Monday, May 31, 2010

6/104: Failing the hanbleceya told by Lame Deer rearranged by me

I guess they meant what they said when they told him to leave.

He didn't leave.
he wanted his vision, goddamn it and he wasn't
crying out all night long, for four whole nights,
in vain.

His body was filled with the meat of deer -
he waas rubbed down with wild sage
and good intentions.
His pores were clarified with the white breath
of the gods, sacred steam.
His vision pit was prepped and fluffed
with the blood of eagerness and the misnomer of bravery.

They meant what they said when they told him to leave.

He cried out for the vision, the one
he knew was destined for only his holy meditation.

He fought with the Great Ones,
who were only trying to sleep.
For four whole nights he was smug and stubborn -
calling out until his voice went numb
and out running rocks.

The vision quest was a bust
(but They told him that the first night).

His elders told him something about suffering
something about patience
something about humility,
but he didn't hear 'em -

of course not.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

05/104:Urban Sprawl: The Heart Pumps Oil

Part 1

The meat of the city, well, that's in the middle -
pressing against the skin, beating out bricks and pumping
out industry.
Give us styrofoam and PVC and ultra polymers.
Help us store our food
and keep our water cold
and tuck away those pills that keep my happy.
Give us Black Clouds, but only by accident.
That's okay, really, we'd rather not be inconvenienced.
We'll attach electrodes to your sweaty face and sympathetically smile
through your cardiomyopathy;
we'll whisper and quietly beg the far away heavens for relief -
get better, don't die
(if only to supply our demand).


Let me sacrifice the poplars to name streets after
dead presidents
Let me pick up a piece of concrete and place it behind
my ear
Let me attach an SUV to a carriage and let me drink down
the oil
Let me spill that oil on the wings of our
metaphoric liberty.

Part 2

You play basketball in your driveway
and for each person in your family
you have 1000 square feet of space.
You each get a TV
You each get a room
You each get to eat the souls of all around you.
Welcome home and take all that you want.

The End.

Monday, May 17, 2010

4/104: Slash and Burn the Soul

Fog is heavy on my head as I
drive past over burdened fields.

Stripped and repeatedly understated
for people who under appreciate the worth
of goodness.

Me and the fields part of the same story
until the end of time.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

3/104: (Myth, Legends, Pop Icons) For Ian Dury

She had been thinking about it for days,
as undeniable as sunshine,
but that's not the story you hear.
She thought it through, the ins and outs,
the mechanics of such a delicate operation - she realized
this was the best idea she's ever had.
The snake with his bow tie and dazzling smile,
he was only her scape goat.

She meandered into the gated off section,
walked right past the "reserved" sign and laid her hands
right on it.
She bit it and let it hit her tongue:
"sour" she thought, "is this a fruit or a vegetable?"
"Seeds on the inside or seeds on the outside?"
"Which is which?"

(Questions are part of the 'knowledge' He warned against)

No one asked her why she did it -
No one.

If asked she would have responded:
"Sex, drugs and rock and roll -
why else?"

Sunday, May 9, 2010

the beginning of my 2 a week: 5.02-5.09

1/104: What I Wanted to Say When She Asked Me About God.

I want to sit on that mountain
I want to I'll fly away
I want to swing low, but instead

I get anxious in hollow sanctuaries where every whisper hits every wall,
but my sins?
They fall to the ground like dead birds.

Somehow I've lost god under his heavy cross -
I think the gospel of blood gets in my eyes and
I just can't see past the crusades.

2/104: I Can't Get my Cup

I am shaky, a tiny nicotine pill
with the nervous shits.
My bowels are flopping - a suffocating blue gill
burning in the sun.

uncertainty makes me feel like dad's drunk again
and dinner plates are being hurtled across the dining room.

Who's going to clean the walls this time?

Well, not Jesus. he never does.

(not my best, i'm aware - but i have a whole year --> here's to getting better!!)

Saturday, May 1, 2010

4.30: thoughts on creation

My body was rolled out from mud
and thrown out into the horizon.

It was a second form to another -
but, that can't be true.
I was either tenth in the line up
or first.
None of this second bullshit.

The bloody foam of the first
lovers - I must have sprouted up like corn
after their massacre - or wait,
was it from their teeth?

Who was the first mother?
can't be a man -
just doesn't make sense.

My neocortex is a nice cushion
and my axial bones are pure white -
they radiate hip hop (where'd that come from?)
but they do.

a KingFisher once dove to the bottom of
an ancient lake.
Found a race of men and they gave him

Maybe I was that kingfisher