“The Push”
Like an admission
In the dark,
My sweat beads and stains
This shirt I kept
As a memento
When I said goodbye
To playgrounds in general.
The stink of puberty
Wafts from the sleeves,
Giving olfactory senses
A reminder of what uncomfortable means.
But do we ever really
(Get comfortable)
Because the ride from
Here on out
Makes us yearn for the days
Of slides and monkey bars,
Nap times and milk breaks.
When going outside the lines
Was standard,
Summertime was when
We got to be ourselves,
And confusion was the name
Of that three month period when
We realized why women
Scared us, forcing us to
Think, talk, and act differently
Towards them.
I kept this shirt as a memento,
Reminding me of why I said goodbye
To playgrounds in general
And reminding me of what
Uncomfortable means.
Blood spots give way
To memories of first nosebleeds,
Uncoordinated swings, and
Pride of bruised knuckles
From holding our own.
Salty spots show years of tears
Soaked up after pets passed on,
Broken bones and first dates
Gone horribly wrong,
Anxious to hold the hand of
Someone who may or may not
Feel the same.
This shirt holds such painfully
Good memories that it’s as
Hard to keep as it is
To get rid of.
Purgatory’s Visiting Hours (1/30/00)
Bed sheets stained with love gone bad
Children wish they never had
Been born to those so full
Of hate and lust…
No saviors to protect them,
So innocent and just,
So bambi-eyed, so mouth agaped
As vulnerable ears heard mommy raped
And crying, on her back,
Dying,
As daddy left to gulp devil wine.
Sphinx Song (6/30/00)
Oedipus saw right through me tonight
And left his eyeball on my dresser;
An unwanted guardian to watch over.
Predict me my future, show me my fate
Get it over with so I can decide
Whether I want to change it or not.
Spin me a riddle and everytime I answer
I’ll give you the wrong one.
As long as you laugh, it’s okay.
Sure Atlas Shrugged, But What Were The Consequences? (9/15/99)
When Atlas shrugged,
Sympathy went out the door
Kicking the dirt off its soles
And letting it fly to every which way but us.
We seem to have lost that small part of ourselves
That shows compassion to someone who needs it
More than we do.
When Atlas shrugged,
Apathy put its foot in the door
And Atlas showed us the gesture that
We’ve taken on as our own:
“Fuck it. I don’t give a shit anymore,”
He seems to say, letting us roll down his back
To connect with his heel, landing us in the gutter,
Eventually leading us to our own deconstruction.
But we just shrug our shoulders and keep on
Moving on, kicking the dirt from our souls…
Or at least, so we think, when in all actuality,
It keeps piling on, caking over what little humanity
We had left.
And when we’ve had too much,
This dirt inside us shrugs its shoulders and says,
“Fuck it. You never gave a shit before.”
The Universe Is Right on Schedule (11/30/00)
On the cusp of a dream
I dreamt a thing
While on the verge of waking.
I had peace of mind
While my mind lay in pieces,
And someone massaged my soul.
We stopped somewhere along the way
And inhaled the red
Pricking our fingers on the speed of life.
Good Morning Creation (12/03/00)
Like a light blown up in front of me
I skated on Saturn’s rings
And tasted the wishing star
On my lips.
It was the nectar of Gods
As they smiled down upon me
With a mouthful of supernovas
Blinding the Galaxy’s first born son
Who sat in a garden eating fruit
Of a million unborn sins.
Reflected Through The Looking Glass (12/12/00)
There was a time
(When I was a young caterpillar)
When I had my own mushroom
To sit and smoke on.
I’ve since quit
And travelled to the other side of
Wonderland,
Making friends with
The Queen of Spades
Who has shown me that
Roses are not all that they seem
During that odd time after dusk
When nothing can happen
But everything feels like it has.
And I end up back on my mushroom
Smoking.
There was a time
When Alice visited more often.
Azure Interlude (02/05/01)
She dreamt of the stars
When her head swam
Too close to the moon
As harps of angels
Lulled her to wake
In the tail of a comet
Ridden by a spaceman
Not wanting to go home.
She had the milky way
Across her brow and
Stardust on her cheek
That glistened in
The absence of light
That starry afternoon.
The ring around her finger
Held the signals sent from
Her special traveller
And now she needed to find him,
Alone, as she dreamt of stars.
Martini Courage (03/22/02)
When faith has broken
And the bottle’s open
I wonder if I will have the heart
To let you go.
It’s hard to read you…
You hide yourself in spades
Knowing I only speak in hearts.
It’s hard to keep original thoughts
When this isn’t the first time
I’ve played the fool
In this play with
Too large an audience
To speak soliloquies.
A Lifetime In Tiajuana (04/01/01)
There was a room
In southern Tiajuana
Where the dust was moist
And the equator controlled
The senses.
A dark street lay dormant
Until morning,
When vermin would wake
To their last sunrise
As the streetcleaner passed by,
Following the sun’s arc
Through the haze of today.
A glance of porcelain through
A third-floor window
Stirred my appetite for a companion
Of the female variety,
But I stared from the street,
The heat dulling my nerves
As I push on, trying to find
The next alley to pass out in,
Deftly hiding my change cup.
Untitled (12/14/00)
Born from a spoon
I swim through your veins
Making you second guess
Your significant life.
I can sever clouds
If that’s what you’d like…
In fact, I insist
That your life end with a whimper,
Face buried in the carpet
As I bury you
Behind the back of
All that you love.
Just a little pin prick.
Compare Me To Sisyphus (9/14/05)
Compare me to Sisyphus
And I would laugh at you.
My boulder is bigger
My mountain is too,
Yet I never get to the top,
The fruit of this Tantalus tale.
What entity is pissed at me?
What have I done to deserve
This misfiring of synapses,
This mental tug of war
That’s breaking me down
Like pills in slow suicide.
A marble slab with
No obvious weakness
And my sledgehammer’s not
Making a dent.
There is a murky sea of faces
On the other side
And with a slow realization
It is necessary to get through
Because it is killing them
As it’s killing me too.
Untitled (11/21/05)
I’ve put you all on pedestals
So I could see you rise
But in the process I’ve lost
My self to sacrifice.
Regret is not the game I play
If i’m playing one at all
I’d do everything the same again
To make sure none of you fall.
I’m just noticing an envy
And questions previously un-posed
I’m feeling naked, down and dirty
Wond’ring why I left myself exposed.
I’m reaching out to blackened sky
And grasping thunderbolts instead
Love, acceptance, and jealousy
Vying for control of heart and head.
Frustration Be Thy Middle Name (11/22/05)
A tisket, a tasket
There’s too much love in my soul’s casket
That I can’t verbalize it properly
Black emotions on white canvas like
Swarms of flies within a blizzard
Feasting on the dead of winter
Leaving carcasses of longing
(for the touch of)
Electric skin, heart beating loud within
And legs like silk and honey interwoven
Into being and non-being
Because neither of us knows
Quite what we want or need.
And as a faithless man I pray
In eulogies of non-committal
Sending Seraphim arrows the other way.
Swallow Me Whole (11/22/05)
Those celestial eyes
Devour souls and hearts
Like a woman possessed
Of passion and chaos
All rolled into one magnificent
Syren, beckoning with smiles
That grip and never let go.
My reality has shifted and
I’m not in the position to complain
Fully.
Metamorphed and protean
I march into the mouths of angels
Willingly, standard flapping in the wind
Tattered and torn, but proud
Thinking of the death of the past
The birth of the future
And the growth of the present
Into something I can touch, taste, smell
And then relinquish to these pages again.
At Night (11/23/05)
I smelled sunshine exploding from
Follicles of mahogany,
My arms a cage in the
Azure midnight air.
Warmth of two enmeshed made
Little use for coats, and
I could see my thoughts
Swirl and pontificate,
Philosophize and materialize,
Form, die, and form again
Phoenix-like
In the air before I
Could hear them.
This is what Orion sees every night.
The Chaos Of Thought And Passion (11.27.05)
Heart and mind, together linked
From can, through string
Like phones in adolescence,
But underlying so much more.
One fails, the other takes over,
Likewise and vice-versa
A true balance never fully found
On the tightrope
(We all walk on.)
Intimations, Bad Imitations,
Intimate, but from a distance
Like watching someone else
Enjoy your life through their
Celluloid eyes and not
Share their popcorn
When you’re dying just to
Throw some at the screen
And scream
“Don’t open that door!”
Because you don’t know what’s behind it either.
11/23/05
I saw me through
The pen of you
All scribbles, shades, and contours
In metallic etchings
And remnants of erasers
On badly worn paper
Holding locked up thoughts
From years before.
Imagine that my portrait
Ends the journey of my thoughts
Although it’s far from over…
There are words I haven’t thought of.
12/03/05
This distance is so much harder
Than the one we grew accustomed to.
The “what ifs” outweigh the when
And then
My fingers reach for my lapels
Instead, clutching the fist of my emotions
Pumping it wildly
Forcing life to ebb and flow
Again
As if it had ever really stopped.
I chose to be here,
Dangling my heart in front of me,
Making me the ass
That follows blindly.
12/08/05
I’ve been your marionette for too long,
Dancing on heartstrings,
Too deaf to see what you were,
Too blind to hear what you were really saying.
I cup the smoke of memories in hand,
Watching as it seeps through the cracks,
My fingers not what they used to be…
Not as strong or confident,
And I inhale
Because I relish every minute.
Inspired by Jeff Buckley’s “Hallelujah”
12/13/05
Well it goes like this
The fourth, the fifth,
The major fall and the minor lift
The battle of thought
Between the left and the right
Aortic in nature, forged from the mind.
Strapped to the gurney that
I could get out of…
I lay here unimpeded, though
I’ve got big plans in store
Making movies of my life
And making music for the score.
Making images that sear the brain
And rip the heart in two…
These tears are deadly
And I’ve got so much more to do.
12/14/05
Plain and Simple
I’m fumbling with words
To give a better explanation
But I’m coming up with nothing
Because I’m sweating desperation.
My hands are palsey-shaky
As I try to clear my voice
And sort through all the diction
For the phrase of perfect choice.
There’s a thousand things I’ve said before
A million more I’ve thought and meant,
But in every hurtful thing I’ve said
Your tears weren’t my intent.
I’m fumbling with feelings
Because it’s all I’ve ever known
And though I’ve never tamed or conquered them
I know they are my own.
The only thing that I can do
Is offer up myself
And hope you don’t misread
All these novels on my shelves.
You’ll laugh, you’ll cry,
You may throw a book in rage,
But know that what you’re reading
Is just me on every page.
Too Much, Too Fast
12.18.05
Feel these thoughts of mine
Burning hot like fevered skin
Unique and powerful
Like a sky of unborn sins.
The floodgates were unlocked
What seems a century ago
The cork is popped
The glass is full
And now it’s overflowed.
These hands are ever moving
Trying to keep up with new ideas
But not coming nearly close enough
To achieve the sound
Of one hand clapping.
I’ve got cerebral TNT
And the shortest fuse alive
Something’s coming close to blowing
And I want nobody in the way.
Out Of Sync
12.18.05
I’ve got blue notes on the brain
Like “Bird” shot it in his vein
And it bring hazy afterthoughts
Of cigarettes and bourbon
And a 3 a.m. session
Of banged out fusion
And conversations on octaves,
Arpeggios and floozies
And late-night stumblings home.
With music case in hand
And mouthpiece hanging 'round the neck
This is the era
I should’ve been born in;
Lack of prohibition, Hedonistic Bohemian
Word-spun traveller soaking it in
Documenting history with my mental pen
Not a moment is missed, not a note is lost
There’s a sternum-rumbling bassline
Played by fingers blessed by God.
A kick drum just in rhythm
Like a war tribe on the hunt
And the trumpet’s mourning wail
Like it’s just lost its first love.
All three together
Bring the chaos-causing crying
To a low soft moaning wail
And though I might forget
By noon-dreams,
I’m going back again.