#chord
genetic & embedded in both
the left and right brains and
heart muscles, pores and parts
that participate in the body’s
daily ritual colloquium regarding
the necessary amount of magic
needed, upkeep required,
to please the Lord,
whose designers were
co~missioned,
tasked-to make a self healing
being, with a reasonable shelf
life but with built-in imperfections
and to struggle and to
*honor that idea that we born blind
and our goal is
learning to see,
envision
our better*
version
the
correct redirection of
constant course corrections
using the
secret compass chord
playing on the harp of our
heart strings
<•>
903am
1/23/25
on a day of addition and sub traction
Jan 25, 2025
Jan 25, 2025 at 6:07 AM UTC
First know this:
In my peoples’ history,
an old evil, revived,
a real pretend
a”new” enemy, but
merely a derivative of a-prior,
old name, same hatred,
irrational and raw,
rising up in every generation,
under cover of a ‘philosophy,’
lies buried a purity of motive,
purity of hate for hate’s sake
<•>
For my people
and their beliefs
Our secret to our
survival is manifest,
you may have heard it called,
A Secret Chord (1)
Tears and Laughter,
Tears Behind Laughter
intertwined, or else,
we would not indeed be
the long going on tribe
studied by curious
historians & idiots
me?
still crazy, after all these generations
Grandparents & Parents
chased by ‘professionals’
from places well known to you
(hey! we somehow got away
with huge luck, and courageous daring)
Not requiring your sympathy
not asking for a special empathy,
not rejecting your clucks,
but we manage
though tears aplenty
that we mask under a guise
via self-deprecating humor
I would love to tell
the Bible and the liturgy
is full of sly winks,
cutish double entendres,
bartender jokes,
but it ain’t necessarily so
don’t ya know
if the bible had made
gentle laughter at/of/
angelic & human foibles
and maybe
even God laughing at
all too human characteristics
but that’s a very big ask,
not sure He’s up to the task,
making fun of yourself
when you’re the
top of the chain
requires
humanility
which’s not a master’s
first calling
but should have been its
first blessing
*so that’s up to us,
we irreverent creatures
of his design,
and why we are the absolute tgw only
species that cries
to express
sadness-
and mockery maker
of ourselves
the oy in
oh vey beings
Still crazy after all these years
Dec 23, 2024
Dec 23, 2024 at 9:35 AM UTC
funny how one chord
can say so much
while i
can’t say anything
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 8:00 PM UTC
Pluck one
Then two
Drag them out
As long as you want
Play the song of their hearts
Feelings as tight as you tuned them
Draw them in
So taunt
Until the chord breaks
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 1:53 PM UTC
Counting the infinite voyage of the stars
Or thinking of all the drops in the sea
And thinking of the grains of sand on mars
Shrinks my body to microscopic sizes, you see.
Perhaps I'll send a paper plane out in the sky
To watch it fly to distance galaxies of tomorrow
And maybe it'll come right back to where I lie
In my bed of restless thoughts of stress and sorrow.
I'll spill some coins into the street
And watch them tumble by
Just watching them speed by leathered feet
Brings a salty tear to my tired eye.
Because coins have journeys of their own
In the musky old worlds of talk
Once carved straight out of stone
And before people knew to walk.
All the pages in the world wouldn't confuse
What thoughts are born today
Even books created from a powerful muse
Couldn't shake what keeps to stay.
Cause once I challenged God and all
To come down from the clouds
And I stood there sweaty and slipped and fall
To my mind of bewildered crowds.
Maybe now is the time to lay down the sword
Of previous gestures and innocent dust
Maybe now is the time to strike a new chord
To create what inevitably should must.
I'm not retiring from smiles and cheer
And no longer should it be any such curse
As to be what it is to create my own course to steer
No one now has to tell me how to write my next verse.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 8:15 PM UTC
Going through the motions, creating a tune sublime
differing types of notions, not always prose, or rhyme
Assembling our choirs, composed of family and comrades
weeding out the dire fools, trusting, true friends we've had
Reveling in the loudest lion's roar, and all that it can, possibly portend
discarding the dissonant chord and rejoicing in, the harmony of friends
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 12:12 PM UTC
It was an atmosphere.
It was an atmosphere.
It was oxygen mixed with southern fog,
Southpaw gloves tied in sailor knots,
Waves of golden grains in ocean wind,
The rolling hills behind property lines.
It was the question you asked,
It was the question you asked,
Not with words but in the way you breathed against the window glass,
While I leaned against your Corolla,
And we sang under the overpass.
It was graffiti,
It was graffiti.
It was the cavernous concrete cats with purple
hair and acid wash jean jackets,
Melting the light of their city's street lamps into the obsidian void of moistened pavement.
It was the way the reverb spread the major 7th across the sky with burnt orange cascading into the violet of the minor 9th which reminds me of crickets and summer nights (and violins and cellos and midwestern jazz bars), and how bar chords are a guitarists way of flipping off a crowd,
Surfing the web for an answer to why I'm still single-
handedly the handsomest man in my car currently.
It's the cloth in my empty passenger seat,
soaking up the air of my A/C heat.
And the scent of the soil spilt from the succulent I was given at a wedding last fall,
And now I don't know if my trunk will ever smell clean at all.
It was how my energy dripped away into the floods of San Jose,
And how her eyes began to sink into her iPhone 7's screen.
It's in how I long for prolonged eye contact,
It's in how close the answer is but never slips,
I'm not interested in the electric work of fingertips,
I'm interested in connection.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:45 AM UTC
Words etched into the wall (above)
by the augmented fifth
Merely (below) displaced fifth
Blistering drywall
Voweling (in) out the love song
Caramelizing (out) paint
German Shepherd tilts
his (between) her head
Doesn't quite like (around)
The augmented fifth
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:29 AM UTC
i Keep rubbing my wrists and my forearms nervously anxiously and can
feel the tendons ache and the muscles on my left forearm snap back and forth: a (broken) guitar string slapping the frets every
time it is
strummed. If i push on the muscles --or the string, perhaps there is no difference-- too hard my hand (goes numb) and the cord (chord)-like muscles seep exhaustion into my skin --forgive me for this. there is little i can do and big i can do but all i remember is everything
it starts small a little bit of pain but i know I will willingly take it for just
( a little bit of you )
infiltrating me I don't know why my legs ache and my skin fights against me I am grateful for You fighting for me grateful for me fighting for You
this has been full of change full of upside down i am proud of my START AGAIN abilities of my explore: drive anywhere you want GO GO mindset
but sometimes I ache. calling you nightly is
not enough but I promise to make it enough
to try to make everything you do
feel like more than enough
i love when the sun is warm and it is cloudy and i get the opportunity to trip over you Accidentally or (not so accidentally). falling into tears every time I hear a symphony play-- perhaps there is no love in the world comparable to a
symphony or perhaps I am
sinfully biased due to my
experiences with symphonic beings
i Intend to live my life Running or dancinG with symphonies blossoming between my tender and temporarily not calloused
fingers and
with you and we
Constantly reinventing what it means to be Alive
I will try my best ( for you and for Me) but
there is not
enough time
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 1:48 PM UTC
I can't write a poem
Right now
It's killing me inside
I can't write you a song
Once more
Forgive me, it'll be alright
I can't sing a tune
Again
My voice is all but gone
I can't paint a picture
Today
My fingers are stiff and wrong
If I could see your face
Once more
I swear I'd strum a chord
I'd dance around and click my shoes
And slide across the floor
But now you're gone
And I'm still here
I guess they call it fate
I eat alone in this empty house
Surrounded by ghosts and crates
But if the stars align
And I keep shining
Maybe the world will give
Another glance, another dance
And a chance for me to live.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 3:04 PM UTC
lonely chord tired guitar play
soul numb as callous fingers
heart hollow as sea rusted string
flat wrought steel,
peeled off tire
fire face melted
fleeting garish glimpse of starch shirt 60s
itchy lice life like gene spliced flight patterns
bioengineered space age
Han Solo with (hold) full o'Spice
Synthetic Cannabinoids sprayed on Marshmallow leaf ruin life
Chewie grab the bowcaster, ill grab the glock foe blaster
Smash, mash and crashed'er like Britons of Lancaster
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 3:04 AM UTC
My body will scream
if it wants.
My body will do as it
will as long as I
allow it.
I will not soften
the sound of the screams
from my body
for the sake of sensitive ears
when the point
of a scream is to
be heard.
My body can scream
loudly, if it wants.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC
Is the line under
the signifier: a thing
not self-originating:
And the I that takes
a pleasure in watching
it identifies with the self
watching it happily identify
This representation of the
self in verbal and then
ideal form to be faster,
Faster, faster, because
Mommy is near and I have
wings and can ******
you with my bare hands
It's an understanding
in an unconventional way:
To say that the utterance
gives way to strength
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 11:53 PM UTC
Well **** me if
I haven't had this
memory before of a
love expanding during
its reconstruction.
The purpose of such
a thought is to make it
like a poem- all pure and
full of the meaning its given,
and I remember the point
of remembering: to whittle
away the excess and reveal its
ideal form, but what if
it gives you a back kick
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
I'm ****** at this.
I skipped class yesterday
and today and haven't seen
you in a few days because you
won't let me and that's valid.
I still wish I could help some
how I think of leaving you at
least once every day but
all I can think to say is
I love you and I'm yours.
My stroke of love
goes against your grain
and I am bade to withhold
in the presence of equals and
betters regardless of the claim
And the needs being
met with knees in the chest
I am uneasy.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 7:11 PM UTC
My teacher gave me homework
she said to find a chord
that represented me, my life,
and my place on the board.
I did not turn in the homework
so my teacher and I spoke
I told her I did not exist
(not even as a chord)
and most saw me as a joke.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 8:53 PM UTC
Are you done
making waves in
my body yet?
It doesn't like
to be upset. My
heart can't take it--
in the literal sense.
It's like why I can't really
listen to heavy metal music
even though I can listen to pretty
much anything else. There's something
about the vibrations that make my heart hurt,
and it's the same with you.
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 11:46 PM UTC
Two vibratory frequencies
complement and intersect
and turn jarring like:
a tendency to say mean things or
hit me—like a school boy crush—and
sniff me on occasion while I rub
my face on yours like a cat
Because I was one in a past life
and you were a dog
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 11:00 PM UTC
Settle down, now
no need to steer a course
already laid out
Hush, nevermind: drink
white hot light wine. Only
say yes— if you’d like to
you can walk away
if you’d rather not
have nothing
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 6:33 PM UTC
He spoke with his nose against mine.
He closed his eyes and hesitated to kiss me gingerly
and when I did not deny him, he kissed me again.
And when I returned his affections
he gave a sigh of passionate relief,
his fingers imploring tenderly to
find the skin beneath cloth
within the sheets, and I
allowed him to. “I want you
to understand,” he said against
my lips, pulling me into him,
and so I tried to.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 2:50 AM UTC
Nothing has changed.
Everything happens to stay
the same in an inane way.
I ****** up when I said
I love you after a careless laugh,
but you waited and then said it back
like you hoped instinct would be intact.
Every kiss stains
where you leave it,
and it changes nothing.
Every kiss fades
when you leave it.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC
I can feel
by myself
I feel clean hair
because mama always said
to wash it when you feel sick
No tear shampoo was a
******* lie and so
were we and so we'll be.
Sick from unwashed hair.
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 7:51 PM UTC