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[15 Dec 2009|10:42pm] |
i smoke cigarettes by myself
they're back to back
and ones for you
i think our thoughts together
and when we laugh
it's still brand new
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|
[02 Dec 2009|05:13pm] |
last night was
loving lysergide
and all the beauty of the world
multifaceted and fractured
fed through flaming filmstrips
broken bits of music
and off the surface of the moon
a sense of stellar absolute
and my twisted spine
lying in the grass of our backyard
gathering wool and stardust
just outside of anyone's eyeshot
and no more than an invaginated scream
from freedom
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| on Florence |
[04 Nov 2009|10:40am] |
down here
the crickets chirp endlessly
on moist nights
rainclouds every day
gray skies
and interstates paved white
bright
we break and build walls
ballers
hauling building materials
in a nissan altima
gray
calling shots we were never
paid to make
sleepwalking days away
from charlotte
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|
[18 Oct 2009|04:42pm] |
i dream of marriage
sometimes
of murderers
on mangled wings
and razor-sharp beaks
of bee stings
and bouquets
i dream of bright eyes
sometimes
of soft thighs
on blood stains
and warm winds spinning
of september scents
and chainsaws
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| busy signal |
[15 Oct 2009|06:42pm] |
i'm not sure
if it's a lack of communication
or what
but i'm feeling pretty frustrated
and down on my luck
fuck
tongue in knots
plus
yesterday's topics long forgotten
thoughts tossed, sloshed, and rotten
cuffed
and carried off by cops
belligerent
and i'm not sure
which direction we were headed in
best bets west
but then again
i'm always as good as lost
borders lined in soft chalk
coffee cups and marlboro butts,
but nobody wants to talk
fuck
how much does a call girl cost?
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|
| adios muchachos |
[24 Aug 2009|09:49am] |
so..
i quit my job and i'm
sort of in-between as far as
the feelings are concerned
the immediate grasp of
closure's more than i know
what to do with
but i'm more than positive
(that's positive positive)
that a limited budget'll work
wonders on my budding sense of
freedom
and by wonders i mean
the earthquake, hurricane,
volcanic ash, plane crash
and whirlwind type
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| "the small and meek" |
[22 Aug 2009|02:48pm] |
she's got this
quiet type of beauty
like one of those actresses
in old silent films
whose names i don't know
being so far removed
but i've seen enough
of the black & white
to know that she's as
ruby right as
dorothy
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| college 101 |
[17 Aug 2009|09:35am] |
the first day of school
and all these girls
with tiny, tight, shorts
and the geeks
with their laptops
and warcraft
yuppie youngsters
with capuchinos and
undersized polos
and sunglasses
book-bags packed with
overpriced paper
and future headaches
fat boys from
high school football squads
failed dropouts
and reformed goths
hispanics, asians,
and blonds, blonds, blonds
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|
| on a bit of that militant tip |
[13 Aug 2009|07:45am] |
they tell us
we, as a people
that's collectively
are intellectually feeble
unequal, genetically
disrespectfully discredited
and meant for nothing more
than forced work
expect each individual
that's separately
to accept any order
unquestioningly
especially when given
by men dressed professionally
killers in expensive shirts
sinners dealing in dirt
technically unethically
perfecting a profit
through methods as deadly
as everyday toxins
and the messages
mixed in with church
they feed us plastic
then ask if it hurts
laughing
like spleens splitting
we're working
our backs cracking
gasping
for clean living
but given
much less than we're worth
we
the original kings of this earth
once clad in golden robes
now folding tattered old rags
and using glad trash bags
for shirts
we went from
religious figures to niggers
flipped Jesus for Jigga
switched the crucifix
with pistol grips
pumping out blood till we burst
that's why their women hold close to their purse
they fear us
but lust for our girth
they fear us
but brought us here first
and what's worse
is they say that
we've made it all up
they claim that the race cards a bluff
times were tough
but today it's "enough's just enough"
what the fuck?
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|
[26 Jul 2009|04:41pm] |
too often this feels like
waiting around
watching women walk by
in tight dresses and
giant sunglasses
half-a-face hidden from the
broadside of police batons
too often this feels like
fugitives on the run from
lipstick stick-ups
pumps and press-on nails
steps on scales and
hidden lumps
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|
[13 Jul 2009|09:06am] |
we ain't gotta make sly small talk
smiling sideways
feeling each other with enormous egos
hoping to press our dominance
through hidden peepholes
in worn work clothes and torn sheets
we ain't gotta pretend that
this is where fate meets
us, face to face
we taste sweet
candy-coated confections
convincing missed heartbeats
and fake heat
we ain't gotta go back and forth
with all this awful raucous noise
bluffing, huffing-puffing
poised, me and the boys, we
seek and destroy
it ain't that serious, really
or even real, delirious
sick fictitious sycophant
laughing maliciously even
cheering us on
the man in the back
black curtains, cameras, and cash
green-screening all that
and bad chicks
we ain't gotta swing fists or push dicks
busting lips, nuts, or clips
in segregated cliques
preaching pimp knowledge precious
and pepsi politics
just
follow the yellow brick road
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|
[01 Jul 2009|01:17pm] |
another sleepless morning
7 hours late for my appointment
with the bed bugs bite
tossing and turning
like a wet slug might
locked in the salt mines
only it's not the skin that burns
tossing and turning
my dreams come early, stuck
i'm hungry, longing for company
or at least a lullabied goodnight
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|
[27 Jun 2009|07:29am] |
you know what i love most about her?
it's that absent bored look on her face
when there's a conversation going on around her
and she's just got nothing to say
but as soon as you make eye contact it's
the biggest brightest smile
oozing with sweetness and
sugar-coated gumdrops
enough to rot your teeth
i've never been a big fan of
doctors and dentists
or breath wasted on nonsensical sentences
but candy i can get down on till the root canal
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|
[26 Jun 2009|10:13am] |
I imagine it started in elementary school. I remember catching her eye across the group of desks, we called them tables, ours was number four. Her hair was a golden blond then, and freckles peppered her polished skin. We'd spend recess on separate corners of the playground, afraid of falling prey to the "cootie" stigma, and come back into class to see each other all sweaty with excitement. It never amounted to anything more than holding hands, which was better than perfect.
We'd grown apart by middle school. Looking back it seems that I'd simply lost any interest. Me and the fella's had taken to raising hell around campus, spitballs and dick jokes, you know. Still catching her eye from time to time, she'd giggle in groups of three or more and send me notes filled with bubble letters and confusing acronyms, scribbled on sheets of wide-ruled. Often times I was too preoccupied with being as cool as i was to return the favor.
Come high school, life got serious. Colleges and careers, drugs, sex, and all the pressures of pretending to be grown-up. In between the highs I still made time for PlayStation, Marvel comics, and super-late conversations across AOL's instant messenger. We'd talk about the people we knew, she and I, or nothing at all, and when the bell rang the next morning we'd pick up where we left off, laughing. Her hair a little redder than before, shorter, and freckles replaced with pimples; the reason she hid behind all that dark makeup. Holding hands finally led to spending the night. Her parents so clueless, or careless, and me, all nervous and sweaty palmed. I'd never kissed a girl with tongue, or gone any further, but, apparently, over the summer she'd had some practice. We'd made it official, and two years strong, until my disinterested nature and her penchant for nagging finally drove us apart. I'd spend the next year chasing her scent, mostly during sleep.
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| p.s.: back on my b.s. |
[22 Jun 2009|07:27am] |
baggy blue jeans:
dark. slightly
tight t.
shoes: nike,
white swoosh.
hair cut:
close. belt:
loose. earrings:
eight gauge.
bulletproof.
no necktie
noosed. mood:
casual. clothed
comfortable. colorful
doom tattoo.
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|
[20 Jun 2009|07:29am] |
in the future
garbage collection will be
a fully automated affair.
trash trucks will be robots
and trash cans will come with barcodes
no! microchips!
so that the aforementioned automations
can scan the contents of your waste.
this way the powers that be can
easily see if you've been recycling right
as well as what you've been hiding and
what types of products you buy.
you know, for advertising.
so they'll sell your waste information
to marketing teams and you'll get
phone calls in the middle of the night
from robots who only require a minute of your time,
and free samples in the post.
by then the oceans should be sky high,
so i assume they'll dump the junk there.
perhaps in large tanks,
which'll sink to the bottom and
they'll assure us that it's safe
and so much more cost effective than
launching into space.
until one of these tanks springs a leak and
the fish can't breath,
but by then we should be on mars
thanks to a large ship called "noah's ark"
filled with various genetic samples.
and sex will be obsolete
so we'll clone our kids with
night vision eyes, perfect teeth and
good hair.
they'll hate us cause we'll be outdated,
sun-starved and always complaining about
the lack of trees.
then we'll fade away and
they'll talk about us in history class.
looking all disinterested and chewing
everlasting bubblegum.
pop!
and all the wars will be forgotten
and replaced.
nanobots will recycle our body parts
for the clone army
and we'll conquer the cosmic countryside
'cause it's manifest destiny
and ours by right.
now i'm no scientist but
i've seen enough sci-fi flicks
to know the difference between
a cyborg and a mutant,
and that one day the human condition
will be left curbside with the trash.
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| Ms.Chance |
[18 Jun 2009|09:59pm] |
we talk on the phone and
i can hear her smiling
echoed in my own grin
and the giggles i can't hold on to.
we talk on the phone and
it's all lifesavers, peaches and cream.
she tells me about her weekend and
how busy she's been.
"but things are looking up," she says
and we should totally kick it.
i've got nothing but time so i agree and
reluctantly accept her goodbye.
hanging up the phone while
my head's hung up in pillows and
knowing, totally, that night
she's been thinking 'bout me.
tomorrow i'll call and the phone will ring
and ring...and ring...and ring...
next week she'll tell me how busy she's been
but how things are looking up.
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| fun with words. |
[15 Jun 2009|07:15am] |
|
i'm like a poor philanthropist, more or less, a cancer on the rich list of strong investments. life long embezzlement. check the records embellished for minor errors and pencil editing. i'm economic medicine where the market is sick, dizzy, flipped and headed in the wrong direction. chip off the old block my pops was peddling rocks on when my song was barely spinning, but then again rooted in future methods. skinning cats with laser beams like future weapons. the future's essence. ahead of my time like gandhi said it. mind embedded with roses and lead bits of jagged shrapnel like mines buried beneath the message. every missile minute and second, precious. god bless it, where gods efforts are echoed in my own.
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thegodhour's journal
