||[25 Oct 2006|03:54pm]
so this was supposed to be my interview poem
the one where i talk about getting offstage and somebody in the crowd asks me what poetry means to me
or some other inane shit
and then i've got to jam my hands in my pockets and screw my face up like i'm contemplating the world's deepest mysteries
and respond with some esoteric bit of wordplay like my tongue's the philosopher's stone
and every single word that i speak is the elixir of life
like i dipped the spear of destiny into the holy grail and etched out the commandments that christ forgot about
like listening to my shit's gonna unlock some mystical doorway to heal the whole world
so i'm some contemporary jesus figure; standing over the audience like they're the lepers
as if some speck of spittle would fall from my lips and hit the floor and that would deem a yearly pilgrimage to the very spot where there would be a shrine erected in my honor
as if to say i get up and do this for anyone but my own goddamn self...
which i don't
this is a reality check poem
you can file all complaints, comments and criticisms at the foot of the stage
we'll get the red correction pens out and pick me apart later, but for right now: some clarification
you see, trying to understand the poet through their poetry is like searching high and low for the love of your life...
in a chat room
because on paper everybody is a 5'9 scandanavian bikini model with a 185 IQ and 4 master's degrees in academic sciences
and everyone else is a rugged ex-kickboxer who cries when he paints
and really loves puppies
so it only stands to reason that these meticulously arranged, edited and revised words ACTUALLY explain the person who i truly am, right?
i am not some thousand-fold reincarnated super-being sent to cleanse the earth
i was fucking stoned, and needed a rhyme scheme to end a poem with
i'm just another asshole who's apparent profession is polishing turds
but i can shine shit with the best of em, so take a note
because when the poet performs loudly...
it's usually just to hear the sound of our own voice, and i'll be the first to admit it:
i'm just a chain smoking, booze drinking, loudmouth ass mother fucker peddling nothing more than beautified bullshit, so
if you've had your fill for the evening take a step back and clear space for someone who actually came to listen, but before you go, i want you to know one thing
that this poem tonight is dedicated to you
written specifically for those who aren't paying attention
whether it's because your ass is too drunk at the bar to notice anything outside the rim of your own glass
or you're just too cool for this whole spoken word thing, i want to thank you
i want to thank you for focusing nothing more than the back of your head at my entire performance because you remind me exactly who i come out here for:
mostly myself; but also the few people with eyes tuned to this section of the stage
the folks in the back who can't see me but strain to listen
those who come out week after week to watch poets bleed on stage like it was some sort of a church pulpit
and especially for every pretty young girl who has fucked me full of inspiration, be it mentally or physically
especially for them
so whether or not you remember my name when i leave this stage is irrelevant
because good, bad or indifferent this right here to me, is accomplishment
and i'm only here to impress myself, my loved ones, and my peers, in that order
so you can nod your head and clap when i finish, or you can just go on drinking
because i'ma go on writing, either way
|civil unrest.. written on the day of the cronulla riots
||[14 Jun 2006|11:08pm]
Feeling militant, hyper vigilant from the increasing incidents
Or belligerence or intolerance from the precedent
And total ignorance from the government
My tendency to give in freak out and get mega bent
The feeling is prevalent the facts are evident
Anxiety hits me makes me freeze hyperventilate
Hybrid cultures assimilated with volcanic eruptions of discontent
Excuse me if I dissent cos I’m a malcontent with passion to vent
You thought it was ideal, but the melting pot bubbled over
Civil unrest in a state of paranoia
George Orwell thought it all out before
We’ve got race riots knocking at the door
Civil unrest in a state of paranoia
This is a thing that I’ve said previous
That the systems not working and results grievous
I felt alarmed and alert and it’s getting tedious
Do you believe in this or take heed in this
Induce states of denial and inebriated bliss
Felt the cultural cringe, grown up in the lunatic fringe
Never been exposed to much of Jesus nor Allah
Choosing not to partake in brainwashing dogma
I cursed every religion as a bitter pill to swallow
I’ve got my own instincts to follow, think Buddha was a happy fellow
Keep getting told to relax and I do want to be mellow
But the news is shaking my spine trembling my insides
Gives me the urge to run to the hills and hide
Civil unrest in a state of paranoia, civil unrest in a state of paranoia
Like watching the local news when you know it’s going to floor ya
Don’t want to preach or rant on or bore ya
But the shits hitting the fan and it’s gonna fucken destroy ya
||[15 Aug 2005|10:00pm]
My sense of smell is incensed by the scent of your patchoulli incense
It's too intense - and I'm a hippie,
Where as you you just affect the most effective way to get in line
Behind all the other stoners doing time which is fine -
But your making me look bad,
'Cause hips a state of mind move on never washing the dreads you got
At your local salon yokel posing with Bob driving a van that's leaking
Oil screaming about Babylon your just a fad,
And it makes me sad to see you miss the point so profusely,
Coming in my store smelling of herb so obtusely get a brain and camoflauge
So's to avoid the demon claws of simply being a statistic.
I'm idealistic and masochistic but at least I ain't a trustfund dipstick
So chill, and find some other way to go and try and be ill.
I'm Amadeus, that's fucking Mozart, and my words are a symphony compared to that spittle you just dribbled out your three inch mockery, your mocking me trying to put a pox on me talking about my momma like she yours? Man is my fault she was on her knees always trying to match your pastel socks and drawers, lubin' herself up so she could wax the handles on all your doors, now your pants are on the floor and your trying to play with the dog, 'cause your dad and grandma are out back with the goat and a midget trying to snog man now I got you, a metaphoricall lyrical vice, a device I put peoples heads in when I'm trying to squeeze out both their eyes, so do us a favor and go back to stickin your dick in your mammas flesh warm apple pies. You got me so pissed off I'm foaming at the mouth, like the rabies your girlfriend gave you trying to south on you, your bloody tool, never fuck with an Irishman you mother fuckin fool, 'cause all that Jameson has made me famous son in the circles I run in, and I'll feed you to my potatoes you ever talk about my mom like that again.
|23, Central Coast of California, New to all this....
||[04 Aug 2005|06:47pm]
Now it's bigger, better, stronger, longer
Sings the song it's wrong to ponder
Why we plunder run asunder
Through the world we rape and blunder
As our children die of hunger not a tear we cry
I wonder why we merely sigh in the name of 'progress' people die,
Well I question this and sieze the lie
That says it's wrong and thus defy the musty way they codify us
Pasturize and pacify us
Must we die just trusting lies, NO!
Distrust those distant flies who raise and breed mistrust inside us as they Slowly rape and blind us!
Because I refuse to give up and I refuse to lay down,
Believing the human spirit is less than profound
We're bound to realize the sea of lies that we've been given and
It'll cause us all to pause and reasses the way we're livin.
Now the raven brazen flies the skies
The flys arise his blazing eyes reflect
A vision mass conditioned,
The history we're given rife with carefully planned revisions,
Will it tell you how the West was won
Mass Genocide and now theirs none
To claim the land God gave To Us?
And justice has prevailed we trust?
Well ask I must we choose between unjust or just less obvious,
Oblivious, mischevious, deceiving us,
Receiving mass appeal because it quells
The doubt and fear appears our eyes devise a clever guise
And now we're trapped in watching out,
You shout I told you so but you sold your soul for a shallow show
And in the end who knows you might be right and
He might beam you up one night
Then we'd be free of your hypocricy
Your force fed false theology and peace would reign
In those that remained superbly diturbed by material gain without compassion. As you wear the latest fashion try and see through the distraction
Stand up and be impassioned!
|this is pretty new. i would appreciate all comments & criticism, please
||[13 Jul 2005|01:43pm]
We’re in a strange spot now,
you and I. Two uncertain souls
bending and twisting like blue smoke,
in hopes of ending the night entangled
in each other’s arms, the warm scent
of skin on skin, melting together.
But is it better if we go
our separate ways? To never
put a name on whatever strange
thing is between us? That’s been
feeding us, sneaking in our dreams
and making our every move more
living proof that our eyes line
up just right; it’s a sign
that we have no control over
the electric in our fingertips
every time we touch—but,
we’re in a strange spot now,
you and I. Two uncertain souls
swimming away in this ash grey
fish bowl of a town that left us here
to drown and now
|LOTS OF NEW ITESMS AT ASSIMILATE THIS! ZINE AND BUTTON DISTRO
||[29 Jun 2005|06:49pm]
we (assimilate this!) are a radical/queer distro based out of portland, oregon. we're a two-queer (now, that's not too-queer, mind you) operation, and have been around for about two years under a variety of names (most recently "radical conception" until late 2004).
we distro zines, buttons, and all sorts of other random assorted stuff including (but not limited to) buttons, zines, books, cds, handmade pet toys, vegan baked goods, and all sorts of other fun stuff.
we have lots of new items added to the zine and button sections!!! come and check us out!!!
Assimilate This! Zine and Button Distro
|Poetry Slam Community
||[03 Dec 2004|12:30am]
(Please let me know if this post isn't welcome here; I'll remove it at once.)
I've created a community that's intended to act as a virtual poetry slam. Rather than simply submitting poetry, poets are encouraged to post audio recordings. It's the next best thing to reading at a slam, plus you'll wind up with constructive criticism to better your performance for next time.
Please swing by and take a look...
|untitled as of now
||[18 Nov 2004|09:35am]
I had a dream I was in a tower
And a plane flew by the window
So I recited the psalms of my last words
And watch them tumble over the crescendos
I’ve always been afraid to fly even though
I overcame my fear of heights
I still wake up after every night
Wishing I wasn’t afraid to fly
So I had a dream I was in a tower
And a plane flew by the window
I began to recite my last words
When I noticed a child’s mother
Reading a bible verse
I never had the courage to pick up religion
And never understood how people could
Get by just believing
But there her son was right beside her kneeling with his hands pressed together
Reciting his last words through prayer
I had a dream I was in a tower
And a plane flew by the window
So I began to recite my final words
When I saw this girl begin to deliver hers
She looked into her husband’s eyes
She said this is it, this is goodbye
He said, but we had a wonderful life
And the best part is I shared it with
A remarkable wife
Not one tear dropped
And not one smile broke
They held each other and didn’t let go
Now I’m not sure if they ever had a dream
Where they were in a tower
As a plane flew by the window
And pictured that moment when they began to recite their last words but noticed a grown man cry as he told his daughter he wasn’t coming home tonight
You see I had this dream that I was in a tower when a plane flew by the window
So I started to recite my final words
When I realized what final words are worth
And ever since that dream I will never
Take goodbyes for granted
Because some people didn’t have the time
To be thankful for all they had been handed
||[16 Nov 2004|12:47pm]
motivation of cessation drives my imagination
inflamation of my mind
been feeling so sublime
no more rewind to another time
look ahead to find no signs
destiny is a proven fallacy
a divided me has subsided see
a reminded me repressed memories
hungry for stability, comfortability
lost in a sea of doubt
i smoke to ease an anxious me
and wait for a sign of changing times
still in denial of symbols showing
still not expressing feelings knowing
what i must do is forget
do i regret? not let my mind move on?
am i upset? not let my feelings show strong.
make sure im delaying fate
i'll tell you someday but i just can't wait.
i am all i have in life,
family is next followed by strife.
something better is waiting for us
with disguest and divided trust
look to god and realize he's rust
watered down prayers over thousands of years
millions of fears answered only by tears.
... to be continued
||[07 Nov 2004|10:29pm]
i don't have much to say
because to tell you the truth
i don't know very much about you
but baby when you smiled
all the stars in the sky lit up your face
and you looked
standing next to me
as the fall air chills between us
and i ask myself
how could i be so lucky to be
and i don't know very much about you
but i want you to know
with a smile like that
i am exploding with thoughts
and what if's
so would you be down to be with me?
because i want to
and take your
because i could make you happy
day of your life
||[07 Nov 2004|12:18pm]
Capture and create it.
Find that rhythm shard,
Use it to chisel
A brand new canvas.
The sweat from the labour
Will be the finishing touch
On a masterpiece carved from inside.
Dance with the words,
Feel their odd
And unique gait.
Twirl and dip
Their meter and rhyme,
Romancing your words
Into succulent surrender.
Pluck sparkling words from the sky above.
People's eyes shine realizing,
As we hear each other
And cluster together like a constellation,
That we are all connected.
That sweet and sour
Honey dipped voice
Pouring out onto the stage
Dripping over the audience,
Sends out a gracious invitation
To sip on the auditory delicacy.
Now they crave more,
Ravenous in their endless starvation
For the written word.
||[29 Oct 2004|01:18am]
I'm new here...so here's a lil piece to get me started. Let me know what you think, if you feel like it.
the planets' alignment is off.
their skewed orbits
lending a shaky step to my toes
my hands tremble from the
steering wheel's coy vibrations,
till I'm dancing
to churning radio waves
that break on my face like
an angry lover's palms
desperate to say
"shut the fuck up, stupid bitch"
acid trip taillight trails
show me where to go,
and when to stop
I lost my way, way back.
I've got my world in a backpack.
I'm stepping over sidewalk cracks,
to avoid backbreaking failure.
my proverbial life's highway
is just a fat, black line
where palmtrees and powerlines lead
me to long-distance loves
who don't understand what I need
but hell, neither do I.
||[22 Oct 2004|11:16am]
no intro, just flow...
I'm thinking of things I could have said or done
to resolve what begun as innocent to some.
But this pain is not innocent, its depressing;
worrying about what she's doing and who is wooing... her,
my love. MY LOVE.
And its at this point i begin to regret,
my eyes won't close, her toes stick out from the bed, this girl, who's gotten inside my head.
I explain to her the wall which surrounds my soul
in which pieces she's knocked down and stole, then tries to console, it gets worse.
"The time is not right," "This is best for both of us"
Fuck these cliche lines like posted up signs trying to tell me.... that we.. aren't meant to be.
And i ask if we can get back together.
Like she's the glue and our relationship is the two pieces of glass that i dropped when i stopped trusting.
And she answers. No.
"this is best for both of us"
This pain inside my stomach, my chest, and my mind is for the best?
Not hard to contest,
but im quiet.
She needs time to think, to realize that what im offering her is pure,
and that struggles are made to endure.
Thinking of things I could have said or done,
or read or sung, or undone or even learned from.
My pain is numb.
||[29 Aug 2004|09:54pm]
Hey all, I just joined this community and it seems fitting to include a piece with my introduction. So.. here it is!
My Broken Angel
Tears of glass
I try to catch them
But they cut my hands
And rivulets of blood
Stream down my wrists
And she can't fix them
And I can't fix them
Lonely smoker stands under
The lightning tree
And my angel is crying
There is so much grief
And sadness she must bear
So many crimes
So much villiany
If you speak to her
She's hardly there
What has become of my Angel?
My Broken Angel?
What will set her free?
|Ode To PMS
||[27 Aug 2004|10:28am]
Have you ever had those
Tear out your hair,
Too moody to care,
Shooting random icy glares,
Just give me a fucking
Chocolate bar days?
I don't take no flack
At the end of a pill pack,
So I suggest you:
Don't ask me for motivation,
Or insist on a renovation
Of my snarling brat,
Sour pickle disposition.
Because I'm not Home Depot,
There will be no service
With a smile today.
||[13 Jul 2004|09:37am]
If I stand here long enough
Will words become tangible?
It seems I've mistakingly stumbled onto
The initial and final stop
On Writer's Block Street.
Confusion and panic set in,
I've lost my ticket
To Inspiration Avenue.
Conductor says it's a common mishap.
But I have a plan:
I'll find the right train,
Sneaking on and hitching a ride.
My words taking me farther along the track
Than I ever imagined.
||[28 May 2004|11:25pm]
keep everything inside
close your eyes
bite your lip
oh lover...where art thou?
||[28 May 2004|11:22pm]
your words seem
to flow right out of you mouth
and it appears to
you dont even know
what your saying
until you hear yourself say it
and even then i think
that its difficult for you to hear
your self clearly, you must hear
you vision is clouded
you are unable to see things clearly
that sends ice
blasting through my skin
sucks the life outta me
|A Yummy Lie
||[03 May 2004|07:50am]
Japanese food is the greatest:
No other food can compare
As the odor of
The meat department of Save on Foods
Hangs silently in the air.
The esthetic bliss of cold raw fish,
Still staring at me on my plate
Seafood in a barely dead state.
While gelatanous clumps of cold white rice
And a paste that tastes like burning
Makes everything just nice!
|Generic Mall Kiosk Worker
||[02 May 2004|09:28pm]
I put on my best face,
Inwardly jeering as you take the bait.
It's a cold hard world out there,
And the weather forcast
Tilt my head,
Avert my gaze.
I see history repeat
In another consumer
Walking by me in a haze.
Saliva is foaming at the corners of his mouth
And of course child tugging at his pant leg
"Daddy can I have that puh-lease?"
Another generation of
Detactched from what is really important
Because he just wants Nikes...
And the verdict is GUILTY
Of being a slave
To the almighty buck.
But who could possibly resist
For a limited time only
Don't pay for one full year?
Yes folks, fulfill your
Unending spending needs here,
Gorge the eternal hunger.
Your lives are empty,
Unless your wallets are open.
Let the size of the hypnotic neon sign
Determine your spending needs.
You know you want to.
Your punishment is a life sentence
Of living next to your neighbours,
Who really do have it all.
You greedy bastard.