No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man.
Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted.
It is good for the foolish that he bear the yoke in his early days;
Grief-giver ho, bitter-agent ho, now agitated-naked-in-decay tho.
(Nine-One-Four-Five ho, versa power top and tap!)
I try to contribute my many a bones to lesser known museums
Of seaweeds, of poisona skin, of reprimands and recommendations, of ballots of shallots,
And many more gore legendariums tussled, and gigantic screens awfully repainting civics
And never disparaging like my castle ...Read more
you spent an entire four months in an apartment ten stories high, /
living on the eight / floor, / surviving on cheap / noodle sticks and beer /
and cigarettes and / knock-off biscuits /
the elevator / was broken, so most of the time / you had to climb up and bring up /
your own furniture / 'til you started giving up /
on comforts like a good sofa / and new flat-screens, /
and your neighbors, they were no friends /
of yours, / you didn't offer any introduction /
they had lives built before you became /
a sorry tenant, a busy tenant / just another, just another /
so many had lived and ...Read more
"And on the eight day, God sang, 'Let there be gays!'"
good-spirited fast-track and fool of fracking,
leak and let leak, freak–
again, leak and let leak, the savagely beautiful–
Her name is the effigy I throw around to get
a little less attention and a little more fake sympathy–
O', you fakers, clear as the days of my caretakers,
are you good? fluid as the soul can be?
high as the revelation of some fortune stripped across your bow,
hammered like the Almighty oiled up and ready for a show?
good, good, let me tell you something, then–
every year, I find myself digging deeper ...Read more
"Unus homo nobis cunctando restituit rem.
Noenum rumores ponebat ante salutem;
Ergo plusque magisque viri nunc gloria claret."
First-time listener, long-time caller. A lover. A lover.
Two aces of New Year's Eves like pinpricks refuting.
…Finding yourself entangled in the magic of it all–
Where the warcry needle is a fiery big hit, a beguilingly big minute,
Dotting my fiercely i's and splintering my e's,
Eavesdropping at any moment, in the red-eyed glazer like a synapse, like a sigh and a sign.
The gods of dogs never do tell you the reformative years are the dull ones.
They will h ...Read more
"Chief Tyrol… This is the Blackbird?"
"Yes, Ma'am… Madam President, this is an honor."
"No, the honor's mine. It's remarkable."
"Just a ship, Ma'am."
"Oh, you're much too modest. After what we've been through, it would be very easy to give up, to lose hope. But not here. Not today. This is more than a ship, Chief. This is an act of faith. It is proof that despite all we've lost, we keep trying. And we will get through this. All of us, together. I promise."
(– BSG S02E09)
Happiness becomes a sin we sought to overcome,
And though our lords and their lords' lords, too, tend to overco ...Read more
You are walking in the museum of now-humanity's ancestors.
You, the descendant, smiles in your crooked way. They are in jars.
They are displayed from a far and being made money for.
And the fire casts to all a long shadow, and the shadow veils on you
Perfectly and still functioning. "You failed," you whispered to it
Like a melancholy chub no longer a longer, apricot-eyed.
"You failed back," theirs seem to reply, the nefarious pointing and taunting,
From the cylindrical glass where chunks were preserved, the bullet-topped
Chunks of history, chunks of your avarice in a pollenated sweatbo ...Read more
I annihilate men with my godsent tongue, this godsent mouth.
My lip gloss are diamonds like I'm the diabolical that rose a rose.
My hips, my arms– they are godless but they climbed down from heavens light as rain,
As the snow McKinley has never known, never had a problem for, never worn…
"I wish he had a blog, so I can read his mind, so I can judge his thoughts accordingly,
The things he won't dare speak direct to me, but shouts at me, directly…"
It only takes one re-reading of Shakespeare to learn of love again.
I learn of tragedy again.
My dear tragedienne, would you come back ...Read more
you sat in front of your homey tombstone, decorated by tears of the departed, the departing, and the newly born,
we are young in body but old in soul, whisked about and away by whiskey and the sunlight,
sun-dripped on milk in glass translucent as the second coming,
but deception, long as round-the-earth flight, slithers under your welcoming bed,
it rocks and asks for conformity, rocks and asks for stillness, asks for silence, asks for more, asks to be wed, asks for a lore
you were born radiant but duller and duller you become as the hallways that ushered
your caretakers, your future, ice ...Read more
Forks ‘stead of spoons– an upright imp, a herd.
“I wish, when I close my eyes, everybody closes theirs, too,
So we could all enjoy the darkness that glimmers. That glimmers
Far beyond our limbs and far beyond our homes.
“Our bones, they stutter– our cowardly, heralded.
There is no better route than having to escape the cave with ye.
No better feature creature than what's in yer belly.”
“People are sturdy things. People are fragile things.
They criticize and contribute to darkness alike, pray to our gods in darkness alike.”
“I pray only for ye.”
“Do you see them? ...Read more
The call to be a writer is louder than anything I've ever heard.
I wanted control, so I wrote the words to a closed-off world,
And it made me difficult, invective to unbind,
For there were three of me,
Maybe plenty, maybe unreliable,
And they each all desire a conflicted completion, shared down to the ineffective spleen
Of the yogi booty that fits in a cup, rinses by the towelettes,
And novelettes all marked the red and grays of what-it-says-abouts, what-become-of-its,
Have so slowly, so occasionally down climbed.
He was a professional who could never love a mindset as unfixed as mine ...Read more
Never touch the men in your city.
They scream through telephone wires.
They share everything. They hog over meals.
I saw all sorts of inconsistencies snaking their spine, making them all the more beautiful and all the less divine,
Rigid as what we’ve known of strife and gloria, singing in the accumulated form.
There is a sort of beauty to accents fading and intents coming clear, but intent has rarely come alone.
“I like where you’ve been. But I think I’d like you more when you’re mine.”
Why did the dog bo’er becoming a fool? Why, excited for in extremes?
Should have s ...Read more