Wednesday, February 24, 2010

in the coffee shop today

I'm trading looks with someone near me, a thousand lifetimes away,
Women sit and talk about their views on books, their rehearsals pay off,
The yellow haired server behind the counter, smiles as she talks to a friend,
--Does coffee taste cooler when its served by black fingernail-ed servers?
---Coffee flavored with sugar packets of non-conformity,
Newcomers lathered in noise, negotiate themselves through thick slices of Silence,
A superdouche talking loud with a blue dot in his ear...doesn't stay long,
--We all know where he's going and why its important,
---I hope, for a moment, he trips on a magazine someone has left on the flour,
I drink my aging coffee, and turn the page of a book not yet purchased,
--My young and naive cup of coffee, freely giving its warmth into the air,
---I look deeper and it is me.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

The logs on the shelves

The logs on the shelves of my mind, do what they please,
They flip through themselves, moving backwards in time,
Shuffling, bleeding together, they mingle,
I see the breaking light, between the slotted captions at high speeds.

Replaying nights at play, and filthy plays at night, they wonder,
I remember her eyes, our smiles and what it would take to have her,
But the logs are but fragments of memory, from a scene viewed upside down.
Filtered through notion-ed senses, my minds eye will see what it can.
-what its offered-

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

A break up

"Relax I'm different." I said to her eyes. To her malnourished soul.
Purging regrets, misfortunes, and awkward moments from our minds we stand tall and attenuate.

"Don't say that," she says, looking-shifting away.
Boys have taught her not to love, the game of sex, and how to will yourself towards numbness-calling it freedom; calling it strength.

"Ourselves, alone, with nothing but the past, will remain halved." I say, as my hand guides her back to me. I believe the words, but that's not what should have been said. corny bullshit.


"Why are you going," I say. She gracefully deflects my hand away.
A beautiful scene to view as the leading matriarch of rejection, play her tunes.

"To live...good bye." She will leave in a week. I have a whole week.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Adventurous: –adjective
1. inclined or willing to engage in adventures; enjoying adventures.

2. full of risk; requiring courage; hazardous: an adventurous undertaking.

Dumb-ass: -noun
1. everyone knows what this is.

The difference between the two? About an inch and a half.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

I woke up bored yesterday. seeing all there is to see in life through my eyes-through boxes of media. the difference between staying in bed and walking the streets alluded me. until i read this passage in, Dave Eggers's What is the What,

"On the morning of the the fourth day, I woke to find a boy named Jok Deng peeing on me. He was among the first boys to lose his head in the desert. The heat was too strong and we had not eaten for three days."

the power of perspective is alarming at best. having only a few outlets to view the world, our fields of vision buffer. only allowing sections of pixels at a time.

it may or not be weird to read such a horrific experience from a narrative, and feel better. in a modern culturally narcissistic society-i guess-it isn't weird.

the type of sun that rises between our shades every morning, in detailed light, will eventually feed us in the modern world. with our bellies full and cuticles clipped, we live like kings and queens.

and flags of honor we so proudly, and dramatically thrust into piles of silly hardship-claiming triumph-amount to little when someone else is being peed on.

but life is subjective...i guess.