Saturday 25 April 2009

'my coca-cola stained life'

sometimes you spill over
tripping over
your words
disorganized in thought

unable to communicate
even in your own fucking head

just residing in a lonely
here and now
(there and then)

maybe its all the cell signals
just confusing us
invisibly so
or the dark energy
or the noise
or the taste of urban
san francisco 2009

the taste of the streets
i mean

whatever it is or is not
we suffer nonetheless
tangibly so
in that lonely place
of fog

hovers over the golden gate bridge
in the springtime

heat brings condensation
salt he says
farewell to water

water she sublimates
she floats
up over that golden gate
and hangs out
and chills

like you would if you
just sublimated
like some wonderfully engineered
latte foam creation

but she misses the salt
he was good to her
she kept him afloat
he gave her flavor
they carried the whole
goddamn undersea ecosystem
is what they did!

she is lonely
sublimated up there
lonely at the top you know

the big colored bridge below
may be a sight to see
but his exposed metals
cannot communicate
with miss H2O in the air

its a language barrier
yet she shades him from the sun
and he is her ground
so maybe thats enough

i dont want to feel it
its never enough
never comfortable
and they say
we are never alone

quantum physics
drops the science
right in your lonely
little head

and still you feel it
its not okay
you want to cry
you have to pray

what is gone is gone
what is here is here
and they tell you
accept it

you do and you dont
you are curious
you want another way
cut the truisms in half
get to TRUE

being lonely
is blue
as my coca-cola stained

Tuesday 21 April 2009

like the movies but real #0

'Dairy Queen'

you lost her
but not the memories

she was leaning into you
in a Dairy Queen
not for your money
i mean
lean into you like they like you

thats what she did
your Dairy Queen

over a year ago
you cannot recall
leaned into you
like she liked you
cause she loved you

true blue
true green
true aquamarine

she loved you
like your memory
of her now

liking you
loving you
your Dairy Queen

your greenblue
seldom known
seldom seen

always beating
your heart

Monday 20 April 2009

erotica numero uno

I could see we might be meant to be
the day we fell in synch
you turned the key
i felt the link

the lights they fell down
your hand cupped my tit
the darkness warmed up
glistened the clit

pervasive the moon
persuasive the spell
shallow your rib
deeper the well

still you tried
and you tried me
i cried
and i tried

our cats
they touched whiskers
in cast
candle lights

shadows pre-occupying
the walls
you filled the hollows of
the halls

we shared our stories
our tragedies two
your rush of glories
my ever ever dreams

some come true
others overdue

Deep the well
of our love
nothing we could not
rise above

we etched it on our arms
below in the valley
we spoke from our hearts
we cried and we laughed

our love...
she climbed the charts

Sunday 19 April 2009

a friend and a hairdryer

Yesterday was okay
My equilibrium
com pro mised
Laughs became sighs
Had a kink
in my neck
Slept on it... wrong

In my head yesterday
i sang along
some wonderful
Kate Rogers song
and i
and i
made my mistakes
maid my

Made cookies for today
As I went along
Spilled coffee
into my cup
onto my lap
stopped breathing

a friend and a hairdryer
to the keyboard
saved my life
all day

The friend whose nerves
i tried
the hairdryer whose cord
i fried
on the built-in space heater
by and by...
while warm water
fell over my face

in the shower
laugh became sigh
tear fell from eye
truth began to lie

doubled down
poached egg on the side
curiosity my guide
mind awash
in coffee tide

ressurected the day
after he died
took him aside
shook him
met eyes
came together
as one...

first heat wave of summer

Wednesday 15 April 2009

carbon footprint

So you make the big words smaller or just get really honest and let your body armor down, or divert from the ego of the intellect to the wholesomeness of the heart. you let go of it all and just go back to being again. maybe thats all you can handle anymore in this dream that we call reality. i know its painful. we were born to suffer. that's why some people eat spam and deep fry twinkies. others decide to be devoted and loyal to real losers. some gamble away their homes. or smoke themselves to death. or devote their lives to the study of scat markings. many people watch five hours of television or more every day, life in front of the light box.
Well you don't need to know my particular sad story to really get me, and i probably dont need to know yours. but sometimes its nice to know someone is well-rounded, or just know them all the way round. maybe you noticed i am not capping the first letters of the first words after every sentence. maybe that makes you wonder how i could have been an English major. is she lazy? is she stupid? is this one of those blogs that serves as immaculate justification for the payment of salaries of editorial staff everywhere? well, judge me if you like, at least i spell judgment right. i prefer to speak the vernacular of my experience. Real is all i care to be.
Faces are more expressive than masks. you know. There are more muscles in the face than you might think. Go ahead and google it, if you dont believe me. Let the internet be your eternal source of wisdom. The Internet knows. I think it invented itself, the internet. I think its all powerful. I think it may have created us out of its electromagnetic primordial ooze. And then what do we do? We blunt our affect with masks. You dont know some people you run into from day to day any different. All they give is that one faded old mask they dusted off the shelf. like Rod Blagogevich they self-parody. Or Garrison Keilor. Or our last president. But its really sad when its someone whose not in front of any camera, just someone you know at work or play who could be a cardboard cutout. Fascinating the way they censor themselves. usually in tribute to some noble concept, like perfection. or fear.
Sounds pretty styrofoam, those collective goals we get co-opted into one American family at at time. I was a child in the seventies and eighties. I wore plaid with stripes. I watched Star Trek. I sucked on crazy straws. I solved the rubix cube but maybe cheated. See, you can excuse me! - I could not opt out of the high fructose corn syrup experience I was co-opted into. We weren't even simple sugar by the time the eighties rolled around. We rolled over with the new Coke and became less the genuine article. Yeah, You can still find us, in Mexico somewhere. The facade fell over a long time ago- a Hollywood prop.
So how the hell do you get out of hell? Just by bringing it! Just by kicking down the door to your self. Just by deep frying twinkies and being laughed out of the room. Just by letting go. Stop trying to look good. Wear plaid with stripes in the wrong decade. Go out without combing your hair. Stop smiling when you are depressed in public. Let people know how you really feel (not recommended for antisocials). Stop killing spiders just because you are scared of them and they ruin your sense of security when the lights go out. be spontaneous. stop editing yourself. be all the way 'live'!
Yesterday I was walking home from downtown Oakland into a cross walk, sychronizing my rhythm to the mp3 music, feeling the sun warm my skin, exuberant maybe, when i looked to the left (like a good girl) and saw this minivan coming toward me without slowing down. i paused there in the street and waited... sensed my internal GPS .... sensed the car accelerate slightly into my path and felt my rage of entitlement fill me up and move me. I started walking (the ground traffic controllers getting nervous now, watching the two blips on the screen on a trajectory toward impact, the green wand waved in circles on their defunct radar screens). The diabolical madman behind the wheel just turned it slightly with a push of his cutoff leather glove and drove into the oncoming traffic (lane) to dodge around me. I had become the obstacle of his obstacle course. (Against every fiber of my being). The car passed close enough i could feel its metallic coal breeze. I kicked the car over with a radiation beam from the sole source of collective energy in my foot then watched the car tumble over, wheels spinning out in the air, and burst into flames! (in my imagination). Really though i am non-violent! i had just touched down same day in my new jetblack hi-top all-stars. I could hardly restrain myself from kicking my carbon all-star footprint right through the window into the passengers funny face. Because i am not into violence, all i did was think about it. The thought was violent enough. One block later i let it go. Why should some asshole rent time and space in my head? Okay, maybe 60 seconds. But the rest of the walk home, kicking it to Jimi Hendrix's 'Power of Love', i wondered who are we to think that two poorly painted parallel white lines on asphalt are gonna do anything to really take us to safety in the twenty-first century?!

Tuesday 14 April 2009

midnight revelation

Just awake between sleep, I found myself in (or caught another case of) immaterial space. I was walking around barefoot still dreaming. My soul dripping out my eyes and pores. Out onto the hardwood floors. A pretty sight indeed was I, all highlighted bedhead locks melting the poor midnight stricken clocks. Controls were set for the sun. I mean, my controls went naturally to shut her all off, spray her with toner. Witch hazel to seal up the truth inside, I thought. No one can stand it anyway. People have no time for that kind of time exposure. It gets in the way of the work that needs to be done. Incessantly. But it was only midnight! there was no reason for reason. Time had no grip. Know what i mean? No large clock bearing down upon the neck. All bling had been discarded. The truth was pure and uncut, the road signed by starved dogs lingering between panhandlers. The semi conscious clarity on the Tijuana side of san diego. Eyes afire with deprivation. Call it free association nation. All the things the world is trying to express worked out right there, in front of the mirror, as i unlocked my bedhead and grabbed my hair in my hands for that primal dreamy scream! as my censor got take down for the shake down, tossed up against the fence, bouncing off it at the border of this holy land I only get a glimpse of, at times like these, getting drenched with another kind of knowing, painted bare feet grounded on the hardwood, these midnight conscious reveries. Only proof is the fog of breathe on the mirror, dissipating in reaction to the air again.

Sunday 12 April 2009

Kat from the well

Diving right in now. Scouted briefly for rocks below. All i saw were the shafts of sunlight swallowed up in the deep waters. Maybe thats my unconscious? Well, lets leave it alone. Or just bend the light a little into an arc and opening for refractory dreamscapes to manifest. I hope to follow the sun rays back toward their source, surface and jet into the blue sky cloud swirls like cream in coffee. Permeating the whole damn thing, it will never be the same...but only more delicious. Eighty six the sugar, its really no good. This will not be sugar-coated, this sharing from me to you. If you find sweetness, well, maybe thats my heart. She resides here, or else there is nothing! But expect this fishing expedition to be more than just a slow day of worms hanging on hooks wondering what for. No, its gotta shine or its a waste of my time and yours. Yes, i mean i hope to be honest, as honest as i can find in myself. I will locate humor on the planks the pirates deliver their undesirables out on, to the sounds of prayers carried on aural waveradio channels straight to Somalian shores. Sometimes you gotta dive in. Cause behind you lurks your shadow... and if you dont press on it might wrap you up in dark energy folds and dissipate you into cosmological inconstancies.