So this guy did a backflip
off this docking bay sort of thing
and it's like he's in slow motion
just turning slowly as bullets **** by him
and you look over and in one of the planes
is a duck with a cigar in his mouth
and pilot goggles on
and he's laughing
while he shoots bullets
at the man
who's just doing a backflip off the dock
and it's a really good backflip too
Oh, and the guy has a gun in his hand.

When I get too blue
I laugh at myself
pick up the leash
and take Mr. Brown to the dog park.

He shows me how
to be carefree
will jump and bark
drink a gallon of water
and lick whomever he chooses
without a worry in the world.

Everybody admires his *****,
What kind of dog is that?
He’s a Rhodesian Ridgeback.
an African lion hound,
but he’s scared shitless of my cat.
what’s yours?
A Visla.
Looks like yours, only smaller.
Did you see that American Foxhound?
That s.o.b. can jump!
Yeah, too bad he can’t pay my mortgage.

The young photographer shows off
his brilliant Doberman’s latest trick –
a double backflip
catching the Frisbee ten feet high
landing on all fours.
The old lady with the blind daschund
says, “Oh, oh, isn’t he wonderful?”
She claps her hands in delight.

The canine Noah's arc show runs all day
with the entry of pugnacious Sharpeis
the arrogance of Poodles
the inscrutability of giant Malamutes.
the pride of leash-holders.

Gradually tree shadows darken the sawdust
and people start parading home,
the **** athletic girls with their boyfriends’ Shepherds
the slow old men with their greying Labradors
the lady real estate agents with their tiny Shih Tzus.

And then it’s silent
I’m the last one there
alone in the gathering dusk
still hearing echoes of joyful barks
realizing how funny it is
that so many people
look just like their dogs
but I don’t think about it,
I just marvel at all this joy.

"I really wish I could love you."
"Don't cry. I'll be okay."

Her cold hands blanketed my cheeks, as warm tears repelled from finger to finger.

I looked at her, as her eyes changed from blue to green to blue again. "I don't want you to die, Reno."

"Dying can't **** me, Josh. I thought you knew better." Her eyes were green again, as her iris exploded into a wave of grey. She blinked and they were blue again, changing the room to an eggshell white. We sat on a naked mattress, in the middle of an empty room, my face resting on her soft shoulder. Only orange, dancing pill bottles kept us company. They'd tip their caps, like a hat, at the end of each song.

We swam in a teal sea, inside of four brick walls. Our mouths didn't move, but our voices travelled through air bubbles.

Doing an underwater backflip, the bubbles broke, "When did you first fall in love?"

Kicking off the floor, towards her, "I was twenty."

"How'd you know?"

"She gave me a cupcake and was trying to light the candle, but couldn't. She kept trying and trying. At that moment, I knew I loved her."

She swam towards me, her legs like ribbons waving at the surface.

"His name was Lee," she cooed as she started to drown, "I was seventeen and he open hand slapped me. I thought that was love. Then, eventually, he started to close his hand and then I knew that it wasn't. It didn't stop me from loving him with everything I had, though."

I reached for her as her legs were being pulled up to the surface. She opened her mouth, "You'll be okay. I promise."

My pillow was soaked by sweat as I sat up and rubbed my eyes. The other side of the bed was empty.  I turned my head to see the bathroom light peeking behind an indecisive door. Getting up, I walked around the foot of the bed and over the blanket dying on the floor. As I grew closer to the bathroom, the sound of retching clawed at my eardrums.

My hand pushed the door until the bronze **** kissed the wall. An alabaster body was on the floor. Reno's face appeared as she wiped her mouth. She flushed the toilet. I walked towards her, kneeled beside her, and hugged her as the sound of suction and spinning water drowned the air.

I whispered in her ear. She picked up head, out of my arms, and smiled, blue eyes and all.

i am ******* dying
to be something other
than a ***** hiding from
her own shadow,
twisting herself up in
senseless wants

maybe if i tattoo my skin
or gauge my earlobes
or pierce my nose
or wear band t-shirts no one's heard of
or go to shows and head bang alone,
then, yes,
then, i will be unique,
oh ****,
there's a tumblr for that,
actually, there are a thousand tumblrs for that,
moving on...

how about i try
wearing black and
hiding from the light,
pulling away until
i only come out at night,
speaking to no one
but the notebook i carry
everywhere with me,
ah, ****, that's been done too

here, here, how about this,
i'll enter the mainstream,
get my degree,
even work a job from seven to three,
marry a **** bag
with no sense of life,
have some kids,
and pretend i take joy in being a wife,
and then, when i'm having
his colleagues over for dinner,
i'll lose it and **** them all
with a butcher knife

as i backflip over
our ten thousand dollar
dining room set
they'll oooh and aaah,
and somehow forget,
that i'm ending their mediocrity,
instead they'll think,
what yoga studio did she join?
her legs are so much more
defined than mine

and as they all lay bleeding out
over their
steak tartar,
i will smile and smooth my
perfect blonde hair,
and wait
to join the leagues
of the unforgettable

i'll give you this much:
you sure know how to kiss
warmth traveled in my veins
and my stomach did something like
a backflip then two somersaults
you know how to be gentle
reading my uneasiness,
my trembles,
my gasps,
my want.
your tongue is patient
your hands rough
with old scars and stories forever hidden
underneath your lion rumble
you were once my giant
and i the small girl
we traveled among fields of wishes and sunflowers

your kiss feels right.
but my heart is no longer here.

my giant. my love.
one more kiss. or maybe two.
just for now.
just for now.

I am Ether
and it's hard luck these days
with nobody making you famous

There is a lead cloud pregnant
with memories worse than burns
raining like errant artillery

I have to bite with my best teeth
to rewind pleasure and fossilize
painful reputations

You put murderers tattoos on my
social membrane by a diseased loop
Obviously I run like a rabbit and

backflip and rip in half the sky
Anonymity boils
Jarry shoots his ephemeral pistol

outside the theatre at fictional
Paris of your half dream
these ghosts circle your nerves

bleeding christmas sugar
gasping kerosene charisma
atop the peak of repute

@ a cristian @ a catholic @ an all round ruddy good athlete. @ herd roast beef @ herd mutton. @ i used to lead the pork and dairy through the fields of cotton. @ wear football socks and wellingtons and fleeces and march to the top of the old south downs. @ make a jump jet from bits of old pieces @ act a goat or a hero or a clown. @ do front flips straight from the backflip @ sing who put the dog with the cat fish @ say ship! Take the P add a T @ break the day with a bowl of muesli. @ play snake if my mate had a phone, but playing with others isnt always better than playing
alone.

@ like films made for kids my age, glamourised ideas of aristocracy and faith. The good will win and the bad will be sad and the age of the raging mad will begin, its a fad! @ wear jean jackets, go to the parties @ have fanta and chocolate log rushing through the arteries. @ chew through books faster than a vulture, faster than the fastest man at the height of zombie culture. @ play football everyday football winter time football, dont need sun. And then we play cricket. 40 legs of cricket. 3 days later im counting up the runs

I remember when I flew.

The freshly cut grass glued its self to my bare feet, the blades wanted to fly too.
I took off.

A powerful start, rocketed off the damp visage of Mother Earth.
She had great power, gravity, is what they called it.
They said more than kryptonite was needed to stop it.
Gravity, only defeated by breaking the laws of Newton.
I didn't want to break any laws (jail would not be fitting for this hero who needed to be back in time for lunch).

But I kept going, if birds can fly ( and knowing they have much smaller brains ) then I could figure out how too.
I kept going, until my toes kissed the leaves of the oak tree.
Each time I touched the tree time would freeze.
In that moment I watched the wisps of hair flow back and the shadows cross my face.

Soon I was over the trees, doing backflips and summersaults in the air.
I was floating on my back.
The sun warming my face.
The harmonic hum of far off lawnmowers singing in the distance.
I arched my back further and further ready for another backflip.

On my back looking up.
What happened?
I blinked.
A permanent scar on the hero's back.
Sit up.
WHAM
It hit me, the loss of flight, the loss of that reality
and the reintroduction of the other.
It was all gone Mother Nature won again.
A life long battle.
But I'll try to never forget,
I flew

Hey watch this,Babe i got this
backflip it and stick it
like a ninja i'm acrobatic
you want it back but babe you just cant have it
i rock around your feelings wreaking havoc
roll around in the poison looks your'e shootin me
but it don't burn cause i'm dressed in hazmat
You got that?
Babe i got this.

The dream sends the signal;
the battery applies the shocks.
Don't rest a weary head on blankets full of rocks,
like a pillowcase full of hard knocks.

It's consciousness;
it's metamorphosis,
but the backflip out of the cocoon
doesn't indicate an exit too soon,
but rather a kick
for bad shtick
on why I hear them
and my chemicals don't match
yours
or

(You think you have it bad?)

I've had a share of troubles
but nothing to compare to
stares or glares
of empty yesterdays
and broken sticks on snares:
I guess your most important thought
is
who the hell cares?

Orb sinks slow while
the numbness of routines exit
and nothing
becomes less
abstract and more of
your hollow, melting core.

This has a moral
This story ends at some point in time,
but I don't have an answer for when.

(You think you have it bad?)

Every story has an ending
and every cracked palm
deserves mending.

_

Wake up,
*you don't have it that bad.

There's an old abandoned bridge
between Yosemite and here.
Take the Lathrop exit where-
(or don't, it's your life after all)
-we throttled to jump off it
when our buddy flashed excitement, a boyish daydream, and we decided.

Our clothing
     soon was hanging
         on a long forgotten railroad track

(Sitting naked on a maple board-
            Probably from the Civil War.
Dropping rocks to test the height,
            Water black with no rapport)

         He giggled like a giddy child
     trying not
to give us flak,
(For being such a bunch of scaredy cats)

Moonbeams on our skin, and also iPhone torches, and the headlights of the Jeep.

And did he jump? yes!
From a stand with only his two feet supported by a 2 by 4?? yes!
He flipped behind his head!
A backflip with a midway twist.
(Or maybe I half-remember,
It was just a normal flip)

I swear, man, it was amazing.
Off the wooden railing,
Pale and falling towards the water,
                                                          ­ which,
(by the way)
was as black as the apocalypse.

Splashing ghostly underwater,
Then shimmied up the concrete pillar,
Called out to the crescent moon,
And gave a thirty foot salute,
       plunging towards the blackened river.

Laughing, swimming,
He called up to us, quivering,
(And said),
                "Alright, you're next."

Headbutt a field of daffodils.
Uppercut a pair of shears.
Fall asleep on railroad tracks.
Throw a wrench into your gears.

Kick a chainsaw in the teeth.
Do a backflip into quicksand.
Take a bath in sleet.
Eat your own hand.

Sleep in a bed of cement.
Bash your head on concrete.
Throw yourself into a volcano.
Cook your own meat.

Swim in a tsunami.
Surf a typhoon.
Drown yourself in madness,
but please just do it soon.

nobody waits forever anymore
so slide over here
do a backflip while eating ice cream
and share your mess
its the only way to go

by Arcassin Burnham




the stars couldnt keep me away from embrace,
i love your face,
i love your face,
so when they tried to throw shade,
i hit escape,
i hit escape,
And if you share the same feeling of desperation,
i ignore you,
i ignore you,
trying to find my light years in location,
i confront you,
i confront you,
i may have made mistakes in my life,
this ones the worst,
this ones the worst,
Not trying to avoid you i just had to set it right,
but you did it first,
but you did it first,

i dont wanna fall in love,
not now,
not ever,
put your insecurities behind,
and try to see it clearer,
make your feelings roll over,
do a summer sult,
then backflip,
take your problems out on somebody else,
go take a galactic cruise ship,
astro girl you are delusional,
your begging for forgiveness,
did you forget the golden rule,
there should be no sign of weakness,
i dont wanna fall in love,
just like you dont see a dentist,
that galaxy breath is melting my face,
i can not take it.

Children come and children go,
They grow, they live, they die.
Backflip off that net of death and
Think you’ve done them right.
Until their ****** suicide
Keeps you up at night.
And when you close your eyes you see
The mess they left behind.

Not the creaking, stretching rope—
The noose that hung them tight
But the gleam of dying light
From their glassy eyes.
And if you said to me today
That you regret it all
What would you say when I, someday,
Will live, will die, will fall?

My simple answer, darling dear,
Is that you must let go.
As hard as it may be to you,
It’s what’s already known.
We get sick, we wilt, we die,
It’s all a part of life
Just don’t be that sorry thing;
That mess I left behind.

the bulk of the evidence:
the dust bunnies in the largest eyelid-corners,
the aching deltoids of the early mornings,
the limbic system of deteriorated thread and fragile glass-
suggest a verdict of dancing with customer services and inhaling the fumes of the daily commute,

rather than opening up hearts like delicate, antique quilts.

the discrepancy is not an evident ideology-
it's pulling the plug,
or attempting conversations on transgender rights with dad -

nothing is certain.

thus,
my cellophane heart will backflip,
my shins will swing and splint like
dull firecrackers-

patting backs of mothers who will not see their sons again,
pushing change while kicking up the sharp rocks,
running marathons i will never finish
because
my heart,
a skeleton with a rusted cape,
screeches my least favorite record on an endless loop.

“He also saw the cook’s cat which could do somersaults.”  

At least that’s what the cook said,
a claim the cat, shapeless sack
of snide, deigned neither to confirm

nor deny, content to ****
long afternoons in desultory

elongation, stationed
on the window sill above
the blackened eight burner Garland.

Once, when the cook stepped outside
to smoke, the cat, mood sour,

expansive, airily confided
the corpulent cook could climb
stairs on his hands while whistling

“Parlez-Moi d’Amour”
then spat in the soup, dispelling

any lingering incredulity,
his stomach duly nailing
a flawless double backflip.

Then key in the numbers
one by one 
tell all your secrets
and
soon
there'll be none.

This is the engine stall,
out 
if gas is the 
end and I fall.

Thirty two times thirty two 
and every second 
I drop 
I drop closer 
and closer 
to you.

Hit the ground running.

All is opportunity where 
the hustler is 
importuning me 
one of us is seldom free 
to turn a trick or turn 
the other cheek
next week marks 
another scar,

Life 
so far 
advanced 
but with a backflip 
we could have danced 
with flowers in our hair.

Yesterday is somewhere 
yet somehow can't be found,
at thirty two times thirty two.
I hit the ground
running.

Sticking a tre-flip off of that three stair behind the bowling alley.

A suicide bomber strapped with C4 running into a crowded building.

Carving up the powder, bombing down the mountain on a freshly waxed snowboard.

Shooting up a movie theater with a 3D printed, fully-automatic 9mm sub machine gun.

Catching a gnarly ten foot wave off the coast of Hawaii and ramping off the lip to catch some air.

Indoctrination of uneducated children and young men to serve as soldiers for an unending holy war.

Landing a backflip on a Haro BMX bike while a crowd of onlookers chants and cheers.

Subversion and subterfuge within a foreign government in order to topple the current president.

Dropping in to a half pipe at the same time as someone else and hitting a high-five in the air.

Starting fires across a city nightscape to purge the neighborhood of vacant buildings and houses.

This relentless throb
pushing awake again
{pause} loading old {} from past
snooze i don't want to get up to this
snooze i have to get up
*** this
dredging of rightness

the geolocation of where
slathering and soothing

I have an outfit for thought
it looks marvelous swept

it does a backflip off a bridge
lands cleverly spread out

this unending hunger leads
no matter what you make up

breakage always occurs in aisle 9
always there's a curve waiting

I wrestle the morning
and the night before to a standstill

smiling i {} deeply
exiting what

Old asphalt road faded yellow line,
her lips, the color of sweet red wine,
sunbeams laser, through a hole in the cloud,
she reaches and turns Everclear up loud.

Roger Creager sings about getting drunk,
she sings along, grinning and full of *****,
the miles pass by, she takes landscape pics,
Facebook posts from back in the sticks.

The swimming hole is empty down by the old mill,
I pull out the moonshine from my homemade still,
she takes and sip, the burn makes her hiss,
then she gives me a cinnamon apple kiss.

Big tow rope tied in the cottonwood tree,
I grab the knot and swing-out free,
backflip release, splashing water cold,
she wades in *******, she's just that bold.

The rest of the day spent in summertime fun,
swimming and splashing soaking up the sun,
As darkness falls, we head back the miles,
she puts her head on my shoulder, with a sleepy smile.

im melting.
each breathe is a flame kissing the wax of my edges,
flesh to air, air to flesh again.
straying from the path is just another
precipice,
a precedent set against fair shares of neglected death.

i was promised a sleep so peaceful
even non-existence would be jealous,
but im still wide awake paying homage to every detail through a fogged lens...

its not as tragic as I would like to paint it.
more a backflip over a slight frustration.

May not be home
But it’s where I’ll go
Where the wind keeps howling on
Crying out to the birds and the stones
Ain’t it time that we roll these bones
Hear me calling out to you
Turn these lights down low
See the suns not out no more
But the moon holds us close
You keep calling and calling and calling
But the universe never replies
Calling out names of these people you read about
Literature selling you lies
Think for one second
Just try to exist, don’t forget that we still have time
To rewrite the books, but not about god
To be who you want, tonight
Maybe we’re special, but maybe we’re not
Maybe I’m hopeless, and maybe you’re lost
Maybe the wine you drank isn’t the wine
You want, but you got it for free so *******
It’s not about glamour, it’s about nobility
You to be you, and just to be real to me
Tonight, I’ll say it tonight
What the **** do you feel, what’s on your mind
How’s it going? You feeling alright?
You want a drink? Is everything fine?
Asking all them questions
Why’s it so upsetting
Oh, baby, you alright?
What the **** have I done
What did I do
Why isn’t everything going as smooth
It’s ky, but it’s fire and ice
What the **** did I say that wasn’t nice
Oh right it’s all in my mind
I’m steadily losing my ******* rights
To a disease
The internal kind
Maybe depression but I call it life
Hi, how are ya?
My names Keenan
I’m just the janitor, here, see me sweeping
The floors to the ******* ceiling
With your daughter, **** stuck in her *** pig squealing

I’m sorry, back to the rhymes
The yin and the yang, in and outs of life
Gnawing away at my heart and mind
Screaming I just can’t do right
Be perfectly honest
Be balanced and humble
But if you **** up
You’re going to crumble
Your character, it doesn’t flatter me
What the ***** going on, why you mad at me?
I don’t know what to do this time
Is somebody listening, hand me a sign
Oh not my own, it doesn’t feel kind
Sinister left handed crick in my spine
I think all the ******* time
With a bottle in one hand, a smoke in my right
Which vice, I cannot decide
Which one of you will be driving home tonight?

May not be home but it’s where I’ll go
Where the wind keeps howling on
Seeding the answers we didn’t ask for
Or gave nothing more than a thought
Who do I want to be
What do I want to need
Why is everything so ******* unclear to me
Tell me now
A frontal lobotomy
It feels like something is ripping inside of me

Take it out, take two, let’s start over
Maybe this time I’ll try to stay sober
Lower the voice, and make a choice
As a boy, didn’t your mother teach you
how to outwit this noise
I can’t sift through the words left on read
It fills my head up with dread
Turn to the music, just anything soothing
While I drive into the sunset

Top the speedo, I can’t leave me though
I can’t see through the fear and the **** smoke
Can’t keep the needles in green, no
Everybody, anybody, wanna give me hope
Embrace the anger, take back the rush
They’re not worthy of this much love
All of the shame, the guilt, the blame
You made me feel when I was me though

It’s not right, I shouldn’t fight
All the words I wasted on you
(While you were) just flexing your might
Telling me I’m wrong, with your god, and your flaws
I’d given everything I knew, to try to see your side
I can’t do anything right
You said it a thousand times
Off it already
Just hand me the shovel
The worms will eat good tonight

Desperation of something I longed for
Not knowing I walked through the wrong door
Crouched down in the corner, like a bunny
Locked with the eyes of a condor
Sharp inhale, and a blank stare
If I’m not ‘me’, then I’m not there
Gotta survive though, can’t fight fair
Quick jump, backflip from the blind hare

Out for blood, I can’t say it enough
You can think and pray that you’re tough
Fueled by the words you maliciously sent through
My veins, you cut off my pride for your luck
My thoughts are now clearing up
These seas, they’re not so rough
Little salty though, and a little cold
Better than the fake love from your fake home

Sweet merciful
Manifestations
Of everything
Right GRRRL!
I done just did an upside down
Backflip into a bucket of stupid.
You appeared
Said call me ...
I did .........
From then on
Iv been

He stares into the eye of that deceased,
And quietly whispers: "It's okay."
With gentle hands he puts her down,
And rise from his statuesque pose.

We often try to land with some fashion,
A trickshot or a backflip.
But sometimes it is better to just,
Keeping falling for a while longer.

Just remember when you stand again,
To try not to rot away, please.