"julian" poems
all the one dream remains as "day"
come, let us awaken from the death-like state
THE STATE calls
"the amerikkkan dream"
---
have you felt any love here?
-------
we are free
if freedom means
working for the king's money
with your mouth shut
and fear your constant companion
-------
blue sky
blue
sea blue
blood red dawn
poverty shall
soon be
your constant companion
---------
all the one dream remains as "day"
come, let us awaken from the death-like state
THE STATE calls
"the amerikkkan dream"
---------
of course
you could speak up
and go to jail
with julian
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 8:48 AM UTC
There was a big boom once
Population dynamics are intrin-
sic functions of gumption
and big booms echo in eternity.
I look at the industrial revolution
through infrared filters
to parameterize the haze of our lives using
a kaleidoscope landmarking
technique andor technology
where the function of plutocracy
(and it is taking shape)
while it resonates on post-reformations
and pre-modernisms
How do you like them schizms?
Living the religion of
capital ~ ism
and paying homage on prayer mats of
blood ~ sweat ~ and 1, 2 many beers
through our blue collar dollars and
masonry jars and crossroads guitars
(and between the bars)
of our own creation.
Now moving toward remediation
and un-plebiation.
I cried vermouth and reconciliation while
they expunged truth and trylobytes.
The inevitability always bubbles up.
And in the trailer park of our lord: 2017
Ricky and Julian and Bubbles
pay homage to a great poet lost: Mr. Lahey.
(within the mystery of our own creation)
Thus we toast to: The Theatre of Life
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 6:09 AM UTC
"The actual pressure must be made more pressing by adding to it consciousness of pressure, the shame must be made more shameful by publicizing it." Karl Marx
Edward, Julian & freaky Chelsea:
Why didn't they hack Time Warner &
Give people things they truly need,
Like a good 5-cent Fattie,
Free high-speed internet & cable TV,
Canadian hockey & **** channels included?
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
I learnt to tie my shoes
I learnt to ride my bike
I learnt to smoke
I learnt the vulnerability of fully exposing an idea
I learnt to tie my shoes
I learnt to adapt my behavior in the light of others' actions.
I learnt the difficulty of sustaining the hopes of youth.
I remember a French girl with an English name.
'Leave me now, return tonight,' she told me every morning, and I did.
I remember an English girl with an French name.
We were the circle that no one could break, or so I thought.
Yesterday I was there.
Today I am here.
The two are light years apart.
I dance with a friend,
holding her hand realize,
how disconnected I have become,
from the simple beauty of touch.
I return and sense,
that things are not the same as before,
but feel had I stayed,
everything would likely seem the same.
Your words touch me.
Your thoughts excite me.
I want to try all that.
Explore everything with you.
Alone.
All one.
If and but and maybe and whatever.
I hate those words.
Everything doesn't have to be perfect.
To idealize is also a form of suffering.
------ by Julian Hibbard
st...26 march 2014
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
When lightning has struck me
eighty-two times
I want to hear everything
and on the eighty-third
hear nothing but
the most precious of memories.
I hope I can recount stories
of our embarrassing proposal
and the angry Presbyterian ministers
performing the ceremony
because in twenty-two and a half
years I have never once believed
my grandparents loved each other,
but last night the second Julian
recounted he and Lavern's saga
of a marriage that ended in
four fuck-ups and decades of
disappointment
with the most agreeable disposition-
even for a man dying
of too much salt in his diet.
I only hope someone will love me
enough to eat bland food
and our grandson's vegetables one day.
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 9:01 PM UTC
Aaron Evans - Magic
I love you, I really do
Alex Forte - ****
**** you
Alex S - *****
I hate what you made me become
Andrew T -Beer
Do good in Rehab, dear
Austin Kearns - Lake Water
really?
Garrett A - Pretzels
Burn in Hell
Garrett F - Soy Sauce
I'm so sorry
Hunter G - Cigarettes
You still turn me on
Jason H - Bubblegum
I kissed you out of pity
Jeff C - Water
I'd still Hate **** you
JJ S - Ciroc
What a regret
John Bradshaw - Football
How is Pennsylvania?
Johnny Bozeman II - Marlboro Reds
I just really ******* miss you
John Butler - Coffee
Don't ever touch me again
John G - Sugar
I'm sorry I ruined it
Julian R - Cherry Popsicles
Thank you for freeing me
Justin B - Cheap Wine
*******
Justin Haupt - Mint
I really enjoyed all the free *******
Katie Moorman - Red Lipstick
IloveyouImissyouI'msorry
Kyrstin Bruce - Grey Goose
I don't like kissing you
Mario Luppachino - Pool Water
I would've ****** you in my car that night
Michael H - Hash Brownies
Stay Away
Ryan T - Want
Kissing you made me *** in a school hallway
Rusty H - Need
I still wonder what became of you
Sam R - Mistakes
Heard you're a father now, congrats
Sean Ellis - Berry Hookah
sigh
Steven Spence - Gasoline
I'm a **** person and so are you
Taylor Vaughn - Sunset
Go back to your baby mama
Tim Hoback - Hangover at 7 am
You made me breakfast and gave me your pants
Trevor W - Candy
Time is a funny thing, huh?
Tyler Farris - Missed Connections
If I was a little prettier could I have been your baby?
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
i chanced to see a
tin foil car
in the library parking lot
yesterday
the carpet, molding, side panels
all removed
tin foil
had been duct taped
on every surface that
was not glass
even the shift ****
and the steering wheel
wrapped and wrapped
in tin foil
a Volkswagen Faraday cage
i searched the faces
of the people about me
would it not be obvious who
would drive around in a
Faraday cage
listening to voices
chasing around
their mind
tin foil car
reading Julian Huxley
and muttering about telepathy
or reading Faraday to get rid
of those nagging radio-frequency
electromagnetic radiation signals
in a hollow conductor
but, then why leave the radio in the car
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 9:44 AM UTC
(on Tavistock Square Gardens)
Julian, Awake!
rise up out of the rock
of those who would not ****
to collect the bewildered dead
from the blasted bus
Then lay them here in their morality
beneath the Hiroshima tree
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 4:11 AM UTC
Got a second for me Los Angeles
I am the product of your wish less stars,
shot out street lamps and *** holed streets.
Your trigger happy
cops who stalk your darkened streets like
the true predators they are.
Spare some time for me Los Angeles
I've drank hard and laughed along your
beaches.
Lived on your toxic air.
Turned into a ghost and chased the high all through
your city streets.
I watched the beautiful
people stay beautiful beneath endless California
summers.
I fought the good fight against your
tan shirts within the coldness of your jail.
Stay with me for a moment Los Angeles
The dead are still celebrated throughout your
Palm lined streets.
Your city lights still bring colors
to my dreams.
A little longer Los Angeles
I still can't bear the thought of ever leaving you
even when all the signs around me say I should.
I don't expect any return from you Los Angeles
San Julian showed me the real you.
These scars on the crook of my arm proved the real you.
Trust in me Los Angeles
I'm with you until we fall into the sea.
Believe in me Los Angeles
I'm not an actor on TV.
My name is not on a star to
be spat and stepped upon.
Nor am I a heretic
living behind a veil within
the comfort of your hills.
Don't forget me Los Angeles
I am the son of your southern most tip.
The son of the town named after the
Saint Pedro.
Whose roots are that of a
Lost Angel.
Lost within the deep darkness
of you.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
There are songs that just
Make you want to
Lace
Up your running shoes and
Race
The morning sky as it
Rises.
Think Julian Casablancas
Of the "Is This It" era.
Think "Last Nite."
As your aching feet beg you to
Stop, the flowers around you
Beg you to
Keep
Going.
Think a whole spectrum of colors.
Think Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,
Except with less
Hallucinogens and more...
Orange juice
Swirling around like
Some fruity whirlpool of life
Which you're too scared to
Fully jump into because
It has teeth
And because
It reminds you of
Those other
Whirlpools.
Instead you crane your head forward
To see how goofy your face
Looks in the reflection,
How the ripples seem to
Endlessly badger you to just
"Come on in!"
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 11:03 AM UTC
*My very dear friends and wonderful, international tribe of poets:
When I first joined you all here last August, I was in a time of deep solitude, culturing inner silence.
It became an ideal time to make real progress with my writing.
The part I had no idea about then, and that has become such a treasured part of my life, is the growth and blossoming of new friendships
with many of you!
On June 2nd, 2016, just over a month ago, I felt an innocent, spontaneous impulse to open up, once again, to the world around me.
After all that immersion in transcendental bliss consciousness, life began presenting me with beautiful new opportunities, which has in turn lead to the most fantastic job I have yet had the honor to call my own, in which I am able to express and employ
all of my particular set of talents and abilities.
Hence, then, my long absence, and my enormous, growing admiration for those of you who have families, jobs,
and also contribute excellent poems here!
*May the force be always with the poets, the writers, the thinkers, the artists... all the good and sincere well-wishers of our dear world family, and of our precious Mother Earth.
(I have just re-written this poem that speaks to my present experience and frame of mind, and thought to offer it again in this context.)
Eyes of Light
Momentarily, two eye-shaped
places in these thick grey clouds
stared directly at me, and there it was:
"Always be truthful.
Always be kind."
Just that.
A reminder.
Slipping down into the place
beyond all words,
feeling knowingness
seeping
into my bones,
residing in quiet bliss,
at home
in my own authenticity.
The lamp at the door shines,
both within, and without
residing, just being,
knowing, in the the words
of Julian of Norwich:
"All shall be well,
and all shall be well
and all manner
of things shall be well.”
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 4:19 AM UTC
OCD and nervous, uptight and follows the rules.
Handwriting like type. Perfectionist on notebook paper.
Needs to loosen up. Needs to learn how to fail. A lot.
Lots of failure. Lots of breaking the rules. That's what she needs.
That's what I thought when I first met you.
So I gave it to you.
I gave you lying to your parents and jay walking.
I gave you the triumph of city streets after dark with no one around.
I gave you the cold kiss of rain as you run, laughing, for shelter.
I gave you slang terms, for drugs and *** and even in Spanish
I gave you a safe little pane of glass to sit behind and observe public school's inner workings.
But still you are so afraid. Afraid to play Beatles songs
For French tourists underneath the Space Needle on your guitar
Waiting for Julian that fine afternoon. You were afraid of
Benny, the homeless man addicted to crack who I've known my whole life,
The one who taught me to balance rocks on pencils stuck in the ground.
You are afraid to sing on stage and afraid of being yourself around people you don't know.
I want to give you those things too.
Somehow I wish I could teach you confidence but I cannot.
I would give you fearlessness and thick, foreign swear words and show you how to throw a punch
But you're not ready yet. Be innocent, while you still can.
College will **** you up enough, once you get there.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 3:02 AM UTC
aimlessly stumbling
traipsing through gardens
A bruised and softened pear
a lump of clay
dented with fingerprints
Fixated between fixtures
hair made a nest
It collects the evidence
to place beneath the gallows
The incense drifts outwards
and spells out denial.
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 10:50 PM UTC
I used to run-Never for fun--I would more often be running away from something than to it. I think it started in childhood. Never staying in one place long enough to have to fight every kid in the school.-I liked and i hated it. More often i had no control over it. On reflection it was for the better, my nose bleed too much for a kid my age. -In the second phase of my running career I began running out. Never telling the bosses to go play in heavy tracffic or do your **** self. I had morales and above all practised good manners. Instead i would tell the bosses that i was taking out the trash and make my freedom dash. -Oh, beleive me I flet free. The funny part was when the bosses would call my parents. Just as countless pricipals would do when i skipped classes. My parents would luagh and call them an ass. -Then i began running away. I only did it once...well that's a lie. I ran away from my highschool guidence office, far too drunk to face my parents scorn. "Yeah i drank it all. i replaced it with water, much healthier." -The last time I ran away I thought I was going to find myself. I had lost a part of myself to drugs and alcohol. I thought for sure i would find myself on the other side of the country on a small island on the Pacific Ocean. I went to rehab and could not find the person i went looking for. I thought briefly i had found myself, but when I looked in the mirror i could not even recognize my own face. I blamed my mustache. -I realized that running away to find myself i ran away from my family and my friends. Alas the old dies so the new can be born. -In my opinion if one is to run away it's for good. Never to return to such and such a place again, unless of course you have to do your taxes.
Mar 1, 2010
Mar 1, 2010 at 4:38 AM UTC
sometimes I think of you and die inside. and I end up crying in bathroom stalls. I miss you. I miss you.
sometimes I want to send you all these books I've read because they remind me of you but the truth is that no two people read the same book, no two people are in the same relationship, a conversation is not shared, a moment, a laugh, a look. We were never a we. There was a you and an I. A you with your thoughts and an I with mine.
sometimes I think that perhaps if I write you letters. endlessly. endlessly. and put them all into a box I would eventually come to realize that there will never be a possibility of you replying to them. And you turn into nothing more than a thing in the distance that my voice will be unable to reach. and slowly. slowly. I will accept that you have gone. that how we are is no longer what we once were and that we can never be that again.
we used to refer to each other as "home". are you a wandering vagabond just like me? are you a homeless, restless, soul? are you like Julian's tourist? I am. I am. I am. You were my ultimate symbol of acceptance. and now nowhere is safe. I have taken to walking the streets every chance I get. Every time my mind is not locked on some book. on some lecture. on some dream. I am walking. walking. walking. It is the only way I can survive. to stop. to pause. would only bring me to the loss of you. it is this reality I run from.
I read book upon book to escape you. blare music to my ears til I'm dead. but all the words contain you. every line has you. the songs sing in your voice. you are everywhere. there is nowhere to run.
I'm sorry for being too much like Tereza, you deserved more than that.
and I am too scared to open my journal.
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 3:43 AM UTC
This is his Henri Julian Rousseau taboo land,
here he appears as the lion night after night,
with his tail stiffened, erect--but the Gypsy wasn't there
Bathed in psychedelic strobe lights, now
here on a plush confession table doubling as their stage
his Gypsy lies spread-eagled,
til there is no secrets left in her body, he now tries
to pry open the many chambers of her peripatetic mind.
With a lingering kiss, he in vain tries to arrest her
never subdued spirit and begins his secret rituals
for the angel of sin, black magic maiden, yin for his yang
who in ways direct, sly or by allusion, is the bestower of
a million forbidden pleasures, whispering,like a mantra thus:
"There is no right or wrong, all illusions, within an imagined truth"
which made him stray, albeit, within the labyrinth
like innumerous men of power, which they gained
shedding blood, sweat and tears; as if there is nothing beyond.
She who by instinct engineered his downfall
from the pantheon of the anointed is finally here
but this is no retribution, only return of the favors received,
his throbbing lust seeks her deep interior's caresses
giving her forgiveness in return, his masculine urges
wish to be gripped by her unusual craving,
she is melting like butter, her sweet urges fight back
in unison they seethe, wreath, roll and race to culminate.
On a swing hanging high ,above the poisoned earth
for a few sweet transient moments they remain,
weep in pleasure til they fall in to slime and crawl back to life
--then the Gypsy and the Lion remember nothing .
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC
1- Alex S
You were a rough hit to the stomach
a cold and ***** baptizing
I ****** you twice and never again
because of you I stopped eating
I haven’t seen you since I was 14
and that’s okay with both of us
2- Alex F
Your name still gives me chills
you remind me of a fox in winter
I really did love you like the waves love the ocean shore
I really would have drowned myself for you
im sorry I took your virginity
3- JJ S
It was a drunken hookup on a ***** couch
in a smoke filled basement that I had to sneak out of later
and you were 27 and should have known better
and it was really just too awful to talk about
4- Garrett F
In a Chinese restaurant parking lot at 9 pm
we used your backseat like it had
rose petals and candles
and you were my best friend
and it’s still one of my biggest regrets
and we stopped speaking after that
5- Michael H
Really I just wanted the free ****
and a place to spend the night
so, did you enjoy the taste of my tall black soul
that tends to smell of tar
and the dredges of a coffee ***
6- Julian R
I don’t know the first thing about you
besides the fact you are from New York
and 25
and play basketball for a college
and you pushed me down on the bed
and swallowed me whole
7- Sean E
It was Halloween
and we were drunk
and we undressed in the back of someone’s jeep
and laid under the stars at 4 am on a blanket in a backyard
the first time you were ever inside me
8- Johnny B
24 and never someone I’d normally ****
but I stayed at your house for 2 weeks
and we became connected on every piece of furniture
and I still never got enough of you
and god I miss you
9- Aaron E
You are the end of it all
and with you I am butter melting
I am grinding my teeth down in lust
I’ve never seen anyone look so perfect naked
and I’m wishing you were the only one in this list
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
im falling fast and hard
but the ground isnt any closer
i could fall forever, and ever
and ever further
my skin feels new
is this what its like to love?
my heart is racing
ive taken the deadliest drug
its sweet and its naughty
it fills my mind
its exactly what i'd hoped for
its so cruel and so kind
but that is you
i couldnt ask for more
except that you were here
that's all i ask you for
Oct 26, 2010
Oct 26, 2010 at 6:53 PM UTC
You interest me in the way
That death does,
In the way that strangers can,
In the way that complicated surgeries might
You perplex me deeply enough
That I write about you often,
That you break and build
Walls in my subconscious,
That you feel like a warm ghost in my arms
You demand my gaze that same way
A fine building will
Or an early-spring snow,
Or a doe in heat
You make me crave you
Like a steak,
Like spending money,
The way I crave attention
You bend me as
Light bends in an eclipse, subtle and yet undeniable,
I bend like the rules do
For the rich and bold
You call me to arms
Like revolution in the streets,
A revolution on the page,
A revolution through the speakers
You inspire me no less than a favorable sky to write
A new pair of shoes to walk
A great athletic feat to play
You fill a space like a home-made poster,
A sold out concert
A partner in crime riding shotgun
You have me searching for you
The way I search for
My mother,
My father,
My sister,
Julian.
You have me
You have all
You have me in the way
That up always has down
Jan 2, 2010
Jan 2, 2010 at 7:47 PM UTC
He was unbothered
by conversation in the kitchen.
He sits tightly, legs up
on the lounge chair,
tossed to the side
facing away from words
between his mother and wife.
His spine sinking heavier beneath
the cross-patterned blanket
as he turns only his head sideways
at me.
His slouching, glassy eyes
spoke with his lips,
slowly separating,
“Please hold my hand”
I blinked.
Wedding band touched my skin--
those masculine diamonds embedded,
I glance. His head drops;
One ear hugged by faux leather.
He ignores the trees seated
outside our bay window
or the seemingly distant
but not silent footsteps
of Julian piling up and pushing
those blocks.
His chest fires upward
and I listen to his exhale shake,
grasping his hand tighter.
“When I was a teenager
I used to think I could use memories
as a means to time travel…”
He’s shifting and sweating
but the house is cool.
Sweetly and softly, he sings,
“It was psychotic, really.”
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 6:30 PM UTC
Your arms and legs are strong as a grizzly bear
Your eyes reflect your loving, tender heart
To love one so broken, yes I do dare
No greater torture, for us to be apart
Being always protected by your strong arms
And wondering to be able to look after you
I am helpless against your devilish charms
Your love is deep as the great, dark ocean
Julian, your heart is mine to safely hold
Running towards your arms, open and welcoming
Your soul I protect, if I may be so bold
Our lives will be lived together, loving
Yours and mine, our hearts tethered forever
I will love you forever and ever
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
Last July was the hottest month, ever.
That is, ever since we ‘officially’ started tracking weather.
The Earth is lying on the bathroom floor, wrists severed;
I wonder whether this is a storm we can weather,
Or whether we’ll all perish together.
Greenland lost 12.5 billion tonnes of ice sheets.
That is,
The island that was 80% ice is becoming one, giant, puddle.
The earth is about to be slain, a warrior conceding defeat;
Huddle up, give your loved ones a cuddle,
For we are so troubled that any aliens out there must be truly befuddled.
My generation was born with a guillotine looming over our heads.
An impending sense of dread,
As corporations put on their executioner’s hoods,
And reach for the lever.
A sordid reality in which to save the planet,
One must fight one’s own government;
A reality in which we may have done permanent damage,
A reality in which valour gets no monuments,
But only condemnation and incarceration.
Remember these names:
Julian Assange. Currently awaiting an 18-count indictment charge from the US.
Edward Snowden. Could face up to 30 years in prison if the US get their hands on him.
Chelsea Manning. Spent 7 years in prison.
Abdullah Öcalan. In prison since 1999.
Edem Bekirov. A man who has been dying in prison for the past year.
Benny Tai. Sentenced to over a year for fighting for what is right.
Nasser Zefzafi. In prison for the next 20 years.
Kerry Shakaboona Marshall. A man who received a life sentence aged 17 years old.
Simon Blevins, Richard Roberts, and Richard Loizou. Sentenced to over a year for fighting fracking.
Tim DeChristopher. 21 months for fighting oil and gas pipelines.
Stella Nyanzi. The raunchy Ugandan poetess who cannot be tamed, no matter how many times prison beckons.
This list is basically endless.
It is saturated in blood that drips from the corners of the page,
Soaked in the rage of brave men and women, living in a cage.
Depression. Exhaustion. Numbness.
Oppression and a lack of caution,
Leading us to this dumb mess.
This can no longer be the norm.
We can no longer conform,
Nor can we compromise or haggle;
We must reverse our own demise,
For this is our generation’s battle.
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 1:56 AM UTC
Mobile/Stabile - I don’t speak French
Main two types of mainly 3D artist
Alexander “sandy” Calder
Mobile - is a French pun meaning both "motion" and "motive"
If you had one of these above your crib to muse over as you drifted to dreamland, you have Sandy to thank.
Stabile- following the style of the name mobile, is a sculpture that is unmovable
Both are French words I have trouble saying
I am becoming or was becoming paralyzed from my feet up
(they still haven’t decided which,
feel free to laugh at that)
Feel free to laugh at all of it, I do
I have complications from unbeknownst year long scarlet fever that turned into rheumatic fever that turned into julian Barre to thank for that.
There is no cure, so I’m using condescension.
I call it Julian Barre because “Gee YAWN BERET” is just so **** hard to eek out.
And
It requires more pomp than it deserves
Okay it’s part condescension and part more French words I can’t quite say.
It’s sort of like the opposite of when I try to say “petit” pwessON” to be cute, I mean to say Little Fish to address my partner:
But instead say “petit pwazOne” which means
little Poison
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 5:19 PM UTC
F the system
With slow mental slavery rhythms
These systems came in a package -schools
-jobs
-suburban places...
I can go on and on.
F the system
It only gave me its own mentality and personality.
the system is supported by cash that's why most people join it
Or chase it.
F the system
The system never changed , people just got more dumber.
Society! Why do you have to use the same process on each and every human on earth.
Uniforms hides our true image
We all look the same , products to be examined why ?
The world started praising garbage again .
F the system
Yours truly julian!!
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC