[FAILED HAIKU]
dream in sleep
the death that still weeps
now i am

fall away
from the noose we save
now i am

now i am
as she said i'd be
where is she?

dead.

[the new-ness of my heart]
what will the child
of
last week see?
what will he dream of? what will he
be?
akin and comparable---
a literary parable;
to
the modern symmetrical---
oral history
i think...
therefore He Will Be!
in spite of
light of
the moon-shine blood
of family
this child of only
one goddamm week (!!!)
this new light of life
this pillar, soon-to-be;
will harness and hold all the
lives,
all the deeds;
will tell no lies
being honest & free
He is the future...

(that once was me)

[aye carumba!]
even in portland...
{SCENE EXT. residential city street; view of sidewalk from across the street; wide angle; guy appears from off screen LHS carrying grocery bag with bottles, ear-buds in ears - head bops to music, ray-ban-style sunglasses on; woman appears from off-screen RHS in spandex running pants, tank top, head band, wrist-band - carrying a name-brand coffee cup, designer euro-style sunglasses on; both walk towards each other...}

the sun hangs still new and steamy from the remains of evenings dew as i
spy a power-walking 20-something with name-brand coffee cup/enima in her hand
(she looks like a single shot, 1-pump-vanilla, non-fat grande latte kind-of-gal)
she looks disdainly at me, even from a distance, and does not return my cheerful smile
me, carrying home the 2 new bottles of recently liberated/purchased cheap-ass-wine
at this tender AM hour; i just keep on smiling as Joe Strummer howls thru my headphones
and keep on smiling like a retarded person whose just pissed themselves.
the distance is closing between us, and the cars pass by on the street
she takes another look at this pretty-boy with the 3-days-worth-of-scruff on his face
i can almost hear the horse-like snort of disgust blast out her flaring nostrils
coupled with that cold, hard look of the judgmental hanging flat in her eyes
my smile nearly breaks into a chuckle my eyes would betray if not shielded by my shades
i nod my head as i pass and smile 10-times-brighter at the thrill of spite
a roll of her eyes, of the minimal sorts; the last declaration of contemptuous looks
then she's gone...
off to her jazzercise-yoga-yogurt-bubble-bath-retreat
back to her ikea-brand matched living & dinning room sets
and the luke-warm marriage to a similarly dull drone of a nameless cubicle workspace
onwards and forwards to chemically glaze her store-bought urban garden front yard
to the PTA meetings, city council meetings, neighborhood association meetings, etc ad nausem;
to make up new rules and regulations to increase both property and childrens values
out of my sight, and soon out of my mind - a taste of the OC pretension of home
slow-motion-run as i turn up the broken walkway to my non-association associated home
my front yard bares the scars of the decade's worth of neglect of the prior tenants
over-grown, ill-placed, and poorly groomed shrubbery infested with a spiders galore
entire genetic lines of un-known species lay hidden within clumps of dead leaves
plop down on the front steps amidst the scattered remains of cigarettes & newspapers
crack the cap of the cheapest-i-could-find bottle of red red wine
take a good long pull and look out on the world and think:

even in portland...
people suck just as bad as they always do and do everywhere
even in portland...
the human tendency for passing judgment on others still reigns supreme
even in portland...
Oprah leads a gaggle of stay-at-home-soccer-mom's in a Pied-Piper-ish way, to where?
even in portland...
the ugliness and depravity of our once-great-society shows thru...

thru the veneer of sustainability and so-called 'green' technology
thru the haze billowing from the just-outside-of-town-wood-mill/factories
thru the poster-perfect presentation on display every day downtown
thru the see-thu sugar coating of the last dance of a dying dream...
even in portland...
i live my life as i wish to be;
despite and in spite of everyone else
i am, and must be
ME

[ dearly catharsis ]
watch the pygmies take the train
spewing out short-range-radio-waves
up & out in all directions
clouding my mesosphere with their
toxic air
bad vibes jingling; undulating from inner ears
inducing shock and trauma to my parietal lobe
the scene dissolves into a Dali dream
and i percolate between the seams
falling faster in vacuum air
cocoon-like wrapped in a vacant stare
this is how they'll discover me
mummified in ectasy

[at the end of the bottle]
she woke me up to see she was leaving.
already packed with a cab on the way...
in the near-dear state of semi-sleep i could tell
she was serious
this time.
my bottle exposed beside the bare mattress floor,
the tenuous glue that once fostered love.
did i bother to brush the foggy cob-webs of dreams from my eyes
to say at last
goodbye?
would the morning cold and the sober chill send this raving beauty back
into the stupor comfort of my arms?
ten million stars snuffed out by dawn.
my arm goes out as if to draw her near
but ends wrapping the bottle
to finish the job.
the fire in her eyes boils over.
she unleashes hell verbose.
slams the door.
i hear her cry outside.
i cry
on the inside....
this bottle's done.

[tongue tied]
the cunning linguist
count's the several pieces
of his heart
on a millionairess/wife
then shoots the arab
with a stunning pair of
loaded 12-sided dice

[rad]


Lyrics | WIlly Wonka Cast - Pure Imagination lyrics

[paltry]
a
naked
heart
to
bare
the
soul
aflame

[gnosticy 17]
i dont particularly WANT to
meet all my deamons...
the near-skeletal-corpses
rotting away in my closet(!)
but circumstances prevail
&
previous stupidities mount up...
revealing choices...
(and ive obvously done a
FANTASTIC
job at those so far, hmmm?!)
but the closets' stench could reach
unbearable
what matters
now
(all)
is when

[spooky]
the ghosts' freeze us
with time we've passed;
tentacles deep---
into the doubtful hearts we have
memories of haunt & spice
we hold...
but, why?
---ive asked many,
none know

[the fall]
crushed between forces
in that proverbial place
so do yourself a favor
pack up & get away...
...you try n you fall...:|
cool enough to get it
still you give it away...
...you try n you fall...:|
tongue-n-cheek feelings
left looking for meanings
wipe off that love from
your face
prosthetic child
alone & defiled
no hope for getting away...

knows but still hopes for
some day...
still...

[daydream]
i will
pretend
i dont need you
since you
wont
let on that you
care

[muddling]
resistance breaks down
with a look that's mistaken
the need built from
childhood
& the years incubating
so it goes
one direction
same as it's always been
perhaps better off
just
masturbating...

[changes}
there are changes
aplenty
subtle & minute
drastic & revealing
changes in the wind
but which is the one that
chills me?
to the bone
the arctic blast sweeping this city?
or the impending alterations to my life?
changes
neither good nor
evil
---applied only in reference
changes
necessary & needed
changes...
come
regardless of our desires
or
because of
them
changes
happen

[contrary]
swallow up that pride,
my son...
& convince thy self that
love
, sweet love...
of story-book/fairy-tales
(lies,
each & every one)
believe what youu need
that its there for the taking
worth any effort (even breaking)
so try
try
TRY!!! (goddammit)
...so that when sober moments come
& the curtains open up
there is only
truth,
sweet truth
(unbiased proof)
reveals the obscene use
the loniness feared all along
(in time; & in youth)
cant be denied
accept it
its you

[vortices]
some how
some way
even still...
she moves
me.
unshakeable
like
gravity...
always
pulling me
in.

[perfected]
she moves in waves of audible light
& sways, sashays, in time
alright?
with stunning grace of the
instinctive kind
hypnotized...
shes hypnotizing...
lost into its rhythm
calling
from primal parts in hiding
deep dark corners of the mind
seductive
& sensual
every movement pre-defined
by ancient worship
rites
enshrined

[medal of honour]
draw in deep
hold that breath
heart pinned & worn
to my chest
no sorrow now...
whats done is done
stoic mind
forgotten one

[cold]
a krack! in the night & im up
the angels have stopped crying
distant sounds of the city
waking up...6am outside my window
its cold for october
all 4 days left
on comes saints day
eternal hallows eve
layered up, back in bed --- only to get up again;
hunt for, & find!;
beloved woolen socks...rarely to be taken off
again
til faithless spring equinox comes
bringing snuggie(tm)-warm coating of the sun
...
some driver passes below my head
stare into the nothing behind my eyes
imagination ---uncontrolled, wonders what these
people know; where do they go?
what dont i know?
...a great many things i suppose...

...like mental self-control

[contemplative compilation]
tell me,
love,
what should i be?
a comatose
or
lustful plaything?
a mind inside
that
rants
& raves?
a foolish
boy
no one
can save...

or something less
you throw away...
?

its 9 am now
& i must
awake
to fill the void
that love
forsakes...
& in my hole
where i
debate
the casual
happenstance
of life
led fate;
no sign of life
yet
to
contemplate...

...so much
strange
experience(s)...
to try and find
where
love
was spent...
1000 times
it came
& went...
on flames
of wings
that dreams
have sent...
...but left me
with a
hole inside
that which no one
gets...

tho once the mind
gets
set
then the wheels
they can have motion
& nothing, then, can
stop
this beast from going
like the planet
ever turning
& the people
always moving...;
if i could find
a moments choosing,
i would,
of coarse,
choose the one thats
losing
...thats just me
living poison.