Smile

Smile, the alternative keeps storm-clouds close to his breath
And he hates not being welcomed with some sort of great conundrum
(They’re hard to keep handy, I’ve got a whole bunch in a jar if you want ‘em, top right shelf, third drawer on the left, just behind the tasty wheat)
I don’t use them, don’t like to let them out you see
That alternative, he still clings to me though
He keeps storm-clouds close to his breath
Just for us
How thoughtful is that
A disruption of this predictability it’s what I’ve always wanted!
You could have done something about the colour though

documentation internment

Documentation internment
Prison middling text-lines of fields of concept containment
We bracket in our feelings, the meaning is a wrenching prey-thing
Contortion wailing under retention, detention and attempt at arresting vacillation
Signifiers fall scorch-fried with input
How is it our words could fall, did they ever really stand for anything at all?

We try to push/plunge/pursue a significance to our signified
Words are not their subjects, are they even close if the chasm is unbridgeable?

Tetra-dextrous collusion of sodom-phonic hedonism
Lather egotistical aspirations, forgo perspiration and engender
Engender those days we remember
Clutch, touch such roughage and pearled wonderment

I had a dream last night where everything meant something
Everyone was thinking, everyone was thinking
I had a dream last night where nothing was in vain
This morning’s not the same, this morning’s not the same
I lost a dream this day, spoke nothing but my soul
It stripped me of my shoal, it offered up a hole

Whisper all the sacred blasphemes
Chatter all inane
Scream our secrets to the sun
We’ll bet to see who’s sane

Live wire dead birds

____

Taste the blood, strain the wine
But don’t you dare step out of line
There’s rules to follow, for your own good
Although they can’t say why
Any of us really should
Eat up every lie

Their cities fell to angry mobs long and long ago
They rose up from the underground and managed quite a show
Bare hands in their multitudes on silver spooned men grab
They tore their buildings to the ground
And put it on their tab
They ransacked all the governments and drove them to the sea
They burned the oil, toppled the tower, took the power
And that’s just fine by me
___

What’s a person anyways?
Can we exist outside of a moment, a breath, a minute
Are we composites of all our experience
Or just momentary snapshots in time?
Reacting, acting, being, seeing, learning, feeling
It sends the mind reeling
Am I any more than a twitching mass of reactions?
Couldn’t say, I’m too impulsive to decide apparently
Sorry to hear about the cat, it was a fine feline
Do we exist outside of now, or then, or anywhere really?
Who could say, has anyone been to these places, seen outside perception
Been without being?
It wasn’t me I can say that much, but one day maybe I will touch
The divine or just their swine
Either way I wouldn’t even believe it
____
Know your role
Stay in line
Don’t take parole
From acid shine

Believe in change
But don’t dare press
I could arrange
The hit for less

If you’ll just step this way sir
I’ll give you one just cause
To make the job very sure
But please hold the applause

Commit yourself right to the task
And hold it to the forge
Beat away its falsehood mask
And on the question gorge

____
What does it mean
If they call it obscene
Or callous
Or raucous
Or daft
They’re only words
Live wire dead birds
And they mean very little to me
______

Incontinent meaning

Eloquence pays no dividends to the cautious employer
Shaky hands fumble with gilded possibility
Tumbling and turbulent trepidation
Tempting assonance and tangling tangibility
Slipped concentration consternation profuse and profane
I disdain this addiction, affliction to persist with predictability

Poorer prelude for their demands and my answers
My fawning sycophantic appeasement
Hollow words adorned with tangled, sordid curios
A pale, bejewelled cutthroat carving stanzas
Cackled and corrosive, precious desolation, bless’d disfiguring of profane verse

Sacrilege heaped on worthy altars
Numinous imagery, illuminating incompetent applications
Effort filled futility, ability falling flat; (if it made an appearance)
_____

Cavalier bone-maidens
Ashen footed javelined runners
And the incorrigible tendencies for bellicose pretensions

Crisply parched waving of marrow-throated grasses
Phalanx packed plains pressed to the winds breast
Collective nestling, nudging pursed drought flowers

Marshalling their spearing thrusts
Bastion of shielding shelters
Arms upon arms grasping righteous ire
Stoking the fire of white hot blind fury

Muddied marks of the nemesis
Indistinct effigies rally blood-lusty creeds
Ensuring assailants, resuscitating coffers
Fill pockets with sanguineous refuse

Shove and siphon wild young souls
To fields maroon taint and voracious
Places placated only with bitter bodies’ spirits
Land lousy, awash with chaotic

Pierced ambitions, slashed and torn lives
Pensively expectant households gone dead with tension
Knotted hands wrung to sleep, empty, frozen

Empty, strewn alabaster corpses
Stuck and bled, spread across, jammed
Generous portions, murder jigsaw
Packed together in finality

Beautiful gore, bursting profitable
From graves blossoms of coinage
Flowerings plucked, patronage for the patriarchy

Slaughter for the dividends
Pay with cut-char flesh
Bloat the war chest for their ends
And burn ourselves dead fresh

____


Perfection in verse straddles the border of poetry and precision

From Hunting Clowns

Excerpts from some of the poetry I wrote during the first semester of school, during lectures.

_____
Can’t write out the light
Of emotional truth
Cloistered in my conscious
You’d need a real sleuth
To uncover the other
Who lives with me
But man I ‘love her peaches
Wanna’ shake her tree’
Shameless quotes sickly antidotes
Is losing pace with you
But in this modern world
I find my mind unfurled
And just what is a boy to do?

_____


Beast battle
Cobra rattle
Clashin’ claw and tooth
Gun fire yes sire
Lets kill the brute
Cash in hand scorch the land
For the mighty dollar
Cut down his crown
And give it to the scholar
Wall the place keeping face
Let the streets sweep
Incendiary attitudes
Dangerous to keep
Form the flank
Point the spear
Defending your brother
Don’t let him disappear
You’ll never find another
Dodge and weave
Shoot and leave
With no survivors
Anyone left alive
The enemies revivers
Bloody taste what a waste
Of his potential
Clean him up sort him out
His training was torrential
Drop the nuke just a fluke
We burned them all away
They couldn’t stop the mushroomed doomed top today

Winning the arms race
Only cost our humanity
But on the bright side
Check out this insanity!

_____


Knowledge is still power!
Topple the tower
Make sure to scour
Over the land
Form the band
Can’t let the government stand
And reprimand
The liars, the sires, whoever admires
Ruthless cut-throats keeping antidotes
From the sickly for the prickly plundering sundering
Brute barons screaming with thunder and rumbling
To appease their fees for war-making clamour
Keeping all the spoils to support their vicious glamour
They’d damn her if no one could see what she deserved
Absurd taking a life like writing down a word

_____


When life gets tough the weak get dead
The way it was floats in my head
Over-ripe dripping juice the human fruit is all but mould
We’d keep it well if maybe we had not let our lives be sold
On the market shelf we sit eager babies eyes like wind
Darting home for the one to take our hand wash the sinned
Smell from hair to toe it holds like vice clamps on the wooden bit
I tried my best to make it burn but signal lights would not be lit
Alone we sit now in the dark only motions from our minds
Shadows prey on helpless thoughts on terror sharpened teeth grinds
Holding out for one last shot to push the ball back to my court
A mangled pile, steel and flesh, how can one man just retort
Against the anger of the mass, livid coarsely like a rasp
Scraping back my covenant at fraying threads of hope the grasp
Falls too short, it’s yet too soon, to free myself of this prison
Sit and wait, talk to the moon, it will render its decision
____

More something contemporary

Loosely fitting analogy
I fling my boredom room-wise
Grinding for release, catch a tumultuous titillation
Fail the breezing, drop the bubbling and excite
Turn the screws to pin the nuts down
Those rowdy rag-tags bandying about the mind
Knocking and knuckling around, so much drunken decision making
Lost to the whim, drunk to the brim
And peeled from the greased dregs of: what for, why not
I slip to the sinister slicks, peeling down the asphalt face pressed hard on abrasion
Pulled the bloodied salad, sensory askew, the bobbling and frail pain of a view condemned
Stumble, like so many clipped animals; beastly without orientation
Murdering being against static; crammed against objectivity and unrelenting
A profusion of nemesis, fractured mirrors; envenomed splints hold reflections against intentions
I claw at stacks of ambition, with raw, rank, naked fingers, they tumble over broken bones, the shaken limbs and skeletal corpus, crushing myself for not letting go
Belch the sanguineous puddles, blood-lakes emerge. I am all pitter-patter pumping rusty empty through my veins
An ultimate exclamation, the will dies in my mouth, fetid corpse medication, blistering tongue, corroding maw and tooth. I wretch, bend me to fixation or break some bar; loosen some imprisonment. Let bound those phantom fawns all a-bloodied limbs, lesion as freedom, scrawls its curse-blessed monuments: “Through the storm I find safe haven, through desperation solutions met, many of the damned were save’n, withdraw from life and you’ll regret, never having all the chances, one must foster, one must curse, hope and doubt pursue their dances, and I find solace in the verse”

Something more contemporary

Hmmm, apparently I'm still getting this formatting business worked out. I haven't had much time to work with it as the internet has been down at home most of the time and I'm making these posts during class presently. Anyways, I figured I might as well put down something that's a bit more contemporary, in case anyone does stumble across this page somehow and decides to read something.



Stilted thoughts bellow loud
Rave above their station
Cramming in their crooked crowd
Coercing jubilation

We are the lost souls wandering without a cause
Hanging onto old clichés
Lashing out without a pause

Mangy mind pushing through craving some abuse
Doesn’t mind gnawing down thoughts that are obtuse
An awkward aside to tout grotesque pride
Grinding teeth on righteous thief for mistaken hope
Twisting and contorting blank thoughts just not to cope

We find paths wind too far out won’t let a sober ride proceed without a drunkard mount
Stumble though grumble brew of murmurs and dissent
Revelatory rebels waiting for consent

Tears of heaven keeping up the pain
Won’t hesitate falling despising disdain

We are the lost souls wandering without a cause
Hanging onto old clichés
Lashing out without a pause

Preaching the screeching of tired brakes and broken hawks
Wearing out leather jackets only wearing dirty socks
Standing nearly naked chasing the wind
Concerned with conversion of the ones who cure the sinned

Biting onto steel toes hoping for a kick
Lapping up reservoirs meant to cure the sick

We are the lost souls wandering without a cause
Hanging onto old clichés
Lashing out without a pause

Stripped down wearing frown
Bounding after irony
Water falling too hard for our hunters yet to see
Drink up dirty mix gasp grateful for the fix
Fighting with the frightful beast, getting burned, drunken wicks

Blanket stares unawares of distinguished quarry
Even though I cut you down, would it help to say I’m sorry?
This servile mentality that we have adopted
Only wants to flay the fool who suggests that we co-opted
This situation that’s fallen down only on our own heads
The habituation, fits of station, that our instinct dreads

We are the lost souls wandering without a cause
Hanging onto old clichés
Lashing out without a pause

Putter out our mutter days
Scratching off the starry ways
We would walk in waked dreams
Picking at the ideal thread
Pulling off our blessed seams

Lost now, we’ll cow to that bustling fit
Pile it on, what fun, giving one another shit

We like, broken bike pressing on our rusted palms
Whipping with the rosary munching on the toasted psalms
Some snipe for tripe keeping up their covenant
All of us can see why
We would want none of it

We are the lost souls wandering without a cause
Hanging onto old clichés
Lashing out without a pause

The Conkerbon

I know that generally art should stand alone.
However, as this is my first posting I couldn't really resist adding a little blurb. I've been considering what would be appropriate to start with for a while now. I've settled on this, it is a bit of a derivation from my now standard style. I wrote this about two years ago now, but nonetheless it was my most popular piece... in my high school. It was for a creative writing class and the assignment was to immitate the style of the Jabberwocky, and so I did.

The Conkerbon

The Conkerbon sat upon a whispful kree green shore

All attiter for never a quitter to tell his craspful lore

He sat ’neath a furly wreath to tell of Krump and Krum

A tale of old of those so bold to steal the Copta Plum

A crowd gathered all of them slathered in bitter brun oil

To fink their fur and ensure their scales and flails shan’t boil

Rendall the big and Quendall the tig showed for the fruptious affair

And Bogaline with Rip Divine placed mortiis in their hair

During the tale Premley the whale drove up upon the beach

So Mr.Louth the tenant of mouth the sagas song could reach

The conch of Tor called for more and more of them did come

Tink and Tun to the shore did run increasing the crowded sum

Frip and Freen brought Potok the Queen in her Copler stretch throne

All arrived so none deprived sat each upon a stone

The Isle did creak and Gruck the meek jumped and ran from sight

For Hortu Catou of the ocean stew had lost all his might

The group so large on the seaborne barge had sapped the carriers power

With no one to hold the isle of Rold things began to turn sour

The land waned and the white waves maned swallowed the Strum place whole

So to the sea they paid their fee with every last soul

Vacillating procrastination and the manifesto

So,
I have decided to finally commit myself to the annals of the Internet. To step past the hesitancy that arises at the idea that I can now be labelled a "blogger" and haven't the slightest shred of recourse to defend myself. There is obviously a great profusion of stereotypes around the idea of "blogging". Whoever is reading this is probably more a part of the blogging community than I am and so are better aware of them than myself; having only been on the outside looking in until this moment. All of this is irrelevant though, one should never be driven to make assumptions based on hearsay. As with any form of media there is bound to be good and bad (if one cares for such objective terms) and one should be prepared to encounter both when venturing anywhere whether it's within the electronic or physical.

It is on account of my roommate that I began on this endeavour. He began last semester and has been making regular posts; I was intrigued by the idea and kept a watchful eye upon it from a safe distance. (As a tribute to him I suppose I should tell you his blog is called "Rhyme Ching Clockwork" he keeps a steady flow of poetry and interesting asides going, I would definitely advise checking it out.) I thought to myself that is blog seemed to be an excellent method for channeling certain creative vibes which I usually keep locked up on my hard drive as opposed to floating about cyber-space. Although, if I may borrow a phrase from Ben "Yahtzee" Crawshaw putting media on the internet- "is like throwing a message in a bottle out into a sea made up entirely of messages in bottles". However, if I'm lucky a few people with interesting ideas may notice my bottle and tell me what they think of it.

What really prompted me to finally take this step was the absolute mind-numbing frustration which emerges when one spends far too long editting and fondling over a paper on Heidegger (hence the posts title referencing procrastination.) By this point the essay is well in hand (I hope) as I have taken my sweet time in whittling out this post over several hours. I am now feeling quite exhausted so I should probably speed this along.

My aim in starting this blog is basically to have a conduit for my attempts at poetry. I have written something like 90+ pages since last semester began and I grew weary of keeping them all cooped up in word documents. I will be slowly leaking choice pieces on the blog as well as anything new which stands out. I will attempt to keep the information on my personal life to a minimum because I feel the poetry is probably a hell of a lot more interesting. Anyways if I do keep this up, anyone reading this will be kept posted.

Be Well
T.J.