Monthly Archives: March 2010

Gullible Guillotine

When you kiss you kiss with a sigh. It gets heavier every day, weighing on your tiny conscience. Why is it so hard for you to tell your lover of your unhappiness? I understand something like that must be easier on paper than in action. But we are all who we are according to the sum of our actions. All of our actions. Someone show me the ten commandments of God, and I will try my best to abide by them. Someone show me the ten commandments of love, and I’ll tell you it doesn’t exist. There are ideas of course, but try getting everyone to agree. Your lover isn’t only your lover, but your best friend, and you wouldn’t go out and wrong your best friend on purpose, no one does. that’s why friendship only gets a point, never it’s own list of commandments.

It’s funny watching people of the utmost faith contradict themselves in the worst way. It’s sad but beautiful at the same time. Like watching the arms of Michaelangelo’s David’s arms come to life just to rip off his limbs one by one. That’s what you do when you tell someone of your undying love for them, and sleep in the arms of another. This doesn’t shock me, you see it everyday. Real life, movies, songs, all glamorized. What we don’t take into account is the stupidity of man when we come up with these ideas. How gullible we all are. I suppose that’s called, “going with the flow.” It’s a wonder why the End of Days didn’t come along sooner. “They’re all bloodsuckers babe, they’ll chew you up and spit you out. Come on let’s go.” “It was the worst mistake of my life.”

When you play poker, specifically, Texas Hold ’em, the goal of the game is to make the pot grow and hope your cards are higher than everyone elses cards. you don’t get to see their cards, so you have to play like you do. Thus poker face. Bluffing is when you know your cards aren’t that great but you scare the other players into thinking your cards will win. When they call your bluff, it’s probably because they know you can’t possibly have great cards or they’ve played with you long enough to know when you’re bluffing or telling the truth. I’ve played with a player long enough to know her ins and outs. I’ve had truths and lies to compare to her soul in hand, and even then, found myself playing anyway. I should have just taken the pot, clean.

Time to take my pet ant-eater for a walk through the city.

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If You’ll Be So Kind as to Lead the Way

Contrary to popular belief, there aren’t any secrets to keep and there aren’t any to hide. The only secrets kept can only be found in your insides. I threw you down and told you to wait, but I was the only one that ever put that up for debate. You were scared, and didn’t know what to say. You were perplexed that someone would treat you this way. But is it so bad? Is it so surreal? That the sincerity in my movements would show you how to feel? One of us is left brained and one of us is right, but we’re both on the same team, why above all else, do you choose to fight? I’m not going to lie to you, there’s a side of me you haven’t seen, And if you haven’t, by now, got a clue, let me be the first to welcome you to this place you’ve never been. Like a doormat, I can only take so much, but every now and then, you’ve got to pick it up just to beat out the dust. You were never a secret babe, but i can see that you try really hard in order to be, But if only you took a class from Honest Abe, only then can we honestly be free.

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it’s a marvelous night for a moondance.

The moon bounces along the edges of the water.

It changes shape every now and then,

Depending on how many teary eyes feed it wishes.

and seems bouncier every now and then.

if the teary eyes keep feeding wishful dishes.

Sometimes it seems bluer than normal,

and sometimes it’s redder than an apple.

Any color on the moon is formal

something something something chapel.

then sometimes it’s not there.

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Bright’s Thoughts. (Character analysis)

Family-(fam-uh-lee) noun. A. A social group consisting of one or more parents taking care of one or more children.

I’m not going to lead you on an emotional adventure leading with a heartfelt coming of age story involving myself and what it means to me. The honest truth is that I never knew what that word [family] meant. I grasped certain ideas of what that word meant, but unless ‘disfunctional’ was a clear-cut adjective in its description, it would never be remotely close to what I’d amount as what I’d define as family.

I’m an adopted 27 year old who’s foster mother died when I was 13. I’d only known her for four years, but God bless her soul, she was a saint. My M.d. father was an Arab and loved my mother very much, but not as much as my mother’s crusade in saving the young and cursed. I’d fended for myself like a feral boy in the woods with wolves my entire life. Ridicule and twisted words became my daily sermons and on some days, I had faith in those words.

Until I met Tiffany. She was adopted as well, but you’d never know unless she told you herself. She was raised by wolves as a wolf herself and showed me I didn’t have to take the world on, on my own anymore. It was as if I had been shown a side of the green grass I’d been standing on. She told me it was greener than I had thought.

Then one day, it all ended. I suppose it could be chalked down to her finding even greener grass… on another lawn. I did everything I could to stop it from happening, but it only made matters worse. Relationships are like sand, the harder you grip onto it, the more will escape your fingertips. You have to have an open hand in order to retain the most sand. Nothing is ever the same again, every time your heart dies. It can repair itself, but with brand new precautions to avoid the same chaos. Tiff showed me what a family could mean, and I’d shown her that I wanted one with her.

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Fare Thee Well, Miss Carousel

Curses walk among us. disguised as streaks of bad luck or even disguised as angels. Listen not to the song of the Siren for the ship will crash upon shallow rocks. The Siren speaks of true love and wants to take every human man to their underwater castle, but too foolish to consider the fact that man cannot breathe underwater. They entice us with happiness then murder us with stupidity.

How do you explain your new found whoribble antics? Don’t bother. You cast a small shadow and offer a dance with mine. Then like a monkey, you let go of a branch and grab onto another, and throw your feces for fun. spit them out even. You aim at DJ’s, musicians, photographers, and artists, and you do it with elegant splendor. But for a moment, let’s just wake up and smell the bananas; everyone’s a fucking DJ, musician, photographer, or artist! Band of brothers and band with each other’s ex-wives, and have a fecal-spitting party. I’ll be the guest of honor and grace you notable due- applause to your indecision, indiscretion. No one knows you still call me baby, and whisper sugary sweet nothings into my ear. Especially when your targets leave you feeling lonely. Do you know why that is? It’s because you know I’d come running to your whistle like a loyal dog. That’s called taking someone for granted. Just because I made a mistake a long time ago doesn’t give you the right to execute cruel and unusual punishment to me whenever you please. You already know I’d come at the snap of your finger, wagging my tail, and you know I’ve long since paid my dues for leaving my own business on the french moss carpet.

Now, since know one knows you still talk to me, who are you going to vent to about this? I’ll just tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going to call up one of the men you call, then proceed with a subtle, yet noticeable stir in your candor. The man will ask you of what ails you, but you don’t tell them. because you can’t. Because to fully understand the caliber what ails you, you’d have to reveal to him that he is and was never the only man you gave your sweet precious model citizen time to. In fact, Poor soul, he cares so much about you, but cursed to never understand how to comfort you. But who gave you the authority, to kill him in the first degree? And autre Misguided Soul, you think the arms of variety offer you warmth and security? No dear one, you’re naked and playing basketball on the court of men, Tick-tock, you’re the sweaty basketball itself, shoots, passes, dunks, dribbles.You like being bounced by everyone though, the attention has got to feel what you think to be ‘fulfilling’.

I was never good at sports anyway, I’ll watch the game and root for both teams to lose. There is one thing that I have noticed. I was the only one who knew your antics. I knew when you lied, I knew when you cried. I knew every time and location the serpent shed it’s skin. And I still loved and hunted you. And you knew when I was on your trail, led me in a circle among the forest, and swallowed me whole from behind. Bravo! Well played old chap. You’ve really gone off the deep end, and this whole time I thought I could save you. I thought I could help you bring your soul back. But I failed to see one tiny insignificunt fact you’ve been conveying; You didn’t want it back. You justify being a carousel by saying you spin on your soul’s pendulum. Then you spin on everyone else’s pendulum. Oi Vey, do you hear that? song’s of the Siren that she had only meant to sing for herself, we’re all attracted to it because it sounds pretty but fuck. those rocks are sharp, deadly, and can cut a ship of any size down. All the poor souls you’ve been collecting are never going to pay for your hollow happiness.

But maybe she has to sing for the sakeĀ  of the song,

and who do I think I am to decide that she’s wrong.


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Lamp and Socket

Turn it off, then back on again.

Then switch your bulbs,

So they cast shadows of different effects,

But still shadows by name.

Connected through a power socket,

My power surges through you,

We made shadows dance and come to life.

As we danced and came to life.

Then the tempting times tapped on our window,

And you became a simple flashlight,

Switching in haunted hands.

Witching your new shadows and delights,

Faceless men put their batteries in you.

Play no shadow tricks here,

No objects to cast upon; slim, fat, short, or tall.

Where once was a lifeline, a power cord,

Remains a haunted hollow hole in the wall.

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Penny on the Train Track

It’s been confirmed that going out and pursuing the extro-pleasuresĀ  doesn’t do anything. Extro-pleasures meaning all the outwardly social debaucheries, the changes one would undergo in order to appease the hunger for life. I haven’t said “no,” in over two weeks to a single invitation, though, keeping me moving, has still left me feeling idle. I still find myself every night shaking hands with a pen and pad, only to write of the hollowness that lingers. Sure, I’ve more than I can eat on my plate, but not a single one of those bits have persuaded me into purchasing the meal. T’would be a commitment I would hope to have kept the receipt for.

No, I don’t suffice monetarily, and think and hope that love would pay the difference, but I suppose that would be the one modernist idealism in me that exudes. Besides that, I’m old fashioned and don’t know what Lil’ Wayne or T-Pain’s songs pertain to. I love like it’s 1959, and it is and has been proven to be beyond my control. I’ve dabbled in the new millenia, but it simply does not entice me as much as the advertisements claim it would. You can keep your automatic machine guns, but I’ll always prefer the .44. Hit it hard and make sure I shoot to kill, not a buck-shot and hope I hit something.

I twitched in the presence of a long lost old friend of mine tonight. He saves lives for a living now as an EMT. One of my best friend’s teaches music to young overconfident highschool students. Another, Is a culinary expert catering to celebrities who are capable of paying a college tuition for a bowl of macaroni and cheese. I stand and see all the things that I could be, but I know will leave me feeling emptier than a can of coke after a long day at the beach. I want to feel as full as the glass of lemonade that belongs to the gentleman that’s washing his car in his drive-way in Pooptown, California. All he has to think about is what to write next and when his lovely wife is going to come home so they can start dinner. Then maybe a few drinks with the friends. Work should stay at work, you don’t take it with you back home as a pillow, you leave it where it is so it doesn’t make you snore so loudly when you’re next to your lover and best friend.

You’ve had your fun in the yard with the local kids, now it’s time to get in the shower to clean yourself off in the bath I’ve run. Put on the sundress I’ve laid out on the bed and come downstairs for dinner. You can play again tomorrow, and I’m not opposed to joining you this time.

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Lazy Line Painter

Where do you find someone who’ll be honest with you, and be your best friend. and not give a flying fuck about whether or not our privates touch? All that glitters isn’t gold, and you’ll be emptier in the end if you think it is. Every great and wild artist from history took a step into the direction no one else wanted to, that wasn’t an example for us to follow, but appreciate. The world has run out of ideas, and I’m ready to dance like a maniac and howl at the moon without spilling a single drop of wine.

chubby little lion boy

I guess I just wasn’t made for these times.

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Brave Little Velvet World

Don’t answer the door, just come back to bed. They’ll only get you in trouble. Though, if you must go, let me get my coat. Don’t run with sharp objects, as sharp as you are. We’ll walk to the rhythm of a ballad, then skip to the rhythm of a waltz. Don’t forget the shitty red umbrella in case it rains. We locked the little picket fence to our little cottage surrounded by plastic plants. She held my hand and told me to put on my game face.

“Don’t talk to strangers,” I say to her.
“I don’t need to, they make me yawn uncontrollably.” she said back.
“So do I.” I said to her.
“But I can fall asleep on you when you do it.” she said as she playfully pushed herself deeper into my arms.

We walked down the never-ending sidewalk leaving a trail of breadcrumbs and cherry blossoms. The sky was in the transition of night or day, we couldn’t tell which, but we were sure it didn’t matter. There was always light when we were together. Our minds held in place; everything in this world.

Then one day, without warning, our minds gave up focus. The solid lines, that etched everything became blurred. Our velvet planet became silk, then satin, then denim, then cloth. Holes were forming and we couldn’t get our heads straight in time. The velvet planet became a moth-eaten ball of yarn of a color one can easily forget. That’s the thing with history. History can always be summed up into a few paragraphs, but if you were there, you’d have been forced to watch the city walls come crumbling down, and the greenery turn feeble and crunchy, almost in slow motion. Ironically, The little cottage, where our bed is, was still surrounded by the plastic plants, and that’s where I lay, until the world comes to take me too.

all photos by Dan Krug

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I give very good advice. Hanging out with my sister and sorting her problems helped me realized that. Since when did I become so great at giving advice?! More importantly, why can’t I follow my own? Since I lost my fiancee, I haven’t felt the urge to gawk or ogle at another woman. The idea of settling for something less always peeked it’s oily face into the corners of my mind. I’m a great platonic friend not by choice, but by natural response. Everytime I see a couple, especially interracial couples, I get a deep ache so far down inside me, that I have to pause and take a breath. Hand holdings, careless pecks on the cheek along the sidewalks, or someone yelling, “baby,” to their lover, and especially laughter; all come at me like a current. I’m a carp, not a trout, and swimming upstream is painful. Everything around me is water, and everything reminds me of her.

Sometimes I feel like an imposter. I put on a second skin, one of happiness and contentment in order to gather and mock what I find in that world. Then at night, I remove the disguise and mock myself and write about my discoveries. Do I want to be the documenter or the documentee? I don’t even know who’s side I’m on anymore. But then again, one side wouldn’t exist without the other, everything is nothing, and nothing is everything.

I summon lightning and thunder with the legendary warholian glass banana!

In the movie, Liar Liar, starring Jim Carrey, A lawyer makes a living lying in the judicial court. Literally, and he’s quite good, getting the most guilty criminals off the hook. The court isn’t where the lies stop though. He has joint custody over his son, and appointments with him seem to be the only ones he can never keep. Towards the end of the movie, the risk of finally losing his son forever to a new stepdad drove him to drastic measures. (Accompanied by his cursed inability to tell a lie for a day, even white lies.) He realized how much of a shit he was for taking his son’s visits for granted, and how bad of a father he actually was, and tries desperately to atone for his behavior. He finally saw the light because the truth set him free. I singled this movie out because of it’s relativity towards something/one I know. Of course I’m talking about ‘The Claw.’

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