Saturday, December 15, 2007

abject absolution

i'm here today to talk about you. the perpetually mistaken and ever forgettful you. you have always fallen just short of my expectations. you leave me with the feeling i get after im interrupted from a good dream to face the real world. like a lover's embrace you always leave me wanting something more. you are nothing more to me than the novocaine i pump into my heart to erase the guilt. and nothing less than the sore on the inside of my cheek that keeps bleeding every time i touch it with my tongue. court is in session and you are on trial. but how is it that you always end up under the gavel of this stonefaced judge. this is all a matter of perspective and the situation changes with each brushstroke. with enough paint we can make this masterpiece our own. but in the end all that's left is the artist and the canvas, the blank page that swallows our darkest thoughts. take a peek under all the makeup beauty queen, and tell me what you see. i'm not saying that you're not gorgeous, i'm just suggesting that you might see someting the cameras don't. and i should know what that's like, because underneath the layers of false pride and just behind this holier than thou mask lies a trembling little boy, terrified that all the imperfections and insecurities that wander around in the confines of my mind will threaten to break free at any time. the framework of every single relationship is secrecy and manipulation. we speak in terms of supply and demand and every emotion has been pasturized and homogenized to the point of acceptance. somewhere in all this chaos and entanglement of finger pointing family lost its meaning. maybe im too old to dream but somehow deep inside i know we were designed for something much greater and our hearts were made to harbor humility not vanity. now i'm no political expert and i don't have a doctorate in foreign affairs but maybe, just maybe if we stopped pointing the barrel of the gun at one another and took one second to look at all the beauty if this life; maybe then we could just take our fingers off the trigger and stop shifting blame in bullets and spreading hope in blood. i hear a strong wind of change and its voice is love. it starts with you and it starts with me. so let's stop blaming you and start taking responsibility for me.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

concrete valley

this is a world sculpted by our need for isolation. the skyline grows and twists upward like steel and glass vines choking out the sun. we make our peace with lonliness here under the shadows. this is our last stand, the flourescent march to the iron sea. every step resounds like crashing waves, the perfect symphony of progress. we will submit our lives to the tide for the sake of your family values. everything is done for the greater good as we sacrifice purpose to the pagan gods. these are the times that try our souls so we look to our stained glass ritual for deliverence. all we want are answers, truth is a luxury. the search will end at the glistening gates of our great, immutable factory. its chimenys resolutely go on constructing the atmosphere. black raindrops fall to our barren ground and bring a sense of salvation. we drop to our knees and petition the sky for vices to numb the pain away. we now mass produce simplicity. how did we stray so far from the Architect's blueprints? our morals have become nothing more than the pnuematic current that carries our self-righteousness. this stagnant, man-made existence is so hollow.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

hey richie, the 80's called and they want their spandex back.

here in this manufactured city we sleep safely inside the elastic walls or our suburbia. an ever-expanding kingdom produced by the assembly line. everyone here dreams of living but these dreams remain forgotten in the confines of our lonely beds. the bright sun, burning in the cloudless sky is courtesy of the weathermen hidden in their balloons high above. they forcast a downpour of eternal bliss. as the pills rain down, the sun melts our plastic landscape. the air we breath is toxic, yet we go on breathing just the same. this complaisant existence carries the weight of extinction. while the bombs fall we cheer for the curtain call. if we find this meaning in our minds then is it meaning at all? or just cold, lifeless doctrine?

Thursday, October 25, 2007

that fanny-pack matches very nicely with your turtleneck

to a world that longs for the intimacy of 1,000 desperate arms and clings to their warmth. this is the end where the means are always justified and the status quo is our riot control. this morphine induced state of peace is our hallow legacy. death beats in my chest, with a framework crafted in the grave. how can this spineless creature hold onto so much pride? "follow me and i will make you butchers of men." manipulation steals my love. art is now officially dead, binary is all we will ever need. we make our beds on broken mirrors and wonder why our reflections are smeared with blood. we built this church in the rolling hills of La Mancha and don Quixote cares for our souls. in that distant land they only speak in tongues of idealism. if this is all we will be remembered for, then forget i even existed. la esperanza no es una arma. la esperanza es un cancion sin notas. la esperanza no es un amigo. la esperanza es un extranjero. la esperanza no es un conclusion feliz. la esperanza es una guerra.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

ACT I: sabotage, drama, and romance(and all this in a fast food restaurant)

something tells me this is all a lie. these tears are just chemical and these feelings mechanically engineered. and my deeds are only a result of calculated conditioning. money bleeds from the walls of this holy city and its gates welcome all who are weary that seek rest(success). theives and saints alike gather to carve a tombstone fit for God. its citizens fight for a position atop the lonely pedastool and bury their own in trenches of hypocrisy. in this great arms race, its arsonal overflows with scare tactics and condescending slogans. those who worship come to prey over the helpless. everything here is justified just as long as the victims remain dead. everything is justified. we have achieved a state of eternal tranquility(status quo). but what do we do when we realize that our guardian angels were really clever demons in disguise?

Sunday, September 23, 2007

coping mechanism

here is where innocence evaporates into an atmosphere of realism. even sleep is void of dreams. every word is stripped of sentiment. all truth is drenched in cynicism. this is self-help at its finest. subtle criticism was the only sound that poured from his father's lips. never an affirmation of love, simply a hallow embrace. a self-esteem branded by short-comings. he dressed his insecurity in an elaborate suit of pride. searching for acceptance, he finds himself between other people's sheets. he dreads sleeping alone and letting his mind wander back to the sulking child in his closet. numb and tired of sharing her heart only to have it broken, she resolved to settle things her own way. she now wears her hope on her wrists. control and feeling are welcomed back in a crimson tide. the dependable pattern has become second nature. we have taken the salvation of mankind upon ourselves. if i didn't know we were dying i might find it beatiful.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

repeating childhood memories

put me on exhibit. show me off to the crowd. parade me through the streets. i share the lion's eyes. a hopeless shade of grey. looking past rusty, metal bars out onto a world of vivid color. both tamed and trademarked in a distant, corporate cubicle. the simple diversion of children's dreams is the only thing keeping this place from becoming a burial ground. all my limbs are now vestigal and the roots are creeping up and starting to swallow me. but life wasn't always so confined. the laughter outside almost conquers the silence when i think about the freedom that once covered me. i was once liberated but now ive lost my way. this maze is making me sick and each wrong turn is paved by the walls of my ever-beating heart. even if i called out to you for help, my every word would be caught between the bars of their ivory prison. my life without you is a never ending trip to the zoo.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

promised land

what a perfectly, protected society we have built. we have sterilized the very air we breath. our majestic lives stand safe behind these brick walls that keep out the impressing tidal waves. the tide smashes against an impermeable barrier of concrete and dedication. the ever present sun smiles down upon our paradise as to confirm our great pride. steel and glass intertwine as they twist and climb to the heavens, piercing the motionless, blue sky. we conquer the clouds while distinction between god and a steady work ethic is quietly laid to rest. animal instinct has never been so kind to these erotic streets. pain has been made obsolete, our children have never known life without a silver spoon between their teeth. questions of existence are overwhelmed by the smell of money on our hands. all thought is drowned out by the sounds of the cockroaches in top hats. their empty scurrying resounds like thunder, it's all i hear. this betrayal has left me numb and slowly i am becoming comfortable with its consequences. today the sun set behind the skyline. night chased away the light and brought with it foreign emotions, fear and insecurity. oh how ignorant is our vanity! our once blameless wall begins to crack under the pressure. through the holes I see the stars reflecting on the water and im seeing this for what it really is, im looking past the mirage. no matter how much soap we use, we can never wash the ink from our nails, and that's why im letting go. this time I am letting the water in. finally letting the waves take me away from here.

Sunday, August 26, 2007

modern life...a novel

linear life in grey chronology. subtle hum of a machine. eyes reflecting narcolepsy. stagnant love finds cocaine dust on mother's dress and another woman's hair on father's suit: She wakes up to a breakfast buffet of sugar coated pills. an array of brightly colored invitations to escape. he repeats yesterday only to come home to a half-empty bottle of salvation. with each sip the pain dulls. the mirror she gazes into has a sobering effect. she cries in terror as she looks into the eyes of the monster in her nightmares. the constant pounding in his head quickly brings reality back into full focus. he reaches once again for the bottle, when deep down he really only longs for a hand. our lives are open books, but writer's block ended the reader's suspense before the plot can develop. nothing but beautiful, blank pages bound by a desperate search for meaning, for a resolution, for the perfect rhyme. questioning everyone but the Poet.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

copywrite the forgery

sometimes i wonder if You were ever to write anything what it would be like. i think you would write in free verse. i definitely don't think it would be haiku. i'm not saying that you couldn't write haiku, i'm sure if you did it would be the most beautiful and moving haiku ever composed. but the liberty of free verse just seems to be your style, no limits. with every stroke of the pen, summoning the wind and capturing the untamed ocean tide. i don't think i would ever find your writing on any topsellers. and i know i would never see your writing in pristine gold print at the alter. no, your words would be found on some worn, brick walls in a far off village, carved by starving infants. they would be found written on the hearts of theives and daydreamers.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

insomnia has a way of making you appreciate a comfortable bed

the day has come and all the picture frames have realized their shattered fate. the autumn leaves woke up in destiny's cold embrace. i've been drawing up these battle plans for as long as i can remeber, consider them a confimration of my love for you. i am making my last stand here in this, the art of strategic warfare. listen to the quiet symphony of men marching to the melody of their own children screaming. my masterpiece is complete when these air raids add a generous texture to the blood-stained city streets. come sit with me on this hill and watch the world i created go up in one bright flame tonight. i've been calculating my convictions. how did my soul come to love this deistic paradise? when did my heart learn to accept such hollow scenery? i long to breath outside of this casket but i need its warmth in this frozen solitude.

Sunday, August 12, 2007

one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish...pop quiz, in-class essay, and life draining lectures!!

so do you remember back in the day when your parents read to you and you LOVED it, or at least i did. i loved reading and i loved it when my parents read me a bedtime story. reading with my parents is one of my most cherrished memories as a little kid. but then came the day that i started to hate reading with a passion!! i don't even know what happened, it was just like i loved it one day and the next i hated it. i remember reading all the childrens classics like: 'Goodnight Moon,' 'Harold and His Purple Crayon,' and who could forget all the adventures of Spot! and i remember all the not so memorable books of my more 'mature' years like: O' Pioneers , Grapes of Wrath , and everybody's favorite Oliver Twist. I remember doing a BookIT and making up books and authors to get by. I remember having summer reading and never actually doing it!although im ashamed to admit it, sparknotes become one of my trusted resources for english class. im sure my story of reading frustration is a universal coming of age story. but over the last few years and especially last six months i have rediscovered the excitement i once had for reading. obviously it's not as pure and idealistic as when i was a little tike but i have found that reading truly does open the mind to a new world. i am especially in love with Brave New World by Aldous Huxley, 1984 by George Orwell, Spinal Cord Perception by Joshua Stephen Porter, Bartleby the Scrivener by Herman Melville, The Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break by Steven Sherrill, and basically all poetry ever just to name a few. reading is by no means as important as say starvation, human trafficking, poverty, homelessness, or sweat shop scandals but i honestly believe we as a society have learned to hate reading and learning and have thus become a close minded and judgemental as people due to a lack of opening up to new ideas and letting our imagination roam. our great minds never get used and our poor imaginations get caged up when we are little and told that we shouldn't think big and that we can't change the world. i don't think that reading can change the world, i only believe that God and his true love living inside of us and through us can do that. but i do believe that it can change our perception of the world and open our minds to new and exciting ideas.

Monday, August 6, 2007

sitting in a cold hotel room in the middle of nowhere minnesota, somewhat hungry, thinking about life

there is something deep within me that beats like a steady, tribal war drum. The rhythym is a constant, dull pain in my brain. It involuntarily drives and controls my actions. Something has mastered my mind, it has tamed my once free and wild insides. It has ignited a flame that burns bright with one purpose and sychronizes my words and my steps in unity to fuel the fire. A pyre is set in my heart and my will is set to burn at the stake. the beat moves through my body and gives shape to my limbs and meaning to my lips. but i can't remember if it has always lived inside of me. was it a primal sense or some truth we deduced? maybe this is the sign of progress, a mechanical civilization with an i.v. full of vicodin. if this is the future, then open up your eyes and look to hollywood. if only this love could exist outside of this idealistic hope. if only this love could exist outside of self. if only i could love anyone half as much as i love myself...

Friday, August 3, 2007

a not so simple lesson in biology(the foodchain has to end somewhere)

let's call this is symbiotic relationship. we can't abandon this photosynthetic process. my pupils dialate from the light of our love. i am the clock that eats at your skin. if you're looking for protection, or maybe just confinement, i give you permission to crawl into my mouth. it's more comfortable than a bodybag and safer than a maze, with just as many turns and deadends. i started the metalic fire that has been consuming your bones and burning in your marrow. we need no introduction. i am the cartilage that is wearing thin between your joints. i am the analog bird that you dreamt about. i soar between the clouds in a digital sky. everything looks different under this pressure. let's call this a symbiotic relationship. but now that i think about it, i may just be your parasite.

Monday, July 30, 2007

call me old fashioned

my eyes scan the page from line to line. all the red letters blur and swirl through my vacant mind. like waves on the shore, they will crash against my skull and then quickly recede back to the pages they came from. the wind caresses my skin and dances in the treetops as i stand before an endless green ocean of trees, with a blank expression.

Saturday, July 28, 2007

organic cemetery

the clock strikes ten as wires turn to veins and climb up the ceiling and crawl down the walls. this room is alive again. the pounding of the heart drowns out our voices and rattles in our chest. you don't have to be brave, i can see the tears in your eyes. the blood of jaded men is rising fast. keep your head above the surface and don't swallow their lies. with every heartbeat a new captive helplessly becomes part of the room. slowly they sink into the walls, their heartbeats' indistinguishable from that of the room. their lives once defined by beautiful imperfection and individual potential now defined by bleeding walls and frayed wallpaper. i can feel the room closing in on me as i compromise my aspirations. i can feel it's warm breathe on my cold neck as it whispers to me in a grey voice. it tells me to drop my morals and swim in the flood. it's breathe reecks of relativity. the clock strikes twelve, this is it. the room is almost filled to the roof, swim for saftey darling before it takes you too. i can feel myself dissapear as i become one with the room.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

white box

hese pretty, white-washed walls, that keep me safe, are only getting taller. the cracks in the cement are held together by layers of cheap, neon graffiti. it's a beautiful display of our growing intellectual supremecy. with words like 'theology' and phrases like 'legalistic liberty' scribbled artistically to remind ourselves of the treasure we've found. we dream in an atmosphere of spray-paint slogans. we live in a perpetual state of fear as the bold letters warn of the danger that lurks beyond the walls. i'm addicted to this security, but i can't help but wonder what's outside these walls i've known all my life. i'm done letting my mind play trick on me, i'm letting go and i'm taking a risk. when i finally opened my eyes i couldn't help but notice the old, canvas billboard in between the wild, carefree branches.

Friday, July 13, 2007

analyze the conclusion

s it true that an entire ocean, in all it's pride, could be bottled up inside one single shell? and then set free one day by the brave little girl or the curious little boy who has enough faith to put their ear to the shell? all uncontainable beauty aside, we cut down the jungle and we built efficient little gardens. don't be so naive sweetie, you're swallowing the same growth hormones that gave our lettuce a spine and drinking the same pesticides that gave the carrots a tongue. if theology can control our god than maybe he lives in our imagination. i'm done playing in this seasick game. at least the rules are simple enough: wash only your own feet and never get caught frowning. the captain said he spotted land but we capsized at the docks. grace died in the pews. we may walk upright on two legs but that doesn't mean we can talk with the sun. since when did poetry compose the rigid structure of our rulebook? o god save us from our own minds.

Friday, June 8, 2007

the fight for individuality and the irony of identity fraud(everyone wants to be someone else)

this is the land of the free who chose slavery. an ever expanding suburbia built with strategically placed tombstones. your coffin is just part of the scenery. never mind the green in our eyes or the ink on our skin, we built this three car garage with integrity and the sweat on our brows. elastic lips. we're impailed on our white picket fences. once friends, now buisness associates. just another conquest. steel and plastic nametags twist and form into the shape of a heart. socially accepted contortionist. every smile rhymes and every kiss hints at silverscreen innocence. like riding a merry-go-round on the highway.

Monday, June 4, 2007

Friday, June 1, 2007

horror story

have you heard the rumors about the creature that lurks down by the shallow creek? the hiddeous monster with a manipulator's soul. with naive curiosity burried in their hearts, he draws the children to come play with an inviting smile. once they have all too willingly given their trust, he uncovers his fangs and feeds on their innocence. at a glance his face looks normal, but underneath discover brittle scales and open wounds. his eyes are clouded with a milky grey and filled with war. a war surrendered so long ago in the fight to keep his heart alive. it seemed like a worthy cause at the time, but now the calvary drinks deep from a jaded cup. from his mouth grows a plastic boquet. but hidden behind seductive color lies a slippery tongue dripping with poison. from each cracked tooth his victim's flesh hangs. you'll feel compelled to release your problems and darkest secrets into the safety of his empathetic ears. but say too much and he'll swallow you into that deep canal. this beast has followed me to the end. he haunts my every thought. i will kill him and set us free. cut out his lungs and give life back to this dead town and all his slaves. as i press my hands up against my face i peel the scales away and run my fingers over new scars. i look into the mirror with empty eye sockets and try to cry but no tears come. i open my mouth to scream but only synthetic petals fall from my lips. i can hear them praying for deliverance inside the dark keep of my mind. have you heard the legends of the villian down the street? they're all true.

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

there's more to life than binge and purge

don't worry about the footprints behind you and don't strain your neck to see the dark trail ahead. just let your tongue get caught up in the undertow from waves of medication. wash it down with a glass of your finest wine. slip the blindfold over your eyes and slowly all reality will be dulled and senses calmed. the stalks grew unnoticed through the pavement. keep still, the harvest this way comes. the rusty old sheers peel skin from bone and now the crops wade ankle deep in my blood. but i have never seen the sun shine so bright. i stumbled into the prophet's mouth and now i'm trapped. it's cold and damp behind these teeth but i found the flock. the cap won't provide much resistance for your desperate fingers. peer into a collage of color. a tunnel filled to the brim with ounces of empty hope. poverty came with a network of endorphins. your kind acts cannot disguise the hemophiliac.

Saturday, May 26, 2007

the girl next door

wait, there's something going wrong here. i should have know, i should have seen the look in her eye. leaving a trail of scattered hopes in her wake. princess of a kingdom of vultures that feast on mankind. i can see the crown you wear so proudly, it was made with skin and bones. you keep walking to the shore to meet the roaring tidal waves. i'll kiss your salty, blue lips and wake you up. you limp back bruised and battered with tears in your eyes. i'll grab your fragile hand and whisper softly into your ear. you'll smile and then run back to the beach. this sand and his sting is your comfort zone. stay away from her boy! she'll cast a spell and capture your heart. the ambulance is always one step ahead and the hearse is one behind.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

blood, death, and disaster are a little cliche but then again so are fame, glamour, and romance

a new morning has dawned. it came hand in hand with reform. progressing and expanding to the setting sun. refining the air we breath. turning weaping faces into expressionless stares. at least it's an improvement. every afternoon the old politicians are marched out back and smothered with blueprints. our once harmless habbits evolved into dark and souless vices. they creep in the shadows and devour us with bloodstained teeth in the secret of our homes. aware of their intentions, we left our doors cracked. graveyard masterfully transformed into a playground. if hidden bones remain, our utopia vanishes.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

80123

i reach to fasten my seatbelt. this is my communion with the almighty. hands folded from point a to point b. the noise swirls all around, sometimes it's a fog and sometimes it's a wasp. the only silence i hear is the brief moment in between the dialtone and your answering machine. lazy tongues, frozen in motion, slur endless sylables into a monologue, stopping only to come up for air. the winding, black pavement calls me back to explore its hidden adventures. thousands of miles of blending white dashes and radiowaves is my choice. i bent down to kiss distraction's red lips. the only faithful mistress i have left. i'm such a gifted architect, building walls from armor. i don't fear commitment but i can't help but notice the rope you hold. i haven't had a dreamless night in a while now. acquaintances avoid messy handshaking.

Sunday, May 20, 2007

?

do ever fear the skeleton you try so hard to hide will wake up and leave the confines of your fragile body? take a breathe a walk straight through your skin. your insides walking around for all to see. every broken bone and blemish dancing to the sound of your voice. do you ever wonder if 'relationship' was a cleverly invented phrase for economy? simply the calculated business of supply and demand. or the subtle art of manipulation. does every heart come with a barcode? if so, i am nothing more than a consumer. does my soul adorn your mantle place? if i fell from the map would i then land at your feet or swim through the waters of your mind? do you even think that breathing could be voluntary or that you were built simply to break? do you ever close your eyes and hope for a disaster? a swift and sudden end. one so brilliant and original it will never be forgotten. but there's no turning back once you've experienced the sweet and unsettling embrace from the grave. just ask the nihilist who sleeps with his ideals below the ground.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

i don't want to live my life without any scars

i am so tired of laying awake, wondering where i could be if i was someone else. insomnia steals from me as thoughts drift between delusions of grandeur and suburban development. everything in this neighborhood is familiar and i am just another restless soul among the thousands marching toward death with open arms. their faces, expressionless and their eyelids, fastened over their eyes. i already met the humble servant of man, we exchanged glances on the busy street corner. i have seen it all and have come face to face with the revolution, and i'm cold. making a house with broken glass was too hard so i'd rather make myself at home in this cage. i have a perfect view of a cascade of billboards through the bars. potential is such a sharp sword, i choke on every sylable.

Thursday, May 17, 2007

schizophrenia on broadway

i've been scribbling these letters for days with no end in sight. i am the infamous playwrite and slowly i am becoming one with the pages. my veins meet where tragedy is forged. i sail through seas of ink and brainwaves. leave me to direct this stale plot. the light blinds and brings perspiration and panic to the surface. behind every princess lurks a villian. everyone in this room plays thier role while i memorize the script from front to back. i came to rescue the princess from unsuspecting danger but i arrived to find her singly sweetly to the cold corpse on the floor. he made his bed in a pool of his own blood while he slept peacefully with a knife forced firmly in his chest. this battle in my own head has always defined who i am. i feel the bullet make its exit through my skull. i am sinking under imagination.

Sunday, May 13, 2007

sometimes i do things right, but mostly i disgust myself

i work my fingers to the bone. inventing a contradicting escape. pretty soon there will be nothing left but dust and lies. sell out your life or sell yourself short. i scream at the top of my lungs into the mirror, cursing my reflection. but i didn't know which tongue i was hearing. like a flower hidden beneath the burgandy cover of fall, my words lay down to die in peace. my heart is the easel for this compromise. the canvas drips, the walls bleed, and colors collide. meet me at the treetops, i'll lead you to the branches and leave you at the limb. the weight of this screenplay is too much to bare, but i'll go it alone. i am the assasin and the cold touch of pride and the barrel are all i will ever know. a rope descended from your hand when i deserved the sword from your mouth.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

i wish for once in my life i would finally do something for someone other than my wretched self

diplomacy grows pale while the trupmet sounds. this is where we make our last stand. we're taking it into our own hands. the general feasts while his company comes face to face with their disasterous end. i will drown you in the shallow well of grace. i won't wait any longer. open wide and swallow my bayonet. taste and repent. our infantry stands strong. the pulpit and a missle launcher. i can see why you dress in armor. like father, like son and vice versa. sound off for the roll call, this is our tally. but there is no love in numbers.

Monday, May 7, 2007

cursed by the day that i arrive

Today I realized that life is full of SO MUCH beauty, it's overwhelming! After a long time of thinking and rethinking about the nature of human existence I have to come to a very simple conclusion. First of all I have finally decided that there will never be a day that I am satisfied with myself as a human being or follower of Christ. In fact, I hope there is never a day that I am completely satisfied with myself as a well-rounded person, or faithful follower of Christ. There is so much for me to learn about selflessness, love, people, and life in general. I am constantly failing God in every aspect of my walk with Him. So as for now I have decided that I am going to try to enjoy the ride, and enjoy the learning experience that is life. Second of all I have decided that I am blind! There is so much beauty in the everyday things, that I often pass by without a second glance. I cannot even imagine how amazingly different my life would be if I would simply stop and admire God and the beauty of life without giving so much time to all the pointless distractions I put in my life. So many times in my life I feel like I have seen everything there is to see and I feel like God doesn't surprise me anymore, but if I would just look past my own face I would be swept off my feet by his beauty and majesty. He is a field without a fence and a door without a key.

Thursday, May 3, 2007

maternal devestation

majestic beauty, floating on air with each step. she hides pearls behind that glossy red gate. her silver, starry eyes hide secrets she'll never tell. black hair falls innocently in her face and casts a shadow of inner serenity. her red dress still burned in my retina. a form brushed elegantly with purity. how did such a delicate mother give birth to these crippled leeches? beauty with millions of decrepit children. with eyes, but stitched shut. with ears, but no brain. with a mouth, but no voice. a spinal column, with no vertebrae. knots of interwoven bone, with no feeling. dressing in robes and armor. to hide the tangled web of black, pusling viens beneath. they pretend to be more than a mere passenger-seeking parasite. they call for thier masks. thier hollow screetching deafens her. never the same. a new mask for every ocassion. they have no identity, they have no need for one. every mask burning hotter. every mask cutting deeper. every mask sears and pierces flesh. faces shaped and reshaped. welcomed deformity. celebrate tonight. for the gallows await the morning. prepare the guillotine! we will paint the streets red. sterilize the needles. expectant mother prays for miscarriage. our great walls will fall. our swords, broken at the helm. arrows reign the skies. our city stands in ruins. an insatiable fire consumes our dreams. crops turn to dust as livestock feast on the farmer. if this is our baptism, then we all shall surely drown. renaissance arrives! the craddle holds hope. you expect me to lead this deathmarch! i'm as guilty as them. but the glorious mask will put an end to all that.

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

idealistic realism

in a society built by caffeine and machinery we raised a generation of poets. send them to war.

Monday, April 30, 2007

people are a peculiar sort

here we swim. removing the teeth of the great shark only to return to the palm of the giant. yellow tape designating a graveyard. we follow the beaver, competing for death's affection. surrounded by reality we bow our hearts to our wooden gods that we keep on strings. we're nothing but occupied ants with a deadline. we're nothing but camoflauge skin stretched over pointed ribs. we continue to settle in this land. we are bound so tightly by the clocks we cherish. if there are no bandanas, then we are all bandits. to put it simply, reno forgot about her gold rush.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

technologically speaking

to whom it may concern:
im sry 2 inform u thru this txt but ystrdy ur drst mthr died when her ruf colpsd :(
ttyl

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

if ignorance is bliss, im the happiest person alive

strike up the band, i can see the procession of needy sinners. it's time to make a masterpiece! take a number, you can keep your coat but leave your brain. conformity in the form of a killer. we leave when our dreams lay lifeless on the floor. the great lizard waits patiently outside. his eyes burn the morning sky and fire pours from his lips. with one bite he will expose a maze of bones and spill the flowing seas contained inside. i'll kiss your bite marks while toxins rush to your heart. but please don't bleed on the carpet. make a hole in the roof and let the snow gather inside, a monument of perfection. a symbol of our souls! but oh how quickly it melts! i would gladly stretch my hand out to the broken-hearted widow on the sidewalk. just make sure the bright flash of your camera embraces my silhouette.

Sunday, April 22, 2007

all creativity and beauty is in utter jeopardy

the hum of the air raid sirens fills the calm sky. pleasant white noise. prestige burried under rubble. we live between fear and paranoia. the sun steals our prays. the night restores panic. fortune smiles down on the sleepers that line our streets, and she blesses them with undisturbed dreams. nashville was nothing but a name. put your faith in the blood soaked homes. if destiny drips, so do we. underneath the remains that our ancestors dedicated their souls to, a new discovery. cross paths with uniquely meshed wood and string. another artifact to add to our collection. how strange their obsessions. no use to bury the dead, it's not a dagger. burn the wood, string the bows. who would have guessed, at the end of it all we would find ourselves back at the beginning.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

learning to manage

manipulate every breath. control every heart beat. framing pictures of eclipses. white fades. days blur. salvation in aisle four. arms race to redemption. american dream or second hand nightmare. industry swallowed improvement. i will lead the funeral procession before the parade. fulfilling my postmodern meaning. bask in pious pride or bathe in a moral massacre. i feel the wind and hear the leaves blow. but all i see is glass and cement. i am blind past the branches. you are the air in my throat. but i will trap you in my chest. we will bury simplicity under a stage.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

the fuse is our anchor

somehow this made its way into my head. every step on stage. bowing to a chorus of bullets. keep the rose, throw the thorn. check my calendar, make sure every moment falls of a sunday. i'm choking on your point of view. their eyes fell out when they blinked. replace the parts of the microscope. with my hands, i built him. brick, wire, and all. but you wanted bone. my bones are much to valuable to let you crush. is it easier to applaud with blades?

Sunday, April 8, 2007

what an odd place to put a desert

used to love the warmth of your embrace and the smile on your face. but i couldn't see the darkness behind me. i am the selfish samaritan. and now im stuck in this invisible desert. colorful kites and hungry vultures fly gracefully overhead. dead bones and telephone poles make for great company. the guns always point back home. passive scapegoat. ignore every need. forgive the dry well. your nets speak of my demise. i can't go on like this, so drained. i kneel, empty hands held out with nothing to offer.

Tuesday, April 3, 2007

corset

set the scene. cold, dark room. she puts her hands to her face as streams of mascara run down her arms. a familiar feeling. salt and water stain her pillow. shhh don't wake mother, don't wake father. in a few hours the shrill sounds of a new morning will fill her room. she prays it brings new hope.
set the scene. sunlight peeks in behind drawn shades and warms the cold room. she drowsily reaches to turn off her alarm. her heart grows weak as she listens to the lies her mirror whispers. its deceptive voice is no stranger to her innocent ears. out of the corner of her eye she sees the scale that holds the key to her value in a firm, unrelenting grip. the new morning forgot to bring the hope she asked for.
set the scene. typical, drama filled high school with the pressure of one million staring eyes. she walks through the halls waring a new stripped top and her favorite, faded, american eagle, blue jeans. the ones with the systematically placed and machine produced holes. she has no reason to smile, but she will anyways, it's automatic. she can't risk exposing anything under that beautiful exterior. panic sets in as she hears the lunch bell. the thought of food disgusts her. she chockes down her lunch to pacify her jury. but have no fear, she'll find solace in purging the poison. abusing the gag reflex has become second nature. the acid burns steady in her throat, but it's a taste she has learned to cope with.
set the scene. cold, dark room. waves crash in all around her. airbrushed perfection. holywood's unforgiving glare. skin deep fantasy. waves crash all around. vanity sharing the stage with validation. brainwashed starvation. waves crash. check vital signs. knife with dried blood. return hands to face. cue the mascara downpour. this cycle is endless.

Saturday, March 24, 2007

independent declaration

a forest. dark. unfamiliar.
a shoreline. quiet. motionless.
no city. no ripple.
a fire. a flood.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

tricycle and briefcase

this utter chaos makes me question. is this really what you meant? soap opera reality? icarus complex? dog eat dog? brother fights brother. genocide takes a backseat to wallstreet. could this really be what you had in mind?
porcelain figurines with long, curly hair and crystal blue eyes sit in the corner collecting dust as big sister raises little brother. she covers his ears and tells him everything will be okay as screams of battery and neglect echoe throughout the house. tears trickle down her cheeks as she whispers to him and tells him, "this is the last time" and that "mommy and daddy really do love each other." it will all be over soon. time for the same old bedtime story. the one with pirates and dinosaurs. maybe even where's waldo. anything to escape from here. she tucks him in, kisses his forehead, and then makes her way to the garage. she opens the door and stares longingly and hopelessly at her favorite, pink tricycle. the ribbons on the handlebars tell of a stability and joy long past. the shiny, silver bell rings like sirens in her frail ears. she shuts the door and wipes her eyes. "that's the past" she tells herself defiantly.
this utter chaos makes me question. is this really what you meant? soap opera reality? icarus complex? dog eat dog? brother fights brother. genocide takes a backseat to wallstreet. could this really be what you had in mind?
in a world of performance, he found his place in the monotony. full speed ahead. he rose fast and worked hard, the only victim was his passion. he chocked his dreams into submission. holding his heart at arms lenght, slowly his veins froze. his lungs became machines. every morning dragging his rigid skeleton along for the morning commute. identity in profession. his only company, the cubicle. every smile plastic, fake. he covered his desolate insides with fancy and expensive costumes. gucci this and prada that. leather briefcase. spotless black shoes. anything to keep life on the surface.
this utter chaos makes me question. is this really what you meant? soap opera reality? icarus complex? dog eat dog? brother fights brother. genocide takes a backseat to wallstreet. could this really be what you had in mind? how did we end up here? a world so pure in its infancy. we built this foreign land with our will. our hearts are the breeding ground for this pandemic. i can barely see truth and hope through this tapestry of disaster that we weave. beyond ourselves You wait with the cure. You are the only stable ground left in this shifting mirage of promise.

Sunday, March 11, 2007

mostly grey...and a little white

ad excuse for a saint. a life in ruin. mastering the art of spinning webs and burning bridges. empty words casting shallow shadows on my face. a whole eternity spent designing this neon tombstone, the moment passed me by. i always watch it come and go with each motion in my chest. there's always been a flicker of hope. repentance. redemption. how great the climb, and how great am i. pride returns. viscious cycle complete. i prefer narcolepsy. finding promise in nightmares and foreign lands. i live between bloodline and flat line.

Friday, March 2, 2007

trebble cliff

i avoid mirrors unless they can bend truth. beauty's at my fingertips but i'm in love with something hiddeous. redefining recession. i have to find the bullet that put his hole through my heart. beauty's at my fingertips but i'm in love with a cannibal. i have to find a scalpel. i will cut until i remove the deceitful phantom inside. beauty's at my fingertips but i'm in love with destruction. the barrel with put an end to the magician and his curse. beauty's at my fingertips but i'm in love with despair. i can find no lying glass. the bullet does not exist. the scalpel cut deep only to carve out debris from bone and limb. the idle trigger could find no illusionist and the doctor could remove no spell. beauty's at my fingertips but i'm in love with myself.

Monday, February 26, 2007

fingerprints left by stick figures

held hostage in a skeletal scenery. all thought drenched in ambiguity. holding an umbrella in a windowless room. stagnant motion. searing to bone. the hospitality of a southern cemetary. i cut down this forest. frail roots wither and burn. open your eyes. see the smoke rise against the hills. i can't stop running. they come with knives and tubes. i will hide by the river. by the shores they will force me to the depths. the waters of status quo. join hands with airbrushed models and two-faced reptiles.

Monday, February 19, 2007

zoo

the sun sneaks through branches and steel bars. -i wake up and eat in fear and anticipation of the creatures. -the sun uncovers its shy face. -enter the hiddeous creatures. -the sun smiles overhead and gently caresses my back. -the attrocious creatures form into one indistinguishable mob and utter in one deafening, foreign voice. -the sun casts its spell of euphoria on utopia. -i pace nervously, pretending to forget about the ever present creatures. -the sun delivers its last rays of hope and warmth. -exit the hiddeous creatures, limping and wounded. -the moon peers in behind glass and concrete. -the creatures haunt my dreams, i can ne

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

life on yhe subway

walking mindlessly with no destination. public transit rings in my ears like falling rain. doors open and people run past preocuppied. i enter and immediately scan the crowd. searching for a challenge, anything at all. appearance. fashion. intelligence. morality. value. wipe sweat from forehead. there are none to contend. this is life on the subway.
stop one- welcome the beautiful mistress with scars! enter heartache. loss. insecurity. misunderstanding. invisibility. she cowers in the corner, hoping none will notice. all value defined in voices. indiferent to love. this is life on the subway.
stop two- welcome the distinguished drug dealer with his disguise! enter compromise. duplicity. distraction. ambiguity. corruption. he stands proud and strong, craving all to notice. hiding an empty skeleton behind designer clothes and good manners. he shuts off all reception. indiferent to turth. this is life on the subway.
stop three- welcome the ragged vagrant with an iron heart! enter hurt. addiction. failure. vice. frailty. tension. solitude. abondonment. jaded by judgment, he lies shivering on the bench. apathetic toward acknowledgement. stares used to haunt his dreams. now even death hides from him. ready to give up. indiferent to pain. this is life on the subway.
stop four- doors open and i exit with three others. farewell to all! farewell to vanity. desperation. comatose. collousness. purspose turns into a foreign word without a translation. this is life.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

top 10 reasons to wear a sweater: according to bill cosby

no sounds of life are heard on this open sea of mercury. the wind carries the groans of the dead. surface reflects solitude. each wave hitting harder. i am the daring captain of this vessel. sailing through the veins of treason, i clench the wheel in one hand and my skeleton in the other. in the calm of the ocean floor, the anchor dances with the reef. the cabin floods through the porthole. breathe freezes in my throat. hold tight to the sails, i see the sun rising. caught in the aftermath, our cries summoned the sharks. they circle as the fog swarms. we left the lifeboats on the shores' safe keep.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

crocodiles hidden in puddles

contractors diving real estate in the oceans. deserts housing a metropolis. oxygen takes the form of our drug. chest reduced to a cage. we save the last dance for the oil fields. i open my mouth as the crow makes his nest. scars contain prophesy for vengence. stomach full of parasites. making me sick as they are a constant reminder of the form i've become. all principles abandoned. we created this clockwork world. purity still remains. if you blink you will miss it, as we comntaminate it with our hearts. will our desperate search for meaning end at monuments and self improvement?

Wednesday, February 7, 2007

without tomorrow

so this is life with eyes half shut. hands tied to yesterday. gates for ears. vampires like us should not be allowed here. desperately waiting for today to fade. tomorrow everything will change. without tomorrow there would be no confession. without tomorrow there would be no reconciliation. there would be no starting over. desperately waiting for today to fade. tomorrow everything will change. risk and hope wait in white. without tomorrow there would be no promises. we enter triumphantly into a new day. the land is scorthed and the darkness consumes the sky. our spines convulse. our bodies turn inside out. revealing a tangled mess of masked expectations. desperately waiting for today to fade. tomorrow everything will change. tomorrow's warm promise never came

Monday, February 5, 2007

sarcaustic

self dependence leaves me worn out. sick of playing God. sanity serrated by the politics in my head. paranoia feeds the need to cover all my tracks. i hold my fears and dreams in my hands. i hold on to my pain and joy. i bear my guilt on a blistered back. hands grip barbed wire traps. squeezing too tightly i suffocate hope and pain colors my hands red. fear sinks into my spine and assumes identity. i could have dropped my guilt and swam but instead i sank with it to the bottom of this dark lake. you're right there. so why am i still reaching for this wheel with mutilated hands?

Thursday, February 1, 2007

vultures, sharks, and my soul

everyone in this city is above human experience. fighting inconsistency with instability. proudly grabbing the tongue. manipulating each phrase to return to sender. ears scarred by neglegence. used only to hear when to open the void of self-seeking praise. a battle to prove volume. attempting to vomit louder than anyone in the room. toxins soothe. i taught them everything they know. i am their ringleader. we're taking over the ship. grave of mirrors.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

clarity : downfall : recognition

wasted decades. the clock ticks down to our final seconds. because we never let love's beautiful voice grace our lips. air raid sirens steal the place of all laughter. since we only apologized on our own terms. we are held captive within cement and glass cages. our hands were never used to shake and our eyes were only used to pass along our judgemental glances. clouds of smoke and fire forecast our weather. nobody escapes this cannibal treaty. preist and lawyer are left homeless and searching for work. the mortician and the gunsmith compose the vertebrae of this frail society. the general holds his troops in the empty cathedrals. run to the hospital! find the stockade! put your faith in your arms! genetics dependent on ambush and nihilism. everything worth fighting for was consumed by stubborn self-dependence. we fight for the mob. you cry out, "oh God i can't remember the snow! i can't remember the way it used to be! i can't remember the rain! i can't remember the snow!" has the sky always been so tainted orange by day and so faded violet by night? we never would have reached this point if we had humbly folded our hands to pray. servant fetch the water! servant fetch the water! servant fetch the water!

Sunday, January 28, 2007

you are cordially invited to the formal dance being held in the ballroom of the sunken ship

good evening miss, good afternoon sir. can i interest you in champagne or maybe some paint thinner? tonight the chef recomends the shards or glass. would you care for a rose or perhaps a knife to remind you of our romance. it wasn't supposed to be like this. we were never meant to live so meaninglessly. 9 to 5 reminds you of the stale air you choose to breathe in so effortlessly. you gave hope to the corporate machine. are you content with simply being recycled? noting to show but a gravestone worn by the rain. your soul flickers and dims. like every dream you let slip through your fingers at the sound of compromise. careful now! or you will become the skeleton in your own closet. safety and comfort haunt your every step. are you content with being recycled?

plan b

call me a heritic. call me a traitor. all Providence has ended. onward to the primative. everyone for themselves(this shouldn't be too hard for us, we've had our practice with it already.) these hands can craft salvation. we looked redemption in the eye and ran. now this mind must concieve a new way in. don't let them see you falling. don't let them see you crying. you can do this on your own. i was finding my own path. i was doing just fine too, with the exception of the blood on my hands. then Your voice called to me. it took me away. outside of time. i saw my life in slow motion. start to end. every word and every move. i cringed as i saw every mistake grow and cast a shadow over me. i watched as every failure ran its course an dmet at Your hands. this is what You had in mind. every action stripped of its meaning. nothing i do can change You.

Friday, January 12, 2007

staging a knife fight at my favorite seafood restaurant

this is the face of a free man who has never tasted his liberty. constantly pulling the dead to shore. blank expression. eyes fixed on the clock overhead. greed caught my eyes with its beautiful flare. lust swept my heart away with its intoxicating romance. all hearing blocked out by the sweet harmony of gossip. intricately produced curses are the only taste on my tongue. the vast intelligence of pride has captivated my mind. monotony started the spark that consumed all my passion. these three walls are the only home i have ever known. the door is locked from the inside and i'm trapped with the key in my hand. this key has always been written on my hand but all i will ever do is stare at the doorknob(in self-pity and disbelief.)

Saturday, January 6, 2007

we all have to give up our dream of becoming an astronaut sooner or later

remember what you mother always told you. find safety in reason. society cut out your heart and gave you meaning. shotgun shells took the place of the cross around your neck years ago. fists raised in the form of grenades. addicted to placing a tangible handle on everything your eyes could not explain. paper money. steel coins. economy. science. wallstreet. debate. anything to give you the upper hand. relieving the sting of the unexplainable. your words never defined truth. true love wasn't born from intellectual strategies. time spent pouring over empty pages that will never bring redemption. will you wait for silence and mercy to bring you home?

Wednesday, January 3, 2007

teresa falls up the stairs, teresa falls down the stairs

i can't remember when this began. but i know it hasn't always been this way. i used to know your voice. i used to know patience. i used to know peace. slowly my insides took over. telling myself i was my own. taking back what never belonged to me. such a simple, fearfull beginning. a little here and there. creeping like a theif at night, wearing black. leaving Your will shattered on the ground. i turned off all sense so i wouldn't have to feel shame. now i wear white and i come at day. stealing with no regret or fear. i know i can't keep this up. larceny is leaving me wearing thin. pieces of me that can not be returned. if i'm yours, take me! i'm so sick of sailing after my own ambitions. only to end up shipwrecked in the middle of the ocean. why can't i trust you? i can't trust your hands. even though they are the only ones that have held me. your palms scream of love!