A starved artist; ironically one who cannot get out of
inside themself what fills them up so completely. Stuffed to the brim they have
to expel in a constipated need for release. And stubborn thought blocks. Astringent
is the cat piss disgust for the lack of an incapacitating, revelating, urge
creating, tempest elating, BUrst… of … …nothing. These words still lack the meaning
of my creating and every intention that arises, falls.. .. and it’s hard to catch breath. The sudden
sensation of emptiness oxymoronically surges, as if walls are reverberating and
everything’s spacing, and there is nothing left to touch because.. A starved
artist… bursting with need and yet full of emptying.. emptying.. nothing. There
is no cessation to this sensation, this raw nerve expulsion of temptational
transaction. .. I’m left limp in subtraction. Is wisdom blind in this
abstraction
Monday, June 16, 2014
Thursday, July 7, 2011
relentless
Could I write words
that don't agitate a tense soul..
Could I write words
that ease.. release.. .relax. his heart…
as effectively as my hands can
unwind his body
Could I extend that part of my soul,
and wrap him warmly in unmitigated comfort,
akin to my arms embrace…
gentle while we sleep..
breaths peaceful and content.
Something
so simple
and in the same moment,
phenomenal.
Could I kiss him?
and breathe passion into his body.
Could I care about him..
so preciously,
and bound like water
.. tenacious ..
but pure in its desire to stay connected.
Could I feel safe..
safe.. regardless of this confusion.
Could I.. …feel… freely.
.be happy in the knowledge of his contentedness.
Could I…
could
he…
could…we….
quietly I listen, and I am
.quixotically.
Compelled.
hiccup,
blink.. eyes glazed he is over-thought..
and I am armbarred
from knowing
..from leaving
relentless
...
....
~05.29.07....
that don't agitate a tense soul..
Could I write words
that ease.. release.. .relax. his heart…
as effectively as my hands can
unwind his body
Could I extend that part of my soul,
and wrap him warmly in unmitigated comfort,
akin to my arms embrace…
gentle while we sleep..
breaths peaceful and content.
Something
so simple
and in the same moment,
phenomenal.
Could I kiss him?
and breathe passion into his body.
Could I care about him..
so preciously,
and bound like water
.. tenacious ..
but pure in its desire to stay connected.
Could I feel safe..
safe.. regardless of this confusion.
Could I.. …feel… freely.
.be happy in the knowledge of his contentedness.
Could I…
could
he…
could…we….
quietly I listen, and I am
.quixotically.
Compelled.
hiccup,
blink.. eyes glazed he is over-thought..
and I am armbarred
from knowing
..from leaving
relentless
...
....
~05.29.07....
tempest
Turning inside out, anxiously reaching for hesitation. Synthetic. Mystified by convolutions so strong I am fuzzy with misunderstood notions. And as a rock strikes the pond the ripples of calm surge and possibility tacks fear and hope and every other emotion blithely to my mind. There seems to be no release of me. I'm always moving. Water.. though I am an air sign, I always feel the most kin with water. Must be my Gemini self. Capricious as I am, I'm torn.. was that a breeze or a swell? Opposites in myself. And as my tempest nature dictates I crave what my fingertips can only achingly graze. Restless as water, I am searching.. And though logic would dictate possibility, I wonder if I will ever be found. I worry I've become a folded memory.
11.06
11.06
Friday, March 4, 2011
the colour of a fool
I am silver and light, tonight: diaphonous pearl. A cocked memory and a teasing spark in my eye.. The one that smirks as it pulls the trigger. And pow you're submersed. Thick and deep. Bubbles everywhere. You're covered and smothered. Confused and all at once willfully and fitfully lost. In that breath. That reality. That silver and light, which bleeds your truth like the traitorous fool it is. Happiness. Happiness is your guise, your saviour, your belief. Yet your eyelashes are stitched together, painted to the floor with grief. I am silver and light, tonight. I have no answer to this story.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
about me
Creative, chaotic, innocent and descriptive. Wisdom blooming, and I am forever reaching, grasping, yearning for the release of tacit expression. Lips tingling with an unrestrained tongue, my mind flashes insight and illustration, confusion and intention.. This, in a breeding desire to guide dandelion thoughts into a cohesion that clicks, interpretively, into place.
So....I'm loony.
So....I'm loony.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
The Pirate, The Boy, and The Peanut
There once was a young man, who after eating a gooseberry pie spiked with moon juice, fell terribly ill. No one in the young man's town knew what to do, for the boy would respond to no medications or treatments.
Now, everyone knows that the evil pirate, Roberto Arnando Del Montague al Noutzen, has in his possession a magical object that could cure all ailments. The boy's parents, fretting themselves raw, and knowing not else what to do, placed the poor sick soul in a fishing boat, and pushed him off to sea. In between his index finger and his thumb they placed an offering. A peanut. (Because everyone also knows Roberto Arnando Del Montague al Noutzen can resist not the temptation of a single peanut.) And they prayed to the ocean gods to guide their son safely to a cure.
The gods, being Martians from outer space, and having brought the moon juice to the earthlings, (also knowing all too well the temptation and power of such a magical concoction, and the hangover - OH! The HANGOVER), took pity on the boy and using the ocean currents, guided the boy to R.A.D.M.a.N.
Swiftly the boy’s small boat approached the massive ship commanded by the evil pirate. Angrily he saw the boat approach - such audacity that anyone dare approach his ship and treasures! - and with a grace born of a man at sea, and a grunt befit only of the piratiest of pirates, he swept up a harpoon gun and aimed it levelly at the poor sick young man. Just as his thick evil finger pressed the trigger just a hairs-span in depth, his keen eye caught sight of something that instantly melted his heart.
The peanut.
Without hesitation RADMaN fished the limp figure of the boy out of the rickety craft, and placed him tenderly onto the ships deck, all the while cooing softly to the peanut.
Now his crew knew all to well the warning that was within that soft cooing sound, and slowly backed away from their dread captain, hands held out in supplication for peace. Or at least, sanity.
RADMaN hungrily licked his lips. He rubbed his hands together briskly in anticipation. He opened and closed his mouth with a sloppy slick wet sucking noise. And he grabbed for the peanut with greed in his beady black eye, (eye, in singular, because his other eye was covered with a patch, of course. Pirate.. duh.) and tried to pry the coveted item from the sick boys fingers.
But it didn't budge.
RADMaN blinked stupidly.
He pulled at it again.
It was stuck fast.
Tug, tug.
Nuthin. It wouldn't budge.
He growled and sat back on his haunches. “Yaaaaar me matey’s! What be the deal here?”
His crew looked back at him warily, none knowing the answer.
Suddenly there was a great boom and a crash from over the railing, the sound knocking the dread pirate back to land squarely on his tush with delicate little ‘oopsie!’ only befitting of the daintiest of milkmaids. (“Ahem!” he says, “Yaar.. I mean.. OOF!”)
A deep and powerful voice echoed over the wind. It was a Martian!!
“T’is the Moon Juice you great fool! It has rendered him stiff!”
RADMaN glared sulkily over at the Martian. “Stiff??” he yelled, “But I wants me peanut, yaar!”
The Martian chuckled mightily. “To get it, evil sir, you must SAVE the poor boy! Using your thingbobbit you got from your last raid.”
“SAVE?” The pirate pouted, “But that goes against me morals! What kind of pirate would I be!”
The great being grinned slyly at the prone, dread, evil pirate. “A peanut-less one.” And with that the Martian slipped silent back into the depths of the ocean.
The pirate stared at the boy, who was still, sure enough, stiff as a wet dream. Pursing his lips, he signaled to one of his crew members, who intelligently enough, scurried away to grab the thingbobbit.
After a brief wait, the crewman returned but yanking awkwardly and pulling in tow a very pretty young lady in a blue dress. Attached to her wrist on a thin gold chain, was the thingbobbit.
“But it’s MINE!” She screeched petulantly. “Daddy gave it to ME!!” Her whole body leaned back in protest, her heels planted firmly with her little toes pointed in the air.
The crewman, completely out of his element, looked bewildered and completely at a loss. The dread pirate RADMaN looked up, although hesitantly, from his contemplation of the small peanut planted firmly in the sick boys fingers. His eyes practically making a tearing sound through the air as his gaze pulled away.
“Susana Petunia O’ Indica La Entre Dam!” He boomed. “My daughter, come here now! Yaar!”
Susana stopped her futile tugging at the pitiable crew member, but didn’t move.
“B..b…but…”
“I said, YAAAAAR!”
SPOILED’s eyes turned the size of saucers. With shoulders slumped in defeat, she approached her father. With the purest expression of mope in all the land, she offered up the thingbobbit.
“I really don’t understand what’s so important..” she started, but her father eyed her sternly and her mouth popped closed, albeit with a perfect pout gracing her lower lip.
“I must save this lad,” he said, “to get me my peanut!”
“A PEANUT!!!” she screeched again, “And SAVE a boy! POPPA,” she said deliberately, “WHAT, KIND, OF, PIRATE, ARE, YOU?”
RADMaN grinned greedily. “One with a peanut! Yaar!” he bellowed triumphantly.
He leaned low and placed the thingbobbit directly into the sick youth’s mouth. Instantly his eyes popped open and he was alert and awake. “WHOOoooOOoOoo!” he breathed, “my HEAD!”
Deftly the evil pirate snatched the peanut from the young man’s still groggy fingers and suddenly burst into a jig and sang a yo ho ho pirate song.
Unbeknownst to him, his daughter suddenly turned from petulant spoiled child, to demure young lady. She watched coyly as the young man wobbily stood up. He was a fine figure of a young man, and she noticed. Blinking, he turned to take in his surroundings, and at once was assaulted by the incredibly beauty of RADMaN’s daughter. They stared at each other unabashedly.
RADMaN, giggling contentedly, finished his jig and popped the peanut in his mouth with a satisfying crunch, (shell and all, Pirate’s eh?). Then, he noticed the two young adults.
He looked to his daughter, then he looked to the young man, then back to his daughter.
“Crap,” he said. “Yaar.”
Now, everyone knows that the evil pirate, Roberto Arnando Del Montague al Noutzen, has in his possession a magical object that could cure all ailments. The boy's parents, fretting themselves raw, and knowing not else what to do, placed the poor sick soul in a fishing boat, and pushed him off to sea. In between his index finger and his thumb they placed an offering. A peanut. (Because everyone also knows Roberto Arnando Del Montague al Noutzen can resist not the temptation of a single peanut.) And they prayed to the ocean gods to guide their son safely to a cure.
The gods, being Martians from outer space, and having brought the moon juice to the earthlings, (also knowing all too well the temptation and power of such a magical concoction, and the hangover - OH! The HANGOVER), took pity on the boy and using the ocean currents, guided the boy to R.A.D.M.a.N.
Swiftly the boy’s small boat approached the massive ship commanded by the evil pirate. Angrily he saw the boat approach - such audacity that anyone dare approach his ship and treasures! - and with a grace born of a man at sea, and a grunt befit only of the piratiest of pirates, he swept up a harpoon gun and aimed it levelly at the poor sick young man. Just as his thick evil finger pressed the trigger just a hairs-span in depth, his keen eye caught sight of something that instantly melted his heart.
The peanut.
Without hesitation RADMaN fished the limp figure of the boy out of the rickety craft, and placed him tenderly onto the ships deck, all the while cooing softly to the peanut.
Now his crew knew all to well the warning that was within that soft cooing sound, and slowly backed away from their dread captain, hands held out in supplication for peace. Or at least, sanity.
RADMaN hungrily licked his lips. He rubbed his hands together briskly in anticipation. He opened and closed his mouth with a sloppy slick wet sucking noise. And he grabbed for the peanut with greed in his beady black eye, (eye, in singular, because his other eye was covered with a patch, of course. Pirate.. duh.) and tried to pry the coveted item from the sick boys fingers.
But it didn't budge.
RADMaN blinked stupidly.
He pulled at it again.
It was stuck fast.
Tug, tug.
Nuthin. It wouldn't budge.
He growled and sat back on his haunches. “Yaaaaar me matey’s! What be the deal here?”
His crew looked back at him warily, none knowing the answer.
Suddenly there was a great boom and a crash from over the railing, the sound knocking the dread pirate back to land squarely on his tush with delicate little ‘oopsie!’ only befitting of the daintiest of milkmaids. (“Ahem!” he says, “Yaar.. I mean.. OOF!”)
A deep and powerful voice echoed over the wind. It was a Martian!!
“T’is the Moon Juice you great fool! It has rendered him stiff!”
RADMaN glared sulkily over at the Martian. “Stiff??” he yelled, “But I wants me peanut, yaar!”
The Martian chuckled mightily. “To get it, evil sir, you must SAVE the poor boy! Using your thingbobbit you got from your last raid.”
“SAVE?” The pirate pouted, “But that goes against me morals! What kind of pirate would I be!”
The great being grinned slyly at the prone, dread, evil pirate. “A peanut-less one.” And with that the Martian slipped silent back into the depths of the ocean.
The pirate stared at the boy, who was still, sure enough, stiff as a wet dream. Pursing his lips, he signaled to one of his crew members, who intelligently enough, scurried away to grab the thingbobbit.
After a brief wait, the crewman returned but yanking awkwardly and pulling in tow a very pretty young lady in a blue dress. Attached to her wrist on a thin gold chain, was the thingbobbit.
“But it’s MINE!” She screeched petulantly. “Daddy gave it to ME!!” Her whole body leaned back in protest, her heels planted firmly with her little toes pointed in the air.
The crewman, completely out of his element, looked bewildered and completely at a loss. The dread pirate RADMaN looked up, although hesitantly, from his contemplation of the small peanut planted firmly in the sick boys fingers. His eyes practically making a tearing sound through the air as his gaze pulled away.
“Susana Petunia O’ Indica La Entre Dam!” He boomed. “My daughter, come here now! Yaar!”
Susana stopped her futile tugging at the pitiable crew member, but didn’t move.
“B..b…but…”
“I said, YAAAAAR!”
SPOILED’s eyes turned the size of saucers. With shoulders slumped in defeat, she approached her father. With the purest expression of mope in all the land, she offered up the thingbobbit.
“I really don’t understand what’s so important..” she started, but her father eyed her sternly and her mouth popped closed, albeit with a perfect pout gracing her lower lip.
“I must save this lad,” he said, “to get me my peanut!”
“A PEANUT!!!” she screeched again, “And SAVE a boy! POPPA,” she said deliberately, “WHAT, KIND, OF, PIRATE, ARE, YOU?”
RADMaN grinned greedily. “One with a peanut! Yaar!” he bellowed triumphantly.
He leaned low and placed the thingbobbit directly into the sick youth’s mouth. Instantly his eyes popped open and he was alert and awake. “WHOOoooOOoOoo!” he breathed, “my HEAD!”
Deftly the evil pirate snatched the peanut from the young man’s still groggy fingers and suddenly burst into a jig and sang a yo ho ho pirate song.
Unbeknownst to him, his daughter suddenly turned from petulant spoiled child, to demure young lady. She watched coyly as the young man wobbily stood up. He was a fine figure of a young man, and she noticed. Blinking, he turned to take in his surroundings, and at once was assaulted by the incredibly beauty of RADMaN’s daughter. They stared at each other unabashedly.
RADMaN, giggling contentedly, finished his jig and popped the peanut in his mouth with a satisfying crunch, (shell and all, Pirate’s eh?). Then, he noticed the two young adults.
He looked to his daughter, then he looked to the young man, then back to his daughter.
“Crap,” he said. “Yaar.”
Saturday, September 25, 2010
the kiss
Soft.. Brilliant. A furnace of fire, built up and powerful; supernova held between our lips. Preciously kept, contained.. ..slight breath.. but a hunger pulls intense, begging, wanting freedom. Fire. All in these lips. ah... this kiss..
09.25.10
09.25.10
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