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Showing posts from December, 2015

Do not Text and Drive a Starship

I think, we share something.
A sense of nothingness

I think we both understand
the courage of light in dark
and the transformation
of man

The guild
that flies between the stars


Must be from they
whose heart
beats thousands of years

There is no other way
than to cut out your own
and replace it

And we would find our way to them
like a man
slowly gone mad

Ocean in his blood
Red the sky above

The vast spaceship travelling through the dark

I think
we share something


An ability to transform opium
An ability to mete punishment
The way of the guild


I think we understand
the helplessness of life
the hopelessness of flesh

And we both will trade
the part of us
which will not die.

For a part that lives on.

A part that
carries us to a new home

Tree of Life

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I am a woman

In her phone.

I ring up as her massage therapist.

I like being a woman there.

I like girl talk.

I like asking how is her husband?

Just between us girls.

Sofi Needs A Ladder

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I am so fucked up

I am so fucked up.

That is the poem.
Seriously.

I'm totally wasted.
God it feels so good.

What's my name again?
Seriously.
I can't even say my fucking name.

So you're heading out to Colorado.
Warehouses, huh?


Fuck you man.
Pass it.


I'm so completely fucked up.

I love it.

Wish You Were Here

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This is you

This is you
this is me

Here we are

Winter Trees - The Staves

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Fat Angel

Your eyes are soft in the dark
Your hair a bright
dirty blonde

Your skin glows in the light
Your breasts round

I hold you in the dark and you say it feels right.
But your husband is away.

And we were so blind.
Together.

I walked across the camera line
a black jacket against a black fence against time

And we finally put it all into place
You've got yours.

I've got mine.

I lost myself.
So long ago.


And I have so much road
to travel along

When I let go
of the wheel

Do angels fly over
My self driving car


I stop.


And get high
from a pipe
in the shape of Venus of Willendorf

Sweet Jane - The Cowboy Junkies

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1971

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Black and White

For Alie


Looking through
infinite possiblities
as above so below
above and beyond outside the lines of reason

push the envelope
watch you bury me

Let me stretch my arms deep through redwood loam
your roots pierce my bones

Watch you grow tall majestic strong
the California wind blowing through your arms

Let the raging sea crash forever against Sur
breaking past Steamer Lane double overhead
biting my lip again
when I see your picture


Let your fingers trace my scars
Let me lose some fucking weight

And get my ollie back above two feet again

Feel the rhythm
Feel the night
Feel the black widow

Bathe in the fountain of my painted death spiral
Airbrush you on jet

Fly
so high

The sky
turns
black


Against the white of your skin
We go into a dive

A free fall frame


Time enough for me.

But the real turn on might be.

You.

A Florida CEO

A Florida CEO
The emperor of Versailles


Who makes his money off customers
mostly because he lies

Writes a note with the paycheck

Let's read the asshat 2004

"So where am I going with all this? It's quite simple.
If any new taxes are levied on me, or my company, as
our current President plans, I will have no choice
but to reduce the size of this company.
Rather than grow this company
I will be forced to cut back.

This means fewer jobs, less benefits and certainly less opportunity

for

everyone.

So, when you make your decision to vote, ask yourself,
which candidate understands the economics of business ownership

and

who

doesn't?

Whose

policies

will

endanger

your

job?

Answer those questions and you should know who might be the one capable of protecting and saving your job.

While

the

media

wants

to tell you to believe the "1 percenters" are bad,

I'm telling you they

are not.


They create most
of the jobs.

If you lose your job, it wo…

If I'm so wrong where does love come from?

Your nipple.
my teeth.

I cannot look at your tattoos.
I want to.

I turn away, like an autistic child.
You taste like peaches.

I can pour the cream.

You snapped at your husband.
Never give me mapquest.
Only google maps.

It was cold.
My heart hurt from the moment I woke
in your arms.

Morning coffee.
A feeling of love for everyone around me.
One so powerful it swept over me.
I wanted to sit in a corner.
So I could not see anything
but a weatherworn table
and your face.

The same face that now speaks every so faintly of age.
The face that still calls to me of beauty.
And the happy family.
That isn't so happy.
The view through the rear window.


Unfriending.
We spoke of voice talent
and telephone systems

Anxiety pulling down.

You were so beautiful. So tall.
So graceful. Lithe.

You have had so many women.
They do whatever you want.
I didn't.


The traffic stretched over a hill
across a bridge.

Around an island.
Back to shore.


I stared at the ass end of cars lined up
all the way to …

Limit

We fly out as far as we can before our water runs out
We test ourselves

What do we do
with the drunken sailor


Get that mother dude naked.

Pull him behind the boat for bait.

I don't understand what I feel

I don't understand what is real.


You can do anything you want
to a drunken sailor

And you should


Where it's At - Beck

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Distance

It hurt
to be there for a third of the time
it took to drive there.

Twenty three hours of driving.
Six short hours until dawn.

We drove into each others arms
but in the cold of a playground
we saw our lives unfold
away from each other

I saw the look in your eye
Soft
Beautiful.
Sad.
Loving.

When the children were playing on the swing.
When you and I spoke of religion.

And then it was gone.
Replaced.

By the kind of thing we both learned in the street.
A way to keep the hurt from killing.
A way to find our way home.

Your husband.
Didn't get the map right.
And for a split second, you seemed sharp.
Always use google maps. Don't use mapquest.

I think.
Yahoo.

My heart ached and hurt from the moment of sunrise.
The sex. Not really us. Yet.
A sort of stolen encounter.
That asked more questions.
Than it answered.


So I close my eyes.
And I see a place
where a confused man
tries to remember the name.
Of a Bar.

On Harvard Square.
The weird tendency of a latter day saint
to avoid alcoho…