i don't want to go down screaming,
but i know if i looked out the window and the plane was on fire i'd be screaming the loudest-
some unearthly sound bellowing out from my h.pylori gut.
my mouth; wide open catching dust.
and what is that? "i guess that's fear", they would-
i can't do anything so i'm gonna pin back my ears and open my roundest hole and let it loose. let her rip. like a donkey.
like a sad sad reality that equals nothing,
just screaming and screaming and screaming and i can't do anything.
the plane is already going down.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 6:57 PM UTC
It occurred too
As most things don't to me
That these lapses
Lapses?
What were we on
Obelisk over 40
Or is it over and then under.
¿Cuál es tu animal favorito
I've left the list behind on the plane and not
I'm not sure I can collect my thoughts that way anymore
At least not for today
Why? I left those thoughts on a plane and it has already set its tail aloft for soft breezes
The air the air, soft as Fred Astaire
And Ginger Rogers, is the night
She wraps her hand into his
8 steps forward and a shuffle ball-change right.
But it is something else isn't it
Her bird like hips in a double tiered dress dripping with Swarovski and trimmed with ostrich as she descends the glass stairs from heaven onto a dimly lit ballroom
A slight curl of the hair and the sharpness of her nose the counterbalance to the wave of her *** in that beautiful ******* dress
Oh and Fred? You keep up. You do.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
Simon
I'm a rock
I'm not sure the things I was before
Or the could and would of it all
But i know surely that now I'm a rock
And I like it like it were mine
Because it is now
This rockiness
Has become the me inside of mes me, yes I am here
It is me?
This time Henry, simon is what I meant
It's about you, its about you
And coming undone
But as you find me in the whirlwind
In the marriage that lasts for 35 years
The having a kid or drowning of such kid
Of the yacht set to sea in the highest of marsh, of dune.
It's land I see!
A rock a rock
And not much more
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
I am full bodied,
fully breathing,
fully reaching, weaving, and sometimes achieving-
fully grieving,
for a father who always kept me reeling
and a memory of him that has kept me believing
in a time i will see his face again.
I am fully alive,
fully seeing,
fully felt, and fully feeling.
There are times that I may not seem fully there
by the look of my glassy stare
but it's because I am way off dreaming-
day time streaming-
imagining some elaborate fantasy
of glittery toy mountains
where the red snow is seeping-
so red faced and gleaming-
pleasant and fearing.
Hushed and blanketed
in the throws of my far off mind
as I create a reality
that soon behooves my own.
I am fully wanting,
fully needing,
sometimes wrong,
and sometimes deceiving.
And if I've hurt you
with my veering
I hope you will someday know
that my actions were abstractions-
fleeting distractions from the passion
I felt for you-
and for us.
And before the breath has left
the darkest caves of my chest
I hope you will forgive
and embrace me
like you do night after night in dreams,
where you slip beneath the sheets
and say you love me once again
and life for us will have just began.
I am fully hated
fully loved and loving,
yet there's nothing in this world
that has been more becoming
then being fully the person that i am-
the good, the bad,
sometimes ridiculous,
sometimes sad,
but mostly prolific way of being,
that keeps on keeping.
Maybe i will never fully understand you
as you will never fully understand me,
but lets come to terms with the possibility
that we will find some sort of peace and gratifying ease,
in you being fully you-
in whatever term that will come to mean,
and me being fully me-
with all the joy, light, darkness, and pain
that this life may see.
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 7:23 PM UTC
Your red tide
is burning rust,
making newly polished things
out of polished things
we once bonded in lust.
And at the bottom of this ocean door
lay the dead skeletons of dead fish-
their ivory bones gleaming and moored
like pretty faces,
handpicked and carved,
from the prettiest crowd.
So beautiful these dead reminders,
hanging from a Christmas tree-
hanging from a gold chain on my neck-
hanging from your mouth
like a *** of spit ready to fall
into the ocean,
to be drowned.
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 12:03 AM UTC
Coming undone from the strings in my throat
that say a little too much or a little too little
They don't know their Femalien place,
in this masculine **** race-
So with raw heat boiling from the pit of my genitals
and dew drops glistening on my *******
is it possible that we females are maybe playing the maleful jest?
At best, could a man see that he takes not
what he owns not
and what he owns not-
Is Everything.
But oh,
no no no no-
no no no no no no no,
you're a big man
with your big purply veined ****
coming out of your ears
and vomiting your man juice from your mouth,
don't you feel like a big man now?
As I slip between your skinny pleats
your manly desire,
your teeny weeny *****
and swim about the valleys of your frothy tongue-
I'll get the flooding of your wallet
the more I scream "oh yeah baby,
I want you to *** *** ***
Yet as so far as real love can be concerned
real love does not exist here and in return
it is rain rain rain.
Heavy ******* rain on the blank canvas of your face.
I'll paint a pretty picture with your blood,
you could stick your detached eyeballs
in the mud
and we'd be happy, if only you lost those ears-
pesky things, I'd rip and tear,
tasty treats, your biggest fear,
to be a deaf and blind man
with a women in your wake-
or in your way-
or leading you-
You are not sure.
But ****
it terrifies you-
To the core.
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 10:05 PM UTC
spiritfiregoodgirl
don'tyouwishitwasarealworld?
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 9:06 AM UTC
oh i'd like to drive an escalade
but my feet can't reach the ground-
i am sure it was only yesterday
money rained like drops in a drought.
well that's life, that's life,
no, yeah-
that's life, that's life.
this heart leaked flames into the sky
so the gas man shut it down-
now it shoots to aim but it shoots with doubt
you were good but your fire drowned.
well that's life, that's life,
no, yeah-
that's life, that's life.
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 9:02 AM UTC
you sleep.
awake. these eyes stare into the thick wall of fog
surrounding the building.
the city has vanished
into pixelated water drops floating by my window-
there is no way out.
you sleep.
awake. these eyes watch a whole season of Skins-
Tony was hit by a truck-
season finale.
no solution,
no way out.
you sleep.
you are not here, but you are in your bed sleeping
and dreaming,
or possibly just stage 4 sleeping
with no intervals of florescent scenes-
it is no matter.
i am far away, reeling
in my bedroom
which is deceiving in name alone.
you sleep.
I lie awake, night peering. night scheming. night dreaming
with eyes wide and white and ready
for a new lover to come and call.
although the story doesn't behove us all
and maybe it's not a lover I seek at all
but some collection of contentment
to make steady eyes grow weary
under the heavy potion of security
that could come with drowsy resolutions,
but never will come.
at least not
for me.
Jun 6, 2010
Jun 6, 2010 at 10:17 AM UTC
An Ode to my greatest love, Sleep.
May you never grow tired.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Every time I wake up
I just want to make up,
Another reason
To be with you.
Me, you.
Traveling fast down floating hallways.
So many doors of possibility,
Free and expensive outlets
For us to spend invisible cash-
Which is really diamond factories
In my fingers and with every touch
There lingers,
Glittering particles in our wake.
Lets go to far away concrete jungles
Or wander fast on psychotropic trips to
Miniature red rocked planets
Where the struggle for good begins and
An ominous unknown looks down from the sky.
I’ll play the star
Of this mini soap drama,
While you keep your vigilant eye on the time.
I am the bird
You, my gilded cage.
And with every mornings rising-
I fly away
From these neon dreams
And the supernova of music
That casts a glimmer into the meat
Of my eyes
And makes the doldrums,
The ** hum,
Of everyday living-
Of pastel landscapes-
And hetchy sketched lines
On strangers faces,
Pull me down, where I am drowning
Into the gum spotted ground.
At times
I lay lingering
In the fresh blood
Of our latest retreat,
Our greatest victory-
Our heartbreaking defeat,
Hoping that this time,
This time,
will be the last,
will be our greatest
and never be surpassed.
Morning will never come
To break the storming stream
Of our fantastic dreams
And wake me to meet
Another gray and paling daytime scheme.
Yet with every journeys end,
a new day does begin
and rise-
I suppose I do
with a mourn in my throat
for the places we could go
but that will have to wait
until the lush blanket of your love
lays heavy on my breath
once again,
and reunited, feeling good
we propel away
on new shimmering webs
dangling far from realities clutch
into fantasies sweet touch.
Sleep, my love,
it is you I choose to pursue,
Because every time I wake up
I just want to make up,
Another reason
To be with you.
May 13, 2010
May 13, 2010 at 5:36 PM UTC