tisk. tisk.
3.09.2010
3.08.2010
3.8.2010
an hour past the alarm rolling out of bed,
pushed the sheets til it's almost eleven and i
must immediately start.
blue tape on the walls edges.
donating clothes that could be five years old
and a tv that's too big for me,
a bottom heavy machine with a scratch on its back from
move in.
growing up is never easy to do until
you realize you want to do it
and the flat screens and movie scenes seem
better than before and better than
the trivial kisses and the
sometimes stares by boys that are
hot today but what happens
when their thirty?
do what's popular and you get a kiss from
mr. man,
do it the right way and you'll eventually rule
the land, fuck
mr. man.
work feet heavy til ten o clock,
smell like coffee beans but no gin and tonic
waits just
pinot noir from publix at a good exchange rate.
Debuss, Chopin, Schumann play as i'm back to the walls
putting up the blue tape reminding me that i truly do wish i had a river
i could skate away on.
pushed the sheets til it's almost eleven and i
must immediately start.
blue tape on the walls edges.
donating clothes that could be five years old
and a tv that's too big for me,
a bottom heavy machine with a scratch on its back from
move in.
growing up is never easy to do until
you realize you want to do it
and the flat screens and movie scenes seem
better than before and better than
the trivial kisses and the
sometimes stares by boys that are
hot today but what happens
when their thirty?
do what's popular and you get a kiss from
mr. man,
do it the right way and you'll eventually rule
the land, fuck
mr. man.
work feet heavy til ten o clock,
smell like coffee beans but no gin and tonic
waits just
pinot noir from publix at a good exchange rate.
Debuss, Chopin, Schumann play as i'm back to the walls
putting up the blue tape reminding me that i truly do wish i had a river
i could skate away on.
3.07.2010
3.7.2010
heavy lids, from 6 am this morning-
no nap time- stuck moving and driving heavy hitter on the road.
pressing my pedal pushing, losing, gas.
my car vibrates inefficiently beneath me i don't know
why it lags its way down the road so unhealthily-
but it still moves despite it's semi rust, its unfavorable moods and
uncanny sense of thrift.
golden statues to the beautiful people as they pamper
and praise with words
onto each other the blessings flow,
from one to another but they've worked
hard i should say, and they deserve at least one day to
indulge in the selfish conformity of it all.
i know i will.
no nap time- stuck moving and driving heavy hitter on the road.
pressing my pedal pushing, losing, gas.
my car vibrates inefficiently beneath me i don't know
why it lags its way down the road so unhealthily-
but it still moves despite it's semi rust, its unfavorable moods and
uncanny sense of thrift.
golden statues to the beautiful people as they pamper
and praise with words
onto each other the blessings flow,
from one to another but they've worked
hard i should say, and they deserve at least one day to
indulge in the selfish conformity of it all.
i know i will.
3.06.2010
3.5.2010
mary's on a cool night-
lady with the rags dances with arms a flight
moving slowly
lights shine down with the pbr in hand
we dance, we dance-
talked to a man named greg
remembered his face from a few moons before
moving to l.a.
hope he keeps it cool in his new neighborhood.
addictions easily envelope over sweet souls that are new
in the land where everything becomes used.
the smoke sticks to the air as if its always been there
and that rhyme pattern
pattern
pattern
sticks to your mind even though you don't want it to be there.
the twee rhythms and rhymes of the indie pop mix with beyonce
and gaga and all her recycled but amazing funk and it's a mess
that i'd never want to be without-
i'd be so much less without
it.
and jamison tall stands beside saying hi
patting his back and his tells his typical cry of a simple pain that my
hand inflicted
but it's a friendly gesture nothing more that i'd mention.
and the alcohol digs deep then mitch says hello
i move to the dance floor while the tiles stay close
and my typical feet do their typical thing
but no one is around it's just you, the music and me-
and i realize why i want it this bad-
everyone listens when the beat is an instant fad-
no one questions,
everyone moves
hands go up
as the mouth opens up
regurgitating words that you wrote-
that were new
once.
listen to my words one day?
get the confidence enough to say?
"the manifesto"
"gay madonna"
"nicco, nicco"
"my lady of stone"
these songs only few-
one day soon-
one day soon-
my feet keep moving
the lady does her jig.
another pbr,
she smokes one more cig.
this is all coming out-
a sudden response-
it lacks a filter-
but happiness is such a killer.
we move on we move on-
last call last call,
mary's lambs get lost
in the streets on a friday night with
no shepherd in sight.
driving to the apartment that's new
it's been one week- scored the walls for the paint-
swatches by the bed-
what happens if i move?
we focus on the now and the future-
not the ifs and the whats
we live for the day-
not the exclusive unfortunate buts.
i pressed play to gonzales five minutes ago to get
these thoughts out-
moving slowly from pretentious nests
to being able to fly free without,
soon-soon.
the music did,
the music is,
the movies the posters
moving images in my mind- a good way
to capture the tempting night.
lady with the rags dances with arms a flight
moving slowly
lights shine down with the pbr in hand
we dance, we dance-
talked to a man named greg
remembered his face from a few moons before
moving to l.a.
hope he keeps it cool in his new neighborhood.
addictions easily envelope over sweet souls that are new
in the land where everything becomes used.
the smoke sticks to the air as if its always been there
and that rhyme pattern
pattern
pattern
sticks to your mind even though you don't want it to be there.
the twee rhythms and rhymes of the indie pop mix with beyonce
and gaga and all her recycled but amazing funk and it's a mess
that i'd never want to be without-
i'd be so much less without
it.
and jamison tall stands beside saying hi
patting his back and his tells his typical cry of a simple pain that my
hand inflicted
but it's a friendly gesture nothing more that i'd mention.
and the alcohol digs deep then mitch says hello
i move to the dance floor while the tiles stay close
and my typical feet do their typical thing
but no one is around it's just you, the music and me-
and i realize why i want it this bad-
everyone listens when the beat is an instant fad-
no one questions,
everyone moves
hands go up
as the mouth opens up
regurgitating words that you wrote-
that were new
once.
listen to my words one day?
get the confidence enough to say?
"the manifesto"
"gay madonna"
"nicco, nicco"
"my lady of stone"
these songs only few-
one day soon-
one day soon-
my feet keep moving
the lady does her jig.
another pbr,
she smokes one more cig.
this is all coming out-
a sudden response-
it lacks a filter-
but happiness is such a killer.
we move on we move on-
last call last call,
mary's lambs get lost
in the streets on a friday night with
no shepherd in sight.
driving to the apartment that's new
it's been one week- scored the walls for the paint-
swatches by the bed-
what happens if i move?
we focus on the now and the future-
not the ifs and the whats
we live for the day-
not the exclusive unfortunate buts.
i pressed play to gonzales five minutes ago to get
these thoughts out-
moving slowly from pretentious nests
to being able to fly free without,
soon-soon.
the music did,
the music is,
the movies the posters
moving images in my mind- a good way
to capture the tempting night.
3.02.2010
paint on my fingers, paint on my knees.
freeverse while preparing to move, painting walls.
i'm painting over all these faces
black ink on white is so hard to cover-
one coat makes it a shadow
and two makes it a memory.
the faces all have large eyes saucers
even like classic disney.
and the words and phrases scatter flatly
horizontally on the wall.
it was once flat.
but the coats from before, the yellow maybe
brown.
the ready maybe
blue.
my pink and my sky gave it a thick skin.
who's missing their inner city trinity?
mabe i'll put on some 2pac and soak the brush-
soften the bristles til it covers 2 years.
i could have a cigarette between my lips
but i don't smoke inside
i don't smoke anymore-
the carpet would capture it anway,
but anyway the carpet is gone.
it was once new (it knew)
(it could have possibly absorbed my residue)
and it's a wonder
such a wonder-
with all the paint and all my hell-
this carpet still isn't blue.
i'm painting over all these faces
black ink on white is so hard to cover-
one coat makes it a shadow
and two makes it a memory.
the faces all have large eyes saucers
even like classic disney.
and the words and phrases scatter flatly
horizontally on the wall.
it was once flat.
but the coats from before, the yellow maybe
brown.
the ready maybe
blue.
my pink and my sky gave it a thick skin.
who's missing their inner city trinity?
mabe i'll put on some 2pac and soak the brush-
soften the bristles til it covers 2 years.
i could have a cigarette between my lips
but i don't smoke inside
i don't smoke anymore-
the carpet would capture it anway,
but anyway the carpet is gone.
it was once new (it knew)
(it could have possibly absorbed my residue)
and it's a wonder
such a wonder-
with all the paint and all my hell-
this carpet still isn't blue.
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