Tae Kwon Dwhat the hell? This again?

Too late to write alot, I gotta wake up early for work so I can hold dogs and cats down while Dr's express their anal glands.  Yep thats what I do all day.  8 hours.  Anal glands.
____________________________

DISCIPLINE

Trained in the martial art of stealth.
Displace only air.
Here and gone.
Expectations of a master,
Unwilling to be a student.
"But father before and so on for generations."
"Honor your name."
Grind my nerves
Like an alarm on the third round of snooze.
Time is running out,
You'll be late.
A true expert would know by now,
This heart is yours, you know?
Apathy overwhelming.

*edit* read apathy as "fear".
____________________________

Over my body.

Here it is.

_________________________________

CONSTANT FIGHT

Swept over by a sea of statements.
One million and one,
"You should knows."
Well thought out, half understandings
Of things too important to explain.

There is no real word for love
Or pain.
Heartbreak is best defined at the moment
The heart's flesh tears.

Many wise men have spoken truth
But truth doesn't push.
It is.
Like a standing stone,
Deeper than it stands tall.
A shrine to incite joy, hope,
And fear.
True relief only brings eyes
To let the sea continue
Rolling, regardless of it's inhabitants.
_________________________________

Change. 30 days OMG.

For those of you who actually read this blog, thank you.  And I'm sorry.  I haven't been including large segments before the poems recently because I've been too tired.  I have been having some problems falling asleep, mostly insomnia stuff.  I'm not really looking for suggestions as to how to solve the issue at this point but thanks if you were already whipping a few up worriedly.  I'll start to write more once I get a better handle on my schedule as the last month and a half have been kinda fucked by a large increase in my free time due to my hours at worked getting cut in half.  I had work for awhile doing some carpentry with some guys I know but it hasn't lasted and I have just been bumming through my free time like a lay about.  The long and the short of it is that I have some big important decisions up ahead and I need to start working on them if I'm ever going to do something besides what I'm doing right now.  I'll get there, I'm not worried about that so much as that I'm worried about having some self control when it comes to taking care of my self.  Enough of this.  Motivation will come, and I'm not so bad off right now anyways.  Things could be much worse....  In other news, Today is my one month marker for this little 365 days of poetry project I'm doing.  Thanks alot those of you who have made comments on the posts and have offered feedback in other ways too.  Hopefully the next 11 months will be just as eye opening as this last one has been.  -Cheers.

_____________________________

TAKE SOME, LEAVE SOME

Larvae,
Wriggling, white.
Seemingly vacant.
Ribbed secrets lie below.
Solace, in this world of pus
And dirt, is segmentation.

Unassuming superhero
Embodied by infant insectoid,
Master of the clean break.
Guts spill
And nearly mortal wound agape
New function
Takes half it's place.

The real super-power is in the knowing;
Change came and went.
______________________________

Keep up

I've been thinking alot lately, and I'm pretty sure that when I don't go out of my way to do "stuff" I start to waste away.  When I say stuff I really mean anything.... as simple as extra work to going and hanging out with friends at an inconvenient time.  I don't like slowing down.  I need to consciously try I guess.
___________________________________

KEEP UP

If you can't keep up
Fucking say so.
Don't be alarmed
By sudden steps
Giving way
To falling, rolling down
The sides of an endless hole.

That gravel is my bone.
No difference from me
To what you play at.
Big boy pants hide a little cock.

Good to see you're still fucking everyone
You know with the same
Boring story.

But you know what they say......
___________________________________

Fruitless time

Everyone needs a chance to just be.

__________________________________

FORCEFUL BOREDOM

Force boredom,
Like hunger, drives me
Against being content.
The murky depths
Of this night will outlast
Me.
Soon again it shall be upon me,
Completing it's cycle once more.
No ending, and without
Goal or purpose.
But it is my time.
My fruitless time.
___________________________________

I'll get new genes.

Remember the day in school they taught us all about passive, assertive, and aggressive behaviors?  Sometimes I wonder if more rules and definitions are just going to make life not worth being awake for.  The line, "Just be yourself" gets thrown around alot, but if I were "Just myself" every time I interviewed for a job or didn't want to respond to or interact with my loved ones then I'm pretty sure "Just being myself" will have essentially failed me.  Lets face some hard facts.  You can be yourself.  But you will pay a price.  The real question is, "Am I worth the price?"  Sometimes you just have to do the acceptable thing IF you want a specific outcome, one that is only obtainable through a "Just don't let them see the real you and you'll be ok"  mindset.  This topic really could go anywhere, but I'm really only writing about the idea that in order to be happy with all outcomes you may have to be ready to, "Just change yourself" a little.  Imagine if a baby could just change themself....... that would be sweet.    
_____________________________

I'LL GET NEW GENES

I can hide
But one of you will still find me.
Pull me up and what next?

Dirt turned muddy on a clear day.
It's either my blood
Or your piss.

Sneak attack.

Surprise.
You already know what happens next.

You have a gun.  You know how it works.
Defend yourself.

I can't.  It's not how I was raised.
_______________________________

Defined Desire

As I've grown older dreams seem less and less out of reach and more and more just plain ridiculous.  My dad would probably just tell me that this is how life is; full of disappointing disappointments.  I don't think I can live that way, live that way.  No offense dad, do what you do brah.  I require careful outlet management.... aka I'm emotionally high maintenance.  So sorry Katie......  Soon I get better.

I'm pretty sure I need to find a job that lets me exercise my creativity; I understand that every job has shit parts.  I know I won't be happy 100% of the time but I can ask for a cool 75% 25% can't I?  Some of you negative a-holes would say, "Steve, he's so disconnected from the real world. Blah blah... Lets go eat scones."  Yeah, you sconey fuckers know who you are.  And some of you are wondering, "Geez 26 and still hasn't gone a day past 18." But you're all fucking wrong, I was born in 83' and I'm definitely not 18.  I have official documents to set my affairs in order and everyone knows you stop growing pubic hair after you're like 17 anyways so don't try to pull that shit on me again, Dave.

I will make the most of this life.  I will make the most of me.  And maybe all that is me is playing magic the gathering on the pro circuit..... but it probably isn't.
________________________________

DEFINED DESIRE

I used to fly ceremoniously
With wax wings of Icarus.
Daring the son's reach.

Preemptive goliath hands
Wringing fear from broken body
Caught thoughtlessly.
A false ride on a fabricated truth.
Ending deep within the belly of the beast.

Scathed by tooth and tongue alike,
Fear of mouthy spawn
Arrives to freeze and paralyze
My gift.

My course shall be my guardian.
Warcry aloud, to send scattered trixies off,
By defined desire.
___________________________________

Purple is my favorite.

I'm way too tired to write something awesome.  So here's a link to something awesome.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fDyS2AMjius&feature=related

Most of you have probably seen this shit.  But I have been watching it for like 2 years.  SO enjoy it again you whiny fucks.  I'm sorry.  I didn't mean that last bit.  But seriously this video is a guaranteed smile. 

__________________________

PURPLE IS MY FAVORITE

I'm loaded ink

This pens my link

To color coded cares.

All reds, no green

It feels too mean

To keep up troubled airs.

See purple is my favorite color,

Blue with shades of reddish lover.

This melancholy dream discovers

My inconsistency.

Grey as the moon, a far off boon

No eye conceives what's seen.

But left in place, black with disgrace,

That darkness beckons me.

Come hide inside my loamy breast

And Shield your mole-like eyes.

Fall deep asleep, drink deep this rest,

And I'll set straight these lies.

Belief is queer in nature son

Some have but still don't see

Your patron saint could spot you some

But would rather sooner leave.

Your golden armor bent and worn,

Worn out as if by thieves. 

A penny earned is a penny............. 

earned.

As simples as a flame does burn

And for each other new lovers yearn, albeit cautiously.

So wind your way from white to grey

And back to blackened ink.

Perhaps its blue, if the mood suits you.

More importantly, stop and think.

Whatever you write, whatever you see,

The color's the same and will always be.

What flows from you won't flow from me.

Perception "plays" servant to the masterly.

________________________________________

Wrong size.

Human sacrifice is still out there.  Sometimes it happens and there isn't even any blood.  Have you ever met someone who loved to commit social suicide?  Yeah.... I know.  You can stop shaking your head now.  The saddest thing about social suicide is that it rarely gets the intended point across.  It usually only leaves the one committing the act looking like an unstable twit, unaware of the people around them.  It's almost funny how selfish it comes across.  Oh shit can you tell I like watching people do this?  Well I'm going to stop writing before further evidence that I'm a rotten guy pops out.  Oh by the way, I'm a huge fan of the "slow poisoning by death" style of social suicide, but I'm definitely not the kind of person to do something like that....    I seem like a expert on matters of social suicide?  I don't like that question.. I don't like you either... are you trying to say that there is SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME?!?!  Sorry.  That was just a test.  Just a test.  It's really all it was.  Now read this poem.  It's definitely about no one you know.
_______________________


WRONG SIZE

Helplessly bleeding out,
Relentlessly.
No one here can help.

This fountain of life
Only leads to your death.
A death of your own accord.
But an onlooker's doubt
At assumed selfish morbidity
Will solve nothing.
In reverse, there is still no guarantee.

Hours of quiet,
Painful, preparation
Went into assuring captivation
Of the same little, "Unluckies".
They bear witness
For the thousandth time.
This confused consciousness,
A sort of attemptless attempt
At an already obvious problem.

The lid to your jar is too large.
________________________________

DKP

This one's for all my homies, this one is for you.  You know who you are.

_______________________________

DKP

I can't explain joy,
That is mine.
Unprecipitated salt
Exceeds fleshy boundaries
Over this.

My pride and joy.

The ability to quit
What seemed like,
The only hope
At the time,
Took an unleashed will.
Letting go of my closest forsaken,
Bandage me please!

It was there all along.

Road signs don't grow like trees.
They grow like books,
In the hands of an author
That steers and directs
To purposeful, point and placement.

So with a broken heart,
That seems absolutely unnecessary to you,
I really.
I really, really mean it
When I say,
"I finally absolve my DKP."
_______________________________________

Circular.

Katie and I stayed up way too late after work rearranging the furniture.  Sometimes you just need a change.    My dog Boozer on the other hand is distressed.  He worries alot.  The moment we started moving the couch he went to a dark room with his blanket and left us to our commotion.  Well I'm really tired so here it is....

_____________________

TALK IT CIRCLES

Blue sky,
Black eye.
Who hates
That guy?
We do.
Me too.
Cause I know what
He's goin' through.
Big tears
Will flow.
Follow
That road.
Don't brag,
Just boast
When you lose
The most.
Time won't
Wait now
Or stop for
One round.
You better
Skip town.
This ain't your
Sovereign ground.
Fight me
It's fright'ning
But my death's
Enlight'ning.
You know you
Just might bring
The tool to
Unwrite me.
___________________________

Californian power shortage

I've done alot of really stupid shit and I'm only 26.  Seriously, some of it is really stupid.  I'm no dummy but seemingly desperate situations have done things to me even my own mother wouldn't want to hear about.  And if you know my mom she wants to know.... well sometimes.  Fucking sometimes.  Everything has a sometimes.  If everything doesn't have sometimes I heard he starts merc-ing bitches so lets make a point of not changing that mmkay?  Must be some sort of separation anxiety or perhaps the universe itself will cease to exist if everything in it doesn't have a chance to change or variate from it's common route.  Oh shit.  See what I did there?  Wow.  I think I'm turned on.  Sorry I'm thinking of the microwaveable eggrolls in my freezer again.  MMMMMMM.... Mechanically seperated chicken parts..... with soy protein additives....

P.S. Thx Dave Stintzi for the inspiration for today's piece.

____________________________________

CALIFORNIAN POWER SHORTAGE

Octagon, hexagon, polygon, penta
Gone.

I have a pixelated persona
For viewing pleasure.
Intentionality made it so.

Be careful of what you wish for...

Desperation is like a pre-paid cell phone plan.

Silent subterfuge sounded good
But was just repetitive
And redundant.
All for the sake of
This mark to market appraisal
Of the belief
Of me.

"Olly, Olly, Olly oxen free!"

"Fuck.  I never beat that guy.
No one invite him over again.
What's his name?"

"What do you mean
This is his house?"
________________________________

MA.

Seriously?  I don't get it America.....  We are one of the VERY FEW developed nations without a national health care program.  I'm fucking tired of these self interested motherfuckers running our country.  I don't give a shit if you're a republican or a democrat; the bill that will now be trashed was very reasonable.  But why will it get trashed?  Oh yeah I remember..... it's because here in America no one could really give a fuck about affordable healthcare for young, poor families.  "You mean I, a fortunate citizen, with a job and income of my own will have to pay more money to ultimately change the lives of people without the aforementioned that I don't know?  I like helping people..... wait, wait, wait.  What's the catch Uncle Sam? I have to help pay for it?  You mean there is need right here in America that I could help with?  Really?  Ah fuck it.  Sounds like too much money, I've been saving up for a new big screen anyways and little timmy can go without his insulin for a few weeks till his mom finds a new job right?"  Just look at this graph from National Geographic last month.  We have a problem.  This is serious.  If you don't care because you've had healthcare all your life or your support system, ie friends and family, have enough money to pay medical services out of pocket please try to think outside of yourself for a moment.  Many families in our country make less than $30,000 a year (before taxes!), notice I said families that means more than one person.  That means $2,500 a month, $625.00 a week.  The average urgent care bill floats around $350.00.  Thats more than half a weeks pay, this sort of shit is devastating to families with children that have medical needs.  I'll stop here.   http://blogs.ngm.com/.a/6a00e0098226918833012876674340970c-800wi

Now for something completely different.

_______________________________

IT'S MINE

My portion is enormous.
Unmatched.
Chest ache and heart
A Flutter.

It's these between times
That I love you so much.
Without room to spare
You still excite the cold bones.

Combustion of hot powder
And liquid.
Spontaneous.

The time off matters
More than what we believe.
Willingness for love
Today
Makes me love you
Before the thought.
_______________________________

Broken lips auce.

2 poems tonight for you junkies!  One came.....  and then the second came.  Like surprise twins.  I call it a double pop.  Well maybe just a double poem.  Or maybe just twin poems, OH DUELING POEMS!  Definitely dueling poems.  It's settled.  Dueling poems it is.  So please enjoy the duel.
____________________________

SPEECH THERAPY

Broken language
Is the beginning.
Will you stay
At length?

New speech
Is the glorious boon
Of the Coming.

Decision to develop
Heart and tongue
To feel and speak
Of love,
Where fear
Once smoldered.

A child speaks.
Assumptions are made.
Time passes and different thoughts evoke.

Has new speech been implemented?

A dying artist has drawn circles
Around assumptions
Turned truths
By the mind's eye.
Colorless and shadowed they are.

Better for release...

To lidless sleep.
_____________________________________

SPIRITUAL LIPS

Spiritual lips
To pass spirits betwixt.
The sweetest, most alluring mixture
To ever fill me.

Threads of pure
Coagulated life,
Enough to chew.

Sweeter than this cane,
Is the solution.
______________________________________

Full of it.

I love my wife.  I'm not always great at showing it all the time, but I'm pretty good most of the time.  Insecurity slowly creeps into every relationship and when it come down to it your ability to work with, not necessarily against, one another's, and most importantly, your own insecurities is more often than not the deal maker/breaker.  There's a nasty little part of me that agrees to become more willing to be offended by criticism or off handed comments the more intimate I become with that person.  I guess I think there is more at risk, so I get scared?  How fucked is that?  Really fucked.  Oh shit I think these are called "Daddy problems".  I've got to go call my da... someone...... seriously not my dad tho.  That excuse is played out, see january 10th's entry titled, "OMG WTF WWJD for more info.  K THX BAI.
________________________

FULL OF IT

I once believed
I was was an artisan
Of love.

None could compare
None were truly worthy,
Least of all,
The artist.

Once color had become inverted,
My heart sank.
The sharp bite of life's lesson:
Not everything works out
For you.

A prince in the land of nowheres.
Fooled by one's own fear
Of being irrelevant.

If my love wasn't the answer
What is?

Yours.
_______________________________

Stop the start

The satisfaction of using a chainsaw is pretty awesome.  Something about watching the wood eviscerate is just really fascinating.  I don't know if there is anything else like that.... If you think of something please post and let me know.  I really like that feeling.  I think I might go grate all the cheese in the house as it is too late to fire up ole' chainy.  Good night.

______________________________

STOP THE START

Tilling the soil
Has left me ill.
A gray, inflamed, annoyance.

This face was drawn
By familiar fingers,
Characteristics created
By disdain for dirt.

A hungering to end the blame game.

Key in your belly,
Swallowed long ago
Like some ignorant guard
Of some fairy-tale beast.

Sad prisoner
Knows nothing
Of your language,
Terribly confused
By a seemingly odd choice in diet.

Buried truth and caged bird
Sing softly at once.
_________________________________

Stroke.

These pieces I write are more often than not attempts to grasp at my own strength.  I write in order to feel myself a little better, feel my pain better, feel my anger better, feel my happiness better.  Acceptance of myself is the goal, a re-joining of what I've forced apart.  Fear has been my most common weapon against myself and by exploring my less socially acceptable parts I'm a little more able to fight back my typical urges to throw myself out with the bath water.  Don't get too worried here folks.... all I'm saying is that for me to feel like a productive adult I need healthy self-evaluation.  I'm not at risk, I'm at a point in my life where I feel I can really make a difference in the quality of the rest of my life through some healthy (critical) introspection.  Thanks for the emails though.  Just read mah shit and enjoy, I not gunna off myself.  And if you would like to comment on something you read please do so in the comment boxes below each entry so that our little community can join the convo.  K THX BAI.

_______________________________

STROKE

There.
Wings unclaimed.
Come.
Stand where the last had fallen.

Mind and mythic mana
Incorporate grace
Into bone and sinew.
Nerves will come.

Flight spurred by
New cells.
My divine cancer,
Forcing movement from absence.

The memories undead,
Reason to awaken
From self patronizing stroke.
____________________________________

2 Weeks down.

2 Weeks down.  This is alot harder than I thought it would be.  Sometimes I forget to post  until right before I need to go to bed and that is a serious pain in my ass.  In other news, I had 3 separate phone conversations today with 3 totally different people in which I think I hung up on each person while they were trying to say something post- goodbye.  Attention people who talk to me on the phone:  I'm gone once you say, "Goodbye", "See Ya", "Peace", or any other variation of the aforementioned.  Here is what I got for you today.

_______________________________

LESSONS OF DEAFNESS

Lesson and deafen-
-Ing roar with a yelp.
The little,
Scared and scurried.

Come around here and I'll give you the belt.
I'll make our hurried story seem blurry.
I never agreed to your help.

When little is overcome
By whats left
He won't matter.
Ear scabbed over and scars
To blame.
Pushed and pulled
Too fast, driven by a maddened helmsman,
Past his reality,
Practiced poorly.

Breath on pane of glass, separating synapse from one thought.
Which could save a life?.
_________________________________________________

When

Mines.

I used to hate poetry and lyrics until I was asked to be part of this weekly writing group by a friend.  It's less of a writing group and more of a really nice place to hangout, plus a whole lot more.  So anyways,  I never really thought much about written art before about 4-5 months ago.  It really has opened my eyes to an important side of myself; I used to think I was best at communicating vocally, like as a speaker.  Now I really feel I could show up confidently in either venue, I've been thinking alot about trying to get out there into the performing arts world and just let everything flow, just see what happens.  I'm talking poetry slams, theatre, music, drawing, stand up, cartooning, voice acting, you name it I probably want to try it.  But, then there is the issue of being scared of all that......  There's that voice in the back of my head telling me to stop being what I am and start being a "legitimate" working person.  Confusion ensues, like literally this second.  Welp here is the work for today.
_________________________

MORE BETTER

I don't make no sense.
It don't make no sense.

Can't get no money off it.
Can't get no fame by it.
And it don't mean much to many people.

I   t don't make no sense.
But it mean so much to me.

It just do.

Somtimes the more simpler
The more better.
_____________________________________

Convince me again.

Randoms:

Journeys are always long and they usually require alot of work.  I used to have a half life, now I have a three quarters life; this is my journey.  It is both long and full of work.

Sometimes I just wanna shake myself.  Wake up, you're doing that thing again.  Yeah that thing again.  You know the one where you cram all your ideas onto a viking ship and you send them all to the halls of your forefathers..... and yada yada yada.

If I were a jedi I would definitely find as many alternate uses for my lightsaber as possible.  Slice of bread for my grilly cheese?  No problem.  Whamo, and it's already toasted.  I can taste the resonance crystals now.  I hope someone gets that last part.

If I had a robot I would never do anything I didn't want to.  What else is a robot good for?  And what is with these single purpose robots?  Roomba?  How about a Workba?  Tired of working?  Well we have the thing for you!  Workba Inc. is not responsible for any super shady work the Workba robot may or may not do.  Use of this product may result in: Extreme Laziness, Excessive Eating, and an increase in sexual appetite for robots.  (Dear present and future employers please remember that this blog is actually written by an anonymous, angry dwarf with no relation, but does bear a striking resemblance, to Stephen Ewing and in no way affects his work / hiring process.)
 
_________________________
CONVINCE ME AGAIN

The resistance has returned.
Now half lingering
As an ever present memory
Of a slippery choice.

Transit between head, mouth, and belief
Have me aching
Over an ache long gone.

Ghostly footprints,
An ethereal branding,
Visible only to their creator.

Who knew heavy feet and burnt flesh
Would disrupt intelligent determination?

To strike the primal is simply a weakness in itself.

_____________________________________________

I'll post more later tonight.

Slight of hand.

Most days I wake up, drink some coffee, spam my blog's url on twitter and facebook, check the weather, 2nd round of coffee, spam again, and finally shower.  Except today.  This article http://voices.washingtonpost.com/44/2010/01/palin-signs-on-with-fox-news.html was on my news feed via facebook from one of my friends.  Talk about devastation.  What has Fox come to?  Apparently fox is trying to really reach out more to the um..... white demographic here in our wonderful country.  Tonight's starting line up........ middle aged white people who are slightly coded racists! WEEE!  I'm totally speechless.  Just kidding, I haven't read her book yet but I heard... oh wait I forgot YOU CAN'T READ COLORING BOOKS!  Fuck our media culture; I would never leap at the chance to exploit honest Americans with my assertive good looks and flashy up do's.  Seriously, what is she going to talk about?  She's so confused about politics she married a democrat that recreates like a republican.  You know they say marriage is about compromise.....  "OK Todd, you can invite our Inuit neighbors over for dinner but the second they leave you better jump on your snowmobile and wash that stink of whale blubber off you with exhaust fumes!"  I've got a great idea.  Lets tie Mrs. Palin and Glen Beck together and send em' over Ole' Niagra just to make sure they didn't sell their souls to the devil.  If they survive then they will have truly earned my trust.    CANADA OR BUST 10'

_________________________________

SLIGHT OF HAND

Curious strings.
Floating Masquerade.
All is slight of hand.

A wooden boy with painted smile,
No other option to explore.
A soul wouldn't make the difference.

These physics are exaggerated
And contrived.

Understanding in a finger.
That meant everything to me.
___________________________________

I hope the romance is dead.

If you're a martyr, you're probably really stupid and if you're a martyr when it comes to matters of yourself then you're probably really fucking stupid.  I'm not talking suicide here folks..... I'm talking about a slow painful life of death, because you feel you've been wronged.  What's that you ask?  My inspiration for the above statement?  Someone I really dislike you say?  Haha, no no.... it really doesn't matter.  It really could be about anyone.  But whoever you are you know who it's REALLY about.  You know who you are.  Oh shit I think he's talking about me.  Yeah I definitely am.  By the way you are fucking dumb.  Did that help you feel less dumb or more dumb?  Geez I'm sorry what I meant to say is that you're not good at anything..... Oh crap I just blew my cover.

_____________________________

OMG. WTF. WWJD.

You play at being justified
By claiming ignorance
To daddy's game.
Thats a soapbox I want nothing to do with.

I can hear you getting fatter,
Lazier with every excuse.
You don't deserve it,
No one does.
But you still get it.
You still get to dictate meaning,
Your half-witted beliefs about the way things is.

One day we'll be kids again,
Together.
And I'll stand up for you and believe when
No one else does.
Because I know, I really know.


But that isn't today,
It's not even this lifetime.
So live your life now
In hopes of the off chance
That try 2 will turn, lock a dead gaze,
And give you a love for intensity,
That compares to the likes of
Your love of protecting yourself.
  
____________________________________________________

The coordinates to Magrathea.

So me and a couple of friends write rap songs.  Most of them have to do with alien robots, jedi, or some funny idea like people who are hipsters or someone who doesn't believe in cell phones and only uses a pager.  There is also one about us picking up chicks at a night club which, if you know us, is totally ridiculous, not to mention I'm happily married.  Sometimes when I play people this music they get a little confused and look at me like, "I don't know how to tell you, but I'm embarrassed for you Steve."  It baffles me how many people think we are trying to actually be thug.  I'm 5'8, maybe, and like 205 with less pigment than Lord Voldemort I really would have to be out of my mind to think that I could be considered a legitimate rapper on any level just on the basis of my looks alone.  PLUS I just referenced Lord Voldemort in the last sentence.  I guess some people just think novelty is childish.......
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MY COORDINATES

Disappointment is:
My version of your misunderstanding.

I have rooms full of books,
Penned by the unspoken word.
Stacked high like
Holy texts, written in
Red.
Pressed and cured on that
Semi-translucent record.
Perhaps it's that way to allow
Blurred but more accurate
Current events
Creeping behind the red, white and black
Noise.

I'll bring holy offerings of self
To Deep Thought,
The one who knows all.
The screen on the altar is my only hope.

Choking on what I have stopped
I lie at its mercy.

Read me.
Give me the total perspective arm
Read me.
To pump, cock, and stick into my mouth
READ ME!
Pull the trigger and blow my fucking mind out!
REad.....yourself.
To simplify
An already simple
Truth.
Speak your truth.
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I'm pretty confused.

A long conversation into the night has me posting this so late, it's 2:45 am here and man am I tired.  Today has just been a serious failure of many attempts to progress, mostly feeling like being hastily awoken from a  really good nap.  My bad days are the worst when my sub-conscience is cranky.  It's like a kid, or some adults I know, that are dragged out for a day of shopping and forget to eat lunch.  One moment all is well the next you find yourself giving the nearest soccer mom a rimmer for a granola bar just to quiet that fucking kid, or unfortunate adult, down from their low blood sugar shock.  Well if thats not a terrible mental image I don't know what is.  Sorry.  I definitely wasn't talking about your mom by the way.  Heres the goods:

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FALSE SENSE

The confidentiality of
My conscience has been
Compromised.

If You and I know
Then so does We.
I hates when We knows,
We can make Me do things.
Things I doesn't wanna do.

ALRIGHT YOU LITTLE BASTARDS!
I'M COMING IN THERE!

Oh no.
I think it's His.
Last time Me, I and You had a fight
He showed up.
It was terrible.
Me, I and You didn't speak for weeks.

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One week. It's official.... well yesterday.

The feeling of having to drive around on a really snowy night is absolutely not comparable to anything.  Nervously driving and such joy upon arrival at home.... It's even better if there is a nice fire and some blankets to hide under.  Hot cocoa, coffee or tea to warm up and relax into the temporary quiet of a snow storm, except when you have to clear your entire driveway at 1 am.  Some may ask, "Why?"  My answer is simply: You know when you start to do something and you're motivated and then all the sudden it becomes the stupidest decision of the day and you start to feel like an idiot because if you stop now you'll just wake up to a half plowed driveway?  No?  Don't know what it feels like?  Well it feels pretty stupid, like telling a really annoying "friend/co-worker/relative" that you'd love to get together on mondays for scrabble and then continually canceling every monday like 25 minutes before said Scrabble game citing illness as the cause of your absence.  Usually it's something believable like a "migraine" or "I'm on my period".  Obviously the second one is only for chicks.  And trannys.  Heres your poem now get out of here!
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RAIN WON'T DO

The sound of the tiny white fall.
Like gauze wrapped around my ears,
Muffled
Air and twig snap.

Just me and the driveway
Here, ankle deep in this
Anniversary of awakening.
Proud to be the same
And different.
Like squire to court
I have done my master's bidding.

The second coming of these
Refreshing seasons,
Since four years
Withheld messily
Juxtapose what was and what will.

Slack lining just isn't something I know how to do.
The shoes were too tight
And soon my feet ran
Numb and clumsy
With footsteps
Not apparent.

I will walk on the ground now
And leave my tracks
In the snow.

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Fighting the inevitable.

I'm as sure that no one has ever reversed the actions of aging as I am that no one ever beat the 72' - 73' UCLA Bruins and that Sarah Palin doesn't have a formal education.  Whatever you've heard isn't true, Boise isn't even a real city.  I've never been there, have you?  Told you.  Doesn't exist.  So why try and fight the inevitable?  I wonder who I'd be if I never had begun arguing with myself about myself.  Perhaps an astronaut, the guest host of Larry King Live, a turtle wrestler , who knows maybe even an agreeable human being.  What ever I could have been sure doesn't matter now, even though I'd really like to wrestle a turtle in space or maybe a chimp.  I bet the chimp would win.  Chimps kinda freak me out.  Sorry, the long and the short of it is that people would like themselves more if they stopped thinking about liking themselves.  Maybe.

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YOU SHOULD BE SOMEBODY

Pink is my statement
The embodiment of what
I think
I lost
Press it on, Press it on!
It'll hold if pressed hard enough.

But ironic purple blotches of
Backless ambition distort
My pink to red
And red to black,
Funneling this process to the
Forcefully forgotten first point
Of determination
To be uncomfortable.

Float out and leave this waterless harbor
By air
Not by land or sea.
Fly into the skies where
You currency is abundant and
Meaningful.
Release the notion of notions

That you should be somebody.

Switch

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SWITCH

This is your net,
It's not mine!
Get it the fuck away from me.

Jesus I'm cold.
Why the fuck did you take my blanket!?

Mee kan bee gooder sumdae.

Feed me that fishing line
And I'll gorge myself
On those bottle caps too.

When I've had my fill of the poison,
And my body returns to soil,
All that will remain is that heaping pile
Of shit
Consumed in vain.
Proof of how powerful
A parent's ignorance can be.

No epitaph or headstone in place
Only proof of the blind slave
Wandering into darker worlds
In search of a new switch.
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I really have to be careful about what I internalize; I have a nasty habit of listening too carefully and then basing my life around illegitimate thoughts from people I can't even remember.  Hey now.  I never said I was smart....... only that I was smarter than the people that said that shit about me.  (Actually I am smart.... you a-holes.)  All joking aside I believe that most of us are our own worst enemies lavishing ourselves with new ways to poke holes through our hopes and dreams.  Even the most stable characters doubt themselves sometimes.  The poem above was inspired by a photograph of a dead albatross chick.  Cheers!

The Trash Menagerie

Mondays are very long days.... I leave my house at about 8:45 AM and don't get home until around midnight.  So needless to say my commentary will be short tonight.  Spoke with a friend tonight at length about some issues we have had in the past year with one another and it seems like a hopeful situation, so thats nice.  Also my wife took some pictures of me cradling our dog, boozer, like a baby and it was very funny.  I don't think Boozy was so keen on it but I'm sure he'll forgive me, or maybe kill me in my sleep tonight.  (Those who know Boozer know that he's a bit weird kinda paranoid, kinda manic.)  Anyways, heres the juice.

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THE TRASH MENAGERIE

I got a room full of this shit.
Tinker toys and refrigerator boxes.

These pieces of me left prematurely,
Like children on the first day
Of kindergarten.

Soft bodied dreams of joy and energy
Floating into open sky
Like balloons catching the wind.

I loved to sleep on assumptions
Of safe flight and wild, adventurous
Success,
But teenage ambition soon gave way
To self realization.

Those black gates swung open and what seemed
Like the waiting of one hundred years
Gone by
Laid upon sleepy,
Half-thought through attempts at
Summiting whiz hill.
Versions of half-aborted dreams that were
Still
Only in dreams.

There is more than just me in here.

Fairly often, I feel like there are a few versions of me stuck fighting one another in my already cramped body.  Usually it's the part of me that wants to experience life Vs. the part of me that wants to experience ruining my day over and over and over again.... haha.  I've had a good life so far and I'd like to acknowledge that it really hasn't been that hard.  In other news, I was at Costco today and I bought a rice cooker.  It is fucking tight.  The end.  I also bought a giant thing of shampoo.  Now it's time for poetry.

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WHAT WAS IT?

Lazy eyes and face pour out
To fill "The Nothing Bowl"
So determined
Straining to not strain.

There is a lid on this cup.
Pressed edge for airlocked love.

A sort of weeping without speech
Or audible sound,
Behind glass
Needlessly drowned out by the
Constant whining, death rattle
Of a weak soul
Long acquainted but hardly known.

Projection is the fear of my fear.
Typical tapestries woven
Of old metaphors
Allowing for the possibility
Of a new drug:
Illusion
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361/365  k thx bai.

Wirey nests.

Day 3 has been interesting..... Spent the day nerding out with friends playing games and watching bowl games.  We went to Whole Foods to grab some beer and holy shit, beer has apparently become a semi-precious liquid since last time I was at the grocery store.  It was like all my favorite beers suddenly were 30% more expensive and hadn't changed in size or quantity.  Luckily, I found a rogue case of PBR hiding abashedly behind some Widmer in a corner obviously trying to lay low and keep out of sight.  Needless to say my friends and I imbibed, and it was........ mediocre.  I wrote the poem for today in a parking lot tonight, as I hadn't been home since around 1pm, and sitting in my freezing car I wondered if I would ever get inspired.  So here it is...

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Wirey Nests

You can enhance my circuitry

For maximum flow

And store my senses in the

Blue cold.

Speed is more important

Than our friction.

Control is the enemy

Of our would be sparks,

Flights of love and bewilderment

Chilled to keep levels

Manageable.

My brittle bones of

Green and iron

Soldered soft

Will run a mathematician's maze

To hopefully win out

Against shifty, suckered,

Too bad odds.

With luck to be removed

From dewy housing

And to draw blood from a careless handler.

Only my resistors matter.

Small strongholds of languid safety

Tantalizing to twist and pluck

From wirey nests

That matter the most

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362/365 get it.              

Happy New Year!

I don't understand why new years day/eve is such a big deal... I think people really love the idea that they can change everything in their lives by doing nothing.  When you write that last statement out it really sounds stupid.  "Thanks alot captain obvious."  "I forgot that when things don't happen they don't really happen."  I know profound huh?  Before people start leaving me posts to invite me to their local MENSA hangout spots please seriously consider why the fuck you celebrate this seemingly worthless (other than to get real drunk and get some strange ass) holiday.  Maybe I'm just like the new years scrooge and some day some dead friends of mine will come back from the grave to harass me; implanting themselves as door knobs on my front door just to scare the shit out of me...... and change my heart about the holiday.  I Dunno...  I think people may just really like getting strange ass.  This sounds like a holiday my dog Boozer would love.

So heres my work for today:

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BACK AND FORTH

Is it a numbers fight?  Born to breed?

Birth to win?

Stacked high and consumed quickly

Its cotton to the flame.

Small bursts of hatred combust like rocket fuel

In my neck

Lasting but a second

Vacating to leave a drained consciousness

Almost too perfectly planned to keep me

Half sleepily awake

As to not alarm worries

Of wanton measures

Here because they are easy.

Every time I squeak out one Angel

Six demons arrive.

Chitinous limbs and teeth

Gnaw away at Beauty's thoughtless flight

To fall to dismemberment

A losing of one's self.

A return to my sleepily awakened state

Hoping for that cold burst of white

To remind him

Of what is true.

363/365 wahoo.