Categories
writing

Kazakhstan

The first time I saw pictures of the earth,
I was deeply moved,
there was our little green-blue planet all alone in space.
it reminds me strangely of an abandoned mutt..
you know the type that only gnaws gently at it’s fleas
to make them move to greener pastures.
in the end, it’s us and the earth, all we have is each other.

Categories
writing

Blow

a shot of whiskey, a little more wine please..
I could not argue with a scorpion being a scorpion.
the way they all cling to their mother when young.
nature has resigned itself to being a monster.
just as a zebra has to be able to run within minutes of being born,
scorpions have to learn to sting.

I used to think they had doubts about their existence in their adolesence,
as I’d happen to see them crawling on the wood floors at night
with their stingers dragging along the ground,
scratching at nothing like an LP spinning with no record to play.

I watched them from the safety of my bed.
I’d rap the ground with my knuckles,
and they’d come back to their sense of being.
the tail always hooked like the letter C,
focused and motionless as the pandinus imperator moved along it’s tracks like a tank.

I could not argue with a scorpion being a scorpion,
any more than it can argue with me being me.
we were natural born enemies,
though we don’t depend on each other for sustinence
all that means then is that neither of us is afforded a natural advantage over the other.
the elephant is not scared of the mouse, nor the flea of the dog.

I steel myself and bring down my foot with a heavy stomp.
the carapace gives way with ease.
all that’s left before I know it is that little flailing tail.
swinging wildly to find it’s mark as it hits itself with it’s own sweet death.
I could not argue with a scorpion being a scorpion, as it hits me.

Categories
writing

Combustion Engine

for a part of my life, i believed that, we only use 5, maybe 10% of our brains..

in our whole lifetime, that was it.. wow i thought..
there has to be more to life than a lifetime if so much of it goes unused.
i wondered what using even 25% would get me..
i always thought, for you to become super smart, you had to live in your mind in a way..
you had to constantly be thinking
either way, i found out, in an article in popular science it’s a myth…
human brains are usually running at full throttle.
that conjures images of a jet engine to me and a captain stalling for time, saying
 if you look out the window, that thing burns god knows how many gallons of fuel a second..
behemoth is the word i learned for it..
anyway, so i had to imagine the human mind like a jet engine now..
something i wrote of great meaning to me, of the possibilities i’d imagined in myself.. quite possibly might not be plausible.

take a point. on yourself. it is easiest to start at a fingertip. then travel out. as far as you can. without looking up. the hardest is to get past our planet’s atmosphere. then you can place planets stars solar systems galaxies where ever you might like. and when you do inevitably come to an end. of the six percent of you(you are). you will know where you are.
so i don’t like to cede that i might be wrong on this.. i would like to think it proves the scientists wrong.
the point to me is, what does reading all this, if you do, whenever you wake up, do to you?
i suppose i should have asked permission before trying to influence someone with my silly words, but then i might not see the change.

heh, sometimes i feel like a dinosaur.
i have met no more of me around.

Categories
writing

Mouse

monsters mouths are always agape in light.
why should we believe in them.
we are the only things that fear.

you never get tired of watching a hippo open it’s mouth.
at night i keep having these dreams that you call me..
you call me from a bus stop in albuquerque
a diner in tennessee a monastery in sri lanka
and all you say is you want to come home…
and it’s late and night, at it seems i can always
drive to wherever i have to go then and there
you get in the car, and fall asleep as i drive back
breathing like a mouse in a blanket
and i get home after hours and hours, all in the dark of night
and carry you in and drop you in bed, fall asleep
and wake up then, what seems like minutes after.. maybe because
you dream in the last minutes of sleep or
because it was really so near daybreak.
i don’t know.. it just feels like i haven’t been getting much sleep lately.

monsters mouths are always agape in light.
i wish i didn’t have to use that word.

Categories
writing

Burning Man

it’s felt like a bothersome existence.

the image of a man on fire is digitized.
it is on tv, it is not really happening.
he is surrounded by cool blue hues
from the news station graphics surrounding,
and scrolling on about other happenings.
he is not on fire, he is really drowning.

and the light cast out of the box is filling.

you must not damage yourself beyond repair.
dissapointing.

Categories
writing

Businessmen

i had bad dreams, people tying me up in rickety wood chairs
their faces could clearly be seen, unshaven from days spent
perfecting the idea. they pulled out a syringe and injected me
with cocaine for days.  it’s time to have some fun, son!
they later let me loose once they knew i was addicted.
he gave me his business card, which he’d had made as a lark,
number scribbled in blue pen, since it changed frequently,
but in typeface it read, imports/exports, wholesale to the public welcome

Categories
writing

Good dog.

a bit about gadget and his Jack russell terrier

I used to have a friend with a Jack Russell,
he was an awesome ass dog..
his name was sparky, and his owner would say,
sparky get the wrench!
and off sparky would go weaving through the house
zoom straight through to the garage and bring one back..

sparky get a beer!
though, of course, sometimes he’d get tea,
but you know you can’t be picky
when he can’t read the label..
and well they were always hot
cause he had to leave them out for the trick..

sparky get in the car!
and I’d have gotten away with him too
if the owner wouldn’t have asked him
to get him some tp while he was in the bathroom..
that was the end of that friendship unfortunately..

but I swear I’m reformed these days.

Categories
writing

Manet

I’d read that old story about a lady with two dogs
and about how she’d been confined to a wheelchair
and forgotten for many years..
I think they were both mutts but loved with all her heart
you know when people say things like,
they were the only reason I ventured out anymore
bought them big bags of dog food, rested em on her useless legs
and wheeled herself back from the supermarket
I had em since they were little pups
and back then these used to last em months,
now I come back sometimes twice a week she said in her meek voice
I even get a whole chicken for myself to eat
but of course I end up sharing with my boys too

for some reason I wanted to think they were Siberian huskies
you know those clear blue striking eyes the type they say
don’t just look into you but through you
i think that’s just because we had one once ourselves
but that’s probably not what they were


at some point manet got to be a little too old for her trip
arthritis in the joints you know, and she went about cleaning
out the cupboards till those too were bare
and they whined and they begged at her feet
though it made none of their growling stomachs any better
see humans always find the silver lining
in cartoons they start to imagine you like a hotdog with a bun
but the dogs didn’t have that type of imagination

boys will be boys, she said petting their deep black fur
as they licked her lower limbs clean
when the authorities found her cause of the stench weeks later
the dogs had to be put down because they couldn’t get close enough
to check on her, though they probably knew she was dead.

they growled and barked defending her as theyd always done.

Categories
writing

Market

Shape the future, rather than fight the past,
Everyone had some sort of quote that had a message
That was vague enough to say something you dont
Have to think too hard about.

The cold truth about snowball theories
Is that one butterfly flapping its wings
Doesnt mean any sort of hurricane is a comin’
When all the other ones are doing the same thing
It all just sort of happens sometimes,

A girl is picking weeds in a field,
Caressly here and there just grabbing at the things
Pulling and twisting, till she hears that satisfying snap
And there is that futility that these things will grow back
No matter what, though this never clicks in your head
Click? What makes a click? Its times like these that you’d be amazed
How lightning fast your mind thinks, if it werent for what it thought
A landmine just armed, your next steps are very important.

The girl lowers herself onto the dirt, it is soft and loose,
She sits and grounds it into her bottom,
stretching out the toes of the foot that is free
one, two, three
it is what it feels like when your leg has fallen asleep.

Categories
Uncategorized

Eleven

When life imitates art
Should we assume there is no artist?