nothing

Posted: March 10th, 2010 | Author: | Filed under: Poetry | No Comments »

Just a woman alone
Wanting to put it on someone
Music and whiskey
Wild teacher
Absence of loved apparent
What is the lost moment?
Captivating trance
Stay or go, but where?
Just want to share
My blue and green nails
Colors all over my body
The colors in my mind
I want to live in that trance
Everything else surreal
Day and night cream
Balled up fortunes
Longing for hidden talent
Stillness too hard to face
Personal belongings sitting
I am looking
The air in between
Sounds and motions unseen
Just me
Doubtable reality
An imprint will come out
Given the opportunity
China is unresponsive
Is someone knocking?
No one there
More whiskey, the last
An excuse to see
Is anyone at the door?
I walk in and out of these rooms smoking cigarettes


force me to…

Posted: February 5th, 2010 | Author: | Filed under: Poetry | No Comments »

Kill me now he will not stop.
I can’t even think; it is all over.
Keep keep no silence.
No room for me
Just this all surreal life
Which never ends
Just gets worse and worse
Until you want to stare
Off into nothingness
Idle dazed
A practice in patience
Will I die before I recover
Or will I break and kill
Will I stand and sail
Will I stay and mourn
Then triumph eventually
When I realize it is never over
Annoyance peaked
The words you don’t want
To speak to those who
You wish not to hurt
But you have to?
We do not know.
All I can do is lean back
Make a gesture of displeasure
While I listen to titanic
I don’t want to talk about
Nothingness, unless it is the kind
I experience
No small talk, just big empty
Abyss, smoothly furnished
Tears hung in mid air
Laws of physics and nature
Do not apply to my fear
It will not cease, only grow
Am I just exhausted?
Or is my world falling apart
Or was it… never is?
How about I say it doesn’t matter
Anyway, nihilist to the core.
It is hard to be happy when you
Cannot smile anymore.


swing

Posted: January 31st, 2010 | Author: | Filed under: Poetry | No Comments »

War of time
Battle of ages
Marked with ruin
Destined to dance
African face
Lit night
Milk cheeks
He stands alone
We watch
He rises
Our following eyes
Decline under the weight
Fire breathing
Everyone gazing
Shadow creeps
Faces ablaze
Swing jive
Bow jostle
Stomp stomp
Feel the earth shake
Watch the grass burn
Saliva dripping
Down all chins
A baby is born
We all stand
Our rocks still warm
Rattle little man
Move with the wind
Head back
Left right
Up down
We are still here
Captivated
All is in hush
Arms fall
Baby flailing
Commotion
Then
Silence


BBBB

Posted: January 31st, 2010 | Author: | Filed under: Poetry | 1 Comment »

Brief But Burning Bright or Ode to Christina’s Great-Grandmother

In the jazzy den of space,
All smoke and viscosity,
Big-swirl nebulas hang heavy
In the furniture.
In the dark corners, little eye-lights
Blink on and on.

Looking down at the rocks,
All wet with newness,
Big birds catch fire and crash
Into your deepest body
Of cool blue water.

Flung out on a lunar limb,
A million crescent miles rage before you.
Hugging the craggy underside of a cascade,
Missing your old mother’s mom,
Chest paining your breath,
Aches gnawing in your moonlight-white
Bones, she fired past burning bright.
In her way, in your fragility, you miss that bird
That flew by in your life,
Brief but burning bright.


not named yet and not finished. written in china..

Posted: December 28th, 2009 | Author: | Filed under: Poetry | 2 Comments »

Diamonds in Africa
Stone Bracelets in China
Rainbow thread in South America
A guy named Carlos
Baby seal soul on channel forty-one
Hair that can’t be cut with words
Ox atheist protection
Good luck and health
Little boy killers built by men
Everywhere
Pregnant best friend
White ladies with luring eyes
“I’m a print journalist, I drank it”
Americans buy the rocks
The whole race at gun point
Rush them aside; dismiss their life
The blind have the guns
Weak and angry with spirit
Rebels are taking the loot
While the drunken sleep on fire
Children lay their heads down and wait
To die or dance
Sneak through the light and smoke
Run through the dark and time
Dumplings and chop sticks
Forks and knives
Mothers and fathers
Offspring for sale
The great coiled snake dreams
He is a dragon
With pearls and rubies in his mouth
Blundering down the street
Confused as myth, secret as the meek
Raise the water
Kill the foe
Lesson the species, raise the price
Control us all
Refugee camps
Killing, trapping, enslaving
Doctors, lawyers, geniuses, better killers
All to maintain the imbalance
The axiom of power
The sacred comfort of few
The consumers who generate
The money to wage war
Control the supply and keep the demand high
Pay to keep the war going
How easy it is to brainwash a generation
Children walk in a line shooting
their blood bought weapons
While journalists swerve all over the road
Never getting anywhere besides
In a ditch
Quietly now, we must walk in the dark
With monkeys and crickets
Holding hands
Ivory, oil, gold, diamonds
Red roads
Sedimented death
Crass contempt, foreign liars
We build this world bone by bone
Blood white hands
No tooth brush just stench
Who are we
but those who didn’t die?
They all turn black
We are all each other’s own people
I guess we all have to kill a child sometime
Who are you working for?
Hunger turns us into irate irrational emotional fools
Ink turns us into mercenaries (martyrs)
Bombs turn us into insects
Drugs turn us into drones
Alcohol leaves us dry
Without memory of why
Pictures make us empty and others
Filled with envy
We are all slaves


the hurricane

Posted: April 11th, 2009 | Author: | Filed under: Poetry | 1 Comment »

the next morning, i saw her first.
i looked over her eyes, searching.
"i do what i like."
the water was up to their nostrils.
the little ones had long since drowned.
storm water stirred the sty-shit
into a brown, parasitic frenzy.
with the top soil washed away,
so went the year’s edibles…smokables.
so much loss.
such is life.
the children found out how long each animal
could hold his breath.
the rukus of the chickens fizzled out.
then the pigs, cows.
horses fared the best.
as a matter of course, the piglets squeal
was the first to go.
the humans survived,
but not through cunning or courage.
had they known of the oncoming storm before it was upon them, they would’ve filed in,
one-by-one,
to the cellar.
the flash flood would have entombed them
like so much canned meat.

she would have done it without sympathy:
interring their temples to the deep-sea cavern.
it would have been effortless for her,
to make their skin swell fat, to make their bloated bodies bounce on the surface and shine like ghostly buoys near a lighthouse night.


aight’ peeps’ here it comes

Posted: January 29th, 2009 | Author: | Filed under: Poetry | 2 Comments »

so i was sitting there thinking what could i do with this fragment of time, and nothing would serve me better than a quick stream of consciousness piece, judge me not for i am not going to edit. it just has to go.
how does this happen? all the time in the world being drowned away by every second being spent on some task we deem important? here it is there it goes. all our time wiped away into the crevices of our lives. humans think of themselves as part of an ecosystem, sure and we are all a part of a whole, i think everyone is so caught up with meditating on themselves as part of a whole that, some, perhaps myself included, forget to think of themselves as separate from the whole. regardless of all of everything going on outside my cell walls, i am everything that is going on within.
in this place, the hemisphere of my mind, maybe only an organ in the greater body of humanity, but nonetheless i can make some claim over all within my skin zone. everyone is doing something else right now and here is what i apply myself to.
what do we have time for? there is time to work, there is time to work at home, there is time to organize, there is time to find work, there is time to work on work that must be done in order to get work, there is time to dedicate ourselves to our parents, whatever that may be, whatever those requirements are. where is the time for love? is it squished behind in the dark shadow of the time to make money? love for the non-fraternal comes at a great price in this day and age. ironically the love of the family stays in place, sexual impulses still arise and must be dealt with, procreation is the purpose and that is where sexual desires originate from. so people still want to go around fucking each other, but love and commitment is something scarce. i am not speaking of already established family ties, in fact i am claiming that, say, a young man in this day and age can still be seen to dedicate himself to his family and his family’s desires, but for a young man to dedicate himself to love regarding someone outside of his family is less to be seen.
i wonder, the earth, the cell of our globe, altering through evolution, we survive thanks to divine, not godly, not something outside of ourselves either, but something greater than ourselves. we are a part, which makes us great, so when i say something greater than ourselves i simply mean something bigger and not yet seen nor understood by human consciousness.
point being, are humans evolving to slow down the birthrate of our species? is this why a young man can be seen dedicating himself to his mother instead of his new love, which he may at some time, wish to decidedly procreate with. he still wants to fuck, lovers abound, but his true dedication is to his mother.
is the human species coming to terms, evolutionarily speaking, with over population of the earth? patriarchal culture set for perpetuation excelled to he point of degeneration. The male dominated culture that has reigned on human kind for over 1000’s of years created an atmosphere of constant perpetuation of a paradigm that exists solely to perpetuate male dominance over the female. this has over populated the earth.
if young boys and men are taught of their superiority over the female class and even taught that the female class exists for their pleasure, what do you think the pleasure would be for most boys and young men? ask yourself the question, does sex sale? how long has sex been marketable to all nationalities? in every patriarchal culture, which is pretty much everyone since forever, not really, but it is predominate, woman must be suppressed in order for the male to seem that much more powerful. he gains his dominance through her suppression. man with his sperm has dominated woman to the point of over population.
the earth is in a serious crisis, actually like 50 billion of them. the earth’s environment is deteriorating. industry with all its chemicals, ice cap destruction, forest robbing and over fishing and the extinction of so many plants and animals i want to scream bloody murder. the earth, our keeper, body and mind, the origins of our very beings, the whole collective consciousness and planetary awareness, we are of the earth, we are the earth, and we are fighting back, or at least the evolutionary track has shifted.
women are still sexually, violently abused, mistreated. boys and girls are still indoctrinated to get together and sleep with one another. sex is taught as a natural and inevitable impulse, like something that is hardwired and completely uncontrollable by man kind. it is natural they say, manly men have sex they say, the cool girl is the one that puts out they say, peer pressure, fuck fuck fuck, but true love and penitence is paid to the already established family structure. the new woman gets fucked and the old woman gets loved, or discarded as useless when no longer able to offer guidance and unconditional love and support. the mother is loved, used, and hated when she is unable to perform her "natural task".

(earlier puberty rates because….

at this point i put my writing into word and saved immediately planning to plan and research.
freedom of thought is a powerful thing even if it is not spelled correctly.


hate

Posted: January 12th, 2009 | Author: | Filed under: Poetry | No Comments »

is a fucking 4 letter word


the tree out front meets december in tallahassee

Posted: December 1st, 2008 | Author: | Filed under: Poetry | 1 Comment »

untitled

hold out your palm.
watch tiny finger-fires burn
off your prints…the napalm
gently moisturizes your phalanges.

feels good like carpal-scarring arsonists
fueled a low-pressure fast front: forecast…
ash overcast will cause confusion &
memories of mausoleums jettisoning
their dusty collections.


Holidaze ’08

Posted: November 30th, 2008 | Author: | Filed under: Poetry | No Comments »

Holiday Madness is here
Consume, consume, consume
Smash your way into Wal-Marts
Trample anyone in your paths
Grandmothers fighting in the aisles
Sucker-punching pregnant women
Greed compels us forward
Lusting after the next hot sale
The world is mad, compassion is dead
So grab your gun and credit cards
It’s time to go shopping!