Bus Poetry and Other Songs
Recurring Together
The heart beats
The bass thumps
Our bodies move together
And the rhythm of the evening says:
You and me
You and me
You and me
It's the only thing I can hear anymore
The cymbals crash
My blood surges
The song changes but still
I hear the same cadence:
Us, Us, Us
Us, Us, Us
Us, Us, Us
The meter does not matter
The pattern stays the same
You came and I am with you
"We" is our song's name
"But Not as a Suppository"
It's not absurd - it makes perfect sense!
If only you think about it 7|-|15 \/\/4`/
And laughter is the
best medication
one can give to those afflicted
by the devil.
___________________________
"Untitled #1"
I talk to me a lot
but we don't get along very well
because I don't lilke me
(or is it
the other way around?)
___________________________
"Untitled #2"
In the words of that chick,
I don't go to sleep to dream;
rather, I dream when I wake
and I go to sleep for a multitude of reasons
but not to dream.
My sleeping dreams are not what I value in life;
My waking dreams are the only reason I keep sleeping.
____________________________
"Untitled #3"
Running out of steam
Starting to feel my age
The pain of being an adult
is so unlike child's pain
(which comes as suddenly as it goes);
it lingers & creeps
through my body
throughout my day.
____________________________
"Untitled #4"
I'm no fucking artist.
These "poems" & "drawings" & "paintings" & "songs"
just happen;
like my depression
they come out of me from some kind of
biological necessity
(shitting & fucking)
(painting & crying)
I have only as much control over my "art"
as I do over my body;
perfunctory -
enough that I don't embarrass myself in public.
Mr. Pretzel Twist Man & Girl in Phat Pants
"Had you been wise,
Mr. Pretzel Twist Man,
You would have sold the cheese
For a quarter, not half a dollar.
But I do not care.
I will not eat the cheese,
Mr. Pretzel Twist Man.
I will have salt instead."
"You are a strange child,
Girl in Phat Pants.
You should have the cheese
But I will give you the salt."
_____________________________
"Mr. Pretzel Twist Man Pt. 2"
"Mr. Pretzel Twist Man,
why do you carry no pickles?"
"Because I, you foolish young boy,
am the Pretzel Twist Man."
"But Pretzel Twist Man,
I would buy your wares.
But there are no pickles
so I must find another kiosk."
Mr. Pretzel Twist Man
begins to reconsider things.
"Maybe the old ways are no longer good,"
he mutters as he wheels his cart away.
__________________________
"Mr. Pretzel Twist Man and Man in Black" or "Pt. 3"
Girl in Phat Pants
comes back and brings
a Man in Black
to the pretzel kiosk.
Man in Black says,
"How much for a corndog?"
Mr. Pretzel Man sighs.
"Two ninety-five. And mustard?"
Man in Black eats
his corndog with mustard.
He thanks Mr. Pretzel Twist Man
and the Girl in Phat Pants smiles.
________
"Ores Mutant" ("faces changing")
Faces changing their direction
altering their shape and form;
Perception's differed from the past -
naught's according to the norm.
Hipster with the low-slung hips
crooning in the psychedelic rain
"Noone remembers your name"
Overrepeated refrain
In Borneo did Diamond run
and foolish theories did apply
to animalian humanoids
chimpanzees in the sky
"too many eggs are in this basket"
the Heinleiner did decry
the deplorable state of our planet
not enough humans under only one sky
Spread across the universe
alter all our shapes and forms
fear not the blessed difference
avoid both the mob and the norms.
_____________________________
"The Speculatory Mirror"
Madness falling softly on
the road less taken
(is often paved
with good intentions)
alter your perceptions
to gain new perspectives
An academic memetic epidemic
objective, subjective, perspective
_____________________________
"Pandora's Box"
Sweet lies we tell ourselves
of loves & sunshine & glory
of miracles & gods & joy
of kindness & truth & beauty
Such honey-coated bile.
We open our hearts & in them we see
Such things to make us cower,
& try to slam them shut
before more flies out to eat us
in the dark.
Rape & murder
Treachery & infidelity
greed & lust & ignorance & impiety
But after it's closed,
we look back in fear
& hope is the shining white -
the biggest lie of all
It encrusts the heart like fat on an anorexic.
"Eternally Falling"
What do I see in my crystal ball?
My crystalline balls, thousands
falling
falling
falling
shattering on cement
hard, cold rock and glass and steel
shattering before my thoughts
my balls of crystal
before my thoughts come to fruition
smash smash smash smash
smash smash smash smash
And then I am flitting off again
over the concrete,
watching the way the light reflects in the shards
the crystal shards on concrete
on cement and glass and steel and cold
and crystalline structures need heat & pressure
to grow
don't they?
I've plenty of pressure
all around
all around
no heat
no heat, though, in my stone & steel world
my cold world
my aweless world
fascination, perhaps
but empty
it's empty in and of itself
and I don't want to believe in anything
(when you believe you can be betrayed)
(reality's a bitch)
but I can't not believe in something
So I go with cold hard unforgiving truth
and I need to be forgiven
(for what?)
I don't know why.
What I did in my childhood so long ago
was lost in some storm of hormones during puberty
And I keep being thankful
that my hormones are settled down
but they aren't.
I can feel the chemical imbalance
still rampant
and I think
"maybe the woman who was going to
climb around
inside my head (and push buttons)
maybe she could have actually helped."
but no
because then (for that to happen)
I'd have to believe in her
and her (pseudo)science.
and if I believe in it, it will betray me.
(I will not be betrayed again. CRASH I'll rip CRASH out the hearts CRASH
of my betrayers past CRASH & drink their blood CRASH and CRASH
laugh with CRASH unholy glee CRASH as I dance CRASH naked CRASH on the
church CRASH during CRASH their CRASH wakes CRASH
STOPPIT.
)
Something stands up and screams inside my head
and for a moment the balls falling
freeze
And I look at this frozen cold world construct
and those icy thoughts sparkling hanging in
the air
some already breaking, the shards like
petals
spread from the unbroken dome
and it's beautiful
I scream in fear,
my wailing makes reality GO again
and I'm in the middle of all these
frozen thoughts
& they fall & crash & the flying shards
they cut me
and some balls hit me before they hit the concrete
and the shards are imbedded in my skin
and my brain matter
and my eyes
sparkle with the crystal
I'm so shiny now
pretty? (am I?) (Tell me
I am. I need to hear lies
to remind me that reality has no place
for my kind.)
If you are a dreamer, come in!
Come be bashed by these crystals!
You, too, can be disillusioned for only $538
and a trip to Nevada!
(is that when this all began?
No.
Much earlier than that.)
And I am an infant child
sitting in front of a bookcase.
and these books have many
pretty pictures like
smoke rings and
dragons
and later the books contain black, unfocused
smudgy marks.
And then A
and B
and CDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
are clear.
The books change
Pictures with a dialogue.
Thoughts become words,
but all the books are missing pages.
I don't know where all the pages
went.
Some storm
Some monster (puberty?)
came along & ripped out the innards
of my books
& ate some & flung others about
and put some in other books
ones I have & haven't read yet.
So much I don't know.
So much I do know & still don't understand.
Will I ever understand?
(What is there to understand?)
Smash
smash
smash
smash
the pain breaks my reverie again.
I run, dodging the balls, but poorly.
my bare feet slipping in the crystal shards,
the shards and my blood,
and I don't know where I'm running
because this blackness interspersed with bright falling
goes on
forever
and I hold forever in my head.
and I scream
LET ME OUT
but you can't escape forever
nobody can open a window
in the darkness
and let you out of the cold black into warm green
and blue
No.
trapped
trapped
trapped
you stay in forever
forever stays in you
and oneday
you'll go mad because of it.
And if you don't go mad
it's because you died first.
"La Primavera"
So many colors in the morning sun, I see.
These days, when I feel winter on my skin
but spring in my eyes
I wonder what love is
& you tell me what's in your heart.
And there are times now, yes,
when I feel a fire between my legs
and think of you
& that burning in my mouth.
And I wonder what love is.
Mere physicality, I know it's not.
Nor is it something stronger than friendship.
I know this because I feel both for him and you
and I tell myself I love him but not you.
But am I only telling myself this
or do I really believe it?
Do I even know what love is to say who I love?
And I think all this as you talk to me
and feel winter on my skin.
Maybe it is love - maybe that's what brings spring
to my eyes.
"Sanity"
i am slowly going crazy
a song weaves its way through my skull
i sit solitary within my head
and watch it echo by
i am slowly going crazy
slowly going crazy
going crazy
crazy
the darkness consumes me as the song fades out of my memory
the spotlight gets smaller
and i see the floor sizzle at the edges
an all consuming heat
but the darkness is gloriously cold
can someone turn out the light?
i touch the perimeter and my hand receives a shock
the diameter shrinks
ive huddled up but it edges closer
i tight my eyes screw
and feel the edge begin to touch
the current runs through me
closer to my centre
my heart beats faster and the crackle starts to burn
i fear the smell of burning flesh
is coursing through the air
singed skin smell demons laugh in my nose
and suddenly the heat is gone
i open cautiously my eyes
and see the empty stool in the spotlight several feet away
a trail appears through the dark
stools in the spotlight trailing away
i turn and see a door lit
a door a door adore a dore
what is adoration? (love?)
(the door changes to a fluffy heart shaped pillow)
is it like fish that swim upstream to fulfill a physical need?
a need (the heart is a river)
is it like babbies that need the person
attached to the milk sac they are nourished from?
nourishing (and tributaries course through it)
is it like nursing a beloved wound,
one received from fighting for what one believes in?
belief (and a small tree feeds on it but is cut for a cross)
is it like a god that calls on us to believe and worship?
a megalomaniac albeit benevolent entity floats somewhere
above our heads and under our feet
and all around
in some expanse of perfection
surrounding us
are we encompassed in beauty?
is our world swathed in absolute perfectness?
then wars are perfect
and criminals, annointed, are perfect for us
are we perfect, then?
are we flawless?
then what need we of a savior?
of a government to instruct us?
beings of perfection cannot commit acts of imperfection
is evil perfect?
we should think not, but then if we are perfect
and we do evils upon ourselves and others
we are still perfect
a perfect system
what then of perfection?
why care i how perfect you and he are not?
how he can think i am not perfect
sees he an evil?
evil is perfect
what of he sees an evil in my perfectness?
nothing
evil matters not
let us not worry of perfection
perfection is evil
evil is perfection
i break the cross down and split it on my knee
shattering glass
splintered wood
i suddenly realize i jumped through a window
stained glass with some criminal's blood
and surrounded, i see myself, by barbed wire
and dogs are chasing my soul
the spotlight again
i jump
i run
i sail above the barbed wire
damnedblondebimbo
and hit the ground running
running
id run to eternity if i could forget i was on a treadmill
but i cannot forget things i don't have to worry about
so i step off & watch life go by
tomorrow, wendy's going to die
"poor girl" they'll whisper at her funeral
& i'll look at her plush, silk lined casket
& stare the beautiful death girl in her face
and grasp a life symbol with my hands
i'll rip it off her neck
like removing a noose
and she'll smile and fade
and her job will be done
i'll wake up in that small box
curious
it smells like wendy
then i realize that i am wendy
and i scream
and let it echo in my head
i follow the echo into my ear
& see me singing on a stool
somewhere in my brain
and that damn crazy song echoes through me again
i hate it when i repeat myself
i go deeper & deeper into me
taking that same journey further in
and suddenly there is no room
too much of me fills my head
and so i take a gun out and shoot me all down
huh
i guess i forgot
there's more than one me
and we all think like me
can't escape yourself
and that gunshot was fatal
dammit
_________________________
Bus Poetry
Resolutions & Determinations
I am resolved
to no longer write you poetry
or songs, or to draw pictures
attempting to capture what I saw
that was beautiful in you.
Instead I will close myself off
marinating, pregnant with anger
and unresolved frustrations.
I am determined
to move on from your friendship
or enmity; I am no longer sure which
applies to the person I thought
I knew or believed was you.
Instead I will progress onward
to new relationships potent and heady
with undetermined conclusions.
Truth & Lies
Honesty, sweet nicety
to clean the air of fabrication
openness, outspokenness
preventing vile omission
Mendacity, prevarication
the falsehood and the lie
if you leave it out of what you say
it is the same as the commission
An Imperfect Sonnet for a Stranger
I know nothing about you
but a few quiet facts
Your age and your race -
in short, your demographics.
But none of this is you
The you I hope to love
The you who fancies meeting me
And I am apprehensive of
I simply can't imagine
the truths which will abound
When finally we meet
And grant the future sound
Till then I am here waiting
Anticipatory hope
Bewilders and fulfills me
And forces me to cope
And my febrile dreams will hang
Like desire from some monster's fang.
Untitled
"Leaves are falling all around"
And I know the end is near
The fall is a time for telos
For the breath of life to clear
The results of man's creation
Shudder forward, unawares
Whilst nature in her glory
Softly lays her snares
The time is up, the song is done
the fire sputters out
O'er the last of the embers
Men do rage and shout
And all along the haze of death
Envelops e'en the best of us
Neither king nor beggar nor middle-class citizen
escapes decay and rot and pus
But in the spring the life returns
And once more, the fire burns.
Contraction
Why must depression,
anger, or some other angst
ever accompany creative inspiration?
Must pain be
the constant companion to
the birth throes of newness?
Whence comes the great work
of joy? of happiness? of peace? of satisfaction?
Can I not express myself
if I am not miserable?
Or am I doomed to suffer
if ever I wish to produce art?
—-----–----------------------------
"The Reluctant Hetero"
Dissonant wailings assail my ears
But soothe my nerves and calm my fears
Arrhythmic beatings provide me joys
Despite my lover's manipulative ploys
I seem so young despite my years
I cry out loud yet no one hears
I'm giving up on girls and toys
And resolve instead to chase the boys
And even if they do not please
I stand to snare them with more ease
While they don't care for my heart
At least I won't be torn apart
__________________________________
"For M"
I cannot stand this dishonesty
You say one thing and do another
And I know not who or what to believe
Your words or your hands
All is lost, all is dead
And I am giving up
Pursuit, inquiry & all goals
In hopes that through detachment
I can achieve tranquility
Like the unruffled pond
Empty of all things superficial
And underlying
________________________________
"Kudzu"
omnivorous
you consume everything in sight
you even eat my insight
and the only things
which keep you at bay
are cold steel and fire
like the vine that ate the south
there is no end to your mouth
ravenous and greedy
but mindlessly groping
for your next meal
____________________________
"Private Agony"
The cynic in me knows
it is inevitable
that I will move on
and I will move away
and I will fall in love again
And yet
the pain is fresh
the wounds are new
and I want nothing more
than to hurt you or to love you
Oh! Such pain
I would give you if I could
But still I hold out hope
for some fantastic future
And were I to lash out
I'd surely crush that dream
So I will not scream at you
and I will not berate you
nor shall I assault you
in hopes of keeping my hopes
alive.
____________________________
"Swan Song?"
There is no love
There is no joy
All the world has stopped
I cannot sleep
I cannot eat
My pain cannot be topped
And if I were
a little old
I might could handle this
But I cannot
forget the night
When you gave me your kiss
For all my life
For all my days
There shall not be another
And I will mourn
And I will grieve
You will not be my lover
"Maddening"
Maddening, maddening, maddening
You will drive me utterly insane
With your absence
or your presence
To be by your side is intoxicating
And to be without you is torture
So I sit here while my brain whirls
Round, round, round
in circles and curliques and spirals
To want you
To *lack* you
Is to be eternally frustrated
And hopelessly lost
Thus I remain, aching with hope for your
Maddening, maddening, maddening
_______________________________
"Courtship Song"
Do you want me to court you?
And I,
laying wild flowers (tiger
lilies, dandy lions, snap
dragons) outside your door,
ringing the bell,
and running away giddy
shall only next ask
How do you want me to court you?
I could
draw portraits of you as an elven queen
and write you sweet songs
(of course I’d have to learn how to play the lyre
or the harpsichord
to perform them properly).
I could
fight battles for you
and bring you back spoils of war, like
garnets and sapphires, giant brass shields,
and glittering vials of our enemies’ blood.
O femina gloriosissima,
et pulcherrima,
et ardentissima,
et sapientissima,
when I gaze
upon your shining visage
I am like Dante and his Beatrice
(sans his courtliness with regards to his love)
and could do anything you might
require
of me.
_______________________________
A song: "Every day"
Every day
every waking hour
I am lying here
wondering about you my dear
Every day
every passing moment
I don’t know what I’m wanting
wondering about you dear
Would you like to go
on a mystery tour of some foreign land
would you like to show me
something innocent and grand
every day
every thing people say
I connect to you
and what you do
and don’t know how I’ll live without you
every day
every lingering tear
every sound and smell that passes near
listening quiet and clear
_________________________
Another song: "For a woman"
Hard or soft?
How do you want my love?
My body screams with desire for you, dear,
And I cannot stand the distance between us two.
Fast or slow?
Will we reach our goals?
Will longing torture me no more, nor you, dear?
And I will share my heart with you if you share yours too.
"Red Beans and Rice"
Chorus:
Red beans,
Honey, I got red beans and rice
Well my baby gone and left me
All I got's some red beans and rice
I woke up in the morning
I found I was all alone
I went into the kitchen
Lord what have I found
(Chorus)
I ain't got no sausage
I ain't got no cheese
I ain't even got no hot sauce
No cornbread left to please but there's red beans
(Chorus)
Well I ain't got no money
I certainly have no take
I'm living on my own now
What can I possibly make but red beans
(Chorus)
So if you leave your baby
You leave him all alone
Don't bother to talk to him
No, don't even phone
Just get red beans
Baby give him red beans and rice
If you're gonna leave your honey
At least leave him with some red beans and rice
Red beans and rice...
Lament for My Mother
I
I want
I want my
I want my mother
I want my mother, God
I want my mother, God
Not the one who left me
But one who loves me
And will make me happy
I
I wanted
I wanted mother
I wanted mother when
I wanted mother when
I buried her mother
Alone with my sister
And my love
She
She was
She was only
She was only a
She was only a thousand miles away
She was only a thousand miles away
With a man who was dying
And she knew I was here
Alone tho surrounded and crying
So
So give
So give me
So give me back
So give me back some other
So give me back some other
A woman, God, who loves me
Perhaps a mother of my heart
Not the one gone from the start
|
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