Exclamation, aggravation
sidewinding sycophants
adulation, reputation
dredging dread for half a chance
to uncover a smother of dire-papal chants
scatter silvered platter toss incendiary ants
to the winds hard-pinned by the gust and bluster rants
whip flay the plants, scry to the sky that we could dry half a dance
don't give a glance
over shoulder
it'll make the stalkers bolder
so attests the folder we compiled
we've kept eyes on these guys before you were a child
so he smiled wild & wide, lean much closer I'll confide
how I lied
Our words are a high sulfur tide
I tried to set my stride straight
but straining through the system sets me to irate
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Poests from class time
Coffee, Coffee how I wish to have thee
Early in the morning time wouldn’t a fresh java brew be so sublime
Sometimes I need a cup just to get my engine going
Love that dark drink, it gets the proper juices flowing
If I don’t get my coffee in the morning time
I wouldn’t put it past me to put in a crime
For the java, my lava, I need it to burn don’t deserve the coffee
Well it’s time you learn, about how it sticks its caffeine chase tricks
Doling out its licks keeping on the fix, I would nix my addicts but
I need it, I want it, its sitting all around, can’t get my head off the coffee stained ground
It’s there when I’m sleeping, and when I’m awake, when I’ve done some right or if I’m deep in mistake
A vice so nice, I’ll tighten my own screws, there are worse things, crack, smack, booze
However, how clever, the caffeine machine can be, infiltrating house and home, seeping in society
It has holds, it enfolds so many we see, they fall to their coffee cup, drowning with glee
When I was a boy I thought “Why is it that stink-drink is sought” Now that I’m a little older, inhibitions grew some colder, found myself wound up strung out on that drink that I think has me on the brink of a junky-funky that this is a drug; but it hangs around the world smiling and smug
But damn, what I’d do for a coffee right now…
Fight for the night of breaking free
Pugnacious, outrageous window smashing glee
Topple society, tear up the roots burn down the tree
Give voice to the mutes
Content, no repent for our demeanour
Never find colour blind grass that was greener
Made man meaner through derision, that’s not why
Meaner by decision, no but nice try
Meaner by make, there’s no mistake, born from blooded lake
Of death for deaths sake, at morality claw and rake and take
What you can take, but ameliorate to plan if you were a fan
Best to not ban free will, sugar pill, sanguine till, suited shill
Cheap thrill, steel frill, hard mill, save it for yourself
There is no wealth beyond our perception, no exception
To human contaminants, we scorch all we touch
Glorious, notorious, burning and shining, crude and refining
Death and fine dining, encircled lining, candy land-mining
You, try not to put a dent in this one, you know how haphazard we are
I wish I had a muffin, muffins are tasty
Sometimes pasty
But mmhmm muffins
Chocolate chips atop and within
So good, it must be some kind of sin
Muffins yum, yum muffins
Battery is running down, how will I last?
Without a distraction or note taking task
Forty-five minutes left sitting on the clock
Nothing to shelter me from academic talk
I’m on the power saver setting, I turned down the brightness
I didn’t think that lecture would end like this
Not quite alright, I should’ve charged the comp
Damn this battery wish it wouldn’t drop
Its levels, dishevels its own use, I know I leave it plugged in
I know of its abuse
But still how I will that it would stay
That it would run my screen and not go away
I’m sick, I’m tired, all that I desired
Is for a warm bath, to avoid viral wrath
And keep distracted until I find a path
From this place, leave and trace
Without disgrace save what face
Don’t want to walk out, make me pout
To think I’m wasting tuition or face derision
But I’m not exactly paying attention
Very little taking in, littler retention
Early in the morning time wouldn’t a fresh java brew be so sublime
Sometimes I need a cup just to get my engine going
Love that dark drink, it gets the proper juices flowing
If I don’t get my coffee in the morning time
I wouldn’t put it past me to put in a crime
For the java, my lava, I need it to burn don’t deserve the coffee
Well it’s time you learn, about how it sticks its caffeine chase tricks
Doling out its licks keeping on the fix, I would nix my addicts but
I need it, I want it, its sitting all around, can’t get my head off the coffee stained ground
It’s there when I’m sleeping, and when I’m awake, when I’ve done some right or if I’m deep in mistake
A vice so nice, I’ll tighten my own screws, there are worse things, crack, smack, booze
However, how clever, the caffeine machine can be, infiltrating house and home, seeping in society
It has holds, it enfolds so many we see, they fall to their coffee cup, drowning with glee
When I was a boy I thought “Why is it that stink-drink is sought” Now that I’m a little older, inhibitions grew some colder, found myself wound up strung out on that drink that I think has me on the brink of a junky-funky that this is a drug; but it hangs around the world smiling and smug
But damn, what I’d do for a coffee right now…
Fight for the night of breaking free
Pugnacious, outrageous window smashing glee
Topple society, tear up the roots burn down the tree
Give voice to the mutes
Content, no repent for our demeanour
Never find colour blind grass that was greener
Made man meaner through derision, that’s not why
Meaner by decision, no but nice try
Meaner by make, there’s no mistake, born from blooded lake
Of death for deaths sake, at morality claw and rake and take
What you can take, but ameliorate to plan if you were a fan
Best to not ban free will, sugar pill, sanguine till, suited shill
Cheap thrill, steel frill, hard mill, save it for yourself
There is no wealth beyond our perception, no exception
To human contaminants, we scorch all we touch
Glorious, notorious, burning and shining, crude and refining
Death and fine dining, encircled lining, candy land-mining
You, try not to put a dent in this one, you know how haphazard we are
I wish I had a muffin, muffins are tasty
Sometimes pasty
But mmhmm muffins
Chocolate chips atop and within
So good, it must be some kind of sin
Muffins yum, yum muffins
Battery is running down, how will I last?
Without a distraction or note taking task
Forty-five minutes left sitting on the clock
Nothing to shelter me from academic talk
I’m on the power saver setting, I turned down the brightness
I didn’t think that lecture would end like this
Not quite alright, I should’ve charged the comp
Damn this battery wish it wouldn’t drop
Its levels, dishevels its own use, I know I leave it plugged in
I know of its abuse
But still how I will that it would stay
That it would run my screen and not go away
I’m sick, I’m tired, all that I desired
Is for a warm bath, to avoid viral wrath
And keep distracted until I find a path
From this place, leave and trace
Without disgrace save what face
Don’t want to walk out, make me pout
To think I’m wasting tuition or face derision
But I’m not exactly paying attention
Very little taking in, littler retention
A post
Words that I am finding too self referential
Trying to break through to grasp a differential
Method or means, the substance of seams
Hold no water dreams dripping on the reams
Praise the prosaic in a mosaic of colluding concluding dirty holy and archaic
Shambling, rambling shifty sided gambling aim to stop the scrambling
Of collectors and defectors to the cult of crass cuttings
Emphasize their muggings and doling out their sluggings
Steal the soul to fill their role of a selfish shoal
Of piranhas chewing faunas not for their maw, it’s just what they saw
They’ll chew it hot or raw, stepping over law, rake it with the claw
Gashes and slashes for their pleasure, just to measure how deep they can pierce
Without being fierce or pouring tears, they stay stoic but play-fighting heroic
Although I never bought it, they sold it to me cackling in glee
While stuffing their coffers with stupid offers of, “save me, save me I’ll pay thee fully”
Their minds have gone woolly, all it takes is the spark, to spur the dark
And catch their head, burn with dread, that being said
Why bother to keep these fools from slaughter?
Well, what if they caught her?
You’d fight and incite the daemons you keep
To stall her sleep, everlasting, regardless of the casting
You’d do all you can to break their bleak plan
And keep her
We are all somebody’s something
And that is one thing
To hold onto
Never let go, submit to undertow
You’d have nothing to show
For your struggle, for ours
For her
Let that spur your person to action
Forget satisfaction, it’s a fraction
Of life,
There are more important things
Than a masturbating knife
Don’t forget why you are
Don’t betray being
Live and so love
Fiercely
Trying to break through to grasp a differential
Method or means, the substance of seams
Hold no water dreams dripping on the reams
Praise the prosaic in a mosaic of colluding concluding dirty holy and archaic
Shambling, rambling shifty sided gambling aim to stop the scrambling
Of collectors and defectors to the cult of crass cuttings
Emphasize their muggings and doling out their sluggings
Steal the soul to fill their role of a selfish shoal
Of piranhas chewing faunas not for their maw, it’s just what they saw
They’ll chew it hot or raw, stepping over law, rake it with the claw
Gashes and slashes for their pleasure, just to measure how deep they can pierce
Without being fierce or pouring tears, they stay stoic but play-fighting heroic
Although I never bought it, they sold it to me cackling in glee
While stuffing their coffers with stupid offers of, “save me, save me I’ll pay thee fully”
Their minds have gone woolly, all it takes is the spark, to spur the dark
And catch their head, burn with dread, that being said
Why bother to keep these fools from slaughter?
Well, what if they caught her?
You’d fight and incite the daemons you keep
To stall her sleep, everlasting, regardless of the casting
You’d do all you can to break their bleak plan
And keep her
We are all somebody’s something
And that is one thing
To hold onto
Never let go, submit to undertow
You’d have nothing to show
For your struggle, for ours
For her
Let that spur your person to action
Forget satisfaction, it’s a fraction
Of life,
There are more important things
Than a masturbating knife
Don’t forget why you are
Don’t betray being
Live and so love
Fiercely
Monday, March 16, 2009
Mrs. Direction
Mrs. Direction
Let us see if a point can be perceived or if a conceived then deceived purpose can skim the surface
Rehearse this
A man gives out gum on a street corner to unsuspecting youth screening truths and screaming sooths later on the children turn old and ultimately die, how does the gum relate to this phenomena can we say indisputably that there is no relation? How does the sensation of this query busting nation station this quotation?
If the same man who gave out gum added the sum of twenty nine clips of ammunition how would this decision affect any derision he would receive from the bereaved associates of the old dead youth?
Question: has one lost sight of the plight of this poem, did you see it, free it? From its verbal turpitude, what is its mood? Preposterous attention retention
Moving again
If one was a just cause for maximizing joy devising diversions, not to cast aspersions, but would this amount to perversions of equality; would we see downcast glee for all of society besides those we raise with on selective propriety. How does this affect those youths, what truths are worthy news?
Problems with poetics, judging by aesthetics, is the gleaning; word cleaning, letter leaning and metaphoric meaning. Start your weaning from those obscene, pristine floors and shores of flotsam phonetics.
Will this bill with its fill of confusion and a profusion of a literary obituary to some stationary turning of observant learning. Abandon all hope that you may cope and wring this rope enough to slope that feeling that your mind is reeling from scrabbling to grasp hold and enfold the meaning of your poetic gleaning
So now the man holds a plan that plots a scan of the surrounding wasteland where the old youth from lines told how the gum was roughly the sum of their degradation; how their station of elation at the realisation that sucrose crusted satiation was grasped and how they gasped their being out, so devout to recount that, that man, fiendish plan, ragged ran them to the ground crunching sound we have found.
Have you lost track of the mans’ meaning? Were you weaning it from this screening it, does it matter? Will this spatter of query evoke a theory that something is wanting from this flaunting of a literate barbiturate?
Suggestion: Curds of words congeal to seal an unreal feel from your mind (un-confined if refined or designed)
Remember the man, give a scan of the piece, does his lease to decease the youth and grease the truth have anything to do with (tell me you sleuth) the true intention of this invention (does my constant chiding and verbal biding seem like confiding to a dying soldier, making fading bolder) now a question that’s older
If one sees that intellect frees a monkey from his cage, where does the rage take centre stage? When the primate starts to salivate and questions fate, brings up debate with his brother will the other return courteously or placate curiosity with ferocity; what atrocity exists in the natural exchange of a corpus deranged (or changed) through wrath and attack of tool touting smack, would you hit back? How does it bind your hands with demands, those civil stands and contrabands upon abuse profuse and clues to environmental ethics of: no ethics in the slightest
Now the brightest among us may perk your ears and shimmy round fears that the careers of the analyst or canonist are within striking distance; push your pistons to reach the breach and please, please teach me what it is that is in this line that is so divine, lest you malign my poor design or will resign to how little we all pretend we don’t know
Won’t you show
Your ignorance off
Flaming moth
Regardless, if we charge this problem directly expectedly we will run into obstacles if our grammar stalls them will that eliminate or simply inseminate the issue, I wish you could see past this fresh true big and blue sky, we all die, even when we try to sidestep, to except this confusion, a profusion of illusion non-conclusion and diffusion among this rabble, will they dabble with gods prods and tooling clods; hack my mods to free us from the kingdom of deadly sum.
Did you forget that man, another scan, his age is past, he was cast a stone, alone. Will you condone, his holy zone of hell, how swell this idea this welling and wheeling flee, flee from obvious glee too bright to see. Please see past the stones we cast, have a blast, on the house, let your brain chase that souse of mind we may find that we have climbed above the maze, wanton craze of thoughtful phase let the plays part their ways with the intellectual ineffectual bleating of hearts past beating and thoughts past heating. Don’t turn back on the one way track, choice is as illusory as any other carry of decision, face derision bravely, make provision insanely, “let us all join hands and sing the-“fuck-off prayer. You left me under stair to rot, you bought me a gift for yourself, left hope on the shelf, serve yourself, great divine fuckery.
Did we veer off the path? Do the math if one motive plus all the confusion (nay, a profusion of delusion) providing the collusion of sensation and relation to our habitation. Again, meditation on origin flaws (gleaning meaning) mindfully claws. Gummed down gunner, let led fly, do your best to truthful ply, sooth say lie, make meaning cry. The world unfurled all its derision, on our decision (make the incision, into the pale, pressed to the veil) forcing wail, and planned derail. Meant to split attention gaze, and motive flays, whittle down the days and all the ways we thought we knew to live.
So where are we left?
Totally bereft? Have we cleft, interpretation from sensation?
Great elation, at the pieces termination?
What of the man, where can he stand, if we did sand his external, revealing infernal deportment or an assortment of the court meant villainy. Distil in me the meaning, this screening will convey, some might say; “There is no way this comes to much, a verbal buffoon with a linguistic crutch.” Maybe those who look too hard will only manage to retard the meaning that I do intend, but let us not ever pretend that plain of face is not to be. It stares at you as it stares from me.
Long twitchy eyes, surprise, surprise they won’t stare at bare reality;
Seeking only the kaleidoscopic wonderment of un-living earths.
Let us see if a point can be perceived or if a conceived then deceived purpose can skim the surface
Rehearse this
A man gives out gum on a street corner to unsuspecting youth screening truths and screaming sooths later on the children turn old and ultimately die, how does the gum relate to this phenomena can we say indisputably that there is no relation? How does the sensation of this query busting nation station this quotation?
If the same man who gave out gum added the sum of twenty nine clips of ammunition how would this decision affect any derision he would receive from the bereaved associates of the old dead youth?
Question: has one lost sight of the plight of this poem, did you see it, free it? From its verbal turpitude, what is its mood? Preposterous attention retention
Moving again
If one was a just cause for maximizing joy devising diversions, not to cast aspersions, but would this amount to perversions of equality; would we see downcast glee for all of society besides those we raise with on selective propriety. How does this affect those youths, what truths are worthy news?
Problems with poetics, judging by aesthetics, is the gleaning; word cleaning, letter leaning and metaphoric meaning. Start your weaning from those obscene, pristine floors and shores of flotsam phonetics.
Will this bill with its fill of confusion and a profusion of a literary obituary to some stationary turning of observant learning. Abandon all hope that you may cope and wring this rope enough to slope that feeling that your mind is reeling from scrabbling to grasp hold and enfold the meaning of your poetic gleaning
So now the man holds a plan that plots a scan of the surrounding wasteland where the old youth from lines told how the gum was roughly the sum of their degradation; how their station of elation at the realisation that sucrose crusted satiation was grasped and how they gasped their being out, so devout to recount that, that man, fiendish plan, ragged ran them to the ground crunching sound we have found.
Have you lost track of the mans’ meaning? Were you weaning it from this screening it, does it matter? Will this spatter of query evoke a theory that something is wanting from this flaunting of a literate barbiturate?
Suggestion: Curds of words congeal to seal an unreal feel from your mind (un-confined if refined or designed)
Remember the man, give a scan of the piece, does his lease to decease the youth and grease the truth have anything to do with (tell me you sleuth) the true intention of this invention (does my constant chiding and verbal biding seem like confiding to a dying soldier, making fading bolder) now a question that’s older
If one sees that intellect frees a monkey from his cage, where does the rage take centre stage? When the primate starts to salivate and questions fate, brings up debate with his brother will the other return courteously or placate curiosity with ferocity; what atrocity exists in the natural exchange of a corpus deranged (or changed) through wrath and attack of tool touting smack, would you hit back? How does it bind your hands with demands, those civil stands and contrabands upon abuse profuse and clues to environmental ethics of: no ethics in the slightest
Now the brightest among us may perk your ears and shimmy round fears that the careers of the analyst or canonist are within striking distance; push your pistons to reach the breach and please, please teach me what it is that is in this line that is so divine, lest you malign my poor design or will resign to how little we all pretend we don’t know
Won’t you show
Your ignorance off
Flaming moth
Regardless, if we charge this problem directly expectedly we will run into obstacles if our grammar stalls them will that eliminate or simply inseminate the issue, I wish you could see past this fresh true big and blue sky, we all die, even when we try to sidestep, to except this confusion, a profusion of illusion non-conclusion and diffusion among this rabble, will they dabble with gods prods and tooling clods; hack my mods to free us from the kingdom of deadly sum.
Did you forget that man, another scan, his age is past, he was cast a stone, alone. Will you condone, his holy zone of hell, how swell this idea this welling and wheeling flee, flee from obvious glee too bright to see. Please see past the stones we cast, have a blast, on the house, let your brain chase that souse of mind we may find that we have climbed above the maze, wanton craze of thoughtful phase let the plays part their ways with the intellectual ineffectual bleating of hearts past beating and thoughts past heating. Don’t turn back on the one way track, choice is as illusory as any other carry of decision, face derision bravely, make provision insanely, “let us all join hands and sing the-“fuck-off prayer. You left me under stair to rot, you bought me a gift for yourself, left hope on the shelf, serve yourself, great divine fuckery.
Did we veer off the path? Do the math if one motive plus all the confusion (nay, a profusion of delusion) providing the collusion of sensation and relation to our habitation. Again, meditation on origin flaws (gleaning meaning) mindfully claws. Gummed down gunner, let led fly, do your best to truthful ply, sooth say lie, make meaning cry. The world unfurled all its derision, on our decision (make the incision, into the pale, pressed to the veil) forcing wail, and planned derail. Meant to split attention gaze, and motive flays, whittle down the days and all the ways we thought we knew to live.
So where are we left?
Totally bereft? Have we cleft, interpretation from sensation?
Great elation, at the pieces termination?
What of the man, where can he stand, if we did sand his external, revealing infernal deportment or an assortment of the court meant villainy. Distil in me the meaning, this screening will convey, some might say; “There is no way this comes to much, a verbal buffoon with a linguistic crutch.” Maybe those who look too hard will only manage to retard the meaning that I do intend, but let us not ever pretend that plain of face is not to be. It stares at you as it stares from me.
Long twitchy eyes, surprise, surprise they won’t stare at bare reality;
Seeking only the kaleidoscopic wonderment of un-living earths.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Village Ideologues
I only hate your slavishness
Nothing personal
Strictly fitness
Survival of
People comma we the
I sold my missiles for bottle caps
And bicycles snaps
Leather chaps a chance to prance freely
Be gay without any connotations
Be anything without any connotations
I only hate you for your slavishness
Your gluttony
Your litany
Of consumerist hedonism
Drizzled like chocolate on
Corpse of causality
Mentality is as is
As we all know
What do I have to show
For all the effervescent glow
That ragtime radio-show
It’s been looping for 200 years too few
Someone turn off that radio with the 12 gauge please
___
Think into existence
Speak into creation
If only
If we went backwards then
It would all be possible
The solution to your answer is within the problematic range
This first bar on the graph represents what you’d expect
This second and third and fourth are re-enforcements of what you’d expect (maybe with some correlation, comments on causation) still no great sensation
But watch what happens when we break the pattern
Bar number five is of infinite gravity view it and break your china doll smiles
And bemused brows
Accept the derangement in all of its shifted significance
We wouldn’t want things to get boring now would we?
Here’s a cap-gun, some caps, a bottle of gin and a switch blade
Go distribute the false securities and then when they’re hooked
Cut them off
___
Just for one day I’d like to say how I broke down some walls
I opened my maw and the shadow saw the hate it fails and stalls
I’d tear it around and rip it through and find a place to plant
A ghastly seed, it fed on greed, and tried to face a rant
I’d stand on stilts and shout it out, on how it ought to be
Arrange your life, rip out that strife, and then I’d let you see
How it was I felt for us, how I make my way throughout the day
I like to play and care for this or that, I care for one, my light, my sun
Although I know to share, so many need some care
Although I don’t know where, to give and live
What should I sieve out from that doubt
Which is paramount to life/love/living/death
All that is and should be
___
Futility drives hard against the decadent shell
Knowing now, knowing how all was known too well
I count the time the knife has struck against the hallowed wall
Knowing now, knowing how I’d like to watch them fall
Line up and take their licks that I refuse to give
Living all retention grasped, not a way to live
I smile a while and spout the lies that they expect by now
About how happy I have been about the crap that they would chow
But all is just a state of mind, twirling without rest
I’ve tried so hard, hope to retard the thoughts that once were best
Shifting cloud, crying loud, why was it these cards
Drinking wine, fuck divine, eating up steel shards
“I hoped it would not come to this” emptying dead shells
Reload all our brazen clips and “welcome to our hells!”
Point blank
Intensity of the worst/best kind
Obliterating all everything
It’s for the best
___
Sirens at 8:37 AM
Why do people have to go and get themselves hurt so early in the morning?
A callous hand clutches at my temple
I’m walking somewhere I don’t want to go
Another weekday
I clutch at the side of my head
Hoping somehow to ward the sound away
It likes to stay
Ringing and ricocheting off the walls in my mind
Like a jingle heard too many times, too often, too annoying
It’s the most wonderful
Ly annoying thing, a terrifying mortification of consideration
I won’t anymore
If once more
Just once more
I’ll rampage into that CEO’s office grab him by the head and
Pop
Nothing left to grab at
Better get those clothes cleaned
A little club soda I hear gets out the stains that club made
When you cut down that loud mouthed philistine
He had it coming
Did/n’t he?
I heard he did
Someone whispered through the walls that
“people should keep their insanities to themselves”
It’s a dangerous business, this stepping out of line
Better leave it to the professionals
The Ginsbergs and the Gandhis
The Church and State
The others and their retainers
They all had an air of
Historical superiority about them, they had already been there, done their things made their names
So they can do it again, as many times as I’ve read it done
Forging things with untested, unprofessed, un-proven hands can prove a more difficult affair
I do declare
That I do not know what I’m doing any longer
What the fuck is a poem
Never heard of them
What are words?
But a slapdash arrangement
Lines and curves
Meanings and a misconstruing
Of
“What did he mean/What was he on/How can I get rid of this troubling unknowing as quickly as possible?”
Words, more words
…
The sirens are still ringing
Shut the hell up already, if you’re going to get hurt just go for broke
I’m trying to watch something over here
Not that they care about my problems, their blood isn’t theirs anymore
The earth took it back, they probably miss it
But for how long?
How long do you want to keep?
How long are we doing here?
How
How howl how
Aaaah
Terrific reliving
Relief or terror?
Look left and right, all together this time
I think it’s time
To end this Franken-being
Of an
End
Nothing personal
Strictly fitness
Survival of
People comma we the
I sold my missiles for bottle caps
And bicycles snaps
Leather chaps a chance to prance freely
Be gay without any connotations
Be anything without any connotations
I only hate you for your slavishness
Your gluttony
Your litany
Of consumerist hedonism
Drizzled like chocolate on
Corpse of causality
Mentality is as is
As we all know
What do I have to show
For all the effervescent glow
That ragtime radio-show
It’s been looping for 200 years too few
Someone turn off that radio with the 12 gauge please
___
Think into existence
Speak into creation
If only
If we went backwards then
It would all be possible
The solution to your answer is within the problematic range
This first bar on the graph represents what you’d expect
This second and third and fourth are re-enforcements of what you’d expect (maybe with some correlation, comments on causation) still no great sensation
But watch what happens when we break the pattern
Bar number five is of infinite gravity view it and break your china doll smiles
And bemused brows
Accept the derangement in all of its shifted significance
We wouldn’t want things to get boring now would we?
Here’s a cap-gun, some caps, a bottle of gin and a switch blade
Go distribute the false securities and then when they’re hooked
Cut them off
___
Just for one day I’d like to say how I broke down some walls
I opened my maw and the shadow saw the hate it fails and stalls
I’d tear it around and rip it through and find a place to plant
A ghastly seed, it fed on greed, and tried to face a rant
I’d stand on stilts and shout it out, on how it ought to be
Arrange your life, rip out that strife, and then I’d let you see
How it was I felt for us, how I make my way throughout the day
I like to play and care for this or that, I care for one, my light, my sun
Although I know to share, so many need some care
Although I don’t know where, to give and live
What should I sieve out from that doubt
Which is paramount to life/love/living/death
All that is and should be
___
Futility drives hard against the decadent shell
Knowing now, knowing how all was known too well
I count the time the knife has struck against the hallowed wall
Knowing now, knowing how I’d like to watch them fall
Line up and take their licks that I refuse to give
Living all retention grasped, not a way to live
I smile a while and spout the lies that they expect by now
About how happy I have been about the crap that they would chow
But all is just a state of mind, twirling without rest
I’ve tried so hard, hope to retard the thoughts that once were best
Shifting cloud, crying loud, why was it these cards
Drinking wine, fuck divine, eating up steel shards
“I hoped it would not come to this” emptying dead shells
Reload all our brazen clips and “welcome to our hells!”
Point blank
Intensity of the worst/best kind
Obliterating all everything
It’s for the best
___
Sirens at 8:37 AM
Why do people have to go and get themselves hurt so early in the morning?
A callous hand clutches at my temple
I’m walking somewhere I don’t want to go
Another weekday
I clutch at the side of my head
Hoping somehow to ward the sound away
It likes to stay
Ringing and ricocheting off the walls in my mind
Like a jingle heard too many times, too often, too annoying
It’s the most wonderful
Ly annoying thing, a terrifying mortification of consideration
I won’t anymore
If once more
Just once more
I’ll rampage into that CEO’s office grab him by the head and
Pop
Nothing left to grab at
Better get those clothes cleaned
A little club soda I hear gets out the stains that club made
When you cut down that loud mouthed philistine
He had it coming
Did/n’t he?
I heard he did
Someone whispered through the walls that
“people should keep their insanities to themselves”
It’s a dangerous business, this stepping out of line
Better leave it to the professionals
The Ginsbergs and the Gandhis
The Church and State
The others and their retainers
They all had an air of
Historical superiority about them, they had already been there, done their things made their names
So they can do it again, as many times as I’ve read it done
Forging things with untested, unprofessed, un-proven hands can prove a more difficult affair
I do declare
That I do not know what I’m doing any longer
What the fuck is a poem
Never heard of them
What are words?
But a slapdash arrangement
Lines and curves
Meanings and a misconstruing
Of
“What did he mean/What was he on/How can I get rid of this troubling unknowing as quickly as possible?”
Words, more words
…
The sirens are still ringing
Shut the hell up already, if you’re going to get hurt just go for broke
I’m trying to watch something over here
Not that they care about my problems, their blood isn’t theirs anymore
The earth took it back, they probably miss it
But for how long?
How long do you want to keep?
How long are we doing here?
How
How howl how
Aaaah
Terrific reliving
Relief or terror?
Look left and right, all together this time
I think it’s time
To end this Franken-being
Of an
End
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
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
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
Thursday, February 12, 2009
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
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
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
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
______
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
______
Sunday, February 8, 2009
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
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
Friday, February 6, 2009
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
____
_____
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
____
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
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”
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
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
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
Sunday, February 1, 2009
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.
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.
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