is something more precious

in the moment

as it's happening

or in the past,

a recollection


a vague reflection

perhaps

of your last erection



when you see a picture

of your grandparents

were they heroes?

or peasants



seems the problem, if any

lies in the past

one must stay current

by thinking ahead

thus avoiding a lifetime of nonsense

Jesus, Tom

you have a light in you
that will glow upon others' faces
long after you're gone

you have a soul
that's old and new

I'm so happy
to have known you

I am forever grateful,
never regretful

I love you always,
dear tom

"Walk the Line" excerpt

I find it very,
very easy to be true
I find myself alone
when each day's through
Yes, I'll admit
that I'm a fool for you

Because you're mine,
I walk the line

You've got a way
to keep me on your side
You give me cause for love
that I can't hide
For you I know
I'd even try to turn the tide


Written by Rodney Crowell, Johnny Cash • Copyright © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, BMG Rights Management US, LLC

"Remember Me" excerpt

When this world has turned you down
And not a true friend can be found
Remember me, I'm the one who loves you

And through all kinds of weather
You'll find I'll never change
Through the sunshine and the shadows
I'll always be the same

Written by Stuart Hamblen • Sung by Johnny Cash
Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc

—

phases quick as roses
banners start to rise
dry the petals — state no mercy
as they begin to die

Satan's Angels

We grow up w/ belief

that what we're told
as kids is true

We grow up w/ belief
that what we're taught
as kids is false

But if what's told
is taught, what if
what's false is not

Still, it does not explain
the reason why
his angels keep returning

G.G. Allin

chim chim chirroo...

Dear Natalya,
I always knew that I was different than others. I feel doom and things are heavy. The faces of people, the trees, I see it all. I see everything. I know that something is wrong but I don’t know what it is. I know that I am lost but what is it that I should be seeking? Or is this it? Does everybody feel as I do - but I just notice it so clearly. There is an emptiness inside of me. 

For the four days that you were here I was breathing. The emptiness was filled. When you feel lost, to be found is a rescue of the soul. Even if it is for a short amount of time. Then when it’s taken away you feel the water drain. You feel more lost than you ever did. You only needed to be sitting there with me or getting ready in the bathroom mirror and that was enough. You have a warmth about you that is very special. I felt your glow. 

You are a dear friend.

Thank you
Tom
x

Fight or flight

In search of middle ground 

Blinded by delight

Hindsighted once again

Eyes wide open 

Look down and see 

A thousand-mile drop

Drunken, tickled and aloof

A pair who missed each-every exit

Still there's envy of the artist 

It is not art, nor poetry

But gluttony 

That takes the prize 

Beyond the clouds

A drop to death

Pray for one last cup

Remember with haste

The back of your hand

Pray this is a dream

Eyes closed shut 

Kiss the sky and

Pray to god for forgiveness 

let it die

Would you agree
lately, that we are both
guilty of self-medicating?

Perhaps just a tad
to lighten the load?

Perhaps just a bit
to greet our griefs
with half-smile floaty spirits?

Alas, there is light in darkness.

A light unseen by the human eye,
but felt only from deep within.

The kind of light
that stings and smokes
as precious rays torch your insides.

Butterfly Graveyard

Another casualty surfaced,

forgotten and rotten in the butterfly graveyard

Victim to the scathing buzz 

of its never-ending sea of flies

Gather the smiles of past lovers,

stack them to the trees

Pile the bones of hushed affairs,

set aflame each stick and stone

Notice the fire deep within you
as you fix your gaze upon the flame

A place where hungry hearts gather 

to feed off woes and open wounds

Strewn amongst discarded memories,

forgotten follies and shattered bits of broken hearts 

Left only with the wretched taste
of dusty wings plucked from the corpses

Grieve the day they used to flutter

amidst the stomachs of pony-tailed sweethearts

Cyn

cynical (adjective)

- believing that people are motivated by self-interest; distrustful of human sincerity or integrity. "... her cynical attitude."

- doubtful as to whether something will happen or whether it is worthwhile. "... most residents are -cynical aboutefforts to clean mobsters out of their city."

- contemptuous; mocking. "... he gave a cynical laugh." 

- concerned only with one's own interests and typically disregarding of appropriate standards in order to achieve them. "... a cynical manipulation of public opinion."

-

Credit: The American English dictionary; Apple Dictionary, 2016.

Where Tongues Falter

I want only three things from you -

look at my face

learn my eyes

recognize the gaze 

that speaks worlds to you

the language of sight

speaks louder than words

it carries the bits

unutterable by sound

a closer look
and you will see

a silent exchange 
of deafening thunder

you are the fire

you are the fire
I am the wanderer
trudging aimlessly through this forest

the sun has set
and bitter cold
leaves me seeking warmth again

amidst the darkness
something glistens
I am greeted by your glow

stuck on you,
your glinty core
transfixed on the brightness

starry-eyed,
I reach out my hand
but in return I am burned

the heat you gleam
is the kind that leaves 
my insides frozen

steady-paced,
I proceed 
and pray for refuge

until then,
I'll play with fire
and await the sun to rise again

Fuckboys

Gather 'round 

all ye fuckboys

Pull from the sun

Into the surf

Pluck from the trees

Into the earth

Gather round all ye fuckboys

Form a circle in the sea

There lie all the fuckboys

For the world to see

Take a journey

To mojave

Lay our heads

Beneath desert moon

I close my eyes, bid farewell

And pray you will forget me

bright eyes

He came from the land of Lincoln

She's a girl 

with pebbles in her pocket 

And precious stones 

on blades of grass

A blackberry stone 

so near to her heart

She knows fear, and
the devil to be close by

But the devil does not bother, 

for they've been acquainted

"he knows thy sorrows and sees my pain"

He sees her weep on penny tile

Still, he spares her

for he knows 

The looming disposition which consumes her

From his bright eyes

mechanical heart

Like an old car rusting away in a garage; it's always there, in the back of your mind. You keep meaning to get to it, but you put it off another day, for another time. You remember the days when it shined - the fresh paint, the smooth hum of the engine. Tip-top shape. You tell yourself one day you'll roll up your sleeves and fix her up again like new. But I'm afraid that day will never come.

momentum

How do you stop

A rolling rock

Rolling steady down a hill

With each turn

It gains momentum

Crushing wildflowers and dandelions 

How do you yield 

An object unaware 

Of its mass or power

Spinning recklessly through time

Only a fool would interfere 

Its undetermined destiny

Free to roam 

A path of solitude

Led solely by the dim light 

Of the loyal moon

The single, silent bystander 

All it takes 

Is a shift in weather 

And its path is changed forever

Digress

we sail the greatest storms

and get closer to nothing, still

each day the tide will rise and fall

while the faces come and go

so we take from them what we can

and what we think we need

gather each and every part

of what we think we know

...

but I'm still here and I'm not going anywhere 

this is why -

when you talk,

 I hear

       but don't listen

instead I choose to speak 

with the subtle  t  i  p  s

                              of my fingers 

because words don't mean a thing

I catch your gaze...

with the sun on my face, and

seashells in my pocket

for that moment

                    I   am   yours

I am anything you want me to be

lay your head down

give in to my essence

let my steady thumper

guide your slumber 

sleepy eyes and gentle ticks

pull me closer 

an inkling of how the world could be

with nothing before and nothing after

a kiss from the sun leaves you drunk
in candy-coated disbelief

all you see is blinding brightness 

all you hear is distant chatter 

of a man with his child,

teaching her to fly a kite

warm rays kiss your spine

every

         thing

  is

    bliss . . .

until the wind   picks      up

and spikes begin to surface

the very top of your skin

suddenly you get a grip!

but fail to bare the weight of your past 

so you recline, once again

into the comfort of your darkness 

a place where sun don't shine

and the air is still 

until -

silence and

                    chaos

govern each

                     waking

       moment 

and you start to remember the time 

in search of something solid

-

sweet boy?

if you could only feel the weight

of

    my

heart -

it would sink any inclination of reprisal

and summon a feeling of restitution 

still you preach a life of freedom

but keep your self from redemption! 

so I  leave you alone, with your misery

and your red wine

as we stumble yet again 

into bittersweet digression

Charlotte

I waited for my spider tonight

But it did not come 

Perhaps it was here

But it did not greet me

Or perhaps it chose 

To watch me from a distance 

And observe my reaction

To its absence 

Immunity

I’m having a reaction to you.

my body is reacting -

it is breaking down and rebuilding

something needs to come out

and though you tire me entirely 

I will never get tired of you

still, I must retire you - 

from my system

because -

this thing inside me is foul 

it's clung to my passageways

it's nesting in my cavities -

I am hazy 

this thing leaves an infectious trail

contaminates any chance of relief

manifests mockery, as it tickles my throat and

triggers violent bursts of involuntary exposure -

I can hear it laughing

it starts with a puddle that forms

at the crease of my mouth

until the flood comes,

now again I begin to seize

behold -

the tiny fault of a wise man

gives way to a fool’s revolution

because -

sometimes

I don't want to wash you off

still, I must rid you - of me

free from my mind

free from your polluted judgements

and I wonder

which is better? 

to forfeit love 

and feel nothing at all,

or to bear the plague of heartache 

over and over and over again 

Gold

The olympics of love and discontent 

we jump through hoops of disillusionment 

to form oblique judgments

of affirmed victory and assumed hubris

Give weight to the intangible

while hopelessly stroking a sedated disposition

any sight of interference is quickly penalized 

without an ounce of regret

And for what?

a gold-plated reproduction of self-worth

followed by quiet and solitary self-implosion

cosmic levels

Consider for a moment -

an attempt to stimulate a condition that raises our livelihood 

and releases a veil of separation

the simple beauty of the universe -

stepping into cosmic levels of conscienceness 

and accelerating spiritual alchemy

to illuminate in one tantric ritual

Enter a state of oneness -

cultivate a higher sphere of life

to prevent self-implosive decay -

It is a sacred discipline and not a privilege 

an identification with self,

loss of fear or a complete surrender to love

a sacrifice of ego - there is no fear

The ability to completely identify with the energy of others

thereby producing boldness and power -

no holding back

Marion (excerpt)

Here it is.

One more, one less. Another wasted love story. I really loved this one. When I think that it’s over, that I’ll never see him again like this - well yes, I’ll bump into him, we’ll meet our new boyfriend and girlfriend, act as if we had never been together, then we’ll slowly think of each other less and less until we forget each other completely. Almost.

Always the same for me. Break up, break down. Drink up, fool around. Meet one guy, then another, fuck around. Forget the one and only. Then after a few months of total emptiness start again to look for true love, desperately look everywhere. And after two years of loneliness, meet a new love and swear it is the one, until that one is gone as well.

There’s a moment in life when you can’t recover anymore from another break-up. And even if this person bugs you 60 percent of the time, well, you still can’t live without him. And even if he wakes you up everyday by sneezing right in your face, well, you love his sneezes more than anyone else’s kisses.

-
Monologue by Julie Delpy
2 Days in Paris
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=DD9XP0Ane8U

Vincent Van Gogh

What most fires me - much, much more than any of the others in my line of work - is the modern portrait.  I'm trying to do it with color and am certainly not the only one to try to do it this way.  I should like - you see I'm far from saying that I'm able to do all this, but ultimately this is where I'm headed - I should like to make portraits which a hundred years later will appear as apparitions to people living then.

-
Van Gogh to his younger sister Wilhelmina
June 3, 1890

Proximity

Fear of closeness

yields comfort in distance

The world rests lightly 

in my hand

Each new cycle

triggers the retrograde

A forged display  

of planetary relapse

So I close my eyes 

and summon my dreams 

Pray for the Sun 

to summon the day

Dearest Carl

Thinking of you on this full moon

and wishing you well. 

May the whiskey in your belly 

rouse sweet warmth in your soul. 

Won't you smile for me?

paid in full

to think i've out-smarted
a custom so ancient
it's bypassed one hundred times
me?

as if burying oneself
in immense sadness
will somehow shorten one's sentence?

i'm afraid, no
one must serve
full-time.

E.F. Rochester

I've a strange feeling with regard to you,

as if i had a string

somewhere under my left ribs,

tightly knotted to a similar string in you.

And if you were to leave

I'm afraid that cord of communion would snap,

And I've a notion 

that I'd take to bleeding inwardly.

Jane Eyre

Byron's Conrad

That man of loneliness and mystery,

Scarce seen to smile, and seldom heard to sigh—

He knew himself a villain — but he deem'd

The rest no better than the thing he seem'd;

And scorn'd the best as hypocrites who hid

Those deeds the bolder spirit plainly did.

He knew himself detested, but he knew

The hearts that loath'd him, crouch'd and dreaded too.

Lone, wild, and strange, he stood alike exempt

From all affection and from all contempt.

unkept

it was done after it was over

he threw me away

he laughed at my sins and

exploited my truths

stripped the roof from my home

to expose the storm -

came rippin in 

tearing everything to shreds

there is no salvation

there is only dirt

he chewed me up and spit me out

only to taste but never to swallow

a regurgitation of my soul, my pride

a solid column that hardens over time 

and eventually turns to stone

weather-beaten and abused 

i am left cracked but still standing

we wrote

that suits me well

washed up 

for the world to see and to judge

a contract broken -

mislead and taken without consent

blinded by own desires and curiosities

to seek and to be found

leaves a bad taste in my mouth

of bitter deceit

I am left with a stale appetite 

starved and hungry for more

an inconvenient yearning 

for a recipe of disaster

if only you knew

you broke my heart before we met, babe

two souls in search of truth 

to mend a gap

of an itch that burns

holes into your skin

a desire unmet 

until I met you, babe

for my soul was numb before we met

and I did not feel a thing

grain by grain, you dissolve

as I stir you away