Monday, December 19, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
For Brian
I like to read through each page because it illustrates every detailed stage that induced this blinding red rage towards the concept of age. Try to picture every word like it defined each and every one of my experiences but they can never tell me what I need to know unless it's under the notion of becoming furious. Some days I find myself waking up into a thought of just being, bi-curious, always trying to sway to the commotion, painting a picture full of explosions, so I can stick my nose in but always have the ability to step out. Cleverly observing neutrally, this movies film reels keep playing over and over like luck only comes packed wit the cliqued four leaf clover. Hasn't that been done before, is all I say while viewing the curtains of the stage being closed to entertain our thoughtless brains. Some of us try to improve, you call that art, others of us just absorb, now that was great, but a few of us improvise, finding ourselves through the density of a medium. The world hasn't gotten any smaller, and we have been telling the same story for countless years, the only thing that is left anymore is a decaying stadium that fills with many fears. I never grew by watching, just nurtured myself.
Education
same old, same old
I was told, that everyday
is the same old thing,
and everything mimicked the old,
same old, still cold,
chemistry teacher told me
no such thing but
obviously he’s never been outside.
same old, still old,
life references itself,
the only reason we can
fathom these possibilities,
is because it’s the
same old, same old
I was told, dialogue
can never be bold,
it’s just there, drifting
like the same old, same old
it’s like life is perforate
and is in a fold,
same story, same morning,
the present is the past,
we are just building the
same old, same old,
so one day are child can be told
to live by our morals
and to never fear;
embrace
the same old,
same old.
I was told, that everyday
is the same old thing,
and everything mimicked the old,
same old, still cold,
chemistry teacher told me
no such thing but
obviously he’s never been outside.
same old, still old,
life references itself,
the only reason we can
fathom these possibilities,
is because it’s the
same old, same old
I was told, dialogue
can never be bold,
it’s just there, drifting
like the same old, same old
it’s like life is perforate
and is in a fold,
same story, same morning,
the present is the past,
we are just building the
same old, same old,
so one day are child can be told
to live by our morals
and to never fear;
embrace
the same old,
same old.
Drunken Debris
[Scattered, no moment to soon but,
they seem to be forgotten after the end.]
The bricks layered before the blue prints were started.
Locks bought at truck stops,
doors made from cardboard found in the salvage.
My new apartment looks to be recycled.
Just moved in; first questions:
How did the past tenants break so many tiles and
leave behind there multitude of precious pubes.
And what is that on the wall?
Insects started me, the deck didn't pass safety code
but I sat on it for a month.
Everything that comes with living on your own,
those green dreams, were crushed with drunken debris.
But maybe I can improve my luck.
Get my parents to call the landlord and complain.
Throw away my belongings that were maliciously infected
by bed bugs. And each time I killed one they would leave
behind my blood/red stains like polka dots.
Give it all back for good will and a physics smile so
I can spread the bad evenly, passing the fragments onto
defenseless strangers.
Soon the whole city, Chicago, was known for it's epidemic of
blood transmitted diseases because each artifact was stained with red.
Everything sold under clearance, even the people, marked with
red dots of impurity.
they seem to be forgotten after the end.]
The bricks layered before the blue prints were started.
Locks bought at truck stops,
doors made from cardboard found in the salvage.
My new apartment looks to be recycled.
Just moved in; first questions:
How did the past tenants break so many tiles and
leave behind there multitude of precious pubes.
And what is that on the wall?
Insects started me, the deck didn't pass safety code
but I sat on it for a month.
Everything that comes with living on your own,
those green dreams, were crushed with drunken debris.
But maybe I can improve my luck.
Get my parents to call the landlord and complain.
Throw away my belongings that were maliciously infected
by bed bugs. And each time I killed one they would leave
behind my blood/red stains like polka dots.
Give it all back for good will and a physics smile so
I can spread the bad evenly, passing the fragments onto
defenseless strangers.
Soon the whole city, Chicago, was known for it's epidemic of
blood transmitted diseases because each artifact was stained with red.
Everything sold under clearance, even the people, marked with
red dots of impurity.
Commune
I stole a town once.
It was in the middle of Eastern Europe.
Between a hill and two mountains.
I invited all my friends.
We Ruled like the old Christian’s of Norway.
The gap we had between us,
the townsfolk and my brethren,
was citizenship and city planning.
They lived there and we made the living possible.
The town would hold thousands at a time
but we didn’t put our lackluster safety in antique citadels.
There need has passed like swords and jesters.
Even though my friends and I were the numerators,
we supported all denominations sacred.
They were all pebbles to our own path.
But, we noticed the Cistercians wouldn’t partake in our City.
We made it to the end,
strong, safe and peaceful
& look at those black robed monks,
still studying us like we were the
robbers still being evil.
It was in the middle of Eastern Europe.
Between a hill and two mountains.
I invited all my friends.
We Ruled like the old Christian’s of Norway.
The gap we had between us,
the townsfolk and my brethren,
was citizenship and city planning.
They lived there and we made the living possible.
The town would hold thousands at a time
but we didn’t put our lackluster safety in antique citadels.
There need has passed like swords and jesters.
Even though my friends and I were the numerators,
we supported all denominations sacred.
They were all pebbles to our own path.
But, we noticed the Cistercians wouldn’t partake in our City.
We made it to the end,
strong, safe and peaceful
& look at those black robed monks,
still studying us like we were the
robbers still being evil.
Cities
Cities
These
Faces
Constantly Growing,
Flesh Still Fresh,
Out of place, from Nowhere,
Pushing Sapling Seedling’s till they pass finally.
Architecture Forced into troubling, historical areas that never look Quite right with faces.
Windows that could reflect, holding onto post modernism.
Referencing the deaths of generations,
Bones still cold.
Old
Cities.
These
Faces
Constantly Growing,
Flesh Still Fresh,
Out of place, from Nowhere,
Pushing Sapling Seedling’s till they pass finally.
Architecture Forced into troubling, historical areas that never look Quite right with faces.
Windows that could reflect, holding onto post modernism.
Referencing the deaths of generations,
Bones still cold.
Old
Cities.
Case of Books
Case of Books
Six slabs of wood
tethered together to form
storage, pieces of paper
filling from side to side.
Can’t find one, already
read that one, the white
oak cloaks the media.
Warped from the stress that
suffered from the printing
press, need more space
fact of life.
Couldn’t move now, just
arranged them all in order,
in no specific order.
Horizontals on a vertical
layer, then a row
in front of those.
I should probably sell
these but how do you put
a price on words, on
paper? Charity could
be the only answer but
what if I find myself
stranded
with cancer.
I guess there’s always
libraries but there’s nothing
more financial then ownership.
I own those phrases, to
a degree, but the book
case will always hold a
pedigree over me.
Six slabs of wood
tethered together to form
storage, pieces of paper
filling from side to side.
Can’t find one, already
read that one, the white
oak cloaks the media.
Warped from the stress that
suffered from the printing
press, need more space
fact of life.
Couldn’t move now, just
arranged them all in order,
in no specific order.
Horizontals on a vertical
layer, then a row
in front of those.
I should probably sell
these but how do you put
a price on words, on
paper? Charity could
be the only answer but
what if I find myself
stranded
with cancer.
I guess there’s always
libraries but there’s nothing
more financial then ownership.
I own those phrases, to
a degree, but the book
case will always hold a
pedigree over me.
Can I Make a Career my Hobby?
Flimsy, discussing,
proper diagnosis, clued in,
found out, between the detail,
see-shells, timid, use salt once,
scrap that, just rift,
deaf ears, upon a grave
sound on, mouth on,
run on, fall on.
It's to hard. One day I'll be able to relocate.
After I go, my funeral will be a party,
no regret on my passing, fuck me.
If I'm about to be murdered, I'll tell the culprits
to make sure to rip me apart so I conserve the space
underneath us. Soon will have to shoot the lifeless
into space or throw them in the ocean
to recycle ourselves into nature's abyss.
sturdy, detrimental,
generally known, falsified,
tempted, flown through,
jargon, caved in,
cookoo clock, spinning,
world around me, introvert,
spread thin, lived in,
wasted, breaking through carpet,
languish, erased with no mark.
Ended to soon but began to early.
proper diagnosis, clued in,
found out, between the detail,
see-shells, timid, use salt once,
scrap that, just rift,
deaf ears, upon a grave
sound on, mouth on,
run on, fall on.
It's to hard. One day I'll be able to relocate.
After I go, my funeral will be a party,
no regret on my passing, fuck me.
If I'm about to be murdered, I'll tell the culprits
to make sure to rip me apart so I conserve the space
underneath us. Soon will have to shoot the lifeless
into space or throw them in the ocean
to recycle ourselves into nature's abyss.
sturdy, detrimental,
generally known, falsified,
tempted, flown through,
jargon, caved in,
cookoo clock, spinning,
world around me, introvert,
spread thin, lived in,
wasted, breaking through carpet,
languish, erased with no mark.
Ended to soon but began to early.
The Humor
The clown, with his face painted Vaudeville style which wa a prime, white layer with blue and black trimmed around the eyes. He had on an oil based paint that sheaned in the sun and it made his face look more like a mask then a painted face. He’s been doing this for so long that the oil has actually loosened his face and with out the paint, he looked bloated. Red lipstick, the cheap one’s you could find in an upscale gas station covered the bottom half of his face. The art isn’t to actually smile but if you happened to move your face a teeny bit, your grin would grow from gigantic to extraordinary.
Brothers
The phone rings but everyone is at the table.
“Hey sweetie can you get that.”
But Don was to busy eating his bacon omelette to worry about phone calls before work. Work never called him, the head mechanic would tell him the previous work day, so who could it be anyway's. He looked up at his wife, looked in her eyes and focused back in on his breakfast. The most important meal of the day. His three daughters were all awake, ready to be home-schooled, with there red hair pulled back, which they got from their mother, held back with bonnets. Jessica couldn’t eat with the phone ringing. Would the monotony ever end. The shrill of the rings, made it so she couldn’t hear herself chew. She motioned to get up, to pick up the phone but as soon as Don heard the wooden chair slide on the tile, hitting the borders of grout, he sprung up with all of his energy that he received from the eggs. He took a few lunges until he reached the phone in his living room.
“Hello, This is Donald Mundolt speaking.”
“Hey sweetie can you get that.”
But Don was to busy eating his bacon omelette to worry about phone calls before work. Work never called him, the head mechanic would tell him the previous work day, so who could it be anyway's. He looked up at his wife, looked in her eyes and focused back in on his breakfast. The most important meal of the day. His three daughters were all awake, ready to be home-schooled, with there red hair pulled back, which they got from their mother, held back with bonnets. Jessica couldn’t eat with the phone ringing. Would the monotony ever end. The shrill of the rings, made it so she couldn’t hear herself chew. She motioned to get up, to pick up the phone but as soon as Don heard the wooden chair slide on the tile, hitting the borders of grout, he sprung up with all of his energy that he received from the eggs. He took a few lunges until he reached the phone in his living room.
“Hello, This is Donald Mundolt speaking.”
Thank You Nick, Power Rangers and Mortal Kombat!
The leader of the Fission Ninja’s saw his moment of attack. His name was Stalin and at this time of night, he only carried his purple grape ninja outfit. The only time you would be able to see him come is if you mistook the moon’s white for the white of his eyes. He was hiding behind a fence until he saw Chuck, a Cyber Samurai, the arch nemesis of the Fission Ninja’s. They hold their money and build the greatest shields from the other factions. His outfit shinned like a streak of light, not really trying to hide himself but calling the fight like the color red to a bull. Chuck was looking around, waiting for the some one to finally make there move but he just leaned on a brick wall with a cool swagger. He was known to hardly ever provoke a fight, that would be against there code, they wait to defeat the violent to even absorb there financial growth.
Milo
For my girlfriend’s early birthday present, I got her what she has always asked for since she was a child. A bunny. They are extraordinarily cheap for a pet and rather lazy. I couldn’t go with her to pick it up because I had work but she got it on her own from a facebook friend that raises them. It’s a Holland Lop but to a person that doesn’t know bunny breeds, basically it looks like any household bunny. It’s oval shape with floppy ears that rest on the side of it’s face. It has brown spots across it’s white coat. She named it Milo which was a reference to the video game Ilomilo. It’s a cooperative puzzle game that we played a lot over the summer. I was Ilo, a red kid in a pajama that covers there whole body except it’s face and she was Milo, the blue equivalent to Ilo. The point of the game is to find your friend through a dream like area that is floating the sky. Ilo and Milo always lose each other and need helping to form their friendship again. The bunny Milo is nothing like the person that inspired his name.
Right now, Milo is underneath me sleeping in darkness. I am on the couch and he loves being in solitude. He loves it underneath my dresser, in a corner of his playpen that he has under surveillance or where he is now, underneath the couch. Bunnies love there sleep but they don’t enjoy when others want to go to sleep when they are fully rested. He knows when Jackie and I need to go to bed and he will do whatever he wants to try and keep me awake. He will drink water for minutes at a time just to hear the cage shake or kick up his own shit from his cage just to hear his back legs thump on the metal.
He is really needy but he has taken a liking to me. Animals usually do because I hardly enforce discipline in their daily routines. If he knows I am not busy getting ready for work or doing homework for school, he usually peaks his head out and notices that I have some free time to give him attention. He will hop on over and nudge my socks so I can start massaging his furry body. He loves this and if I decide to get up and move anywhere he will not just stand in his place but he will follow me very closely. Some times I almost step on his miniature frame. He also loves mazes. If I form my body in a perplexing nature, arms on the carpet, head on it too, with my ass pointed to the ceiling and my legs as far as I can possibly spread them in this awkward position, he will run around me finding every possible route to take. Milo is extremely cute.
But dreams can play a trick on you. I needed to run to the pet store to get Milo his food for the morning. He always acts like we never feed him so when I am pouring his food he will run on over and put his head in the dish and start chowing down even though I am still pouring the food in the dish which leads to me pouring it all over his head and the ground. He doesn’t mind. Milo, who is usually afraid of new places and has ventured any farther then the couch which is about 1/10th of my apartment but for some reason he wanted to come all the way to the store which is about thirty minutes away. I can’t say no to such a cute creature so I just told him that he needed to stay by me.
I hop on my bike but for some reason the point of view while riding it is like me riding a power wheel when I was six. When I was six, I had my own bunny who was all black and was named Bambi. He kept up with me the whole entire time just hopping along the freeways and intersections. He got in a lot of cars way but no one honked because he is afraid of loud noises. The cars just parked and let us pass and we were one step closer to the pet store. Leading into the strip mall was a entrance ramp and I couldn’t help myself to get a little farther ahead then him. He was trying to keep up on the sidewalk, running and hopping at the same time but for some reason there was an open elevator shaft in the middle of the parking structure. I looked back and saw him fall in. I threw my bike down and needed to go save him. I looked down the shaft and saw him climbing up the elevator that had ladder steps but he wasn’t fast enough. It was going down at a faster rate then he could climb. I tried to press the down button on the elevator so I could meet up with him but there wasn’t any buttons. It was some sort of chute and then like every dream that I actually remember after I wake up, I consciously woke myself up knowing that where I was not actually reality because I could hear Milo drinking water, and lunged forward from my bed to see if he was alright. He was.
Right now, Milo is underneath me sleeping in darkness. I am on the couch and he loves being in solitude. He loves it underneath my dresser, in a corner of his playpen that he has under surveillance or where he is now, underneath the couch. Bunnies love there sleep but they don’t enjoy when others want to go to sleep when they are fully rested. He knows when Jackie and I need to go to bed and he will do whatever he wants to try and keep me awake. He will drink water for minutes at a time just to hear the cage shake or kick up his own shit from his cage just to hear his back legs thump on the metal.
He is really needy but he has taken a liking to me. Animals usually do because I hardly enforce discipline in their daily routines. If he knows I am not busy getting ready for work or doing homework for school, he usually peaks his head out and notices that I have some free time to give him attention. He will hop on over and nudge my socks so I can start massaging his furry body. He loves this and if I decide to get up and move anywhere he will not just stand in his place but he will follow me very closely. Some times I almost step on his miniature frame. He also loves mazes. If I form my body in a perplexing nature, arms on the carpet, head on it too, with my ass pointed to the ceiling and my legs as far as I can possibly spread them in this awkward position, he will run around me finding every possible route to take. Milo is extremely cute.
But dreams can play a trick on you. I needed to run to the pet store to get Milo his food for the morning. He always acts like we never feed him so when I am pouring his food he will run on over and put his head in the dish and start chowing down even though I am still pouring the food in the dish which leads to me pouring it all over his head and the ground. He doesn’t mind. Milo, who is usually afraid of new places and has ventured any farther then the couch which is about 1/10th of my apartment but for some reason he wanted to come all the way to the store which is about thirty minutes away. I can’t say no to such a cute creature so I just told him that he needed to stay by me.
I hop on my bike but for some reason the point of view while riding it is like me riding a power wheel when I was six. When I was six, I had my own bunny who was all black and was named Bambi. He kept up with me the whole entire time just hopping along the freeways and intersections. He got in a lot of cars way but no one honked because he is afraid of loud noises. The cars just parked and let us pass and we were one step closer to the pet store. Leading into the strip mall was a entrance ramp and I couldn’t help myself to get a little farther ahead then him. He was trying to keep up on the sidewalk, running and hopping at the same time but for some reason there was an open elevator shaft in the middle of the parking structure. I looked back and saw him fall in. I threw my bike down and needed to go save him. I looked down the shaft and saw him climbing up the elevator that had ladder steps but he wasn’t fast enough. It was going down at a faster rate then he could climb. I tried to press the down button on the elevator so I could meet up with him but there wasn’t any buttons. It was some sort of chute and then like every dream that I actually remember after I wake up, I consciously woke myself up knowing that where I was not actually reality because I could hear Milo drinking water, and lunged forward from my bed to see if he was alright. He was.
Jon's House
As a kid from the age of eight to fourteen, I would go over to my best friend’s house usually every day. I couldn’t tell you if we bonded over the same things and that is why I became such great friends with him and his three year older brother or if it was because there grandparents house was two blocks away and there house could be seen from my house a block over. I remember the first day he moved in, I knew him since preschool and we were friends at our elementary school, but I was just bouncing on my trampoline watching a new family move into a house about fifty yards from my back yard. I didn’t really notice who it was until I saw the family come instead of the movers. I was ecstatic because I hardly ever left my house. He moved in over our school’s spring break and the next day he asked me to come over. I never, except for birthdays parties, left my house so I didn’t know proper etiquette to ask. Instead of asking how I should do this, I just went over there through my neighbors backyard which I got in trouble for. Then I went over to his house every day that break because his brother Wills had a skateboard as did I. We would just skate on his asphalt driveway pretty much all day unless we got tired or wanted to watch a skateboard video which in turn got us “pumped” up to skate. It was a viscous cycle that we got addicted to.
Growing Up
Growing up always seemed to be unfair in my household. My two older brothers were close in age, only three years apart, but then I was born 6 years after them. To say the least, I was always picked on because I was an easy target. I got some glory for 8 years though because I was the youngest. Being the youngest in a family of three was nice because even though I got picked on quite frequently and always got my video games beat before I even got the play them, I still got the most attention out of my parents. Actually, come to think about it, I got a lot of attention from them too. They would always invite me to play video games with them and even bring me along some times to hang out with their friends. I was pretty much an imposter because I just did what they did without having to much say. I picked up video games addictively because it was just a family traditional. I started playing Magic: The Gathering because my brother Sean saw it one day at Target and decided that it would be fun. Whatever I could do when I was a kid to fit in, I usually took that route just so I had something to do after school.
Friday, October 7, 2011
That is Mean
I don't think I ever posted this but here is my poetry collection for free on google books. http://books.google.com/books?id=m0ZEL_QT5MsC&printsec=frontcover&dq=that+is+mean&hl=en&ei=e1KPTtKYOMKAsgLrvvGMAQ&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=1&ved=0CDEQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q&f=false
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
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