Archive for 2013
me and you are going to have this inflated love affair (act one)
on the count of three
me and you will buy the biggest balloon in town
and get a room
we’ll inflate the balloon, mix our breaths
tie it, and let it float to the ceiling
then we’ll get naked
we’ll fuck, and love
and sleep, and wake, and cook
and eat, and play, and bath
and laugh, and just stare
and enjoy each other
then we’ll fuck again
we’ll pay the most minimal of attention
to the deflation of the balloon
in the room, filled with us and it with our breath
but when it reaches the floor
we’ll put our clothes back on
shake hands, and go our separate ways
and when your friends ask, just like mine will
what’d you guys do?! we’ll tell them
we bought the biggest balloon in town
we mixed our breaths, and watched it fall down
they’ll think we’re weird as fuck!
but we’ll smile, cause we did
(shit, i’m smiling right now)
so, you ready?
one
two
this is how we walk to church when the news says priests touch boys
teresa said the poor and suffering are closest to God
so she held them down, and let them stay there
then she lost faith in God
king said i have a dream!
and he did, in beds with hookers
with the wedding ring on
gandhi said an ounce of practice beats a ton of preaching
so he beat up his wife, and chose sex
even when his father was dying
winfrey said integrity is doing the right thing
even when you know nobody’s going to know
then she snorted some coke
sinatra said the mafia?! i’m not friends with them
then sent them gifts
signed – your pal, frank
charles said i can’t stop loving you!
to nine different baby mamas,
he messed around on
hepburn said true beauty is reflected in the soul
then stopped eating and cut her wrists, in her
one of many, bouts of depression
woods said honesty matters more than golf
then he told his mistress
pick up the phone, take my name off
clinton said i did not have sexual relations with that woman
that was how you said mother, martin, mahatma,
oprah, frank, ray, audrey, tiger,
bill
this is how we walk to church when the news says priests touch boys
this is how we sit when they preach, this is how we kneel
this is how the end justifies the means
Is It Possible To Be Happy Without Having Achieved Anything
Happiness, such a broad sweeping word. So abstract. I’ve always liked approaching things pragmatically, so let’s see if I can make this ambiguous word more concrete.
So, what is happiness?
If you think of happiness in the philosophical sense of living the good life, then you just have to have more good days than bad and you’re set. If someone, who hasn’t accomplished anything, wakes up most days filled with a zest for the day, for life, then I’d say they’re happy. No matter how little they’ve accomplished. A good number of young adults, some in love, wake up exactly like this, and an even greater number of toddlers do. (The nerve of those little rascals! Waking up to play (to play!) instead of trying to accomplish something of merit.)
If you think of happiness as Continue Reading →
The Song The Devil Would Have On His Devil Playlist
Though I’m a non-believer and all-that, if Lucifer existed I think his general mood would be one of spite with an underlying layer of confusion. I figure, when you’re kicked out of paradise by someone you love your first couple moods include all the many states of confusion, sadness, and heartbreak; and then you’d slowly descend into that revengeful sort of hatred called spite. But underneath that spite you’d still have a couple unanswered questions rattling around in your noggin, like “Is this great and supposed good being who kicked me out of Heaven just like that actually good?”
And that question would rattle and rattle till’ Continue Reading →
The Most Difficult Thing To Accept About Life
It’s very very very difficult for me to accept the slow (yet quickened) death of innocence and its self-perpetuating nature.
Hurt people hurt people, and the impossibility of ending that cycle defeats me.
There’s nothing as hurtful as realizing that a little boy playing on a jungle-gym with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen has a father who beats him every day, and that he in turn will beat people back. Nothing as shattering as Continue Reading →
If I Were A World Famous Painting
Nighthawks, a 1942 painting by American realist painter Edward Hopper.
I am both all the characters and settings in Nighthawks. I am constantly switching from being the dark and mysterious observer watching people interact, to the stooping man who deems it his job to serve, to the Clyde-like male figure with a Bonnie-like lady in red by his side, to being the lady who finds herself contrasting the people around her thanks to her attire and the fact that she’s either a yang in a yin, or a yin in a yang dominated environment (depending on the how you perceive the situation). And all these characters, these nightowls, these parts of the ensemble that is I, are ones which I switch between whenever I’m in a social and semi-light mood that reflects my environment, yet the majority of my moods are of a dark and consuming calmness that hints of the approaching night.
linear notes on a celebrated death
when lovers die
should we hold plays?
with commotion in the wings?
ex-lovers complaining
they didn’t get enough time
to walk the stage
ex-lovers complaining
at least they got
to walk the stage
ex-lovers proclaiming
don’t anyone dare complain
about walking the stage
that fucker made me a cripple
or should we hold wakes?
and stop ruffling the drapes
because though the silence is immense
complaining can’t bring what’s dead back
hot and bothered by these wet dreams
i’m an onion beneath an iceberg
globally melting (bizarre
i too wonder what i’m doing here)
i’m tearfully waiting, hoping
you swim down and open these layers
i’m dreaming about the softness of your hands
of you touching me
here’s to hoping you can breathe underwater