A New Rise
by: Egan Maxwell Click
A New Rise
Its nice to sleep in another bed
Dreamless nights reshuffled again
Spilled wine on the sheets
My neck, where the hot air speaks.
Lights left on
My right eye wrong
twitching to the beat
Blink to pass out, exhausted
After this song
When their feet starting sweeping
And the whole crowd has to play a long
So that's why you dance
Gives you the chance to be an embarrassment
To find freckles in my hair ,glance
In a chair in my cross legged stance
Waiting for friends
Outside smoking again.
Level three
Lets take it to the Fourth floor
No room in the city outdoors.
Filled the night with smoke
Three stops
Just enough to catch a new rise
Lets float on
And become modest
Help out a fellow
white burns to yellow
And hello isn't enough
Tongues move smooth
When the vibe is mellow.
Hold your breath
Shift over the linoleum
Stairway under us
Moonlight over the metal bus
Shuttle first and layover rust
Walk in, hand in hand
Hold a balance
Try hard but the support is not far.
And just like my birthday, no presents
But the challenge and the present.
Spin, Spin -- Cycle, Cycle
Lets spin with the stars
Each one a new son
Only decide on a wink
Never remembered the date--
Pass out, past you
Too far just won
Maybe I could think
In time, i'll thank.
But the brink
Isn't an edge just a mark.
Smart starts and horizontal opportunities
Led the way, strained stray
Sprained train
Wrong way
Other sides delayed.
Positive ions positioned smoothly
No sheets just smooth me
Or smother thee
So blanked, head shrank
Move up or over
Green plastic soldiers
Trained to point, obsolete
But their breath
Held skies.
Hold ties.
Don't match the tattered rinse
Finer find her wash hair under sinks
Get the curls out so the referral
Can sound firm
Like thunder
Don't steal mine
Wheel of time
Just wheel mine
Or will my will
Crush rush
Thin win buckle
Spin spin
Cycle cycle
Aqueducts made of upholstery
take and make
Each and every thing spit
Thing--
bring a stallion to a laundry mat
Spend money to see it
Give it its not there
Spread
Count on it.
Trash Treasure
Try to pick through the medicinal bottles
One after another
For canines.
Way back dating from the eighties.
One for Sheila for seizures
All gone
Before I was born.
Reminiscence from the negatives
Even though they pulled us
Around the church on our sled.
Started using hands like shovels.
Expired thoughts swept anew.
More space, liquids commit bitter taste
Overdose, cabinet shelves overflowed.
Old wishbones
Cant miss the stones
Covered in corroded faceless pennies
New tombs, coded logic
trash is treasure
Bag is full
I'm just a son trying to be friendly.
found behind the furniture
higher then my frame can measure
stuffed for storage
ignore it.
A bribe bridged lavish.
Thank you Don, For the Words
Im underworld
Searching for that origin coming from that White Noise.
The music that mused around in my drums before rest.
Humming turmoil in my latter days. At first, the genesis
Echoed uneasy shaking my knee caps.
So my nap dreams made remarks to symbolic representation
Of black panther following me, crouched, through the earth
Our mantle. Wrist buckled trying to expel webbing
From my tight veins but all that came
Was two hours lost and a brain that didn't need nightly
Routines but just open space to wander.
To finish conversations before conversed and that likes to laugh
At the conceptual finished product.
I wish we didn't have to fall because I was just in that house across the gourge
Last week in a sleep dream where r.e.m. just let me sift at the waterfall becoming from nowhere.
Space flinched. The gap made easy with money expunged.
Life lofted by glass sea sponge.
Grow the hours like curls
Matted tonight.
Gone again.
Thank you Don, for the words
That built towards a peak that pinned my location
On a pinnacle our new wave sea port
let my culture into you
If you have it for me too.
I threw it away.
We got the spuns because it was the only level of fun we knew how to achieve. Each day like the last because laziness is easier to handle then our lives tattered fortunes. One day we hope we will all be something or other growing in the clouds but steps were hard to take when a seating arrangement is set in your place.
Friends only showed up seemingly unannounced since you were easy and had a place engulfed in privacy right next to the paraphernalia. The chuckles got pushed to the walls by the stages of smoke. First packs being for greetings. The second before a cigarette and the third and all the rest for the waste that shunned us from all encounters.
And it was all against us before we could enter.
Success was measured on the quality and by the choice of entertainment. Everyone cared to much and the actions became slanted by the picky users. Decisions became concrete but never the fulfillment. Plateaus started to appear in each direction. Past became a blur and I still have to scan previous entries to remember who I once was. The future was a constant that seemed to travel farther from us.
Our hands were out for assistance but when we looked we only realized that air was the only thing that separated us from it. That and we saw that we didn't actually remove our hands from the controllers but it was only our eyes bulging from the persistent irritation.
Love laughed and left like humor. It felt right the first few times but then it began to play like delirium and you forget while you are laughing and then once we remember the hilarity is over and we are on to the next scene and you missed a few good jokes in between that time fuzz and you hope it wasn't important. But love stuck around still popping its silly head in every occasion never actually supporting you but only wanting a sense of want. You only had what they need and one its over they leave like a wild animal only after your scraps. We all didn't mind and those ropes still pull us in an array of directions but now I'm used to it and can see it coming because disappointment has already been normalized because I cant count the nights I couldn't sleep next to love waiting for subtle hints to lead to change.
Too many people changed to fit around me and now are roped in and don't know that I made treaties with the spiders so I I wouldn't be trapped in there webs. I cant tell people how to change because help is perceived as resentment. I make my own drum beats to walk to and just because it works for me probably means you will fail at it. The funs are over or what used to be my conception of entertainment. It only hides the things in plain sight underneath sidewalks.
Friends are clearer and I wish they could hear themselves talk right here but the present is to far away. The trap has sprung and change is easier to just happen spontaneous combustion then discussing how that change will actually materialize I to fruitation. Ideas are fun to discuss but the element to take that from blab to this new frontiered reality is what makes that idea an actual living thing. Holding back ourselves with petty privacy issues and commonplace theft only is us setting our own traps and forgetting we placed that ball and chain around our own foot.
Negativity is just a wash over an already painted wall to remove the smoke stains while still smoking with one hand while the other hand is using the brush. Its away to look out the window and identify the problems while still remaining enclosed in our box and the space around our perimeter is getting smaller due to the problems we have defined around us. You aren't making connections unless its with other boxes. But its all one big box and the problems you have identified against now conveniently place you outside your box. Now were all in open space because you cant be in your box while being on the outside of the box you created. Bye bye.
Towards the yolk.
I own my content-ent
It continues to grow
With vines held tightly by unwanted hands
All the pages stack and are forming
An arch and I'm right underneath
Watching the halo take hold.
The letters lose their weight
Spread till thin font like calibre
Age isn't physical since its all digital
But farther from the publications date
The easier it is to wrap those words
Away in a tomb that still mourns
the crumbling definitions of a
Static vocabulary.
I own my content-ent
And observing it from
A bed that cant touch the product
Only makes time seem irrelevant.
Its hard enough to catch up
Reading my own blank pages
And listen to the songs
Half strung and played
To only replace the time I had
Made to give up.
The route is still unfinished
Waiting for the proper
Copper is only a place
That seems to gravitate the notes
That fall freely upon keys.
Each thing a thing because it
Altered me. No more or less
No mission statement other then
That or this because now
I own my own content-ent
And its always here.
Right where I left it before bed
Realizing its too big to store.
Miles in an hour
Close call are milling miles so sunk the horizon is off axis
The wash of jet fuel and plutonium seem slightly beautiful next to the antennas broadcasting news stations.
The communication fell or was cut off like insects mandibles too close to child's scissors
And it was only a pleasure cardinal feathers dropped after generations had to move
After lawn mowers ate their nests.
No child left behind to protect
Liquidation like the mothers regurgitation after an unsuspected morning drizzle.
All grass was green but I still had to sleep for work.
Run off drains like run down sentences parked parallel
Next to home owners new landscapers
Sky tapered a close
But green eyes opened in the dark silhouettes only shown
By passing cars and lit up on ramps.
Going till tranny cant move forward any more.
Next stop the waste is held down by latex bags and the roads cant be tampered with.
The show starts later then arrival walk to see bus drivers rivals
The gawkers and back packers
You'll fall in love with it here
The environment not the sheeple
Run down cathedrals and run off loners
Only talking to try and remember
The day they were like that squatter
But its no bother
Listen like a brother but walk on the other side of the street
Pick up a few paragraphs to quickly read
Hope the intersection is here after the film
So the car has a place to stay side street inferior
When I leave it behind a few dead bushes
On lasalle and superior.
The Interim before here into now.
The proceedings only led us to a line
That looked like it formed far too early by fans
with nothing better to do on a mild Saturday afternoon.
A tall glass before two shows.
Wait to enter to wait.
A spacious spot becomes crowded
As the crowd sits in the grass until the act appears.
The herd shuffles pushing ahead
Switching from front to back
Side to side until the stage can finally be seen.
Use the supports that have waited in the same spot
Before either band.
Lights blare strobe visceral
clap for the guy no one knows
Two step to his Rhodes songs
And adjust frequencies to over hear the casual conversations
Coming from all directions and the stagnant distractions.
Photos taken in the heat of fog while the sun was behind the stage
All blur and no experience revealed but a ghost withdrawal
An event that was observed not enhanced by silly media storage
look back to remember a moment you were planning to view in the future.
Stale notes sang while foots were stomped and hair smelled while jiving in an enclosed space growing and contracting
New bodies appeared and went with the tide of age. Smoke blown
Roamed the audience until hands waved or hands held up to snap another photo.
Line of sight blocked but we're here for the music
rumbling from the enclosure
Hear to listen and process
And transmit the notes into the origin of the wave
And glance and the buoys disruption
Enjoy what the wind that Jimmy made.
A Short One
A hug like a dent,
whatever,
Just walk the state.
Been waiting to smoke cigarettes.
Imagination in the dress circle
Cant visualize the far back or right side.
Not out on business
Take a smoke, a pass, and a lighter.
Walk to my car.
Downtown doesn't get darker.
Drive towards Logan
No passenger,
Just pass the trucks on the shoulder
And smoke a pipe.
High tides and no time
Follow mental topography
Get lost and find myself by Depaul, mementos sloppily
Passing the same Uhaul station I drove by at six
Late to pick her up by a half
because I drove same to see his new love,
old ex,
now an exit
Low lines and fine dine
Adjust, rewind, compensate expenses.
No further reactions surface.
Sleep on couches
Wake up always perfect.
Teen-O-Rama
The sunlight rises the breeze away
While Angelo runs out of his town house
to feel his scooters wheels on the pavement.
Going on a routine run, Johnny's on his way passing
The upperclassmen with their leather stuck Letterman jackets.
They ride in unison picking up steam one foot off the side like a balance beam.
Holli's the outlaw is on the next block not far,
While she finishes her chores waiting to hear the familiar knock of johnny's two taps on the front door.
Shes joins them with the wind, yesterday she missed them.
Onto the next girl, hiding behind a curved staircase is the talking Trista
holding her finger up to Holli so she can sit and wait.
Take off on back alleys towards freedom that only parting clouds could achieve.
The rest of the dozen find the flock.
Devon found loni, the twins beano and fattie waited by a curb,
Adam joined alone, Gregory had to catch up too busy playing his portable.
Adam gets smacked to last by the Mohawked Elle,
Te team from Heavenwhistle.
Chit chatting in a backyard, questioning Angelo being a Mexican.
Ethnicity formulating their individuality,
the twins are Ricans but all Americans in a suburban americana
with nowhere better to be but under a bridge between alleys in between fields,
waiting for the geriatrics to leave their breakfast coffee at the teenagers cafe.
Pancakes make their rounds,
brunch turned into their last supper before high school resumes.
The sun becomes high noon
as the sailing of napkin wrappers squeals like native great northern loons.
An invitation passed through social media from unknown Molli to snub nosed Johnny. Out in the middle of nowhere where red barns
are only adjacent to large farms.
All the kids work on sketches of a college sophomores
clad attraction but its misdirection jealousy
in the group leads a few to the bathroom for some adolescents retrospective.
The others just play a game of ragtag tag.
Road trip lead their scooters to a mall strip
where group fragments into a game of an outlandish costume party
waiting for the time to spark.
Angelo spots his crush, perfect Persephanie Marx,
across the hall, still, at the mall,
the twins playing twister in a quaint fitness store,
Gelo turns jello but he can't reverberate with Mimis younger sister.
He faints easily falling into the foundation.
The rest hold him up and splash fountain water on the boy.
But Phil pulls the attention from the comatose and the bonded
by popping a boner and the friends chuckle and forget about the true loner.
They smell the remnants of dried pot leaves stashed away as
Trista brings her friend Persephanie over to say hey.
Broken ice by stoner niceties, lets toke so our minds can break like yolk.
They ride to find a spot to lock down but no one can catch or catch up to Phil.
Hes too busy racing to get blazed. A show off,
the weed resembles moss.
Angelo finishes his ride with a glance that stayed longer than a stare towards sephie. His look that turns your hearing into impaired.
Wait till seven,
something special sent from a text from heaven.
Time to kill before a real party, the group sits for munchies, all thirteen waiting for ice cream patiently starving.
Catch the drowsing sun for their last solid break,
run through the sand simultaneously
until they can into the waves that break.
Angelo uses his arms sparingly trying to catch himself
before he sinks like a bag of bricks but sephie comes alone to show him personally a few tricks.
Throw a ball around, one to another,
everyone catches it even Angelo whose now hoisted on Adams shoulders.
Now they get out of the water
about to pass a hail Mary toward the side,
Angelo takes off in applause,
until the change in tide.
An upperclassmen takes the arm of the throwers, Johnny,
and dangles it around spinning Johnny like a ballet dancer
calling him a tenderfoot so they can all recluse into their hobbies.
The varsity plays the group like the blues,
they want the information to the party and
they all knew these guys were bad news.
Johnny takes a wave of embarrassment for his team
yelling I'm a little tenderfoot
as the varsity students cheer under a veil of heightened self esteem.
Half of them split up,
one to a quinceanera at a park,
the other at a playground park sparking up the last of weed
as they laugh their asses into the grass.
Angelo wakes up from a daydream
to find everyone else fell fast asleep.
But by his surprise he catches Sephies eyes as she pulls him off
under a tree to sip some tecate with the breeze.
Both gulping the brown liquid with a bitter face
sephie presses her lips to Angelo's while they embrace.
An extra set of hands to help with his glasses,
they knock heads,
stop and notice being watched by the masses.
The final ride through a country road
they spot the barn after passing two or three common folk.
The fields are massive,
the great plains unmatched next to radiating sunset.
They see a few cows, horses, two pigs and more sheep
but no one is around, no party,
just a chickens peep
and some corn to reap.
No one fusses,
everyone eases back
and looks up
to the stars
to take the whole world back.
Transcribed Freestyle from 2009 Heltah Skeltah Freestyle on Lun5.com
Ruck (Sean Price)
Big Bang Theory hear thee
Sean Born
Fresh out my mom's pussy
Sean Born Porn
Sean long gone
somebody bring him back
he's moving to fast
somebody bring him crack
he's moving even faster
somebody bring him dope
fucked up in the dirt
somebody bring him soap
clean up my act, write a few violent songs
but they wack like glen rice with the new balance on
Dominique Warbrookes Sean P war crooks
in castle and smack who ever give long looks
baffle, the mind rhyme design is outland
like coppin' coke from papi not understanding spanish
understand the damage of the incredible ruck
puff steam get green squint in your shit get bust
tough, tonka truck 4 by 4, guns out you're rubbed out
all out war
Rock
You can find me drinking wine in Amy Winehouse's house
with a different type rod pipe in her mouth
yeah I said it
scared niggers think but say
I'm frankie lymon
why do these birds sing so gay
I'm new york grittiest city slicker
you're the new worlds shittiest 16 spitters
get these niggers the fuck away from me
no watch ya'll move baing
blood on the wall like pigs and rats die move
I know, I'm a star I'm a star but I'm a start niggers
whippin and shiftin off of their businesses
It's like I'm fucking with the k k k
I hate these niggers, I'll break their face
roaches to ak raid
spray out of your range bodies
you'll got guns that will sleep you like
da dadad dadad yah mean
I don't even have to merk you
I'll have Sean P (Ruck) punch your gums out like stride commercials
Ruck
I'll be the fear factor
the rapper, come back here
smack your ear
take your jack career
and smoke the clear rapper
punk sweet your food
lunch meat I'm rude
dump heat
leave your slump sleep
nigger your through
fuck you and the crackers that own you
I own two guns that'll pop off your crown and dethrone you
abdul jabbar muggsy malone you
I don't know what that means
but you know what I means when I told you
I'm old school
new school
I'm a drop out
got my g.e.d.
back in the game now
pull your guap out
opt out your contract
pop out the chromes
clap a nigger Baing
let the motherfuckers know that seans back
my president is black
the cocaine is white
the nine nickel plated
the nigger fixing to fight
Sean Price a mother fucking
mother fucker, motherfucker
Rock
Back from the scene
it's the incredible one man team
when I get mad I turn green
nah I'm lying
when I'm mad I burn green and blam steam
or get the animals to cause a stampede Yur Yur Yur
the one and only beast(piece) master
creep after me catch a deep gash heat clap yah Baing
we after the g's like police after us
like eating after bud or sleeping after fucking
or we laugh and just spaz outta no where
while we chock you like how are you supposed to breathe with no air
spark that ass up for real
youze a fucking pill
probably get popped for a dub in the ville
probably get popped for even less out west
ak will make a mess out yah flesh
me I'm the mini shotty murderer
got it in my sleeve let it go
what's it's really like rocking with a g
I can be whipping around with a piff in the pound
who wants to get lifted and grounded
and kicked when he down
you like who wants to be hollerin on some chill shit
hollerin on some real shit
yah nigga
Ruck
You motherfuckers fake
go ahead fucking hate
I smack planes off the buildings
I'm a fucking ape
My last Lp
I wore a fucking cape
your last lp
you wore a fuck it wait
it never dropped
you were never hot
me and rock ready
but they aint ready rock
I sold ready rock
I was small time
I made a small fortune
but it was all mine
I got booted from Judah
from Aruba to Cuba
came home spent the rest of my loot on some supra's
Rock (off Kimbro Price -Abortion)
stop hating on the god
lying liar pants on fire
perpetratin the fraud
the shit you pop doesn't reverberate with god
the eighth shake raise the murder rate Oh my god
listen Ill be the best to do it
repeat I'll be the best to do it
defeat all the rest who knew it
sneak attack eagle eat your back you blew it stupid truth is
P I am smarter then your average
Joe bear or Jesus of Nazareth
battle shit battle ship battle ship? I ain't playing games bitch
gattle click gravel pit that will be your grave bitch
my shit is off the meter off the reefer
awkward I talk with heaters that I walk with
Orthopedic features coffin why because I eat the creatures often abortion
Man, I Hope
Man up, general
As the urban planning trembles
From fear of messiahs and profit.
The man entered with lopsided pedigree
As the man of hopes lies only ahead of me
And I serve him.
Serve you in the great hall
Under the pressure from the two testaments.
A friends a kin
Twice the man you are
Subpar, geoforming our subterranean
The pressure is hazy again.
Point passed the byproduct of two fathers
One in you, the other the constant,
Death is like loneliness
Since both are served with napkins.
The tidal frontier of a rapture.
A new becoming
While others are left fending off unknowings.
Seeds don't mature in every climate unlessed modified.
Not enough bodies to leave multiplied
And each insignia tells us that our fate has crumbled
Cant live in a skin so foreign
A body radiated from the pressure it was born in.
Mutant and special, a decision never left to you,
Discreet screwed a savior is just daily news.
A new planet was just science reminding us
That uniquity is transparent as morals
Dying roses given as a thank you, a gift,
Must be rejuvenated with supreme care.
A little attention and a wisp of touch.
Too much, he gave all but his two thumbs,
And I gave all but my number
Left the job to serve hundreds.
The faces he saw and I witnesses
Were identical.
Correlation showed us tears from incredible men
To transients.
We begged from him and they begged to us.
We all proudly whispered the same prayers.
Do die as I must.
You're all just quasi while I'm viewing you with my God's eye.
Popeye like Prop 8
Fixate on a fixed gear
Elevate next to last year
None of the water is clear
just find a matrimony and put it on auto-steer
because I was never here
hear that, it's thunder
echoing off the clouds giving us rain
drenched my hood, my head and my brain
till three rails led the train to self esteem
a half of me could easily sustain
while a half of you would be missing the sane
and a frame isn't just new parts rearranged
but it's a heavenly body that leads us to our names
and the same is not the same
mimesis isn't to blame
you just need to start reading the damn thing
learn from the past
not the mistakes
be my mimicry
so I can leave you deprived
like my last relationship, parasitic
still want my credit
but you ended it
tether ball next to a tennis court
courtship after a horse whip
flinch next, I'll transmutate to a beast
feeling heat like a snake, eat, prey, sleep, capiche.
Thrown Up
Thrown up on a door step
Wait threw up on a friends bedset
In my sleep, next to me.
Missed my dress shirt and my pants unbuttoned
And unbelted. Passed out while undressing
Face down style. Got moved to the bathroom tile.
Woke up from grin toothed Tim asking if he could use the shower.
Moved again, now to the love seat across from Jon's bare feet.
Sleep till he has to work.
Another day ill have to work.
How did it get to this.
Went to a theater to see a independent feature.
Kings of summer but before I could be crowned
I needed to be served, a red mix with a double of that
With ice and not stirred. Chuckled to the hallway
Drinking with the screen. Drinking next to no one.
Drinking with nothing. Drink to that scene.
Where the protagonist brings his crush to his getaway
But she got away, and gone away with his best friend
Then I held it in, waiting for the conclusion.
Finally I left.
Friend was a block away taking a shower
so I wandered through the downtown
looking to the tops of roofs, all the power
held by years of reluctantly.
We drove down Milwaukee
stopped at Emporium
where they had a bar in an arcade
beat a 94' fan at NBA jam
and then went on to pinball
to spend all my tokens
on bright lights and ac/dc's Hell's Bells.
Saw a friend at New Wave then went to Two Way.
A Pitcher while watching Falling Skies
listen to a barfly tell us about a house party he went to yesterday
that was still going. And how he woke up at 4 in the afternoon
already late, making tourists wait for empensadas.
Two more friends showed up, got a table, did a shot of Malort
Spilled my wallet all over the floor.
Bought a Bloody Mary because I said I would.
Drank it and bought another one because my buddy said he would.
Gave the rest of my money as a tip.
Used my tool kit to fix my buds bike wheel so it would fit in my car.
He drove it back to his apartment, a few blocks, shaking the clutch
after each speed bump. I gave up on my cigarette after I dropped it
sitting in the passenger seat.
Talked about our Spain trip, seeing Barcelona beaches
and tasting Salt water off the Mediterranean coast.
It was my first time.
Then it was my first time I left his side
grew up together but the drama followed and I just left to hide.
It wasn't mine.
Hung out with the other group from Ohio
so he could sort it out but he didn't.
It would of been easier to fin it
and let Madrid become infinite.
It all still followed us home.
I followed him up his stairs back to his home for another year.
Still tired, went to sleep in his bed.
He steered me into his home away from home.
But I still left alone.
Breaking Promises
The numerous words sprouted from a tongue
just to twitch, to stay in an action,
to let motion verbalize
but,
it's only a sound that reverberates
like a pet that was dropped off at an apartment complexes parking lot
for good.
The clicks of each syllable shades into noise,
an effect that hears forward
but,
stays stuck in a bubble
goes up, the only ears that react are the one's that know better
then to predict such a false statement.
Vowels keep rising, breaking promises,
into the spatial movement above our heads
underneath the circuity of ideas
but,
at least it was said
consonants being bred to lighten up futures
they sink, before sail, waiting for a tempted response
stuck still, pleading with proven paths.
Indifferent, comfort isn't a place
just a state. Next to complacency.
Ahead of self-entitlement.
Each sentence they said fell flat
worse then farm fields
disrespectful for the research
all these schools could pass on you
It's not where you're at now
but a decision to educate each work you ever created
because it's all whole
and dreams aren't just for sleep
a way to only analyze your fiction
but,
they could be here, and before, and diffidently ahead.
Don't just go to where you can settle
a gutter between the cushion seats
you need to pick one or the other,
the area where you set yourself to
or the next illustration.
Draw it yourself
and fill in your characters speech bubble.
Talk only got us to our vocal chords,
the dialect hasn't adapted to intelligence
and your visibility is slowly fading into transparency.
Each statement muttered under flung tongues
shouldn't be repeated but held as one.
A proposition can easily be steam
or solid as a language understood.
But,
your lips get in the way,
the external becomes your falsehood
since it's easier to write, and each letter
can be re-stated, but that push from
written to spoken should mature
like our lives from nature.
Parking Lot Getaways
The field used to be a prairie. Native plants grew before and after wild fires grew rampant to naturally select the weeds from the local. Wildlife occured, flocking to the marshes, swimming down the streams and prancing through the tall grass left untrimmed. Each year the process repeated itself, giving each living thing a determined path to take each maturation period. The fields grew and push the boundaries of survival. Population grew, variation grew, age grew too.
Then the lines begin to take from the land. It started with just dirt creating partitiions in the grass. Seperating one side of the field from the other. Then another path would interesect, creating segregation between the fields. Nature was getting approached upon and a species unlike their own started plotting the land. This was for them, this for their friends, that for their family. The growth of the field couldn't sustain and it started looking inwards. The plants condensed and other just packed up and left. They let their seeds fall victim to the wind to find remaining fields.
The field made a decision. Other then letting their byproduct leave their community, they needed to condense. The outskirts of their land was being used elsewhere away from their discretion. The snakes had to live next to the rats nest and not overcome the pressure to deplete all their resources. Each part had a signifigance, it was an ecosystem. The closer they all lived, next to their enemies, laying against the irritable, walking from their young, the more variation sprouted. Adapatation made the animals specificy their purpose. The ducks had to start leaving and only came back home during vacations or when the water was warm enough. The bird followed. The snakes had to dig holes and hide from the enviroment that they once were a part of. Once scales were red and blue but now just shades of green.
The area started to become more conglomerated. Not only were individual settlers were coming over but whole communities. They were heading out west to free land just bought from Napolean. The land that once remained sanctive now was a place of democratic capitalism. Foreign plants were being forced into the ground, being worked by foreigners, that were seperating the natives from each other. The little blue stem had to move east while the sedge left for the northland. These non-native plants became argiculture, not particularly for the community, but most importantly, for the grain stock exhance in Chicago where they could sell it around the country.
These new settlers pledged for a train station that would help them visit the exchange and place bets on future prices for their crops. Once the train station was placed, the suburbs were created. The surrounded area became convuluted with summer homes and families looking for a quieter neighborhood then the booming city landscape that was ever-changing. Just like the burn that kept out the weeds and evasive plants that cycled once a year in the prairies, the same occured in Chicago. The wooden infrastructures, the buildings off of buildings, closely stacked on and off one another were swept away in ashes.
More and more left, leaving the city for castaways and the poor. The field wasn't a field anymore but a park. The area wasn't left for salvation but because it was too hard to be built on. The soil was too soft from it's state of being a wetland and the terrain surrounding the field was hilly and bumpy. The dirt roads quickly became pavement, cemented into the ground underneath like a bonding agent. These will be here forever, first just single lane, then suicide lanes, until four lane highways emerge letting the settlers quickly spread as soon as they look at a compass and an atlas.
After the land was divided up between the vacationers and the new locals, the remaining field stood firm. Since it was open, respectfully away from the humans but close enough for revenue, corporations started scowering the area. They looked at the dirt, checked the trees for tags, and even dug far enough to see what was in the mantle.
The neighbors peaked from their fences, the immigrants were sweating in the tall grass trying to rinse their faces in the bellowing creek, and the ground was being mixed from bottom to top and placed willynilly. The fertile soil left replaced with pipes and steam rusted machinery churning through the plains until the land was deemed useless. Only the wild grass growing over the working immigrants heads could hide the refutable damages. The field lay enclosed, surrounded by the tormenters, looking out their backyards at a barren mass left unnamed.
Until things changed, a century after the arrival of settlers to the region. The government intervened and started securing property to be allocated to the preservation of the natural beauty of the areas. The beauty that subsidized the area for millenia, the was left untouched by the inhabitants before the settlers, the nomads just strode through, while the settlers struck down. The barren mass, the remanined field now shriveled to a tenth of the degree of what it was, is now being propagated and protected just right after profit was marginalized from the underground resources. Trails were pathed around the creek and through the forests. The architecture left, old cabins withering away from shallow abandonment, windmills left upright only for the hikers to watch spin and spin. Nature dwindled down to a low that is now average. The only inhabitants are wanderers, natures nomads.
***
Gravel covers the immensive lot. After it sits, then pavement is poured evenly on top of the gravel. Each rock that formed the gravel is now smothered with a hot surfacer to allow for a steady park. As soon as the pavement becomes poured, it's already getting pressed as tightly as it can into the gravel and, into the level below the rocks, into the earth. This is repeated until the 100 yard by 50 yard area is complete. That task takes a good weathered weekend to be completed. It sits and stays flat for decades until the retail location is moved down the road into a friendlier, modern design.
The building now looks liks a rectangle from the clouds. From a far it just looks like a twenty foot walled behemoth. From an outsider (one that has never seen a retail store), they would think this was a warehouse. To a person that isn't aware of a warehouse, it would just look like an un-needed amount of space for anything but a cult's living facility. But this is where we shop and do plenty of other things that have nothing to do with shopping. You can never be closer to a stranger then parking next to five of them in a parking lot.
There are thirteen yellow longitudual lines all branded with a corresponding letter from the alphabet. Each line has twenty five latitidual lines intersecting them. This gives each row 50 parking spots per row and 650 places to park throughout the whole lot. These lines eventually needed to be repainted one row at a time every two years. The yellow begins to get ripped away by hot rubber. The flourescent element given to each paint stripe begins to fade due to half life and night/day. Seagulls when hungry enough will peck at the paint as if it was tape as if either one was edible under any circumstance. These seagulls eventually fly into spinning mechanical windmills that provide electricity. The electricity makes the steel giant hum which puts the community surrounding these benefactors in a dual state; one loving the hum that puts them to sleep like a lullaby being spoken through your grandmother's mouth after chocolate chip cookies and milk or they hate the hum like the resonance sound of a hundred flourescent light bulbs that have no power switch nearby. The bulbs are engineered to burn out while off, during the day, to not inconveniece the slew that speed through during the convenant third shift.
A crew with nothing better to do, the less hygenic, the workers clueless to the encompassing punishment of slacking throughout the night. Vitamin C is given by the sun but the moon absorbs yours. Watching the stars wink at you and leave horizons over the time of a few construction seasons. No shirts tucked in, the slip under the easel of peoples, that can never leave their ever-enclosed space of sleep, since their time is of the night and the world runs off the sun and it's easy to see navigability. It's split between loners who need money for a recreational bathtub mix of narcotics to shade the sun coming through the blindless window, the family-goers working around their signifigant other's work schedule to nap with the kids as they wonder what their mother does that's needs to be done while everyone is busily sleeping.
Customers bringing packs of sleepless similiars, howling as they grab for moonpies, as they stare waiting to shop for that necessity of a post-midnight snack frozen pizza combo brownie pack only sold in select, delicate markets. If organics are sold, calories are burned, to consume the high grade, complex molecular make-up of the binge worthy tasty mix of meats and pre-packaged, self-replicating foodstuffs.
The one's still taking the trail from wetland to grossly oversized consumption headquarters are vagrants and volunteers. The vagrants walk along the highway interstate known by their odd numbers. They pass by tall grass as a means to evaluate wind direction to circumvent their caloric intake. Watching retail mass and parking lot turmoil pass, then empty lots still looking for competitive edge, onto strip malls littered between these coves, finally finding the place that serves the cheapest coffee with a place to meet and greet and most importantly seat. Finding others just like them, lost in the abandoment of steady jobs and fruitless responsibility. The previous yesterday was just like the present. After greetings they studied laborlessly at the local library's computer screens trying to find the next neighborhood to squat at. One of the loners got taken up by a racoon family but he was unaware that he was actually talking about a opossum tribe. They all toothlessly grin and rest their heads on the nearest surface to succumb to a sailor's sleep.
Then, while the vagrants go for a stroll to the next hospitable business, the volunteers come out of the estranged spectrum. The one's that need to spend their time in idle find the necessity of their needs far outweighs their civil duty as wholesale citizens. Most without families, the lapluster soul found love in the family of ecosystem, and already capitalistically retired. They hobble around on their found canes out in the tall grass looking through bird houses and snake dens and counting the numbers. Watching the youth that nostalgically was diverse seriouslly plummet from the hungry and opportunists.
Finally the land was sold, changing hands from government to corporation, cuffed sleeves interacting, to the one promising to do the least. Proctection is just a word uttered from the new land owners to the community. The one's that breath the sacred of native want to know how our heritage will stay in the culture, removed farther from
Genre Specific
Simply Peachy
Your skin is like a white flesh peach
paired well next to top sirloin beef
and if we have to be discreet
publicly I'm impeached
sitting on a beach on beach street
drinking muai thai, reading a juniper leaf
waiting for the corner store
to sell cornicopia's
so I can just hold it firm
for a sinner's birth
under a minute's turn
while the winter's worm
burrows surely for another term.
Fruit flies displace before hands decay
so they can't interface with another oil barrel race
and items stack up, while images get backed up
on hard drives, cursing about apartheid
but consistently never lived it,
pdfs beat spreadsheets in another scrimmage
as the sale today is trimmed, green cabbage
I'll have to take another vacation
as a phantom to just fathom
why my opinions are soaked in broth
served with bread crumb croutons
spiced with thyme and a coupon
cut out from an advert calendar
selling photographs where the booths gone.
The line is too busy looking at screens
to form a circle, lights flash forward
waiting for the next Big Three
jump the line and still wait hopelessly.
Statements, that's my favorite
wonder where the hours went, into entertainment
they absorbed me like the magazines still stale photographs
still absorbed me
and I read and read and read, waiting for the stars story
to intertwine between my capillaries
but they only crawled as slow as a caterpillar
buried by milkweed
grossly disporportionate to it's seed size
while the soil performs sourly
I'm only hourly
so I sit, proud to be.
Simply Compound
Remember when we seemed fine
we laid bordered on a thin line
and without time?
The memory of a back nine
where you shot par, and you shot mine
the placement of a tee with enough sun
to cause misery, the ball teetered unevenly simply.
The grass felt repetetive
wheels spun on edges again
while plagiarism was my ramptant twin, she said
and we went back, to the wine and cheese
watched mature men pick crackers from their teeth
and the sound dink made us think one of us was taking another drink
so we glanced at eachother, made loud noise,
said capiche in our french voice
we had a choice so we held each other in the rotating doors
around and around
the sound funnelled through the town
where the night calmed down,
winter whimpered wishing whispers
street sweeped, mind weak, my week.
thighs creak once we hit pavement
and the Darkness left the moon light
nothing but amazing
shining through fog on one hazy street
which left the endless streak of cars a little crazy.
because, you see, each sedan snapped like a photograph
and the next one already sped past before the last one was time stamped
and headaches started to emerge, under false intertia
fell folding facsmile, motion moved me, file denial under M
and watch the watch watching, peak idealistically
waiting for every wedding to end vicariously.
Simply Detailed
The pavement paned with hairline fractures
cracks that bore through the road
misdirecting traffic to the terminal of the static.
The knick grew from tire pressure
into a hole, a tiny area where that the tadpoles stole
until they got splashed out by the consistency of a wheels roll.
Two median yellow congruent lines split
and dashed while clashing with the thick
nurturing through the street,
laid sloppily like a splash to a wash
each end finished with a crash.
Boundaries borderless, white chalk chaotically under ordinance,
but when the coupe tried to pass, his fishing poles fell out of his storages
because his wheel walls hit grass from the decayed white discouragement
then the steering went abrupt, the wreckless stability turned the bar back to tar.
Can't decipher if it's blocks or jagged, if it's time to cut back or
speed up to ravage, but the window was savaged with muddy water superstition,
thought the lanes were taller, but a flood starts on the ends,
so I cut back behind, trail far from mine; original position.
Simply Beautiful or Dribble. Better, yet, both.
Each word is wisdom, passed down from long lineages
the tree branches our splitting again
the word wasn't supposed to be there
and these were never meant to be heard
just filler
just filler her with ideas that you want to want to mean
but you're mean and mean
you didn't want it to be true
stroke slow down to her navel, orange
I'm naive when i'm thornless
Born with it,
now I'm here trying to forget it
I think the pot hurt my head
and all I want to do is absorb into a bed
with a soda and roof over my shed.
Words are only on purpose if they are rough drafts
and anger doesn't leak it drifts like a raft
follow the current and you'll be a present like the current
and have the worst things to say
because saying got easier then not
anonymous like you're no more
until the structure to what you're saying is no more
and I can't tell if you're a compulsive liar
or just an experience thriver
an anti-cadaver, staying leaps and bounds from death
like you're not timed, playing chess
template to a strategy, design the monogamy
till a pedigree turns to a prodigy.
I thought this would be easier
but now my keyboard rests on my pillow
still though, it's just lines on pixels
and all I can say to all my friends is that I miss you
stretch the coasts, the only way we can be together
is if we roast these coffee beans and spectate off our old material and boast
and I always wished friends were forever
but now that I can't see through the weather
and the weather outside is identical to what it was a decade ago
and your weather is different, and not what it used be
I see that we might be free
free from each other
and just know that I love you
and I loved her
have fun in the sunny weather
and whether or not I love again
it doesn't really bother me
because I've always stuck myself in a basement
so I can surround myself with my interests
and be stuck, only seeing the limits that I allow myself
the ceiling is pretty much at my height
and I knock my head on my hanging microphone
and my belts are draped over metal piping
and they fall daily
the space falls on top of me and I indulge
in the nothings, catch up on my shows
until new ones come out then I add more to the rotation
and multiply the artists that I've forgotten about
because I'm still exploring other musicians
and genres, then I don't have any cd's to put the music on
so I make some, and go out and buy another stack
and run out of room to keep them in my car.
I can't talk or text for a long duration
I'm not smart, I don't have a smart phone
I just use my bones to write sentences out to no one,
I feel, I feel like, I feel bad
My car smells stale
it's where I smoke and there is nowhere to escape the exhale
I'll escalate when it's the right date
die before I transcend into the next state
say hey to my brother in another state
won't move, got too much food on my dinner plate.
I'm a man of the moment
but, man, I'm hopeless
shouldn't have drinken those mimosas
after my tenured expulsion
it was just a silly explosion
the type that feeds off memories that are erroded.
the first one fell into my lap like a lap dog
the women after that, that I chased, seemed to run away
fuck it, I need my space
FUCK it, I'm alive i'm not trying to win some race
sitting in my den, same room as my bed
Now I'm just stuck with this pen
and I lost in this pen.
Financial obligations, pre-internet enslavement, time capsule repulsed, rearrange them
so cold don't want to change my clothes
hanging out in my work uniform
hugging on the first breath
light on a lemon
get something off my chest
I vaporize
Actually, smoke out of pipe tobacco pipe
so I can feel mega man's spikes
on my throat
so cold, don't take my black gloves off
typing for ambition
won't be no where, where's the transition?
sifting through the wrapped presents
like where's the tradition?
Ugly sounds so beautiful
before I cut my cuticles.
Play me some noise
is no one what they never said
been in love this entire time
And Christmas came tomorrow
it would be a different day
follow the fallen
basement dwellers turned off
I broke the sound, finally.
or was it just my computer.
you could hear it
but no one never ever said that.
Still gone from Saturday
catch me in a few weeks
Love came easily and spontaneously. It was like sucking emissions from a muffler. You can either do it willfully and pucker your lips to rattling metal,
or you can just drive behind it and yell about it every time the car takes off.
Do it or don't, but don't be wrapped up in the middle wanting to go either direction.
all the white space under your tires, like snow, like air, like friction
can be your only ticket out of here
so either you can find a way to go like bring on the ambition
or float
at least failing admits to change
but to float is to withhold progression.
It doesn't hurt to shower for awhile and it certainly doesn't mean anything.
Each hair is like a wall of defense, never a filament of fiction,
you get what you see, never what you want to become,
it wasn't that easy, shame on you.
And I'm back at it again,
It's like smoking pot in the back with a hospice bed playing scratch off lottery,
your hands, massaging, felt like you were making pottery.
verse one;
How does one rap?
it's like brap brap, oh shit like BRACK BRACK
GUN SHOTS
AHH DON'T HIT ME
With a Four FIVE, I GOT THREE FITTY
a Bunch of MEMES, Why you shittin
Who you buckin'
With only 8 Minutes of Light Left.
Karen leaves Dave to the living room television where Charlie Sheen is counting down the seconds to the "End of Light." Karen walks out the front door and plans to get into her sedan and drive off in search of others just like her. But ends up just walking while occasionaly looking up into the sky where the light originates from.
A man across the globe is disappointed. He won't get to witness the last minutes of light because it's already dark where he is. The night will only stay off, he says. The Night will only turn into darkness, he corrects himself.
The man who stayed outdoors his whole life became afraid. The light that lit his sunset was now waning, the heat he once adored was slowly fading. After his friend Steve told him the news and made him coercisively point up to our Father, he walked away and went inside. The paths he hiked simmered in his memory, the long stares at coyotes through thin brush stained in his blinks. Nature was terrifying, The Nocturnals now owned the system.
Two young room mates passing the time on school break (in the spring). One man, the other female, never fully knew eachother before becoming residents together. They still didn't have the time, busy with school and the myriad of extra curriculms that plague the soul. They watch together now on the couch embracing, the rays seperately shining through their living room window hitting old wooden floor boards. The closer the darkness comes, each minute reverently next, they began to sqooch closer and closer. Words weren't uttered but their only one way to make a son when another dies out.
A worker was working. He asked his boss if he could take his break a tad earlier to enjoy his last cigarette in sunlight. Maybe it could have been his last one all together, he's been thinking about quitting for 5 years but never tried. Maybe this last one. But his boss said no, so he went back to stocking.
A farmer cried. First because he's been farming his whole life, a break from the nonstop work seemed delightful. Then the tears really symbolized his lossed earnings. All his crop was premature. The leafs still bulging, the fruit still green, across the field. The only crop that can flourish off this neverending night are fungi. They would grow and grow until finding the nearest light source. Would the moon still help us find our way? The mushrooms would grow bigger then us, and bacteria that thrives off of it, usually not much bigger then a cell would also grow tenfold being the size of us. Bacterium roaming around in the dark, snatching our shrooms up.
The astronomer watched the sun spots on the sun flare for the last time, the solar flares pounced off the core and lusted for it's next victim and almost reached mercury. The rest of the fire sizzled and he thought he could see bubbles and steam rise from new white dwarf. Only for minutes. This is the first time he can ever question seeing an action that didn't exist. Others are looking at it with a regular telescope but they are tweeting that the sun is still visible, it's another hoax like y2k and 2012/12/21 and everything else. But they still only take the light that is being directed to us. Radio telescopes are our only choice.
The protester held his placard, shoving it in the strangers faces commuting to and from work and pleasuire. Hardly any eyes viewed the message, that the Food Bank was storing their food for their own personal gain. The food that was donated, the countless cans that have no logical expiration date, the dried goods still good for a few years. Even the perishables if stored right had months left to live on. The protestor almost was getting violent with his sign, screaming, eyes bulged out with only deaf ears and blind eyes to no placate. One women did look but she was too busy taking a photograph of the sun's reflection off a skyscraper to actually slow down and converse. The protestor broke.
Of course some had sex. Couples left the lights on for the last time. They still had sex under covers. They were breathing each others breath, watching how the light changed from each position they could fit in an eight minute stretch. The single ones with no one to see naked for the first and last time left their rooms aimlessly. Their eyes grew, thinking about the few moments that were waning away, and fewer then the some thought back at the their last time intimacy was physical in their lives. It made them feel as if the last few months they were in a closet where the string to the light was long but too far away.
The conspiracy theorist passed down his knowledge. He said the sun has already been out for years but this was the best time to close down the Earth like those stores that only close their doors on x-mas. But this was different, they were closing like those super markets that get beaten out by competitors, or like those stores that get shut down because they were illegal. Everything will eventually close he says but it was already obvious. Not only was he telling the truth but he was slurring trying to make the logical seem unhypothetical. Everyone infront of his megaphone already knew. The theorist wasn't aware but just stating swallowed assumptions.
Karen found a sidewalk and galivanted on it. She spun around as the snow fell. She was only in a blouse and some fuzzy slippers. The flakes fell down her shirt and got stuck in her curly, auburn hair. Other neighbors were leaving their abodes too. They found out they should walk to. Some even got in their sedans and slowly putted away.
The satellite took pictures. The truists watched in their closets from their monitors the internet stream. The sun flickered like an lightbulb on a string in basement that hasn't been used in years or like a headlight be slammed into a brick wall. Off then on then off forever shattered. In the picture, the frames that brought together a second, you could see the warmth of light leave this now pit of darkness. The light leapt and continued through the negative space. Each second leaving the next but the light travelled in all directions like a candle in the middle of a lifeless room. All was light for the end and the end came soon after.
Polite Politics
I fiend for the Entertainment
I absorb this culture
I call House of Cards
A house of cards;
nomenclature.
I pity the pulse.
I watch the file restore.
The torrent takes hold
as the Peers hold hands.
It's done, drag
watch bits turn to a sight
just something to watch
another relic
that delivers my time in place.
She didn't even notice
she just kept walking,
didn't see me staring,
terminal was like a funnel
where's my tunnel
no one to console her
explore my options
run for rotten
it's okay
I've seen it often
glossy paperback
resting underneath
a plate full of dinner's scraps
blunt edge, hedge fund
counted out a hundo
only one number
ended; robbin' rice
ice turns to shrapnel
belt loop too thick
tie it to a sand hill
that's a classy crane
underwear stains
removed prized fluids
through hulu hooped
telecommuters.
Now that I bought you
It's over
folded loosely like a cabbage door
whip the package poor
pack it raw
crayfish with burnt sticks
you're a little wet
watching photoed palominos
prance to pedaled organs
tie off for the hope again
bottom of the barrel, leader of the rope
jumped over a pit fall
lumpy version, watch my urine
piss, fall
hearse verse; bye tie dye blood, withdrawal
The day lost,
wind blew clouds over the sunset
snow storms before sun rise
and while the filth
whisper "compromise"
they look each other in the eyes
and determine it's just not worth it.
It's half over, lunch wasn't served
without a purpose
now what's with the service
took too long for each end
from the shakes to sweaty palms
to the over stretched psalms
hanging low like the pigeon
or a doe
dead like a sapien
ends meat, look towards the end of the street
where the youngsters meet
between the two dumpsters,
call it a hapless streak
from the weak to the terminal
call me dead when i'm asleep
I'm in a serpentine position
caught my body in a disposition
till all loose ends equate to wisdom
i'm sinning
till the holy ghost gets caught up
and starts back at the beginning
like I can finally say I'm sorry
this isn't a parry
just a last call
this is the day, the moment, where the night falls
and each star stalls on one another
all the bright lights turn towards one
and the sun, tries to look in the direction of it's mother
but doesn't bother.
You're the offender
call me prissy please
she sulked but seemed pretty pleased
opened up those nifty knees
with the force of a few men
like lumberjacks taking out a row of trees
now I'm me
duplication under annihilation
sent frustration over the bridge
to my past tensed pirated nation
call that my brain wave
only gets paved with the machinery
of 19th century slave trade
boats on boats
I keep my yacht in the opponents moat
so I can get high on high hopes
while I get high and listen to this new pope
but the rope drags on the ceramic floor
and each door opens in opposite direction
say to me "I would love you if you can
reanimate your files extension"
but I can't
wasn't that a fucking blessing?
Now I'm upset again
wondering where the floor mats went again
every one that enters my room tracks
water that form puddles do the uneven cement
and now my socks are wet
and the second bathroom floods
and the water creeps through the ceiling
to my quarters in the basement
this is where I live
doesn't it drive you ape shit?
at least it's safe from the soul-less vapors
that leave you strung out
over gates and rapiers,
and yes, I might be that failure
but I'm nailed to a pallet
with broken splinters
and I get stacked
even throughout the cold of winter
so simmer
you heard me,
you already know you're a winner
so don't look for advice
don't put your ear to timber!
because a slice of bread,
is only given by people with
half a head,
and what do you want to
be when you grow up?
look I'm already grown up
yah fuck.
Blood from my chin
dripping through my chest hair
in the shower, after shaving.
Twin blades, try to flex and stare
only see rust on linoleum and mildew
on the ceiling.
Wash my ass with a rag
receive back a gift of
shit, blood and stains.
Pressure isn't enough
to do any job thorough
so I push down the plug
and rinse my hair
in this bath tub furrow.
Watch the suds spiral the drain,
hardly pass through
hair clogs it, makes it strain.
Brush my teeth
I can't say the least
some more blood
I eat sugar every day
maybe brush once a week.
At least I have clean ears.
Hidden by the curls of my hair
tried to talk myself into flossing
but the mirrors steamy
and I don't feel like witnessing carnage
I said I don't feel like being hurt
for the next hour
sell the power, the shower hardly works
we never needed running water.
A new rise,
probably not,
new things,
probably so,
starving artist,
probably not.
Audience is what you make it.
Performance is how you decide to express it.
We all have the same stories
just different dialects to tell them in.
Different sentences to exaggerate,
words to stress
or to edit out.
Honesty is only with the one's you want to trust.
I would move if I wasn't wearing concrete wings.
I would tell you if I wasn't afraid of the consequences.
I would share but I don't want to be critiqued.
So I throw it up in space
watch the stars, each one another thing to create
another point of reference to trace.
Give me a second and I'll give you one back too.
Impossible is nothing
Impossible is nothing
Impossible is nothing.
The thin chain around the young woman's porcelain neck was chinked.
She galivanted unknowingly
but the observers at the party watched.
It was funny to most.
No one said anything, to concur that that is what they were chuckling about.
I just sort of knew.
Eyes traced around the room trying to shoot down the luxury.
People listened closely, taking every word out of context, so they could bring down the status quo. They wanted to feel special but also tell us how America is just a sophisticated social caste way harsher then India.
Way harsher then the cold up in Northern Canada.
Way colder then the nips on the women who forgot that March can get be below zero.
And it can snow, you're leather jacked now looks leopard print.
I'll leave after all of you because I can still smell the food cooking in the Kitchen.
If you want to find me, I'll be on the back porch smoking cigs
looking through the back yard for some Truer Religion.
Peace be with you,
pieced together with glue
taken off the excess with a few tissues.
Now their stuck to the paper
modern arraignments,
stained from use, blew my nose
now the approach is exposed.
Purposeful meetings, met up,
children still teething while the ball game is tied
no body is ever winning.
All my friends tell me to keep it simple
next time do it solo
but it's harder then ever, so I make it poly
I ghosted from the roach
my father collects cock roaches
and I'm stoked to have a ceiling.
It might be underneath two more
and my feet rest on vinyl above a cement floor
but at least they laid me in the foundation,
symbolic restoration, hopefully I'm still their favorite.
Pot holes stuck in pavement, every winter
is only harsh from the spring tones
might react to psuedo clones
posting from their smart phones.
Where's the communication?
They took a derivative to basic
and took themselves out, now all talk is cheap
and static and self empathetic.
No one does it for you anymore
because it's just me, me me,
and why we live in threes
counting the wood lost
it's just all becomes a chore
if it's not entertainment,
it's self-deprecation
masked in frustration.
Waiting is the new wind for patience
another win, sitting staring
watching the electric blues
it's sacred,
Don't ever let the strangers know
they will think you're naked
I'll just clutch the fingers in my hand
check out my wrinkles
make 'em think I'm taken
but I'm waiting, I'm waiting
patiently painting pain
but in the picture
the train was going the opposite way
of the brain
I guess I'm just waiting to be arranged
stacked in some omni-direction
just not on this plane
and hopefully the lane is more then a two way
because, we should only ever have two ways.
But it's Tuesday
And I couldn't see the stars
because the moon threw it's glow
and if a person tells you they
"rather be left alone"
tell them they is plural
and you'll show them a new home.
The wash of jet fuel and plutonium seem slightly beautiful next to the antennas broadcasting news stations.
The communication fell or was cut off like insects mandibles too close to child's scissors
And it was only a pleasure cardinal feathers dropped after generations had to move
After lawn mowers ate their nests.
No child left behind to protect
Liquidation like the mothers regurgitation after an unsuspected morning drizzle.
All grass was green but I still had to sleep for work.
Run off drains like run down sentences parked parallel
Next to home owners new landscapers
Sky tapered a close
But green eyes opened in the dark silhouettes only shown
By passing cars and lit up on ramps.
Going till tranny cant move forward any more.
Next stop the waste is held down by latex bags and the roads cant be tampered with.
The show starts later then arrival walk to see bus drivers rivals
The gawkers and back packers
You'll fall in love with it here
The environment not the sheeple
Run down cathedrals and run off loners
Only talking to try and remember
The day they were like that squatter
But its no bother
Listen like a brother but walk on the other side of the street
Pick up a few paragraphs to quickly read
Hope the intersection is here after the film
So the car has a place to stay side street inferior
When I leave it behind a few dead bushes
On lasalle and superior.
The Interim before here into now.
The proceedings only led us to a line
That looked like it formed far too early by fans
with nothing better to do on a mild Saturday afternoon.
A tall glass before two shows.
Wait to enter to wait.
A spacious spot becomes crowded
As the crowd sits in the grass until the act appears.
The herd shuffles pushing ahead
Switching from front to back
Side to side until the stage can finally be seen.
Use the supports that have waited in the same spot
Before either band.
Lights blare strobe visceral
clap for the guy no one knows
Two step to his Rhodes songs
And adjust frequencies to over hear the casual conversations
Coming from all directions and the stagnant distractions.
Photos taken in the heat of fog while the sun was behind the stage
All blur and no experience revealed but a ghost withdrawal
An event that was observed not enhanced by silly media storage
look back to remember a moment you were planning to view in the future.
Stale notes sang while foots were stomped and hair smelled while jiving in an enclosed space growing and contracting
New bodies appeared and went with the tide of age. Smoke blown
Roamed the audience until hands waved or hands held up to snap another photo.
Line of sight blocked but we're here for the music
rumbling from the enclosure
Hear to listen and process
And transmit the notes into the origin of the wave
And glance and the buoys disruption
Enjoy what the wind that Jimmy made.
A Short One
A hug like a dent,
whatever,
Just walk the state.
Been waiting to smoke cigarettes.
Imagination in the dress circle
Cant visualize the far back or right side.
Not out on business
Take a smoke, a pass, and a lighter.
Walk to my car.
Downtown doesn't get darker.
Drive towards Logan
No passenger,
Just pass the trucks on the shoulder
And smoke a pipe.
High tides and no time
Follow mental topography
Get lost and find myself by Depaul, mementos sloppily
Passing the same Uhaul station I drove by at six
Late to pick her up by a half
because I drove same to see his new love,
old ex,
now an exit
Low lines and fine dine
Adjust, rewind, compensate expenses.
No further reactions surface.
Sleep on couches
Wake up always perfect.
Teen-O-Rama
The sunlight rises the breeze away
While Angelo runs out of his town house
to feel his scooters wheels on the pavement.
Going on a routine run, Johnny's on his way passing
The upperclassmen with their leather stuck Letterman jackets.
They ride in unison picking up steam one foot off the side like a balance beam.
Holli's the outlaw is on the next block not far,
While she finishes her chores waiting to hear the familiar knock of johnny's two taps on the front door.
Shes joins them with the wind, yesterday she missed them.
Onto the next girl, hiding behind a curved staircase is the talking Trista
holding her finger up to Holli so she can sit and wait.
Take off on back alleys towards freedom that only parting clouds could achieve.
The rest of the dozen find the flock.
Devon found loni, the twins beano and fattie waited by a curb,
Adam joined alone, Gregory had to catch up too busy playing his portable.
Adam gets smacked to last by the Mohawked Elle,
Te team from Heavenwhistle.
Chit chatting in a backyard, questioning Angelo being a Mexican.
Ethnicity formulating their individuality,
the twins are Ricans but all Americans in a suburban americana
with nowhere better to be but under a bridge between alleys in between fields,
waiting for the geriatrics to leave their breakfast coffee at the teenagers cafe.
Pancakes make their rounds,
brunch turned into their last supper before high school resumes.
The sun becomes high noon
as the sailing of napkin wrappers squeals like native great northern loons.
An invitation passed through social media from unknown Molli to snub nosed Johnny. Out in the middle of nowhere where red barns
are only adjacent to large farms.
All the kids work on sketches of a college sophomores
clad attraction but its misdirection jealousy
in the group leads a few to the bathroom for some adolescents retrospective.
The others just play a game of ragtag tag.
Road trip lead their scooters to a mall strip
where group fragments into a game of an outlandish costume party
waiting for the time to spark.
Angelo spots his crush, perfect Persephanie Marx,
across the hall, still, at the mall,
the twins playing twister in a quaint fitness store,
Gelo turns jello but he can't reverberate with Mimis younger sister.
He faints easily falling into the foundation.
The rest hold him up and splash fountain water on the boy.
But Phil pulls the attention from the comatose and the bonded
by popping a boner and the friends chuckle and forget about the true loner.
They smell the remnants of dried pot leaves stashed away as
Trista brings her friend Persephanie over to say hey.
Broken ice by stoner niceties, lets toke so our minds can break like yolk.
They ride to find a spot to lock down but no one can catch or catch up to Phil.
Hes too busy racing to get blazed. A show off,
the weed resembles moss.
Angelo finishes his ride with a glance that stayed longer than a stare towards sephie. His look that turns your hearing into impaired.
Wait till seven,
something special sent from a text from heaven.
Time to kill before a real party, the group sits for munchies, all thirteen waiting for ice cream patiently starving.
Catch the drowsing sun for their last solid break,
run through the sand simultaneously
until they can into the waves that break.
Angelo uses his arms sparingly trying to catch himself
before he sinks like a bag of bricks but sephie comes alone to show him personally a few tricks.
Throw a ball around, one to another,
everyone catches it even Angelo whose now hoisted on Adams shoulders.
Now they get out of the water
about to pass a hail Mary toward the side,
Angelo takes off in applause,
until the change in tide.
An upperclassmen takes the arm of the throwers, Johnny,
and dangles it around spinning Johnny like a ballet dancer
calling him a tenderfoot so they can all recluse into their hobbies.
The varsity plays the group like the blues,
they want the information to the party and
they all knew these guys were bad news.
Johnny takes a wave of embarrassment for his team
yelling I'm a little tenderfoot
as the varsity students cheer under a veil of heightened self esteem.
Half of them split up,
one to a quinceanera at a park,
the other at a playground park sparking up the last of weed
as they laugh their asses into the grass.
Angelo wakes up from a daydream
to find everyone else fell fast asleep.
But by his surprise he catches Sephies eyes as she pulls him off
under a tree to sip some tecate with the breeze.
Both gulping the brown liquid with a bitter face
sephie presses her lips to Angelo's while they embrace.
An extra set of hands to help with his glasses,
they knock heads,
stop and notice being watched by the masses.
The final ride through a country road
they spot the barn after passing two or three common folk.
The fields are massive,
the great plains unmatched next to radiating sunset.
They see a few cows, horses, two pigs and more sheep
but no one is around, no party,
just a chickens peep
and some corn to reap.
No one fusses,
everyone eases back
and looks up
to the stars
to take the whole world back.
Transcribed Freestyle from 2009 Heltah Skeltah Freestyle on Lun5.com
Ruck (Sean Price)
Big Bang Theory hear thee
Sean Born
Fresh out my mom's pussy
Sean Born Porn
Sean long gone
somebody bring him back
he's moving to fast
somebody bring him crack
he's moving even faster
somebody bring him dope
fucked up in the dirt
somebody bring him soap
clean up my act, write a few violent songs
but they wack like glen rice with the new balance on
Dominique Warbrookes Sean P war crooks
in castle and smack who ever give long looks
baffle, the mind rhyme design is outland
like coppin' coke from papi not understanding spanish
understand the damage of the incredible ruck
puff steam get green squint in your shit get bust
tough, tonka truck 4 by 4, guns out you're rubbed out
all out war
Rock
You can find me drinking wine in Amy Winehouse's house
with a different type rod pipe in her mouth
yeah I said it
scared niggers think but say
I'm frankie lymon
why do these birds sing so gay
I'm new york grittiest city slicker
you're the new worlds shittiest 16 spitters
get these niggers the fuck away from me
no watch ya'll move baing
blood on the wall like pigs and rats die move
I know, I'm a star I'm a star but I'm a start niggers
whippin and shiftin off of their businesses
It's like I'm fucking with the k k k
I hate these niggers, I'll break their face
roaches to ak raid
spray out of your range bodies
you'll got guns that will sleep you like
da dadad dadad yah mean
I don't even have to merk you
I'll have Sean P (Ruck) punch your gums out like stride commercials
Ruck
I'll be the fear factor
the rapper, come back here
smack your ear
take your jack career
and smoke the clear rapper
punk sweet your food
lunch meat I'm rude
dump heat
leave your slump sleep
nigger your through
fuck you and the crackers that own you
I own two guns that'll pop off your crown and dethrone you
abdul jabbar muggsy malone you
I don't know what that means
but you know what I means when I told you
I'm old school
new school
I'm a drop out
got my g.e.d.
back in the game now
pull your guap out
opt out your contract
pop out the chromes
clap a nigger Baing
let the motherfuckers know that seans back
my president is black
the cocaine is white
the nine nickel plated
the nigger fixing to fight
Sean Price a mother fucking
mother fucker, motherfucker
Rock
Back from the scene
it's the incredible one man team
when I get mad I turn green
nah I'm lying
when I'm mad I burn green and blam steam
or get the animals to cause a stampede Yur Yur Yur
the one and only beast(piece) master
creep after me catch a deep gash heat clap yah Baing
we after the g's like police after us
like eating after bud or sleeping after fucking
or we laugh and just spaz outta no where
while we chock you like how are you supposed to breathe with no air
spark that ass up for real
youze a fucking pill
probably get popped for a dub in the ville
probably get popped for even less out west
ak will make a mess out yah flesh
me I'm the mini shotty murderer
got it in my sleeve let it go
what's it's really like rocking with a g
I can be whipping around with a piff in the pound
who wants to get lifted and grounded
and kicked when he down
you like who wants to be hollerin on some chill shit
hollerin on some real shit
yah nigga
Ruck
You motherfuckers fake
go ahead fucking hate
I smack planes off the buildings
I'm a fucking ape
My last Lp
I wore a fucking cape
your last lp
you wore a fuck it wait
it never dropped
you were never hot
me and rock ready
but they aint ready rock
I sold ready rock
I was small time
I made a small fortune
but it was all mine
I got booted from Judah
from Aruba to Cuba
came home spent the rest of my loot on some supra's
Rock (off Kimbro Price -Abortion)
stop hating on the god
lying liar pants on fire
perpetratin the fraud
the shit you pop doesn't reverberate with god
the eighth shake raise the murder rate Oh my god
listen Ill be the best to do it
repeat I'll be the best to do it
defeat all the rest who knew it
sneak attack eagle eat your back you blew it stupid truth is
P I am smarter then your average
Joe bear or Jesus of Nazareth
battle shit battle ship battle ship? I ain't playing games bitch
gattle click gravel pit that will be your grave bitch
my shit is off the meter off the reefer
awkward I talk with heaters that I walk with
Orthopedic features coffin why because I eat the creatures often abortion
Man, I Hope
Man up, general
As the urban planning trembles
From fear of messiahs and profit.
The man entered with lopsided pedigree
As the man of hopes lies only ahead of me
And I serve him.
Serve you in the great hall
Under the pressure from the two testaments.
A friends a kin
Twice the man you are
Subpar, geoforming our subterranean
The pressure is hazy again.
Point passed the byproduct of two fathers
One in you, the other the constant,
Death is like loneliness
Since both are served with napkins.
The tidal frontier of a rapture.
A new becoming
While others are left fending off unknowings.
Seeds don't mature in every climate unlessed modified.
Not enough bodies to leave multiplied
And each insignia tells us that our fate has crumbled
Cant live in a skin so foreign
A body radiated from the pressure it was born in.
Mutant and special, a decision never left to you,
Discreet screwed a savior is just daily news.
A new planet was just science reminding us
That uniquity is transparent as morals
Dying roses given as a thank you, a gift,
Must be rejuvenated with supreme care.
A little attention and a wisp of touch.
Too much, he gave all but his two thumbs,
And I gave all but my number
Left the job to serve hundreds.
The faces he saw and I witnesses
Were identical.
Correlation showed us tears from incredible men
To transients.
We begged from him and they begged to us.
We all proudly whispered the same prayers.
Do die as I must.
You're all just quasi while I'm viewing you with my God's eye.
Popeye like Prop 8
Fixate on a fixed gear
Elevate next to last year
None of the water is clear
just find a matrimony and put it on auto-steer
because I was never here
hear that, it's thunder
echoing off the clouds giving us rain
drenched my hood, my head and my brain
till three rails led the train to self esteem
a half of me could easily sustain
while a half of you would be missing the sane
and a frame isn't just new parts rearranged
but it's a heavenly body that leads us to our names
and the same is not the same
mimesis isn't to blame
you just need to start reading the damn thing
learn from the past
not the mistakes
be my mimicry
so I can leave you deprived
like my last relationship, parasitic
still want my credit
but you ended it
tether ball next to a tennis court
courtship after a horse whip
flinch next, I'll transmutate to a beast
feeling heat like a snake, eat, prey, sleep, capiche.
Thrown Up
Thrown up on a door step
Wait threw up on a friends bedset
In my sleep, next to me.
Missed my dress shirt and my pants unbuttoned
And unbelted. Passed out while undressing
Face down style. Got moved to the bathroom tile.
Woke up from grin toothed Tim asking if he could use the shower.
Moved again, now to the love seat across from Jon's bare feet.
Sleep till he has to work.
Another day ill have to work.
How did it get to this.
Went to a theater to see a independent feature.
Kings of summer but before I could be crowned
I needed to be served, a red mix with a double of that
With ice and not stirred. Chuckled to the hallway
Drinking with the screen. Drinking next to no one.
Drinking with nothing. Drink to that scene.
Where the protagonist brings his crush to his getaway
But she got away, and gone away with his best friend
Then I held it in, waiting for the conclusion.
Finally I left.
Friend was a block away taking a shower
so I wandered through the downtown
looking to the tops of roofs, all the power
held by years of reluctantly.
We drove down Milwaukee
stopped at Emporium
where they had a bar in an arcade
beat a 94' fan at NBA jam
and then went on to pinball
to spend all my tokens
on bright lights and ac/dc's Hell's Bells.
Saw a friend at New Wave then went to Two Way.
A Pitcher while watching Falling Skies
listen to a barfly tell us about a house party he went to yesterday
that was still going. And how he woke up at 4 in the afternoon
already late, making tourists wait for empensadas.
Two more friends showed up, got a table, did a shot of Malort
Spilled my wallet all over the floor.
Bought a Bloody Mary because I said I would.
Drank it and bought another one because my buddy said he would.
Gave the rest of my money as a tip.
Used my tool kit to fix my buds bike wheel so it would fit in my car.
He drove it back to his apartment, a few blocks, shaking the clutch
after each speed bump. I gave up on my cigarette after I dropped it
sitting in the passenger seat.
Talked about our Spain trip, seeing Barcelona beaches
and tasting Salt water off the Mediterranean coast.
It was my first time.
Then it was my first time I left his side
grew up together but the drama followed and I just left to hide.
It wasn't mine.
Hung out with the other group from Ohio
so he could sort it out but he didn't.
It would of been easier to fin it
and let Madrid become infinite.
It all still followed us home.
I followed him up his stairs back to his home for another year.
Still tired, went to sleep in his bed.
He steered me into his home away from home.
But I still left alone.
Breaking Promises
The numerous words sprouted from a tongue
just to twitch, to stay in an action,
to let motion verbalize
but,
it's only a sound that reverberates
like a pet that was dropped off at an apartment complexes parking lot
for good.
The clicks of each syllable shades into noise,
an effect that hears forward
but,
stays stuck in a bubble
goes up, the only ears that react are the one's that know better
then to predict such a false statement.
Vowels keep rising, breaking promises,
into the spatial movement above our heads
underneath the circuity of ideas
but,
at least it was said
consonants being bred to lighten up futures
they sink, before sail, waiting for a tempted response
stuck still, pleading with proven paths.
Indifferent, comfort isn't a place
just a state. Next to complacency.
Ahead of self-entitlement.
Each sentence they said fell flat
worse then farm fields
disrespectful for the research
all these schools could pass on you
It's not where you're at now
but a decision to educate each work you ever created
because it's all whole
and dreams aren't just for sleep
a way to only analyze your fiction
but,
they could be here, and before, and diffidently ahead.
Don't just go to where you can settle
a gutter between the cushion seats
you need to pick one or the other,
the area where you set yourself to
or the next illustration.
Draw it yourself
and fill in your characters speech bubble.
Talk only got us to our vocal chords,
the dialect hasn't adapted to intelligence
and your visibility is slowly fading into transparency.
Each statement muttered under flung tongues
shouldn't be repeated but held as one.
A proposition can easily be steam
or solid as a language understood.
But,
your lips get in the way,
the external becomes your falsehood
since it's easier to write, and each letter
can be re-stated, but that push from
written to spoken should mature
like our lives from nature.
Parking Lot Getaways
The field used to be a prairie. Native plants grew before and after wild fires grew rampant to naturally select the weeds from the local. Wildlife occured, flocking to the marshes, swimming down the streams and prancing through the tall grass left untrimmed. Each year the process repeated itself, giving each living thing a determined path to take each maturation period. The fields grew and push the boundaries of survival. Population grew, variation grew, age grew too.
Then the lines begin to take from the land. It started with just dirt creating partitiions in the grass. Seperating one side of the field from the other. Then another path would interesect, creating segregation between the fields. Nature was getting approached upon and a species unlike their own started plotting the land. This was for them, this for their friends, that for their family. The growth of the field couldn't sustain and it started looking inwards. The plants condensed and other just packed up and left. They let their seeds fall victim to the wind to find remaining fields.
The field made a decision. Other then letting their byproduct leave their community, they needed to condense. The outskirts of their land was being used elsewhere away from their discretion. The snakes had to live next to the rats nest and not overcome the pressure to deplete all their resources. Each part had a signifigance, it was an ecosystem. The closer they all lived, next to their enemies, laying against the irritable, walking from their young, the more variation sprouted. Adapatation made the animals specificy their purpose. The ducks had to start leaving and only came back home during vacations or when the water was warm enough. The bird followed. The snakes had to dig holes and hide from the enviroment that they once were a part of. Once scales were red and blue but now just shades of green.
The area started to become more conglomerated. Not only were individual settlers were coming over but whole communities. They were heading out west to free land just bought from Napolean. The land that once remained sanctive now was a place of democratic capitalism. Foreign plants were being forced into the ground, being worked by foreigners, that were seperating the natives from each other. The little blue stem had to move east while the sedge left for the northland. These non-native plants became argiculture, not particularly for the community, but most importantly, for the grain stock exhance in Chicago where they could sell it around the country.
These new settlers pledged for a train station that would help them visit the exchange and place bets on future prices for their crops. Once the train station was placed, the suburbs were created. The surrounded area became convuluted with summer homes and families looking for a quieter neighborhood then the booming city landscape that was ever-changing. Just like the burn that kept out the weeds and evasive plants that cycled once a year in the prairies, the same occured in Chicago. The wooden infrastructures, the buildings off of buildings, closely stacked on and off one another were swept away in ashes.
More and more left, leaving the city for castaways and the poor. The field wasn't a field anymore but a park. The area wasn't left for salvation but because it was too hard to be built on. The soil was too soft from it's state of being a wetland and the terrain surrounding the field was hilly and bumpy. The dirt roads quickly became pavement, cemented into the ground underneath like a bonding agent. These will be here forever, first just single lane, then suicide lanes, until four lane highways emerge letting the settlers quickly spread as soon as they look at a compass and an atlas.
After the land was divided up between the vacationers and the new locals, the remaining field stood firm. Since it was open, respectfully away from the humans but close enough for revenue, corporations started scowering the area. They looked at the dirt, checked the trees for tags, and even dug far enough to see what was in the mantle.
The neighbors peaked from their fences, the immigrants were sweating in the tall grass trying to rinse their faces in the bellowing creek, and the ground was being mixed from bottom to top and placed willynilly. The fertile soil left replaced with pipes and steam rusted machinery churning through the plains until the land was deemed useless. Only the wild grass growing over the working immigrants heads could hide the refutable damages. The field lay enclosed, surrounded by the tormenters, looking out their backyards at a barren mass left unnamed.
Until things changed, a century after the arrival of settlers to the region. The government intervened and started securing property to be allocated to the preservation of the natural beauty of the areas. The beauty that subsidized the area for millenia, the was left untouched by the inhabitants before the settlers, the nomads just strode through, while the settlers struck down. The barren mass, the remanined field now shriveled to a tenth of the degree of what it was, is now being propagated and protected just right after profit was marginalized from the underground resources. Trails were pathed around the creek and through the forests. The architecture left, old cabins withering away from shallow abandonment, windmills left upright only for the hikers to watch spin and spin. Nature dwindled down to a low that is now average. The only inhabitants are wanderers, natures nomads.
***
Gravel covers the immensive lot. After it sits, then pavement is poured evenly on top of the gravel. Each rock that formed the gravel is now smothered with a hot surfacer to allow for a steady park. As soon as the pavement becomes poured, it's already getting pressed as tightly as it can into the gravel and, into the level below the rocks, into the earth. This is repeated until the 100 yard by 50 yard area is complete. That task takes a good weathered weekend to be completed. It sits and stays flat for decades until the retail location is moved down the road into a friendlier, modern design.
The building now looks liks a rectangle from the clouds. From a far it just looks like a twenty foot walled behemoth. From an outsider (one that has never seen a retail store), they would think this was a warehouse. To a person that isn't aware of a warehouse, it would just look like an un-needed amount of space for anything but a cult's living facility. But this is where we shop and do plenty of other things that have nothing to do with shopping. You can never be closer to a stranger then parking next to five of them in a parking lot.
There are thirteen yellow longitudual lines all branded with a corresponding letter from the alphabet. Each line has twenty five latitidual lines intersecting them. This gives each row 50 parking spots per row and 650 places to park throughout the whole lot. These lines eventually needed to be repainted one row at a time every two years. The yellow begins to get ripped away by hot rubber. The flourescent element given to each paint stripe begins to fade due to half life and night/day. Seagulls when hungry enough will peck at the paint as if it was tape as if either one was edible under any circumstance. These seagulls eventually fly into spinning mechanical windmills that provide electricity. The electricity makes the steel giant hum which puts the community surrounding these benefactors in a dual state; one loving the hum that puts them to sleep like a lullaby being spoken through your grandmother's mouth after chocolate chip cookies and milk or they hate the hum like the resonance sound of a hundred flourescent light bulbs that have no power switch nearby. The bulbs are engineered to burn out while off, during the day, to not inconveniece the slew that speed through during the convenant third shift.
A crew with nothing better to do, the less hygenic, the workers clueless to the encompassing punishment of slacking throughout the night. Vitamin C is given by the sun but the moon absorbs yours. Watching the stars wink at you and leave horizons over the time of a few construction seasons. No shirts tucked in, the slip under the easel of peoples, that can never leave their ever-enclosed space of sleep, since their time is of the night and the world runs off the sun and it's easy to see navigability. It's split between loners who need money for a recreational bathtub mix of narcotics to shade the sun coming through the blindless window, the family-goers working around their signifigant other's work schedule to nap with the kids as they wonder what their mother does that's needs to be done while everyone is busily sleeping.
Customers bringing packs of sleepless similiars, howling as they grab for moonpies, as they stare waiting to shop for that necessity of a post-midnight snack frozen pizza combo brownie pack only sold in select, delicate markets. If organics are sold, calories are burned, to consume the high grade, complex molecular make-up of the binge worthy tasty mix of meats and pre-packaged, self-replicating foodstuffs.
The one's still taking the trail from wetland to grossly oversized consumption headquarters are vagrants and volunteers. The vagrants walk along the highway interstate known by their odd numbers. They pass by tall grass as a means to evaluate wind direction to circumvent their caloric intake. Watching retail mass and parking lot turmoil pass, then empty lots still looking for competitive edge, onto strip malls littered between these coves, finally finding the place that serves the cheapest coffee with a place to meet and greet and most importantly seat. Finding others just like them, lost in the abandoment of steady jobs and fruitless responsibility. The previous yesterday was just like the present. After greetings they studied laborlessly at the local library's computer screens trying to find the next neighborhood to squat at. One of the loners got taken up by a racoon family but he was unaware that he was actually talking about a opossum tribe. They all toothlessly grin and rest their heads on the nearest surface to succumb to a sailor's sleep.
Then, while the vagrants go for a stroll to the next hospitable business, the volunteers come out of the estranged spectrum. The one's that need to spend their time in idle find the necessity of their needs far outweighs their civil duty as wholesale citizens. Most without families, the lapluster soul found love in the family of ecosystem, and already capitalistically retired. They hobble around on their found canes out in the tall grass looking through bird houses and snake dens and counting the numbers. Watching the youth that nostalgically was diverse seriouslly plummet from the hungry and opportunists.
Finally the land was sold, changing hands from government to corporation, cuffed sleeves interacting, to the one promising to do the least. Proctection is just a word uttered from the new land owners to the community. The one's that breath the sacred of native want to know how our heritage will stay in the culture, removed farther from
Genre Specific
Simply Peachy
Your skin is like a white flesh peach
paired well next to top sirloin beef
and if we have to be discreet
publicly I'm impeached
sitting on a beach on beach street
drinking muai thai, reading a juniper leaf
waiting for the corner store
to sell cornicopia's
so I can just hold it firm
for a sinner's birth
under a minute's turn
while the winter's worm
burrows surely for another term.
Fruit flies displace before hands decay
so they can't interface with another oil barrel race
and items stack up, while images get backed up
on hard drives, cursing about apartheid
but consistently never lived it,
pdfs beat spreadsheets in another scrimmage
as the sale today is trimmed, green cabbage
I'll have to take another vacation
as a phantom to just fathom
why my opinions are soaked in broth
served with bread crumb croutons
spiced with thyme and a coupon
cut out from an advert calendar
selling photographs where the booths gone.
The line is too busy looking at screens
to form a circle, lights flash forward
waiting for the next Big Three
jump the line and still wait hopelessly.
Statements, that's my favorite
wonder where the hours went, into entertainment
they absorbed me like the magazines still stale photographs
still absorbed me
and I read and read and read, waiting for the stars story
to intertwine between my capillaries
but they only crawled as slow as a caterpillar
buried by milkweed
grossly disporportionate to it's seed size
while the soil performs sourly
I'm only hourly
so I sit, proud to be.
Simply Compound
Remember when we seemed fine
we laid bordered on a thin line
and without time?
The memory of a back nine
where you shot par, and you shot mine
the placement of a tee with enough sun
to cause misery, the ball teetered unevenly simply.
The grass felt repetetive
wheels spun on edges again
while plagiarism was my ramptant twin, she said
and we went back, to the wine and cheese
watched mature men pick crackers from their teeth
and the sound dink made us think one of us was taking another drink
so we glanced at eachother, made loud noise,
said capiche in our french voice
we had a choice so we held each other in the rotating doors
around and around
the sound funnelled through the town
where the night calmed down,
winter whimpered wishing whispers
street sweeped, mind weak, my week.
thighs creak once we hit pavement
and the Darkness left the moon light
nothing but amazing
shining through fog on one hazy street
which left the endless streak of cars a little crazy.
because, you see, each sedan snapped like a photograph
and the next one already sped past before the last one was time stamped
and headaches started to emerge, under false intertia
fell folding facsmile, motion moved me, file denial under M
and watch the watch watching, peak idealistically
waiting for every wedding to end vicariously.
Simply Detailed
The pavement paned with hairline fractures
cracks that bore through the road
misdirecting traffic to the terminal of the static.
The knick grew from tire pressure
into a hole, a tiny area where that the tadpoles stole
until they got splashed out by the consistency of a wheels roll.
Two median yellow congruent lines split
and dashed while clashing with the thick
nurturing through the street,
laid sloppily like a splash to a wash
each end finished with a crash.
Boundaries borderless, white chalk chaotically under ordinance,
but when the coupe tried to pass, his fishing poles fell out of his storages
because his wheel walls hit grass from the decayed white discouragement
then the steering went abrupt, the wreckless stability turned the bar back to tar.
Can't decipher if it's blocks or jagged, if it's time to cut back or
speed up to ravage, but the window was savaged with muddy water superstition,
thought the lanes were taller, but a flood starts on the ends,
so I cut back behind, trail far from mine; original position.
Simply Beautiful or Dribble. Better, yet, both.
Each word is wisdom, passed down from long lineages
the tree branches our splitting again
the word wasn't supposed to be there
and these were never meant to be heard
just filler
just filler her with ideas that you want to want to mean
but you're mean and mean
you didn't want it to be true
stroke slow down to her navel, orange
I'm naive when i'm thornless
Born with it,
now I'm here trying to forget it
I think the pot hurt my head
and all I want to do is absorb into a bed
with a soda and roof over my shed.
Words are only on purpose if they are rough drafts
and anger doesn't leak it drifts like a raft
follow the current and you'll be a present like the current
and have the worst things to say
because saying got easier then not
anonymous like you're no more
until the structure to what you're saying is no more
and I can't tell if you're a compulsive liar
or just an experience thriver
an anti-cadaver, staying leaps and bounds from death
like you're not timed, playing chess
template to a strategy, design the monogamy
till a pedigree turns to a prodigy.
I thought this would be easier
but now my keyboard rests on my pillow
still though, it's just lines on pixels
and all I can say to all my friends is that I miss you
stretch the coasts, the only way we can be together
is if we roast these coffee beans and spectate off our old material and boast
and I always wished friends were forever
but now that I can't see through the weather
and the weather outside is identical to what it was a decade ago
and your weather is different, and not what it used be
I see that we might be free
free from each other
and just know that I love you
and I loved her
have fun in the sunny weather
and whether or not I love again
it doesn't really bother me
because I've always stuck myself in a basement
so I can surround myself with my interests
and be stuck, only seeing the limits that I allow myself
the ceiling is pretty much at my height
and I knock my head on my hanging microphone
and my belts are draped over metal piping
and they fall daily
the space falls on top of me and I indulge
in the nothings, catch up on my shows
until new ones come out then I add more to the rotation
and multiply the artists that I've forgotten about
because I'm still exploring other musicians
and genres, then I don't have any cd's to put the music on
so I make some, and go out and buy another stack
and run out of room to keep them in my car.
I can't talk or text for a long duration
I'm not smart, I don't have a smart phone
I just use my bones to write sentences out to no one,
I feel, I feel like, I feel bad
My car smells stale
it's where I smoke and there is nowhere to escape the exhale
I'll escalate when it's the right date
die before I transcend into the next state
say hey to my brother in another state
won't move, got too much food on my dinner plate.
I'm a man of the moment
but, man, I'm hopeless
shouldn't have drinken those mimosas
after my tenured expulsion
it was just a silly explosion
the type that feeds off memories that are erroded.
the first one fell into my lap like a lap dog
the women after that, that I chased, seemed to run away
fuck it, I need my space
FUCK it, I'm alive i'm not trying to win some race
sitting in my den, same room as my bed
Now I'm just stuck with this pen
and I lost in this pen.
Financial obligations, pre-internet enslavement, time capsule repulsed, rearrange them
so cold don't want to change my clothes
hanging out in my work uniform
hugging on the first breath
light on a lemon
get something off my chest
I vaporize
Actually, smoke out of pipe tobacco pipe
so I can feel mega man's spikes
on my throat
so cold, don't take my black gloves off
typing for ambition
won't be no where, where's the transition?
sifting through the wrapped presents
like where's the tradition?
Ugly sounds so beautiful
before I cut my cuticles.
Play me some noise
is no one what they never said
been in love this entire time
And Christmas came tomorrow
it would be a different day
follow the fallen
basement dwellers turned off
I broke the sound, finally.
or was it just my computer.
you could hear it
but no one never ever said that.
Still gone from Saturday
catch me in a few weeks
Love came easily and spontaneously. It was like sucking emissions from a muffler. You can either do it willfully and pucker your lips to rattling metal,
or you can just drive behind it and yell about it every time the car takes off.
Do it or don't, but don't be wrapped up in the middle wanting to go either direction.
all the white space under your tires, like snow, like air, like friction
can be your only ticket out of here
so either you can find a way to go like bring on the ambition
or float
at least failing admits to change
but to float is to withhold progression.
It doesn't hurt to shower for awhile and it certainly doesn't mean anything.
Each hair is like a wall of defense, never a filament of fiction,
you get what you see, never what you want to become,
it wasn't that easy, shame on you.
And I'm back at it again,
It's like smoking pot in the back with a hospice bed playing scratch off lottery,
your hands, massaging, felt like you were making pottery.
verse one;
How does one rap?
it's like brap brap, oh shit like BRACK BRACK
GUN SHOTS
AHH DON'T HIT ME
With a Four FIVE, I GOT THREE FITTY
a Bunch of MEMES, Why you shittin
Who you buckin'
With only 8 Minutes of Light Left.
Karen leaves Dave to the living room television where Charlie Sheen is counting down the seconds to the "End of Light." Karen walks out the front door and plans to get into her sedan and drive off in search of others just like her. But ends up just walking while occasionaly looking up into the sky where the light originates from.
A man across the globe is disappointed. He won't get to witness the last minutes of light because it's already dark where he is. The night will only stay off, he says. The Night will only turn into darkness, he corrects himself.
The man who stayed outdoors his whole life became afraid. The light that lit his sunset was now waning, the heat he once adored was slowly fading. After his friend Steve told him the news and made him coercisively point up to our Father, he walked away and went inside. The paths he hiked simmered in his memory, the long stares at coyotes through thin brush stained in his blinks. Nature was terrifying, The Nocturnals now owned the system.
Two young room mates passing the time on school break (in the spring). One man, the other female, never fully knew eachother before becoming residents together. They still didn't have the time, busy with school and the myriad of extra curriculms that plague the soul. They watch together now on the couch embracing, the rays seperately shining through their living room window hitting old wooden floor boards. The closer the darkness comes, each minute reverently next, they began to sqooch closer and closer. Words weren't uttered but their only one way to make a son when another dies out.
A worker was working. He asked his boss if he could take his break a tad earlier to enjoy his last cigarette in sunlight. Maybe it could have been his last one all together, he's been thinking about quitting for 5 years but never tried. Maybe this last one. But his boss said no, so he went back to stocking.
A farmer cried. First because he's been farming his whole life, a break from the nonstop work seemed delightful. Then the tears really symbolized his lossed earnings. All his crop was premature. The leafs still bulging, the fruit still green, across the field. The only crop that can flourish off this neverending night are fungi. They would grow and grow until finding the nearest light source. Would the moon still help us find our way? The mushrooms would grow bigger then us, and bacteria that thrives off of it, usually not much bigger then a cell would also grow tenfold being the size of us. Bacterium roaming around in the dark, snatching our shrooms up.
The astronomer watched the sun spots on the sun flare for the last time, the solar flares pounced off the core and lusted for it's next victim and almost reached mercury. The rest of the fire sizzled and he thought he could see bubbles and steam rise from new white dwarf. Only for minutes. This is the first time he can ever question seeing an action that didn't exist. Others are looking at it with a regular telescope but they are tweeting that the sun is still visible, it's another hoax like y2k and 2012/12/21 and everything else. But they still only take the light that is being directed to us. Radio telescopes are our only choice.
The protester held his placard, shoving it in the strangers faces commuting to and from work and pleasuire. Hardly any eyes viewed the message, that the Food Bank was storing their food for their own personal gain. The food that was donated, the countless cans that have no logical expiration date, the dried goods still good for a few years. Even the perishables if stored right had months left to live on. The protestor almost was getting violent with his sign, screaming, eyes bulged out with only deaf ears and blind eyes to no placate. One women did look but she was too busy taking a photograph of the sun's reflection off a skyscraper to actually slow down and converse. The protestor broke.
Of course some had sex. Couples left the lights on for the last time. They still had sex under covers. They were breathing each others breath, watching how the light changed from each position they could fit in an eight minute stretch. The single ones with no one to see naked for the first and last time left their rooms aimlessly. Their eyes grew, thinking about the few moments that were waning away, and fewer then the some thought back at the their last time intimacy was physical in their lives. It made them feel as if the last few months they were in a closet where the string to the light was long but too far away.
The conspiracy theorist passed down his knowledge. He said the sun has already been out for years but this was the best time to close down the Earth like those stores that only close their doors on x-mas. But this was different, they were closing like those super markets that get beaten out by competitors, or like those stores that get shut down because they were illegal. Everything will eventually close he says but it was already obvious. Not only was he telling the truth but he was slurring trying to make the logical seem unhypothetical. Everyone infront of his megaphone already knew. The theorist wasn't aware but just stating swallowed assumptions.
Karen found a sidewalk and galivanted on it. She spun around as the snow fell. She was only in a blouse and some fuzzy slippers. The flakes fell down her shirt and got stuck in her curly, auburn hair. Other neighbors were leaving their abodes too. They found out they should walk to. Some even got in their sedans and slowly putted away.
The satellite took pictures. The truists watched in their closets from their monitors the internet stream. The sun flickered like an lightbulb on a string in basement that hasn't been used in years or like a headlight be slammed into a brick wall. Off then on then off forever shattered. In the picture, the frames that brought together a second, you could see the warmth of light leave this now pit of darkness. The light leapt and continued through the negative space. Each second leaving the next but the light travelled in all directions like a candle in the middle of a lifeless room. All was light for the end and the end came soon after.
Polite Politics
I fiend for the Entertainment
I absorb this culture
I call House of Cards
A house of cards;
nomenclature.
I pity the pulse.
I watch the file restore.
The torrent takes hold
as the Peers hold hands.
It's done, drag
watch bits turn to a sight
just something to watch
another relic
that delivers my time in place.
She didn't even notice
she just kept walking,
didn't see me staring,
terminal was like a funnel
where's my tunnel
no one to console her
explore my options
run for rotten
it's okay
I've seen it often
glossy paperback
resting underneath
a plate full of dinner's scraps
blunt edge, hedge fund
counted out a hundo
only one number
ended; robbin' rice
ice turns to shrapnel
belt loop too thick
tie it to a sand hill
that's a classy crane
underwear stains
removed prized fluids
through hulu hooped
telecommuters.
Now that I bought you
It's over
folded loosely like a cabbage door
whip the package poor
pack it raw
crayfish with burnt sticks
you're a little wet
watching photoed palominos
prance to pedaled organs
tie off for the hope again
bottom of the barrel, leader of the rope
jumped over a pit fall
lumpy version, watch my urine
piss, fall
hearse verse; bye tie dye blood, withdrawal
The day lost,
wind blew clouds over the sunset
snow storms before sun rise
and while the filth
whisper "compromise"
they look each other in the eyes
and determine it's just not worth it.
It's half over, lunch wasn't served
without a purpose
now what's with the service
took too long for each end
from the shakes to sweaty palms
to the over stretched psalms
hanging low like the pigeon
or a doe
dead like a sapien
ends meat, look towards the end of the street
where the youngsters meet
between the two dumpsters,
call it a hapless streak
from the weak to the terminal
call me dead when i'm asleep
I'm in a serpentine position
caught my body in a disposition
till all loose ends equate to wisdom
i'm sinning
till the holy ghost gets caught up
and starts back at the beginning
like I can finally say I'm sorry
this isn't a parry
just a last call
this is the day, the moment, where the night falls
and each star stalls on one another
all the bright lights turn towards one
and the sun, tries to look in the direction of it's mother
but doesn't bother.
You're the offender
call me prissy please
she sulked but seemed pretty pleased
opened up those nifty knees
with the force of a few men
like lumberjacks taking out a row of trees
now I'm me
duplication under annihilation
sent frustration over the bridge
to my past tensed pirated nation
call that my brain wave
only gets paved with the machinery
of 19th century slave trade
boats on boats
I keep my yacht in the opponents moat
so I can get high on high hopes
while I get high and listen to this new pope
but the rope drags on the ceramic floor
and each door opens in opposite direction
say to me "I would love you if you can
reanimate your files extension"
but I can't
wasn't that a fucking blessing?
Now I'm upset again
wondering where the floor mats went again
every one that enters my room tracks
water that form puddles do the uneven cement
and now my socks are wet
and the second bathroom floods
and the water creeps through the ceiling
to my quarters in the basement
this is where I live
doesn't it drive you ape shit?
at least it's safe from the soul-less vapors
that leave you strung out
over gates and rapiers,
and yes, I might be that failure
but I'm nailed to a pallet
with broken splinters
and I get stacked
even throughout the cold of winter
so simmer
you heard me,
you already know you're a winner
so don't look for advice
don't put your ear to timber!
because a slice of bread,
is only given by people with
half a head,
and what do you want to
be when you grow up?
look I'm already grown up
yah fuck.
Blood from my chin
dripping through my chest hair
in the shower, after shaving.
Twin blades, try to flex and stare
only see rust on linoleum and mildew
on the ceiling.
Wash my ass with a rag
receive back a gift of
shit, blood and stains.
Pressure isn't enough
to do any job thorough
so I push down the plug
and rinse my hair
in this bath tub furrow.
Watch the suds spiral the drain,
hardly pass through
hair clogs it, makes it strain.
Brush my teeth
I can't say the least
some more blood
I eat sugar every day
maybe brush once a week.
At least I have clean ears.
Hidden by the curls of my hair
tried to talk myself into flossing
but the mirrors steamy
and I don't feel like witnessing carnage
I said I don't feel like being hurt
for the next hour
sell the power, the shower hardly works
we never needed running water.
A new rise,
probably not,
new things,
probably so,
starving artist,
probably not.
Audience is what you make it.
Performance is how you decide to express it.
We all have the same stories
just different dialects to tell them in.
Different sentences to exaggerate,
words to stress
or to edit out.
Honesty is only with the one's you want to trust.
I would move if I wasn't wearing concrete wings.
I would tell you if I wasn't afraid of the consequences.
I would share but I don't want to be critiqued.
So I throw it up in space
watch the stars, each one another thing to create
another point of reference to trace.
Give me a second and I'll give you one back too.
Impossible is nothing
Impossible is nothing
Impossible is nothing.
The thin chain around the young woman's porcelain neck was chinked.
She galivanted unknowingly
but the observers at the party watched.
It was funny to most.
No one said anything, to concur that that is what they were chuckling about.
I just sort of knew.
Eyes traced around the room trying to shoot down the luxury.
People listened closely, taking every word out of context, so they could bring down the status quo. They wanted to feel special but also tell us how America is just a sophisticated social caste way harsher then India.
Way harsher then the cold up in Northern Canada.
Way colder then the nips on the women who forgot that March can get be below zero.
And it can snow, you're leather jacked now looks leopard print.
I'll leave after all of you because I can still smell the food cooking in the Kitchen.
If you want to find me, I'll be on the back porch smoking cigs
looking through the back yard for some Truer Religion.
Peace be with you,
pieced together with glue
taken off the excess with a few tissues.
Now their stuck to the paper
modern arraignments,
stained from use, blew my nose
now the approach is exposed.
Purposeful meetings, met up,
children still teething while the ball game is tied
no body is ever winning.
All my friends tell me to keep it simple
next time do it solo
but it's harder then ever, so I make it poly
I ghosted from the roach
my father collects cock roaches
and I'm stoked to have a ceiling.
It might be underneath two more
and my feet rest on vinyl above a cement floor
but at least they laid me in the foundation,
symbolic restoration, hopefully I'm still their favorite.
Pot holes stuck in pavement, every winter
is only harsh from the spring tones
might react to psuedo clones
posting from their smart phones.
Where's the communication?
They took a derivative to basic
and took themselves out, now all talk is cheap
and static and self empathetic.
No one does it for you anymore
because it's just me, me me,
and why we live in threes
counting the wood lost
it's just all becomes a chore
if it's not entertainment,
it's self-deprecation
masked in frustration.
Waiting is the new wind for patience
another win, sitting staring
watching the electric blues
it's sacred,
Don't ever let the strangers know
they will think you're naked
I'll just clutch the fingers in my hand
check out my wrinkles
make 'em think I'm taken
but I'm waiting, I'm waiting
patiently painting pain
but in the picture
the train was going the opposite way
of the brain
I guess I'm just waiting to be arranged
stacked in some omni-direction
just not on this plane
and hopefully the lane is more then a two way
because, we should only ever have two ways.
But it's Tuesday
And I couldn't see the stars
because the moon threw it's glow
and if a person tells you they
"rather be left alone"
tell them they is plural
and you'll show them a new home.
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