who would have guessed
8/19/05
will this morning light bring
the memory of her back
the way she came to me in the
blue wet night
dancing with the raindrops?
her hair fell down like lively ropes
and she had me
tied up and strung up
under the night
in her tangle of snakes
and those two eyes
(slitted-like)
beneath it lit up the night with
an evil fire!
from her mouth issued
a tongue neatly forked
tasting the air and my lust
and as she bent down
to take
my life
with a parting of her lips
I knew
this was the way
I wanted it to be
8.19.2005
8.16.2005
jumbledaya
8/16/05
as I sit here tonight before a time of slumber
doubtfully serene yet calling
things become blended in my head
like eggs and flour and sugar and stuff
a hotcake in my skull, part of a complete
headbreakfast
of salesmen cozily wrapped in sausages and
boxcars in barbeques –
hamburgers, mere hamburgers
the voice of death on the battlefield
the cries of the fallen like the mice
under
my
bed
who leave
grain
and turds
piled high
like kingly rats
who slide along
inside their rat-busses
made of ice
commuting to the office
in the dead
of summer
(don’t you love
the way
the cold feels?)
the rats do
8/16/05
as I sit here tonight before a time of slumber
doubtfully serene yet calling
things become blended in my head
like eggs and flour and sugar and stuff
a hotcake in my skull, part of a complete
headbreakfast
of salesmen cozily wrapped in sausages and
boxcars in barbeques –
hamburgers, mere hamburgers
the voice of death on the battlefield
the cries of the fallen like the mice
under
my
bed
who leave
grain
and turds
piled high
like kingly rats
who slide along
inside their rat-busses
made of ice
commuting to the office
in the dead
of summer
(don’t you love
the way
the cold feels?)
the rats do
o, to instead become fond of the english cuisine
8/16/05
so much of the time
the things I spy around me
end up having this crispy
Cajun-like
flaky charred coating covering
their cool calm insides
hiding away their delicate clockwork tickings
like a rustedshut musicbox
what you see
is not what you see
but only that
which you see
because
for me
only Cajun-style trust
will do
on my plate –
for a flavor burned through and through
I can only send back
to the kitchen
in a fury of disgust
8/16/05
so much of the time
the things I spy around me
end up having this crispy
Cajun-like
flaky charred coating covering
their cool calm insides
hiding away their delicate clockwork tickings
like a rustedshut musicbox
what you see
is not what you see
but only that
which you see
because
for me
only Cajun-style trust
will do
on my plate –
for a flavor burned through and through
I can only send back
to the kitchen
in a fury of disgust
8.06.2005
My tongue is back in order! This pleases me a lot. Ladies, i know it's tough, but please try to restrain yourselves.
Tonight's been a good night. Beer at Zan's, and Frangelico cokes at my house. And plenty of socializing with Zan and Kris and their family. And, to top all that off, I'm back to writing! Granted, it's a bit choppy, but sometimes these things happen. I'm not the most pleased with my latest ramblings, but they seem complete in their own right, so i guess i'll leave them as-is and keep writing and posting.
I hope you've had a wonderful Friday night, reader, and dream sweetly tonight.
-----------------------------
perhaps I was wrong all along
8/6/05
we were
in
the flashes and the heat that night
just me
and the fluorescent gay man
from new york
sitting in front of me
first class MSP to SLC -
the air turbulent we sailed over
was the desire in his smile
and the bolts of lightning that shot down
to the earth below us
were like that longing in his eyes
as he glanced into mine
wondering
wishing
and hoping
in the way that
a pink-clad strapping lad
would do
when looking upon
such a fine man
as myself
alas, my cold that night
was the chill of the wind at such a height – freezing and
deathly bleak
against the heat and fury of the light
and I felt bad for the chill was not mine
but of the sleep I was missing
and the extremity of the moment;
thunderstorms from cruising altitude
over Wyoming, for someone like I
are rare events
and I meant no harm to the man
who simply wanted to have a little
fun
be himself
and fuck my brains out
he was a genuinely pure soul
and could have been a wonderful friend to me
(certain sexual discrepancies aside)
but sleep
and that pulsing throbbing flashing from the south
were sadly more important
than a rare man’s heart
Tonight's been a good night. Beer at Zan's, and Frangelico cokes at my house. And plenty of socializing with Zan and Kris and their family. And, to top all that off, I'm back to writing! Granted, it's a bit choppy, but sometimes these things happen. I'm not the most pleased with my latest ramblings, but they seem complete in their own right, so i guess i'll leave them as-is and keep writing and posting.
I hope you've had a wonderful Friday night, reader, and dream sweetly tonight.
-----------------------------
perhaps I was wrong all along
8/6/05
we were
in
the flashes and the heat that night
just me
and the fluorescent gay man
from new york
sitting in front of me
first class MSP to SLC -
the air turbulent we sailed over
was the desire in his smile
and the bolts of lightning that shot down
to the earth below us
were like that longing in his eyes
as he glanced into mine
wondering
wishing
and hoping
in the way that
a pink-clad strapping lad
would do
when looking upon
such a fine man
as myself
alas, my cold that night
was the chill of the wind at such a height – freezing and
deathly bleak
against the heat and fury of the light
and I felt bad for the chill was not mine
but of the sleep I was missing
and the extremity of the moment;
thunderstorms from cruising altitude
over Wyoming, for someone like I
are rare events
and I meant no harm to the man
who simply wanted to have a little
fun
be himself
and fuck my brains out
he was a genuinely pure soul
and could have been a wonderful friend to me
(certain sexual discrepancies aside)
but sleep
and that pulsing throbbing flashing from the south
were sadly more important
than a rare man’s heart
8.04.2005
backtrack
8/4/05
if only the world would stop
and forget how to tie its shoes
and have to start over again
like a sick and nervous little
five year old girl
on the first day
of kindergarten
then,
perhaps,
we could have our clean slate
then,
perhaps,
we could all
have peace and smile
and be free of the chalk of our
ancestors, the scribblings that
lock us in like black prison bars –
white lines strong as steel
yet weak like a child’s
shoelaces
tied round and tight by her parents
8/4/05
if only the world would stop
and forget how to tie its shoes
and have to start over again
like a sick and nervous little
five year old girl
on the first day
of kindergarten
then,
perhaps,
we could have our clean slate
then,
perhaps,
we could all
have peace and smile
and be free of the chalk of our
ancestors, the scribblings that
lock us in like black prison bars –
white lines strong as steel
yet weak like a child’s
shoelaces
tied round and tight by her parents
Yeah, i got rear-ended today, so that was fucking awesome! And had some unexpected oral surgery, too, so let's hear it for not being able to eat without getting a mouthful of blood with your vegan cheese!
mmmmmmmm!
Sorry if I sound a wee disgruntled, but it's been one of those days. Anyone want to get wasted?
mmmmmmmm!
Sorry if I sound a wee disgruntled, but it's been one of those days. Anyone want to get wasted?