Topics

deliberation
stuck in neutral
the surrounds
orbital committal
singular in company
awash with none
air thick with the autumnal

put feet to earth
feel out the paths developing
the failures unravelling
walls will wilt

thou shall not

i
but alone

with all

me

strength

victory

i unto the delved too deep
unearth which slept too late
this task unchecked
the box open
hinging on a broken door
clasping the fabric
of
tatters

the fruit spoiled
the echoes aloft
homeless

i lent the last ear
all those months ago
at the apex of the joining
now
the full failure

do not return to sender

this is all nonsense. 

turn up the music and let's dance until the bones and ashes become one,

the new roads, the new ways.

they will always try to stop us, always.

but they don't wear shin guards.

stomp

thrash

wear their blood with a grin.

inconceivable
yet there it lays in incontrovertable incandescence
but unnoticed
a glaring glib ghost

change never comes

blenders and sham wows
cellophane cracker barrels
i cant believe this isnt better

splurge on the new thing
polyester's tomorrow
steep trouble at the t
who is driving the short cake

the sham shaman shears sheep in a shallow shanty

i accidentally lamb chop juice on my new sweater

it dawned on me the other night
that it is pointless to set the alarm

grip
control
draw
death

this sunny, cold, dry morning
reminds me of that day
a time of great reckoning
when with great tragedy
i forgot to put a stamp on the fuel oil bill.

એકવાર પર સમય
હું તીવ્ર રોક પર હોદ્દો છોડ્યો
તે પ્રકારની ઇજા
પરંતુ તરીકે નથી ઘણી જ્યારે કે સાપ બીટ મને.

when i sat and contemplated
the choices that i made
the fortunes that i gave up
the time that i had left
it all became quite clear

next time i'm going to arby's

this probably doesn't bode very well for me.  with the world on the brink of circling the economical drain, i suppose the chances of me finally landing a job are shrinking even more.  one would think numbers can't get any smaller than zero.

not that i've really held on to much hope.  after the first twelve months, ones spirits will tend to feel like a snake that has been tenderized by a herd of elephants.  that's what i've felt like for the past two years.  a walking sack of bloody paste. 

who the fuck am i kidding anyway?  this isn't a god damned hollywood movie.  there won't be any unexpected call from some slick tv producer, offering me the gig of a lifetime.  there won't be any fortune 500 ceo getting stranded in my neighborhood and dramatically offering me a corner office.

there are no corners to turn.  this whole experience is just one, long, narrow, dark alley that goes on forever.  at least this part could be like a big, budget movie.  like a part where the alley ends in some big gnashing metal machine that just fucking kills me.  being eaten by robots would be more rewarding than this bullshit.

it's all such a fucking mess.  and its clear nobody knows how to clean it up.  if the experts are fucked, what hope is there for us schleps?  none.  there is none.  not anywhere.  not in d.c.  not in n.y.c.  not in this fucking carrot tied at the end of a moving stick career center.  it's all fucked and no one is fixing it.

well, fuck then, why am i playing this game anymore?  fuck that carrot, it's probably rotten anyway.  it's time i stop being lead by the nose down this road.  it's time to get creative and to break out of this fucker.  i've been suffering the way they want me to suffer.  that game is done. 

it's time for a little rock and roll.

the world has seemingly become devoid of that sparkle and wonder that is was full of when i was a young lad

when it seemed like there was adventure and wisdom to be gained no matter which way you turned

the pearls of creativity were coveted and worshiped
the fanciful flight of imagination had a place in the hallowed halls of youthful inspiration

where did that all go
or was i making it all up?

god spoke to me today

through the spokes....


.....of the bicycle wheel








i was taken aback

it was left there
on the platform
the last few grains of hope
that somehow managed to survive
the long descent into the reality of man-made you-topia

in the deathly bowels
of an indifferent cement encrusted underworld

the dim light
the stale breath of the cavernous catacombs

the blank stares
into digital
into detachment
into the mainlined tether to

nothing

to ideas of relationships
that are as real as the tooth fairy
that are not of the hand to hand comradery

of yesteryear

how did it all come to this
why didn't anyone speak up
how did we traverse so far into these depths
without leaving a crumb trail back

and no one brought a fucking flashlight

i suppose this is all to atone
for some long buried grievance
or forgotten missed step

the harshness
is breathtaking and perplexing
from what bowels does it emerge

the stench of all stenches
a dank, damp feeling
i need a shower

the dreamworld is a very scary place to be trapped inside
which is why i always make sure that i bring along a flashlight
a blow torch
and a crowbar

to ward off
the many
festations

it was a hurtling foray into the glass ceiling where there was this fat man who was trying to keep the brothers and the sisters down because they were funny looking, smelled of clorox and peppermint and had "that crazy look in their eyes" which was probably mostly due to the fact that someone had just poored fucking clorox in their goddamn motherfucking eyes you goddamn son of a bitch

a new era dawns
at the turn of the tide
in a cascade of light

great joy floods the land
it becomes awash with great joy
from valley to ivory tower

i'm overcome with zest
bearing witness to the scope and majesty
oh, but that comet hurtling this way could fuck things up

today is here
the promise of yesterday
fell through
must have been some fine print
in the escape claws

moments
dispersed in the morass
of a failure to fly

left
wanting
what the search will not find

                                                      hmm....















hi












                                                           
                                       sure....its quarter after one

your welcome













getting dark





bzzzzzzzt




                                                             
                                                    ....AND NOW TO GUS WITH THE WEATHER.....

the death of the day
bringing mercy
and a gift
to be opened later

night dawns
sleep comes
unconscious joy
woe removed

the evening hours wane
evaporating into nothing
and the box opens
and gifts the gift of tomorrow

and the fucker didn't include the receipt

some might gaze upon this apartment
and see an empty and stark domicile
i take a glass half full approach
this is my spatial palace
i am the king
and the ants my loyal subjects

loyal minus the grape stealing

it was in those last throes
that i finally caught
what this all was about

the aftermath isn't the romanticized wind-swept dystopian landscape you see in the movies

the aftermath isn't accompanied by a bittersweet classical score

the aftermath doesn't come with the ray of hope that a new day will dawn

the aftermath will not be ushered off and replaced by the eventual ascension of rejuvenation

the aftermath is not a placeholder......


the aftermath is cold and static

the aftermath is utterly unchanging

the aftermath is you ... there ... forever

just you....


there are no beacons

there are no search parties

no one is coming for you

the time has come
i get down on bended knee
looking into her eyes
i utter the proposal

she accepts - as long as i add in another fifty bucks

the table centerpiece
has a strong bouqet
of dead daisies

i remember the last time she was here
candles, music, hope, and endless tomorrows
the candles went out
the songs are done
the hope is dead
but the tomorrows keep on a comin

morning
sitting at the table
just me and my irish coffee
reading the want ads again
ive been home for months now
dont really want to work from here
besides
where would anyone sit?

the days march by ceaselessly
before each would contain a sampling
of anticipation
that a great light would arrive
to bring a strain of hope
to grasp ontio
to pull out
to climb through
to arrive at a tomorrow
brimming with the promise
that was promised
in the days of youth

those days are long in the past
each day now brings more of the same
the seemingly endless trek
through endless doom

see through
the pane

the pain
death throes

the solemn duty
to witness the slow
inevitable unwinding
of everything ever known
to be but tattered lies

back break
there is no mistake
that the disc in my spine is out

i'm sure
i've never felt this crap before
it hurts like fuck of that there is no doubt

how do i make it to the end
when there is no resolve

standing in line
at the unemployment office
reminds me of that one time
i rode the roller coaster
and lost my lunch

i dont remember
when it was
she lost her passion
for me

the dawn breaks again
the clock hollering at me again
the cat clawing at my feet again
the small of my back aching again
the neighbor is banging his girl again
the day is under way again

but then again
i have nowhere to go

i seem to be at the end
with no resolve
so i wonder
what will be the resolution

the one certainty
that i know of
is the worst is yet to come
but like they say
hindsight is twenty-twenty

i recall
sitting on the floor
in the middle of the kitchen
pots and pans everywhere
wooden spoons and rolling pins
mother standing near
with affectionate approval
amidst the childish cacophany
the joy to bash and clang

and now

those days are but splinters and rust

sitting
amongst
the surrounding silence

a thought
a possibility
i dare not follow

and on the fifth day
it is raining again
the lawn looks like a swamp
and mom wants to play twister again

my day is filled with rainbows
and draped in pretty flowers
my night is filled with leather
and bathed in golden showers

my girl called today
said tonite wasn't going to work out
it is fortunate
that my cat can't open the front door

when
the
sun
rose
i
fell

this whole thing started off wrong
dad and mom and a bottle of jack
alcohol is a shitty contraceptive

the constant reminders
the burned images
the haunting sounds
i hate home movies

i left myself there
buried somewhere in her sheets
i'm not very good
at avoiding her enticements
especially when they
are bathed in alcohol and vanilla