POETICUS MUNDI

2006-12-19T17:37:00.000-06:00

Wednesday 11/29/2006

Hot Drunken Foolish Tears

Hot tears flow like they haven't fell in so very long.
Moments since I dropped you off
all these drunken words ring.I feel your suffering.
I feel your need.I feel your aloneness.I feel your desire.
We scream together.We talk together.
and I understand everything.everymotherfucking thing that
you say and feel, perfectly,and no one,absolutely no one else
gets it, accepts it, feels it, understands it
like me.You make me feel open, vunerable,
in ways I haven't felt in many many years
but different because even with the feelings then,
there were differences
and I have never, ever felt the same
as someone else, the same inside,as I do with you.

At the bar, you talk of other men near
the young and pretty
less damaged, less deep, less real
as if that is what you want.instead of me.
I'm not the youngest
the prettiest
the most simple.
the most fashionable.
I am flawed.I am however the deepest, most real
most profoundly honest
perfect reflection of your soul,
and a hell of a lot better
than any of these others
in every single possible way
that truly matters.
I mumble these words
I feel them slip on by and I suspect that
you don't want me, and maybe never will.
It feels like tigers claws in the gut.
We laugh.I'm there for you.
I offer support and strength, tiny bits of wisdom,
I mean every single word with more truth and heart
than any words I could ever speak.
You are sad and you are alone as am I.
You are cursed and blessed with
awareness of the emptiness of the world.
the void, a curse and blessing I have known
for quite some time.
We are the same, but you seem new in some ways
at this survival endeavor
eyes of the poet looking for the beauty behind the suffering
I know it, it is real and it is not in the things of the world
and absolutly not in the people of the world,
not in expectations.
But Satori is a gift not easily given.
I drop you off. I pull awayand then I am alone too.
I feel that empty feeling too.
I wish that you wanted me.as I want you.
I wish that you saw me.as I see you
I wish that you got me.as I get you.
I wish that you, feel what I do
the way I haven't in so very long if ever.
So yeah, I cry warm tears
and breathe short empty breaths
with a hollow heart.
remembering what it is to feel.
and if you are alone at home
while I type this
and you still think that no one gets you.
and you still think that no one understands
and you still think that no one loves you
still think that existence is less than just.
and you are crying too,
and you are there
and I am here
then you are right, terribly right.
and it is far far worse and alone,
than I ever imagined it could be
and that is saying a lot.
while I sleep the sleep
of the damned.

2006-12-19T17:30:00.000-06:00

11/27/2006

small poems..?

Leaves?
like spent plum years fall,
I fall I love the plum leaves.
I love the Autumn love.
I love your smile.

Do you like entertainment?
do you like the intellect
so sorely lacking
everywhere you turn,
spin, reverse throttle?
am I not like clashing symbols?
take what you can of me
be what you can in me.
I want nothing
I am nothing
and your reflection must seem
bright and shiny in my worn smooth soul.

leave me only dignity
that is my request
I demand nothing from
anyone
asking only this.

You
dishevel me
with
your shiny
shiny shiny
eyes.

Feelings are not
the reality of consequence.
a mistake that nearly everyone makes
at some point.
reality of consequence is truth, pragmatic
or otherwise.
feelings are merely fuel
not directions.
I may love you like
a lovely waterfall loves gravity
but I am simply a humble cosmic spirit
taking only what
the universe makes available
having learned the harsh folly
of asking more.
I am only
the product this night of
much Merlot
swishy wishes
and years of love gone bad.
It's enough to make a man explode
if there was enough flesh left to
even sing
a tiny little tune.
in unison.

for you,
you deserved a better blog
perhaps
but this is all I have tonight
the drink,
the fact that that my heart has
misshaped itself like and injured trapezoid
of late.
all that.
look,
you've had some damn fine poems.
and who knows what words the future conjures
tepid field mice
banging bitter booming bells.
piercing butter knives
but sleep
and dreams await.
goodnight.

dammit I almost said
that one thing.

2006-12-19T17:29:00.000-06:00

Wednesday 22/11/2006

Romancing The Muse

There is this talk about the muse
as if it were some invisible
mythic creature
from tales of ancient Greek.
All these old characters are
archetype though,
allegory, metaphor for the real world.
That's why these enduring images
have been invoked by
poets, artist, philosophers
psychologist, scientist.
writers and thinkers of all persuasions
for 2 thousand plus years.

The muse, you see
is an actual living breathing person.
Someone you meet that
has a certain
inexplicably proufoundly deep
effect on you
knowingly or unknowingly,
eliciting certain feelings
reactions, ideas,
inspiring new depths
of creative energy
that can become catalyst for
your most powerful work.

It's always about the human condition
what drives us upward and
what drags us down.

The problem with romancing the muse
though, is that just like the
classic mythic type,
with the human type
your muse is rarely just for you
and that same muse that inspires
you, also inspires others.

This generally means
that the muse inspiring you
is usually inspiring at least
5 other guys a well,
and who's strong enough
for that?

It's all there
nothing new
under the sky
beneath the setting sun..

2006-12-19T17:27:00.000-06:00

Friday 17/11/2006

what they do

It must be that
when one has reached a point
that a finely shaped female ass
can be gazed upon
and NOT feel
primal urges from deep inside
that trigger needs
wants
desires to possess
and conquer
that could easily lead to
foolhardiness
rash behavior
bold words
and such.

It would be at this point
that one has finally gained
some sense of dignity
self-respect
control
inner peace and
equanimity.

I am not there,
no, I am not there
and I sometimes fear
that I may
never be there.

2006-12-19T17:21:00.000-06:00

Wednesday 15/11/2006

Darkness 3

I'm reminded
of this one snowy snowy late night
in Denver Colorado.
It was cold as shit
and I had just lost everything,
absolutely everything a man could lose.
It was cold and
the open mic had ended
and there were these young poets
milling about everywhere
outside the café
and I was sitting
on this wooden bus stop bench
crying and crying and crying,
and the tears were practically frozen on my face.
Like I say, I had lost everything
I was alone and
everyone I had every known was far away.
Even the one person I knew in the city
was miles away.
There were frozen and unfamiliar streets
and the tears would go on for days and weeks.
I'm just reminded of it that's all.

1:14 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Darkness 2

When I drink too much,
sometimes my melancholia comes out.
It's a melancholia
that I usually keep buried
deep deep inside.

I know,
you're thinking hey,
don't drink so much.
Fuck you
anyway though.

Somebody just take hold
of me for a bit ok?
Or forever
or something.

It's empty here
in Samsara.

1:11 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

darkness 1

I
possess a darkness
that not a goddam one of you
can possibly
possibly
understand.

An aloneness
that defies anything
you can ever comprehend.

To be a poet
a real and breathing
wanting breaking
seeking knowing
convention defying
poet
on a late late drunk
drunken drunk
late night
none none
none of you
can possibly
know.

2006-12-19T17:19:00.000-06:00

11/15/2006

If You Don't See a Boat, There's No Boat

Quite a few years back, I had this drinking buddy and he was a few years older than me, not that years mean much, but in terms of life, the real type of life that we the poets must struggle through bad jobs, and women and such, he was far more experienced a gentleman. I had spent my slowly waning youth in subculture, to his delight, experiencing wild eyed beauties and blatant Nihilism through my eyes, he shared actual real world survival mechanism with me. See, the trick is maintaining dignity even in the worst of times Something he for the most part succeeded at. People are always trying to nickel and dime you. Woman, even the best and most beautiful, are fickle and capable of levels of apathy that we men are unable to imaging until we actually face it. The jobs, they are the worst, they always want more than they give, and they never ever, have your best interest at heart, only that of the job. There is one person, and one person only that is there to look out for you. and that is yourself. Not your wife. Not the boss. Not your priest. Not even your buddies. So whatever happens, never ever let them take away your dignity. Never let them take away your hope. Never let them make you into anything other than a decent person. Hold on to that. Keep doing whatever you can. Let no one hold you down. These aren't his words, not exactly they are mine, but its what he taught me. And yeah, I've fucked shit up quite a few times since then. Lost my dignity, my self-respect, my purpose on several occasions, just like he has. Beset by those relentless forces. But I always found it again Always drag myself up again somehow. each time, and even though he hasn't been around in quite a few years It's still there His words still get me through. And it's not cynicism. It's not jaded. Nothing like that. It's just necessary up against the things we face. It's survival, and I learned it from a survivor It's all I have to get me through sometimes and I love him for it.

2006-12-19T17:17:00.000-06:00

Monday 13/11/2006

Breakroom Love Advice

It's rough in the cubicle
hungover after
a late night and
a day in the gym, so
I get up to wash my face
and to the break room for a
Diet Dr Pepper and small bag
of Andy Capp Hot Fries.

Two dudes are eating lunch
while discussing that faithful topic
the female.

One says to the other,
"Well, if you really care about her,
and you think that there's something
meaningful there, all you can do
is pray about it, and she
will come to you if
it is in the lords plan,
regardless of what you do
or don't do"

The idea being I suppose
that God almighty
is the ultimate dating service
and that your action, inaction
boldness, foolishness, cleverness
all of it, means nothing.

I bend down to retrieve my soda
and feel a slight but familiar pain
in my gut, and know
it's not from the previous days crunches
it's not from the previous night's liquor
no, it's the slight abiding pain of
every single female I've every felt
that longing desire for
that these gentlemen are discussing.

Silly break room dudes,
there is no God
to hear your prayers,
no fate to fall back upon.
Only the fickle, capricious,
and sometimes cruel
heart
of the female.
Along with
whatever little wisdom
your life may have brought you,
and sheer dumb luck.

That's all there is.
I wish him the best.
Hell,
I wish me the best
as well.

48 Min - 11/13/2006

2006-12-19T17:13:00.000-06:00

Waking up I think of you,
longing to wake beside you entangled,
already connected.
Oh, how I would whisper a few sweet words,
caress the hair above your ear
and kiss you gently upon the mouth.
It's a pure desire.
I want that morning still, in dusk light slight
pull back, smiling going down for the fifth.

That's what I like, to devour a woman
of taste and beauty drinking in your essence
like a starving desert madman spinning in surreal epiphany
coming with time and desire
going with the flow
arriving at time stand-still moments flashed
where tiny moist final kisses hang in suddenly silent air.
My dreams of you are like razor sharp Japanese wind chimes
a million gasps for air sliced atoms in the morning
like pictures in the sky.
I just feel, it's just a feeling
that if I could gently hold you, large arms wrapped
for 30 seconds
for 90 seconds
for 180 seconds
for 360 seconds
for 720 seconds
for 1440 seconds
for 2880 seconds
that somehow
no excruciating words would be necessary
and the time would come.
I could exhale
and release this breath
that I've been holding in my dreams.

tiny pretty square faces

2006-12-19T17:08:00.000-06:00

Sunday 11/12/2006

Looking through the bulletins
for something
I see the pretty face of
a female that I made out with
with zeal and passion in the car,
and at the bar
quite some time ago.
Nice,
nice memory
and then I see another
right above her
whoa, hot also, very nice
She was something
like a train
damn..
scroll through
see a third.
like sweet candy
It hits me,
I've had some damn good luck,
despite it all.
Nothing to fill me up
no lasting truth
no one to love,
but still, those small square pictures
tell a tale that
would make anyone smile.
It was enough to keep it going.
except lately though several months I suppose
I seem to have grown a vagina.
Out of nowhere.
Distressing really.
I don't know,I guess
I just hit this point where
I was ready for the other
you know
the real face
and not the tiny square one.
except the problem being
it seems like
I'm the only one.

I hope that you like me...

2006-12-19T17:01:00.000-06:00

Saturday 11/12/2006

I really want you to like me,
but I guess I'm kind of scared
sometimes to show the whole thing.
See the thing is, this guy you see
kind of charming, laughing
having good time
confident in writing
and up on the mic
the guy who takes you around everywhere
and seems to have hundreds of friends
that seem to love him
maybe even look up to him
seek his input.
What I'm saying is
that yes…
this is me
I can be powerful and confident
socially
artistically
all that
It's real, most of the time
no falsity here.
But the thing is,
that's not the whole picture.
There are some real flaws too.
Other times..
I can fall into these boughts of melancholia
or wacky thinking benges.
Especially during my creative periods
when my poet senses are opened wide.
I can get abstract and a little weird
and sometimes all this inside stuff comes bubbling up
fears, insecurities, frustrations, regret, sadness
really the whole ugly range of human emotion,
weakness, and frailty.
I'm not terribly fond of it all
but it is me
a part of me
and I have to embrace it
and I need anyone close to me in my life
in whatever capacity
to embrace it
or at the very least accept it
and give me space when needed.
Although to be honest I do have
plenty of space in my life already
so I kind of prefer the embracing
and the being there.
Anyhow, that's it…
It's really no big deal
I'm actually a pretty mature,
reasonable and experienced
fellow
I've got good filters.
So I'm usually pretty self-contained
not much of a problem
just a little weird and moody
at times,
that's me.
I hope you like me.
No seriously,
I really hope that you like me.

Post Modern Orphic Hymn (? late Oct? 06)

2006-12-02T11:32:00.000-06:00

French fry forearm
tendons.
Contract. Release.
Tambourine plink ping breathing
Diet soda can. Big gestures
When I lean back, clad black at
the stroke of midnight arms
falling palms down facing. Plink
again. Neck roll concentric crackling
like footsteps on shattered glass.
All for the world.
All for the world I think,
as some wild June thunder busts it up.
See that puff of smoke that rises there as I exhale thusly?
Oh, its all full of French Canadian Clown Music
entangled in fine gravel dusk memories.
where we stood inside the time stream.
Watch it float up and away taking lost spectacle
elsewhere. shredded memories no good when
the tall grass has known death and resurrection
time and again since the slipping away
of wishes, days, and clock tics.
A can song fades to black..
Elysian Mysteries thunder as embodiment
Its different to be me.
Nothing anyone
would understand.

2006-12-01T23:20:00.000-06:00

Friday 10/11/2006

2 kinds of suffering

Look, the main problem
with being pathologically existential is
these freaken moments of terror.
See, most people, they suffer because of attachment
because love is painful, desire is consuming
humans are dishonest and such.
It's like being on fire all the time in a very real way.

The pathologically existential though
at least in those dark moments,
suffer for the exact opposite reason.
Not attaching too much meaning
to the goings on of the world,
but rather that every single thing in existence
loses all meaning whatsoever.
All processes, all phenomena, all beings, all views
Seem all at once perfectly empty and void
lacking in any meaning, purpose or truth.
Unless you've somehow managed
to make peace with this in some larger fashion,
some clever enlightenment
It can actually be absolutely terrifying…

which is odd because even terror
should be empty
perhaps the proper word is nullifying.

Usually when faced with such moments
one must try to engage themselves once again
as quickly as possible
into worldly attachments,
despite the known suffering there.
I suppose the trick to surviving it all
at least for those of us who can't seem to transcend it
(hence the pathology aspect)
is the balancing act.
attachment detachment
back and forth
seeking an acceptable level of both
manifesting inside any given moment.

It's not as easy as it sounds.

11:53 PM - 5 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

The God Process, or stop your silly prayers ( 10/11/2006)

Look I have to tell you, you lovers of God
the anthropomorphic type in particular
that there is absolutely no reasonable rational,
no compelling evidence, no logic
To support the existence of your mystic mythic
daddy in the sky archetype.
It's a very low level belief,
mythic magic I believe is the term,
and it's entire premise and anything
it might actually offer as far as
real meaning to the human condition
is silly and childlike.

Don't get me wrong, I would love to believe.
I tried to for many years as a young man,
that would be great, some all powerful
loving invisible creator that's on your side
that is going to step in and make things like
totally all better at some unspecified nebulous point
down the line. Nice idea sure, but hardly
responsible or mature thinking.

Anyway, the universe is anything but friendly and loving
It's full of suffering, separation, longing and tragedy.
Well, from a strictly materialist view,
the universe is actually pretty morally neutral,
and we are projecting value to random events,
various chemical interactions and quantum processes.
But assuming you do have a spiritual bent
and assign certain a priori values to existence,
then your God if he existed wouldn't in fact be very loving at all,
no he would in fact be a big stupid cruel selfish
torturing bullying asshole.
I mean imagine having the power to ease all suffering
and simply refusing to exercise it,
choosing rather to go with some dodgy long term strategy
involving original sin, breaking the will of your pets,
and something about eternities burning in hell,
all very nasty and spiteful stuff.

There is however one idea that might explain
the existence of GOD.
Evolution
on all levels, systems of all types, show
the tendency for all systems, all entities all phenomena
to evolve toward increasing complexity
So, imagine taking the largest possible view,
that someday somehow the entirety of all existence
reaches a maximum point of evolution
and the entirety of the universe having reached
ultimate complexity has become one single entity
encompassing everything there ever was.
I say ever was, because obviously at some point
concepts of linear time and space would lose meaning.
The idea here is kind of beautiful actually,
that each and everyone of us in fact every facet of reality,
is actually part of one big cosmic process of enlightenment
all evolving together into beautiful oneness,
at the very pinnacle creating a being
who is the combined essence of everything that ever was.
This would be God. All knowing, all encompassing
beyond all duality in the only way it would ever be possible
to be beyond duality by being everything.
All of us. We are God in the making,
all living and unliving things.
ALL things in fact.

There is one rub here though,
God in the end becoming everything,
It's own beginning, it's own middle,
the whole process wouldn't exactly exist
either inside or outside linear time
But rather encompass both.
And the suffering that we face,
is in fact the process itself
The growth of the universe, the infancy of God
The crashing of dualities in the violent slow process
of becoming one.

This means, that in the end, it just is what it is.
Necessary. Just that.
God couldn't intervene in the affairs of
we time trapped singular beings any more than
you could intervene in your own childhood,
were you To suddenly develop time travel,
without destroying who you are today.
In this view. God is no longer a cruel, rule making task master
that ignores suffering, but from our perspective,
is simply god in the making
that is suffering in itself.
The enlightenment machine.
Samsara and Nirvana equally necessary for the outcome,
no end result, no beginning spark,
the whole of existence looping back in upon itself
within in the siren song of infinity, the music of the spheres.

So.. You want to love God?
then simply love all existence.
But… I wouldn't try pleading for salvation
Praying for intervention in the lotto
or keeping the tire from going flat.
Asking for your sports team to win
or your side in a war
is all pretty futile.
Some of you might think that this is a God that is pretty impotent then,
unable to grant your wishes,
and in some respect you would be right.
But mostly you would be wrong,
as things are simply what they are, in the end anyhow,
despite your wishes
and this all encompassing god idea, would actually be
well, everything that there is,
and that's a pretty big deal.

11:16 PM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

No Salvation in All Those Faces (10/11/2006)

I understand suffering and the alienation
of existing between the moments yet
somehow I've never quite possessed
that youthful naiveté
that leads one to believe that
salvation or even brief respite lies
in some group of friends
some social network or another.

It made me different than most.

Don't get me wrong
I've had years and years of social roles to play
this scene that scene
endlessly it seems
possibly hundreds of friends over the years,
But somehow I always
not so deep down knew
that these people were not my salvation
that really, all these eyes and ears and fingertips
expressed opinions and mouths and choices
and speech
were way more the problem
than any type of solution
not that there weren't some great ones along the way
ones to learn from
ones to enjoy and such
but there is no solace
never ever ever in this.
Ever.

I was always more inclined to believe
that some truth was to be found rather
in love
real true love
a troubadour type ideal really
even long before I knew what Troubadours were.
of course this quest itself has proven tricky
and fraught with pitfalls
but that is another story entirely.

10:23 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

--I Think of You--Tuesday 11/7/2006

2006-12-01T23:13:00.000-06:00

Thinking of you
a bumblebee buzzes past my ear
a squirrel scampers across my path
leaves crinkle
an airplane trails aslant the sky.

It occurs to me while exhaling,
that all my hopes and dreams
are rough echoes,
the stuff of mad hauntings.

And that you are like molten mercury
dripping sunlight piano music in the
dark void between the lights.

We are the same, and we are different
I simply wish with all the might
of a poem
that you might do
what you do
while being you
with me.

3:00 PM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Sexiest of People.--Friday 11/3/2006

2006-12-01T23:09:00.000-06:00

Sometimes the very
sexiest of people are just sitting there,
not doing, or trying to be
anything at all.

For instance, in a chair
speaking thinking listening
maybe the eyes scrunch a little
while undertaking some task
and they have a face that sits
upon this neck which connects
to this body and it just does what it does
just the right way without pretension
or self-consciousness.
there are legs, they flow down
shaped just so, bending at the proper place
leading to feet.

It's all perfectly normal.
And their brain is working
they are doing something
and being something
creating something
speaking in a voice that
is exactly how a voice should be.
a good voice.
It's just right there,
the way it is,
the perfect sexy beautiful human picture.

And in these moments
confronted with such things
I just try to keep it going
say the usual stuff
ignore all the chattering voices inside
forget about the way
the electrons in the air are
doing all this weird shit.
Mostly awestruck,
I just wonder if this,
the subject of my attention
is fully aware of her casual effect,
the recreation of seconds she creates,
and if I will ever, ever,
actually speak such words aloud.

11:50 AM - 6 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Monday 10/30/2006-Your Vagina is Not Made of Gold

2006-12-01T23:03:00.000-06:00

To some of you ladies,
I hate to break it to you
but,not a goddam one of you
has a vagina made of gold.
No, seriously
somewhere along the line
you may have gotten the mistaken
notion, that somehow yours was, that
it was somehow different or better
than all of the thousands
or millionsof others.
Get over it.

Well, certainly there is different packaging
but even with thatit's really no big deal.
So you have nicer curves here or there
than some
Ok,that makes you interesting for about
15 minutes
24 hours at best.

But this whole thing
about the gentlemen
needing to jump through hoops
and pass various trials and such
just to get some time at
your golden vagina,it's tiresomereally,
when most of you are vapid empty whores
at best.
It may get you somewhere
but, its not going to get you far.

Men that fall for your act,
will for the most part be
inexperienced
ignorant
shallow
self-serving
lonely
brutish or
cruel.
Good Luck with that.

As for me,
this falsity means very little.
If there is enough there
to generate any interaction between us at all,
You won't be the only one evaluating.
See, I don't need you
or you golden vagina.
If I'm going to seek any type
of female companion,
I need a whole lot going on
in the heart,
in the brain
and in all the invisible places
that make up a real
living breathing human being.
and separates us
from the mannequins
no tests
no trials
no hoops
no back flips
the only thing you'll get from me
is honesty
respect
humanity,
and the pleasureof getting to know what I
am all about,
if you are interested.

that is,
if you are way more
than your vagina
and I am
way more than
just another potential
patsy.
or a player in your game.

Poem About A Female Poet--(10/25?)

2006-12-01T23:00:00.000-06:00

It offends my sensibilities a bit
I suppose,
thinking of her alone.
(although I'm sure she doesn't have to be)
Sitting alone
Sleeping alone
Eating alone
Watching television alone
Driving in her car alone
Typing out poems alone.

It seems a travesty considering
that there is
so much more to her
than most.

She is beautiful without being vain.
Intelligent without being haughty.
Stylish without being shallow.
Passionate without being unmanageable
Soft spoken without being shy.
Responsible without being tedious
Capable without being overbearing.
Worldly without being cynical.
Confident without being aggressive.
Deep without being sullen
Talented without being ego driven.

A very fine woman.
Oh yes,
and the other thing;
She can write,
I mean really write.
Her poems grab you
with fire and beauty and guts.
Revealing and honest and sharp.
Sometimes taking your breath
or making the heart skip.
It's something.

I suppose that's why thinking of her alone
seems unjust.

I mean,
I'm no accomplisher of great things
no mover of mountains
shaper of destinies.
I get some good lines down sometimes
and that's about it.
But that,
that I could do,
make that female poet not alone
I could do that
That would be easy.
Like dancing through an orchard.
singing in the shower
whistling along
eating a slice of pie, or
smiling at the moon.

Yes,
that I could do,
given opportunity.
That I could surely do
oh yes,
yes yes yes yes yes.

6:23 AM - 11 Comments - 22 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

I do remember --Friday 10/27/2006

2006-12-01T22:58:00.000-06:00

Just the other day,
I recieve an email from a female
that I have not seen in many
many years.
she askes;
"Hey, do you remember me?"
which I thought was rather odd
considering
that age the age of 17,
she was the first female to
suck my cock.
(I wasn't sure how to respond.)
So yeah,
I do remember,
and any man alive
that says
that they don't remember
that woman
from their past,
is a fucking
liar.

unsuitable suitors-Monday 10/23/2006

2006-12-01T22:54:00.000-06:00

She tells me of many men who pursue her.
"ah, many suitors " I say
She laughs, "Yes, but all unsuitable."
"unsuitable suitors" I quip,
we both laugh.

I picture her then
A tattooed pierced post-modern Penelope
in pre-fab Ithaca.
Weaving and unweaving her tapestry
Deconstructing the self as a ploy of sorts
buying time.
Steadfast, single minded, uncreated.
coming to believe that Odysseus
lost Odysseus,
was never more than a dream.

She smiles and blinks
and kisses me with a rare passion.
Sure, I am the lost warrior from upon unkind seas
deadly islands and no win scenarios.
True. But I'm not sure
I'll ever be anyone's returning hero ever again.
A kind and broken one perhaps
but likely unsuitable
all the same.

6:06 PM - 3 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

The Illusion of the Linear---- Wednesday 10/11/2006

2006-12-01T22:51:00.000-06:00

Frayed quantum ribbons freefall backward
connecting like so much spiritual filament
fleeting moments tiny worlds unseen pathways
each entirety, self-contained each entity
corporeal only insomuch as a journey casting
pale shadows of solidity can be
considered substance.

Sentience, only a series of perceived changes
in direction. Grasping backwards
creates the past. Time is only space.
in very tiny increments,
but only movement, one direction or the other.
The rest is evolutionary biology
adaptations superimposed upon particles
and waves existing merely to facilitate functionality.

All souls, are lost souls.
Immortality, and the illusion of the linear.
Consciousness, cherished self-awareness
holy of holies all this crazy pride and
struggle is no more than connected dots,
flapping broken temporal strings
blowing backwards in ionic voids.

no less than the madness of the divine.

Fleeting Moments Proceed Our Actions -Monday 10/9/2006

2006-12-01T22:45:00.000-06:00

The suffering of the single second,
the solitary nature of moments,
this is what causes difficulty
makes it all something that must be endured.
It's not the happenings, themselves
although we might think that.
It's not the oh so aloneness
acerbic disappointment grinding betrayal.
Not who you want and don't want.
The having and not having.

It's just that every love loved
dream dreamed
idea idealized
desire desired
reason reasoned
want wanted and
action put in action.
takes place in a single moment in time.

Then we are thrust forward through
the necessity of consciousness alone,
starting over in the next. living
every single moment solitary, burning up,
fleeting, always clinging fast to the moment before.
We torture ourselves. Not allowing simple manifestation.
Seeking always to capture possess,
manipulate and own, people, objects, events,
ideas emotions and thoughts.
Perceived phenomena
already passing as we grasp at them.

Sometimes, I get there
breathing in and out Spiritus Mundi,
where none of it matters
the hurting stops
All value becomes relative.
All truth partial.
All ideas constructs.
This is love.
This is silence of mind.
This is the other side.
There is only one path
Moments can not be rewound.
Time can not be stopped.
Events can not be undone.
Choices can not be changed.
No, nothing sideways
No over it No around it
No shortcuts.
Suffering must be embraced,
experienced. lived and understood.
Only by immersing oneself in the suffering
of every single second. grabbing it
without hesitation or mercy and loving it
the way a fire loves
only then does the suffering cease to burn
in each moment and the moments themselves
melt away into the conflagration
of that which simply is.

I will love easy.
grasp easy
let go easy.
breathe easy
take it easy.
Be free of all the things that came before
and live without fear of that which is coming next.
It's the only way, here among all the things
that are really less than they seem..

Mad Charm Ensuing-Friday 10/6/2006

2006-12-01T22:42:00.000-06:00

The room was loud
poets shouting into the mic
to be heard over the swirling crowd,
Merlot sipped and clinked.
smoky whiskey smiles.
verse running away deep into the night.

Resting upon the
devastatingly beautiful
young poet chick to my right.
Resting upon the
astonishingly beautiful
young poet chick to my left.

The beauty of it
of them
of the instant like a thousand thousand
golden moon beams running crazy mad.
dreaming king of shining heavens
while waterfalls spill upon the dust.

Oh yes, my friends that's where I like it
right there. living deep
cracked open and exposed
exploding inside moments
such as those.

7:31 PM - 5 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

The Devil and Poeticus-Wednesday 10/4/2006

2006-12-01T22:40:00.000-06:00

The devil lives in mustard spots

ink blots

tic click clock tocks.

helicopter slow-motion time delay

static belay.

blind destiny

inhumanity

is evil as evil was evil,

redemption like a buzz saw

stray cat screetch scratch claw.

the round a bout.

secrets out.
The devil lives in men

in their eyes

shorn finger nails

Rubella breath

tubular glances

mating dances

fallout doubt

squeeze and shout.

The devil is in every man

who is not like me.

small, while I am large.

quiet, while I am loud.

opportunistic, while I am honor bound.

dark, while I am light.

common, while I am peculiar.

clad in timely regular garb,

looking like an asshole

brims reversed.

well rehearsed.

While I in twisted mannerism am

clad as circus sideshow Errol Flynn

urban commando

a monkey's uncle

anachronism disheveled.

The devil,

he is you. the way you walk.

ostrich feathers.

burnt up anus

concrete tunnel laughter

faster disaster.

I don't dig it,

golden and alone

in the shining city.

devils burning in broken worlds.

Outside of time.

reasons for an epic suicide- Wednesday 9/27/2006

2006-12-01T22:28:00.000-06:00

pushed buttons
open windows
shadows that embrace
ill-shaped torsos
back pocket circles.
silent red brick walls.
Cumulous Christ.
shards of paper on December grass.
unmoving doorknobs.
empty closets
paper towels wafting to the ground.
hands on clocks.
cracked dashboards
Et spiritus sanctum
Elliot Ness
Byzantine poets
rats and roaches
run over cats
dead dogs
stolen cars
bags of linen.
candles in smokey rooms
hot air balloons.
spray painted light bulbs.
harbinger Moons.
Swiss Avenue.
puppy, bunny, cat
South African girls.
shards of Glass.
alienation.
The Kansas Tollway
one armed omens
smiling faces bursting from red darkness.
Black Justice.
black and white photos.
a dozen roses.
Thanksgiving night.
needles and spoons.
thirty six, thirty seven, thirty eight
green eyes.
lotion massages
wax teeth.
Cowboy Jim.
passing notes
rites of passage.
Oprah Winfrey
vagina vagina vagina
tortured mannequins
Cul- De- Sacs.
Pneumonia
Patchouli
guys named Jeff
Black Septembers
Crash Rescue
went calling wildfire
the milk bar
Cervix Couch
touch screen data collection devices.
this sweet child madness
apple cinnamon
U haul Trucks
pornographic videos
Café Brazil
yellow suns
Star Bellied Sneeches
just before words come out
the coming Apocalypse
When Harry Meet Sally
Who Moved My Cheese
Bermuda grass
paper Acid
lung cancer
Magic Valley
the sincerity of strippers.
El Pluribus unim
The Aniki
The Illuminati
North Carolina
blowjobs in the woods
dyed red hair
French maid outfits
blackberry wine
ex husbands
ex wives
electric eels
The code of the Samurai
tears are delightful
cigar burns
sexy Jeeps
un excitement
the gap between them
ball caps
French Canadian Circus
black birds and brown birds
the book in the underwear drawer
the best one night stand ever
werewolf faces
project management.
all you can eat buffets
American Pie
strategic alliances
swimming pool penetration
broken promises
green shirts
family Christmas
Colic babies
wooden floors
Batman costumes
shaving our heads
Highway Sixty Seven
broken security badges
shopping carts and trees
silver heroes
walk in closets
climbing through windows
home networking
boiled Marijuana
conspiracy websites
Jasmine and Lavender
credit card debt
plaid shirts
red tile
horses in fountains
under the freeway
stabbing silent air
1991
flat tire on the highway
madhouse window ledges
female teardrops
all the Heathers
guys names Lyle
a punch in the head
lesbians
Bob Crain movies
tiny arms
eyes that blink
cigarette cherries
dreaming blue turtles
lunches
the wrong kind of boots
back up diskettes
throat cancer
too much lip gloss
dead in a jail cell
thunder stick
fat grams
Molly Mc butter
the Viper
Selective singles
sleep walking short shorts
yellow striped shirts
Jimbo
girls who smoke cigarettes
unkind habits
reasoned betrayal
uniform lockers
too many vaginas
The right of it
The wrong of it
Gun butts
Police chiefs
Pills
Therapists
process servers
fleeting moments
a waisted mouthful
the word goodbye
nothing anyhow poor dear
happy birthdays
swing sets
Ho Che Min
feline windchimes
shitty diapers
the last time in the street
unreturned keys
bamboo poles
a rage that knows no right or wrong
the days
the nights
the weeks
the years
the notions
the dead ones
the happy ones
the cruel ones
the alone ones
the terrible terrible terrible one
sall the moments
all the moments
never coming back.

grinding moments between-Friday 9/22/2006

2006-12-01T22:25:00.000-06:00

These dreary words you sputter
snort and wheeze like
retrograde asphalt they
sting like forever dead fish
dropped butter dish
silent mother scream
aerosol exploding vagabond bastard
one-armed harbinger
slippery sidewalk ripped off
into vaseline sky like
backwards lightning.

Anyhow, forever is just a season,
and it all goes the way of
dodgy dreams where gaping holes
lead to far off places.

Dusty books
decapitated ducks
and Spring.

Starving Quantum Want - 9/22/2006

2006-12-01T22:22:00.000-06:00

A mustard stench
that condemns every
passion
spit
from torn lonesome breaths
and bits.
Shit and shame
Disaster and deliverance.
Withering Jupiter razor
shady echoes.
Someone come
and
unforsake me
like ice
and
ice like
things.

all the shit we put into it- Tuesday 9/12/2006

2006-12-01T22:16:00.000-06:00

Sometimes smoking cheap cigars and sipping cheap merlot,
alone in some corner at the bar,
I still think about you and can't help but
fixate somewhat on the whole thing
and where it all went wrong.

Yeah, there's the good times
like making love night after night under spray painted light bulbs
with that window unit humming and hanging there remaking the air
that we came together in. We laughed and fucked and never let go
of one another and talked in hushed tones about one hundred million things,
and it was as though we lived on the edge of it all,
and that it would always be like that, apart from the world, together, no one else,
doing it all and making it happen.

In some agendas though the gods are surreptitious,
cold quiet fertile rooms never more than Harvest moons.
Spilling life into you. Pulling life from out of you.
One time. Two times. Three times.

What are all these things we cling to?
This madness, this linear nightmare of crashing moments
racing fate, and rotted ideas. Cracked and silly promises
Wistful blinks of eyes and belly kisses.
Love like a struck match, like refrigerator scarred doorways.
Like drying dishes. Like time clocks. Like pastel towels.
Like broken telephones. Like poolside. Like rats on wooden floors.
Like lightning storms, Like scorn. Like sperm. Like self-help books.
Like mortgage. Like desperation. Like empty gestures,
repeating words and vacancy eyes.

You were like this. a puff of smoke, a sweet wine.
You were everything there ever possibly was.
You were my guts, my heart, and my balls,
but mostly, you were a hell of a lot of work.
And it was hard work. Without break.
It never got easier, only harder all the time.
Work for it. Work for it. Work for it.
Every breath a demand. Every thought indignation.
Every effort, every word an assertion toward
Self-securing control lacking in honest self-reflection.

With all the thousand things you were.
With all the thousand things you could have been.
You never ever could let go of those things that made you
so much less than what you were.
Something special.
Something actually worth all that work.
Big build up, Big let down.
In the end you failed yourself,
but even worse, you failed me.

ticks and tocks. burning clocks

2006-12-01T22:14:00.000-06:00

its these moments.
burning like the trash dump outside of town
burning like the guy being ignored by a woman
burning like the face, the flesh of a thousand nighttimes
burning like the sudden realization that all women are now on Myspace
burning like a little Black Spot on the Sun Today
the same old thing as yesterday..
Burning like the name of another man with your children
Burning like your friends knowing well the same terrible
torrid gaping maw women that you have known
burning like no one understanding.... why things happen...

I am a tiger
I am a corpse
I am a god
I am a beggar..
I am the universe
I am nothing
I am surrounded by love and laughter and joy
I am alone, all all all alone....
polar icecap....death inside the million rebirths
between the top and the bottom alone.
I am a burning fire
I am a puff of smoke..

Monkey Assfuck Jamboree- 9/1/2006

2006-12-01T22:09:00.000-06:00

It's a thousand monkey ass-fuck jamboree.
and I hate it.
my eyes are burned seared from their sockets
and my ears that hear weep tears in their stead.

Goddam, if only to meet one man one man that truly has honor.
That has a standard in conduct, and truth in his heart.
And the female, fucking motherfucker.
A female with class with style with guts but most of all,
with honesty. simple motherfucking honesty.

True there are exceptions few..
Men that value honor interacting with their fellows.
That don't pursue another mans woman surreptitiously.
That won't pursue their comrades former interests especially,
ones that have treated their friend with disrespect.
Men that honor themselves by keeping their fucking mouths shut
about their buddies when they are not around.
Possessing the guts to address them directly,
or to simply keep an honorable silence.

And females, ladies maybe, its hard to tell,
until you dig in there find out what's underneath
but mostly even that ones that have the spark of decency
seem engaged in some entangling post modern tail.

Of course the exceptions are few. Yeah.
It's the culture in decay everybodys doing it.
Decaying.
One cannot expect much, ask much, understandable
but just basic honesty, surely we can manage that
some bottom line decency?
Simple..
Whatever you do...
Do what you say you are going to do,
and if you are going to do something different
say it before you do it. Say it with honesty. Say it with courage.
Even if you behave poorly, simply show honesty in your behavior.
before and after the fact. That is all.

A million maniacs dancing on a burning sack of dogshit.
Vomiting vermin. Snake headed jack-off monsters.
Ugly melting clay footed pretentious liars.
Terrible terrible angry selfish grasping grasping taking laughing
dripping snarl smiling blistering skull drilling whores
Seas and seas of half-dead epileptically orgasming fish-flopping
choking gasping awful depraved terrible heartless dirty whores.

It's enough to make a man weep.
weep until all the blood and bile in his body has drained like pretty death
rainbows into the streets and
every single overwhelming disappointed part of him is gone,
gone, gone, gone.

The Starting of Fires - 8/29/2006

2006-12-01T22:06:00.000-06:00

Stop lighting matches
and flipping them
Into the night sky
Into rivers of blood and laughter
Into jugs of wine
Into virulent temper
Into hot asphalt
Into mythic revision
Into pornographic constellations
Into lovers holding hands.
Into mad-bastard thoughts
trapped in your fingertips
spilling from the brainpan
to fast to type it out.

Stop trying to setfireto such things,
not everything needs
a fireor lava scorched winds.
Not every heart needs cigar burns
self-maliciously twisted into it.
Not every delusion needs dynamite.
Every moment
does not beg conflagration.

Sometimes
a cool wet stabbing icicle open-mouth moaning
girly kiss
is what it takes.
Cool sweet Tundra coldness
to keep it going on.

The entire thing need not be set ablaze
with the regretof one hundred million
burning fools.
Speaking ofburning foolishness
I'm a fucking
supernova.
Dangling
from high noon stillness.

Slouching Toward More Slouching- 8/29/2006

2006-12-01T22:03:00.000-06:00

Time is quicksand
death at the bottom.

The days a quagmire
fixing us in place.
Every second tiny bullets
whizzing by.

We are the hunted.
Hunted by the sum of it.
Serendipities golden bastard-child
conceptual ruptures,
preyof the gods of fancy
and design.
We fall in and out of grace
with a madness
with a predisposition
toward both oblivion
and joy
and tendency for waxy pragmatic revelation.

Claimed in the end
by the forcesof hot pursuit.
Linear tragedy at its finest.

Beauty as a Matter of Serendipity- 8/29/2006

2006-12-01T22:00:00.000-06:00

Beauty is small,
and appears quite suddenly by surprise.
Beauty is warm, and if you surreptitiously place
a palm upon the moist exposed small of her back
for a fleeting moment the sensation will linger
possibly forever.
Beauty talks a lot
and is occasionally silly.
Beauty has tiny searing eyes
that dig in, you cant quite read them
they make you a bit nervous, maybe more than a bit.
Beauty understands impermanence
both instinctively, and from experience.
Beauty takes your hand
pulls you across a crowded room
effortlessly, like a kite in flight.
Beauty makes
obvious advances from random blonds
seem less rousing.
Beauty is
an odd precognitive dream
beforehand
of making love
grocery store goodbyes
and limousines.
Beauty is
a sudden unexpected kiss
that leaves you
fighting tigers
impaled by lightning
somehow slightly afraid
to ask for another.

Look for Him, He Can Not Be Seen- 8/28/2006

2006-12-01T21:57:00.000-06:00

I have this poet buddy
a bit older than I, and
having lived a bit more
he turns to me one evening
and says:
Yeah, I used to run around with David Carradine
back in the day, we were friends
Then shows me the number on his phone.

It pains me to think
what a tiny and uneventful life
I have led
so far away from greatness.

I long to have been born
into a better time
a better place
and to have been to the ends
of the earth and back
with such men.

David Carradine.
David freaken Carradine.
Goddam Im envious.
I can only imagine
The bar fights.
The long conversations
around campfires
smoking a joint.
And the pussy
man,
The pussy must have been
glorious.

Big Thoughts of Tiny Smiles- 8/28/2006

2006-12-01T21:52:00.000-06:00

Actual love is immediate
yet not pressing.
It's nature is not capitalist
seeking not to conquer
invade
succeed
control
profit.

It's all wrong
the way we do things
this inhuman acquisition.

We are beasts.
We destroy one another with
gnawing voids. We compromise the truth
of things by
afflicting ourselves
wholly, upon the alter
of grappling circumstance.

Always the power play.
Always the presentation.
Sometimes, to know any truth
whatsoever,
one must love the strange passing face.
a wordless glance from behind a counter.
a picture on a wall.
a sentence overheard in passing.
a monk or nun.
crying babies
the dead in photographs.
a fading train whistle,

or a lady
that comes to see you once in a while
and is more than, yet only, what she is.
Something different
like a smoking matchstick.
You want to give her everything
but know instinctively
that you should take from her
absolutely nothing.

Those that offer what little they have
willingly
rather than inflicting themselves
upon the crashing momentsare truly blessed.
They have walked through fire
and learned to breathe the smoke.

fifty four silent.- 8/16/2006

2006-12-01T21:46:00.000-06:00

I am rather shrouded in darkness at times,
heart beating like a whisper.
razorblade thoughts.
breath of molten iron.
bee sting guts.

It's a lamp shade sadness.
diffusing the light.

Shrouded in darkness at times,
I watch as cigarette butts
and bottle caps
act out stop-motion claymation morality tales.
And when the baby lamb dies
there is no resurrection
no bloodless return from unknown underworld..

only more intolerable visions.

acts of vengeance.
terrible mannequin people
entangling themselves in one another.

It's ugly.

Yes,
I'm shrouded in darkness at times
because darkness
sad darkness
dark sanctuary
is the only safe place
from all of you.

And your
thousand thousand
feet of clay.

2006-11-08T23:43:00.000-06:00

2006-10-16T17:59:00.000-05:00

Whatever it takes

The female, in the cubicle across
was on a cell phone
speaking to one of her
associates, presumably, also
a female.
She could be heard to say the following:
"You have to make him
do what he needs to do,
do whatever it takes
threaten him
trick him
manipulate him,
whatever it takes
or he may never
get it together.
Some men are just like that.
You have to take control.
to get them to do
what they need to do?"

Presumably,
she was talking to the associate
about a male companion.

I feel pretty certain,
that this view was once held.
by my ex wife.

In fact, she may have had this
same telephone conversation once.

In my mind, I can almost remember
overhearing it,
but by that point, having already been trained
not to listen
not to think
and not to contradict
the logic of these assertions.

This conditioning you see,
was arrived at through
a long ongoing arduous process
of "whatever it takes."

A process that could defeat
even a beast such as myself.
Leaving me, many years later,
with only a glimmer of a hope
that perhaps there are minds
that do not hold views such as these,
somewhere.
Barely a dream really.

However, as for this
unfortunate gentleman,
unknowing subject of said
telephone conversation
well, he was beyond my help.
Poor bastard.

2006-10-16T17:19:00.000-05:00

never goes on a bit longer ...

Obsolescence.
That's the word
that the buzzing makes
If you speed it up
manipulate the sound
and scorch the very air
around it
with flames of regret.
Obsolescence.
Yeah,
there it is
buzzing and pulsing
like a children's song.
In and out
of the
birth and
death.
of tiny
intolerable
moments.

2006-10-16T15:46:00.000-05:00

Bring it on Home

Even touching lips like
one thousand beautiful blaring trumpets.
doesnt play the songchurning about
inside the empty spaces.
Its a chorus of dancing atoms.
A brushfire unbeknownst.
A truth that is nothing more
than laughter on sweaty Summer days

Only forward motion matters.
Slow steps.
Karma like a space suit.
The clang of ritual bells.
A plot always thickening,
thicker and thicker
and thicker
until there is nowhere left to move.
It's all contrivance anyhow,
even in the best of times.

2006-10-16T15:40:00.000-05:00

Unlikely Lotus

It runs all through me.
pours out and into me.
definite deafening quaking rumbling
shaking in every
Samsaric cell.
Held down under it.
Between and inside it.
Immersed in this
terminal living breathing suffering flow.
This fading grasping death of
each and every moment.
This separateness of things.
But there are moments, yes,
for an instant
when I am transformed
by a melody
a glance or a notion.
and sit above it
an unlikely Lotus
Still shaking burning and exploding,
but above with roots below.
Flashes of beauty.
Not apart from suffering
but embraced by suffering in itself.
Now that I think,
is trulybeing alive.
In these instants.
Burned up faded away
and passing by.

2006-07-23T03:19:00.000-05:00

Ok dude seriously, you’re not sleazy or anything
I mean hell, a 34 dollar bar tab for a make out session with a
stranger in the parking lot is justifiable right?
Sure it was late, and you should have been home, but
when those three dames with the whore shirts come
to the door and the one loud one with all the tattoos
can’t get in with the out of state ID, what kind of
gentleman would you be if you didn’t offer to take
them next door to the less strict bar and get them drunk
as shit to help ease their upset-ed- ness over the whole
non letting in ordeal. Alright, so sure you had promised
yourself that there would be no more of this stuff, that you
only wanted to have these make out sessions with females
that you found some commonality with, that you really, really
thought were awesomely worthwhile and all that stuff. You know.
But, this chick was alright, I mean she was nice and all, a little
rowdy, the way she was cursing at passing strangers and all
but that could easily have been your own fault, I mean when
you and you buddies take this chick out for trunk whiskey
warm enough to make Andrew vomit at the end of the night,
well sure, that could make any dame a bit rowdy, I guess,
and she did kiss real nice like, even though you didn’t know her
at all, and you really had been thinking about kissing a lady
that you really really bonded with on several levels other than
just the breasts and the tattoos. I mean, you deserve something nice
right? Someone to like really really talk to and stuff, right? I mean
you’re a really nice guy and stuff, it’ll happen, I mean this is just
that thing, that thing with guys and trunk whiskey and 34 dollars
that you don’t really have to spend on a strangers do, hell it’s just
34 dollars right? That was worth it. She did kiss nice, even though
you had made the promise to only kiss dames that you really really
thought were something, I mean really something. You know,
all that business. Avoid the whole thing. The whole thing that
happens to you when you don’t think it through and just , well
you know. I mean its just 34 dollars right? Hell maybe next time
that girl that was nearly finishing your sentences for you, the one that
you thought seemed to really really get you and all, will let you take
her to the Thai restaurant. Yeah, that would be worth a million
dollars right? I mean parking lot kisses from strangers come cheap,
34 dollars cheap. But an actual feeling of connection to the mind
and spirit of a female, well hell that’s priceless. Seriously priceless.
So relax. You don’t have to justify your own lack of stick- to-it-ness
to yourself. You’re not a sleaze, really, you have the very best of intentions,
sometimes though, when you are jacked up on caffeine, there is
trunk whiskey, and beer specials, I mean hell, you know, your just some
dude trying to make it through another night, and shit happens.
Shit of all kinds both good and bad is always happening. Somewhere,
some times, someplace. It’s like you’re living in a play or
The Twilight Zone, or a coffee commercial, or some shit.

best thing...

2006-07-18T17:33:00.000-05:00

ENJOY!

......and the other litte girl is their cousin......

2006-07-07T19:50:00.000-05:00

Tuesday 04/07/2006

never ending parade of time after time

These are those days and the realization of such things is passing casual torture.
A Forth of July parade in the middle of fun city, by the college campus. Its not so glamorous, this middle America shtick. The people arent all painted up like fire balls and dashing dreams. Like the late nights, in the bar. Where the patrons age at thrice the speed of sanity and mostly disappear. Replaced by, new younger models, this month, last month, future perfect sugar and spice. But the lost man poet is some type of hungry ghost, haunted and haunting, disconnected merely in the act of blinking eyes and considering far too much.
A very young boring thing, probably another conquest of the newest youngest trimmest model, he pains me, despite his beautiful soul. One and then the other, his lack of distinction and the message that his world is not my world... surely he is my opposite... and his success serves to highlight my own solitude. And she, the nothing special one, she said rather peevishly to me. That I have an abrasive personality. I think that she is right. I no longer belong in that world, Actually I never did, it was mere contrivance, surreptitious survival mechanisms. Now, I return to Autumn, a brown leaf.

Morning hang over doesn't seem to matter. The early sun, the coffee shop. All the many children I have given life to that encircle me chanting shamanistic entreaties, attempts to reanimate a fallen hero. Their hero. The only love that keeps life flowing, and pumping, and breath breathing.

The cheerleaders from my old High school are the chunkiest cheerleaders in town. So many Boy scouts. Multi-ethnic big hair Elvis mini bike performers, performing wheelees. The odd clown. Corporate sponsors. The mayor conjures memories of his daughter. At least the Justice league, although out of place.. stirred some mirth. A tragedy it seems, one for which a project costing many dollars was began. It seems that 2 out of three citizens are unable to sing the anthem.. As if waving tiny flags was not enough. And there is plenty of money, and nothing important to spend it on...anyhow. And that antithetic voice... shrill and saccharine....fun city....fun city.....fun city...

I do not belong in the light anymore than the darkness.
See it all breaks down to nothing. Funny how I dug and dug beneath roles and constructs seeking some unchanging core. Funny, that the roles and constructs were all that there was. If I can just burn off this last accumulated suffering...shine through with the light of emptiness that is brighter than any light of illusion. Lose all attachment at last. To dens of iniquity. To smooth cheeks and lips. To the 3rd email from the last one. To the one that held all the cards and dealt me out. To the fire of ego. To adoration rather than love. To purpose other than creating, sustaining and destroying. to strength and youth. To any and all bits of silly fire that burn and sizzle and burn. To goals and projections. Hell, defiantly those.

She is right my Tiger Lilly. The questioner of things late and dark. It is our own actions which bring us solitude. Our own selves alone which make us alone. But are they conscious choice. Reactionary patterns. Periods of growth. Terrible truths dawning. Insights like plucked fruit to be bitten into. Preta patterns. Or empty hollow illusion anyhow. Alone... not alone... happy.. not happy..... alive....awake.....

Does any of it mean anything at all. Quantum tracers. images of the hand... the hand... the hand... the hand... moving through space and time.... the light out.... red bulbs... curtains cracked.... hand... hand ...hand..... then the lights come on....there is only the one hand... the one truth... one thing.... Stuck in concrete stillness. Or maybe the light is conception... convention...cultural presupposition....and the one hand...in the apartment... late at night... young and exploding.... with the lights on.... is no more real.... than the red ones.... the hand...followed by the hand... followed by the hand... all just as real... or all just as unreal.....and even the facial morphing stops mattering after a while....loses impact.... and... everything forward has been illusion... a warning of sorts....one of the hands.... now follow the next.... and the next...reboot. Deus ex machina slicing quantum currents like silly Christmas fairy tales.

Whatever.... I still walk alone.... in the day.... in the night....and it seems more likely all the time... that its going to be that way....for whatever reason... My abrasive personality perhaps. My useless yearnings? Wrong packaging..... wow.... the teacher of metaphysics... the other day... spoke to me of wrong packaging.....the one i'm in... the ones I seek.... why did he say that to me....and why did he whisper it over and over again in my ear like a crazy wild horse rearing high up pasted in a blood red sky.

9:05 PM - 4 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Sunday 02/07/2006

Shit Stained Tampon

I was chatting up this sweet little blond see who turned out way the hell younger than she should have been, all bluster and hyperbole nursing some type of warm brown ale standing in Some strangers backyard in Haltom City Texas and mocking, with this dame, some yahoo with a lit up digital belt buckle. I'd come here a the behest of a young writer from my open mic who had put together a band of sorts with a couple of his cosmic buddies, calling themselves SHIT STAINED TAMPON I like these kids, not so much as musicians, but they were some real cool cats to throw back a couple beers with and talk some shit, something we had done on more than one occasion. Anyhow, the clever blond and I are talking, she has this friend, also a hell of a looker and younger than a cherry blossom. She recognizes me from the Internet, had read me, and remembers some details, kind of nice, she says she saw me through my good buddy, also a rather notorious local poet. She's telling me that he, my buddy, is an online sexual predator, but he is just so damn good at it, so charming, that he is pretty much irresistible About that time, there are shouts for everyone to go inside the house, so we all pack in to this tiny room. I find a seat next to my friend. It seems that whoever owns the house is making some type of stand against the local constabulary, who have come to investigate the party, There seems to be shouting, and cursing and threats. Were just sitting There, in this room with some weird blue and red lighting, and the blond is way over there in the kitchen, and way too young anyhow, and the guy with the band, sitting next to me, seems pretty apathetic. It suddenly occurs to me, that it's Summer visitation for my kids, they are at the house in bed, its nearly 2 am, and that I had promised to take the boys to see the early show of the new Superman film. So I tell my friend that I am leaving, he agrees that I should, I walk toward the door, and some guy with metal teeth that had been involved with this whole affair attempts to bar my path. Shouting really loud.. " HEY MAN! you don't know what your walking into out there! Its the hornets nest man! The hornets nest!" He begs me not to open the door, but I say " Look man.. I gotta go!" So I brush past him... out in front, there are some females trying to negotiate with the coppers, who see me and call me over... One says "Are you drunk?" I say "no, not at all" Another says; "Who are you?" I respond " Me? I'm nobody, just a guy that came to see a band called SHIT STAINED TAMPON, and has a couple of sons that need to see Superman in the morning... I gotta go" They both laugh, and the gruffer one says " Hell, this is the smartest guy I've seen all night" They tell me to hit the road I bow out, and as I'm walking down the block to my car, I think "Shit man, he might be right"

11:47 PM - 6 Comments - 13 Kudos - Add Comment -

Thursday 29/06/2006

shhh! sleepeasy doorwindow codeword nitesparrow

Well.... I've been strangely silent for the entire week... in fact I'm way behind on reading other people's Blogs....

It's been a weird week... I've been alone here all week... which in the times since my marriage ended...and I've been staying with my family...they go visit the psycho Aunt in Lubbock about every 3 months or so....SO.. for some reason.. I usually get a little in my head and weirded out...except for the 3 times... I've actually managed to get the timing down..and have a guest over and see vagina... those times I was anywhere BUT in my head...sadly this time... no joy. Some of the other times... I've gone on these several day writing binges in the crazy solitude... and pushed out some mighty eventful work....but again sadly.this time...nuh-uh..
Well..... MONDAY... JOEPOETS... was so freaken kick ass.... biggest one ever... political theme went well.... I was WAY on it... my peeps were on the ball too... and it even got a bit controversial about a quarter way through....which was damn freaken swell IMHO..... so after... this lovely talented couple.. that have become regulars at many of our reading of late... joined me and a few of the usual suspects... ( sadly no OPAL..work schedule stuff.. frown..) and it became a bit of a bust out....late and lots..... I barely slept...morn job next day was TUFF!!!! so the next nite... I was so freaken out of it... I fell on the floor...ate cheese..and watched 3 movies in a row... that NIKKILILLY had lent me... Kill Bill 1 and 2.. then Donnie Darko... took me till late at night... I got a late start..because of the cheese... and this weird thing where I died all of my clothes black... took a while... anyway it was WAY late... I barely slept...and work the next day was TUFFER!... so WED... TJ and I are going to met for a quick couple... we havent had time to catch up in a while...and it kind of turned into a late night blow out as well....deeyam... barely slept... hung the hell over... and work Thurs... was TUFFERISTIST.
Anyway.. thats it... why I havent been on.. I've been barley coherent for 3 days..all in my head and the whole deal... it very dark in here.... yes... makes you wanna dye your shit... I've barley manages not to shave the head... I still might..
I need to write some poems.... I was on a roll for a couple of weeks...spitting out some fire....wranglin some read beauty and truth.... but it comes and goes... talent... inspiration... in undulating waves.. pulsating...anyone who has even a bit of it should understand this.... there are buildups of energy... and expressions.... seeking periods.. and periods of illumination...hiding times... and balls to the well... something... you know...maybe next week I'll be back on it.... with my razorblade fingertips...
some......
* the female always confounds me... honestly I go back and forth.. erratically every other few weeks... wanting one.. to find quality company.... to wanting absolutely none of it....wanting no part of it... the struggle.. just wanting to be away... then other times..wanting.... but feeling confident..and knowing that only a willingness to interact with the most wonderful is real... then others... just wanting company.. any type.. and justifying the details... some crying...some laughing...shit man... who am I to give advice?
* one was flirting with me last night.... very nice.. low key... just enjoyable convo....I was very reserved... I've been so internal... built the ways back up so high again...and let the self esteem and confidence drop so low... I just felt this befuddled shock at the interaction... it was nice though...OK... didn't bring me back though... I'm still in retreat... still on the downward spiral....
* that "boss" guy... man I despise the word... as if.....its just.... well pressed clothing... fit and trim... perfect hair... probably not crazy at all....and I'm sure he has all the money and plenty of fancy pussy...from what I hear... fine whatever... I just don't care really... Jesus... even his eye that would have once been warpath..all those years gone by... mean nothing to me now...I might as well be from another planet at his point... I have no investment in it all... separate.... from the culture by leaps and bounds.... YET... do I REALLY have to end up in the elevator making small talk... so many freaken times... whose dumb idea of a joke is that?
* all the voices weigh upon me.....I NEVER get used to hearing hers on the machine.... and why does the last one... wan to talk to me? I just can't figure it...she didn't seem to a while back.... whets the point... I ...shit man...
* it would be nice to have a friend... female... that understands the nature of it all... that is not afraid to suffer and does not pretend.. bright... insightful....and a dark soul.... yes I adore the dark sweet souls... dark like me.... at least the half I walk with.... not he light inside.... but every poet yearn for the beauty of the sweet dark soul...... and theres always that light inside... more beautiful than all of the millions that walk with it upon there shiny happy heads whistling through empty dog days and too wide expansive nights....no... the dark one...It just seems like words would not even be necessary... no excuses... explanation....no recriminations... just the holding of a hand and the falling of stars..
* I am well and truly delirious and sleep deprived... why do I do these things... I'm on a mission to write a bit soon...about energies... and quadrants... types... causing things like... insomnia.... and at the other end..anxiety... must write this soon...
and some poems..
goodnight...

11:18 PM - 1 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment -

Sunday 25/06/2006

Universal Remote

The profound nature of my broken existence sometimes escapes meseems barely noticeable sometimes. After all, we all soldier on.. find ways.. Methods move forward... yet some of us, even in this refashioning...remain forever broken..somewhat less than whole.
The new Adam Sandler movie made me cry. It was rather trite really... predictable. I can't tell you why it had such a profound effect.... It seemed to tap into some very very deep feelings..emotions about life the nature of it all. We're talking huge tears... group sessions in the mental hospital tears. Seriously, when I left the theatre the upper chest and shoulders of my tee-shirt were noticeable wet... the tears were dripping down my face for so extended a period. The themes...rather Dickens Christmas Corol-ey really.... Maybe a little Capra Wonderful Life thrown in...guy shown a wasted life... I dunno... but it just kept coming....the alienation... divorce... regret... a great love that slowly dies from neglect and mistakes...separation from children... parents... family.... disappointment... kids growing up missing it all.... it sounds even more trite as I describe it. Yet, somehow it tapped into this deep deep level of profound sadness inside me....so deep I sometimes forget it's even there... but it is... a brokenness. There is are still some huge issues inside it seems some big stuff.... well and truly broken..
Thing is.... when reviewing the story of ones life.... unlike a Happy Gilmore production... Our own stories have no Deus Es Machina... no reset... it only moves in one linear direction...there is no going back... no do overs...it simply has to forever be...what it is...and the end is really the end.

10:39 PM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Spiritus Mundi

oh.... I don't know if it was the poems that I read... the choice of truths revealed, or the banter with the poets... they always... even in the slightest of modes tend to unbury truth. Or if it was the bar.. the night and the sights... the many, many drinks I deemed to become... become as in consume. The unwavering nihlism of fate..

I just feel the need to speak... in terms of nots. of drunken nots... of having seen and saw, nots.
As for the females.... nice.. to be sure.. a bar full of glands and such. Certainly appealing... I am a male.. I am sure of it..despite past indignities and deeply felt scars.

However.. I must say... that I AM NOT.. NOT NOT.. hitting on any females... I am not. I just do not fucking care... not a bit. I don't care how cute you are... or what your charms are... you escapades.. your smile. be it that of the moon... or that of eternity... it's just dust in space. I am NOT will not... DO NOT... care to hit on, flirt with, persuade.... try to be familure with...any female... I just do not want it.. not the game.. not the it... not the facade of it... the missed marks... the bit lips... the gentle compromises.... the mystery surprises... mamaries be damned... It's just an empty endeavor... I am not participating in it as such.... fuck all convention... all convention in the anus of conventionality. Of banality. rationality.

I just do not fucking care a bit anymore. Flirt, blink, titter..whatever... I am unmoved... becasue I will know no emptyness... no longer.. no longer... I am full up and burned like old stogies I have found...

LOOK.... don't get me wrong.... this is a truth bit...an epiphany... is all... not in anyway meant to be anti anyone or anything... just that my dream of being outside of the culture yet still participating in this aspect of it all.... well the foolhardyness suddenly became obvious like a parrot shitting in a drinking fountain. Justification be damned.

I love females. I love the true female heart... not the modern cultural perversion... but the true female heart. I adore my femael friends... and would love to interact with any and all.... but no more....of the less...
SURE... I still have the heart... for company.... quality real company....companionship.... in fact I could argue that ones whose heart has turned away for any thought of the unreal... is ever more ready for the real than any other...

IF there is a female... lurking out there... who befriends me... and at some point has the inclination to share... who says "Poeticus... I get you... no I mean I REALLY REALLY get you... I appreciate where you are coming from... what you do, what you believe... who you are... I get you as an artist...as a man... as a gentleman...and I appreciate your qualities... rationally, emotionally, spiritually... artistically.... Your kindness, respect, honor, cleverness,..I really truly apprecate who and what you are... and want to share myself with you".... now see.... were that to occur....and were this female... to be also someone of admirable qualities.... of spirit, and mind, and heart, and creative soul... then yeah.... yeah yeah yeah.. hell yeah...
but otherwise..... I'm fine... totally motherfucking absolutly completly one hundred percent ...fine! And it feels good to be fine....really good...

SO.... I ask the universe... for clarity...and for wisdom... for grace... let me be fine.... or to find greatness and be more than fine... yes..... absolutly.... but to never.. ever...ever...ever.. be anything LESS than fine again...
My heart is like a Lotus... it is...

3:45 AM - 6 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Thursday 22/06/2006

deus ex meloncholia

I don't know precisely why this spell of melancholia has fallen upon me again. I think it's just the Grind. My lifelong arch windmill. The poets heart is sadly the truth sponge...whereas others are more like porcelain statues, glass sculptures, iron balls, rivets, mud pies, lit matches,...etc.... We... our hearts they soak up... bit by bit... things like futility, falsity, unkindness, and such.....all too ambient in inside the GRIND....

Perhaps...
It is terribly lonely.
Sure, there are the other poets... and I see them on Mondays.. or Saturdays.. Some Tuesdays... the occasional Wednesday or Thursday...some.. I know they feel as I do. I know because it is almost impossible to share my feelings of frustration, hurt, loneliness, demotivation....because they so identify, that their own feelings of such are close to the surface as well.... they also are caught in their own traps... GRINDS... oppressive jobs... failing or frustrating relationships, burdens of loss of one type or another....financial devistation...dashed expectations...that being the case.. all wrapped up in our own...sometimes we can barely hear one another...
Well.... we have our brilliance.... our words.... They are more beautiful and real and true than absolutely anything advertised in the world... they shine and are warm and filling...they get us through...
yet.... mostly after that....maybe a few drinks or something.... we are alone again... in front of keyboards....and it always seems to be getting late...and we type and type... the latest gem.... or just some bit trying to make sense of it......it's always getting late... late at night, too late for regret, late in the day, late in life, sooner or

later, and late as in dead... like dead friends.
Look at it. It's everything. We are culture, and form, and construct, and magic, and myth, and romance, and indignation. We are Beauty and pain and laughter and joy...and exaltation. We are fucking and fighting and crying. We are all that there is. We are immortal. But we live in a world that despises immortality and exalts youth and gratification. Idolizes and epitomizes selfishness and profit above anything and everything real and good....although these things are without substance.... they abide only in the wind and in the mind... like investment planning, or eternal love affairs... or youth...

It is the best... to be the prophet and the Shaman. It is all that there is. It is better by far than Rock and Roll. or Hollywood. Or TV News. or running for Congress.. or muti national's or making war, tossing balls, feigning interest, saving souls, building human habitrails or anything....anything. It's burning yellow suns... and lifeless space rock. Everything is dead.. and we are dead.... only we refuse to die just yet. Burn out... But we will, and it will be soon.

And here I am... lonely as the night crawls. A wild beast... to rise and be caged...so what if the cubicle possesses no visible bars.... they are still there.....social construct is what they are made of ... expectation and necessity... poverty and ruin. What else is there... a faithful woman?...truth in advertising? A never-ending hot streak? Blessed oblivion? Deus Ex Machina? HA! HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!
hurrah!

steaming pots of shit.

11:21 PM - 3 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Tuesday 20/06/2006

When the odd feeling of a dream lasts all day..
I know that you have all experienced this....when you wake from a deep dream... and the images... or archetypes, are still bright....and the mind is speaking in that language to itself.... which is more primal than the self talk that we use in the head during the waking day.... thing is... it isn't that common.... because we must wake up right during a specific sleep dream cycle to be in this mode....meaning, it's always there... but if we don't wake up during it... it doesn't carry over to wakeful awareness....see? The weird part is often times the images don't seem profound or shattering... but the feelings do. Because it's symbolic..
OK....so this morning I had this dream...

I was in a house... Old wooden paneling on the walls... dark... sliding glass doors... empty...well... little furniture... but bits of junk everywhere.... I was with my ex wife. Clear as day.... is was as if we were still together... but in the dream I was myself today, and I was aware of the fact that we are not.... kind of as an observer in a sense... because in the dream I was still acting as if we were. SO in this state I could really truly see the dynamic between us... the interaction... and be conscious of it. She was complaining... and yelling.... and upset... and criticizing... kind of on and on... endlessly.. upset about this... and that.. this wasn't right... that wasn't right... I had done this wrong. And that... there was this tenseness about her...as if her entire being was just overcome with this stress...and she needed someone to blame... someone to take it out on. It was a physical sense of stress.... that she displayed.... but as I say.... in this dream I was acting it... but my mind was slightly separate and aware... I was aware by my own words that I was in a reactionary state... constantly feeding into what she was doing...trying to please her... appease her... calm her...relax her... but being slightly apart from it.. I realized that it was part of this ongoing never ending process.... that never really achieved any growth or conclusion... or ultimatly..meaning....She and I were sitting on the floor.. going through some boxes... and my mind began to wonder... in the adjacent room.... no walls... kind of an equal sized... sunken connected dining area type thing....as I say no furniture...( this is not an actual house I have been in... but in some ways reminds me feelingwise of several possibly... if I think about it..).. I looked into the next room....I noticed my children... rolling around on the floor and laughing...being silly...almost unaware of us.... just lying around relaxed...lying upon one another... laughing. Serine... kind of slow motion... I noticed all of these blowing brown and yellowish Autumn leaves visible out the sliding glass door... blowing. I thought it was odd.... the children, the age they are now... moved forward... but here in the same room with us....something that's never happened... my daughter surely never remembers seeing the 2 of us in the same room....so it felt weird all under the same roof. Then I snapped out of it.... she was yelling.... said I wasn't even paying attention to her. Nearly in tears....visibly stressed in her face... but I was calm and relaxed... nearby... the children were too.... but she was very upset... she told me to look at this bookcase that I had put a bunch of books on.... she reached between some books... and pulled out a dead duck.... recently dead by the looks of it.....and she had it by the lags...and was crying...and she shoved all the books aside....and there was this big gaping hole ripped in the walls leading to the outside.... appearantly the dead duck had come from it somehow...I could see the leaves ... I remember just thinking what a shitty, shitty place we were living in .... holes in the wall.... dead ducks... no furniture.... trashy boxes everywhere... I wanted to make it all better.... somehow.. fix it all.... but knew...and was thinking while I was looking at her... still talking.....that there was absolutely nothing I could do...

that was it... I woke up... struggled to get out of bed and into the hot shower with a crappy hangover...fighting with myself the urge to call in sick....with this oppressive feeling of just wanting to lay back down and not move for another few hours...and kind of hang in this despair..
that's it..... any interpretations? Freudian, Jungian, New age, or otherwise?

11:04 PM - 8 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Sunday 18/06/2006

Fathers Day BLOG

Most of you know my story by now. POET... Divorced... weekend dad. The struggle I've been through.. Still go through all the time trying to be ok..with all of this... somehow make it work not only for me...a walking Black Hole.. but hoping that my children come out of it all ok....that the decision that one person made.... that effected the life of so many others... especially we four.... does not ruin us all.
So here is just a bit of Fathers day for you.... it was a pretty good weekend over all.... a lot of love... and hugs.. and kind words... the boys and I saw a movie... the girl was a bit wilder than usual... but sweet as pie. They all decided... after a few weeks of me playing the Johnny Cash CD in the car... that DESPERADO was their new favorite song.... so we sand it.... in the car... and in the house... each day...and during dinner...and on the toilet.... We have come down from a lot of fences... let me tell you. And you have not heard beauty.. until you have heard these three less than harmonizing voices shouting out the closing lines... at the top of lungs... " you better let somebody love you.... you better let some body love you.... YOU BETTER LET SOMEBODY LOVE YOU... before its Tooooooooooooooooooo laaaaaaaaaaaaatttteeeeeee!" nice.
Anyhow.... my main story here is about Saturday night.. I sometimes bring a son or 2 to the Oak Cliff Circle of Poets when the yare her on a long weekend... not every time, because a lot of the times they just play around and make noise, and there is no point in that... SO ... my oldest.... he asked to come.. and I explained it to him...and he said that if he came this time, he would listen to the poetry and sit with me the whole time..and he did.
SEE... some of you who havent known me all of these years.... may not know that my son.... my oldest...was once written up in an article in the Dallas Morning news.....as the youngest performance poet in town... HE WAS 2!! It was cool.... when the middle child was born... late 2001... and I had this great 6 week parental leave.. at the ISP... the wife...wanted all this time with the new baby... so he and I had all of this time to do whatever out of the house....so I took him to all of these poetry readings... many more than I would have even normally attended back then considering I had no work...So he spouted off a couple of Haiku one night...after the IPS.... a wrote them down... then a couple of other poems... and he just jumped up on the mic at a Barnes and Noble... that either Jack or I were hosting one night...and started reciting... BAM instant hit... He read at Arts Landing, OCCP, other B&N Poetry Corners....I think IPS....then the reporter cam out one night at Suenos Sabrosos.... they took photos... interviewed us... the piece was delayed a bit.... by September 11th... but ran a few weeks later... it was all pretty exciting.... he got promoted for the festival that year....his uncles would use his work teaching a class... I had him on a website.... he was published on DALLASPOETS.COM....and I received an email from a University up North... wanting to use his Moon Haiku as the basis for a choral piece. They sent waivers... I signed... and it was forgotten.
eventually he kind of burnt out.... became self conscious... and couldn't perform... it was sad... he would get up and try.. I remember a few night at BILLS openmic.... but would freeze up. SO I guess...we all kind of forgot about it... figured it was one of those cute kid things...he had show some interest again.... just before his mother moved out with them....we had talked about it..... but it kind of faded by the side with all that was happening... it comes up sometimes though.
Saturday.... he was asking about his old Website... I told him I would teach him how to Google it up...so he could show anyone anytime,,, his old stuff.... SURPRISE.... there was his name....for the choral piece...on a university EDU site... I think you could hear it...but we are to low tech... I asked Jack to se if he could get it and burn it... it was cool....we were all talking about it before we left..
I was eating.... he was at the table.... he was trying to write something new for the night..... I told him that he was trying to hard... that he has this inner talent.. this voice... dont think it away... just write whets inside... I said a bunch of crazy stuff...we laughed like hell..
OK....here was the coolest part....at one point.... the first time he got up to read... and read a piece... I saw it.... HIM....it was awesome.. I mean for a 7 year old.... and he was good...really good.... and there is this thing.... this thing I get sometimes when I am on the mark....when I'm doing it right... when I am letting the real true talent shine through.... it's the thing that gets me by and keeps me going.... its the sigh of greatness.... MANY never really get it.... or rarely.... its the connection.... beyond the norm... non intellectual.... the transmission between poet and audience... Its kind of like an "AH-HA!" moment... at the end.... it is sublime... and the fact that I can do it...sometimes makes me feel like the luckiest man in the world...and despite it all... I love my gift and my life... in those moments.... OK... so here is the weird part... I SWARE.... my 7 year old son... did it.... he connected... I watched the face of everyone there...when he read...and I swear I saw it... he dug in.... he got them....and they got him... they loved him..... and he knew it....everyone looked at me....and I think I had the biggest smile I have had... in a long long while....
My beautiful boy.... has still got it...
Check him out....
Here is his poem...

Petals by Anando
The petals on a flower
are like little glowing wishes.
Pick them
one by one
petal by petal.
They go flying in the air
like a lions hair
Blowing in the wind.
Blowing with leaves
and grass.
Passing
building by building,
house by house
until the world dies
and the journey ends.

truly... I am unreasonably blessed....

9:53 PM - 9 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Sunday 18/06/2006

444

fourfourfour

French fry forearm tendons. Contract. Release. Tambourine plink ping breathing Diet soda can. Big gestures When I lean back, clad black at the stroke of midnight arms falling palms down facing. Plink again. Neck roll concentric crackling like footsteps on shattered glass. All for the world. All for the world I think, as some wild June thunder busts it up. See that puff of smoke that rises there as I exhale thusly? Oh, its all full of French Canadian Clown Music entangled in fine gravel dusk memories. Where we stood inside the time stream. Watch it float up and away. Taking lost spectacle elsewhere. Root beer memories are no good when the tall grass has known death and resurrection time and again since the slipping away of wishes, days, and clock tics. A can song fades to black.. Elysian Mysteries Thunder as embodiment Its different to be me. Nothing you would understand.

12:30 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

2006-06-18T22:38:00.000-05:00

2006-06-16T22:58:00.000-05:00

Friday 16/06/2006

Zodiac

I had this dream once.
I was very young falling asleep on the couch
while The Age of Aquarius
was playing in the background
It was about growing older
in a world that was dark with no background scenery.
I was with hundreds of other children,
We were trapped there with only stage lighting
like a Broadway show,
and we had to find a means of escape.

There were 2 ways, really.

The first, was to be eaten alive
by these tiny 1 foot tall
Tasmanian Devil type creatures
running about on the ground.
To simply let them swallow you
and be gone from the stage.
The second, was to drink a potion
in a bubbling vile
that would allow you to survive
and escape the tiny creatures
whose giant mouths would open wide
and swallow you whole in one tremendous gulp.
but the potion would make you only half visible
mostly intangible.
So it was really not a life at all.
Only a half life of sorts.

This dream,
with the trippy Hippie soundtrack,
it haunted me for years and years
never understanding its meaning.

Even more so than
the reoccurring dream
of always moving from room to room
with an unknown woman.
which I still have on occasion.

until eventually
I guess,
I did understand it
Yes
I guess I did.

10:50 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Friday 16/06/2006

Dream Car

I don't dream about cars.
They are mere objects
of function.
Possessing
absolutely no inherent meaning
or beauty
only purpose.

So,
If you should happen to date
a stripper,
and she states rather matter of factly
that trucks
are sexy,
you should stop dating her
right then.
If you have half a soul left
or one nut sack.

Because such pointlessness
under the hot sun
is less than
a dollar beer
at the run down bar
down the block.

10:18 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Thursday 15/06/2006

slow drip sizzle

Cocksuckers
and birds under bumpers.
Writing and writing and writing and writing.
Censorship monkey art ladies
fanning the flames.
A Bauhaus song,
background music on primetime.
Never trust a woman.
Never trust a man.
Eat eggs and potatoes.
Circumstance like
oblivion on a Dandelion.
Love for women like
swallowing peanutbutter.
I want to punch men in the face
and in the gut
and kick them in their mouths,
and hyena ball scratch laugh
at Vaginas.

The top 10 pieces of cinema
I ever viewed while on LSD
are as follows:
Naked Lunch
Natural Born Killers
Yellow Submarine.
The Wall.
Mary Poppins.
Monty Pythons Meaning of Life
Angel Heart
Glen Glenda
The Wrath of Khan
Being There ( 1979)

And the only film ever worth watching
while drinking whiskey
and remembering
how you nearly fucked the mayors daughter
that one time
and watching the police chief on teevee
like a talking head
remembering all those years
his son would come over and get high
and that time waking up on the floor
to some chick with spiky hair
sucking him off..

Barfly.
of course
It's always Barfly motherfuckers.

It was Barfly all those goddam years ago
before any of it made any sense
before all of it became predictable,
and it was barfly last year
when that pretty young one
gave me a few weeks
and we watched it
with her legs scrunched up in a blue skirt
with my arms wrapped around her
feeling like a baseball hit out of the park
or a cubic zirconium up the anus.

Christ, I hope I die some when near
before my fingers look like Cherry Tomatoes
and my tears like mustard.
I still don't want to do anything.
or be anything.
and care less about things like
atoms
house flies
what the market closed at
civilized interaction
and love
each and every single fucking day.

For all my friends.
For
all my friends.

11:03 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Friday 09/06/2006

Who I'd like to meet

I want to meet girls
with tongues like lightning and
voices like brushed velvet,
who can be counted on like lit matches
to burn fast and disappear,
but be beautiful,
honest and true
in the burning.
Gentlemen with top hats
but not really,
only that they seem as such
when picturing them mincing words
in the eye of the mind.
POETS with razorblade fingertips,
that growl like bears
wave like flags
and spit demon possessed words.
I want to meet weasels that walk upright
and collect paychecks
while wearing the latest fashions.
I want to meet the last man on Earth
when the time comes
sullen and walking desolate streets
fiddling with a coin in his pocket.
I want to meet humans,
new humans
half animal
half plant,
kind of greenish with wild vines
intertwined
in the head,that serve
to both confound and illuminate.
I want to meet Sting,
and people made of hourglass sand.
I want to meet myself,finally
in the dirty water of a mud puddle
with half my head blown away
a terrible casualty of a war
waged completely
in my mind.

8:11 PM - 7 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

TIGER LILY

I hear you small dark soul
grasping at the sky for answers. Obsidian
in the deep of night. Resonating,
I hear harmonies in the music of your melancholia.
But, alas your answers,
will only be found
in Tiger Lilies
or in the retinas of cats
in dark pearled oysters
in Tasmania or maybe Tangiers
inside a puff of smoke
in the eye of a category 5
in moments of panic
between the chimes of midnight
in the hunger of ghosts.
the burn of passion.
beneath casual misconception
floating in a Summers wind
dripping in caverns
between liberation and madness
under water hose rainbows
while eating an onion
in the poems of madmen
in a field of swaying umbrellas
in a sip of hot coffee
trickling down the side of a cup.

Such tender musings you see
are for those
whose eyelids blink
more slowly than most and sound
like heavy temple bells
each time they open and close.

Your darkness is beautiful
You are more real than most.
I would like to see you read your words
palm to chest head tilted back,
distant eyes
I would take your hand
and smile at you. and nod.
Yes, I would nod and I
I would smile.

11:45 PM - 9 Comments - 16 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Sunday 04/06/2006

No Justice

Something happened see
it's not like it was,
everything is broken
like some greater balance has been
nudged off kilter by some
confluence of unfortunate cosmic happenstance.
There is no justice anymore,
at least not In my world. No.

It all moves forward like nothing.
While the woman who broke me open and hollowed me out
floats around in a bubble
she is not even sorry, that she stole from me
the best years of life I could have had.

While the piece of shit who jumped me
and beat on my head in a gutless surprise attack,
continues on, business as usual
and no one fucking cares,
no one even blinked and eye
while this shitty fucking asshole
just keeps on being a shitty fucking asshole,
that an inept police force cannot even locate
and no one even cares what he did,
it just doesn't seem to matter at all.

And when I date a female these days I dont expect much,
hell Im pretty jaded at this point,
all I ask for, all I can expect
is a little fucking honestly, just shoot straight.
I'm not expecting fidelity,
or truth or love or honor or vertue
any type of good behavior whatsoever,
but shit Just be straight, just have the guts
to tell me what the hell you are doing,
it's not like Im not expecting it,
yet even this seems to much to ask,
this minor courtesy.
So there they go,on to the next
never missing a beat,
just like the one,
all I ask Is not to be like her, the one,
but there they go,like nothing
like nothing, like nothing, like nothing,

And the corporations that we are stick with
they always control and lie and manipulate
until it becomes unbearable,
then they cut you loose like nothing.
As though none of it really matters.

And I know that really none of it does really matter.
I tell myself this, trying to remain at ease.
outside of the insanity as best I can.
Existing without revenge or cruelty,
practicing kindness and detachment as much as I can muster.
I believe in the Karma of it all,
and after all Why add to it?
I mean when these selfish selfish creatures
continue to harm, and destroy, and lie,
and manipulate, and hurt,
I mean don't I just make it worse if I participate in it as well?
isn't it better to stive for the good
rather than evil like all the rest?

The lesson I taught Timmy, so very very long ago
back in the early nineties
when he stole and was stolen from
and when I was stolen from the culprit
was immediately stricken with some instant Karma.
There was a seeming balance in the world.
This was the lesson back then,
and it seemed to be the way of things,but now,
something is broken, or I am broken.
Maybe I ruined it for myself
by letting myself be taken advantage of for so long,
by forgetting to love myself while loving others.
After all what is worse than unkindness to ones self
Maybe I created a vacuum.
wherein my own Karma is in the negative
and now all manner of beast that crawl the earth
the unfaithful, the dishonest,
the violent, the ignorant, the cruel,
the selfish, the pompous, the dastardly,
the disturbed, the inhuman, all,
all of them now have free reign
to poke and prod and hurt and fuck with me endlessly
until the end of my days.

It seems as though there is no justice in the world.
It seems like it on TV. It seems like it in Politics.
It seems like it in war. It seems like it in love.
It seems like it with natural disasters.
But maybe there is, in some larger way,
and this is just my own view of things,
because I am broken now where once I was not.
And these creatures that abuse me
continue to crawl the earth.
Slithering upon the ground.
Fighting and fucking and vomiting and lying
and blinking their eyes and riding in elevators,
working at jobs, making stupid, stupid, stupid jokes
and continuing to breathe,and going forward to the next
and to the next and to the next.
There is no justice.
There is no justice.
Maybe there never was.
Or maybe there was once but it is gone now.
I know this, I know this.
I may be wrong about some things,
this I know. This is true.
There is no justice.
There is no justice at all.

11:48 PM - 6 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

2006-06-04T17:43:00.000-05:00

Sunday 04/06/2006
full of sound and fury,Signifying nothing.
While reading a poem posted by my buddy the other day....something occurred to me.
Well... not really his poem.... but the immediate feedback via comments and such....got me thinking about the steadily shrinking comments I receive. Although I always say that my Blogging... poetry.....all of it on here.... is a survival mechanism....an artist in progress.... full blown....voyeuristic to the max...nothing like the honed finished product that you are likely to find at the open mics. No, the Blogs are blow by blow....sure some monumentus ART.... but interwoven with the kind of painful minutia and confessional madness... that only fans of, bazaar reality TV, melodramatic soap operas, and painfully dark existential novels might enjoy.... or maybe Agoraphobic shut-ins with no life to suffer through of their own. Maybe.
It is what it is I suppose... yet.... looking back over these last couple of weeks... during which time I have gone through an insane period of introspection...and writing... not only this freakishly long letter to my ex....and an particularly long typed out email conversation with an old friend (A)...which was helpful on a full brain day... but all of these INSANELY long drawn out torturous Blogs....a bit much I suspect, for most.
I fear that I have driven off my readership....
One of my friends did Blog this the other day..."Well, maybe not P..., He always likes insight in any form, agreeable to it or not." That made me very happy...
My hits have dropped slightly.... but are still pretty high some days...but the lack of comments seems to indicate that my peeps are peeking in and thinking " SHIT... not another one of these...what is this some kind of freaken 12 step inventory?..." and quickly clicking away....which I don't blame them....who could read this crap?
Well.... Travis...( heh heh heh heheheh!!) admitted that he has been reading...man.... and I know from our discussion that (A) had at least read some...but mostly I think... the clickity click..
Please ... let me offer my apologies!! To all of my friends and readers... I, who always live by the credo at the MIC... that one must "be kind to their audience"....who is nearly driven MAD by poets...even ones I like... that read something up into the 10 min plus range... have committed this atrocity!!
I apologize to you all! Please come again!.... I can't promise that it won't happen again... in fact it probably will... but I will try REALLY REALLY hard to mix it up more.. keep the long historical bits more spread out..... with lots of fun, insightful, piffy, humorous, bits.. in-between... and oh yeah.... POEMS... this thing I've been going through has KILLED my ability to write POEMS... haven't spit any out in a while.... NEED to write some POEMS..... yes..... poems...Poeticus...

"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,To the last syllable of recorded time;And all our yesterdays have lighted foolsThe way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,And then is heard no more: it is a taleTold by an idiot, full of sound and fury,Signifying nothing."
Macbeth act V Scene 5

11:04 PM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
No Justice
Something happened see
its not like it was, everything is
broken like some greater balance has
been nudged off kilter by some confluence of some sort.
There is no justice anymore, at least not
In my world. No.
It all moves foreword like nothing
while the woman who broke me open
and hollowed me out
floats around in a bubble she
is not even sorry, that she stole
from me the best years of life I could have had.
While the piece of shit who jumped me
and beat my head with his gutless
surprise attack, continues on, business
as usual and no one fucking cares,
no one even blinked and eye while this
shitty fucking asshole just keeps on being
a shitty fucking asshole, that an inept
police force cannot even locate and
no one even cares what he did, it
just doesn't seem to matter at all.
And when I date a female these days
I dont expect much, hell Im pretty jaded
at this point, all I ask for, all I can expect is
a little fucking honestly, just shoot straight
Im not expecting fidelity, or truth or love
any type of good behavior whatsoever, but shit
Just be straight, just have the guts to tell me
what the hell you are doing, it's not like Im
not expecting it, yet even this seems to much to ask
this minor courtesy. And there they go, on to the next
never missing a beat, just like the one, all I ask
Is not to be like her, but there they go, like nothing
like nothing, like nothing, like nothing,
And the corporations that we are stick with
they always control and lie and manipulate
until it becomes unbearable, and then they cut you loose
like nothing. As though none of it really matters.
And I know that really none of it does really matter
And I tell myself this, trying to remain at ease
outside of the insanity as best I can. Existing
without revenge or cruelty, practicing kindness
and detachment as much as I can muster.
I believe in the Karma of it all, and after all
Why add to it? I mean when these selfish selfish
Creatures continue to harm, and destroy,
and lie, and manipulate, and hurt, I mean dont
I just make it worse if I participate in it as well?
isn't it better to stive for goodness rather than the evil
that they all spread?
The lesson I taught Timmy, so very very long ago
back in the early nineties when he stole and was
stolen from and when I was stolen from the culprit
was immediately stricken with some instant Karma
This was the lesson back then, and it seemed
to be the way of things, but now, something is
broken, or I am broken. Maybe I ruined it
for myself be letting myself be taken advantage of
for so long, by forgetting to love myself while
loving others. Maybe I created a vacuum.
wherein my own Karma is in the negative
and all manner of beast that crawls the earth
the unfaithful, the dishonest, the violent,
the ignorant, the cruel, the selfish, the pompous
the dastardly, the disturbed, the inhuman,
all, all of them now have free reign
to poke and prod and hurt and fuck with me
endlessly until the end of my days.
It seems as though there is no justice in the world.
It seems like it on TV. It seems like it in Politics.
It seems like it in war. It seems like it in love.
It seems like it with natural disasters.
But maybe there is, in some larger way, and this is just
my own view of things, because I am broken now
where once I was not. And these creatures that abuse me
continue to crawl the earth.
Slithering upon the ground.
Fighting and fucking and vomiting and lying and
blinking their eyes and riding in elevators,
working at jobs, making stupid, stupid, stupid jokes
and continuing to breathe, and going forward
to the next and to the next and to the next.
There is no justice. There is no justice.
Maybe there never was. Or maybe there was once
but it is gone now. I know this, I know this.
I may be wrong about some things, this I know.
This is true.
There is no justice.
There is no justice at all.
12:39 PM - 4 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Friday 26/05/2006
just waiting for the next one to talk me up and show me her pussy
See, I was never really exposed to the female of the species. Well kind of, I mean I did grow up with a sister, but she is not like most females, she is very different. I suppose a mirror to the many way in which I am not like the typical male in out culture. She and I are very different. She is very single minded. Low key. Sort of focused. Quite a lot like her father. A father, which I of course share. A Man I've grown to love and even admire, certainly to appreciate greatly over the years, but I've never actually grown the ability to actually communicate with him. That would be like growing a third arm out of my ass. Not that there are negative intentions... we just operate on such vastly different paradigms, there is simply zero common reference point.
Then there's the mother. No gas Pumping, emotional beyond reason, drama family ties, journal, first sentence after inpatient treatment "oh.. I knew it this is going t o be all about me" but its really not... yeah. Ok... but no one sees there mother as a female.. or wants to get into their head, at least I never did. Well...heh.. that brief mid nineties dads always on business trips while mom and I watch UPN Sci Fi stuff smoke joints and call for pizza delivery... there was a period of verbal harmonization.... turns out she isn't SO dissimilar from some... in many ways...very surreal that year was.
But back to my story...
I'm driving down Sanford again today. This time I remember this female from a very long time ago. So long ago I can't remember the exact spot, but it was somewhere in that neighborhood. When I was very young and living in Houston the atmosphere ..for some bazaar reason was abnormal...at least I think it was. Trashy maybe. Several of my poems over the years shine light on these dark spots. I didnt have a lot of friends.. a couple of good ones, male. Junior high was very tough, very lonely. I can't say more. Moving to Arlington.... for some reason I thought was the worst thing ever, not sure why. I was 15. I'm very glad it happened in the big story... now that is. One thing.. I was very alone here... it took me a while to make friends. First year here at the high school... I bonded slightly with the absolute bottom of the social scale in a school that was all about this...scale. I'm pretty sure it was on purpose. I didn't like a lot of what I saw...wasn't sure why then. Second year... I met these 2 dudes... became part of the brand spanking new subculture. leading edge of it.
Anyhow.. I keep digressing... I'm getting that way. I remember this point where I'd never really known the company of the female. I don't just mean I'd never hooked up... that's obvious. I mean I'd never even spend enough time with a female and listened to them speak to be cognitively aware of the way that they function... never touched one.. never even really spoken to one at length. There was this one Dan.. OH.... he though he was a New Wave James Dean, boy... we knew how cool he was. and was his nerdy sidekick.. or something. So he was always talking to females... ALWAYS talking to them...So somehow I started talking to this one a little.
I dont even remember the details. I somehow got over to her house.. maybe after school or something...a few days in a row. I have no idea if I had any actual ideas...it was just new. I never touched her... never tried.. had no idea... I was just flaggergasted. listening to her talk. She was way less hip or cool... kinda cute I think...sort of blue collerish I suppose.. in retrospect. I guess I just followed her around and listened to her for a few days.
See.... the female.. it has a .well.... a big thing. A......um....A... thing. I'm not sure how to describe this.... every female is surrounded by this creation...it comes from their friends as they grow up, their mothers, the culture.... its this buzzing field of ideas, and words, and conceptions. It's like this buzzing field that surrounds them, it IS them really. Its a never ending dialogue. Its full of hyperbole, maybe bragging, flirting, facial expressions, stories... and more stories, and competitiveness, and desire, and attempts to qualify everything.... this..this female dialogue... It's everywhere all around us...they buzz with it all the time...share it with one another constantly...growing it... retooling and strengthen it.... gossiping... talking... buzzing... telling stories.
We boys... at least at first...we don't hear the sound of it. We're like Beaver Cleaver and Pals.... but then later we become like Wally. And I'm not talking about hormones.. and pubic hair... or maybe I am... all I know is that there is this moment...when something compels you to sit down with one of these Alien creatures... and listen to it speak. And then they somehow know your listening and they hypnotize you with it... the buzzing field of consciousness. Perhaps in someway they have been trained... spider like to draw you into it... maybe the facial expressions, the various voice modulations.. all that.. was some type of evolved adoption... to draw us into this field... at some point...for some reason... All I know is that I sat there.. and I listened to it.. and listened to it, and I couldn't stop.... It lasted for a few days... I can't remember that much.. Only today did it actually occur to me what the moment in time had wrought.
The next one.... actually not to terribly long after. Well she was another cast off from the cool guy. He really knew tons of these females. Well she was different... nice to me... she was trendy...hip.... kind of.. and there it was again... that bluster... that dialogue... that talk... that field of perception and feelings...an again I mostly sat and Listened. But this time, I had been watching Dan... I figured out that If I said a bunch of stuff...tried to be clever...like someone on TV...said things to seem tough... or more worldly.... she pulled me into it even more. One night we dropped by her house... she asked me for a hug when we were leaving... and then she freaken put her tongue in my mouth... a lot. We got in the car...Dan smirked...made some comment I can't recall. Then she came to my house after school. She kissed me again. She took my hands... looking me in the eyes.. and put my finger in her pussy... then asked if I liked it. I think I just nodded. We went for a walk in the woods her by I:30.. She unzipped my pants and sucked my cock until I came in her mouth. I asked her to do it again later. And the next day.... then a few days later...she got on top me and fucked me in my bedroom. She told the people at school that she was my girlfriend. It was all just disorientingly unfathomable. I decided that I liked it though. Mostly I liked the idea that this girl, though I was something special and wanted to be my girlfriend. And also... I really like the blowjobs.. a lot. Then a while later... however long...she became moody... and she backed me out of that field... I was no longer the focus of that buzz.... she simply decided to focus it elsewhere... and I didnt really get why... but she just took up with this other guy. She was very emotional... and very sure... and she seemed to have this big map of all of these feelings... it was pretty overwhelming.
I remember being really impressed with this. The way the female had all of this stuff always going on.. in this field. But not so thrilled about the unreliability of it all. The seemingly random fickle nature of it. I was at once marvelous and confounding. I really had no idea how to get it back with another one... no one had ever really explained it. I DID noticed that other males.. starting with Dan... and many sense....didn't seem as impressed with all of this....they would sort of act as though they were above it somehow. That they desired the female...sure... but only for physical pleasure.. and that the rest should be ignored for the most part. They acted as if maybe... just maybe there was this identical parallel male training...where these lessons of pretense were taught. Where one does not let onesself get caught up in the web... the thoughts... the buzz... all the talk... one holds themselves above it... look somehow down upon it. It seemed like sign of weakness really.... that I had missed this training somewhere along the line.... perhaps that lonely year when I as 15... I'm not sure. Bt I never seemed to learn not to get caught up in it. To think that all of it is real, and important. That every word each females that lets me into it speaks is anything less than an earth shattering truth. That it is all very important and big and real and powerful. Now granted over the years, I have learned in retrospect... to see some of it as this bazaar tangle of stuff.... after the fact.... but each time a new one comes along... I SWARE to you will all of my heart.... that this one seems very very different.. That their line... there dialogue... there stories....are so powerful... that they must me more compelling than every proceeding one.
It's a cosmic joke really. Here I am. This aging Poet... studies Bukowski.... year after year after year. and MUCH of his work...was dedicated to a more detailed examination of this phenomena than any I have ever seen. Much of it is a manual....of how to defend against the suffering part of all this... build up the defenses... the cynical jarring pretense... of course the TRUE irony... being that when you study the man long enough.. you realize that it is all tongue and cheek... it's a wink .. al those goofballs that only se surfaces.... that are always decrying him as a misogynist ( an odd word I've always thought considering is doesnt seem to have an opposite.) see the thing is... when you look in his face and listen to him speak... HE never really got past it either... he was just like me. Each one that came and went... left giant skid marks on his soul.
So thats it... its pretty much the same as it ever was. I still have absolutely no idea what all of this is about I was married for 8 years to a woman who had the most motherfucking powerful dialogue I'd ever encountered. She coulda told me I had wings on my ass and could fly. I woulda bought into it...Well not rationally...but emotionally. And shit..even as old as I was... as much as I'd seen....which is a hell of a lot... there really isn't any new and improved game... I mean it's all smarter.. more worldly. But it plays out the same. Some female seems to look real good... for some particular reason....she starts in with the talk....the smiling.... the eyes...certain words... maybe key words.....some kind of touching....and the talking and talking and talking...all the buzz... the web... then the kiss...then I'm touching a pussy... then my cock is being sucked... or something... then the other thing..... although I've been burned so many times I usually put that of and off until I'm feeling pretty sure that they will be around a bit... just to keep it at a more manageable level if not.....and then at some point it is over... maybe a week... maybe 3 months... maybe 6 or 9 months.... maybe a couple of years... maybe 8 years... but the ending is always the same just like the beginning... at some point, they have moved that talk over to some other male...maybe with some of the decent ones... its just the talk..... maybe with some others they have already moved some of the other stuff over to the next as well.... I guess it depends...
It's all kind of the same deal though. After 8 years with the wife... I had kind of made myself forget it all. Most husbands do I think... at least the ones that never cheat.
The first 2 females that let me into their field a little... very soon after...still in shock...had known me years back... they both already had a man in their field of consciousness.... but were....giving me a little of it too.... they do that sometimes... 2 very different stories.. the months passed... I was walking damaged goods....sending out danger vibes.... One that talked to me real nice.... but kept me at length...waiting for what she wanted to come along...less damaged I suspect. Then the first one that let me in....WOW! That was the first real female dialogue I had heard in years.... ( I suddenly realized that the wife had me on half speed for the last couple of years... half cut out.... makes me wonder who she was talking too..) BANG! Woof... it didn't last long..
SO... I've always wondered... all these gentlemen. that act like they are above it...is it an act? Seriously I'd like to know. It's that this big running joke on TV commercials and shit..the one where the guy can't listen to his girlfriend talk for 3 straight min... or the ones where the guy is watching Sports and the wife is yammering on and on..and he pauses it for a second to say something supportive.. then continues.. the joke being that he really never listens, doesn't care..and why should he? But me? I hate sports! I always have...always It just seems like the worst of all cultural mindsets to me..so is that it? SO is that it? The sports mindset.. teaches the meale to ignore the female..and thereby distance himself from... the thing?
I still feel like that clueless kid most of the time. I have no idea what its about... I know the pattern, but that's about it. I feel when it starts... but I could never guess which one it will be.. or usually guess wrong. Mostly I'm just standing around waiting for the next one to start talking.. show me her pussy... and all the rest..maybe call me her boyfriend if I'm lucky..
I still get caught up just as easy... I just realized the other day that I am still using facial expression , word cues, vocal intonations...stuff like that from the last female I dated....little stuff... it's weird.... we didn't even hang out all that long... I'm trying to be conscious of it.
Look... don't get me wrong.. I'm not saying all women are the same.... just the patterns... the basic structure of it all.... actually they are all pretty unique in their feel... their own particular peculiars.... there buzzing field of energy and talk... if I meditate quietly on anyone of them from the past... I can clearly pull up the sensation of what it was like to sit across from them or lay next to them and listen to their dialogue... be caught in their web... each one is a clear unique impression... Hell even this very first one I was talking about.
even glancing through my Myspace list... I see 8-10 ish that I have at least some small familiarity with their workings.... their spiel..... some unique feel.
I count 8... that I can say I've experience their field of personality... their dialogue pretty deeply in one way or the other... that I know them pretty damn deeply.... if you had them answer an anonymous survey... all 8 of these on here... I could easily tell you which was which.... easy... if I close my eyes and think about each name I've written down... I can recall their childhood tales.. what they are proud of them selves for... what they hate.. what their fears are..... how they feel about at least a dozen things.... what makes them sad or scared....why they are lovable....and what there biggest flaws are... yep....
Keep in my the EX wife is nowhere near the NET.... and the last one defriended me for some reason...
yeah... I really have no idea what any of this means... I think it means that in all of these freaken years I have learned absolutely nothing.
Recently.... I have had this really really strong urge to find a Chinese girl to get involved with....I saw one the other day...yeah....then after that, another.. another....it made me think.... I'll bet that would be real interesting....something to hear...something very meaningful and real....
11:13 PM - 1 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Thursday 25/05/2006
The new Mantra and the old life...
So I spent hours and hours the last 2 days witing this big long ass hand written letter to my ex wife.
The last time I tried writing her was well over a year ago...and she ripped it up without reading it... this was one of the very last times... maybe the last time we actually spoke... I mean to each other... not voice mails.
This need to communicate with her has been burning a hole in me for a very long time.... months and months. I've had this fantasy.... this poets madness... of letting it all hang out... bold poet Blogger style.... typing up this huge brilliant piece.... and posting here on the Blogs.... after sending it.....
but for some reason I could never work it out.... It always made me sick.. to try... very sick.... anxiety sick. I sat down and started typing on several occasions....only to end up with some ponderous avoiding Blog.... or scathing poem about the brutal nature of culture... or some such.
But there are some specifics I have had to address.... times days... papers I sent... things she sent back... etc...etc....all very business like.... but even the leaving of mesages...well... it's similar... lesser maybe... to the writing.... I put it off.... write poems, drink at the bar, go read, email dames.... you know.... put it off...
but then when I was at the break shop....waiting.... pen and pad... I started writing it.... got halfway through..... then today.... at Starbucks..... finshed it... page after page after page after page.....everything I need to say... all the closure I need.... all of it.... long and drawn out like our marriage.... overblown with too much talking like every fight we ever had..... thats it.. me with all my flaws.... right there.. talking in circles.... over explaining over analizing .....admitting to every fault I have... openly and honestly... admitteing to every mistake, every thing I did wrong..... and begging for recognition for every hurt... every slight..... some acknowlegement for every sacrafice... every effort.... taking full ownership of my 50 percent of the failure of it all... pleading and pleading that she take ownership of her 50 percent....begging her to have the compassion for me.. the father of her children and the man who sacraficed everything he had to give her 8 years of his life... to help me to put some of my ghost to rest... to help me to move on . I DID tell her that once.. a long time ago, before it all went sour... that she was the best friend I had ever had. A long time ago..Time will not heal these wounds... ever., and time alone will not ever create even the atrmosphere of civility that we both so desperatly need. But, I did extend my hand and say that.... this atmosphere is possible... it is possible... but it will take something more than just time. ..
Maybe forgiveness. On both sides.
It was messy. Emotionally it was messy. The handwriting was messy. The style was barely coherent...rambling at times..... all very messy. She very well might toss it out again. She might scream and tell me to fuck off...again. I did leave her the voice mail this evening, telling her the bare minimun about tomorrow.. or the next day. I did did ask her very clearly and calmly to read the letter.
It did mean something to me to finally write it though.....even if all of you guys don't get to read it... It meant something to me..
See... I kinda dated someone recently... it was actually quite the mismatch.... we are pretty different...and we have some pretty different views on some things...but she really helped me..... in a few ways....She helped me to see that I could feel good about myself being around another person again, She helped me to come out of my shell a litte bit more..... talk openly... on the telephone even. She taught me... by watching her.... with her Ex.... that it IS possible to learn to be civil... and cooperate.... that it can happen. And most importantly she taught me that It's OK to let go of something that isn't right... and that I CAN do it...and that I can do it with positive feelings... without negitivity or conflict. and that even if my feelings are hurt a litte bit by something...that I am capable... that my life and practice have made me capable of quickly forgiving...having positive feelings and wishing them the very best. It feels good. really, really, good. I would like to thank her for that.... with all of my heart. Thank you. ( although I doubt that you are reading this anymore.).
As for the EX wife.. Well, only time will tell. She has never been capable of this before... but in this case it's apart from her... not a daily thing.... maybe she can be emotionally honest... at least this once. And I told her my new MANTRA.... the one I just learned from my recent experiances.... the one that the rest of my life will be baeed on....."Equal or nothing, and nothing is OK..." I just got this one straight... and it's not just words.... it's real, it's truth... and it's new to me.... Nothing less than equal is EVER acceptable..... and having nothing... really and truly IS totally fine....
This goes for everything. In the case of the EX.... it means that if she wants to make a litte effort...she will get a litte effort back.. equal. In future relationships... this means... equal emotion, equal levels of commitment, equal respect, all of it.. all equal. Hell this goes for everything. Future Jobs.... friendships.... everything... balance...equal.
And nothing... letting it all go......is always always always an acceptable choice.... letting go is always ok... if it needs to be.
of ANYthing or ANYone...
It IS Samsara after all.
This is the lesson for the year.
Go forth... or something..
12:48 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
All About Jill That Night
See, it was all about Jill that night, and she was beautiful, goddam beautiful. Beautiful like a nuclear bomb Beautiful like natural disaster Like sip of sweet tea Like breaking bones Like a melancholy song Like a thousand Tiger Lilies in an ice storm. I mean she was something, and I'd been chatting her up. All the old poets noticed her. I mean really noticed her. The old poets. The older than me poets. And they were like "hey! did you see..' And "goddam do you see!" And "holy shit that's incredible! the way those...." All that business. But they had missed it. The real point. She wasnt just a sexy beast. She was sweet and funny and clever. With a voice like chilled honey,and eyes like flowing molten lava. Something above the norm. They all noticed that I had been talking her up. and they were encouraging for some reason.Asking how it was going and saying "you should hit on her" Living vicariously I suppose. Even though I was an aging poet too I still had a bit of it left in me, still managed to work it out with the young beautiful ones once in a while. However, as I tried to explain, that is just not the way that it works. That I dont "hit on" the females at all.All those months working at the bar had taught me it. I had made all these dozens of beautiful female friends. All desirable beyond explanation, but its not about some scam, or such. I just simply present myself as who I am as the poet, that's all. Occasionally, but rarely, one I meet somehow "gets me" or has had a lot to drink that night and wants to date me for a bit or show me some attention for a while. a night, or a week or so. It is what it is. There's no point trying to make it happen or predict which ones. I simply have to go about my business show them the whole deal. smile, say a few kind words and take whatever comes. Even the prominent hardcore feminist poet approached me that evening. Praising a love poem about the one from last year that I had read on the mic. She said it was amazing to hear a male write a poem like that, with such sensitivity. One that wasn't derivative, or sappy or seemed like some type of mac. I took a swig of my beer and said "Well yeah baby.. that's because I'm the real thing, the real poet, what I write isnt trying to do anything It's just true, and real, and messy, and full of guts, It is what it is." (admittedly I was goading a bit)She had no response. It was late, and I'd had too much It was time to go. Of course I had to say goodbye to Jill Because It had been all about her that night. She hugged me pressing against me. A kiss on the cheek. A smile like the moon. And buzzing bees. I think I mentioned something about her being a "quality female," and told her to "keep up the good work." She laughed. I bowed slightly, and took leave. See, thats all I have. That's all I ever have. Usually not enough, true .but sometimes. It was fun though. It's always fun..
5:37 AM - 2 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

Sunday 21/05/2006
When Timmy would play the guitar until his fingers bled a bit
I just took a big ol dose of Nyquil.... but I feel like getting my thoughts down... So before the shit hits...and sends me on that cosmic Nam Chopper journey... here are some thoughts.... short... not so sweet...
* I flattened up my flat top this evening... now its flatter. Yes.. a lot more flattop ish really. I'd show it to you.. but dammit I don't have a digital camera... I really really need a digital camera... my last shots of the kids were months ago.. and I need a new way cool Myspace cool pic casue I like to keep my current self up there... this one is quite old... Ex wife old...
* I need to call her.... hammer out some stuff.... but I can't... I've go this pain in my gut and my head and my heart and it all has her name on it. I keep putting it all off.... I know I need to call... or write her a letter... I've needed to write her a sizable letter for a while.... so much stuff... but just her voice on the machine is enough to make me....feel this broken feeling inside... for days.... FUCK I hat dealing with this.... it makes my brain jumbled up.... I just can't abide her...I don't know how many months and years and days I can go on this way.... with out some real, serious closure.... something from her would be the easy way... the good way... some token... I suppose there is another way... closure all on my own.... HEll I've spent all this time rebuilding myself from scratch again... all on my own... on will power, insight, and guts alone.... you'd think I'd figure this last part out....so far... no joy..
* Well....since the last girl I was dating.....stopped dating.... well... me.... I've nearly read a book... I bought 2.. this history of Buddhism piece... and a journal of Ken Wilbers thoughts.... I was drawn to the dryness and factual nature of the Buddhist book first.... nearly done... I'll start the Wilber book right after. I bough the most melancholy CD I've ever head... The Man in Black.... like me.... and played it repeatedly... I cut my hair different. I've written a lot more good clever insightful BLOGS.... only a couple of poems though.. mostly with the time I had been spending talking on the phone.. I redoubled my workout efforts... thats what I do... got some real good ones... then got sick... AGAIN dammit....and lastly.... have for the most part avoided the company of females..... this is the best part.... I do so much MORE with my mind, body, and creative voice.... when not in the company of the female... although it could be argued that many great poems come in the aftermath.... I REALLY am better off though... logical speaking when not in the company of...... I do better stuff.... don't spend money..... move forward.... yet.... who doesn't appreciate the company of a female... well... I would say every male must.....considering pretty much every female I have ever interacted with.... a lot or a little...seems to move on to the next one.....sometimes within a matter of hours... days... whatever.. it never takes long....on to the next.... they never seem to require the cooling off period.... the reevaluation.... the mending... the breaking of emotional ties.... shoring up of the heart.... no.... no that' me... not the female.... they are on... on ... on.... ALL of them.... Still... though..... there ARE plenty more out there.....They seem to pop up when least expected....and I AM getting better and better all the time at the shoring up part.... this holding back and hardening of the heart.... this game...not my game.... remember... my meme? says no games.... I always think no games... not this ....heh.... but hell.. Is that really even a possibility? Is there an honest face value real human face.... face to face... a real moment in time? Hell.... If I never learn to lie to myself a little... here and there... once in a while.... I'd always here the lonesome whippoorwill....and always be so lonesome I could cry....
* Well.... reading books is better sometimes.... it makes more sense.
*I have these weird cosmic moments when I take Nyquil... just brief flashes really... maybe flash back.... maybe back to that one time... all those years ago....mainlining it....to try to come down from that crazy pencil led shit... that went on and on all night....the shot... the blue pulsating balls.... shaking..... hardening crystals of salt in a glass that is the entire universe.... entropy... solidifying...... making more advanced... more purposeful..... yet closer and closer to the end of things...slower slower makes more sense... them stop.... but only for an instant..... then BANG!... yeah... bang indeed....yea this shit stays with you forever sometimes.... things are never ever ever really the same.... other times.... meditating..... while Timmy played Guitar... Glimpses it then.....a couple of other times.... HEll even years later...SOBER.... meditating even the major insights which changed everything with their clarity.... well they were mostly visual... by which I mean beyond words.... I often think that they would have never been possible those clear insights... if it weren't for the wild untamed visual ones years earlier...... that set up the stage....dug up the archetypes..... the new language.... even now... today.... I'll never be normal... always apart.... with these visions..... I'll never see what everyone else sees.... Its just not possible anymore... I can fake it a little here and there... but there are always repercussions.... like madness for one.... no.... its better to be honest... put it all out there... lonely....but better in the end...
* I'm trying to decide here how I feel...... I need to email Jack and let him know if I need him to guest host JOES tomorrow..... I WAS SO SICK... yesterday.... but am maybe a little better today.... I was going to spend the money for a DR visit tomorrow... but now it seems like I am enough better that I shouldn't.... I'll probably go into work and wait another day and see.... I am feeling noticeable better than yesterday...but even at that.... I may ought to stay home from poetry tomorrow and give it one more night of rest... and Nyquil...
* Speaking of Nyquil...... it makes me sweat..... and is cosmic.... but only in flashes.... not like that one
10:04 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Wednesday 17/05/2006
Some forever not for better
I'm still in early. This throat infection seems to be getting slightly worse rather than better. BAH!
I did have to sit in the cube for my little morn job though...it was taxing.
After.... I dropped over to see CS....we were to talk of life and such. Another friend was there ( hi!)... and the three of us jaunted down the blvd to Forever Young... the record/CD place I go to once in a while on the rare occasion that I feel like buying music... discount price... I like that place. Then we had a pizza at a little spot on Pioneer Pkwy that I'd never had a pie at before... nice convo...but then I dropped them back and came home... cause I am feeling increasingly weak.
I lent CS one of my Ken Wilber books.... I hope he likes it.... he may not.... it might just be that it strikes me in a particular way..not sure...but if he DOES like it... than I would finally have someone to talk to about it...cool...that would be.
SO coming home... hot in traffic, windows down, I turned up the volume on the CD I had bought. It was one of those very late era Johnny Cash CD's...."America IV.. When the Man Comes Around"... it is the one that has the cover of HURT...the NIN song.... the one I wrote about feeling so emotional hearing drunk at the bar.... back in Jan 05...right after the separation.... but that song did lose some of its impact over time... hearing it over and over and over at Caves every night.... I guess I'm not the only one.. it seemed to get less play after a while. But that isn't why I sought out the CD.. actually a few months back.... one night Janice and I were at the door...and she jokingly said that she was going to put in a string of songs guaranteed to make me emotional...I guess she knows me pretty well... it did... but it ended with another song on this CD....A cover of an old Lennon/McCartney song.... "IN MY LIFE" ..... and it's been buzzing around in my head here and there ever since.
SO there I am.. the heat... the sore throat... the weak feeling... everything everything.... and the mans voice...especially late.... it's just the very very soul of melancholia. Yes.. I wept.... big tears in my hot dirty old car.... for all the places I remember...man.
I must be near mad. It's this poets zeal. A sweeping mass of emotion inside me.... oscillating between a profound almost Dharma like disconnectedness with the impermanent things of the world....and the true poets gut wrenching existential connectedness with everything....everything present, everything past, every living being, and especially... at times....the part of impermanence where things have passed away... gone....slipped by through the blurr of time .
"There are places I remember All my life, though some have changed Some forever not for better Some have gone and some remain All these places had their moments With lovers and friends I still can recall Some are dead and some are living In my life I've loved them all"
There are these moments where I'm so attached to it all....so connected.. I feel so ancient inside like I've been spinning through Samsara for a million million years. Every tick of the clock sounds the reckoning of another universe.
Other times... Well..... those other times I'm brand new. Creating and being created living as the uncreated. Boundless, Strong of heart and soul. powerful of mind and body. On a hot streak to Nirvana.. ( as Hank once said...)
Yeah.... Sometimes I'm a badass motherfucker.
but not today.
6:29 PM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Tuesday 16/05/2006
Reasons why I am not normal and shouldn't date
somewhat recently.... this is a bit comical really... I was chatting up this way hot female at the bar. ( Seriously way hot...). She seems like a very nice girl....we've spoken a few times briefly... never at super great length... but she seems very interesting. See. on this particular night... I was feeling kind of BAMF-ey... you know that thing... that persona I was developing last summer to stuff the stuff... and stuff. See I was just finishing up with this brief by rather intense dating experience... I was feeling a bit melancholy....and of course the proper answer to that is always to drink more...so I'd had an above average amount.. I was feeling frosty. SO I'm chatting up this way cool girly... and I think doing pretty well... you know.. being nice... "hey we should hang out sometime" you know....she seemed somewhat responsive... she had a very beautiful smile... very beautiful. Then I guess the overindulgence in drink....and the recent success mixed with the rather uncalled for bittersweet ending...kind of all swept over me... I was a bit heady for a moment... I pushed it too far... I'm not sure.. the exact words ..something like... or we could just go somewhere right now.... you know...the kind of over boldness that only comes from Tequila shots. Now here is the funny part... ( and by funny I mean...in a demented way..) She says... "P... I read you Blogs... I know how you are",,,, GULP. Uh....damn... read this crap...wow...She was very sweet...she said something about speaking again when I had less to drink.... Well... It's not the first time I've made an ass of myself....probably not the last... it did get me thinking though...maybe she hasnt read in a while... I mean months back... yadda yadda.... and there is always the poetic license....a lot of hyperbole..eh... I feel like I should launch into this big long protest here... trying to convince everyone who reads this crazy sometimes poetic sometimes just me sorting out my inner demons... sometimes just telling crazy stories crap....and try to convince someone ...everyone... myself.. that I am really not that way... or some way .. or something... It all seems rather ..I dunno....
I'm really not a way.... really quite the opposite.... seriously....
In fact I honestly at this very moment on this very day believe that I will never attempt to date another female again in my life.... no fooling. Seriously.... at least today .
I just don't see the point.
Someone I dated recently... made a rather subtle point...a jab really... that I am not normal. I could protest the definition of the activities that she was promoting as normal.... in this context... I could easily disagree... but I think that in a way ( a rather unkind uncalled for way).... she has actually hit on something. I'm not normal.
CS and I were briefly discussing normal last week... My point was that there is a normal...and that normal must be judged in accordance with universal functionality. From a spiritual perspective.. normal.. is a much bigger picture... it has to do with how cosmic phenomena behave... how sub atomic events behave... gravity... natural law... vibration frequencies.. hell I don't know. My point was that humanity.... which is currently in a state of cultural decay... either as a result of inevitable entropy leading to disintegration...as some would say.... or merely due to the stress of outgrowing old spiritual/cultural paradigms... and needing to evolve even further toward a more holistic enlightened state...as others might say... is on tremendous ego trip when WE by which I mean everyday blokes... define what is normal based solely on the other humans in the culture around us... all a matter of numbers... if the majority of people hold something to be true... it must be normal... a very flawed determining process.... even the most foolish among us can easily look around and see a culture filled with...greed, injustice, dishonesty, infidelity, selfishness. oppression, anger and violence..... does that makes all of these things normal? Well,,,from a more enlightened cosmic type perspective.... no... clouds and planets and quarks.... and stars... and even ferns... possess none of these qualities.... but sadly...from a limited cultural perspective... yes... I suppose..
I said " Hell... The guards at the deathcamps in Nazi Germany were NORMAL.... from their perspective... that of their peer group".... but really its not all that relative is it? It can't be.
Anyway.... tangent aside... In the dating world.... there is a normal... a mean... a common denominator. People tend to group up. Even pair up.. with like minds... for synchronicity sake.. I suppose.
In old paradigm tribal cultures, the tribal Shaman... the seer of the invisible world... usually lived apart from the tribe... separate from the rest of the tribe.. or at least with other Shaman if possible. Because of their spiritual experiences... they had ceased to be... normal. Mostly..I suspect... they were not householders... had no families...and were alone... not because they were not wonderful, and necessary and beloved.. simply because they were not normal. By tribal standards. Remember.. Joseph Campbell said that in modern times the role of the Shaman is that of the Poet.... revealer of truth. Sigh...
See... I gotta be me. I am that I am.
I'm a vegetarian. This is a choice I made based on an insight that came to me about 9 years ago. It's my choice it's just part of who I am now.. I'm NOT militant.. I don't judge or preach to others.. It's just part of who I am. I don't mind a little teasing at first.... I'm not defensive and I understand it takes people time to get used to something new... but there is a limit...if we have been dating a few weeks.. I need you to accept this about me as gracefully as I accept the other choice about you... stop making cutting remarks. Just because you don't understand something doesnt mean you have to be negative about it. LOOK.. I'm not saying that I NEED to date a female that is a vegetarian...although that would be ideal...( One of my best friends maried a woman that was kind of vegitrianand became less so after they had been married a while... it has been a point of contention in his life for years..) I DO need to date someone who is accepting and non-judgmental... someone who is open minded to my choice based on who I have become.
I'm a Buddhist. Here is the thing.... I joke a lot... I say that I am not a very good Buddhist any more... and there is some truth to that... My Sila has been out of wack for a while... and may still be for a while... but here just recently... a lot... It has really hit home to me... how profound of an experience my conversion to Buddhism was all of those years ago...and my several years emersion in Buddhist thought. For those of you that have never undergone such an experience...Such an extensive paradigm shift... I can only explain it as a complete rewriting of a persons operating software... in other words maybe you're on windows.. I'm on Mac... something that drastic. Everything I see, feel, taste, experience, be it intellectual insight, spiritual passion, love, romance, suffering, joy, fear,....all of it... it is all to some degree filtered through the light of this all encompassing worldview... my views on culture, money, corporations, life, death, all have a bit of a Buddhist slant to them... I am in no way implying that I am anywhere near an enlightened being... nothing even similar to that...those of you that believe in other worldviews... hold Gods.. Etc.... have those beliefs color your thoughts.... it doesn't make you divine... just effects the way you see the world.. thats all I'm saying. I'll never believe in your god... your rationalizations regarding things that happen... truths about the nature of things...based on myth and bind faith will NEVER hold water with with me... they just won't. Thats not to say that I am not capable of open-mindedness... because I am... It's been MANY.. MANY years since I felt the need to argue or debate with someone else about their religion... to try to prove them wrong or inferior... a lot of people do this... I used to... I just lost the need years ago... my journey is more about me now... SO if I am dating you... I don't NEED you to be a Buddhist... although again that is ideal... it would be cool. I DO need you to be open minded.. non judgmental.... and accepting of something different that you may not understand. Oh yeah.... and although it is OK with me that you hold any belief that you do...I DO need you to have some process.. some rationale, some reasonable experience, some journey that got you where you are... something tangible...Atheist, anthropomorphic deist...tree worshiper.... whatever.... just don't let it be because your parents were that.. or most people around are that... or it sounded weird and cool... In othersords th answer to the question "why do you believe what you believe?".... can't be "I dunno... just cause I do I guess..."..... OK?
I am a POET- Period... this is who I am.. in every way. Everything I do is about this journey. I am constantly involved in the creative process... its ups and its downs... all the time...every day. I am always turned inward examining the internal functions... and always turned outward examining the outer world... this involved process... ( something my buddy recently said required bleeding for...) is a mechanism of creation.... it's end result is the creation of both beauty and truth. Sometimes wonderful.. sometimes ugly. But it the single most important endeavor on the planet. I am this both by disposition and by choice... this is all that I am. I will not un-become this... either by choice or by coersion. I have no desire to be anything other than POET... until my last dying breath. This affects all of my views, my actions, my beliefs, my emotions.... all of it. We Poets are unique... although we can relate on many levels to other types of artists... other types of spiritualists.. other types of philosophers.... and in some cases some can be a little bit of all of these or some of these.... a lot of times poets are in a class all by themselves. I should know... I've spent years around them. They are a hoot... I'm a hoot. So If I'm dating you I don't NEED you to be a poet...or an artist...or creative person of any type... But I do NEED your mind OPEN.... to my experience... to accept me for what I am... and to have a positive view on it....even when it seems like a bit of a pain in the ass. Because it does...sometimes... but if you get it....then you understand the point.
Been there done that....huh... not sure how to type this. See.... Poet... Buddhist.... I've been in 12 step groups, group treatment, therapy, studied the mind from several different schools... I've been in a few relationships....particularly the LONG drawn out experience with the ex wife...I've even been taught corporate management techniques, been certified in communication skills.... all this lifetime of... stuff? What this amounts to is... I can speak... I can say what I mean... I KNOW what I am feeling.. I can identify and express ideas, opinions, and emotional states.... and barring to much drink... I can express all of these things quite clearly and adequately. I am able to communicate respectfully and productively.. a great amount of the times... add to this my experiences which have led me to be very aware of what my boundaries should be... and not having fear of expressing that... Well... that's who I am... IF I AM dating you... I don't NEED you to be as good of a communicator as me, to be as insanely self aware as me, and to be able to express yourself easily at the drop of a hat.... that's OK.... But you MUST be open minded to the fact that I am....DON'T tell me that I think to much... don't tell me that I talk to much.... Please feel free to disagree with me.... feel free to point out flaws in my current state... I am well aware of the imperfections built into my nature... and am always self examining these things ongoing... to figure them out... I'd LOVE to hear your view.. I'd love to discuss anything with you in fact... BUT don't yell at me.... don't lie to me... don't mislead me.... don't fucking bullshit me... don't treat me with disrespect.... don't ignore what is important to me.. my values. hopes, aspirations. views... consistently in favor of your own. I'm not your bitch, I 'm not your slave, I'm not your patsy.... and I will never be these things to anyone... ever ever... I've made these mistakes in the past.... and have learned from them. If you want an equal relationship.... be it a casual one.. or one that becomes more serious in time.... respect who I am.... and keep it equal.... if you feel that it is not.... that one of us is investing more emotion... time ..energy...whatever than the other... be open... be honest... let me know... I DO NOT want to be involved in anything unequal.. in any way...I'm in the process of teaching my self when and how to let go...and I WILL learn this lesson. AND I WILL learn to practice it with a positive uplifting attitude.... this is it. It's this or nothing. An I'm also currently teaching myself that nothing.... is a perfectly viable acceptable option.... Maybe a QUALITY experience is still.... my favorite choice.....but nothing is still a better, acceptable choice above the same old crap.... which is unacceptable....period.
And of course there is the attraction factor....not everyone is even attracted to everyone..... so that limits he field somewhat even from the get go...
Do you see? Do you get it? This dating thing....DO you know this mythical female? does she exist? If so send her my email...we can talk...... otherwise... I'm just going to stick to my own path.... do my own thing my own way.... if something comes along....well.... I'm going to try to be as open. as not cynical... as kind and respectful in the investigatory process as humanly possible.... enjoy whatever comes.... take it in...and let it go if need be....It's OK to want someone.... who doesn't.... but for me.... this can't be... and will never be....WHO I am WHAT I am..... I'm just way way to much to ever be encompassed in the reflection of someone else.
..........again
10:50 PM - 6 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Friday 12/05/2006
Objects In Space..
I saw it all, consciousness is a coffin.
I worked the door at the bar. There was a chick fight. One girl was going crazy, trying to hit people. She had to go, I told her she had to go, she planted her feet, and said " I aint going nowhere" I had to drag her out. The entire bar applauded. Then she called the cops and told them thee had been a knife fight, and that she was attacked and that some people were being held against their will. Dozens of police showed up, a fire engine, a patty wagon, an ambulance. I explained it all to the cops. It was quite the ordeal, that one bitch can cause so much of a stir.
Hmmm... I thought...I wonder is this all really some cosmic metaphor for life itself.. the tribulations we endure?
Probably not. Likely there is no life, there is no metaphor, there are no tribulations. More likely there is nothing. Nothing at all. Only coffins.
I saw them all tonight, like drunken fairies.. dancing prancing.. drinking.. shaking their goods about. Last Summer... Oh how I needed this bawdy show... so lonely... so abandoned and half alive. Before I understood. There is nothing but alone... Samsara is always a bawdy dance... nothing but folks. And the sharks bite... with those teeth dear... and there they are... beautiful female bodies.. every where... touching and blinking.... at me. I will always exist.. because I always exist. Damn good too. It didn't matter.. they don't matter. They are coffins. Beauty is a coffin. Love is a coffin. All of it. Death by fire. I just didn't care... I don't care... It occurred to me.. that they are simply objects in space. nothing more.. nothing less. Objects floating in a sea of space-time. with a half life.. a shelf life.. already in a state of decay. It doesn't matter. I don't want them anymore.
Give me substance or give me the quiet embrace of solitude. Give me depth or give me a soliloquy. Let me sing my own song, and if there is a sub atomic harmonic frequency...a matching breath and thought.... than it will join me... or I will have nothing at all.
Am I crazy? Yes.. it was clinging that made me that way.
Am I an idealist? Yes.... but it doesn't matter... we all go away in the end just the same
Am I mercenary... a false pragmatist.? Listen.. I keep telling you.... none of this matters... we are all just little sparkles of energy.. glowing briefly...
poof poof poof.
Objects in space.
Coffins.
3:26 AM - 4 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Thursday 11/05/2006
I'll have another
Drinking a glass at the bar and thinking about the last woman I dated. How the last day we had together was over at that table there and how memorable it was. Then I remember this other one who had seemed so similar to me, and how we had played it out at that same table and the other one I had such strong feelings for after the wife left, but never dated having our first conversation at that table and how she was so much like the wife, in some ways and how this last one was so much the exact opposite from the wife in some ways and there were others I can recall that sat there too. Then I realize there should be some realization from these thoughts of this table and such. So I look inside scratch my head fiddle around uncomfortably take a deep breath imagine the lips of every woman I have ever known and write this poem, but still come up with nothing.
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Wednesday 10/05/2006
All The Girls I Loved Before
Ah...
Curse of the poet.... to feel. It is said that the poet experiences pain and love and suffering and beauty... just like everyone else.. only with more profound an understanding of such things. A deeper grasp. I once read that there was a specific German word for the suffering of the poet... I can't remember it.... but it had to do with the poet's longing for the world the way it should be.... rather than the way that it actually is.
I've always had this longing nostalgia for past romantic encounters. Lovers.... meaningful relationships...flings..trysts...unspoken crushes... all of it really. As much as I am confounded and maddened by the nature and behavior of the female... I can't help it seems, but to love them. Even the ones that dashed my hopes and tore apart my heart, even the terrible whores and angry lunatics.... with the passing of time...seem to invoke this slightly melancholy but grateful nostalgia. After all... they were all beautiful and wonderful beyond compare.... at least for a while...weren't they?
Upon pondering my recent experiences...one can hardly help but have the mind cast itself back. Today, while eating Chinese Buffet and reading X-men Comics.. a ritual that keeps me sane, I was treated to the background music, I suppose chosen by the friendly manager than greets me by name, and was very sad not that long ago...to hear about my divorce. There was a memorable all Jazzy instrumental Star Spangled Banner thing... interesting... I thought...while sweet and sour-ing my mushrooms and egg foo young. But then at the table... I heard... something familiar from my youth...a voice I'd heard many many times in the atmosphere of my younger days... a soothing rough but beautiful voice....that of Willie Nelson. I could probably name at least 6 or more songs that would instantly fill me with nostalgia.... but a youthful saddened nostalgia... not this romantic type. But what I heard today was... "TO ALL THE GIRLS I LOVED BEFORE" and because I was already half way there... as the slow montage of smiling mental images floated through my minds eye of... wel.....all the girls I loved before.... I REALLY heard the words...I mean.. maybe I'd heard them before... but perhaps it has taken me this journey... this time... this many..all the way up through the divorce to the most recent date...to HEAR the words....and yes... I cried a little today..... at the buffet.... thinking of them all...
And because SO SO many females that I have known in the past have found their way to Myspace in the last year (A VERY odd occurrence indeed...)...and MAY actually read this.... who knows.... I'll post the lyrics below.... (I seriously can't even tell when I'm kidding around any more...) And to all my dude friends out there... READ this.... REALLY READ this...and tell me.... tell me it doesn't make you tear up a bit.. missing them all.... even the terrible ones... just a little bit...
SO to you... My ex girlfriends...trysts...dates... flings...decent make out sessions... unrequited crushes I was too lame to pursue....and those that shared their precious beautiful space just for a bit... and loved me... even if not well... or well enough...to you I dedicate this song... (and if anyone wants to type me a 3 line email saying... I remember you fondly as well.....that might be pretty cool.........)

To All the Girls I've Loved Before- ( Willie Nelson.... Oh and Lets not forget Julio...that guy was a gas...)
To all the girls I've loved before Who travelled in and out my door I'm glad they came along I dedicate this song To all the girls I've loved before To all the girls I once caressed And may I say I've held the best For helping me to grow I owe a lot I know To all the girls I've loved before The winds of change are always blowing And every time I try to stay The winds of change continue blowing And they just carry me away To all the girls who shared my life Who now are someone else's wives I'm glad they came along I dedicate this song To all the girls I've loved before To all the girls who cared for me Who filled my nights with ecstasy They live within my heart I'll always be a part Of all the girls I've loved before The winds of change are always blowing And every time I try to stay The winds of change continue blowing And they just carry me away To all the girls we've loved before Who travelled in and out our doors We're glad they came along We dedicate this song To all the girls we've loved before To all the girls we've loved before Who travelled in and out our doors We're glad they came along We dedicate this song To all the girls we've loved before

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Tuesday 09/05/2006
The 10 things generic style..
I was thinking here...about the 10 things post...a few of my friends have posted.... it goes as follows:
10 things you want to say to 10 people The rules:
- List 10 things you want to say to people but know you never will.- Don't say who they are, use people only once.- All who read this must post the same in their own journal. (Optional)
Well first let me say... that I KNOW I was on at least one friends...and possible another one or 2....so for that let me say that I REALLY appreciate it...if what you said was nice... I can always use the positive feedback...and if maybe not AS much...well...at least you care enough that you worry about me doing something not right.... so thank you... for being a friend and for caring... it would be REALLY easy to have no friends in this world... no one to care one way or the other.... so its all good.... which brings me to my point..I DON"T let just anyone in....well ...sometimes I do and regret it...but usually if you are a friend.. I honestly believe you to have value in some way... if I have something nice to say... I've probably said it.. I'm pretty good with that...in fact when dating I have to sometimes be careful.. being pegged as "too nice" whatever the hell that means... and as far as critique.... on your life... choices. Decisions.. behavior...actions...art.. Well... I'm struggling with the idea here of having compassion and perspective....I make a lot of decisions ....live my life in a way...that is an attempt to be true to my nature. My own unique being... I'm not always good at it...I frequently make errors in judgment... but as I get older... I learn to pick myself up... brush myself off.. and continue moving forward in the struggle to find my OWN truth...a truth that is unique to me... maybe different from my friends...certainly different than a LOT of people in our culture. Many of my friends... have been there when I have fallen.... a time or 2... a little or a lot....sometimes they help me up in some small way. That's kind of what it's all about..so... for one thing, they deserve the freedom to make mistakes...same as me....and for another... maybe somethings I see as mistakes.. aren't.... it's just them struggling to be true to their own nature...which is different from my own...see? So friendship...is really tricky... sure, it involves caring and being there to offer helpful advice... but it also involves knowing when to shut up and be non-judgmental and just accept your friends differences.
Then on the other hand... as I was saying to my writer buddy.. yesterday.... in my most frustrated manner.... most of it is so relative it really doesn't matter.... sometimes.. it just seems all the world like we.... the humans in our culture...are nothing but a marauding set of impulses... pinballs of sorts...bumping and banging around into one another driven by little more than base instincts....directed by these thousands of unconsciouss processes...and everything is all about our mothers.. or childhood fears... or desire for ego recognition... or acceptance...yadda yadda...all that...bumper car robotic automotons..beep beep beep.... so REALLY ... in that respect... isn't EVERY SINGLE BIT of all of our judgment and advice.. opinions and ideas...just a bunch of hot air.... so much gas? I mean aren't we all playing out the exact same play.... in a slightly different form.... action reaction...small plot twist... different character names....sometimes the hero.. sometimes the villain....it's all untimatly less than nothing....just electrons spinning around and bumping into one another.....with the pretence of volition and consciousness... so really, is what anyone is doing really ever any better than what anyone else is doing? It's all part of the play.... all looking for whatever it is that we don't have.... sometimes winning...sometimes losing....endlessly...It's hard to care sometimes at all...
Anyway....
Considering BOTH of these positions... rather than picking out my 10 people to speak words of wisdom, advice, or condemnation to.... I think I'm jus going to make a generic one size fits all Mad Lib style bit.... so this is for YOU... my good friend... my close associate... my drinking buddy....fellow poet...former lover...crush....whatever...
DEAR ________, I WANT TO THANK YOU, FOR HAVING BEEN A PART OF MY LIFE. IN THE_______ THAT I HAVE KNOWN YOU, YOU HAVE ADDED______ TO MY LIFE AND I AM GLAD THAT WE CHOSE EACH OTHER TO BE______ THAT TIME WE MET AT______... WASN'T THAT UNFORGETTABLE?. I BELIEVE THAT ALL OF THE PEOPLE WE LET INTO OUR LIVES HAVE SOMETHING VALUABLE TO ADD, SOMTHING TO TEACH US IN ONE WAY OR THE OTHER. WITH US, I HAVE ALWAYS ENJOYED________ AND IT'S COOL THAT WE SHARE_________.
MY ADVICE TO YOU IS TO BE TRUE TO YOURSELF NO MATTER WHAT, IN THE END IT'S ALL ANT OF US HAVE. I KNOW THAT ______ MEANS A LOT TO YOU, AND THAT WHEN YOU DO _______ IT REALLY MAKES YOU FEEL LIKE YOU ARE ON THE RIGHT TRACK... SO YOU SHOULD______ AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE, AFTER ALL, WE ONLY LIVE ONCE. NOW I KNOW THAT RECENTLY YOU HAVE BEEN HAVING SOME PROBLEMS WITH________..AND THAT A LOT OF THAT COMES FROM_______ THAT HAPPENED TO YOU BACK WHEN YOU WERE _________. HOWEVER, YOU DO HAVE THE STRENGTH TO OVERCOME THIS, AND TO PREVALE AND TO BE THE BEST _______ YOU CAN. I HAVE FAITH, JUST KEEP ON________ AND ALWAYS TRY TO KEEP_______ IN YOU HEART AND______ IN YOUR MIND. LIFE IS TRICKY, SOMETIMES A STRUGGLE, AND SOMETIMES A JOY BUT AS LONG AS THOSE OF US WHO_______ KEEP ON________ AND REMEBER OUR FELLOWS KINDLY EACH DAY WITH COMPASSION, RESPECT AND CONSIDERATION..._______ WILL WORK OUT... ONE WAY OR THE OTHER. AGAIN THANKS FOR LETTING ME BE YOUR FRIEND, I APPRECIATE IT.
p
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Tuesday 09/05/2006

yes... yes I am

Drunk.

Drunk.. unreasoningly..unreasonably intoxicating ly drunk..
fucking motherfucking deep inside purpousfully drunk..
ok....so here is the thing...
fuck you.
fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.
goddamit fuck you
and fuck me
seriously..even more ..
fuck it all
fuck eveybody and everything
fuck it
fuck it
fuck it
there is less truth in all of this
there is less truth in all of you
there is less truth in you
in you
than the deepest darkest shadow
in a forgotten corner of nothing
and even less in me...
fuck you
and fuck all things that seems like things
when there are never really things
at all.

12:52 AM - 3 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment
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Wednesday 03/05/2006

Ill-intent

She stands waiting for the elevator doors to open , casting shadow images rectangular, spindly, dark tarantula on polished cement floor. Odd, I thought, always shades of pink or lightest of blues yet, casting that ebon foreboding arachnid shade at least I saw it there. And she wore the face she presented to the world. The smile that seemed casual but only at first glance until the forced nature of it all became recognizable. She was even using her slowed down syllable technique, practiced and purposeful, utilizing the repetition of a persons name, to feign genuine interest, even with her sister.Waiting there with her attorney, she seem uniquely unaware of her nature. That of Shiva, and of the spider. Metal detectors. Hustling misery. With the disjointed casualness of a bored death camp guard checking his watch for shift change. Her game face nodding Going on, about how her son so badly wanted a puppy. As if that was actually something there in that moment. As if somehow it was nothing the opening of those elevator doors The abandonment of history. The unwitting predator, walking straight and tall leaving prey hiding gasping shaking In a peripheral left-hand corner waiting for the next ride up

Currently reading: A Brief History of Everything By Ken Wilber Release date: By 06 February, 2001

6:15 PM - 5 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

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Thursday 27/04/2006

All Sunshine all the time..

It can't be all sunshine all the time... really.. the ass would explode... hot.. unwieldy
Actually.... everything is OK... I'm still finding my balance... I just have to remember that in finding this.... based on my inner strength... inner focus... equanimity.. as any real or true thing must be.. there is a truth to it. The truth that makes any balance possible. Most people in our culture... they never learn balance... equanimity....It's like a Karmic see-saw.... the fifty-fifty rule... big picture and small... they just slap their greedy asses on the ground.... all heavy on the one side...refusing to acknowledge the necessity of the balance... wanting all sunshine all the time... all good... all love no hate... all peace no war... all pleasure no pain.... all joy no suffering.... all shopping sprees no poverty....it all is what it is.... sometimes they love you... sometimes they give you grief....sometimes your as lonely as a stone sliding down a mountainside....sometimes the drunken laughing beautiful woman on your elbow makes you feel like a million bucks.
This is it... the truth of it. Big and small. Big... it will save you.... teach you to see the big picture in a better way.... suffer less.... after all suffering is just a matter of perspective... we all think we suffer more and are more oppressed than the other guy....we are always equally as secretly jealous at others suffering as we are at any relief that they find.. its all perspective...suffering is caused by desire... and proportionate to the level of it prior to the suffering. The Dali Lama gets his entire nation wiped out but the Chinese army...and says that he feels no ill will,,, Some kids get mocked in a Colorado High School....and they come in with guns and shoot the whole place up. Thats it, expectation. Learning to manage it. grabbing the joystick of volition....bam...bam... shooting that Karma... much more wisely....Is it all in the mind? Who knows.... but we must decide inside... every day... every moment.... not other people.... whether we love them or hate them..... they just are.... We find our own balance. No one else can do it....anything else is a cop out.. They owe us nothing but honestyand that only because they hope for it in return.
As far as the little picture....well.... today I had a pretty shitty day.... but hey... I had a good string of nice productive happy days recently...whattaya want?
Before I let myself slip into sleep tonight... I will let the day slip away....and tomorrow will be a new field... mines and flowers.....
I let myself fall into an anxiety attack today...the work at the morning job was stressing me out the last 2 days... for some reason... usually it doesn't. Checking the online stuff.... My friend.... years long friend...was doing his deal... again today... it has stressed me out to many times lately..... today at work.... I let it pull me into a full anxiety attack..... this is very physically and mentally exhausting. I'm drawing the line...controlling my own reaction...and when I can't.. removing the catalyst from the field... for a bit... I'm not going to read any more of his emails, blogs, or comments... and not make my bulletins available for him to respond to. If he wants to sit down with me in a non online capacity and find a solution.... I will gladly do that as my years of friendship dictate... but until that time,,, I'm not accepting the online negativity.... lack of compassion?? whatever.... we all know that we have to watch out for our own equanimity..... in order to even be able to manifest even the least bit of genuine compassion... threatening someone elses isn't a good way to get attention...at least not the positive kind.
Then I try to hit the gym...decent.. I guess... but I really wore out to quick... possibly an effect of the anxiety attack earlier...oh well...
SO I'm at home....stressing.... I had tentative plans to go out with my female friend.... and I really wanted to. even though I was mainly just lying on the couch feeling stressed and tired.... she had to work late though.....she called... we were going to reschedule.... then she called later... and said come see her.... but then not...I don't know.... honestly I'm just not sure what the issue was... or if there even was an issue... I was ok on the couch...and should have stayed there... I DID want see her though..I ended up getting my feelings hurt.... I'm not going into detail.... Even if I wanted to . It escapes me...it was just an unfortunate cap on the day.... usually when I get that way.... in the anxiety..... not really frequent anymore... not like last Summer... I just hide.... hide away,,, no phone calls no emails... I would just workout....read... hide... but now I've got this morning job....and this female I really like and WANT to talk to when she calls.... so I gotta work it out... Pick up the phone.... leave the house..... be a human.
Tomorrow is brand new.... not all sunshine all the time. but it will rise... and it will shine. I'm going to go in and try to relax... just let it be. I'll go get my babies... and really focus on enjoying them.... really take in their love. Hopefully the female and I will talk and whatever ..will be ok.. or something... There are bumps in the road in these type of things hopefully this was just that....and I hope that my friend has the strength to pull himself out of his own suffering as well...
Its just a day man... there are plenty more.... up... down... up ...down......balance..... in the end that's all that really matters.... its not who or what or when.... It's just the balance....Its all.. days and dreams and thethings in between..
10:56 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

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Wednesday 26/04/2006

Make You Stronger

Ecce Homo, behold the man from the lips of Pontius Pilate at the trial of Jesus. Also, the title of this book by the grand German famous for proclaiming that "god is dead," an obvious metaphor unlike the chapter titles "Why I Am So Wise." and "Why I Am So Clever." Published in this book after his untimely death from syphilis which I imagined he contracted from a prostitute considering his recommendations regarding the fairer sex. His sister, badlyin need of funds, published these later ramblings. obviously not at the top of his game. An unfortunate bit of fate which I was pondering while ordering another White Russian, thousands of miles in the air, on a return flight from Germantown, Maryland where I had installed a touch screen Market Research data collection device at an HMO healthcare clinic. Equipment, much of which the miserly company president insisted I lug through the airport in canvas bags as carryon luggage, to avoid shipping cost. Ooddly, after installing the device, just beginning the staff presentation, I was stricken with a profuse nosebleed, soaking the white dress shirt, and purple tie. Bloodstains which now dried, I stared at drunk and tired, as the airplane pilot, walking down the isle, smiled and tipped his cowboy hat at me. He wasnt a real cowboy, but that didnt bug me, everyone needs a shtick. My own was wearing thin; Blood splattered Market Research secret poet drunk and reading Neitzsche on an airplane. I was worn then, really, really worn, barely alive staring long into the void, fighting monsters and walking tightropes. I heard Captain Cowboys booming Hollywood voice. We were coming in for a landing. He called us "buckaroos" and told us to all be kind to one another, and to eat vegetables, or something like that. And something about flying into the sunset. It was all a little hazy by then. I remember distinctly the feeling that I was going to die Not there, on that plane, in that moment, but that before long, the times I was living in the life I had somehow unreasoningly fallen into, would kill me. But it didnt. It didnt kill me No, it didnt kill me at all, and nothing else has since.

6:24 PM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment -
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Wednesday 26/04/2006

Panther Panther talk to me.. tell me of my inner needs... oh oh
Tonight.
Another nice fun night. I seem to be taking it all in stride more of late. Just being in the be all of the bee. All. and all.
Well... MOST all of the kids that said that they were going to meet me at the Black Dog tonight didn't....shame shame... BUT I'm still gald I went and had the fun fun I did did...huh?
TJ Janice and I... went and had some pasta for dinner before..very good... very good company.... like I said yesterday... good to have good friends... I sometimes feel like this comedic tragedy... the people I know... that I feel close to... that I can confide in.....we have all been through so so so so so so much shit....lived and breathed and survived... yet we come out with a sense of humor...cynicism sure... but still a sense of humor.... which is seemingly indicitive of some deep hidden optimism.... or perhaps I'm reaching.....perhaps not...so many seem so destroyed... or so stuck in the mire of it all... yet my dears.... we laugh.... tempt it.... I mean what else is there... we all seem to still love... not well mind you... and not wisely.... but love none the less.... which is something...eh..
Dinner was nice... very nice.
I REALY enjoyed hanging out with TJ and Janice... It's great to have people who make you feel so comfortable...
Then we went west... to the Dog... as I say no one from Arlington showed... BUT there was this unusual huge FW crowd.... I read my new stuff... not my top performance... but I'm back and forth...sometimes the spoken word artist... sometimes more the poet... I've been feeling the poet lots more lately.... lots more.... and it seemed to go well... my recent words... to resonate.... the ears were receptove to the ideas tiny and large that I was channeling... it was very good.... good indeed... I promoted DFWOM big time.... talked to people... passed out the cards... all cool..
OH OH OH OHO OH!!!! and how about this.... my girl... the one I've been enamoured with of late... actually called me on the bar phone.... to late to make it out.... but she called and said hi.... I was so very moved... so pleased... TJ said I smiled drunkenly for an hour after....really it was sweet and very welcomed....still I am missing her company... but hearing her voice... calling there.... well, it made it much much nicer...she needs a heartfelt hug and a kiss ....when next we meet...
THEN... back to Caves for a bit...... the music night.... lots of nice people.... home base... handed out more cards.... socialized.... networked.... good stuff....drinks...
I need to sleep now.... work in the morn...I am tired and thinking kindly of the female...
a nice evening indeed...
may you all be free of stress and sufferng..... and may peace compassion and equanimity be yours...

1:15 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

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Tuesday 25/04/2006

Honduras has no roads so take a friend to dinner...
It's late, but I feel the need to type this real quick beforet he feeling slips away.
Gratitude... which is odd for me... for my cynical nature. after having lost everything... literally everything... 16 months ago... Tabula rasa... blank slate.. physically... socially.. artistically...financially...family....literally....
Tonight I feel a sense of gratitude for the social network that I have built up in the past year. I know I have complained on these Blogs on occasion about the unstifactory nature of it all... the "Bar friends.." Who aren't really there in other corners of life...where I am usually alone and in the headtrips... Only Bill... our poor lost Bill... who we drank a toast to tonight....was there for me... lunches... dinners... all that hanging talking.... One year plus...... When I moved back to Arlington...homeles and alone....Basically I had TJ.... and he was trying to look out for me... he took me out and together he and I fumbled through attempts to socialize... meet... talk.. interact.... trying to date... all that.....it was surreal to say the least... and there has been this huge period... not only of meeting new people.... making friends... trying to date...networking the poetry scene... but also reuniting regularly with so many Arlington people from years past... bringing me again in some small way.. a feeling of community...a feeling of belonging again.... and for the truly lost man.... this is a life saver...
Tonight at JOE POETS...very fer poets were out.... I guess most were out last week....so many stayed in... which happens... as I have been saying of late...cultivating a scene means not relying on any particular few people... but creating a larger morphing audience...SO.. we only had 3 readers including myself... and then a nice guitar player showed up late... which was cool. But there is the deal... we had a HUGE nice audience.... PLENTY of folks....faces from the bar scene... from my morning job... people I have talked to or handed out cards to.... WAY fucken cool...!!
Then most everyone went to Shine... and we drank for a few hours.... LOTS of us... lots of stories and laughs and fun... good times... a few good buddies... friends... co-workers...people interested in poetry...good conversation...
See... I'm actually feeling a litte lonley.... my girl.... the sweet female that I have been keeping company with of late... is going to be less available to me.... due to a new job situation... I hope that we can keep the unlabeled thing going.... really I do.... and as much as I have been striving to be the "play it cool guy..." I do SO enjoy her company...and it's REALLY hard not to miss that...no matter how cool it is played... SO I'm missing it... her... you know...
SO it was nice tonight... honestly my plan was to go to the MIC.... which I felt would be small...come home and watch some TV...feel a little lonley... you know.... but it's really nice that my friends showed... and really nice that we had all the laughs over drinks after....thats the gratitude.... considering where I was... 16 months ago.... having this lovely female to enjoy...even infrequently... and these great growing open mics... and these cool relaxed bonds of friendship with all these different people..... well..... its pretty nice... pretty nice...
I WAS going to stay in tomorrow..but SEVERAL people expressed and interest in going to the MIC at Blackdog...so I'm definatly going...with all the friends...HELL... even TJ left a message today... saying he might go....before all this.... it will be great to see him... tomorrow as well... too bad he wasn't there tonight....and the girl...yeah... yeah....
.
1:19 AM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

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Saturday 22/04/2006

walking through dust

And when Im drunken channeling the way I do in the bravado she holds my hand walking beside me rather effortlessly. I notice that her eyes are much more moist than most. She asks what that means. I have no answer. Sometimes we whisper at one another. Usually close up. There are scrunchy funny faces. Recently she let me talk on endlessly Im not sure why. Usually I like to listen a little more. There are all these moments in parking lots. And in cars. And in the deep of night. Hanging on the ends of sentences. In lost embrace. On telephones. That weird thing where the bar is crowded but she, by merely sitting there holds my attention. There are all these moments see, they are unfettered. and alive. I cant quite figure it all out. But there is something. Yes something. Absolutely something.

12:33 AM - 6 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

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22/04/06

From the O to the C down to A-town

At the first stop, there is this black dude, who opens the locked doors to let you in, a young guy. He says "Man! do you work as a bodyguard or something?" I had changed into a tank top, because it was warm. I had been struggling for the last couple of weeks.. trying to get the workout routine back down,,, and not feeling at my best about it...not even close.... so this felt cool... really cool. I said " NO, but I did work as a bouncer at a small bar most of last year..." He responded..."Cool! If I ever make it famous in my music... I'll hire you anytime!" Actually I've heard this before...odd that everyone wants to be famous. I'll guess I'll be the one who doesn't HAVE to hire...

I grab the screaming smiling girl.. throw her in the air. She is just in underpants... the rest were wet... it was funny really. She told me all about it in that cute litte silly high voice she has now... only just beginning to really put sentences together,,, still at the point where someone that doesn't know her might not fully understand.

In the car she asks about a female friend of mine she got to meet briefly last week. appearantly leaving a positive impression... She said..." Daddy! ******** is cute! ******** is cute!" she is smiling... I say "really? You think so?" she smiles real big and says "yeah..." a bit later she says "******** come over...******** come over!" it was very sweet...

We get to the second stop... I have to get out of the car... one of the backpacks is on the roof of the school.... I ask the teachers if they may have something to get it down with... they are pretty apathetic... lucky, some kid is playing with a large tree branch nearby... I yell for him to bring it over...I get the backpack down..
The middle child was in trouble on the bus....no clear story as to the details.

In the car he says " On my birthday.. I want a cake with Oprah.... and can she be nekkid"... laughing.. I wonder if this might be the bus trouble.

The oldest is mostly good... but I get a headache anyway.... the ride seems long..and loud....my throat hurts
We are eating spagetti..

5:20 PM - 6 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

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The Passion

The scab of night is torn like
the veil of the temple, forsaken
by the creator of all wounds
hemorrhaging desert sand.

Sometimes when
you
squeeze up so tight, arms
embracing another human form
unable to sleep
except sporadically,
even a silly snore is more
than welcomed.
Blending with the sounds
of your own deep breathing
tears now repressed so deep
they fill the lungs, never touching
the face.

Eyelids flutter,
and the scent of the tiny wisp of hair,
itchy but
still you want it there,
smells like cherries
or some such atypical thing.

So you just lie there
wound like a clock.
Feeling all the world like
a field mouse.
A tiny helpless one.
Even though you are so much larger,
arms like wrapping crane machines.
While she sleeps, resplendently,
a tiny elusive fragile sculpture
fashioned of flesh and blood
and dreams that sometimes spill
from her moist eyes.

She comes from a music box.
and is always spinning.
dancing bewildering blur..

It's been so long, forsaken
golgotha lonely.
absent the passion.

It's been so long, you think,
remembering the knife like blades of grass
sharp and curving as
Scimitars rising from the earth,
that she shook her head at and erased
not really understanding
your journey
through blood and sand.

Still, it's a whole lot better
being a fieldmouse with a rapid heartbeat
and painful memories
than a lonely bleeding martyr
left hanging there.

And a beautiful woman held close
is more like resurrection
than pretty much anything else.

7:33 AM - 7 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

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Sunday 16/04/2006

As the night was

SO.... I worked a fill-in door shift at Caves tonight.... I really am glad that I did. I handed out quite a few DFWOPEN MICS cards....promote! promote! And it was really nice being back there in that capasity for a night...after a few weeks away from it...especailly I guess... as a fill in....see..... a couple of things. a certain change in perception was really bugging me for a while there... really stressing me out when I was up there closing... it felt really good to be free of that stress... even though I really missed being at Caves in that capasity... in a lot of ways... but I found that tonight... even though those things are unchanged... being on fill-in duty...well.... I just don't have the emotional buy in... no feeling of attachment to the thing...so it was all good and stress free again...like old times...even if unchanged... I really hope that other people ask me on occasion to fill-in some more... a few times a month or something...it was nice...
Plus... the dames were really freaking hitting on me tonight....I mean that used to happen sometimes... but tonight being back for one night,, it was pretty freaken hardcore.... I'm NOT kidding... I got slipped phone numbers... complemnets... the whole bit...very strange... Hell, maybe it was the new shirt I bought yesterday... or I was kinda thinking that my hair looked cool... I dunno...
The kids are here... asleep... not for much longer.... I'll get to be with them some more tomorrow... really really cool
And... one of my friends.... a long time friend..... dammit.... he seems to be hurtng and lashing out.... I don't know what to do.... I feel like I'm being dragged in along with everyone else....it sucks and it's stressful.... what I really want to do is just sit him down and be there.... like he has been for me in the past.... let him know... that even though he is a son of a bitch at times... I love him and he has been an important part of my life... a valuable part... for quite a while....*sigh*
and the kind of dating girl....there seems to be some challenges... I'm just not sure...I KNOW that I like her a whole whole bunch.... and I really enjoy her company....but.... there seems to be some things and people as obsticles..I'm just not sure....isn't that always how it is though... she said yesterday that I confused her.... I'm not sure why... the feeling is mutual though.....huh....she really is a pretty damn kick ass chick though.....
g'night... or morning.....shit...

4:16 AM - 2 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment
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Friday 14/04/2006

the code... the way his nose sloped back then and her as a flicker in the sun
Am I not a mad genius. Am I not the claw of a cat. Am I not a grain, a tinty tiny grain.. of cosmic sand.. caught in an etheral spiritus mundi Machine. Do I echo in the flapping desest birdwings of Yeats. Am I not a slouching beast. Do I not know joy. Akm I not a dayglo yo yo in the hands of a lonley Chineese boy. Am I not lost. DO I sing, sing ,sing, alone. AM I not alone. Is it too much my wants.. my crestfallen desires.. to be and to be and to have another understand me. Am I not a broken promise. Unchewed gum... ( thank you doll... I borrowwed the line... the drink has taken me...) DO I not stumble and sometimes fall. AM I not a giant aching heartache and acre wide, that aches and aches. A I not the Alibaster dream of legends come to pass. Fruition of the golden mean. AM I not the fool, anting the female to be simply the female. Only the best that it is.. nothing more, minus all the modern adaptations. Seen in the movie house. throwing up. Cheesecake. Larry Fine. A Fine Violinest forced to be whacken in the head for the remainder of his life. For money. during the depression. He was depressed. You could see it in his eyes. Am I not formed from Anti-matter. I have the Goatee... I must already be... the evil version of myself. Am I not the only version, a quantum singularity. Exploding im my own space. Privately, shielded by the apathy of others. Am I not the foddr of my friend... who smim in calling out to me ads they melt down in circumstances of their own. Setriously... fuck off man. Look at the man in your own eyes.... hald believer. Beaver Cleaver. Yas... I'm talking about you. Baby boomer. Mushroom cloud. AM I not deserving of even more. Me, my fate and balls of twine. Intwined with feminine... the female. Strickly speaking, unspoken. A woman, she spoke to me of levels. And I wanted to put my lips against hers to make ger stop. I just wanted to enjoy her as long as she would let me. If she would let me long, I might enjoy her long. If she lets me short, I 'll take it. After all, we are all... on the road to nowhere... I just want to grab some truth,,, and some real words,, and the female form along the way. I once held the idea of permanance. Impermanance was my reward. I just don't know. If you walk away in silence I will be torn... like the veal of night, But I will walk away in silence. Circumspect, in circumstance. Always circumventing, Circular. AM I not truth exploding. Do you not ant to sing into my ear. Are my batwings exposede. Do I dash about like a rodeo clown. $0 Grand... why not. Its no worse than the rst of it..and a bit more staraight foreward. Are there rodeo Clown groupies.. do they get major tail... 'm not finnish... but I have wishes. I want to blow out your candles... make you foreget. Can you live inside the confines of a moment with me... do I miss you alrqdy... not even sure if you are gone. Tell me you want me. There are no levels. Exerything is just what it is... it unfolds this way... or that way... and we ride it or we fight it.. I just wat to look into your eyes. Check me out. Im doing the thing. The drunken thing. eyesballs exploding. No levels. Just thinking of you. I enjoy you. thats all. Upon the heads of kings. Templers Treasure. Comfort as a bad thing... Comfort is a good thing,, the universe is so uncomfortable as a rule,,, we should tale it like and unexpected dollar... on the ground... found betwen 2 cars.. in the parking lot... of Eckards. Am I not my own marching band. So I not crackle and fizz. Do I not eat bear Claws. Catspaws. Slowers. A single red rose. Am I not the wind. Do I drink excessivly. Am I burnt toast...am I ebven here. I'm not sure I can cry anymore. Im not sure I' can chase any more... I kow I can love... or even just like a lot... I'm just not sure I can chase, AM I not sudden autonomy. Am I not standuing here weping letters upomn a keyboard. Do I not have the blood of ansestors in my veins. AM I not asleep already.. even now as the moment grows silent, the lights grow dim.. and I am left speaking only to my self, again. Chicken wire around my heart and breain. Am Inot simply the next breath, and the one after that, and after that.

12:13 AM - 14 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

2006-04-12T23:33:00.000-05:00

Labryrinth

The Minotaur
Son of Poseidons white Bull
Lived in a Labyrinth
and feasted on children
until beaten to death in his sleep.

Theseus the hero who killed him
Poseidons son murdered many a man and beast
on the road to fame.

Pasipha, bewitched,
had Daedalus the inventor
build her a hollow wooden bull
with a Vagina hole
for the great white Bull
to fuck her through.

Minos, Her Husband the King
imprisoned Deadalus
and his only son Icarus
In the Labyrinth he had created.

They built wax wings to fly away
But Icarus flew to high
and his were melted
by the heat of the Sun.

We are all touched by the divine.
All of us.

Heroes and monsters
sex fiends and genius's
perverted by circumstance.
Trapped in Labyrinths
or busy escaping them.
Killing beasts
Fucking them
or becoming them.

Or having become enamored
with the escape
lying charred and broken
fallen
upon the ground.

2006-04-12T23:10:00.000-05:00

rday 08/04/2006

get your kicks...

Motoring Westward...not the highway thats the best.. only I30... Returning from OCCP...somewhere near 6 Flags.. glitzy glitter fluffy corpo toot. I should be less inclined to feel the satisfaction yet. It's always reminded me of home. Those giant unwieldy objects in Space and time.
Gordon Gaino... The gentleman from the Violent Femms was crooning croonishly from the much coveted CD player on my dash. I've always loved him so... his unique vocal stylings... I tried to take him in live once... many years ago. Deep Ellum.. Tom... I can't remember who else.. alas I was foolish though and did...as he sang in AMERICAN MUSIC..." I did too many druuuuugs...baaaaaaaabeeeee" so I couldnt really enjoy him then. But now here he is.. years later... on a live CD... singing about...GOOD FEELINGS..
And one comes over me... a good feeling that is.
It hits me that I'm feeling more content.... internally...spiritually perhaps.. than I have felt in a very very long time...nice....considering how very very close to the edge of it all... I had balanced.... oh not so very long long ago...searching for the me inside me and coming up empty.
Look I enjoy my cynicism... and SOMEONE HAS TO carry the weight of the world upon their shoulders...some poets...somewhere....a heady burden. and yes.. part of me is and will be still for some time...waiting..hanging on..for that apology.
So I'm not there... sitting comfy in the equanimity...as I wish to be. Not yet... not by a long shot.... uh uh... BUT... I do FEEL... better than I have in a long time...and that little bit of contentment that comes from the violent Femms Song... coming back fro one of the coolest gigs we have had at OCCP in quite some time... an out of town feature.... very good... that really packed the house... some positive motivation... good performances.. by me and the regulars... good good stuff...
I'm just finding a little satisfaction in it all of late... looking to groove in my groove again.
The morn job...well like I've said... it was a big ideological compromise... but still rather innocuous... a move backward somewhat. But at least a move in SOME direction... people are nice.... it's only part time...I actually feel headed some direction again.
I stood up to her.... this is so hard to explain... I was explaining it to Rosa earlier... she and I talk like that... My gracious venue host for nearly 8 years... explaining the interaction with the EX.. 2 weeks back... NOT that I've stood up to her... really because I have before... but before it always involved buying in... playing her game... her threats.. her yelling and screaming...setting the agenda for the big blow ups... revolving around...always her.. her...her needs...all that... SEE.. last time... I didn't buy in... I didn't play... she freaked the fuck out for several straight days...but I refused to... she pushed the buttons... the threats.. insults.... all of it... I just said no thanks...made 3 total calls... restating the situation... I didn't play the games.... the old marriage game...see I'll never be free... never ever be me... again... until I stop playing that game... the game I lost myself in for so many years...It has still been playing for months and months...even though its all separate.. lots of additional players involved... way to many voices and hurt feelings... but the game remains the same...someone has to choose not to play... this time it was me... I HOPE that I have the strength next time as well... but for now.... I've gained a certain powerful freedom from this...some emotional autonomy..
DFWopen mics... I wont go on and on here... I have before... I will again... but its adding a LOT of value to my existence again. The Poetry work...thats when I am alive and real and on it...and now I have a mission again..a purpose... and it feels good.
My recent female companion...the kind of dating one... A very pleasant experience... this striving to enjoy the thing in itself...just being and letting whatever unfolds... unfold. WE only see each other a couple of times a week... at this point...although a litter more would be cool... it is nice to... have the autonomy while still being kind of attached to somebody.. in the mind...I have a lot of stiff I'm doing...and having this type of dynamic....seems really nice... she has stuff... I have stuff... we both talk about our stuff... One of my favorite things about her...I hope that she takes this the right way... is that she is a goofball. DON'T get me wrong she is very female... sexy... enticing...al that...and publically quite well behaved.......I took her around 2 of my friends recently...and honestly it was quite quite nice... but she also has this silly funny side... she makes me laugh a lot, and I really and truly appreciate this... my seriousness level has been to high in the past year,,, for obvious reasons... it feels really good to be around this. Plus somehow... I think it makes her more capable of being accepting of my own admittedly unique eccentricities... so far.... She called me manly the other night... thats odd... I've been told I am overly sensitive too many times... it felt cool to be called manly... heh...weird. Oh..yeah....she has me actually talking on the phone... pretty frequently...and actually enjoying it.... just chatting.... I like it... she makes me feel less crazy... The cool thing....it feels like the only reason... the absolutely only reason... that we get together...is because we both just honestly enjoy each others company....it's just that simple...shouldn't it always be that simple... the enjoying of another....of course complicated weavings usually come... thats part of the human condition...attachments and aversions... all that...*sigh*....is so very nice though... to simply enjoy the hell out of another person.... just because you do...and thats all... nice... quite nice...

11:43 PM - 8 Comments - 9 Kudos - Add Comment

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Friday 07/04/2006

My so called post modern cyber life...

Myspace, it's the post modern delema at its best. Joyous disconnection connecting us all so much less so much more in terms of scale an immediacy. I'm on. check the emails. Blog subscriptions. Write a poem in a word doc post it. I notice in the meantime my Blog has been hit twice. No one on the top 8 appears to be on but the girly that has been kind enough to show me some affection of late following an online dance has a bullitin on top. So she must have been on. I make the leap assuming that it is she that has hit the Blog. a quick check reveals 2 more hits. It feels as though in this post modern way that she is near. her cyber shadow stroking the back of my head lightly while I type. Metaphorically of course. It's all metaphoric. Like emoticon smiles. the laughing out loud. the dot dot dot's and clever one liners that say more than a thousand volumes of history once did. Because we are tuned into it that's why. The joy. The post modern delema. alone but never alone. Isolated, fragments of culture desentigrating into smaller fragments of sub-culture Internet elitism online cliques millions of quantum events modem imploding. Yes post modernity at its best. and all of my friends and lovers and former lovers and fans are all kept waiting for me in tiny litte boxes. And there is always something happening always all ways.

11:05 PM - 5 Comments - 7 Kudos - Add Comment

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tossing one off

hey.. I adore you you are beautiful like a tornado touching down hard. You taste like the wind. You kiss like summer lightning bugs in jars running laughing. your words like drip drop rain aluminum roof still dark night. I cross the world inbetween days in your expressions and the corners of your smile. send me.

10:51 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

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Giri

It's barely 10:30 when
Jack and I are discussing
Poetry, of course
In the parking lot,
after the open mic.

When suddenly a slovenly voice
calls out
"Why dont you get the fuck out of the way"
3 men, early 20s departing a night at the Hooters.
"Pardon me?" I respond.
"You guys are all fucking up around my truck,
you need to get the fuck away!"
He threatens.

I walk to meet him,
the speaker of bold words,
showing the younger man my face
close-up, sure that
he will see what is in the eyes.
He's already shaking, fist clinched
breathing hard and ready to go.

Calm, clear and close,
speaking in a firm voice I say;
"Look, no one has done you any wrong,
here, obviously you feel as though
your space has been invaded
for that I offer my sincere apologies, however
I must tell you that your rudeness
toward 2 gentlemen that you dont even know
Is both uncalled for, and unacceptable."

He stands silent.
Still shaking,
with an expression so blank
It was hardly an expression at all.
Still making eye contact
I assume his silence as an ending
shrug rather dramatically
turn my back, and walk away.
Returning to Jack,
and our conversation.

Honor
or any code at all
particularly gentlemanly in nature
is so very rare in these broken days.

Sure, we are men
and circumstance may occasionally dictate violence
as last resort,
but as any man left with some of it
who has been through and around it
will tell you
There is no honor
in trading blows with fools
in parking lots

Better, to simply
conduct oneself with dignity
walk without fear
always looking lesser men
straight in the eyes.

Its not always possible,
a fact to which I can attest,
but when it is
such foolishness
should be left
to the fools themselves.

9:57 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

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Thursday 06/04/2006

Finding truth in the darkness and enjoying the sound of it..

POETRY- Man....DFW OPENMICS...has drawn such new breath within me... that every where I go. Many of the artists that I talk to...are finding my excitement infectious... I know that this is because of my own visible motivation.. to get this done.. make this really and truly happen again... bring back Open Mic Poetry to what it once was in DFW.. breathe life in it again...to take the wind out of the sails of the exclusive corners that have separated our scene... and bring the power back to the inclusive middle...I've been handing out business cards with the new Web address..and talking it up... I see it happening...yes I do.... Well the first week oft he month is half through.... and I'm slightly ill again... but I feel that I might be strong enough to fight it off this time....The Irving Festival on Saturday was OK.... but I think the organizers make some big logistical mistakes. Which hurt our audience... I was worn... the boys wore me out... so I stayed home and skipped OCCP... I heard it went fine....We missed Joes... to do the First Monday feature.... smaller than I would have hoped.. but some good networking for DFWOM....We got back and There was still a small group of readers at Joe.... I spoke to them.. Jason helped a lot...I owe him..Tuesday I stayed in.. with some nice company.. Wednesday was Mad Swirl time... Johnny is one of the most gracious coolest hosts ever... and everyone loves the Swirl... HE is hitting some growing pains though...getting so many readers... there has to be some serious time limits enforced.... so it was a little bumpy...I'm quite confident that he will have it under control next month if that many show again....I REALLY love being around everyone at the Swirl... it always fills me with such Joy...In a few hours.. tonight... I'm off to Outlaws... Its the first time I've been able to support Jack full time on this in months...since Sara left town.. she used to sit at the door for me for an hour,, on first Thursday... after that I tried to stop by for a few to support then rush back...but it was very stressful...but now that I have all of my evenings free,,, to focus on the project... I'm there tonight full time... cool. WOW... and this Weekend.... the Deep Ellum Festival.... used to be our biggest event of the year... We are all a bit disappointed that we didn't actually hear any word on time and date..ect... until Tuesday of this week... with the short notice... many of our regular OCCP people will be elsewhere.... BUT I'm really struggling to move away from promoting OCCP.... kind of a brand evolution... OCCP is kind of the root... but now we are taking what we practiced there.. and moving it to a wider scale with DFWOM...so thats what I'll promote from now on.... always DFWOM....not the individual mics under the Umbrella....reviving the scene as a whole... thats the number one goal...SO We'll probably get whoever we can for Sunday...from any of the readings....We'll see... Oh yeah... then Monday.. I'm have the meeting with they MRG at Americas best.... I'll see what he wants to do.... hopefully add one more venue to our ever growing community base...I think its all moving along nicely... I need to sit down and make a list of things to do...

* A GIRL?....OK.... SO I've been kind of dating this female. For some odd reason I've been a little more shy in Blogging about it...which is not my norm...I'm just so enjoying the situation... I guess I just didn't want to jinx it or something... silly huh. Anyhow... I'm not sure where it is going, really if it is going... or where it is... We have just decided on the "kind of dating" line... It's all very cute. Really its very odd.... she is very different we have some very different interests...and tastes...things hat I normally might be hung up on... finding these commonalities... yet.. YET... maybe there is something else.. something other than mere tastes and interests... some deeper commonalities... certain modalities of personality....feels less tactile and more emotive... quantum energy signatures...Auras... hell I don't know... I just dig her... she is sweet, and fun, and sexy, and she makes me laugh... when we hang out I really feel comfortable and enjoy myself. SO I'm practicing the practice... striving to simply be in the moment...enjoy the enjoyment... while it lasts...accept whatever comes... there is some peace in this... this mode of interacting... I feel... from struggling against expectation and attachment...a newfound comfort and freedom.... freedom to simply be myself... not something I am accustomed to... in my post marriage social experience... and honestly... not during a great portion of my marriage... She is nice.. and very hot, and I really appreciate her company....I hope that she continues to get to know me better... really... I'm having a blast... but if it doesn't work for whatever reason... I think I've found some new truth....and will take something good forward anyhow.. anyway... I'm digging it...and her....

5:19 PM - 4 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment

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Saturday 01/04/2006

The Funnest Part

It's better when I wait
for it to come upon me,
come screaming out of me
when it's ready. The words
appearing in my head, the lines
sometimes bits
sometimes fully formed
then I have to rush to write them down.

You do inspire me. There
is this emotion, I think because I thought
our next encounter would be sooner
there is this incompleteness, this
burning need to discover more
see more, taste more, feel more
it's not enough.
what I've had of you
this might be something.

You are such a sweet and
unsderstanding guy Really,
I mean this, You are so different,
in a good way, from any guy
I have ever known.
I like that about you, you are
not predicatable. Wanna sneak out later?

I really love the way you
end your notes, with a kiss, it
feels as though you are closing
your eyes, picturing me and
kissing me in your minds eye.
It makes me remember your taste
It's good
it is
so, I'm kissing you now, in
my minds eye, damn
I can't do that, just
close my eyes and
imagine you like that, I
I well, I..

12:28 AM - 6 Comments - 9 Kudos - Add Comment

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hold me tight .......

I walked into the building slowly, tired from the long drive.There at the begining of what is the warm season in Texas. It always feels warmer at first after a few months of mildness, but later of course... the 80's would seem refreshingly cool. But today, I was stressed and sweaty in the seat of my pants. I'd been finding a strange equanimity of late, a calmness, and dispite the tornado of Karma.. a lot quite bad... but some sublimely good.. I had remained pleasantly balanced. Responding in a well thought manner to most things. I had made some small decisions. Had some brutal conflict forced upon me. Avoided some big conflict of the other type purpousely.. and rather effectively. and I think, rather impressed a lady who kissed like a lady ought to kiss... with the whole feel of balance..which is cool, becasue that is my true nature and it had been some time since it had shone through the muck of it all.

Today though, in the building, the stress was back. Oddly, just the driving there had caused the imaginary arguements. The ones that happen in the car out loud when no one else is around. The ones where I get angry and say all the things to the person I want to say them to, things about hurt and pain and what isn't fair. Things that need to be said to someone who will likely never let me say them. It seems just the act of driving over there itself is what brings this out, upsets the balance. But now I was looking foreward to seeing her here. The best of hers.The smiling beautiful her. I was worried though. Would there be a revenge plot. To keep her from me. Some big ordeal. I didn't think so, but angar makes some people do strange things, and there was certainly no shortage of irrationality around here.

Forgetting where she had been.. it had been 2 weeks, and the were always changing the rooms up. I walked into the last one.. they were out and her bag wasn't there..so I started to worry.

But then, I walked into the next room, and there she was. Our eyes met. She stared long into mine. 1....2 ...3...4...5.. her smile grew as large as her face. She rose to her feet and ran with full abandon to me. Thrusting her arms out..I grabbed her hard and pulled her up into the air. Her arms grasping my neck, perhaps harder than they ever have before. She squealed, really squealed, and held and held and held. I heard her voice... laughing...daddy.....daddy...daddy.... daddy...and she held me tight around my neck and wouldn't let go for the longest time. It had been a long hard 2 weeks. She had missed me it seems.. as much as I had missed her. And all the hispanic women stood and watched and smiled as tears ran down my cheeks, real ones. I'm not complete without her. And she without me... at least for now...someday...sure... but for now... she holds me tighter... and loves me more.. than any other person alive.

5:33 PM - 5 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

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Thursday 30/03/2006

Barking bees inside my heart to squeeze

* Lemon
* just in from the gym.....probably the best workout... burn and metabo...as far as achieving reps and weight... that I've had in the last few weeks...so that's good.... BUT I am still nowhere near my pre birdflu levels... man this is frustrating... I don't feel like it should be taking this long to get my strength back... hell, I was only down completely for 10 days or so... but with the strength... it's kind of a cycle... with the reps too I guess....you build up day by day week by week to certain levels... there is something that's maintained in the muscle.. something that powers it... that's not there when one is sedentary.. I learned this during the manual labor job a couple of years back... this consistency factor.... I know this.. it will come but it's frustrating.... It feels like it took me well over a year of day in and day out to build it....and only a couple of weeks to lose it.... even though I know it's not lost... it will be back... it just feels that way...
* Well... I'm off the schedule at Caves.... does that mean I'll never work there again?... I hope not... I have mixed feelings... I really love Caves... it has been important to be... not only for the 10 months I've worked there... but hanging out there before that... making my first sad post separation attempts at socialization and dating... wow... what a year this has been.. I feel like emotionally and spiritually I was thrown way the hell backwards into my own past development.... WAY back... in many ways I had to relive and remake nearly all of the same mistakes...live through all the same foolishness all over again ... that I did in my youth... it's surreal to think about.... this past 16 months.... I really miss Caves already.... the easy socialization.... no need to make an effort to keep up with my friends.... just go sit at the little table.. and conversation will come... females will come... no effort... everyone that works there is truly nice...SO I miss it...but like I said there are mixed feelings... I have just grown so overwhelmingly tired of being up until 4 in the morning....even 2 days a week.... bleh... like I've said before the ... time just became longer and longer as different perceptions of what the part time position consisted of came about.... and it was slowly bothering me more and more... the increasing lateness...and I SWORE to myself...when I started working there... that no matter what, I would stop if something started getting to me... so that I could retain the bar as a social location...and have nothing but warm fuzzy feelings there...so in that line... this was the right thing....ALSO.... I REALLY feel the drain from the extra emphasis on the poetry work... MORE and MORE stuff...I have such high hopes for the DFW Open mics concept... I'll talk more in a min... the thing is... I'm up to doing something like 12 readings a month... give or take... depending one the month...regular stuff... features... hosting...all of it....getting back to where I WAS years ago... THIS is what makes me happy..... THIS is what makes me whole... complete... this is ME following my bliss.. nothing else is... only this.....SO in weighing the value... I NEED to take the energy....physical, emotional, spiritual, actual... and direct it toward poetry.... instead of working the door... in the long run I'll be happier that I did... sure I lose a few dollars ( and the cance to hit on so many broads..)... I do need money... but I have to make the bigger decisions based on who I am... what makes my life have value....and that is ALWAYS poetry work...still.... that being said... I WOULD love to still fill in.... still be able to work at Caves on a call in .. or fill in basis... that WAS discussed when I spoke about being off the schedule.. I seriously really hope I do get to do this... just to stay a part of the scene there... in fact if I hadn't been put under a little pressure to ADD a day... I'd probably still be there now on my 2 normal days... hemming and hawing back and forth in my head about weather or not I should ask to be off the schedule...as I had been for a couple of weeks...so that's it... I HOPE I can be back in there again here and there... but for the moment I feel really happy about being free all evenings to do poetry...to relax and hang out on the nights that I'm not...and to have the option of just getting my ass in bed and catching up on sleep before having to get up and go to the morning job...so all is good.
* As much as I despise admitting this...the morning job does seem to have put me in a better mind frame... more positive....I hate the way that sounds... as if some corporate job affects my sense of identity...my sense of self meaning and well being...I remember my father saying months back... that I'll start feeling better about life.. the future..ect... when I'm working regular again... I thought that was the stupidest thing I had heard... HELL...working at all those shitty corporate jobs year after year... day after day... to support the succubus that is my ex wife... HELL.... that's what put me in such a dismal situation to begin with....created this dark nihilistic outlook....WELL... true... true.... it's just that sometimes a LOT of stress and negativity comes from the feeling of being stuck between things... of being in this hole and not able to climb out.... of looking forward and seeing nothing but darkness... that's where I have been for quite some time.....I had the one idea... the weight lifting.... and training cert....(still not finished... damn there is a fucking lot do to get this particular one....) but it seems far off at best.. if possible..Taking this corporate job.... this cubicle situation again...after so long of swearing never again.... well it WAS a big deal... a big sacrifice philosophically....even the " only temporary" thing... well that doesn't really help me... I spent years in only temporary.... I HATE those words. BUT... it is... and it's NOT the only thing I have happening.... there are at least 2 other things... so...it does feel good to be moving forward again...even if its a matter of moving backwards to do it.. kind of like when your car is stuck in the mud...
* DFW OPEN MICS... man I really want to explain here all about this... ( I'll try.. but I'm sure it will take me several more blogs to do it justice...) how much hope I have for it...where I see it maybe going in a few years... if we are lucky.... how much positive energy this concept.... not just the concept.... but the mission statement of the concept.... is generating in me. The other night.... hosting Joe Poets.... with a nice good-sized crowd of mostly young people.... explaining the concept... the mission.... to take POETRY.... the open mic... back to the community level... to generate buzz... and bring people back in...make it all accessible again me.. up there... on my mark.... reading at my level... and bringing all the new young people into a situation that is open and supportive of there efforts.. again... encouraging...it was an epiphany... with Jack and Andy there beside me... I was right where I needed to be... all of it all of it had led me back full circle to where I was... and where I need top be again... this open mic Shaman... that so many remember me as from all of those years ago.... this is who I was meant to be... my true self.... I REALLY wish Opal had been there that night....but she will...she has committed to hosting once a month....and she will feel it to... everyone will LOVE her all over again....LIKE THE OLD DAYS!!! see.... it's not just about the community.... that's altruism... and I'm serious about it...... but what I'm doing is recreating the atmosphere... the scene... where Opal will be truly loved and appreciated again... like she once was...and she will feel it too... I think she already is a little... that when she is standing there in her light... true self shining.... the rest.... all the rest will be better too.... I want her to be happy again... not just me... but her... and Jack... and all the poets... to get what they really really need... I need Neal back out... Dick... Gordon in the mid cities more... Joey and Jolee getting out further away.... Mad swirl Johnny and Chey and Lisa... Where is WBM3? I need Fort Worth poets willing to get out of Fort Worth sometimes .... and...to feel it.... and for the new poets to feel it... those writing in secret for years... too shy to bring it out... too afraid that they will be judged.. that no one will be there to support them... encourage them... to have what WE had back in the mid 90's... when we started out... before it was all literary critics and slam hip hoppers....For US to touch lives again... and for the lives we touch... it is coming... hell it is already here.
Oh yeah. Check out the new domain I've already ordered business cards with it

http://www.dfwopenmics.com

4:11 PM - 11 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

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Sunday 26/03/2006

BLINDSIDED:

So I'm sitting there, talking to Barbara. a friend that I have known for many years....from back in the Zombies scene days. We are having a...well what I felt to be a wonderful time. Talking much of old times. Of recent trials and changes, plans, hopes. Etc. Another girl had joined us at the table... the wife of one of the guys in the band, a friend of Barbara's. Very nice girl, had a few drinks a bit talkative...very sweet. Andy's band was playing, it was getting late around 1:15 or so. there were friends near.. In fact I had come up at Opalina's urging, she and Carlos were within sight at a nearby table. It was quite nice, a feeling I hadn't had for months. Barbara seemed to have something on her mind that she wanted to talk about. She asked her friend... (T Name..) if she and I could speak privately...she said sure... and stood... unfortunately I NEVER had the chance to hear any more.
At this exact moment. completely and totally unannounced I am blindsided....... A person...I hesitate to use the word man... because a man has honor... this garbage has none.. jumped me...completely by surprise... and started slugging me in the head. Let me be utterly clear... there was NO warning, no announcement, no challenge, no accusation... NOTHING.... he came from the left. possible behind.. possible the side.. honestly I just do not know. He had several punches into my head before I was even aware of what was happening. Make no mistake.. I was jumped, without honor, without provocation, without warning. This honor less fool... is a coward of the highest magnitude... now it has been YEARS since I was young and foolish enough involve myself in such goings on. But in my youth... particularly in the Punk Scene days... I experienced all manner of violence... all types... group fights, objects to the head, all kinds of duking it out... many years ago... Hell even the past 10 months,,, working the door at Caves.... I have only had ONE... altercation which became a punch in the head...late Summer..Sweater vest guy.... Go back and read the Blog... The point being that in all of my many LONG years... I have never encountered such a gutless coward, such a useless piece of human waste.. such a scum... a low low scum... that would Blindside a man... without honor or warning. A TRUER COWARD.. that is scared to give another man a fighting chance... I have never in all of my years encountered. A new one... this animalistic beast... this less than human thing without any honor whatsoever.
Have you ever been jumped? Man... it's different... it doesn't matter what skills of strength you possess... those first several blows knock the crap out of you and it's hard to say what's even happening. I honestly was so close to unconsciousness... my eyes were closed during the entire altercation... I was grayed out.... nearly knocked cold...I remember darkness...struggling to get a grip on what was happening... I had only had 3 and a half beer... so I wasn't drunk... I have been very tired,,, from all that has been happening...I just remember barely, on some primal level the thought that ... I was being attacked... brutally....and repeatedly... I couldn't see... and for some reason no one was stopping this... even though we were in the middle of a crowded bar... it was like slow motion...so likely it was just too quick for any reaction... but it didn't feel that quick to me... it just felt like blow after blow to the head... non stop... completely dark...blindness... unable to see... I had this thought... this fucker is going to kill me.... I couldn't see him... but at some point the thought of who it was resonated...I remember grabbing for his clothing with my last ounce of strength thinking that If I went all the way down.. I was already half way.. maybe on my knees.. I think... thinking that if I went all the way down... and no one was stopping this beast... this fucker was going to kill me... I thought of my children... their faces flashed through my mind... I saw them crying.. without there father... the missing of them this weekend for the first time.... all the more powerful... I thought of losing them.. of losing them... of losing me... what little I have left.. losing it all... the words... the destiny.... the crying daughters and sons... SOMEHOW... through all this slow motion brutality... I found the strength to grab at clothing... clothing I couldn't see at all with eyes totally closed so near blackout...I grasped at unseen clothing thinking that I have the strength... the body strength... If I can just pull him down.. I can stop this ... get a break..gather my wits... I did it somehow... I heard Andy's voice... "Guys. We need to break this up"....was it possible that no one understood... that this was not a fight... that I was blindsided and was so completely out of touch... I remember trying to stammer out... someone promise to pull him back... if I said it or not, I do not know. my eyes opened... my hands were around his throat... I had somehow through this primal fear I suppose managed to end out on top... holding him down.... I can only imagine it was the primal fear of losing my children.. my life.. I have absolutely no idea how it happened logistically... my eyes were closed. I stood.... backed away.. eyes opened for the first time... saw his stupid, snarling, mentally ill drunken face.. for the first time... The bartender... a blond... told me to leave... apparently this is his spot... he didn't have to go... despite such overwhelmingly criminal activity... shockingly.. he didn't have to go... I made no fuss... said no words... I wasn't even aware enough...I just stumbled out... Barbara... the T named girl... and I think her husband in the band came outside.. they spoke to me briefly... The girl said that a this guy had knocked her near over in a rage... to get to me... they were all as shocked at the sudden brutality of this attack as I was... where to go? this is when dumb mistakes are made...
REWIND:
It had been a good night... poetry in OC was lots of fun... it had helped take my mind off of missing the kids. I stopped by Caves... very briefly.. Britni was there..we talked for a short bit...she was very funny... I tried to convince her to go to the other place with me... she couldn't. I got down there. Immediately, upon sitting upon the couch.. the guy... who I knew had some issues and had made threats was there... he looked at me... then put out his hand and shook my hand.. well ok... I was still very upset at all the trouble that he had caused me months ago... the loss of friendships.. etc... but I was willing to let it slide..all past... right... I shook his hand and smiled... actually barely gave it another thought.
HISTORY:
lets make this short and sweet. Back in the first week of November... one of the very great fun Black Dog poetry nights... look it up on the Blogs.. WE had come back to Caves. Everyone was there having a blast.. then this fella... a friend of 2 good friends... starts talking some shit...taking off his shirt threatening to fight this kid named Tom...a philosophy student... with a biting wit. Janice told him to go... Jacob told him to go.. he started getting rowdy... Andy and I both went to the door the help get him out...Andy because the guy is a friend of his... Me, because of the same reason...and because I'm used to keeping the peace at Caves... No reason to go into detail... the point is that there was a scuffle... he was an idiot... I NEVER IN ANYWAY LAID A HAND ON HIM let me repeat.. NEVER At all... at one point he was down.. I put my knee on him to pull someone else off... period.. period.. period... Everyone left. Scurried away. Jacob called the police... I actually went out and spoke to the police... and talked them into NOT taking him to jail.... because he was a friend of a friend.. trying to be nice. I got him off the hook. Period. Jacob can verify that I NEVER hit this dude.. Janice can verify it, Tom can verify it..( probably more if I researched it) I spoke to all of them...tha tweek... this guy is an idiot. He Myspaced me the next day accusing me 100 percent falsely of damaging him during this altercation. I wanted to make sure that he understood that his belief was false... both because I value truth so highly...and second because I understand how shit has a way of coming back if not handled. within a couple of days... of emails back and forth... threats on his part... not mine... me trying to get at least 2 of my friends to explain it to him.... that he was full of shit... that he owed me a BIG apology.. that I had in fact rescued him.... he wouldn't listen.. my friends got tired of hearing it... they both said that he would just get over it... not to worry about it....that's is NOT how I wanted to let it go...at ALL... but I did.. I blocked him from Myspace... wrote him a letter... and tried to let it go. But you see it never did go... things like this don't. You don't want to be out drinking... with your guard down.. and have some crazy fucker with a fabricated grudge ready to jump you... this is what I thought for months.... For months... ever since That week in November... I have never gone and seen Andy's band at this bar... because of this guy... this bad mojo out there... MANY MANY MANY times seeing the invitations on Myspace.. I wanted to go... I truly love Andy with all of my heart... and it feels like our friendship has really suffered since then... I have barely seen him... a couple of times I went and took him out... I miss him a lot... those Tuesdays we had.. with all of the others... it hurt bad losing this... this connection. But not just that... there are several nice people... that I would love to see more... that go to Andy's shows... Ann, Barbara, Melissa.. andother Melissa of my former best friends who passed away's widow... LOTS of people I miss and would enjoy interacting with on a Saturday night... In fact my very best friend in the world.. had her birthday party there recently... I WAS really sick.. and MAY have stopped by briefly but may not have... I just have no use for being in situation like this... around fools like this.. make no mistake it is not fear... I'm just too old for such childish Bullshit. Last time I saw Opal... she said... c'mon.. c'mon.. I'll talk to Andy about it... We'll get it worked out... SO I was really feeling... a missing out...so I went... I figured I'd drop in.... see how it looked and leave if it seemed weird... I was very lonely without the kids... and needed to get out... like I say.. the dude saw me... shook my hand...I honestly saw that as a gesture of letting it go... I was willing.. hell... I NEVER had anything against this guy to begin with... I had helped him out... It's not my fault that he was a moron... why not let it all go.. it had caused me nothing but loneliness and separation from quality friends...
AFTERMATH:
Bad decisions suck. I should have called the police right there. From the seven eleven. He was in there. Instead I went to Caves... hoping to find Jacob...for some reason to tell him the story... Blood dripping down my face... swelling like Rocky 2....My neck so stiff it will barely move.. So I went to Caves... Saw Tom.. several friends.. Jason... and there was Jacob... not working though... drinking. Feeling a little frosty... enough that he suggested that we all go BACK up there and get this fucker...well... that idea did have a certain appeal...honestly... but really I'd had enough... my neck was now unable to move, my face swollen, nose.. all of it... someone.. maybe Jason suggested I call the cops from his cell... DUH... it hadn't even occurred to me..so I did.. I asked them to meet me at home, I went straight home. The EMT came... they checked me out... gave me advice... wanted to take me to the ER.. I said no because of cost... although today,.,, I kind of wish I had gone...damn the cost.. I need some pain meds... they took pics... I printed out his pic from Myspace...honestly... I am not feeling rage... just exhaustion and pain... but I will not let this rest. if there is any possible way to press any charges against this honor less pussy... I will do it to the fullest extent possible. If there is anyway to press charges or complaint of any type against this shitty bar... or the bartender for having this occur and not kicking the guy who did it out.... simply because they know him... I will press it to the fullest extent that I can. If anyone has any experience.. any ideas... who I should call... police, lawyer, TABC... whatever.. please email them to me.. if anyone was there,,, and saw this sudden assault email me... and please send me your number and talk to the police. If you know someone else that was there..send me that info... if you are willing to help me figure this all out...email me.. I'm not letting this slide. A man should not have to face the faces of his children in the eye of his mind... a man should not have to deal with unfounded, ruthless, sudden violent assaults... even the most macho guy can be BLINDSIDED.. and deserves the protection and justice... that our society can eek out... Hell we have to put enough heart and soul into the daily grind.... we deserve at least this much... I deserve at least this much.. at the VERY least.. I deserve honor... HONOR.... if you must resort to violence.... to not have the honor to speak to the person you are about to attack, to give that person any type of fighting chance, well I understand that it is fear based... maybe one believes that they cannot defeat this person another way... except with such low despicable, honor less tactics... but surely we as a people should not let this beast.. walk around unpunished... ready to do the same to any other person that he imagines slighted him in some drunken memory loss stupor.. after months have passed....no...we must agree that this is not acceptable.... or the sacrifices that we make day to day to live in this type of culture... aren't worth the effort..

10:21 AM - 20 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment

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Saturday 25/03/2006
duh..
How do you people know that I am so profound, deep, clever, feeling, and sincere..?
because I say that I am...that's how...
geeze..
It's in writing
and stuff...
5:48 PM - 5 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment