Say that stuff on t.v
or shut the hell up he told me
He said he'd crush me entirely
you should just shut up he told me
I'll herald the courage"go on live t.v
Just for you pony boy
They will put a microphone in my hand
Guys smiling, bar stool nice
Long hair and chaotic
pseudo cultured chip on the shoulder
film yourself
record that
It was a beach on land in land with high bridges crossing the fields and wetlands
Fancy ponds and school children that never age or mature
Dark porridge sand that show the trajectory of all feet
This world is one fat hallucination of a classroom
The ceiling here is a warm mellow overcast sky
She was tall and her name was Rebecca
She would pull attention with uncertainty
She stood under the bridge offering insect repellent
freckles and knowingness inside the eyes
She appealed toward the lack of import in me
I had not felt the mosquitoes neither did I believe there were any
All I wanted to see was the huge killer reptiles bobbing up in the ponds
I wanted to see stained teeth and ponder what they might be plotting
The land was one large swamp and girls like Rebecca wanted out
The only way out was to sell insect repellent next top the overpass
Untrained in the traffic, plagued by boredom and dangerous whims
I stood in the black sand focusing and conjuring pity in vain
The dark porridgey sand bred mosquitoes that spread malaria
the ones that got my grandfather in the solemn pacific
people loathe history so let's revisit the ponds
I stuck my head in there
Rebecca warned me, even though there was a measurable weight of sarcasm there
Half crocodile and half hippo hybrid bit it off
The insect repellent hadn´t worked
My carelessness killed me
You love them in so many different ways
They love you back in different ways
So many parts of you wanting in, wanting out
Connecting and disconnecting
desire emits
it´s reflected back inside and stirs everything up
then Marinates in your dreams
sweet and sour when you awaken to morning light
Stimulus comes in many forms
The eyes that make you the observer
the eyes that make you the observed
hauntingly aroused
The hidden depths of you
The myriad orgasm almost tangible
In your mind that different love
that limitless fascination
The liquid in you
The air of libido
the swelling solid longing
passion in liquid, solid and gas
The heart your control center
failing to keep it out of my hands
Thawing you out
Kissed kindling caressed
and quickly cresting in red hot ember
The seven children
going up against that steel tetrarchy
Small and humble walking across the cobblestone
feeding the beggers along the Aegean way
Damian peeled a lemon
Cosme crushed the cloves
The rest was given over to the holy ghost
These boys had walking legs instead of fear
some would say you could have both
But their heart´s and minds were already in the horizon
Antioch missed their steps and cures, their real light
Blessed so deeply almost bewitched sacredly bewitched
Radiating love to cure the harms and traumas
the ills and plagues that raw existence tests us with
Damian grinned, cosme circled the air with an open palm
The son himself energized them and made them giants
They were stopped at Cicilia´s gates by Praetorians
Brainwashed and savage they beheaded the children
By order of his prefect Lysias in honour of
Evil Jovius the great rebuilder
Down here it goes on forever
After you get from falling down the stairs
Dazed and dreading this species of darkness we live in
here the weak thrive and the srong slowly diminish
The floor is damp and moving with life
From simple bacteria to giant human eating eels
a few lightening fast parasites that simply wait on walls
Staring out their eyes dividing the energy with their stomachs
Once glued to you they won't come off until months after you expired
making tiny kingdoms between the algae that grows on yourr bones
I'd like to welcome you I am the monster who keeps it all fed
pushing the big spenders down the stairs screaming
Carrying their lies and excuses with them on the fall
The collapse and the realization of the true thick shock
Our basement is your basement, but you will be the host...
The earth is just an aquarium
Just a zoo exhibition for the universe
That look into us from afar
Our oxygen and nitrogen based atmosphere
Allow us to exist on the surface of this sphere
Here we can breathe and move unhindered
Part of me longs for water
Part wants to be airborne forever
Sometimes it all seems so small
I look at the rest of us
Empty bowls for recognition
empty bowls for love, for money
How some of us dream of greater things
Beyond this beautiful fishbowl
evening comes on
it comes across the brow of the horizon
it screams sunday night
It crawls across your forehead
a light layer of fast evapourating sweat
the dusk subsides night pushed in
A subtle humidity breezes through the gardens
The ones that were planted for aroma
evening dew hangs onto the plants
Painting them as darkness engulfs it all
The mind conspires toward dream
as you ponder going to bed
Evening comes on like a new face
Like a toke suddenly effecting a stone
Like a hangover disappating
The day crawls away abandoned
relinquished from the sky
The sky is that unfaithful maiden
Testing the day and night across her
To see which one strokes her clouds with more ardor
These moments are for the night
The imminent eminence
For soon the stars and moon
This is how the night out-seduces the day
The toff points out his biases avoiding talk of his inheritance
with a well portrayed reluctance and a tone of stolid forbearance
The commoner is a wheel rolling down a hill, gravity instead of mission
Unable to make great choices, avoid his obstacles or superstitions
The toff makes his situation yours with a pinch of false empathy
Though his high quality of life is light years from your shanty
In the united states the people are reffered to as yankees
The toffs there are sweet naive we call them toffee
Often richer than your run of the mill poxy
In love with Brit royals, rituals, false Robin's of loxley
Yet if they had won three centuries ago you'd be sending great boxes
Full of rare and precious minerals, not to mention exorbitant taxes
Excuse me are you Mr sinclair?
This is your cottage isn't it, do you care?
The picture in my hand matches your face
Isn't you, is this all one big goose chase?
A warrant for his arrest, I'm on the case
charges of fraud and white collery up the wazoo
But you state I'm mistaken for he is not you
Maybe the address or picture is untrue
And these other men in your presence faces so glum
who desperately request pence and pounds in large sums
is this purely a mere coincidence,
Or are you sir, on the run?
Before I go please open your bag on the table, leave it undone
What's this, a wig, a fake moustache that looks like a real one?
With that you'd hoodwink even the least gullible, I'm stunned
What's that, it's just a game, a bit of fun...
I guess I got the wrong man and must depart empty handed
But follow me anyway, even though you didn't plan on it
For your current company is composed of ruthless bandits
We had the tools, the time and the knowledge
But we didn't fix the situation
Infact we stood around speculated
As the situation worsened
We pretended to be above the situation
We allowed ourselves confusion for a spell
We successfully avoided engagement
We borrowed money for expensive clothes
We made you feel like this might be some
obscure form of sophisticated higher knowledge.
The unattainable ultimate humility we mere mortals reached
The rest of you underpaid productive ones just don't get it
But the crux of it isn't creating a scene for pontification
Or some opportunity for mindblowing brainstorms
Our titles afforded us tenure and lordship
Behind our robes was pure laziness
Pure derision for the pleb
I asked to touch your hand
you placed your palm on mine
I studied the back and front of your hand
The yellowish soft welcome inside and through
The tanned harder back of it
and elegant line between the two
running from the little finger
to the base of the wrist
I asked to see your leg
you extended it out from your skirt
first your calf then your barefoot into sunlight
pointing your toes the subtle lines formed
between the top of your foot
and the gently rippled surfaced sole
Causing a symmetry dimples couldn't plagiarize
paralleling a grace that reverberated your girlish fervor
The man lectured a group of us about he evils of life.
His tattoos and piercings came alive on his skin .
His scars wrapped around like snakes,
they paired up in an aggressive mess on the flesh.
The surrounding walls echoed his body art through graffiti
Fat imposing lines sliced with fine neon squiggles
The stains of older art begging to be seen
Underneath the hideous new tags
His face was an aged Edward Furlong.
Desperate and weary not to convince me of imminent holocaust.
But of the ills of wasted lifestyle and harmful habits.
The man ranted and his tatoos and scars danced.
He started dancing on the tables.
pointing and gesturing his slogan was "Don't be like me".
His life of celebrity had ruined him from his poor skin,
to his out of balance chemical mix in his brain.
he didn't say it like a warning, he said it as an appeal to authenticity
I would have protested had the group not been composed of his fans
I wasn't here to worship or encourage this self involved blowhard
So I started thinking of a polite reason to get the hell out
His behaviour became more and more absurd
He never admitted his impulsivity
saying it was a result of wrong place wrong time
yet he continued to live his bad decisions
Late september was sinking in
The summer was kicking in
low hum low warmness
early morning glow
curtain open light floods in
routine clicks and the day continues
I am alive and the sky is clear
obeying the treatise of spring
I became the month itself
smooth and suave dragging August
Closer to October
grabbing the day between rise and set
I was heating up
new shoots on bark
rough, sweet and fresh that's it
I was trying for that
There are thirty days in me
A wheat harvesting maiden looking at me
And by the end of it some scales to weigh it all
North gives Autumn, Spring here south
I became the month in those upside down seasons
The equal nox lining up like a gnomon hole
He walked into my house
I put my hand out to shake it
I cut my palm badly
It bled over the floor
He sat down, I made him coffee
And asked him if strictness was necessary
He chuckled and spilled his coffee over my blood
I asked him how he dealt with the pain
He said it was hyper torment
I wiped a tear the honesty of it overwhelmed me
Didn't the heavens anesthetize you?
He shook his head slowly
No regret in his face
Then he smiled and leaned his forehead toward me
I went to kiss his forehead a thorn pierced my tongue and lip
I bled again all over the floor
So he kissed my forehead
And told me about the gravity of my failures
I nodded and dabbed my lip with a paper towel
He then congratulated me for my blessings
My hand and lip healed
He said- I have wounded your hand and mouth
Yes you have.
But I forgive you.
- You forgive me because of what I am.
-Train your heart to forgive, despite whoever inflicts pain.
- Your hand is now healed, so go out and write it.
- Your lip is now healed, so go out and speak it.
I woke up in the night inside a deeper dream.
I had graduated from human to God.
I walked through the bedroom wall.
Into a lower plane of paradise.
The lizard called from from the pool of rebirth.
I bathed and became that neon self.
Sliding out of the dream that it is to be human.
I celebrated the roots of existence.
Thick root hugging the pool and dividing reality.
You saw me as shadow, blind to my ethos
you couldn't recognize my core
Despite my darkness
Despite how they shun me
The ever walking Christ still approved
He promoted me from an ant of a person
To a fully powered divine mystic
The kaleidoscopic entities
accompanying my ascendence
Cracking jokes of my billion defeats
Of my thousand nights of solitude and grief
Here I stand in this realm between the earth and empyrean
My footsteps echo love and purpose in a private language
That only the ground that holds me up understands
I thank converting every old desire to gratitude
I witness those unlimited ideal blissful heavens far off
Above the tree of life a colossus I now stand
suddenly aware of my size and strength
forced to consider my actions
Forced to walk gently through magical gardens
where birds and mammals worship my presence
I looked back at the wall and decide to leave a piece of myself behind
Longing to guarantee that prepotent extension of my mojo spirit
Somewhere the daily grind and it's minions could never deny
A piece of me never came back, flourishing out there
I still feel it developing as my body ages on earth
Upon it's throne in that sweet colorful dimension
where the night air cleanses all wordly grime
Where I command forever out of your idea of space
out of your idea of time
His glare doesn't blink or break.
His ears are reminiscent of gremlins.
His sad "let me into the house" face,
Pulls on the heart strings.
Brown furr around his eyes and cheeks,
all of that smug symmetry he had since puphood.
Black furr from the top of the head to the nose.
Again stripes as if painted on by artists.
He suddenly points his long dark nose.
away from me, in the direction of the passionfruit.
Then his piercing eyes readjust on me,
and grind straight through me
As if I was the dog and he was the human.
You must understand this animal destroyed trash cans,
attacked other dogs, would force himself on anything with legs.
After the snip he became philosophical, observant just too clever.
He shook his body and neck his collar tag rattling.
He wasn't interested in the night creatures.
He didn't care about the outside world,
he just wanted to be near me.
She comes Shiva ferocious to destroy it all
The way she sways calls gentle hot wind into the room
Unseen creatures enter worshipping her moving in silence
All of the noise conspiring with her hips
Emotion had worked it's spell capturing the air of the room
She shakes all attention becomes vaccumed into her
I wait for the return of my own eyes and breathing
After blinking and spluttering I marvelled at the havoc of her
Dust and sparks as metal moved musty delight almost a smile
The salts of infatuation the shield had grown heavy
Shiva manifests a grenade that explodes infinitely
coloring the walls and deep into us with deep reds
nasty purples and sexy blacks and oranges
all forming and evapourating just to destroy my life
We prepared tomorrow's meal for low pay
without any food on tables in our homes today
Adversity was the routine, hardness accepted
We watched food get wasted and go foul
as our stomachs ached and growled
We were just the naive kitchen staff saps
obeying the house manager hoping for scraps
For pay, good conditions, but it was tough
Through gritted teeth still able to laugh
Cheerily chattering in the manager's absence
Joy even in the face of the situation
I and the other two emaciated servants
Able to cook clean and ingratiate
The manager arrived, we bowed heads and feigned smiles
Staff were often laid off, he knew we knew underneath
He straightened that knowing grin his face unleashed
his scornful caustic clandestine egophile
Town was a trap, a cut, a screech
A mess, a ditch, a crowd a disease
I needed a shortcut
My reality was hot
A cigarette ember
Slow sarcastic smoke
This town was surrounded
a caroussel of a hussle
a merry go round arousal
I need a map
I stand by the suburban creek hovering
looking at the pale overcast offering
speculating about my whereabouts
The town haphazard and insulting
I saw the path between the abandoned subdivision
I said why not?! fighting consternation.
The breeze softly chuckled and reminded me
That no shortcuts had saved me any time
Throughout my dream
colors and flavors arrived
warning bells screamed
No mobile home
Warning bells were ringing
A city unknown unaware
Faces greeted then disappeared
Graceful flavors tongue town
Taste departs to urgent islands
The sleepy inhabitants breathe
I could feel breath on my face
It was night air pouring out
A reciprocal dozy sensation
I could smell dreamlike romance
like salt rising off drying mud
Morning tide of retreating dreams
wake to confusion
sweat and drool
what a lifetime
in silent calm
As I relived the dream
It all came back to me
Like a childhood taste
remembering
I took a look at my past,
my face in the mirror.
Much younger,
eyes looking forward.
Squinting to see the future.
I looked back at him.
Here I am infront.
Laughing like a motor.
He screamed through the glass.
He said drag me up to where you are.
Was it the same me I remember?
I try to focus on his eyes.
lit up amphetamine blue.
silver and engrossing.
Convincing me I am still me.
Yet it's all a fallacy.
The past me is so far behind,
with so many mistakes awaiting.
Couldn't I grant this small mercy?
I told him he was still so blind.
He told me he didn't know what I meant.
I told him pain is a gift if it makes your life better.
Father watch me as I run through this life
I have no direction no final destination
how you made everything make sense
Now I'm running senseless
Lost in obscurity sprinting like a madman
After every single thing you taught me
exhaustion in my chest weighing me down
Too close to the heart
I'm running like these lost ones
trading grins for frowns in pretense
Father look down at my pathetic attempt
to be somebody whole and real
No attachments I seek life
I saw the one you built before you expired
It's not envy that has me standing outside
It's the fact I wanted to ou tdo you
Win more and be greater than you ever were
But there's only numbness in my will to compete
Only tired wrath where once optimism flowed
But I can't stop running toward nowhere
To places and people I don't know the names of
To create the riddles yet be the butt of the jokes
Couldn't I just dress and behave like they do
Instead of attempting to herd them
The way you did remember father
so we run, not just me but millions of men
Who run like wounded camels fatherless
with something to prove but no one is interested
I love you
formal and fancy.
My own woman,
none braver.
Should a woman even be brave-
they all ask themselves.
I'll be your protector,
defend you from your nightmares.
I love you
keep sleeping this night.
If it's necessary I'll wake you,
bad dreams can't hurt you.
I scrape the air above her.
She turns over and tries again.
I love you completely.
I will take care of you.
Near the creek where we traded kindnesses
they didn't taste like anything like this universe
I've been thrown half way cross the earth
cause the thin islands don't want this
So I'll own this plot I landed in now
I think to the old world always the same
where the stream was thick with shame
foaming up with expectation foul
But I washed it elbow grease devil
My teeth with that busy brush
swept the grass the dim rushes
smoothed the muddy low level
So I'll take this one memory unlocked
wisdom himself came haughty and cocky
We negotiated over the water and it's way
We traded kindesses,learned to pray
I could smell a new humble era
These men know no compassion
They take from what others ration
Their shadow owns their actions
I stand before the creek's dip
looking out at those subtle ripples
I see her and my changing thought
Swimming in the water
I washed it indeed with raging storms
All of these flash floods suddenly born
How generous oh how violent
debris and that gift in the wake
Delivered is the fertile soil
Ground to enrich, crops to toil
That funky muddy silt so dispered
doesn't taste like it's from this universe
Falling with gravity.
There's justice in the plunge.
Freedom in enertia.
My acceptance of the drop.
I chose it instead of resistance.
I didn't anesthetize myself.
I opened myself up to the terror
of losing all control.
The terror of plummeting
The weight of my body
and the lack of any obstacle
Nothing to slow me down
There's divinity in chaos
Flailing arms and extreme vertigo
Breathlessness and flaking out
living in terminal velocity
No landing pad
No end
Just the sensation Of falling upward downward
Just meditation as I'm pulled away through th cosmos
Does it know I have eyes of wrath
That i've made haunted swamps my bath
Lived with the ghosts in my blood land
Does it know that as it sits there staring
I'm not a simple soul or fellow
Not the kind of person
to just accept things face value
The strange one, the worst one
observing the quarry
from up in the pines wind is sorry
because something alive but empty sought
To hold me in the forest after the sun got caught
And by night, from then would never be seen
yet I was never taken it all looked into me
saw that ugly little truth it had hitherto avoided
My questions are many for I am the void
Does it know the evil is not the kind it greets
The goodness that prying devouring inquisitor
Solemnity lives in fires of the unwelcome visitor
Staring out the golemn ignored
words, my only weapons, my food my lore
She organizes herself with her friends,
they seem like they are cooperating together.
Getting themselves ready to lift weights,
looking stylish in their spandex pants.
In her dream you want entry.
In the mind's eye to speak.
In the gym things are sweaty.
There's not enough room you take turns.
You be all you can be,
speaking to their mind's eye.
Do they see you, the way you want to be seen?
were you on the verge of a dream?
Is it another woe is me and you quit,
when the rhythm is magic inviting shrill.
They see you pant and sweat into exhaustion
Consumed by effort and lust
Not even discussed or applied in their mind's eye
I guess you better push and pull til there's nothing left
Over by the small stretch of grass is the mellow beast
larger than bulls with green skin, incredibly docile
The live off forest leaves and can be found on the edge
where pasture meets trees basking in dappled light
They move slowly and clumsily along grazing all day
You don't know what they are because you hate nature
Not a particularly obvious loathing
But an impatience owing to ignorance
A sense that anything without a concrete use
should be abandoned or incinerated as refuse
Inside you is the deep need to simplify a complicated universe
The only expression you need is out of a wallet or purse
I approached the mellowbeast moaning in subtle low tones
Bruises over it's limbs, people just can't leave well alone
I treated the animal and it hummed approvingly
it picked itself up yawned and began moving
It's not that you hate animals, you just don't understand stratification
You'd love to live in self contained mall with artificial vegetation
Eventually running out of air and expiring from suffocation
When you don't tend something alive it dies even spoilt things like you
I led the beast back to it's babies which had been abandoned
High pitched whinneys and munching leaves in tandem
A young man stood in luxury brand crocks and socks the animals lowered
bracing as a thin fire spat out from the boy's deforesting flamethrower
Hand in hand enjoying each other's company
Everyone had their tell their special identity
the air would pop with uncertainty
And you were not you suddenly
I was not me and none of my desires existed anymore
Instead of breaking, palms gripped despite sweat pouring
Insisting and tightening like vice grips that bite and gnaw
This world stole our roles and left us mirrorless boards
Pathetic arguments grew out of our mouths
we were private yet we spoke as crowds
Gratitude that fed us on quiet evenings
replaced by lack and sullen severings
Faith was eroded, identity mutated
My physical form, both shrunk and inflated
Skin paled and tanned, heart loved and hated
Only hunger reigns, impossible to be satiated
I got lost at the hotel, I needed to use the bathroom. The decor inside the entryway seemed fifty years older than the hotel. With black wooden panels and along the passage, the odd big wooden box with yellow wooden grain.
I found myself inside a corridor that resembled the back stage of a studio. There was no uniformity.
There were men and women seated on makeshift benches deep in conversation. They couldn't sense me at all. Looking out vacantly when I shouted.
The corridors opened up into a chamber of bathroom cubicles, there were some more people seated inside next to the handbasins, just reading magazines. Were they hiding from the world?
Did they come to this strange dimension for solace.
I no longer needed to use the bathroom. I felt as if I had at some point left earth and now I was somewhere that shouldn't exist. I tried to retrace my steps back to where I had entered the bathrooms. I passed all of the familiar areas on my back. Where I believed the entry to be, was a waiting room with two gossiping women. It seemed they were talking about people who had passed through.
Their voices would change slightly from normal female human voices to chickens clucking furiously and accusingly. I spotted a turnsyle, definitely an exit. I jumped over it into an alley, i could see sunlight and vegetation meters away. Cobwebs the strength of wire held me back. Strange bonds that held me from making my exit.
And all I could hear was furious clucking and electric guitar riffs, the cobwebs were vibrating like guitar strings, reverberating my heartbeat, anxieties and clandestine fear in sudden flicks and flims.
The strings got tighter and I thought I'd die, but all that happened was the clucking and the guitar music harmonized. I could feel my body transform into the turnstyle itself. I was becoming a turnstyle and a queue of rambunctious people was forming.
The sign above me said -welcome all gossip mongers, what a way to spend eternity.
The producer was a thin, thirty something aggressive woman. With a smile that said I'll find a way to fuck you over if you don't get it done.
But I didn't have the courage to include the newly discovered scandal. An event that would potentially break our contract with the central subjects. The producer said that if i didn't exploit that sensitive information she would shut the project down.
Beyond my pang of conscience, I knew that if the shit hit the fan, I would be the one left holding the bag.
The top brass took accountability for nothing pushing it all onto their semi informed employees.
So as I couldn't lose the gig I neeeded to find a way to include something without our central subjects suing us.
I reflected on exactly how this would impact our subjects. A young family whose reputation would be destroyed not by their own deeds but by the deeds of an unscrupulous organization, that seemed to have so much in common with my own producer, who was on the verge of firing me for having a conscience.
I decided to anonymously reach out to a news network to expose my overzealous producer.
The director of the news network somehow got my producer fired.
The director visited me in my office, unbeknownst to me, he was a silent partner in teh company I worked for. he told me I would be promoted. One week later I was given two employees to finish the documentary. The director left a voice message for me telling me to have the employees expose the sensitive information. Then after the production deny any involvement.
I suddenly felt like my female producer. Except now I had a new luxury apartment, a company car, and my ego had become my brain's new decision maker. I said to hell with it. Burn the grunts, and expose the vulnerabilities of that sweet family we set out to protect.
The lower class swaths flood the promenade to the lake
Fireworks, sugary food, sweat and vulgar outbursts, chuckling and chagrin
Prudes we are, observing them carelessly as they celebrate like lost children
You can's see the lake yet know it be there by it's pleasant humidity
Shore access was cut off as they would soil it with refuse and false humility
Prudes like us stand out trying to take cues and and betray our own dignity
The over salted over sugared swaths fill the air with caterwauling and shrieks
Prudes we are, bracing and clenching for tight clamor and outlandish reeks
Wet old open mansion near the rainforest
The historic gem of the tourist destination
White and creme painted walls demure
Echo the house's past triumph at grandeur
Sitting on the grassy hillside confidently
Not thin bladed grass growing gingerly
But fat thick deep green clumps abundant
Distant cattle long for invain despondent
The house sits three stories into the mist
Taking in zealous raincoated enthusiasts
their own accounts hungering for keen speculation
Giving ears and awe to the guide's ornamentation
Knowledge and exaggeration in elegent allegories
From dripping awningsas valley mist keeps pouring
Humid aged aromas inviting the nose to delve
The antique wares, swords, guns and helves
You leave through a tight exit panflets block your way
Rumours and mysteries trouble the rest of your holiday
why are you always going somewhere
what have you forgotten, what is your fear
How have you become this person
obsessed with moving fiercely
Through time and space a yaught lost at sea
seeking yourself searching for spirituality
never finding anything but isolated islands
once inhabited then abandoned
By people like you, that just couldn't stand it
Into canoes to leave behind the land that
once sustained their endearing brains
Onto the waves, water from the rain
To bigger islands on a settler's track
why are you never satifsfied with where it is at
So new places, new abodes new towns and roads
carrying those old beliefs inside your load
My brother welcomes me
my father welcomes me
My father follows him
My brother accuses me
My father warns him
This place was never mine
This place i was born
I am but a hefty guest
such a burden
So father craves excitement
The world was a big fat loan
My brother craves fairness
Grudges and a throne
The street craves the boots of pedestrians
The shops crave people
I shake with an energy a certain ball lightening allure
For I crave power, raw, intoxicating and pure
I crave magic, freedom and speed
I want it all in harmony and symmetry
I need to own the beauty of the world
I crave the sublime, esoteric and arcane
Hither canning town stands a little village between cities
Abandoned by the grand old one
Pumpkin growing peasants seeking sun, gin
and the company of unpredictable vagabonds
Wide dank streets to what would once be a towering city
Shacks every hundred meters or so and within the empty space...
A cripple or begger with some uncurable ailment
they'd charge you to hear or charge for silence
No organization, no maintenance
the walls behind the mainstreet stood seven meters high
Covered by soot, moss and insect nests
they no longer resembled walls
I try to bargain with a local man
For a biscuit and water for my way forward
One of the street vagrants presents a musket
one of birmingham's new gun quarter best
it fit his shoulder perfectly his aim seemed true
The flint dove down and sparks came a dozen
lead ball felled me before my senses knew
I could see blood and parts me
Artesenal goods, handicrafts and passion for the natural things
Hear the shop owner expand on those intriguing "well actually"s
Anticipating eyes honing an unnecessary toast to your health
the cracker crunches inevitable and the jam slops in mouth
Oh permission to widen the salivating smile of sixty something taste tester
this is her moment not yours, these are her toothpicks and serviettes
A drop of jam drops from the corner of your mouth her hand extends
delicately catches it while you decide whether to be thankful or vexed
She opens the lid on another saying this is just the stuff "out of sight!"
You feel like the guinea pig of a spoilt child force fed and nurtured just right
Instead of a cracker your handed a dry wooden spoon that dissolves saliva
leaving your mouth with a strangely violated sensation you hide it
The man waiting to try next to you eyes you like some sort of beast
-Well, where's your thank you. the man blurts out as if part of the scheme
But the taste testing woman just stares with moist eyes as if in a dream
Attempting farewell goes on deaf ears the next snack is already creamed
Brian Cranston woke up his father gone
He edged to the end of the bed and pondered
One day I'll be a drug dealer like an onda
an angry one, cancer ridden, petty
I'll adopt a little Jesse and prove I can do better
I'll take a trailor out to the desert and cook cool ice
Mess with the local crime set give myself a mofo alias
walk with my black hat tapped beef up the rep
Pep in the step trout face in my net
Avoid imposing that sympathy tax
instead fabricate chalky scooby snax
pumping the fiends and tweek demons
Brian Cranston counting the stacks
One day he'd have his Dad back
New mexican bald regulating martel
Keeping it all flowing smoothly for the cartel
It's cross hairs for all the bosses
He makes his escape cuts all his losses
Cut his friends, family, firey goatie
Pride, crime and chemo never fully free
I saw the baby in the distance crawling through semi forest and pasture.
Moving quickly along the ground rolling through the grassy floor,
radiating happiness and curiosity his little mind for earth.
He neared the fence where the machines were filming.
The chubby healthy baby sat pointing up toward the machines.
-Hey look it's pointing, do you think it could be harmful.
-No, we wiped them out, besides this one is charming.
So the machines stood bantering on the farm.
The baby cooed picked up a centipede by it's sting.
Bit the little beast in half and threw the sting so fast.
Then stood up and cartwheeled across the grass.
-Are you getting this on your built in cam?
-Of course, baby performance in the wild like this, not so bad.
The baby took tree sap and glued it to the back of a land crab,
killed the crab with a twig, rubbed an ants nest and began to gleam.
-What's it doing now do you think, it's not what it seems.
The mound burst open with aggressive hybrid bullet ants.
The baby tapped the nest with the crab on twig and glanced.
The thing quickly swarmed black, baby flinched in apprehension.
With malice he threw it at the machine standing close to the fence.
It stuck to the camera like head of the machine the baby cooed.
The ants made their way into the machines biting and chewing,
until every wire and mechanical organ was scarred or severed.
Sparks and alarms as cuts were made to all that was tethered.
In cracking speech -You know what the worst is?
-No, what?
-I'd say, he did it on purpose!
I went to the hospital because things were down in me,
down in me huh, I needed medical attention and to vent.
I opened those big glass doors with all of my strength,
exhaustion was instant cruel and unwilling to relent.
Exhaustion gave no excuses, my clenched face strained.
I entered the bleach surfaced pale lit lobby sanitized sane,
where some nurses tried smiles that clung onto mouths.
As they rushed, yelled and pushed patients across the linoleum.
I got to the reception desk hands gripping my pain and lumps,
frown chopped down into 2nd gear to make the speed bump.
I spurted out the ailments and torturing reality it's crests and troughs.
Hindering me these past weeks turning in green in the rough.
Nurse's trampoline neck bounced up posture unbelieving.
sweet pink white face, accusatory eyes scanning, beaming.
Her hand closed on a paper slip suddenly a little breeze,
as she kung-fu parried and bureau sternly thrust it on me
Aisle two room A Stay in line, otherwise you will lose your place.
I recoiled my frown my hunch and my endeavor at sympathy,
walked toward the disignated room, expression twitching awkwardly.
Two impatient women stood about shifting on their feet in the queue.
I parked my sadness askew behind them as they tossed their hair without a clue,
pretending to be elsewhere out of boredom or residual fear their turn was near.
Three people entered the room in succession, I was briefly impaired.
Pushing in as I was distracted trying to get a snack in, I dared.
Everyone was called And I was left holding my grudge,
a half eaten cracker and cold bitter coffee, I scoffed gruff.
I spat crumbs, said those bastards pushed in my voice in a knot
A nurse probably my grandmother in her last life, stopped,
turned on her slippers and angled herself toward me.
"What's the matter now sir?" she uttered cheerily.
I said I was overlooked and the stare she gave me was shotgun fierce,
she looked at me 12 gauge assessment, chalked it up to my condition.
"Ok sir just stay in line." translated, shush old man don't complain
She skipped back into brisk lythe pace leaving me crumbs, stains
numbing outrage and debilitating pain.
He throws his own like bait for the next bout a fishing
He leads the herds to the river, cuts a few of them throws them in
leads the rest across while the piranas get busy shaking out skeletons
Mega maga massa butt kiss press traditional hungry hippos
What's a few patsies let them down all of a sudden
new gigs, wigs and quaint quasi conservatives
bribes and bibs, caviar, epstein's forgotten kids
Cartel's exploding, but New York still sells lids
Devour the martyr like a demented sharky
cheap chunky news purpose distraction
Poland's russian drones, school shootings
attention seeker who can't be alone
Another meeting in the oval
rounds of applause appointment
very special false ocasions
old face ointment
Bragging that takes effort
Big responsibility
stealing credit's easy
but using the word beautiful all day is hard
They looked at you
near the grass mound where kids congregate
where they compare and jeer and wait
for their groups to bulge for courage sake
You stood unbelonging, pretending not to care
dressed in clothes you thought matched theirs
wearing an expression that hid the shame and fear
yet you are not quite in the loop
So how you are going to fit into the group
rehearsing jokes, making declarations
Pushing gossip like poop out of ass
validation the sound of smashing glass
They looked at you crassly
half tempted to relegate you to victim
Discomfort in the guitar riff sickening
There's frantic excitement in the group
You stood and feigned like a brave lil curtain
Most of them bought it though future's uncertain
Because they'll see your faults seal your fate
Judge and taunt you until you can't take it
I can tell you the sidewalk loves me,
it has no reason too.
Loves me more than my mother.
loves me more than my wife.
mMre infatuated with me than my dog.
Than my admirer, than my followers.
It just hunkers down so solid.
Silent and grounded.
Here I am walking parallel,
it pretends not to be there.
So I do too, whistling and jogging.
Carefree, sweaty cheap and me soaking.
It's straight aligned with the curb.
I don't try to high five it.
But it's not too far below me.
Hard as my grandfather's backhand.
I know it's hot for me
Cause sun shining on it all day.
Here you were picturing concrete romance.
Words for the hopscotch chalk .
Butt's last spark as it leaves the smoker's mouth,
boot prints and dwarf gang graffiti can stealth.
It's infatuated with this rustic piece of flesh
surrounding me.
You were up therre on the second floor
looking down on me awkwardly
what could it be, casually what could that be?
And I let myself wonder
You head turned ever so slightly
to allow a view down to where I was
What were you trying to see
what kind of look was that?
I was trying to relax lazy hot afternoon
what is that feeling I'm being watched by you
being seen and sized up by you
What is this is supposed to mean?
What kind of creature am I, what being?
have you summed me up quite yet?
We followed recognized people
A big group of semi celebrities
We had coincidently crossed path
Others were too shy to approach
Their auras were phenomenal
they smiled without smiling
They didn't walk they sauntered
In white clothes that absorbed the sun
Then redistributed it over their own moving utopia
We were humbled speechless when they complimented us
We asked awkwardly if we might follow them to Shrangri-la
I reveled in the ambiguity of their faces and followed all the same
The sandy ground suave afternoon sun comforting my steps
Down the shady alley slope of banyan pass
An obese man with long hair and long beard cycled
Climbing with every ounce of effort in his oversized body
This was courage, this was power
In first gear you could hear the bike creak under him
Passing through the shade made form giant roots
He gritted his teeth and made his way directly up the incline
The expression on his face was a transition from agony to victory
The speed of his legs told us there was hidden strength in him
Observers silently watched holding back their awe
As he crested comfortably at the top of the avenue
And grinned before he made his downhill descent
The game was broken
It felt like I was choking
The guns didn't blaze neon
The lights didn't come on
didn't blink right or left
then go off within
turn and symbolize death
I can't see the next spin
I am now a drone without direction
Floating around without a target
My life was the game no reflection
There's no point i won't start again
Movement in the simulation
of a wondrous destruction
That was my fulfilled elation
My essence' extract reduction
Weve seen all there is to see young say now,
belching and filming, self filming.
All alot of cosmetic sugery unnecessary tattoos.
Spitting on the street and repeating what they heard somewhere.
Triggering this and that from within the soft membraine of the mind.
It's diddums tricksters shadows of the doubt seeps seeping safe keeping.
We've seen it all before, what a shock to the system, and how mature.
Wow, how much should the world learn from you?
After you and pop culture have taken a pause,
in the endless odoriferous quest for censorship.
You've seen it already yes I know you've told me.
Infinite wisdom somehow and enlightened saviours.
Too busy with that bombastic self absorption.
Creating systems too tight and too specific for living.
Congratulating yourself on past achievements.
Avoid all future challenges, just look good.
we all miss the times
times we can't claw back to
People no longer available
ever
You shouldn't lose it
Separate yourself from them
Now you can't turn back
ever
We lose it all
bereft wearing frowns
winking a tear
before it can fall
Open and vulnerable
openly grieving
feeling ourselves disappear
lost in loss
He had his favorite moments
Kids anticipated things in houses
where parents couldn't imagine tomorrow
He would go to the mega play park
Play until adulthood
The suddenly be somebody
He was so busy so obsessed with playing
Under those pinetrees with those other kids
He was so small and enthusiastic
How the magic leaches out
He slowly forgot how to share
His food and toys
Slowly he became more and more selfish
feeling extremely short changed by the world
Spinning the toy in his hand then the cash
Then his ID and he knew self interest
He left the pine forest behind
The sugar and playfights
He became laughless
lockstep and greedy
Leaving the album flat
That young popular family
suddenly dressed in the best clothes
onto the pavement
semisunlight
capturing smiles
a taxi pulls up
anticipation of life
willful love
Faith in human beings
Genesis of friendship
Trusting fellow man
Suspicion appears shadows at first
Cognitive judgement now an enemy
Put yourself on the line
Open your hand
Oh struggle
The fear of betrayal
In wind the boy's jacket stolen
Locked out of his own home
Yet sun still shines
Some simpleton rhymes
bygones and water under the bridge
Renew some of that good will
A dose of rapport
inevitable affection
commonality between
but group protection
painful social quarantine
No simple friendship
no hope of connection
It was existence beyond reality
it was always to fight each fallacy
I begged for deep sleep in totality
Journey in dream brought veracity
A trek into my embellished stories
Forbidden at first then cast obligatory
Taken by Sono-realm played out in unreal series
Churning with fury through my revolving memories
I came back to myself like a mad typhoon
There was a symphony playing like a cartoon
drawing me back inconveniently encumbering
Interfering with the bath in slumber
My body was heavy my brow raised in wonder
It was my alarm Beethoven's thunder
It was a stew of emotions, thoughts, hopes and fears.
My sensations soaked it up like bread.
My head swelled, eyes looking for leftovers.
The pressure a headache though now dissapating
Even with the stove turned off the thoughts continued cooking it all.
The strange shapes I pictured for many nights coming clear
forming into people and situations flavors and textures.
I've left my precious nerves oversoftening in the pot.
Avoid spilling salt or spice.
T'is quite a mouthful.
A stew of emotions,
ardent tones and extreme sensations
The local grocer's shop was very chaotic, ill planned.
My wife and I had stopped to pick up some vegetables.
Completely bamboozled by dense stacks of assorted greens and fruits. I picked through to see if they had what I needed.
The two girls working there couldn't find the products we asked for. There was often a tray with several types of items. It all seeemed so random and confused. Was it to have us spend more time there?
The pair of girls were very friendly. They did seem to care, at the same time they seemed disoriented. It was like the person who setup the grocer had made it so befuddled, the girls had been contaminated by the pure craziness of the mess.
The boss Tony Had that "It wasn't me" sneer about him. But it had been him, he had probably organized the shop, or rather disorganized it on purpose as his daughters had arrived to work there late.
Tony had that "You can't get something for nothing" lower middle class jaw on him. His daughters had been so well trained in politeness and tact, the contrast between them was also dizzying.
"At least it's all fresh" My wife remarked.
We ended up leaving with items we didn't need that would substitute the ones we did.
Tony whistled out to get our attention, we rolled down the window. He waved out, smiled, his mouth short a few teeth. We waved back.
The poor skinny father held the hand of his poor skinny son.
He was guiding him through the underpass and around a barrier chain into a park.
A curious woman touched the young boy's hand to get his attention, but he didn't respond.
He gripped his father's hand and put his weight on his father. He neither grinned nor gimaced. It was like a feature of the landscape. The autumn sun suddenly shone on them as they emerged from the underpass. The skinny son let go of his father's hand and with his other hand, freed himself from his father's grip. He ran down and knelt carefully on the edge of the duck pond a look of urgent excitement across his brow and eyes. The kind of look a child would have at seeing the icecream truck driving away, then making a uturn, returning all of that hope.
The Son felt his Father step up next to him. The son pointed out at the few ducks across the pond. He didn't quite know how to react. Making swimming motions with his arms, and gulping air as if he were underwater. The sun reflected from the motioning surface, literally hundreds of flicking waves moving the twinkling sun faster and faster. The son was quiet completely embracing the moment with the ducks. They were anything particular, just swimming slowly in a group from one side of the pond to another.
The father was also dead quiet, just observing his son, as mesmserized with him as his son was with those ducks. And so the sunday afternoon would often pass like this.
As the sunset Father took his son's hand and slowly picked him up, now a frown had formed one that seemed the boy had put into forming. Turning back in the direction of the car park, tears streamed down the boys cheeks and onto his father's forearms.
"Don't fret my son, we will back here next week." And next week with the exception of a few details, would be exactly the same, from the fixation with the water and ducks to the tears he would shed on their way back to the old beat up car, back to their twenty meter town flat.
It all leads back to you the used person.
You are the quintessential void of a human being.
The empty delicacy of systems built for attention.
So why do I feel such atrocious envy of you?
My meager attempts to stay authentic win me no accolades.
I witness you the used person wearing your stretchy smile.
In your new improved model of the year gas guzzler.
Grand ostentatious void of a human being.
Tiny price tags hanging off eye lashes and the deal is made.
Trophy wife, trophy everything, personal advertising.
So question me delicately...
Why do i still feel envy?
You broadcast that utopian slogan "free yourself".
Lean on into the fat void, content on the outside only.
Like an airhead gymnast cooking dusty padded floors,
with her brazen elegant world class acrobatics.
Only to self destruct into alcoholism.
However the void is God's greatest gift.
Anything can come out of or go into you.
Me, there's broken complexity, useless structure.
No rave hype appeal, not commercial enough.
Me, I'm growing predictable like proliferating lake algae.
I am the void filler, all spores and all spurs into your wall,
into your mind, the quintessential epistemologist freak swarm.
Are you curious? Maybe I can fill your void,
Can i bring my retinue of hosts and parasites?
Can they paint the inner membraine in fervent colors ?
As I continue to poke and prod the depths of your void.
The toilet seat snapped down from it's upward position
my head lifted from the pillow and my eyes returned 20 20 vision
I cautiously checked it out afraid at being woken by such a random
and purposely provoked noise the suspicion of some supernatural force
Conspiring against yours truly, the dastardly witching hour I twitch
The neighbors air conditioning unit turns on I turn out the switch
And picture obscured faces on shadows that huddle in the corners of my room
In minutes I was back there, the place I always long to be inside slumber
Getting freaky on dream emotions, the outside world, it's real ghosts and fictions
well they could all go and perform leisurely fornication with the utmost friction
Because in sleep I was back there with those trillion visions
My circulating and revolving innerself's infinite collision
And so I couldn't care less about demons and phantoms' plight
riding dimensions to come haunt me between dawn and night
My flesh was abandoned I was somewere intangible
Somewhere purely theoretical
somewhere I had more power than over the physical realm
I move inside it all, even outside of it, happily overwhelmed
The little control I got creating a rhapsody in my head
Valuable ambrosia were these very words thread
into the boring dimension heavy overlit and thick
currently pretending to read this ethereal trick
Uncle told us of his ranch
great old place huge jaboticaba trees
Fruit that would swallow you whole
oversweet and moorish to the tongue saliva
He had us all piled into four wheel drives
Off we went and turned up on the red clay of the farm
fat widow jaboticaba trees weighed down with fruit
too much to pick disproportional size fruit
Kids piles out by the dozen to kick dry cakey clay up
into the air then pretend to headbut but dodged instead
Pretended to joke but laughed out loud instead
and Picked the jaboticaba fruit
feeling fat and overwhelmed within twenty minutes
diarrhea and calling for their mothers
Uncle just rattled off the stats of his new ute
Not even looking up to see who was listening
It happened at a party I really didn't want to go to
Each group were bunches of fruit waiting to mature
The young unsure needed medicine to focus through
The old too, couldn't celebrate without a strong cure
All of them trying to convince each other they had the answer
Music kicked up out of nowhere as usual not a single dancer
Big fields cultivating a species fat spongy fruit a taste to savor
Football size round sweet thick membraine all juice and flavor
Big trucks and advertising inviting everyone to the show
Almost noone moved and those that did were too slow
Some passed out, climbed and slept on broken pool tables
others told their heroic stories embellishing those fables
The time went down by seconds almost grains of sand
the music changed and hours arrived beer in hands
Then days sunlit for the field fruit yet to be appraised
Gatecrashers beating you to the accusation
Screaming who are you? Who are you?
Don't be dramatic, mother said.
Try to be like you old man, father said.
At the constume party I wore clothes that showed,
I was trying too hard, the forked tongue.
Mother said, get out there!
Father just said, be yourself.
Watching me fumble my words,
recieving polite friendly toned refusals.
In the hoax smelling mirror room.
My parents were busy trying to put on their best clothes.
Rings and hats and accessories.
Never satisfied wth the fit. Scales down the length of me.
I fogged the glass up with my nude body,
it was all too real for the reflection, fangs squirted venom.
The hall of the costume party burst into flames.
Because a cigar fell near the six meter curtain.
It ran down from the ceiling wall like a beautiful dress.
Now in flames a satin nightmare obscene surreal.
The room transformed into one fat wide ember.
Ashes of brides maids and god parents.
Their gold and silver jewelry melting into the middle of the room.
In small molten pools fit for academic and sports trophies.
Or metallic gravestones with ogham engravings, serpent like.
Winding inappropriately through the vainglorious epitaph
Peering out from the mirror room.
just to see where the smoke was coming from.
Mother failed to repair the extending crack in the glass.
A snake extending it's body in the clear water perfection.
Father was looking for a mirror of grander proportions.
The deeper he went the more lost he slowly became.
The heat of the party room was intoxicating.
I stepped onto the ember floor with woolen shoes.
The rest of me naked and bewildered alien but flame resistant.
Noone saw me or heard me As I maintained the temperature.
Dancing, sparking droplets of flame on the smooth red hot floor.
The carbon slide marks matched the wrything track of a cobra.
I stopped, looked up in raw terror at the cctv monitors and cue light.
Blinking mockingly the block letters "perform".
Through the mesh wire.
Under the grapevine supports,
laughing for the afternoon.
For freetime freedom from supervision.
For the feeling of youth in the body,
changing and overwhelming whims.
I felt it germinate like a foreign seed.
I heard it move through me.
The desire to keep her to possess her fully,
even as the sultry dusk interrupted us with chill,
mosquitoes and parent's voices calling us in.
What kind of boy was I, what kind of man would I be
Would these experiences decide for me?
So when she drew away I could see some other kid,
had conquered her overactive heart so precious.
Beauty is immediate acute and overpowering.
Inner beauty is slow acting plum chronic.
Holding you up when you're broken,
robbing you blind when you're arrogant.
Growing on you even when you are absent.
The desire to keep her working into imagination.
I was barely thirteen and the giraffe joke surged ill wise.
Or worse old ones told us what they had to contend with.
The baby giraffe kicking out of the womb and standing firm.
Teenage boy unable to escape the sticky mess his own emotions
But if I was given a second chance I'd have kissed you.
Only apologizing later for the outrage of such impulse,
your disappointment, my shame might've even struck arousal
She was happily married
the light of the future lit her face
Her husband was passive and humble
They posed for the family photo
The light of the future
The internal hope erupting
Everything one strives for
The mix of happy memories
distilled into the present photo opportunity
Transformed into the colored sparkling balls
Christmas tree ornaments hanging off branches
That will wilt in weeks if real to begin with
Twilight there was a ghost at the bottom of the garden.
Sun appears to have given up such a pity we thought,
still it's light could be felt at the top of the drive.
Where us kids collected excitedly not knowing what was below.
Looking down to the bottom of the yard trying to get a look.
Down the hill over the rough outline of a driveway,
a shack stood exhausted and withered leaning south.
Like the figure of an old great aunt, one that just wouldn't die.
The sun still warmed us and gave us courage to stare down.
I couldn't explain exactly how it stared back.
Almost like a silent forbidden conversation.
An exchange of hellos but the response was from winter.
In a generous summer that us kids had harvested in fruit,
bright mornings, aromas seldom smelt and family holidays.
Now we looked down to something that defied seasons
and some wouldn't admit it but we witnessed the real ghost.
The ghost of a small child no more than six years old moving.
Passing along the bare broken picket fence that was losing the war
to meter high grass, fennel and wild ginger at the bottom of the yard.
There it was that little figure of light a child some wanted to embrace.
Drifting across that little back yard so solitary.
Inviting the dusk accelerating it with it's sadness.
Calling on the night as if it were a parent.
We were transfixed bewildered and naive.
We could see the twinkling effect on it's skin.
The white light with tiny sparkling strings of blue.
Beckoning to us and at the same time turning away.
Knowing we could never save it from it's eternal destiny
It's looped existance at the end of these incredible summer days...
I'm riding the bus too late.
I'm a piece of work.
Flying through the abandoned factory.
Magnetic steel dust rubbed between fingernails.
The real me escaped the furnace.
Burn marks healed.
My voice still mute.
Bound by shadows, I wait
The bus never came.
So I had to spend the night.
On a concrete floor.
The steel scraps an extension.
Night falls, the crow self dim rises within me.
Above the parapet over this faded building.
Roof.top phantoms sprint and leap.
Covering the city.
Specks of me...
Pass beautifully though the broken windows.
Climbing high into the night air.
Toward the merciless moon.
From the condemned factory.
Like tiny insects using the breeze.
Staining the night.
Tainting the night.
Steel dust sticking to skin magnetic to blood
Aren't I your favorite rounded friend.
I fit in all chairs but who cares,
I can smile or grin for any type.
Stealing your blush or glance.
It's all fun funky hugs that spoil you
smiles and cooing you're soon embroiled.
I am a warehouse of soft toys,the favorite meal
Isn't that what you seek, not how you want to feel?
Comfy and fluffy, esconced far from stress
softness just rubbing and calmly caressing
Seeking dimples and bright eyes
Give it give it wild wide smiles
enough of this false hot stuffing
you'll be mine
The clearing in the forest was also the stage where I was to perform.
The poser of a host spent his last minutes talking up a storm.
Just the every day norm, You were there blazé with a group so cool not to care,
The poser told me to wear the guitar and be bold, so I threw the strap over my shoulder
And recited into the suburban drizzle sitting there sleeping brain and heart holders
Would they absorb it and derive, any meaning for their boutique lives
I recited more, my voice crackling out like a cold kalashnikov muzzel
Squirting words all over the muddle of murmuring drizzel
Pretty soon I bombed not failed but exploded burning the bush off
Like a Ritual Brazilian tree cull but more sparks and nastiness
They woohooed on time as I rattled the tension with tropes of speech
I kickstarted their praise and euphoria i tickled their nerves peachy
I rode up inside the valleys of their fantasy and back out holding
little pebble size amphetamine jewels from their souls
Roof phantoms caught them and back home would smash them up and snought them
in bliss throwing words into my slumber so I'd conjure up the next number
Thus I make it all rhyme and force your mind to wander so luridly
With me behind the stage into fresh overgrown obscurity
I need vehicle size teeth with the power of industrial machines.
My stomach needs to be a factory with extra warehouses.
Spacious blinding light and lurid moaning for digestion.
Because I want to devour the city, eat it to the last standing structure
To the last standing tree and all the roads licked up and gone.
I'd eat this city cause the air itself smells so savory.
Don't let my gut rumble and my mouth salivate shamelessly.
The salty dust I do indeed have an extreme appetite.
Sunlight seems to marinate it all.
But it's not something I can fit on my plate.
Must I collapse it all with a million ton blade
even the delapidated tenements arouse the hunger
I need to consume it from palate to digestion
And renew my own foundations mmmmm.
Tawny cinema entrance
Silent clerk just observing
I went up to the digital screen
and scrolled down to the film playing
The huge foyer was empty
not an ant, not even dust
The coloful film ad appeared
It was jack black
He was a hairy baboon baby inventor
who created his own self rocking cradle
The rock was his father a dim bigfoot
unable to utter a word
As Jack Black articulated
sophisticated language.
It was christmas eve and some of the restaurants would shut to the public. Then anyone who wanted to stay there would have to pay through the nose for the ticket banquet.
They could stay all night feeding their faces and drinking until inebriation.
Near those big sophisticated restaurants there was a mexican taco joint. Five buddies were already waiting for me in there with drinks and food all lined up across the table as if they were just waiting for me to take my seat. The neon lights still beat the intensity of the afternoon sun. Lighting up the bench of wrapped food and drink with a blinding glare, that called me and at the same time stopped me.
They were shaky with excitement and anticipated jokes. It was going to be a rowdy christmas party.
As soon as I sat the jokes and laughing began and happiness hit me like a foreign t.v show, something I wasn't accustomed to. Their jaws moved too quickly, the laughing was infectious. Was life just a game afterall was it me that took everything so seriously in vain.
Now that would make me truly laugh. God stamping the redundancy of my seriousness or even a demerit point disallowing me to join the carefree friends who passed effortlessly through the pearly gates.
Me grabbing hold and recounting every good deed I'd ever done as if defending my job on the day of getting the sack.
They ate and laughed and vibrated as if they had already achieved everything.
I ate cautiously and tried to understand their jokes saying to myself that if I was able, maybe I could also give off the same aura and be the center of recieving all of God's love.
My awkwardness fed their hilarity like gasoline, If i told them what I was really thinking, they would most probably bust their lungs in loud bellowing uproars.
Die and be given their free pass and told... Thanks for enjoying your serene stay on earth.
Before entering of course they'd spend a few millenia watching the rest of my life chuckling away in the bushy altocumulus. Good to know I'd have an audience up there amusing themselves on my awkward seriousness. My questioning and judgement. Saint Peter distributing popcorn, some of the straglers from the inside of the pearly gates trying to rubber neck it down to my clumsy lot.
I pushed the weights
heaving them a little higher
My brother said why do you it
I said to not die early
He grinned and said it shouldn't be to avoid something
So I told him it was to look good to get eyes on me
To raise my libido to limits I hadn't felt before
To impress and attract good things
He said well aren't you a poser?
And I answered well yes I am
Physical exercise makes that easier
I put the weight down to grab something heavier
Matt told me I should have been on the job
I said the pay wasn't good enough for me
He shook my hand and said one day
Not knowing who I was
We walked together toward the meeting
It had been a good day for them
they had all had productive weeks
they wore smiles that radiated a feeling
They walked together and slowly
without effort they fell into a group hug right there
This is how they killed their anxiety
and for some reason the rapport was authentic
They turned and smiled wearing those invitations to bliss
They told me I could join them anytime
That I could have them, be them and share their emotions
Full of virtue and keen emotion that I soaked up
The pond had been dug just a meter down
rock features and a little island in the middle
men with spades stood back and testified
The work was finished rejoice
the water filled it up
clear and transparent
making everything make sense
soon live fish would be swimming there
The water kept pumping
we couldn't turn it off
it was like a flood
uncontrollable deluge
We went up to the control room
where the hoses were plugged in
We couldn't deactivate the system
Thus the pond just overflowed
The sack of shoes was huge.
Different sizes, lengths and styles.
None of them fit very well, I grin.
Some too big, some too small.
Some just too strange to walk in.
One pair open at the toes like Jandals,
so ugly I ignored them completely.
Another pair dark yellow wonderful,
yet the soles were worn down
Other casual shoes black and brown.
Elegent and polished but not for me.
In the end I discarded the lot.
I'd continue walking in the shoes I was already wearing.
I fingered the brace of her dress
I adjusted it as no one was looking
she pretended not to notice
eyes and face away from me
A conversation with the future across the table
Some man at the end of the game
almost ready for the euphoria and contract
She walks arm and arm with him uphill main street
Shops greet them with sneaky smiles
advertising and distractions
But her eyes were on the cobblestones
They stopped and she blocked the sun with her hand
staring down the full length of the street
Her back brace came loose
And he wasn't able to tighten it
as she told him to leave it
I was really was looking for the moon that night
all I could see was long thin knife like cloud streets
cutting across the horizon where there was a definitive red tinge
almost as if there had been a massacre devlish murdering cirrus
up further into the night sky to the first stars
That looked down at me and winked
That with their dim flicker called to me
Inside the quietness of the city
How the night humms slightly
as if the city was entertaining the night sky
seducing it with it's more abrasive light
The night wouldn't interact
For the earth was a large cauldron
The cities were those boiling ingredients
And the night was just a lid closing on the day
Ich suchte wirklich den Mond in jener Nacht
Alles, was ich sehen konnte, waren lange, dünne, messerscharfe Wolkenstraßen,
die den Horizont durchschneiden, wo ein deutlich rötlicher Schimmer lag –
fast so, als hätte dort ein Massaker stattgefunden, teuflisch mordende Cirren.
Weiter oben am Nachthimmel, die ersten Sterne,
die auf mich herabblickten und mir zuzwinkerten,
die mit ihrem schwachen Flackern nach mir riefen
in der Stille der Stadt.
Wie die Nacht leicht summt,
als ob die Stadt den Nachthimmel unterhielt,
ihn mit ihrem raueren Licht verführte –
doch die Nacht reagierte nicht.
Denn die Erde war ein großer Kessel,
die Städte waren die brodelnden Zutaten,
und die Nacht war nur der Deckel, der sich über den Tag schloss
O gece gerçekten aya bakıyordum
Görebildiğim tek şey,
ufuk boyunca uzanan uzun, ince, bıçak gibi bulut sokaklarıydı,
belirgin bir kırmızımsı parıltının olduğu yerde –
sanki bir katliam olmuş gibi, şeytani bir şekilde öldüren sirüs bulutları.
Gecenin daha yukarısında, ilk yıldızlara,
bana bakıp göz kırpanlara,
soluk titreyişleriyle beni çağıranlara,
şehrin sessizliğinin içinde.
Nasıl da hafifçe uğulduyor gece,
sanki şehir gece göğünü eğlendiriyor,
daha sert ışıklarıyla onu baştan çıkarıyor gibi –
ama gece karşılık vermiyor.
Çünkü dünya büyük bir kazan,
şehirler o kaynayan malzemeler,
ve gece sadece günün üzerine kapanan bir kapaktı
Chipper Samson at his desk today
The light pouring in from his huge blindless window
The intensity of it stirred him encroaching on his desk space
Hot steaming coffee next to his computer now sunlit
Focusing on the figures thinking over the strategies
Moving the mouse shakily in carpal tunnel agony
Stress invades the once smooth brow furrowing it
Bends down like an invalid, sends a text to his doctor
Then he stands up and stretches as if hands are holding him down
He catches a glimpse of the city six floors below mostly cool shade
He sees an old man, cheese cutter his rough collie walking in step
Their rapport stings Samson's ego, for his own dog is unruly
The soft yet intentional strides would be how angels walked in heaven
Samson decided, so much balance, posture and honesty in the movement
His own longing to be down there retired and relaxed urged resentment
He avoided the thought and swanned over to the water cooler
several colleagues were muttering in the code of their private joke
He seemed to irritate them with his mere presence so he turned away
as he did he heard them snigger was he entering as the butt here?
He turned around and displayed a smile so unnatural silence erupted
His colleagues were temporarily stunned and looked pale
Samson turned to walk back to his work station
The manager interrupted him and said
I love that chipper smile Samson, how about a raise?
Those dancing trees are basking in the youth of spring,
a tropical musky odor early briskly funky.
Those trees that shelter thick perennial weeds
randomly growing up under the trunks.
Close into the roots somehow able to share the soil,
hugging shade and dodging a sun that scalds and boils.
safety from the hot and dry pitiless main star
waiting for the bulls to park and pump out manure
The rest of the grass is short, yet green and herbivorous
These weeds are so upright they grow thick and vigorous
They shine with a houseplant swagger, one might pick leaves
To make sure it wasn't some elaborate artificial plant underneath
Bulls and weeds thrive at midday under those small canopies as heat spins
Roots that rise inches out of the ground slim arms and wrists grabbing it all in
Cities on fire
the antichrists have come
Racing along spacious empty highways
Racing down the length lazer quick
Their legs fly with lightning and tumultuous glow
A thousand miles an hour
Their skin like scales are flicking off
like guitar picks in the dry dismal winds
The swishing of their bodies
sings a song of crashing doom
They grow into great slothful bodies
necks extending and resting against sky scrapers
Wondering whether they can consume survivors
With their sharp silver electric teeth
Whispering in each other's datura shaped ears
fantasizing about fire
confused at the tenacity of the people
their ability to survive the incredible infernos
The ambitious curly haired woman
In the crowd of the outdoor cafeteria
A loud murmur of approval as she rose
baggy purple sweater skinny pink scarf
She put her hair in a bun
and her voice broke out with an echo
A feminine blow horn rumbling hearts
Pushing beliefs and idealogy
People took out little notebooks
to take down some of the pearls she'd hit on
People pushed against the front row
as if intoxicated by her inviting voice
She could trace the ambition of one
Lull the senses of the anxious
Cure an ongoing broken heart
Her miracles were trigger ready
Her team had us like human horse mouths
half submerged into feeding troughs
For all the love we hadn't recieved
For all the unmet needs
She converted you
like you were some cheap currency
The exclusion
join a tribe for life
dedicate your energy
sharpen the narrative
brush up on la haute societe
etiquette and pansage
Yet you were not included
Drop the ponce and pomp
the jizzy sparkly pretense
The mask for the group
Oh it's bleeding under there
stitched and bandaged be yourself
The reason I don't participate is...
She tried to explain to the group leader why.
Hot chocolate waffles were being passed around.
But for an audience of several hundred there was only five.
We were fortunate to get one it made us feel lucky.
At that same time we felt imposingly selfish.
She sat there inside that audience.
Jason mraz sang I'm yours.
It wasn't a spiritual revolution.
It was more like musical chairs.
Except the chairs were luxury apartments.
social privileges and rubbing shoulders with...
group leader's celebrity disciples.
Is it time to be selfish, to buy a new car.
To compare material things, no.
That's why I don't paricipate.
We compared my new car
it was valued over 300 thousand
One of my fat friends woahed
we talked about joy riding
First learn the art of bragging without speaking
Just presenting something to the cosumer glutton eye
their own capacity of guessing the value
A tinge of envy and obsession
I pretended to be Tom Cruise from mission Impossible
The taller handsome version that still had the money to afford such a car
I knew there would be the odd girl on the street that would swoon
This luxury car really spoke volumes about how important I was
I got out the expensive whiskey the one I knew the others wouldn't buy
The cigars went out too, the high class brand
They all pretended it didn't matter
deep down it really got to them
Buying stuff is all anyone wants to do
The man put on his sales face
Using smiles and encouraging "woah's"
Gestures that would draw you in
Then make you focus to see if there was magic
The arm came lightly at first
Then spread over my shoulder like a semi hug
The "I used to be like you" speech creaked out
Then chogged away like a locomotive
Overly confident cologne
To match that pompous baritone
a selling voice that would seduce a rabid dog
Practiced for years infront of the mirror
Hegseth sat back and combed his hair with his hand and looked like a confused gigolo.
Vance leaned forward and pinched his short beard, and frowned with his forehead.
Rubio stared with keen open eyes.
"Is this about the deal, did you get the photos and recording?"
"If you are afraid to say it infront of them, come up and whisper it into my ear.
Yes you can do it in private, but I will insist on it being recorded.
Yes the music in the background is "The heart will go on."
Celine Dion one of my favorites, the best the best, power ballads oh, mmm"
"Oh okay, oh okay, is that right?"
"So I used to have a little poodle back twenty years ago, acually it was my wife's.
beautiful dogs. Perhaps the most beautiful dogs that ever existed in history"
"what's that, can you speak up?"
"You'll dress up like a poodle for me, but you want me to cut the tariffs?
I'll tell you what you get into the poodle suit, bark exactly like from the recording we sent you.
I'll consider bringing those tariffs down five percent.
That's right, ah ha, slow dancing in the poodle suit to Celine Dion was the bargain."
"It's a great deal, for sure the best deal you're ever gonna get.
No it's not romantic. Although it will be beautiful, highly, highly beautiful.
I just like poodles, celine dion, and world leaders who will dress up.
Yes you have to sing. Stop crying, no you don't have to use a dog voice."
The car broke down about a mile down the road. Suzan and Tim had just left it and began pacing along a gravel footpath running parallel to the mainroad. All of this part of the country was foreign to the couple. They had lived all of their lives in the big city of Calder.
"How long did you say the next town would be?" Suzan asked.
"The sign back before the car coked out said it was three kilometers." Tim replied
"So it must be around two kilometers, we should be able to see the lights reflected in the sky by now."
But it was still dark, extremely dark, the way a night sky goes pitchblack when it is completely overcast. Neither Tim nor Suzan had felt good about leaving the car. they had left behind some of their luggage, the less valuable things. It was locked. But that convinced neither of them that their belongings would be safe.
"Hey Suzy there's a light up ahead." Tim said more matter of factly that with some excitement in his voice.
Suzy looked up and Tim pointed it out, it was very dim but clear.
The two walked, swapping between looking down at the semi-visible gravel under their feet, and the dim spot in the distance.
"What do you think made the car break down?" Suzan asked, seeking certainties.
"Radiator, probably. But then I'm not a mechanic and have very little experience with that kind of thing."
Tim looked away as if ashamed by the fact, he'd grown up with mechanics all his life, his best friends had known how to tinker. But Tim was obsessed with sports and not the car racing type.
"Can you remember what the name of the next town was?" Tim asked Suzan.
"Yeah, Lingham. I remember because it sounded strangely English."
Tim pointed up at the orange yellow light hanging two feet above a small structure that obstructed their path. A sign five meters from the light was reflected by the orange light in the dark.
"look it says Lingham bus stop."
"whew" Suzan's relief .
"let's check it out." Tim said confidently as if they had already resolved something.
They walked around and inside of the concave bus shelter. With a narrow bench that could probably seat five people.
"Hey look over here." Tim screamed. On the outer wall facing the direction they had come under the orange light was a small sheet of paper glued against the dark green wooden panel wall.
"It's a bus schedule we are saved." Tim said excitedly.
"really!" Suzan said.
They both stuck their faces as close as they could against the paper.
"we need to back off otherwise the light won't hit it." Suzan said.
"It just says bus schedule! There are no times or frequencies here. The sheet is blank."
Suzan said.
Tim took a step back, his grin vanished and he looked around as if they were being filmed for some kind of t.v practical joke.
He awkwardly gritted his teeth imagining an audience laughing at them.
"Ok I'm sure it's just somekind of mistake, let's continue along this path until we get to the next town, simple." Tim declared.
"I guess we don't have much choice." Suzan said under her breath.
They walked around the bus stop to continue their journey, briefly noticing the fact the path didn't go around the shelter it went through it, under it. As if the thing had been lowered down onto the track to save time.
"That's weird isn't it?" Suzan said.
"The whole thing is weird, from the color of the light, to the fact the stupid bus schedule has no times on it."
"wouldn't make a diffrence" Suzan said angrily.
"How so?" Tim asked genuinely surprised.
"when was the last time you saw a car pass us on this raod, it's two am in the morning."
Tim went dead quiet and the couple walked on in that same way, looking down to check they were still on the gravel then up into the night sky which was almost pitch black. Silence except for the scrunching of small stones under their shoes.
After about two kilometers Tim bravely broke the silence.
"Well atleast we have this handy path, it follows the road, there's no way we miss the next town. There'll be accomodation, restaurants and people to talk to."
Suzan was mute.
The silence was friendlier to Suzan, whereas Tim felt it's scorn. Of course silence doesn't have that kind of power. Our minds interact with silence, claiming it as savior or torturer.
Tim longed for any response from Suzan. And continued like that for what seemed hours of scrunching steps over those stones. The sounds the only relief from an unnatural deadening silence, that Tim felt would swallow him and digest him into oblivion.
Suzan tried to read her wrist watch, it was no good. it was too dark. she stopped, Tim stopped several paces ahead and turned around.
"We must have walked ten kilometers, we must have taken the wrong route somehow."Suzan said the first signs of panic in her voice.
"Impossible the road has been straight, there have been no intersections." Tim said reassuringly.
"It has been almost pitch black the whole way, we could have easily missed it."
This time Tim went silent. realizing Suzan was right. To avoid his doubt and dread he moved his leg into the next pace forward. Getting a small relief at hearing Suzan following him.
The path and the road didn't veer, there were no turns, it was dead straight and pitch black.
Nothing seemed to change about their surroundings even the vegetation they could slightly make out to their left growing parallel to the path was exactly the same height.
Tim slowed his steps to let Suzan catch up. So that the two would be side by side.
He took her hand.
"It'll be alright, i'm sure we will get to the next town in no time." Tim said calmly
"Did we hit anything before the car broke down on the road back there?" Suzan asked.
"I don't think so, there was a clunk sound and the motor blew up." Tim replied.
"Hey looks like a car in the distance" Suzan said excitedly.
"We can't flag it down." Tim said.
"Why not?" Suzan said.
"Besides the fact that it's pitch black and the car might hit us, the occupants could be criminals, it's probably almost 3am by now."
"Well no need to anyway." Suzan said with sudden resignation.
Tim still looking at the outline of Suzan.
"Why not?"
"Because it's just fireflies."
Fireflies that had formed the exact symmetry to give the impression of headlights thought Tim.
He almost laughed out loud, thinking about how funny it would be to be observing themselves from an outside perspective.
Suzan started to walk more briskly now. withdrawing her hand from Tim's. Tim's first insinct was to protest. But the he saw it, they could see the outline of the flat land with the horizon in the distance.
"It's the next town." Suzan said with awe in her voice.
"I think you are right." Tim agreed.
They both started walking much faster, as the distant glow still very subtle got closer and closer.
It looked a little like the first signs of dawn before the sun comes up on an overcast morning. Still dark but kind of glowing.
Tim and Suzan were now jogging until thy could see the slight glow lmost over their heads, the vegetation came into sight, the road was more visible. they could almost make out the stones under their feet. And still they accelerated now running.
They ran until their lungs and energy were exhausted. They stopped, looked up and realized that they were probably somewhere in the middle of the subtle glow that should have been light pollution.
Emitting off houses, streetlights, shops, factories and intersections.
But there was nothing there except the gravel path, vegetation that resembled some kind of wheat to their left, and the straight well paved road to the right. No traffic, no sounds outside of the sound of gravel underfoot.
So they moved forward.
"I still can't make out the time on my watch. I think it's 3.30am." Suzan said.
"Let's keep walking." Tim replied.
"What do you think is making this strange glow." Suzan asked.
Tim's mind went straight to a gargantuan floating film studio a surrounding stadium of seated people laughing hysterically at the predicament they were in.
"It's probably just the moon behind the clouds."
Suzan laughed.
"What else could it be?" Tim shouted defensively.
They both kept walking this time keeping their eyes on the very vague line of the horizon.
"It's get darker." Suzan said
"Yeah we seem to be moving away from the glow" Tim agreed.
"Should we go back? I think there was a box of matches in the side pocket of my clothes bag in the car."
"No we have walked over fifteen kilometers, I'm sure of it."
"What would be the point of that..." Though it kept getting darker and darker. Even the steps they were taking seemed to be more muffled.
"Okay, maybe it is a good idea." Tim conceded.
Just able to make out the margins of the path Tim and Suzan turned around.
They walked back toward the glow they had left behind. It seemed dimmer somehow now to both Tim and Suzan.
"Wait a minute it hasn't gotten much lighter I can hardly make out the road nor the plants here at the side of the path." Tim said frantically.
"Tim are you sure the car broke down?" Suzan asked.
"Yeah, I'm not a mechanic. But the car wasn't working anymore."
The couple walked on in an uneasy silence. Suzan's last question was now doing loops in Tim's head.
Are you sure the car broke down... Are you sure the car broke down...
I was abandoned by my followers
my family, friends and above all now I'm Godless
When i looked up and prayed knowing myself less
A reply came down telling me to embrace lonliness
So I made my home in a deep cave
and learned to see in the darkness
I the pale creature the human hunting gecco
deep inside shouting out just to hear my echo
through the corridors and chambers insanely
searching for ears and invisible frame
I pale, each passing day, thin and mean
moths and spiders are just not enough protein
Inside here the quiet lulls me to sleep
Entry intruders open the peepers
I imitate their voices to distort their echoes
triggering their curiosity ushering them further in
a passage too far and it's right into the dark dim
There is no day and no night
edged into panic your whole crew
Must be a way more you can do
go deeper go further shout help
you may find your way out
the lamps slowly go out just as you see a quick shadow
something walks behind the stalagmite a low howl
No sermon or chase suspense, no razor sharp claw
just a hungry pariah here to eat you raw
I escaped an exploding supermarket
running up the hill breathless and effortful
Onto grasshopper avenue
where the old and strange stayed inside
so much needless concrete up there
So much incline and many pained faces
faces reflecting the pavement in them
hardened and dirtied skuffed even
These were the ones who still attended church
as if it were a profession
The same dusty concrete reaching up
holding up that spire
silently callous
Those swords that cut the people down
hands that shivered in the frosty dawn
smiles turned into shocked faces of doubt
hollow nightmare they begged let me out
The killers and their victims sense of death
That traumatic experience until the last breaths
last screams, those last drops of blood had fallen
swinging sword stained and blunted still calling
Bodies all lay awkwardly beside guts
severed and exposed lifeless cold cuts
reddening the river creek once clear
flowing simultaneously to tears
deafening pleads they still hear
drifting downward from the eye
