Trust. Hah.

Cavemen invented dusk.
Owls invented midnight.
Fawns invented the dawn,
and C.S. Lewis brought the fawn to life.
You bring to life my face.
Thoughts drift and break
Wafting as a crumpled leaf
Falling ever so slightly toward my bare feet
Landing and kissing the earth.
Rumbling in agreement she roars
A bestial chorus
Stampeding my ears with nature
Overrun with beauty, power, and constellation.
Your eyes sparkle, no, twinkle
Begging me with a cunning wink.
My feet move without prompting
Unable to regress, only digress
Pushing mud between my toes
Sliding toward destiny
Your arms dance and pivot.
Beckoning me. Bringing me close.
At this point flat on my back.
The distance between us diminishes.
As your hand grabs ahold.
Pulls me in.
I catch a glimpse of your eyes.
Two different colors. Strange.
I hug you tight and grasp your back.
The dagger plunges into mine.
I invented our love.
And you will invent my demise.

nobody reads this anyway

going on a temporary writing hiatus while I finish out this semester. If anyone cares. Let me know, I'll write more.

The taste of sparrow.

Cackle young bird.
Laugh at me from your high spot.
If I was taller, by only two measly feet--
your straw nest would stand ablaze.
I'll cackle at you bird.
At the wings you can't use yet.
Snuff it out with those flammable feathers you wear.
I dare you.
Jump and soar before it's meant,
or jump and die forgotten on this very sidewalk,
or sit and burn.
Sit and hope.
And wish.
And wait. To no avail.
On tail the fire catches.
Sulphur matches coat made free.
Burn.
and Burn.
and Burn.
So jump.
Catch my hand with trust and fate.
Cackle again.
CACKLE.
I dare you.
Seriously.
I dare you.
You're simply lucky I'm not two feet taller.
Or your nest would be engulfed,
and you would have to trust--
me. Your target. Your enemy. My second chance.

Hah.

Consider what is ultimately real.
Not time or body or God.
maybe god.
There is evil, therefor good.
They coexist.
Without one there is no other.
Good is evil because good creates evil
and without evil there is no good.
So evil is good and brings such.
Complex paradox of intimately infinite proportions.
Speak to me.
Show me both and the same.
without an understanding how do you prove
you are the other.
Being is a state.
and without being there is no god or God
While some people believe there is no being without God.
I am god.
Not God.
God god Good good evil is evil
Brings forth the prior.
He flooded the land to kill evil with evil
He judged and picked one to judge.
Picked evil to spy evil to bring good.
Internally we and I do the same
I write my scripture to believe.
What I wrote is right and wrong
and in the middle
we become complete.

Kokopelli's Rebirth

on whim,
but flute is all he's ever known
and with hair his cover blown.
Cut it,
Stand up straight and tall
Here's a tux.
Begin life anew.
Way, path, price.
Dreaming of the 21st century
from a pre-settled perspective.

Malignancy

Benign. What a silly word.
The feeling of blah.
The way I can't pick where to eat when prompted.
Talking like a baby is benign
Washing your hands is benign
Knowing how to spell a word the same every time.
Care not.
Worry not.
Benign means tomorrow will still come.
Benign is elusive and savage.
Carefully plucking a leaf off the rose
One-by-One
One for all.
Survivor. Fighter.
My mental Kaleshnokov fires
The wound benign.
Imaginary bullets
meet imaginary chest and
rupture imaginary hearts,
Which lead to imaginary deaths.
Of the ego, the id, the pride.
Modest now.
So humble.
I'll just sit and think it over.
So benign.

Garden Variety

I miss being able to use the teeter-totter.
see-saw.
Too big, too tall, too fat, too heavy;
Nope, they're too small
My feet plant and push
They fly.
Outer bounds of the playground
hold their rag-doll body--
mid-air
The point of no movement
before you must come down
momentum and movement
is defeated momentarily
Constricted, twisting, defying
Pirouette off the stage, and
Hold your roses in hand.
Lay down.
Close the lid.
and Bury yourself 6 feet beneath the Earth
I sit on the see-saw silently
Butt pressed to sand
Friend flew to Heaven
as a rabbit chasing a carrot into a salad shooter.

Pieces of Rome

In listening in
even to assemble
They were obsessive about

There was no intrusion
They were men too.

Let's put on a show alright
then I saw myself on TV

I'd rather not.

probably a long day
I thought I knew where it was,
Is this Channel 15?

No...

This is Channel 7.

I love working with feminists
We've got a lot of work to do

give me 3 minutes, okay?

I don't want to be famous.
It's me and the poem

ahem. cough.

The world is filled with stories.
Find the right place.


(I put this together from completely out of context statements from one of my teachers and I liked it a lot. Let me know what you think.)

A 13th St. Genesis

Until that moment I knew not force
nor haste, nor Heaven
The bedlam now complete

I sit and wait.

This refugee camp -- this haven
paraplegic and segmented
A snake to be carried off

piece by piece by

buzzards and ants and vultures
The cat-call echoes
to predator and prey
The carrion feeds
Helplessly fertile,
The litmus taste falsetto.

Still I don't speak
nor mutter
Had I wished to,
it would hardly be a conversation
Simply, an urgent need to be to
Watch as my body becomes smaller

a clean tear;
No feeling or reaction

We'll clutch the earth
hear its heavy breath
My nerves become roots
I no longer cower in the shade
The sun beats down
and I return to dust.

Some food for thought
a grape
I'm caught.
Don't steal bananas.
They hate that.
Trust me.

The matter is irrelevant
either way it will rot.

Stuck in your pocket
I forgot that I left my cigarettes in there.
Ruined they are
until tomorrow when my pants are washed
and they are replaced.

what is convention?
confection

a cake topping.
or topper.

Flowers made of sugar.
My Candyland.
NO PANCAKES ALLOWED.
syrup too.
Fantastic.

i Approve.

Mr Fix it versus Mr Bucket.
Fuck it.

they both suck.

well.

one blows.

Captain crunch breathes diversity.
He needs a slogan
Limerick
Shamrock

you Know WHO i speak of.

if not.

Meet my fleet of attack owls.
They're more loyal than falcons.

Tuck in.
sleep tight.
fight the light dark knight.
night.

Holy Diver

(so i can't get this formatting this to work, but there are a bunch of crazy and wonderful line-breaks)

Ambient
Folds of reality
Noise behind
My head Behind
My ear-
Drum.
Tap
Tap
Tapping.
On my window
Pane?
Pain?
Paid for,
Pre-eminently
Perforated.
My Equilibrium
slides
further
and further
in two
Behind my eyes
that spot
Between
balance and brilliance
Between
Better and Best
Beyond the
sky, Before space
Between
my carpet and box-spring

When I see a vision
of a
Flash
Light
As my father and
save yourself.

I can't hear the grandfather clock
anymore, furthermore
I promised I wouldn't stay
down there
that long, but
the water is
cool, The only place I
hear the Cadence,
no more

pop.

Herman Trelle vs. Dan Williams

a box of springs

opening to a roll of paper

clashed with the notion of hurriedness

hiding something untold and undoing

centered to the extremities held so dearly

flashing colors of nostalgia

red

white

black

blue

this old town never held this box

filled with many a tear and woe

it once held straw

fed to a beast

forged with whip and booming voice

a tame and gasping yelp

despair so close that it grips the throat

leaves hand and hooves quivering

pace by pace weakening the knees

a slave or tool

of animal or being

worn down joints melding with tattered cloak

the man

the beast

one flesh

two beats

both beast

one kind

one tempered

the simple mind

turns and yields a process of progress

the end of the day comes

a field sowed then gleaned

agricultural circles

closed in this box

passed and buried behind



(KEEP IN MIND I WROTE THIS A LONG TIME AGO!! just found it.. *shrug*)
( I need help with line breaks, etc)

needed update.

After work I'll probably update this since I have a piece due Tuesday and.. well.. I just haven't been keeping up with this like i should.

Anatomy

Of love and limbs
From tip to toe
Beating rhythmically
To a slow exhale
Free to breathe
And free to see
Rods and cones mingle
A lover's dance instantly
A kiss defined biologically
Curves felt ergonomically
Eyes cracked partially
Vibrant blue explosions
Meet a simple brown reflection
A Kaleidoscopic meeting
Of tense minds and deaf ears
With similar intention
But slight variation
Epidermis pressed
Whisper forgotten Latin
A follicle mess
Between barriers of satin

The acetone smells good today.
Like a new start
Wiping away the paint and dirt
The pungent smell leaves the nose clear and open
A reminder of what it feels like to be a baby
So toxic and freeing
A paradox of simple proportions
Of cigarettes on a playground
Of cops and robbers
As is if a blank canvas looked like the cystine chapel

Because today.. it does

my first attempt at dialogue

He grasped her hand and pulled her up from the pile of dirt she was laying in.

"Hi, my name is Gabriel." he said with a peculiarly grim smile.

"Thanks for the hand, I'm Sasha." she said through a smile equally as foreboding.

Times had been difficult since the comet hit. Mutant creatures eerily reminiscent of those from movies like Dawn of the Dead had been spotted all over the globe since the 29th of January. The scientists said it would only be a 50/50 chance that the comet would hit the Earth, but apparently the math and perceived consequences had been way off.

"So where did you call home?" he said trying to hold some attempt at a conversation.

"Well, I'm originally I'm from California, but I transferred to school here in Arizona right before the incident."

Gabriel stopped.

"You know... had it not been for the comet I would have been finishing up my last semester at Arizona State." he said gritting his teeth and chuckling with a ferocity that his eyes seemed to light up with a fiery red hue.

Noting his madness she realized her error and attempted to salvage this newfound relationship.

"So.. I bet you're wondering why I was in the dirt there, eh?" she said.

"Now that I think of it, why were you?" he said befuddled

"Well, I was with my boyfriend, but we were attacked.."

"BY WHAT?" Gabriel shouted

"Well... I think it was a pack of..."

"ZOMBIES?!"

"Well... maybe?"

Attempting to calm down, Gabriel sat down to process what he had just heard. He noticed a small red stain on her left jacket sleeve just above her elbow.

"What's the blood on your arm from?" he asked in an almost overly peaceful manner

She thought for a second, then said "I think maybe one of them bit me back there, but I think I'll be alright.. I mean.. its not a big deal.."

"I'm sure you're right..." he said, still calm and collected "we better start moving before they catch up to us."

Nodding her head she agreed, "I'd say lets go back for my boyfriend, but who cares.. we were only dating for a couple weeks."

He appreciated her attempt at humor and pushed her forward to start the journey.
Shortly after they started their trek he started to think.. if they are zombies, then how long does she have? The back of his mind began playing scenes from Shaun of the dead and 28 Days Later on a seeming loop. He knew what he had to do.

"I'm sorry." he said with the same calmness as before

"about what?" she said, turning around to see what the apology was directed towards

Gabriel's hand rested on the leather-bound grip of his newly-sharpened machete and all in one motion he unsheathed the weapon and hacked into her skull like a kid recklessly carving a pumpkin on the night of Halloween. Adrenaline rushed through his veins and his heart beat so fast it felt about to burst. After the deed was done he crouched down and caressed the few strands of hair she had left.

"I'm sorry, but the only thing I hate more than sorority chicks are sorority chicks who've been bitten by zombies."

Some stream of consciousness

As I starting point a almost began writing stuff I had already written in my journal, but decided against it. I wonder how different my stream of consciousness is on computer than on paper. Its probably a lot lengthier due to the fact I can type way faster and it doesn't hurt my hand as much. Either way I will try to express my thoughts without anything getting in the way. Today I sat at school for about 5 hours because I was supposed to start work today, but some shit happened and I can't start until Monday. Carpooling kills. Thats kind of funny in a logical way. I mean.. the more people in a car during a car accident, the bigger the possibility of more people dying. That sentence wasn't constructed so well, but who gives a shit.. ITS MY BRAIN! That reminds me of something I always wanted as a kid. I'm not sure why it was so appealing considering I didn't like Jello, but I always wanted a brain-shaped Jello mold. I suppose that would fit into the same vein as creepy crawler machines and easy bake ovens. They should really bring back creepy crawler machines. Those things were honestly the most creative and fun thing to do as a kid. I don't care if the bulb burns my kid. Honestly... it won't kill you unless you confuse it for a rectal thermometer or a pacemaker in which case they should probably put an age limit on the damn thing. Speaking of age limits. I hate old people. Fuck them. I don't know why but every single thing they do pisses me off. Whether its the sound they make when they eat, the way they talk to you in such a condescending manner, or just their seeming lack of common sense, I just can't stand them. Strolling around in their walkers.. complaining any time they can. AHHHH!!!! I know I'm stereotyping, but if we could just cut off their existence at 65 years old I'd be soooo happy! Unless the 65 year old was half man-half dinosaur, then they can live forever and be tested to help improve mankind. I know if I was a pterodactyl I would play tricks on people like swoop their baby up and then set it on a roof or maybe steal people's frisbees mid-toss. If I could transform between a pterodactyl and a human I would probably let a baseball player hire me to catch balls so they call it a home-run. I'd not only be rich, but I'd be a superstar athlete in my own mind. As a pterodactyl it might be hard to swish mouthwash around due to the shape of your mouth. It seems like a mixture of both a mouth and a beak with awesome teeth to rip apart small animals. If I was a t-rex I think I'd go eat shepherds. That way, their sheep could run free over the hills and nobody would really get terrified of me because shepherds generally work in the middle of nowhere. If I lived during the age of the Bible I'd probably have fucked over a lot of religions because I believe a lot of important people were shepherds back in the day. mmm... sheep.

Proof

Its 11:30 pm.
Captivate me.
I want to squeeze your face and see wide eyes.
I want to see a green ring cut into thin sectors and a pupil so small you could squeeze an atom out if the room just gets a bit brighter.
Taste the fruit.
Take the medicine.
Feel your toes curl and your weight cease to matter.
Feel your worries vanish.
Feel your wings flap and your feathers shine.
Feel the black reproduce beneath your lids.
Make your whites disappear and lend the black your wings.
Let the crow go and your torso fall.
Watch the crow as the crow flies; from above.
Chart its course.
Check the time.
In six or seven hours you'll be just fine.
Arizona to Malaysia to Mars.
From mountaintops to crowded rooms with pulsating lights.
Watch the bird get the worm.
See as its mouth opens.
Inside you could find the same bright wide eyes you owned.
Cut into tiny green sectors with a pupil so small your could squeeze an atom out, but this time the room is a little bit brighter out of its own accord.
So you do squeeze the atom out.
You hold it in your hand and watch it blossom into a fledgling planet.
In fact; the same one you're on.
Spin the globe in your hand.
Imitate the sun making its daily course.
God of a planet in your own mind in your own body on the same planet represented in your hands.
Split the water.
Walk through.
Hear it crash behind you.
You are Moses and you are Moses's God.
God of a planet in your own mind.
Formed by past experiences.
Created by synapses.
In your own brain.
Housed in your own thick skull.
Placed at the top of your own weak spine.
Which makes up the central nervous system of your own limp body.
Laying on your own couch.
In your own world.
Made by your own God.
Stand up.
Feel the breeze.
Feel at ease.
Its 6:30am.