YOU HAVE A COLLAPSE

MEAT POETS II

MEAT POETS

DOWN FOR YOU IS UP

The Kills - Pioneer Sessions - Covering VU's Pale Blue Eyes

PUNK ROCK ROYALTY

From The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry, Edited by Alan Kaufman.

"They will ruin rock and roll and strangle everything we love about it."

Don't let those swill merchants rewrite you. 

Get it in a sling boy, get it in a sling.

I've been listening to this song repeatedly over the past three days while driving up Pacific Coast Highway towards Long Beach. Something about this jam triggers the dopamine in my brain and shoots me up."No one knows how your monkey goes/ No one knows how your monkey goes." It's probably one of the only happy-go-fucking-lucky songs I can jive to painlessly. It spits out a sense of urgent euphoria while disallowing one to forget the dystopia that still surrounds. It's a real treat for people like me who think too much - people who want to feel pleasure but don't want to completely dismiss from their minds the trouble of This Place. We can't let the difficulty of this irritable mess of a world go with a smile or a forgery of positivism. No, we just have to turn the radio up loud enough so that our minds can blend in with the upbeat charisma of bands like Clinic. Anyway, this is a brief but easy release for the intellectuals. Enjoy. Repeat.

BIG EXIT/ ENTRANCE

a heavy night of accomplishing my dreams is just around the corner.
come sunrise tomorrow, i'll be fixated on the night, waiting to howl at you all.

and then there will be a new beginning to the end.

Old Poems

I found this today. It's something I have written. It is dated June 6, 2008.

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Afterthought I

Spread eye wandering through clouds and trees
A blanket of color washing over me
A serpent in my hair,
A poison in my brains,
The fear spread out all over me.

The inescapable truth
Dead center
In the middle of my stare
The black TV on the maple dresser against the blank white wall

Black box of distyopia,
America’s reality.

Our empire is falling down
Down, down.
Our empire is falling down.


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Afterthought I applies to today: I have known all along how evil and sick and wasteful existence is. And today I feel the towers of life crumbling down and falling onto me, suffocating and smashing my bones with every ounce of their heavy heavy heavy weight. I feel like I could evaporate today. I could just become nothing. I could live in a shell or my head. And no one would understand.


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And then I also found this poem. Dated January 31, 2008...


Untitled


liar
in my right eye
like a rat chewing a hole through my walls

i feel so seedy here
i feel classless decay

kick me in the teeth when i get home
it's the nightly routine
i come back from a day of learning
trapped between here and there
it seems this house is where i belong
but only on the papers
only for the mail man to deliver to this address

Lung Leg in "Submit to Me Now"

Good Plain Old-Fashioned Fucked!

Sister of the Moon

Eyes of the centuries

Worn out by holy wars

And years of mental disease

Waived by geldreligion institutions

Who summon the Jews and the gays to blame,

Whose lies are no transgression,

And whose heads are fatly fed

See straight up into the sky

Asking why?

Assuming God.

Assuming some myth to be so real it bleeds.

But I

look deep into the Earth

and it is carbon.

I swallow the material moon

And the sympathetic air,

All conceived in test tubes.

Science, my obvious church

Is imperishable, proven, and disastrously

Pagan.

Science is

No house of God,

No prayer covenant,

No method of payment for the Vatican bank.

Science is truth

And such is only a lie

To the century eyes

Blind as a desert night. 

VELVET VEINS LIVE! LIVE! LIVE!

you wouldn't let an animal die in the hot street in pain and agony

It’s the dawn of subversion for me everyday.

How can I fight the tide this hour?

What’s the right answer?

I’d like to re-define it.

It gets to be so hard.

It gets to be an open wound.

I suffer from a loss of blood

and a light head.

But the spell is drawn with fine buzzing crystal lines and

somewhere among the dizziness

I find it –

I pull the black from the gray

And I find it –

My insides, my floating guts, 

painted bright red

Alive with now.

It gets to be so hard, I know,

and I start to sweat after a while,

crawling through the thicket of viscera.

But I get to find it,

hallowing that hot prize,

and I'm keeping some kind of record.

(background voices talking are saying, "you know they're dying. i know they're dying. everybody knows they're dying. people start to get weird.")