"mayer" poems
Lightning strikes
Inside my chest to keep me up at night
Dream of ways
To make you understand my pain
Clouds of sulfur in the air
Bombs are falling everywhere
It's heartbreak warfare
Once you want it to begin,
No one really ever wins
In heartbreak warfare
If you want more love why don't you say so?
If you want more love why don't you say so?
Drop his name
Push it in and twist the knife again
Watch my face
As I pretend to feel no pain, pain, pain..
Clouds of sulfur in the air
Bombs are falling everywhere
It's heartbreak warfare
Once you want it to begin,
No one really ever wins
In heartbreak warfare.
If you want more love why don't you say so?
If you want more love why don't you say so?
Just say so...
How come the only way to know how high you get me is to see how far I fall?
God only knows how much I'd love you if you let me but I can't break through it all.
It's a heart... heartbreak...
I don't care if we don't sleep at all tonight
Let's just fix this whole thing now
I swear to God we're gonna get it right
If you lay your weapon down
Red wine and Ambien
You're talking **** again, it's heartbreak warfare
Good to know it's all a game
Disappointment has a name, it's heartbreak, heartbreak.
It's heartbreak warfare
It's heartbreak warfare
It's heartbreak warfare
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
How I adore your nerve
when you kissed me in your closet upon sheets made of legos
and all of your childhood dreams.
How easy I am for you to draw when you play on stage the song that you wrote me,
The one that feels like rock climbing by the river,
Like naps in the summer when I drool on your chest and you don't mind,
Like kissing you until the very last minute of my curfew,
only to break it for the miracle that is your lips.
How alluring is your breath on my neck,
Your voice in my ear when you told me that you loved me
and you didn't stop smiling,
even as the years went by and I did.
How I craved, longed, begged for time to be still
the time you took me to the highest hill you could drive to,
You called it my mountain.
"At first, you look at it and it's so small,
but once you notice it, it's all you can see," you said.
How my stomach floods with waves of nostalgia and a taste
of everything I've ever had to live without,
With complete and utter spell-binded devotion at the simple familiarity
of your smell.
How addicted I am to your laugh when you're happy and
the mastered impression you do of your mom.
How weak I am to your intellect and your appreciation of literature
and real music,
Your enthusiasm for art and the "name that note" game you force upon me
as you stumble onto the classical radio station.
How in love I am with your romance that is as childish as my attachment
to my baby blankie and my mother's childhood walrus that you never ceased to insult.
Our pajama day that we decided over our prom,
When we turned on John Mayer and slow danced in your room.
Your idea of a date consisted of fake wine and me.
How incredibly warm are the coldest of nights,
On the side of your dirt road as we lie in the snow that is too cold for comfort,
yet holds us there with the fear that one day will not look the same as this one
and I would bear any amount of cold winter to keep one more moment of yours.
How I cherish the way you latch my pinky with yours when we walk
And the face you don't know you make when you play guitar.
The rooftop where you kissed me for the very first time and the string rings
we wore to remind each other we were still there.
How incredibly and unfortunately devout I am to all that I remember of you.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 2:51 AM UTC
I sit still
As I listen to a few songs
Mayer, Mraz and so on
I listen to their wise
Their empathic words
I wish I could talk
To someone, anyone
That I could trust
I wonder why I can't
As someone proclaims
They'll fight for me
Get to the root of it for me
I am nearly brought to tears
How long has it been
Since someone did that
Not simply ran away
Because they saw
That I was in a difficult
A terrible situation
How long have I begged for
Someone to do for me
That I did for them
How long?
As I sit quietly and ponder
I start talking
To the only one I trust
- My laptop
My words are hitching
In between
With silent sobs
My eyes have lost their
Ability to cry
Have grown cold
No longer have the
Strength to cry
I want to break down
But only in the arms
Of someone who cares
I look around
There's no one
Of course
What else did I expect
What else could I expect
What else dare I expect
I crouch down
Cover my face
As I start laughing
I am so torn apart
That I can't even see
The point of it all
What I would do
To simply last till
Tomorrow morning
Not just give in
Tonight, tonight.
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 9:17 AM UTC
How **** rough can society get?
I know a beautiful girl who takes a blade to her wrist,
She’s 105 pounds, and thinks her stomach is fat,
Exactly what can make her think that?
Hunger pains linger every time she goes to sleep,
Because at night, bulimia is telling her “don’t eat!”
But that’s fine, right? I mean, models do it too,
And everybody wants to look like they do, true?
I don’t think so, trying to explain it is useless,
This fella thinks model behavior is hella stupid,
It really bothers me that people listen to the media,
People, need to stop eating what they’re feeding ya’,
You don’t need your ribs sticking out to be attractive,
And preteen girls don’t need to be sexually active,
I’m so done, sitting here, hoping we can turn the page,
Call me John Mayer, because I’m waiting on the world to change.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 10:18 PM UTC
I'm always playing music
Alone on my guitar
I don't think I'll be famous
I'll never get that far
I play because I love it
I go from bar to bar
I sure don't do it for the money
I'm living in my car
I'm not sure if I'll make it
The right person must hear
The music that I'm making
Must ring true within their ear
In the clubs that I am playing
They serve shots and luke warm beer
So the ear for which I'm looking
Is not to close to here
If I wanna be famous
And give my life a lift
There's just one way to do it
And that's by datingTaylor Swift
We'll hook up and we'll break up
I won't be with her long
Then she'll put out a new album
And she'll put me in a song
The only way to make it
And to give my life a lift
Is to go out and start dating
That singer....Taylor Swift
I sit home and I practice
In the front seat not the back
Remember, I'm living in my vehicle
Beside the railroad track
I don't have much there with me
My clothes fit in a sack
Maybe one day I will make it
And I'll give fame a crack
I may not be a Kennedy
Or , a big time movie player
But, I sure as hell look better than
That pretty boy John Mayer
I can't write my own music
I just cover other songs
The streets of fame are littered
By folks like me who don't belong
But one day, I'll just make it
And I'll prove them agents wrong
One day I will be famous
I'll be the topic of a song
If I wanna be famous
And give my life a lift
There's just one way to do it
And that's by dating Taylor Swift
We'll hook up and we'll break up
I won't be with her long
Then she'll put out a new album
And she'll put me in a song
The only way to make it
And to give my life a lift
Is to go out and start dating
That singer....Taylor Swift
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 6:07 PM UTC
Slashers Defined
In response to my piece, Slashers, it was requested that maybe I could
reveal at least which band or other info these great guitar players performed for to gain their claim to fame. I don't want to spend too much
time on this defintion, but will give what info I think is pertinent. If you do not know some of the names I have presented to you, and you are a blues,
rock, jazz, fusion guitar fan, I suggest you take the time to listen to some of their work. I have included some of my favorite incredible fusion players that do not have a super star following, but are renowned in their group of fans, probably mostly musicians to some degree.
If you are a frustrated guitar player like I am, do not listen to the likes of Holdsworth, Johnson, Gambale, or Morse unless you love being tortured.
Anyway on with the show.
Eric Clapton – Yardbirds, Cream, Blind Faith, Derek and the Dominos.
Jimmy Page – Yardbirds, Led Zeppe, The Honeydrippers, The Firm
Jimi Hendrix – not only what is, but, what could have been
Alan Holdsworth – Solo jazz fusion player – hot
Steve Howe – Yes, Asia - Progressive rock, jazz –
Bill Nelson – BeBop Deluxe, Solo
Terry Kath – Chicago (25 or 6 to 4) – another sad early departure
Ted Nugent – Amboy Dukes, **** Yankees – The madman
Jim Krueger – Dave Mason Band – solo progressive rock
Eddy Van Halen – Van Halen
Ritchie Blackmore – Deep Purple, Rainbow
Jerry Doucette – Doucette (Mama let him play)
Eric Johnson – Solo – New Age, jazz
Frank Gambale – Australian- Jazz, fusion, rock
Goerge Benson – Jazz
Larry Carlton – Jazz, new age rock
Marc Farner - Grand Funk Railroad
Peter Frampton – Humble Pie, solo
Joe Satriani - New age – solo
Johnny A. - jazz, new age – solo
Danny Gatton – jazz, rockabilly – solo
Chet Atkins – jazz, country
John Mayer – Pop, blues – solo
Neal Schon – Journey
Steve Lukather – Toto
Masyoshi Takanaka – New age, jazz – Japanese solo
Lee Ritnour – Jazz, new age – solo
Leslie West - Mountain, West Bruce & Laing
Monty Montgomery – jazz, blues (accoustic you have never heard)
Wes Montgomery – jazz 40's – 50's
Phil Keaggy – New age Christian
Robin Trower – Procul Harem
Brian May – Queen
Rick Derringer – Montrose, Edgar Winter Group, Steely Dan
Robin Ford – John Mayall, Chick Corea, solo jazz, fusion, blues
Carlos Santana – Santana
Ronnie Montrose – Montrose
Steve Morse – Dixie Dregs, Kansas, solo jazz, fusion
Trevor Rabin – Yes, solo new age
Gomer LePoet...
Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 1:19 PM UTC
I lost a part of myself
The day you walked away from me.
The part that loved,
The part that felt.
I used to love the bay where we watched the sunset,
now it's polluted with
sickly sweet people with their hands intertwined
with people they think they love.
We used to listen to John Mayer on the stereo
every night before we sleep,
I traced endless patterns on you bare chest,
your fingers tangled in my messy curls,
now I hate his songs because they remind of you,
so and so that they make me cry.
You used to take me to long drives
in midnight,
now you made me an insomniac who
wants nothing to do with the midnight
because it's when memories of you haunt me.
You took from me
A part I'm never getting back,
A part that took more than half of my being.
Because now I realized,
once you were gone,
I was also gone.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC
In high school, I used to crawl
past my dad’s side of the bed so I could whisper,
at midnight, to my mom that I was leaving
and going to your place, and that I’d be back
by five in the morning, because I was that good girl
in the knee-high socks with the headband
that matched my uniform. So, I told my mom
that I was going over, watched her sleepy eyes
drift back to her pillow corner. I’d start my car,
put on that sappy John Mayer song you hate,
but know I love, and head through the center of town
on the ghost roads, driving like a memory
with four wheels and only three more miles to go.
You’d let me in the back door, careful not to shut the door
to the kitchen too tight, and we’d kiss
under the aquarium light.
I’d watch the shatters
of light split with the blades of your ceiling fan
as you’d remind me over and over again
with your words that I couldn’t stay long
while your hands pulled me in closer to your chest.
You were the first bad thing I let myself have.
I’d have to leave before your dad would get up for work,
so I’d pull on my sweatpants, wipe the makeup
from beneath the crease of my eyes, kiss you goodbye
for who knew how long it would be that time, and I’d cry
in the car the whole way home
because I knew that we were like grains of sand
in an hourglass
just waiting for our turn to fall.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC
Maybe I just like any word
That comes from
Ben Gibbard's mouth
Or maybe it was the simple effects
You had on me
By doing the very simplest things
Such as sharing some songs
May 24th
"Can't Stand It" - Never Shout Never
..."Baby I love you, I never want to let you go..."
June 9th
"Thank You" - Dido
..."And I want to thank you
For giving me the best day of my life
And, oh, just to be with you
Is having the best day of my life"
September 23rd
"Bloom" - The Paper Kites
..."In the morning when I wake
And the sun is coming through,
Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness,
And you fill my head with you."
I have to admit, the song came over the radio on my way to class one night and I had to pull over the car to cry...
September 30th
"The Heart Of Life" - John Mayer
You told me: "No matter what happens, you will always mean the world to me. I will always think good of you. I will always love you."
...song goes
"Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No, it won't all go the way it should
But I know the heart of life is good"
I cry just thinking about this song. I sent it to you when you were upset. I tried to help you. I weep every time now, I'm such a wreck, because I doubt I mean a fraction of what I ever meant to you, anymore...
After you sent that to me, I replied to you:
"I didn't see my inbox until tonight. My poor heart is so broken. It just dropped to the floor. I'm so afraid of losing you. Otherwise I'm okay..." ...
Sent you this song
October 3rd
"Suddenly" - The Sheepdogs
..."My world at night
Is as quiet as can be
A self imposed solitude
Isn’t half as bad as it seems
But lord I sit tonight, and I dream of somebody
Who in the world could it be?"
You sent me back
October 7th
"Such Great Heights" - The Postal Service (Cover by Iron and Wine)
..."I am thinking it's a sign
That the freckles in our eyes
Are mirror images
And when we kiss they're perfectly aligned
And I have to speculate
That God Himself did make
Us into corresponding shapes
Like puzzle pieces from the clay
And true it may seem like a stretch
But it's thoughts like this that catch
My troubled head when you're away"
I cried so hysterically.
I cried so hysterically.
I cried and cried and cried.
I now cry and cry and cry and cry
Because you had taken me
To such great heights
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 4:21 PM UTC
My mom used to blast
the Any Given Thursday live album
out of a 1996 silver stereo system
that sat crooked in our clear library cases
at the back of the living room
with cracked CD cases stacked
on top of each other like a forty story tower.
She would accompany John Mayer,
making every song a unique duet
as she dusted the shelves and used lemon Pledge
so the cabinets and coffee tables would shine like new.
I used to sit at the top of the stairs
in my pajama bottoms and one of my dad's
old undershirts
watching her dance like a ballerina in a theater
across the floor with a vacuum for a partner.
She was so lame.
I'm fifty two now and my mother doesn't sing any more.
Instead, I just play
"Your Body is a Wonderland"
over and over again when I'm cleaning
around my son's high chair or the seven
peppermint candles I have lit on the counter.
My daughter asks me to turn it off.
"Mom, no one listens to him anymore."
But I know she will one day.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
She loved staying up all night
He loved waking up early
She loved the smell of coffee shops
He hated coffee
She listened to John Mayer
He didn't even know who that was
She loved writing poetry
He caused her poetry
She loved him but hated to way he had her heart
He didn't pay attention to her but loved the was she was his
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
I'll admit
I miss how things used to be.
Hugs after runs
Holding hands following slow dances
Running to meet each other when we haven't been together in more than a few days
It was all my sense of security
Because nothing else could touch me
Because when you whispered
"I'll protect you"
Into my hair
It was a promise
A promise that everyone else broke
Everyone
But you.
I won't lie
I miss calling you Ian
Laughing at lame jokes
Listening to John Mayer on buses headed to paradise
Chasing each other through the woods
Sleeping in your sweatshirts
Only worrying if my hair really looked okay
Because it always did to you
No matter what.
I'll admit
I miss how things used to be.
But I only miss what happened
I don't miss you.
I never have
I never will
And I'm sorry.
For that
And that we couldn't be who we always believed we were.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC
The Fillmore
It’s cold these days,
just ask a stranger,
saw a show tonight at The Fillmore,
Dave Chapelle with John Mayer,
Dave mentioned the show,
when I saw him at The SF MOMA,
John signed my Frieda poetry book,
that I got today from The SF MOMA,
how am I so in the In Scene,
yet at the same time such a Goner,
come on we’re,
trying to make Greatness,
so there’s no time for the Procrastinators,
and all of their lateness,
got Volume 2,
of The HH Trilogy,
coming soon,
5/5/17,
thought I’d put you on notice,
I’ve noticed,
they’ve noticed me,
more than they used to,
before The Trilogies,
came back to America,
from a few months in Australia,
now I find when I go out,
people recognize me,
not sure when it happened,
when my works became bigger than me,
all I know is it happened,
now people approach me like they know me,
“Haven’t I seen you before?”,
that’s a common one,
I guess I’m somewhere between,
Famous as Fck,
and quasi-obsolete,
I’ll probably be,
gone but not forgotten,
pardon me,
I’m lost it happens often,
caught up in the moment,
high off life and coughin’,
in the light trying to focus,
off my head and on one,
God ****
God blessed,
on with the show,
and off with his head,
and that’s cold,
cold as a guillotine’s steel,
cold as Chicago in the winter,
when it’s 20˚ below before the wind chill,
for real,
it’s cold these days,
just ask a stranger,
saw a show tonight at The Fillmore,
Dave Chapelle with John Mayer,
Dave mentioned the show,
when I saw him at The SF MOMA,
John signed my Frieda poetry book,
that I got today from The SF MOMA,
how am I so in the In Scene,
yet at the same time such a Goner,
come on we’re,
trying to make Greatness,
so there’s no time for the Procrastinators,
and all of their lateness,
got Volume 2,
of The HH Trilogy,
coming soon,
5/5/17…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
author of multiple best selling poetry books and publisher of more poems than any other living poet.
∆
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 11:13 PM UTC
I posted a status today.
I got the job I wanted.
My heart was was on high.
And no one liked it.
I posted a status today.
It was a youtube video
about some funny dumb ****
And four people liked it.
I posted a status today.
It was political and a fresh point of view about gay rights.
Six people liked it. And one person de-friended me.
I posted a status today.
It was about drinking and partying my *** off.
Fifteen people liked it. And three commented on joining in.
I posted a status today.
I said how sad it was what I saw today:
That a couple is out to dinner.
And spent most of the time looking at facebook instead of
enjoying each others company and talking.
Twenty people liked it. One of them was the guy I saw at the restaurant.
A person commented on that status saying, ******
No one liked that person's comment.
I posted a status today.
"Say -- John Mayer"
What I meant to say was, "Why are we so afraid of saying what we need to say?"
Two likes.
I posted one last status today.
#Amurica.
Twenty-eight likes.
And a SMH as I looked at my smart phone.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 6:51 PM UTC
you can be john mayer,
and i will be your aretha.
bend your strings,
i will flex my pipes.
we can make music,
maybe even love.
the two are so close together,
so why pull them apart.
what do you say maestro?
wanna make a melody together?
Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 11:23 PM UTC
It’s December, it’s foggy and rainy, but that fits. Of course, a rainy Saturday means gathering in the common room with my roommates and watching either “The Hunger Games” or “Twilight.” Leong’s never seen Twilight, believe it or not, what are they DOing in China? We were explaining that It’s ok to talk through Twilight because it’s completely senseless. Yeah, good times.
We got back from Thanksgiving break, and we had to hit it - grinding to squeeze half a semester into 18 days. It’s a cornucopia of pressure. Yes, we’ve hit the books, but we’re still us.
Here’s a question: What’s the first season in December? “Spotify wrapped” season! EVERYONE has Spotify and once a year you get a summary of your listening habits. The reports came out this week and it’s all people are talking about. Comparing their lists, artists, tastes. Those lists say a lot about someone and it’s ok to not have taste, we should normalize it.
My top artist was Taylor Swift (duh) my top song was Taylor Swift’s “Renegade,” Spotify says I listened to it 285 times but that’s biased because more than once, when writing a paper, I put that song on a loop for 6 hours. My second most listened to song was “Champagne Problems” By Taylor. That song is so Rory, Gilmore Girls coded - like Rory saying, “you're on your own.” My other top artists are TV Girl, the backseat lovers and hypo campus. Yeah, I roll big.
Taylor’s also been in the conversation because Sophie has an ex-fem-friend (a freshman) who started seeing a 45-year-old guy. Let me ask you, what does a 45-year-old man have in common with an 18-year-old girl? We have Yale friends in their early 20s who consider themselves still teenagers and children and THEY are horrified. It’s naked fracking ********** (Sorry, that one foamed over.)
The whole situation is ripped from Taylor’s 2010 masterpiece “Dear John,” which is about her dating John Mayer when she was 19 and he was 30-something. Her friends warned her, but she wouldn’t hear. Taylor Swift can be corny, and I love the corn, but she can be topical too and even though I was 7 when she released “Dear John” (2010), it’s a timeless lesson.
Dec 3, 2022
Dec 3, 2022 at 2:01 PM UTC
"gravity has taken better men than me
just keep me where the light is"...John Clayton Mayer
where the light is...
this lyric gets carried from midnight to midnight next,
from troubled sleep to the bus stop, to and from work,
onto, back to, the homebound bus stop once again,
from solitary man to father to grandfather and cycles back
to once again a troubled sleeper poem writer,
who just wants to know, John,
when I find it, will, does the light fill, complete and heal the cracks...when I find that light...
in the city, starlight been banished by street lamps pointed downward, far too often it is believable that the whole world has been wrapped in white crinkled, filmy, wax paper, then,
how will the light know where it is needed most,
how will it find the empty chest cavity that writes these lines
there is real and artificial they say, nature vs. man made,
sun upon the face that heals for but an eight minute
bandaid summer ferry crossing, the fluorescent that says here, here is the bus stop, tarry, sit and rest, while you wait for
answer unscheduled, on a bench beneath to the street light
that illuminates a small swatch of street
between the dark spots on the x-ray of
this patient patient's soul awaiting,
are either of those
the light I need John?
no worries man, I'm just teasing, well knowing, neither of us,
tables turned, know where the light is, up high, down low,
if it is yellow or gold, if light is real or imagined,
only the sensation of the curettage needed to be healed when the
chest drained and the light supplants the drained fluids,
when it interferes, interpolates, how it found me or I it,
how I recognized it, how it reignited the home fire, and
I'll drop you line how light, lightly to find or be heavy found,
how light supersedes, defeats, the gravity of daily tugging,
and how what happens afterwards is golightly
up to us
2:10am **** it
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 2:21 AM UTC
I'm scared of the silence
Lately I distrust my thoughts
I don't like the voices in my head
That finds the confidence to speak up during the lateness of nights
I think the only reason I keep listening to John Mayer
Is because when he sings about the troubles I am facing
He sings in a melody that makes me confuse the ugliness of myself
For ocean waves and spring birds
His soft tenor creates an illusion of a truthful beauty
When in reality no truths are beautiful
All those who are honest are usually lonely
No one wants to be told the truth because
They can't handle it
No one wants to acknowledge something they can't handle
And no one
Should be forced to listen to their thoughts when it speaks of truths
That have yet been masked by the
Soft strings of the fender stratocaster Mayer cradles as he
Pours out ballads of lonely nights and broken loves
The biggest flaw about being human
Is the ability to feel for everything
It weakens the soul
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 5:28 AM UTC
With a tank full of gas and a yearning to
grab the keys and get lost for a little bit,
I left my quiet empty room.
The sun was shining and the
music pounded against the inside of my cars windows.
My mind was heavy and my heart was light.
I came to a road where you and I got out
and danced after staring at the stars;
It looks uglier during the day time.
I drove on the road where we blasted
John Mayer’s Slow Dancing In A Burning Room and
I still listen to the the lyrics and they still taste bitter
dripping in symbolism,
I wonder if you knew what you
were doing when you hit the play button.
I drove faster past the ice cream shop we
would go to everyday and everyday the lady behind
the counter thought we were a couple.
I drove by the playground where we pumped
our legs as we shouted out our life plans and
how different elementary teachers seem now.
I drove by the drive-in movie theater,
we said we would go and pile the car with pillows,
blankets and popcorn but never did.
I drove by the watering hole where
we spent the entire day there,
both of us hoping that we could have stayed
there a little bit longer.
I drove by your ex-girlfriends house,
I think I was part of your heart still on the lawn.
I drove by your mom’s work place and saw your car
and ended up crying.
I drove by the lake we went kayaking where we
imagined what we’ll be like in ten, twenty years.
I drove on a road with rolling hills,
I sped up and on the downhills my stomach matched
what my head was feeling when you were going in to kiss me.
I drove by the park where that time you
were telling me how you were leaving early for the summer.
I drove by our rival schools sports fields and
saw a man flying a kite and thought of you.
I drove by the town’s tiny airport and thought of
you and how you never liked being here down on the ground.
And just like that I hit a dead end.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
I am a mosquito on your holy-massive windshield.
You knock the air from my lungs and surround me in enough of it to crush my body.
It's all bigger than me,
all bigger than my eyes can see,
or my hands can hold.
All bigger than John mayor's body gives him credit for.
I explode my **** mixing with the blood of millions from which i drank, and you see it like a rorschach test and the results are in, you're the holy mary son of a ***** what killed by brother, and all my brothers, and our souls are in your brain screaming ****** and pain
All bigger than all I know the universe to be, you are lightyears ahead of my understanding,
but nonetheless I strive to get passed your windshield.
I see what you have inside there and I want it.
I want to be with you there. Crushing the souls of bugs like me.
Wiping them from the glass, and not thinking twice.
But since I can't, I'll make sure to bleed for you,
so much that I leave a good smear that will take your wiper blades at least four swipes to get me off.
I'll make sure you remember me.
is that Vera Hall on your stereo, singing out from beyond the grave, singing Death Have Mercy? Vera Hall from beyond the grave hatin' on John Mayer. Vera Hall the old sooth sayer. Vera Hall with one last prayer,
Oh Death, have mercy.
Vera Hall, in a dream but lucid.
Oh Death, you're out of wiper fluid.
Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 6:56 PM UTC
last seen with mass amounts of tenacity,
bright eyes that glow whenever she talks about the moon,
she's just as loquacious as bodacious, and always seen with friends (a pixie, a well-dressed waif, a girl who speaks the language of skeletons and blood). she's deeply enamored with a certain mexican grill, and often writing or taking a nap on public transportation, or smiling really widely while texting certain person(s) unnamed... also, she knows a hell of a lot about pokemon and the way the human heart works.
oh, and her laugh--you'd notice it. when she laughs you just know something's hysterical
where is she now?
she's a little reclusive
her smile's a little restrained
she stares too often at hourglasses and writes fervently in a leatherbound tome given to her on her 17th birthday.
she's waiting for the storm to pass but for now she's writing about it
don't tell the news i told you this though, cause i know they'll find her and force her to feel better as soon as possible. just give her this clock necklace and put it around her neck and tell her that time heals all things, she's learned this before.
tell her to eat some sour gummy worms and go to bed earlier, and stop feeling so sorry, to listen to a little less john mayer.
tell her it's okay to miss ghosts and that it's okay to wish to not be alone.
tell her to call tonight a night and stop rereading old stories or knocking on enemies' doors.
tell her that it'll be okay (even though she already knows it will)
and i promise you-
this is but the fairy tale trail of breadcrumbs that will bring you the old girl back.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
Karl Gustav Van der Meyer
era un gran jardinero.
Allá, en su alegre Holanda de cofias y molinos,
de canales y zuecos,
Karl Gustav cultivaba tulipanes extraños
en la penumbra de su invernadero.
Karl Gustav Van der Mayer soñaba con la gloria
de un tulipán fastuosamente *****
íntegramente ***** como las noches árticas,
como un luto total en terciopelo.
Y era así, día a día y año tras año.
Y su sueño era un sueño.
Pero él, imperturbable, regaba sus macetas,
meditando en abonos y en injertos.
(A veces, distraído, se guardaba los bulbos
en los bolsillos del chaleco...)
Karl Gustav Van der Mayer, indiferentemente,
vio blanquear sus cabellos.
Pasó el amor un día y él se encogió de hombros,
para seguir soñando con tulipanes negros...
Pero, una noche, alguien saltó la tapia.
Alguien, con un puñal.
Y el jardinero
cayó de bruces sobre sus macetas,
muerto.
Y alguien cavó en la tierra,
y echó el cadáver y tapó aquel hueco.
Karl Gustav Van der Mayer se quedó para siempre
en la penumbra de su invernadero.
Ah, pero un día, un día
se vio brotar del suelo
un tulipán de luto,
fastuosamente, íntegramente *****
Karl Gustav Van der Mayer no pudo ver su gloria,
pues la abonó su propio cuerpo.
Karl Gustav Van der Mayer
no supo que su muerte le dio vida a su sueño...
(Karl Gustav Van der Mayer siempre llevaba bulbos
en los bolsillos del chaleco...)
Por los viejos canales siguen pasando barcas,
y aún giran, como entonces, los molinos de viento.
Las muchachas sin novio regresan del domingo
entre un blancor de cofias y un trepidar de zuecos.
Ah, y, sin embargo,
Karl Gustav Van der Mayer era un gran jardinero!
1.1k
Jack: as so many of us yearned to know him,
Still knocking down 90% approval ratings,
50+ years dead: we still approve.
Dallas recognizing the event . . .
Cue Etta James: At laaaaaaaaaaaaast . . .
The City of Big D,
Dallas in the Sixties,
Still wide open,
Still Wild-Wild West Wild,
Still string ties & Stetsons.
Hizzoner/Da Mayer–Now,
Recognizing the venue, at last.
Finally, it was time
To take ownership of the crime scene.
Non-stop memorial coverage,
On CNN and MSN, of course.
Fox, meanwhile,
Doing agribusiness updates;
This year’s Carolina turkey crop &
Wuzzup in the cranberry bogs?
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 3:54 PM UTC