trip
loose shoe
grips
those soleless soled shoes you
haven't gotten used to
exhaust spew
street lights stream
and steam
from glossy sewers
artificial warmth from the trains below and bodies moving
to and fro
And you can hear the snow
Sounds muffled, feets shuffled
As flakes fall
We can time it
To the minute
Fall, fall, fall
Except "snowflakes", they say, "don't make no sound at all"
But they do, and they do
Everything does
and if you thought you heard buzzing
in your ears
it's about to get a lot louder, my dears

Sunday, January 22, 2012

113

On a Sunday
Stay in bed as long as you can
On a Sunday
More than you
On a Sunday
But who is counting
On a Sunday
Some days I'm clean and safe
On a Sunday
Most days I'm dirty and dangerous.
On a Sunday
Both are fun/boring.
On a Sunday
Fly me too the moon
On a Sunday
Put a knife to my diamond cocoon
On a Sunday
Wilted flower
on a pedestal
Kiss tiny flowers
On a Sunday
Young tongues
Out the mouth
Like a plastic lid
On a paper cup
On a Sunday
Silver chairs
But I want platinum
On a Sunday
Give me sunflowers
On a Sunday
When sleeping all day is OK
On a Sunday
Muffled noises about the room
Give me any day but Sunday, soon.


Monday, January 16, 2012

112

this is about nothing
and all that nothing means
all it means is nothing
and it all means nothing
no
it was the best worst thing she could have
known
there is no right and
there is no wrong
there is only a lack of
black (it's always too bright)
and understanding (yah, I see the light)
but if you knew then you might know why
an ugly thing is ugly
and then you might even think this ugly thing pretty
and if not
then you would know
for absolutely certain
that it was what it was
as you thought
and nothing different
because hope was still just a place
you only could imagine
but you couldn't be sure
you could only imagine
only, you could imagine
only, could you imagine?
a better place you us we
were going to end up
and then you would know
for sure
there is absolute right
and then you would know
for sure
there is absolute wrong
then and only then
and still, and just still
all it means is nothing
and it all means nothing
nothing still,
just like always,
just like
the pretty skewed view
the pretty skied view
the pretty lake view
and the ocean view
and the morning's dew
and now i think of wet things
like abandoned umbrellas
and melting gold rings
but i never took my eyes off you
but i need to feel new
It's hard to believe things will change
It's harder to believe things won't
it's hardest to leave this place
but it's worse never to go
my heart, sometimes I hear it dying
when it's voice is really low
and i'm worried if i stay here anymore
what will happen
and it's not enough to stay because
my heart it is a muscle
so i've got to let it grow and
i've got to let it breathe and
i've got to and bleed and
i've got to let it beat
and don't think too much about it
cause nothing's all it means
and all it means is nothing
just like always
just like
never-ending
light-suspending
day dreams




Saturday, January 14, 2012

110

stop being clever
it's boring
it gets tired fast
and annoying
just be original
dot dot dot
now THERE is a mother fucking challenge


get one today!

109

I want to go
somewhere dark,
you know
But not to a place
you can actually go
But somewhere darke
fancy like. Carry the Le
Fancy Like, like a la carte
But not sad dark,
But a fun dark
A late-night dark
An early-morning
A dark that's purple
A dark that makes you smirk
And ask yourself is this really
ha-p-p-ening?
Am I
here?
Are you
there?
Dark like indigo
Dark like violet
Maroon
And emerald
I wanna go somewhere dark
Oh, won't you take me to that dangerous rainbow
Let's see
if we
Can reach
It's end
And then
Our friends
To end
the night
In black
And white

"What an unfortunate end! How wunderful!"

Friday, January 13, 2012

108

(a pending series)

Words and Their Meanings: Then & Now

"Curating" then:  a content specialist responsible for an institution's collections and involved with the interpretation of heritage material. (gallery, museum, archive, etc.)

"Curating" now: getting stoned and browsing youtube for 9 hours, then posting "amazing" videos on your shitty, unread blog.

107

I knew you were leaving,
But I didn't really know you were leaving,
Until you actually left.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

106

I drink cause I write cause I write so I drink cause I write so I write cause I drink cause I drink cause I write cause I write so I drink cause I write so I write cause I drink cause I drink cause I write cause I write so I drink cause I write so I write cause I drink cause II drink cause I write cause I write so I drink cause I write so I write cause I drink causeI drink cause I write cause I write so I drink cause I write so I write cause I drink cause I drink cause I write cause I write so I drink cause I write so I write cause I drink cause I drink cause I write cause I write so I drink cause I write so I write cause I drink cause I drink cause I write cause I write so I drink cause I write so I write cause I drink cause drink cause I write cause I write so I drink cause I write so I write cause I drink cause im a professional


Monday, January 9, 2012

105

Dear Human Hands,

Hold a book like you would hold a baby,

Carefully.

The book more carefully so.

That is all.



104

if i stay up all night
maybe i could think right
think about it all night
and feel anything but all right
and
if i couldn't fake it
Then
maybe i could make it
make it on my own
or with you
but
you grew up
and
you got hard
baby let's just be soft
soft soft
so soft
together
prepositions and propositions
a spark/ a sneeze/ a bit of thread
it's all here in my little insane head
'cause i remember everything
I have a hang bag full of doubts
But not a conscience for regret
Slight
Think right
and i hear music, i hear music
all the time and everyday
and my ears they don't stop ringing
when down my head i rest to lay
on your cardboard chest
to hear the beat of
your petrified heart
and we can't stay
and we can't sleep
and we can't bathe
and we can't breathe
for another week
and i never want it to be easy
i never want it to be true
i never want it to be warm
i would forget everything i knew
that i think that you are brave
and you think I am cool
that you think I am beautiful
that i think you're a fool
and please don't let it end
if someone stops playing pretend
we'll all have to
exposure don't pay the bills
they don't even support the thrills
anymore
nothing's fun
anymore
except sometimes when it is
When the bubbles rise to fizz
In a glass full of happy
But you can't know
You'd never know
I say three
And you say four
i am a concrete floor
in a porno theatre
sticky and rue with those things you
aren't supposed to love
but you do, you do
you love them in the dark
a kiss in the doorway
a fuck in the park
run to dim lit street corners
It could be safe there
Always there
I'll meet you there
But I'd be late
But you would know
And you would wait