| (no subject) |
[Dec. 6th, 2009|12:39 am] |
the trees shake down September
like dysentery, and churches sit on their
corners and wait, and the streetcars are slow,
and everywhere
birds fly, cats walk, people ruefully
exist...
the charmers are gone, the armies have put down
their arms, the druid's drunk, the horses have tossed
their dice; there are no fires, the phone won't ring,
the factory's closed, tenesmus, everything...
I think
even the schizomycetes are sleeping
I think
the horror of no action is greater
than the scorch of pain; death is the
barker, but things
may get better
yet. I'll use the knives for spreading
jam, and the gas to warm
my greying love.
-- c.b. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 10th, 2009|01:24 am] |
he's sleeping in his shoes & dreaming
of the worst living dirty lies believing
in reverse he break into the church to
burglarize the father gettin older by the
second if seconds even bother oh but the
girl she comes around he was lost where
she found him the girl though she might
get to him he might never get to the girl
he hide behind the look that's written in
the eye he's lower than the rain cause it's
falling from the sky.
(dr dog) |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 9th, 2009|11:16 pm] |
like a sigh, cripplestrut through the field of dreams & greetings from a distance of 100 yds or more going blue in the face just to ask-- which were the lessons in the dangers of close proximity?
must be the weather, or the bellyful of rocks. |
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| directed manifestation of destiny? |
[Nov. 9th, 2009|02:34 am] |
so said the four-eyed man to the kingdom of the blind:
listen when they shake, their skin flapping against their bones rattling against their meat pressing against their minds all misguided, with truths falling out of their mouths like teeth-- passwords & keys unlocking visions behind closed doors you know you never knew about. blank blank blank blank blank
i'm subdelerious
sitting on the backburner playing second fiddle to a snake.
& spiders beneath the surface of skin, pins & needles on a bed of fire under restriction of the watchful eye; there's laws & there's The Law & there's the unseen always watching up in smoke. under the weather's thumb, little whispers under weight of more than their worth. you're given a freeform chance to walk the plank for a shot at closed eyes
but you
don't.
& all those words stashed in a box under the bed, excepting the popular phrases & salutations. "" "" "" |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 14th, 2009|03:51 am] |
directed by chris milk.
music by gnarls barkley. |
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| please, pour this man a drink! |
[Sep. 10th, 2009|09:17 pm] |
fie. a dead man dying with his head between his knees, connotation saying don't it mean what it seems? dressed in the clothes of another man's words. cloaked in the skin of another man's song. inhale into these things & out of them, staccato as it must be in a fluid movement rushing forward. exhale twentyfour karat pyrite dust of disintegration & recoagulated skeletons, sudden necessity like a prayer, too sweet to be sour. if only it could be said without being so outspoken, over & over & over it(s head).
dot dot dot means it never stops, but in the end... |
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| "i thought you were a believer. someone who wanted to blog about their ideals." |
[Sep. 7th, 2009|10:51 pm] |
outside, the sky is all fire & black. through some subtle few seconds a disastrous light illuminates everything unseen, from a million miles away the clamoring is faint but falls with consiberable weight upon my ears. of remembering, i have this to say-- uhhhmmmmm
am i not living juxtaposed to a memory? to a time when a cigarette & a bit of whiskey was exciting enough to break me into passionate confession. marlboros & jack daniels no less. nowadays it's all i can do to sleep. even tonight, like then, i am somehow smoking marlboros, & i suffer their chemical headache staring into the veins of the sky, shining on everything unseen, a million miles away. they are beautiful carriers of destruction, reaching down from so far above the surface of the earth which is where, we suppose, it all happens-- it it it
honestly i can't stop proclaiming. it's not just a word that i keep saying, you see? my head is a hauler of the weight of what my heart demands to know-- no?
but i meant it when i said that if love were a time without hour or minute i will wait. this promise once delivered in writing i uphold with every inhalation. still the days when this is not a secret are always the best. & of chronicling, i have this to say-- aahhhhh
there is a volume rising from every moment of thought that lingers as it must clinging then to what was not. all those having lost their proximity soon find a misplaced sense of devotion once bestowed unto them. as if it had a limited radius of transmission. if i breathe now tell me will i have to hold it in? whether i turn blue or green i'll go belly up before i turn yeller-- er...
honestly though, as honesty goes, i can only try to give what sounds but never shows. & to this i devote, line for line, anything i may ever assume to somehow be mine. i shove a pint of vehemence in my pocket, walking through the door & stop rhyming because what i'm trying to say has no phonetic resemblance to anything. really. but i .... ... . |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 4th, 2009|02:09 pm] |
bluebird came to me tonight
waiting patiently for light
she said i know that you will grieve
but my darlin i must leave
bluebird say it is not so
please i cannot hear you speak
it must be that you're so tired
in the darkness of the night
why do they say bluebird is dead?
i can still see her, touch her,
my bluebird
the love that she gave
i don't believe
no, no, i don't believe
(the electric light orchestra.) |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 12th, 2009|02:11 pm] |
the memories we've buried have just taken seed
when springtime comes they'll turn into weeds
& they'll creep through your window to smother your dreams
you know fate has a funny way of coming around.
-dr dog.
plus reliable news! |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 22nd, 2009|03:22 pm] |
"This is at least the fifth high-profile executive suicide in as many months.
In January, German billionaire investor Adolf Merckle, who lost a fortune in shorted Volkswagen stock, threw himself under a commuter train. Patrick Rocca, an Irish property investor who lost millions when the real estate market bottomed out, waited until his wife took their children to school before he shot himself in the head. Outside Chicago, real estate mogul Steven Good was found dead in his Jaguar, apparently from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.
And three days before Christmas, Rene-Thierry Magon de la Villehuchet killed himself in his 22nd-floor office in Manhattan. He'd lost his entire savings, and his clients' money, to Madoff's alleged Ponzi scheme."
AND
"woman burnt to death after setting her own car alight in road-rage incident"... |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 13th, 2009|05:48 pm] |
saboteur of all things golden, connoisseur of all things broken,
knock knock aknockin at your door. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 12th, 2009|10:27 pm] |
as though you had for once been to someone what so many people had been to you-- it was a given when you took it for something it was not, & you sleep on that for the rest of your days. all the way up to making the declaration, with a heart that stutters & sighs;
no reply. |
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| the great disappearance. |
[Apr. 7th, 2009|12:51 pm] |
they always lived with that funny feeling that once they were gone they would never come back... & where were they now, wondering, thoughtless, less & less; i tell you my love withers endlessly out of season, & memory comes like a steam roller, without regard. the light can't dawn on the darkness quicker than i'm breathless sucking air struggle long enough to sustain just one single moment, suspended in the grain of disbelief;
they say things & turn away but know better as they lay awake, tomorrow may come but there are no new days. the flowers are blooming but the sky is still so high. some days it opens up & all these things are upon our heads.
did you at that point remember like a jackhammer how we were shaken & defeated, or can you now rest in peace, though you never did in life--
or do you take this, too, with you? loveless, less & less, carrying this timer inside us, nursing death like a newborn, & it always is.. |
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| &&& |
[Mar. 25th, 2009|01:20 pm] |
they fashioned into signs based on a word so overspoken it's so rarely heard what can only be seen & pointing noooooowhere(but a mirror facing straight into the dark) you only failed to see the absence of light once the day gave way to the abundance of night.
/exaggerated the human condition & masked it in a textbook definition saying mind is only water that's been poured into a cup (but these explanations never really were enough) so when the rain came falling you went to bed alone knowing that everyone's afraid to be never leaving home. as for me, forcefed what i said to a mind that's only matter but could it be, i don't believe they mistook the stairway for the ladder & the forest for the trees was such a beautiful thing before we knew what heights devastation could reach. see, no damn cat, no damn cradle, no damn love till you're willing & able, & still lay in wait like a spider webbing wishing for a meal & give all you ever had for a life sentence disguised as a deal. |
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| squeal like a pig when you... |
[Jan. 19th, 2009|12:06 pm] |
i concede to apathy but plead get back at me the things i once used to see the light within&out of me, i've got a busty box of tools which are faulty mechanisms in defense of my keeper's disjointed mannerisms, in a life or death hypothetical don't give a fuck situation i sit crosslegged as the sun sets cold on my distressed meditation.
"cause you'll sleep for hours to keep away then sink the teeth & bat your eyes." |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 15th, 2009|10:26 pm] |
yeah, no biggie, it's only the funniest thing EVER in the whole fucking world, that's all. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 14th, 2009|05:50 pm] |
out in the garden where we planted the seeds
there is a tree as old as me
branches were sewn by the color of green
ground had arose and passed its knees
by the cracks of the skin i climbed to the top
i climbed the tree to see the world
when the gusts came around to blow me down
i held on as tightly as you held onto me.
(the cinematic orchestra.)
uuuhhhhmmmm. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 11th, 2009|03:16 pm] |
i say bullshit & try to ratify the things that i thought were truly something bigger than your everyday goodbyes but even constancy leaves something lacking i'm sure in the heart you thought was pure but sixty-five percent water thirty-six percent black was the first figure listed on the doctor's last check,
life is like a jailor standing outside the door
& he just jingles his fucking keys but you don't turn around
curl up with the sweet reminiscence of such a short time ago
staring at the concrete walls from the cold concrete ground.
most were better left less spoken
some were fixed only to be broken
no kidding one penny two thoughts & three tokens
some words are worth less than spit. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 2nd, 2009|10:18 pm] |
i wanted what i couldn't get
so i settled for second best
it was a red pack pall mall cigarette
it was the last one i had left. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 17th, 2008|11:49 am] |
the greatest love i have ever learned
is to love and be loved
in return.
(the abyssinians) |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 10th, 2008|05:11 pm] |
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so i swear it happens just like that, apparently necessity suffered nostalgia sneak attack & seeking to fall back on what once was before left them less, but trying, but thinking of more in things that haven't quite come to fruition (all the while four seasons circumscribe the terms of my commission.) |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 22nd, 2008|02:02 pm] |
check out this superphatty myspace plug:
BLAOW!
oui oui bon bons & all that stuff. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 30th, 2008|03:12 pm] |
life is just so happysad! would you believe me if i said it, or if i wrote it on the ground? two million miles & one million days down, brutalized & bold but italicized against not ever letting go of the stronghold recommended irreversible glitch i never really held so much more against an itch than i can SCRATCH. i peered down the wastehatch & separated it in two finding within some of it me & some of it you.
they say run with it but i'm telling you i've hauled this weight for days. anyway,
( music ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 29th, 2008|10:58 pm] |
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"i was up all night with a rusty hammer trying to build a fence around these magic beans my dreams have gathered. but to that certain lack of avail, i sail a choppy lot with bouyancy like a bucket of rocks." |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 7th, 2008|09:12 pm] |
we have met all our brothers & moved on, for this land is for others & this path is long-- & you rise till that good lord say, son, you're at the end of your day. & for every life lived i've seen another sun set & awaken buddhafaced to the sound of ten thousand angels strumming harps in hell; another moon wax poetic, syntactic with stars, thoughts become mingled with bodily noise, & here you are hearing ten thousand mouths screaming disgrace as though words came from somewhere in a hole in the face--!
please, please, how long have you known? determination is fate unfolding in threes, pleading proposals on knee bent by disease-- if it ain't the devil in you it's the angel in me. |
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| yeah word son. |
[Apr. 29th, 2008|03:58 pm] |
The T Club Brings it Together
By BOBBY SEUS
for the Mail Tribune
April 25, 2008
( ... ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 1st, 2008|02:36 pm] |
there are times when i feel my self cloaked around my own heart, & compressing-- others when i am not my self but am ascending as a beam of light, & ultimately receptive. there are times even still when i feel you solid in the pit of my stomach. but also there are times when there is no work, & there is no play, there is only the crosslegged reflection on the vibration that is creation-- when days spent outside of time pass only to find that in fact they have been years. & the clock ticks banalities, like, "two:twentyone," tock. those who listen lay their lives down on the table & say, "take it, for it is too long, only give me $twotwentyone for it." so it is that we continue to roll each other around, like an avalanche, each being a snowflake. indeed, having put these words in ink, i have put your life on the path that leads to reading them. you, having read them, continue putting the pen in my hand.
leaves sway in the breeze, raindrops frolic through the air as loftily as gravity will allow, beginnings continually pass through ends & still we say "no, i am not that." |
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| you pluck your eyes out of heaven, i rip your heart out of hell. |
[Mar. 1st, 2008|11:35 am] |
"therefore, for the most illuminated souls who have ever lived in this world, as for the greatest of all the prophets of india-- their whole life was music. from the miniature music which we understand, they expanded themselves to the whole universe of music, & in that way they were able to inspire. the one who finds the key to the music of the whole working of life-- it is he who becomes intuitive; it is he who has inspiration; it is he to whom revelations manifest, for then his language becomes music.
every object we see is revealing. in what form? it tells us its character, nature, & secret. every person who comes to us tells us his past, present, & future. in what way? every presence explains to us all that it contains. in what manner? in the form of music-- if only we can hear it. there is no other language: it is rhythm, it is tone. we hear it, but we do not hear it with our ears. a friendly person shows harmony in his voice, his words, his movements & manner. an unfriendly person, in all his movements, in his glance & expression, in his walk, in everything, will show disharmony-- if only one can see it. i used to amuse myself in india with a friend who became cross very easily. sometimes when he visited me i would say: 'are you cross to-day?' he would ask: 'now how do you know i am cross to-day?' i replied: 'your turban tells me. the way you tie your turban does not show harmony.'
...in every living being you can see this, & if you look with an open insight into the nature of things, you will read even in the tree-- the tree that bears fruit or flower-- what music it expresses."
hazrat inayat khan. the mysticism of sound & music. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 26th, 2008|12:16 pm] |
"for a table to exist, we need wood, a carpenter, time, skillfulness, & many other causes. & each of these causes needs other causes to be. the wood needs the forest, sunshine, the rain, & so on. the carpenter needs his parents, breakfast, fresh air, & so on. & each of those things, in turn, has to be brought about by other conditions. if we continue to look in this way, we'll see that nothing has been left out. everything in the cosmos has come together to bring us this table. looking deeply at the sunshine, the leaves of the tree, & the clouds, we can see the table. the one can be seen in the all, & the all can be seen in the one ... cause & effect inter-are."
thich nhat hanh. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 21st, 2008|12:50 pm] |
transformation in a temporal sense, finding the tempo of flow & flux, micrometer in this living music. how many seconds occupy a moment? how many moments in a second? this is eternity in a ticktock sort of way. but to feel the sunshine-- this is the sum of the steps in my tread, abstraction of experience slowcooked, boiled down to a potent extraction of divinity.
i am breath? no, i am hunger. i am body? no, i am mind. no, i am spirit! no, i am, not. |
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| all is like water but i do not get wet. |
[Feb. 18th, 2008|08:46 pm] |
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all these parts of me having blossomed into butterflies, why do i still feel like such a caterpillar? it's not about pride, it's about having a little something to be proud of. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 14th, 2008|12:51 pm] |
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i'm thinking my goodness how can i manage my way into cooking dinner for this girl & calling her on the telephone & etcetera vanities like these, she's talking about nothing being expected of you in the soft animal of your body loving what it loves... then i think about standing in the cold air & warm sunshine, eating a sandwich, rolling a cigarette-- & the bliss in this succession of moments is the bliss that is the fullness of my self. i need not seek to enmesh myself in that which is fully immersed in the eternal being of its own self. & yet, we mesh! we merse! we tangle in a tango within & without the moments. meanwhile silence is continually falling on my waiting ears, & it is these lessons that i try truly to cultivate in my heart. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 11th, 2008|09:58 pm] |
if ideas can get in, can they not get out? my blood is circulating, i swear it is, & my heart is beating, i'm sure it is, & thoughts keep thinking, but can all these things not escape me? but then, my life is,-- can it not escape me?
life is not mine at all, it is only something i partake in. life is, & has no death.
+
selfishness is self-destructive. self-destructive action is selfishness. essence finds its niche in paradox, blankets itself from pole to pole-- so this, you see, must be essence. i have seen a fly, a spider, & a bee. i have seen one sun, two tulips, & three wildflowers. i have seen death become the very richness of life. i have always known this time would come, but i haven't waited long enough.
inasmuch as body is shelter for the soul, what is nourishment? not mind, not senses, not this, not this... some buy their soul at the market-- mine i will cultivate in my own garden. my body will not be my temple, my mind will not be my altar, my being will be my eden.
THIS SOUNDS SERIOUS i think to myself, rolling a cigarette, & laugh, laugh, laugh. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 3rd, 2008|04:05 pm] |
"there comes a time when one asks even of shakespeare, even of beethoven, is this all?"
alduous huxley. |
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| squirrel nut zippers. |
[Dec. 22nd, 2007|08:58 pm] |
they say all the boys are monsters, all the girls are whores
so when you lose the one you love, there's always plenty more. |
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| sing song sing |
[Dec. 21st, 2007|12:01 am] |
life is good but sometimes it is so hard to be
knowledge spans the decade to century
i know that one plus one is two but if you do disagree
well then you've got to let me know so i can try to see
what it is that separates the you from me.
love & loneliness
we've come to understand that there is nothing beyond this
but if if you look then you may find that in the reaches of the mind
there is no barrier existing between misery & bliss
everything we have is everything we will miss. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 15th, 2007|11:38 pm] |
indeed:
what better place on this earth is there to belong than amongst family?
what better friends than those constantly tornadoed into the eye of one's own storm?
what better than to presently be existing in memory?
in this we know Birth, Life, Death, the journey into death being the backward-walking quest for birth... supposing life to be merely the unquantifiable gestation period of the soul, birthed upon death according to the essence of its quality-- in the face of this fiftyfifty truth, whether it be or not, can we not justify stressing over parking tickets or garbage day or the attractiveness of our winter coats?
we can. & with the weight of true truth infinitely pressed upon our minds, we find that only when we are alone is there nothing more objective than illusion in deed. |
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| in desperate need of a little more religion to nurse your godlike point of view... |
[Dec. 1st, 2007|05:39 pm] |
even as of old, when the babe krishna had opened his little mouth to cry, & his grieved foster-mother, bending over him, had seen the great vision of the Universe within his lips, so now again, on the field of battle, he showed to arjuna his Universal Form.
first in a kind of swift mystic chant came the words, "i am the soul, O arjuna, seated in the heart of every being. i am the beginning, the middle, & the end of all things. vishnu amongst the gods am i, amongst lights i am the sun. i am the mind amongst the senses, the moon amongst the stars. amongst the waters, i am the Ocean himself. amongst trees, the Ashwattha am i; amongst weapons the thunderbolt; and Time amongst events. of rivers i am the Ganga. of created things i am the beginning, middle, & end. Time Eternal am i, & the Ordainer with face turned on every side! i am death that seizeth all, & the source of all that is to be. i am the splendor of those that are splendid. i am Victory, i am Exertion, i am the goodness of the good. i am the Rod of those that chastise, & the Policy of them who seek victory. i am Silence among things that are secret, & the knowledge of those possessed of knowledge. that which is the seed of all things, i am that! supporting this entire Universe with a portion only of my strength, & stand!"
the wonderful voice died away & all the senses of arjuna, smitten as it were for a moment, lay stilled & trembling, realizing that, living or dead, all beings were equally one in god, & realizing too that even what seemed his own acts were not his own, but the lord's done through him ... but what he had understood in those few seconds, it took all his after-life to express. nay, when it came to be written down, it took many words.
-- from the mahabharata. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 12th, 2007|08:25 pm] |
i drive backwards through town with the emergency brake on, i try to build houses with a box full of screwdrivers, i constantly wonder who i am & who is this daily new man whose house is my home? my brain is a bucket of bloodclots with ideas like single digit lottery balls suspended in a vaccuum, ideas with the grace of a bird but with the aerial proficiency of a chicken. & i'm too happy for words-- these words only come from the dissatisfaction of speechlessness. & my words have weight, or at least mass, & my footsteps make mountains, my breaths are powered by jet engines, my shivers send shockwaves across the valley-- the neighbors' dogs all begin to bark, then hush themselves in silent reverence-- windchimes crescendo in violent concord & fall to the ground.
i hold a cup of coffee between two hands on the front porch & listen. the rain is louder than god's broken heart. my own heart is more like something which thinks, & my own thoughts are more like staggered heartbeats, so me & my rational heart take stock of our rations-- it is 4 p.m., outside it is green & wet & perfectly suited for human existence, we have just ingested our favorite flower & are now consuming our favorite leaf-- me & my lung filter reflect on this, feeling satisfied but then dissatisfied, & come to no conclusion-- my & my psychic apnea are confused & unmotivated. still, the rain is falling, & each drop is like a complex Dear Diary that was never put in ink. obviously it is closing time in the cosmos, with everything in such a big exhale like this; i'm only going to see how long i can avoid clocking out. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 25th, 2007|02:48 pm] |
for every hungry philosopher there are twenty or more well-fed so-called knowers of knowledge, just climbing the walls to teach about the light they've found-- the kind that comes from lightbulbs rather than from fire-- but there are worlds between words & words between worlds, not to be heard but listened to. there are things that i see & when i see them i understand & know that i have always lived & breathed this thing & my breath is its name, but its name is always changing. in a world of one mind & one body, one man sat at home alone & thought away the universe, but the universe remained,
--neither did he. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 7th, 2007|05:34 pm] |
if you were to go to the market, & hold your hand out to the man, & you say, cool as a cucumber, "what will happen will happen, & that's good & right, but what if i don't know what i want to happen?" you know what you would get?
what will you give me for it? |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 13th, 2007|02:02 pm] |
oregon, oregon, oregon. love it. |
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