| time capsule |
[02 Dec 2009|09:10pm] |
cold drops of water fall
off her cheek. she awakes to find
her grandmothers collection
of dolls, her own face freshly painted
she has a poster that reads out
your rights if you ever get stopped
by the police, because she
used to hang with a rougher crowd
at twenty seven she'd have new reason to live
an empty apartment with a small bed
and a well fed cat.
her lips bring autumn, i wrote
five years ago, thinking what it
would be she'd say if my journal
was in her small hands. my thoughts
ran like crimson veins as my fingers
clenched. she had turned her back on me
who she held on to like a ledger,
she had all the credit for love
after five years though, I found
she was filing for bankruptcy
having burned her own soul with
the flames of her heart.
few people came to her funeral.
clutch, break--her life like a sudden
accident, she had no substance to breathe
lungs collapsed like the dreams I had
of her someday returning, like the
car she drove off in.
small dreams crept into alabaster lies
sleeping with the ghosts of my absent
goodbyes.
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[09 Nov 2009|07:33pm] |
cold and remorseless are timeless treasures
to wayfaring hearts in bloodlined
symmetry the smallest change in pace
and the wave goes away hearts descending
in shrouds of effortless winds and rains locked
inside beneath the remotest of pains a flower blooms
regardless of the springs promises that it will hang on
the dress of the breast of some lover that I never truly know
like wine dressing the wounds inside my waist stabbed
through the echoes of a night where cries of agony line the atmosphere
of the ceiling all the shadows that you write out our love
where the mornings so frightening
and the bills we had to pay are long overdue
waking up in our twenties breathing in blue
your emptiness falling through the sheets
when you sleep in your own bed
we made somehow this time
so we rest our heads solemnly
on pillows made of dreams
my blazers lapel hangs for tomorrows
work while tiredly my face lays on your breast
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[04 Nov 2009|10:42pm] |
just like steel tendons breaking the bones
of artificial bodies my heart beats for you.
as some cold machine thumping onto the
grass covered dirt pushing all the fear
into the vastness of a shadow cast
to block out the reflection of our illimitable
you and I, as mere shapes and forms
emerging from the endlessness of our
memories of each other breaths. if you
could catch apples as they fall to feed yourself
believe in my eyes which cast into you divinely
like some kind of retribution, a fall into hatred
with purpose of lighting up the true evils
of the hell we made for each other as we
clutch the seams of our bodies hoping
not to fall apart in the flames of our
souls forage into the guitars hymn, the
falls anthems into your delicate features
carving death to your liking with the knife
of love, burning away even stars to break
the skull which holds his weighty crown.
yet wings with obsidian and gems can't
cast you upwards when your eyes love
so much below. alas, the sickness has
struck and in hoping dignity you cast your
arrows song through the calypso of your
heart, and when you recall so softly the
errant eyes of purity:
picking up phones for numbers
you even don't know
observe the morning when
it's night.
things to do when you're
still alive.
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[02 Nov 2009|06:53pm] |
its a softer thing seeing your hair lay upon the table so delicately naked and too willing to offer sacrifices, like some idol from babylon your stark blonde hair lies, like your eyes which consider so many things saying exactly the opposite perhaps it could be so poisonous to see your pumps as you walk out the door at 11:30 p.m,
so
full
of
oxygen
a
temptress
to
death
who
sits
carefully
right
by
your
window
dreaming
tellingly
about
sanctity
bills
to
be
paid
waiting
for
eviction
notices
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| cystic fibrosis |
[30 Oct 2009|08:08am] |
greasy dishes piled up in the overfilled sink,
I'd have to put my whole arm in to unclog the mess,
like the feeling of wrestling you from your disease at 3 p.m.
you kept asking for more, so sweaty and us so unclean we just
did away with the sheets just to rupture our love.
i became the euphemism of my darkest stories
cheaply upon your breast I rest.
my body soaked with wine, our lips
shadows spreading venoms,
that held lilies in purest turpentine
the most fragile of bones didn't last against
your cold, all the emptiness of your leaving
all the quickness of the knife as you pressed against my body
one last time before
you said goodbye.
left me beginning to feel different
left me in a state where i had to writhe
my blood laced with ashes from the
burn you put inside
the memories of more lighter lives
and darling, i feel that the space between
your thighs was less than the the heartbeats
after your chest heaved slightly in pain unable to
draw breath from a world which couldn't bring you medicines,
loved organs left to die
seventeen years down the line.
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| cystic fibrosis |
[29 Oct 2009|04:57pm] |
there were times when there were dishes in the sink
close remininsing about the way things used to be.
i felt myself become a euphemism my darkest stories
felt like lies, all the times i held you
my body my blood soaked in wine our lips
coursed with venoms that shined with light
that held lilies in purest turpentine
the most fragile of bones didn't last against
your cold, all the emptiness of your leaving
all the quickness of the knife as you pressed against my body
one last time before
you said goodbye
left me beginning to feel different
left me in a state where i had to writhe
my blood laced with ashes from the
burn you put inside
the memories
i left before just to say thank you
for all the good times you gave me every night
and darling, i feel that the space between
your thighs was less than the the heartbeats
after your chest heaved slightly in pain unable to
draw breath from a world which couldn't bring you medicines
loved organs left to die.
seventeen years down the line.
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[05 Oct 2009|02:44pm] |
Sweet fires of my perishing-
Bathing me constantly in the hellish
Venom of this world; oh poison--
Black as night, you who cloak my heart
And as a hidden bird I emerge;
A crow, but it will not let me
Approach.
Darkest ephemeral song
That caresses my spirit
With longing
I breathe you into my heart
In the shadows of my bed.
Alone, I await your next angelic
Appearance emerging out the evening the air
That I breathe, in the golden
Of your secret verse, etched red
In the forgotten
Crevices of your heart.
Silent vows of my pale soul
Leave crimson petals in your fountain
White sheets lay across the bed
Illuminations when your eyes reach mine.
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[23 Sep 2009|09:50pm] |
small blood drops on concrete, slabs of pavement
rearranged like your symptoms degraded
we had a vigil the night you left
dark souls, candles, and me.
I remember how the shadows swore obedience,
in the depths of the nights call to my
blackened. you tell me you recall a fire
the earth has too much wind,that
our lungs might fall asleep from all the oxygen
but I swear this world is dying from the inside.
like burned nights with ashtrays,
what a cold way to say goodbye
with scars, and desperate autumn
at your heels. all our contracts signed in
the background of rains clouds.
mysterious angel of my youth,
you who rise in the spring
what are you? what constancies
do you recall? losing yourself in amber light,
your hair upon my fingertips, the taste
of my body on your lips
this eventuality strong as steel
in the backbone of your blood
that has blue eyes in your child.
shiver grey. my cloud.
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| The original |
[25 Aug 2009|06:50pm] |
Her black lace foretold
crimson kisses against white skin
which could bring the darker smaller things
white wings to lay down their sorrows. Pale
kisses on foreheads breaking the bones of past loves
in the dark evenings where the hearths of her arms
played cradle to the softness of flame.
Burning, burning
a candle left in the morning warms her fingers
as she ties strings around his heart, love lies
with the money left on a cedar table.
The birds have her soul, resolved to carry her child
the quiet heartbeats she will begin to feel
will choke her with tears. Quietly she gives birth to the first crow.
My grandfather, my ancestor, my fire.
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[24 Aug 2009|12:06am] |
The night air was humble: it was still,
but the shakiness in your voice came too soon
like the gentle seizure of my bodies heat with
the early autmn wind. If clouds were omens there
were many, an overcast sheet above eyes when
we stopped smiling. I didn't have the money
for your gas. The oldsmobile stayed parked while
we talked out bills. Strange tact was shown in the
water glass after it shivered when your salty lips
lips stopped touching it. If all these hearses and
funerals weren't enough black, I had to recall the
solemn sobs of the night your father died, just to
find something beautiful in you. Scrolls and sorcery
you thought you learned in school wouldn't do anything
to the curses left on lips as we parted.
Your eyes the haunted tombs of our love, no
explanation for my sudden passing; enough shame
to make me blind, two breaths before "I'm not in love."
my hands making their way up your blouse.
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[16 Aug 2009|10:49pm] |
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I've been having a pretty good time just chilling with friends and relaxing. I'm flying again soon, back to the Bay Area for the spring semester and it should be good finding a place. I might be living at a frat again, which would be pretty chill honestly. At any rate I've been writing very little, so I'll be spending some time this semester working on improving my writing. Well more later for sure.
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[06 Aug 2009|04:57pm] |
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Sup lj homies out there. I'm currently. Experiencing some lower aspects of life but thongs should look better soon enough, my buddy buds Aaron is coming over to jam and party hardy. I'm currently going to out patient therapy, and that is sort of a downer, but at least I've been regaining my sanity and my lust for life, indeed I'm reawakening to the lighter sides of life and my perspectives have been improving tremendously. Hopeful, I await Aarons little contribution to my life. I hope today he will innovative and play risky so I can really express myself on the set. I also think it would be a good idea to contribute to the reading of my Auden book as I've been tremendously lazy lately, however this may or mag not be as a result of my no longer working or recovering go the tremendous he'll that work was for my intellectual and creative state. I swear, Marshalls prefers the dumbest of employees and intended to burn whatever intelligence I had right of me. That is quite enough ranting, adieu..
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[21 Jul 2009|06:22pm] |
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i'm 22 today.
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[27 May 2009|05:19pm] |
Hey everyone,
I haven't written in here for quite some time, but I feel that the journals been negelected so i thought I'd write in it. I've been waiting to go back home to Michigan, where I can begin working again to make money for next semester as well as make some money to take care of my car. My mom wants me to give her money, so I figured I would cash this savings bond that i had been saving for about five years, as well as put some money forwards for my board. The family residence should do well to receive some money from me. I only hope that conflicts at home are minimized by maturity. It's been a pretty long time since I've been back, and I'm looking into having a good time and spending some time bonding with friends. This past semester was rather cold, but on the bright side I was able to pull off good grades and take care of my business. I think it'd be cool if I was doing some serious business alongside with construction work, possibly working in a law office. I've been building muscle for the past few months now, and can adequately say that my body will be prepared for intense work. I'm going to spend special time on aerobic activity so I can make it through the work day.
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[18 May 2009|06:51pm] |
the endless solemns of cement
in solitary evenings sipping at
the veins of rose colored girls
each perfume rising up touching at
the symptoms of lust
--a certain rouge.
the psychosis of alms are destitute
and bare on the
slow silhouettes of ceremonies
hollow like the bones
that remained on ashen plates
the summer sun streaking
slowly on the tanning of cements.
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[19 Apr 2009|09:50pm] |
The skulls of the fallen rest silently
on the smallest of pedestals:
The collections of kings.
Black empires of thought stretch out
from the citadels of universities
hollowed bodies: an expose of eaten minds.
Ciculations: our swine of flesh grinding
out the economies of subhuman classes
with graves marked with emptiness, forgotten souls
that murk amongst the soils a field that has been ravaged
to feed the obese, amongst those who enjoy
the silent treatment of animals their genitals
sold on the streets to feed the lusts
of the underworld; a city
whose streetcars become
homes.
a tattered flag explaining the attention
given to our wars; failure the
scars of our decadence.
a rose blooms to greet spring
and is promptly sold.
---
The pestilent fields remain below.
the bloodshed of panzers roll on in the
hells of dead soldiers whose last memories recall
the lead of bullets coming at them like rain
from an apocalyptic morning. let us recall
that their immolation gives poetic resonance
to their defeat and in the toils of their sweat
their flesh mutilated by the demons of their
lives we see the beginnings of joy in the endless hells
of cells of sadism, a masochistic heaven to rise
draped in the reds of shame the raped and the risen
locking lips in the summoning of life;
the oracles of science plan out the sombre
week.
rain falls on paris' flames
while corpses they slowly burn
their scents satiate the bowels
of an apocalyptic god
whose divinity descends in
perfect white.
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| god bless. |
[18 Apr 2009|11:59am] |
in the fires of this blood
the skulls they are ascending
in the blackest of symphonies
we remain in flame in the bowels of pigs
we destroy as the cancer that we bring
deformed sexually we speak of diseases
we'll have a party for all the managers that we've killed
let's break down the wall of green all the cash
and banks they are foreclosing. the chaos hits
the streets and our accounts are clean
we speak in scriptures and scrolls
all our wings they are burning in disrespect.
our capitalist mothers churning out flesh
for hire.
---
let's all protect our lambs. force fed
into cities-companies that need wives that
are children. we'll need cash it makes
cleanliness of filth. white eyes.
let's look down the barrels of silence
the black robes they billow in the wind. oh what a suprise
your grandmother she's rotting and you've forgotten her
life. the courts love political justice, each swine another line
let's coke the kids up. let's throw the babies from the bridges
another mass suicide to remind us, this money was divine.
let's not forget all the suits that fell off buildings when
the stock market subsided.
feast of dead. origami. the whitest lights
of hospitals when your heart attack arrives.
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| my first rap |
[13 Apr 2009|08:59pm] |
yo growing up slick
sure was a living
getting high while
on the bus sure had a feeling
all the cats up in school
they knew how to rule
wit five clips in the shit
they blew up and fooled
all the chicks with fat lips
they got beat up by dicks
just because the dudes wanted up on their clits
in the blink of an eye she was victim of crime
chorus:
oh the streets they don't lie
the bay don't play is the line
and teachers and the students always subside
to the lives of few who don't recognize
what life is: that it's valuable time
oh shit it's that bitch
that took a few lines
she's back at home and nursin her baby
more interested patrick swayze than
that her husbands getting lazy
let's step to the point
if you need to light up a joint
because change it sure don't come easy
i want to be sincere i'm not king lear
i'm not blind as a bat, not king rex
i'm a kid from the street and i hop to a beat
the creed is be clean and wear a condom
too many with disease don't want to lose blood
when instead they should be focusing on becoming alum
chorus:
oh the streets they don't lie
the bay don't play is the line
and teachers and the students always subside
to the lives of few who don't recognize
what life is: that it's valuable time
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[13 Apr 2009|07:32pm] |
The tepid winds of fate blow constantly in
the direction mortals faces. It is time that
with long ancient fingers
brushes away the condensing memory of love.
The cafe has much to offer, and when
the guitars play winter arrives slowly
in our souls. The passing of today's memory
can be seen as the great mystery of our tomorrow,
a subtle reminder of our vanishing presence
in the unending existence of our lives. The flow
of our rivers brings tears to the eyes of
the river boatman, and he recalls
when his hands were strong enough
hold the oars with grace.
Perhaps someday we will have daughters.
In the silence of their aging we can
find ourselves in the growing fields
of wheat that rises as we rest in cemeteries,
a fragile dust that doesn't tell you it will remain.
Our flesh that floats in the autumn air.
It was only the wine that night that kept you to
your organs, otherwise we would have been lost
in the space between our souls. The amber light
awakes us though, in mornings when Hamlet's mortal coil
ensnares us again, and our spirits confine themselves
to their bodies.
Tomorrows midnight cooly haunting the droning of our afternoon.
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[07 Apr 2009|04:00pm] |
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word. i have to do absolutely nothing this week and it scares the shit out of me. With respect, I might be getting dumber by the minute.
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