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Just a note to say... Things didn't necessarily get better once I went to college. Again, I remember some of it, but other parts of it are all a blur. Don't take anything here too seriously. What did I know? I was just another college student looking for something more.
Blue funk
Beer drunk
Watch the doctor go
Drums sing
Guitars ring
The orange girl dances to the beat
Water your face
Control your pace
Let the music take control
Windows cracked
People smacked
Flowers on the wall
I watch the evil flowers grow passionate
in the smokey light of the club on 3rd street
While the musicians bring forth all that is in
their souls that is there to give or get or
be bought off for petty change
I like your looks
I like your books
Read me your soul in tune
I watch your smiles
I'd walk for miles
For a peek at your existence
Jot down your views on my pale white skin
that's red underneath. I'll sip your blood,
you'll taste my pain and then we'll take
it underground.
Bathrooms reek
Poets speak
of darkness and the horror
Painted flowers
November showers
Stop the falling clouds
Smoke your cloves and drink my
beer - prove to me you have no
fear of hard rock punk bands
with tambourines and stalagmite
ceilings and flying bones
Flannel shirts
and Boys in skirts
call me with their charms
Speakers loud
and Pictures proud
Remind me of all the other joints
I've seen you wandering 'round in my head
and in my dreams speaking in tongues
and worshipping the sun like pagan gods
in a city of gold where the sun shines bright
Soft spoken voices
limited choices
You're the one I desire
Unbroken chains
of music and plains
stretch across my horizons
City of lights
Left and rights
Cabbies speaking french
Diamond rings shine like the rainbows
of my life in sparkles and flames
they leap around my body causing
me to feel warm and safe . . . like your arms
Last call
for alcohol
Buy me my last drink
Sell me your bowl
Give me your dole
of the love you're willing.
Here we go round the fucking world, stopping to see the sights. Harassment by the locals. We tell them to fuck off. We take our clothes off and lay in the sun, customers for skin cancer, where can I buy that? Coffee stains on the dish towel remind me of the other day when loneliness sat at the bottom of the cup and told me to drink up. Stir it around, take it in smaller dosages. Don't let it knock you out. Then the sun would have to wake you up and you know how he hates to do that. He might just let you bake in the sun - like a chocolate chip cookie - sweet, yet no good - smooth, with chunky imperfections, sometimes flat, sometimes hard, sometimes undercooked and messy. Getting all over your hands and mouth. Kind of like cum when you give him head. Did you like the flavor? 32 flavors, flavor of the month, pick and choose your favorite cum. None of it's really good. Why do we do it in the first place? Is it for love? Cause, I can think of a better way to find love. . . buy a puppy, look in the bottom of a box of cracker jacks. In that little paper envelope, they put two doses of uncommonly delicious love. The more you eat, the more you get, the more you desire. It's an advertising hook thing, like a worm on a hook - they're enticing the fish. Fish and chips and vinegar pepper pot. Grow the weeds and cut them down Roll em in your paper. Light up - it won't hurt you. Breathe deep - Take it in. Feel the sensations. Touch your nose - let the feelings spread over and under and beyond and in. Wipe it off with a napkin. You don't want to leave a mess. Then, people would see you and laugh and stare and wonder why you didn't wipe off the feeling. Clean your face and wash your hands. Don't touch the sun -- it's too hot. You might get burned and that would hurt. who wants to get hurt? I've never seen a volunteer. I do! I do! You do what? I love you. But, I told you it's not like that. You just can't volunteer for that. It just happens. But, only to the lucky ones. Not people like you and I. We just have to sit here and share the cup of loneliness.
Back to TopDid you drink it? The warnings were giving, but you obviously weren't listening. The clock was silent; it had to wait ten minutes to sing. Strike the hour, not the people. Leave them alone. A sound of silence fills the air, penetrates my soul and I know how it feels. The moths fly around and tap at the window, trying to get in for a taste. Nobody wants to let them in -- they think they're evil. Then, why in the hell did they let me in? I'm the unlucky one. After you taste, you always want more, even though it makes you sick. Just like the ice cream at Uncle Ed's funeral. You ate and ate till you almost burst and then you hacked and gagged, trying to get it up, but it was stuck in the hole - like Uncle Ed in his grave, with only his cats to mourn him. Did you see the couple laughing? Picnicking among the head stones? They seemed to get a kick out of the idea. Chick salad, caviar, and don't forget the champagne. It was an expensive brand. He must like her. Maybe even love her. They've waited too long to make any love of it. It's only a fling. For him an easy chance to get laid. Wine her, dine her, take her home. That was easy enough. Now, what was her name? He'll never remember. The way she looked at him? She'll never forget. He lied and told her wonderful fairy tales. She believed and so she'll get hurt, maybe caught in a mental mind meld unable to escape. Climbing the walls and leaving scratches in the seven layer paint. He saw her once, through the window of the roof. She was all alone -- rocking in the silent screaming, clutching her ears and saying, "Sh-h-h-h." Open the door to let her out? No, leave her there and bring her a second cup.
Back to TopMy mind is muddled by thoughtless thoughts
that have everything to do with nothing.
Some of this and some more of that
All mixed together like people at a
party or alcohol in the punch.
Thoughts of her invade my mind while those
of the past try to make themselves present once again.
The past is over and should be buried like
a rotting corpse after the maggots
have arrived, because after that,
nothing looks the same.
It becomes what you want: the pictures are
slanted and all dolled up to perfection.
Why do we sleep when we should be drinking,
the world has taken effect.
The butterflies turned from orange to grey
to mourn the death of the moon, gone again
after the rain let up and the clouds
turned to light, so that again we could
see the truth:
Stark, Naked, and Unreliable
Nakedness does that to you -- makes you
uncomfortable and unable to forget.
"Remember?" she said.
Remember when we stayed up late gossiping
about one person or another, and listening to music.
Musicians singing about crazy things and love.
Try to forget the rememberies:
the naked unreliable truth that cuts through
the warmth of my protection and causes me to feel.
To feel the goodness and to feel
the pain of tomorrow.
Drive me home and turn on the water --
make it rain in my life.
I need a stiff drink, something to help me make it through.
I turn off the radio and float off with the music
to another land where the butterflies
are still orange and musicians can't sing
and no one asks you to remember...
Think on me
Lead me to the other side
Strike a match and watch it burn
Down to your finger
the flame glides
until the pain begins to set in and
you notice a difference in your surroundings
There's no one left to tell you you're right
So you'll have to decide for yourself.
The edges of the sun are just barely showing
as night descends and you
crawl away to the protection of your insides
Alter ego alter pain
why couldn't she stay away
She wants it one way
the world wants it another
who's to decide the difference - the happy hunting ground
I was told to make the choice;
you can only decide for yourself.
That's where the problem is - inside my self
A thing I'm not in touch with
and don't know a lot about.
Can you diagnose me?
Well, which is it:
Rainbows or gloom?
I'll be hiding in the top of that tree
until you take me with you
or leave without me
Does it matter if I'm different?
I want to be like you
to play your game by your rules
and either win, or lose, or die trying.
Could it ever be that easy?
Probably not,
So, I'll sit and wait and watch you frolic on the other side,
joining you occasionally when you let me in
Keep the radar set
and let me know if they're coming after me
When the time comes, I'll see how it goes
Maybe your way is better
then again, the grass is always deader on your own side
too bad I've been there before,
because, now I know
that your side will always be greener
and mine will change slowly like the tides
high/low/on/off
who will the steady constant be?
I can't concentrate
my body is out of whack,
but I'll drink coffee, smoke my clove cigarette,
and wish that things were different.
I hear his voice and somewhat understand
but, I don't really care about what he is speaking.
I dressed to the nines
eight rings, not the same fingers
seven thirty, I was early
six more minutes of this madness
my five fingers of my right hand tremble and make writing difficult
four boys sit around and fake an interest in our surroundings
three cups of coffee later
my two eyes sweep the room for
the one.
Is it you?
Are you the single soul for which I am searching?
I brought my pictures and now I feel ridiculous.
Red glowing cherry
Black leaking pen
Orange and yellow lights shine in my eyes
Blue lighter too small, but it serves the purpose
Did you know I've always wanted green hair and a purple stone ring, maybe amethyst
My white shirt will conflict with the rain, but I'll get by.
I want to go to Scotland or New Orleans
or maybe somewhere closer, like your bedroom
I sigh, but the singer doesn't notice,
because like all artists, he is completely alone with himself.
I saw you looking at me
from across the back of your chair
with flushed cheeks and deep eyes -
couldn't tell you the color.
Cobalt bottles,
framed photograph of stone faces
showing no emotion, unless
you look past the marble facade.
I always wanted to be in a room full of people
and know only you.
If you want to talk to some one else,
I'll understand because I don't feel too interesting tonight.
I remember my first night here.
Scared shitless,
because it was my first time,
but somehow I fumbled through.
You were there watching,
I wanted you to participate,
maybe next time.
Make my life a ju mb le
of emotion that even an expert puzzler couldn't figure out
The rain whispers my name and calls me
into the world of GIANTS and children
with me caught in the middle
too tall to sit, too short to stand UP for who I might ever want to be
(Close the door in my face and I'll walk away under a faceless moon into the rain.)
My existence is c a t c h i ng up to me
My memories and imagination are co -- llid -- ing on the front lines of the present
Close your eyes to the misgivings of the world and pretend that everything is fine. . .
Reach out and touch the light you see flowing around me
but only when you feel the rush of the sense closing in around you
TALK MYSTICISM TO ME
Obsess over my eyes as you paint the beauty onto my toenails
and kiss me with butterfly kisses
along my shoulders and neck
Find me in the corner of my bed, put your arms around me, and fly away
Back to TopThis is a world of short skirted and long tied elitists
Crawling all over the mexican and italian plates.
They pretend to appreciate the tinted words of the reader
but they only clap when the listeners respond to the
pause that marks the end with a breath.
The one black suited communist I ended up sharing wall space
with has made a few moments of impact on my night
spent watching the others who feign health without smoke.
Dick chased Jane while Chloe read her speckled words that
I think I understand; she's saying more than what they heard.
I wonder what he heard, the Keirkegard-Kant loving poly-sci guy
from Denver who's as out of place as I am, smoking British fags.
Do communists accept queers? Do I ask him? Or, do I find an
expert on communism who doesn't believe, just a collector of
facts, and ask him? or her? He said, "Don't believe in anything that's not universal."
The people keep walking on stage and out the door speaking their own
truths, not universal. A joint or beer would go well with these
cheap words for the underage law abider that I am.
As soon as the doctor reappears, we'll travel south even farther than we already
have to stay on others' sheets, cool and without depressions of bodies past.
Mints on the pillows or soap in the dishes? Shower caps?
It doesn't matter, the bed's still empty.
If we walked a mile in your shoes, we would get blisters, because your feet are so big. We could hum the tune to amazing grace and maybe add a word or two. But then, after all the verses, we could attempt to sing it backwards while carrying dead white roses. If we made it to the graveyard downtown, we could tie you to the cross and make really cool sketches in that freak guy's book. Don't look at me like that just because I'm different, cause I could look like you, but I choose not to. But. . . if you were to carry me home and play Monopoly with me and my imaginary friend, then I might let you stare at me when I'm not looking. Light my cigarette for me and I'll flirt with you, no matter what color your eyes happen to be that night. Buy me dinner and I'll carry you home and we'll listen to Buffett songs on my turn table while drinking some concoction of Kool-aid and whatever else is in the fridge. We could hop into a car and drive to a really small town in Nebraska where there is a Waffle House. Maybe there will be someone who thinks she's Wonder Woman complete with plastic ring and magic lasso. We could drink Mello Yellow and talk about B-grade movies with the locals. Drop me off on your way to Georgia, somewhere like Tennessee, or thereabouts, where I can bum a smoke and a cup of joe off of some red neck named Bubba, or Johnboy, with 3 dogs in the back of his blue Chevy pickup truck. I'll hitchhike my way back to my home town, or catch a bus if I can scrape up the dough. When I get home, I'll find a quarter on the street in downtown Atlanta and give you a call, cause I think you might care. "Goodnight," I'll wish you from my coffin as I lay down to sleep for the day, while you go to your uptown job in your 3 piece suit driving your Mercedes that's almost on empty.
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