There once was a man who said you could beat the world with your words. That you could conquer an army with the knowledge of a greater narrative and move the legions of many with the action of one verb. I want to believe who ever can recreate the frameworks our race. The foundational narrative of our moral ethic, the guidelines mankind has been leaning on for millenniums. I want to know a alternative story, with made up words and no respect for a-priori intuition or tradition but a legend of unabiding experience that is unlike any tangent or discourse known. I want to reinvent another codex.
I saw god as the architect I consoled in the grand tree house, with the grand green house sitting in a quaint english archway. The telescope room was laid with bricks and from it I could see all that made me content. I felt the time changing before my eyes. Whether I was in compromise or not was entirely up to the seasons of zeus.
I am now never afraid of myself, I almost died and I remember it all. I have known fear and still revere the quenching of it's animosity. I am only a swerving flake of inner rind. I am all that is exhausted of my honest dive for humanity. I am me finally, a shell no more! Man is the helplessness of lost spatiality in his own timid surrealism. I have never been satisfied with the explanations no matter how exhaustive! Revisited by the techni-color outlook of the turning millennium craze. The alleviation of all hopes when they turned out a dead end inthemselves, a lost avenue of my childhood.
I guess we all wanted that age-old rampant abuse of youth in ways that were neither aesthetically pleasing or unifying towards our own, best. I was tired of the beautiful sprites I grew up with. I was tired of locking myself in closets at nights and rubbing my face into the it's knotted carpet floor. I'm tired of the songs that advocated joyful frolicking into the drapped daylight. The oddities grow old and the used up phrase are clique now. I lost my mind seeing the years of my language frightened by the sound of my own breath. Grow into yourself. I am done with you anyways. I am done seeing them engulf a titanic drift of colorful intentions; flirting around the grand bonfire of the uncreated experience. I am lost with them. I question more than just our own value and I resign my thoughts on themselves for their own wealth and safety. When you want it said so bad but the forces of those unforeseen, creative hives oscillate and never stop it's steps into the night-legend. Then the world ends and was never in out of tension. I electrify my time and run into the a.m. frantic like a monkey, waving around and jesting my arms. I'm tired of the old music, in with the artifacts who architect the reverberation of my heart.
Your myth has lived into the century and I can see your ideas into the lives of all maniacs and the honest young, the deranged youth. We are amidst a heavy tension, i cry again. I want my mother's words three times a day and more on my weak hours. I am content in the alien maze of my music and want only the childhood campers to love me like a king. They gathered around at night, around the campfire. They initiated the song and dance with gaiety rhythm; that was the nights stars collided into bedtime. The same night I was torn by the dreams of an old horrid man who gave me no name and no rest from tear and horror. What evil is an anonymous the Will that censors awareness and knowledge. If it kills
So what then of the tribal pack psyche we all inherit. In days where beauty was up to chance. Our proximity to a woman was determined by breeding patterns and the realm of funds available for travel and food. What now in these days of the internet? When the whole world is at the tops of our finger tips and even more far away is the understanding we gain of our inability to have the cream of the world. We are in a great exaggeration of ourselves, of our will, and of our determined out-come. We have little but the pessimisme of our predecessors to guide our philosophies application. The translation of dream-world is perfectly out of reach for us and always for our posterity. From here on out we are a new age. A new age whose gates are christened by the ungenuine thugs and malevolent brand names of our civilization. We are faking it till the end. I am scared and drilled by horror and filled more with black premonitions. I wish I had eyes to see myself with a more generous charity but I don't and neither do you. What you see is an age of outward anticipation for the soring ribbons of undone realities.
The artist is the one who has seen the broad fleeting wisp of an out-of-world innuendo. It is the ethereal encounter with a cognitive defect that mimic as a supernatural sensation, this is seen by the artist as true humanity and rightfully so as it brings him to tears.
I always forget that we are always on the cusp. That we are simply a few bruised years away from reveling in the stained, sealed golden sunlight of the age that has came. What we do now is entirely crucial to our ability to be in unending sorrow and remorse. We see our people in a clearer way, for what they where struggling with, for what their reverie finally came to look like, ugly or gleefully self created, their vision of the world will always be our continual source of inspiration.
May you bow to no God
But live in the heart of Sadness
May you Fear no Enemy
From Without or Within
May you Grow and Try harder
Of a Babe.
May you Be.
May you Love and Be Loved and
Love harder Each Moment.
May you Die and
Die the Death of a Babe.
This is what I think I want;
A heart that's mine,
Longing to love me and hold me.
I want to watch your eyes light up,
when you see me passing by.
I need you to chase after me,
because you forgot to hug me goodbye.
To tell me this is real,
and you don't want to lose me.
Tell me its okay to cry,
I don't have to do it alone.
Cause you will hold my hand,
and listen to my sorrows.
I want to lie next to you,
and hear you catch your breath;
when I run my fingers through your hair.
I want to catch the shift from sated to desperate.
Take me as you want, I am yours.
Love me recklessly, I beg.
I want someone to call in the night,
Just so I don't feel alone.
Someone to whisper that they miss my smile,
Even as I smile over the phone.
I want to belong to you,
Like you belong to me.
I need you to need me.
I miss that feeling
you used to give me
every time I saw you.
It was like a fire in my chest
that set my bones ablaze
and warmed my world.
It was like the stars aligning
as the Moon kisses the Sun
It was like seeing you again
for the first time and remembering
you loved me too.
But now the fire is gone
like a kindling in the rain.
And the stars seem crooked
against the dark gray sky.
Our love doesn't make me
breathless and excited
for the future.
My heart doesn't leap
when I see you.
Your eyes don't sparkle
when you say my name.
And here I am trying
so desperately to hold it all
I just can't seem to accept
that all we had,
all we used to be,
for a moment, the word stops breathing,
your heart quits pumping and bleeding in the
only healthy way it knows how.
there is silence—and then there isn’t, not anymore,
the sky is shattered by lightning and your
pulse jumps with every rumble, your body flinches with
every roar and the sky is turning far darker than it was a minute before,
the wind is like a turbine, going round and round and round,
tearing, ripping, and seething, you can see the clouds descending,
you’ve been through this time and again and you know the power
this twirling cloud will be rendering, you should be inside,
you can hear Mike Morgan yelling over the static of your TV
“prepare yourselves for the damage this will bring!
hide under mattresses, bathtubs, if you must under the kitchen sink!”
it’s coming your way, it’s picking up speed and you try not to imagine
what has made up the debris, you come to your senses,
realize it’s real, accept the fact that it’s not a drill, you grab who you can,
you shove them down stairs, you start counting heads and start saying prayers,
the cellar is dusty, you choke for clean air but it’s howling outside
and you know you won’t find any out there, metal is screeching,
someone is screaming, sirens are bleating out to anyone who cares,
it takes three men alone to make sure the door doesn’t tear off it’s hinges
in the height of the scare—and suddenly it’s over, you can’t here anything from anywhere.
the world again stands still, but it isn’t holding it’s breath,
it’s watching a thousand electric sparks die a last death.
you push against the doors, you need to breathe better air
and you can hear someone telling you that you need to take care,
but you push and you shove and you break free of your prison,
you climb out to see how your world has faired,
but there isn’t
Grasping, he took pretty scented flowers
shaped by sultry red wine,
beside a platter splayed
of charcoal knit and stockings,
sheer with three birdlike buttons and
fuck-me boots that slipped across
his shine-less finger.
Whispering weatherboard words
in her ear, before biting her throat
with a mouth that knew violent
seduction, she offers her heart
in her cupped hands
and between her lucid thighs.
He accepts, tucking it deep
within his pocket
before flying over violet seas,
beneath rose sky, returning
to a deluge of small embraces,
forgetting the depth of his corduroy,
parading his muscle
around a suburban dream.
Copyright ©2013 Le Chat Noir. All rights reserved.
Waiting at road side
Waiting at bus stop
Waiting for bus ride
Waiting at coffee shop.
Waiting for one sight
Waiting in blazing sun
Waiting for what’s right
Waiting with hand-on-gun.
Waiting for brotherhood
Waiting for justice
Waiting for all that’s good
Waiting for pure bliss.
Waiting for one call
Waiting for heart throb
Waiting for cute doll
Waiting for good job.
Waiting for surprise
Waiting for high tide
Waiting for right price
Waiting for joy ride.
Waiting for gold dime
Waiting for one flick
Waiting for good time
Waiting for right click.
Waiting for good luck
Waiting for letter
Waiting for golden duck
Waiting for better.
Waiting to have it all
Waiting for opportunity
Waiting for final call
Waiting for almighty.
I always pictured this one girl
I drew her out to have this gentle twirl
She would have long brown hair
Running down her back, so fair
She would have pale white skin
One hundred and one hair pins
She would wear the prettiest yellow dress
And she would be perfect for me
But she would tease you with what you could only see
She whispered funny things in your ear
You’re the only one who could hear
While we spend these times in your car
Everything parked and night afar
She would have these lovely curls
Wearing these hidden white pearls
She was what I could only imagine
The thought of her was my one true passion
We would run around with these engaged hands
And land at the beach into these old sands
You said to me, “Stop thinking of me, silly”
I never known what she meant
Until it came to me sent
She kneeled next to me
Gave me this long lasting sad smile with her perfect green eyes
Giving me these last sighs
“You’ll be happy one day, just wait a little longer”
I never had to make such a long ponder
My yellow dress girl vanished from me
Leaving me all alone with this open sea
Those last words took a great toll
Feeling like I was falling down this hole
All my love is genuine
Just love for me is in this pen
I write all these love poems
Hundreds of words for you my dear
I never meant to be so unclear
It’s true I lost you when I needed you the most
Creating these thoughts to stay as my mind host
Distracting these retired emotions
Setting these feelings with inventive motions
Erasing that flower dancing yellow dress
I will not be your tossed away mess
I've always cared for you my sweetheart
I’m just sorry that I broke your gentle heart
This is for a girl.
Your eyes, they watch me, following every wrong move I so naively make.
p u l l i n g,
phasing me; blinding and obscuring my, at one point, 20/20 vision.
You have kicked me while I am down.
How could I have been so stupid?
"You want me. We both know it," you whisper into my untrained ears, unsure brain and straight into my wayfaring heart.
You invite me closer
no matter how much I despise myself for it, I am continually choosing you over the One I really and truly desire.
Why do I do that?
The thunderstorm had ended
There was no longer lighting flashing across the sky
I had nothing golden to say tonight
So I laid my head down and asked myself why
Why can't I get you out of my mind?
So now the rain washes off last weeks misery
And I'm scrambling to find beauty in my words
I scream the deafening truth across seas
But still my love for you is unheard
I suppose there's nothing to do but sleep away the days we'll spend apart.
I'll close my eyes now & hope soon to hear the beating of your heart.
Tuesday 1:13 a.m.