Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
mi ritrovai per una selva oscura
ché la via diritta era smarrita.
In the middle of our life's walk
I found myself in a dark wood
for the straight road was lost.
Dante
Friday, April 2, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Words
Her body didnt feel like concentrating, it was stuck in her throat. Conversation were following her around like a pathetic cough, filled with cigarette smoke. Swarming in word pollution, she is carried over the bridge and spread all over the terrain of vast places and faces...
Quiet and mellow thanks to the hit after hit. She is indifferent.
Feels at times tongue tied so its best to keep silent.
Quiet and mellow thanks to the hit after hit. She is indifferent.
Feels at times tongue tied so its best to keep silent.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Jumping part 2
This is a farewell to Ms. Jane. The whore hanging
on my back. The sea winds never sung so loudly before,
with my ears plugged of her calls.
The world has never been so bright before, but
was still tinted with bloodshot vision.
The demon didn't have wings, so she crawled instead on ashy
elbows. And laid her head on my pubes. I was blind, my eyes are wide the fuck open now. Watching, as she jumps from bed to bed and I made sure to step out of the way so she would’t fall on my dick.
No babies because her thin tubes, were tight tied
around her fucking neck, and the lack of oxygen must be driving her mind
away from sanity, if she think she could still be mine.
I say think again Ms. Jane
on my back. The sea winds never sung so loudly before,
with my ears plugged of her calls.
The world has never been so bright before, but
was still tinted with bloodshot vision.
The demon didn't have wings, so she crawled instead on ashy
elbows. And laid her head on my pubes. I was blind, my eyes are wide the fuck open now. Watching, as she jumps from bed to bed and I made sure to step out of the way so she would’t fall on my dick.
No babies because her thin tubes, were tight tied
around her fucking neck, and the lack of oxygen must be driving her mind
away from sanity, if she think she could still be mine.
I say think again Ms. Jane
Just me, part 1
She is just me. A girl who drinks tap water from a jug by her bed, just so she didnt have to lift her head and venture into the bathroom to sip from the faucet. Sticky notes and unreadable prose lines
the walls inside and outside her dwelling place. Because she is too scared to go and let the sun shine on her face. She likes it better in the dark. Where no one can see that she is just a girl who is in denial of the love that epically fails over and over...for the right reasons. But she is stubborn.
She begs her mother to take back as her daughter because she didnt want to be a women. Because she was frighten and hurt and she didnt want to be a grown up anymore. Too care less and feel less, when it comes to living the good life she is poor.
Over coming her shyness years ago but she cant let go the thoughts of what their thoughts were about her. Sometimes she forgets about me, and forget that it is not her but me they see.
Just me.
the walls inside and outside her dwelling place. Because she is too scared to go and let the sun shine on her face. She likes it better in the dark. Where no one can see that she is just a girl who is in denial of the love that epically fails over and over...for the right reasons. But she is stubborn.
She begs her mother to take back as her daughter because she didnt want to be a women. Because she was frighten and hurt and she didnt want to be a grown up anymore. Too care less and feel less, when it comes to living the good life she is poor.
Over coming her shyness years ago but she cant let go the thoughts of what their thoughts were about her. Sometimes she forgets about me, and forget that it is not her but me they see.
Just me.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Laws of Force
Desire to the third power is life.
With no sure punishment for
sin, all is corruptable.
Force is the square root
of all evil. Causing
action to reaction to never equal
freedom!
With no sure punishment for
sin, all is corruptable.
Force is the square root
of all evil. Causing
action to reaction to never equal
freedom!
Jumping
This is farewell to the her that is holding me back. The winds never sung so loud before. The world never been so bright, still tinted red because of the bloodshot vision.
Naughty demons didnt have wings. So obvious now it being the reason she fell the first time. She was blind then but her eyes were wide the fuck open now.
Expecting the drop changes history, because she has glided down around the block a couple times.
Remember no surprises.
Naughty demons didnt have wings. So obvious now it being the reason she fell the first time. She was blind then but her eyes were wide the fuck open now.
Expecting the drop changes history, because she has glided down around the block a couple times.
Remember no surprises.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Broken windows
It was another accident
Something she couldnt quiet comprehend,
With the shade stretch pass her eyes
Blinding from the world her bends and cries
Giving up understanding
The cracks in life she often felt
love them but then love them not
As they leak in more sunlight
Something she couldnt quiet comprehend,
With the shade stretch pass her eyes
Blinding from the world her bends and cries
Giving up understanding
The cracks in life she often felt
love them but then love them not
As they leak in more sunlight
Friday, March 26, 2010
verb equals pain
Verb equals pain.
Just as the water flow out her body
across the bridge and down the faucet equates to her turning away
from the subject reflected across from her
So disgusted.
At a one person party that everyone is invited to. Celebrating life
in the deep depths of the bathroom. The verb
rising and overflows.
Remembering verb equals pain and pain
equals life which is now pouring
down the drain faster than the pouring water rise.
Holding her breath to the music no one can hear.
Because no one showed.
Because life equates to no longer needing to be surprised
Just as the water flow out her body
across the bridge and down the faucet equates to her turning away
from the subject reflected across from her
So disgusted.
At a one person party that everyone is invited to. Celebrating life
in the deep depths of the bathroom. The verb
rising and overflows.
Remembering verb equals pain and pain
equals life which is now pouring
down the drain faster than the pouring water rise.
Holding her breath to the music no one can hear.
Because no one showed.
Because life equates to no longer needing to be surprised
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Drip drops
Sometimes love is not magical.
Sometimes it melts,
just as her skin drips,
just as her heart drips,
just as swift tears keeps running
for days and days.
Seasons passing by.
New windows are being opened to change.
And yet her body is feeling so cold.
Thank God for new flesh and new faces.
We make life so complicated
just by standing in the rain.
Wishing for God to do the work for us.
To please wash away the pain.
But God is not listening.
Nor is he taking a piss.
She is stepping out of herself and
taking at good look at how pathetic, she once felt.
Now aware that love is not magical.
Some times it just melts.
And keep melting till there is nothing left but the rain.
Sometimes it melts,
just as her skin drips,
just as her heart drips,
just as swift tears keeps running
for days and days.
Seasons passing by.
New windows are being opened to change.
And yet her body is feeling so cold.
Thank God for new flesh and new faces.
We make life so complicated
just by standing in the rain.
Wishing for God to do the work for us.
To please wash away the pain.
But God is not listening.
Nor is he taking a piss.
She is stepping out of herself and
taking at good look at how pathetic, she once felt.
Now aware that love is not magical.
Some times it just melts.
And keep melting till there is nothing left but the rain.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
looking over the edge
Stuck with a jailbird brother and an out of reach lover. Runaway father with a suicidal mother. Such tragic combinations- what does that say about the daughter? A shower to clean off the dirt on her face, peeling back the dead skin on finger tips to reveal yet another maze of problems.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
9:58 pm
Weeds and flowers grown from the ground, simultaneously it creeps up her legs. Dangerous vines wrapping around her two worlds. Choking on her identities, trying mesh her inner-self, with her outer. The feeling is nice as it tickles up her thighs, stroking her stomache, and into her heart it twirls.
But...
Looking at her. Is she being fooled? That isn't what she wants. The Social identity is untouchable and mysterious. A memory one can never quiet recall to the forefront of the mind, is fueled to be remembered by the body. Dangerous. But the dreams still counts it as a feel good incorporation.
Look at me
Her body screamed, pay attention to me! Know who she is. All they heard was told through the grapevine. And its not enough. A pretty distant shell, with a flowery flirtatious nature. All she wants is not to hurt anymore. But then again she likes the thrones. A misinterpret sign of the mind.
What do they know about her? Anything? Nothing really it seems. Because they cant tell if they are getting the flower or the weeds.
But...
Looking at her. Is she being fooled? That isn't what she wants. The Social identity is untouchable and mysterious. A memory one can never quiet recall to the forefront of the mind, is fueled to be remembered by the body. Dangerous. But the dreams still counts it as a feel good incorporation.
Look at me
Her body screamed, pay attention to me! Know who she is. All they heard was told through the grapevine. And its not enough. A pretty distant shell, with a flowery flirtatious nature. All she wants is not to hurt anymore. But then again she likes the thrones. A misinterpret sign of the mind.
What do they know about her? Anything? Nothing really it seems. Because they cant tell if they are getting the flower or the weeds.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Life Guard Father
She finally was able to think.
The muffled sounds of being underwater were not too distracting.
…this time
But increasing pressure pressing against her cranium
The deeper she sinks still made her ears hurt.
Is Father disappointed that she can never stay afloat like he can?
She always thought so.
To her nothing mattered but just making it into the water
Even though she hated being wet but
It has always been different for him.
With his quick strokes and determination to stay on top.
But now that she can think, she has discovered
While peer up at his back as she descends with rapid pace.
That he has always acted as the lifeguard.
As his strong warm hand pulls her back up to the surface yet again.
The muffled sounds of being underwater were not too distracting.
…this time
But increasing pressure pressing against her cranium
The deeper she sinks still made her ears hurt.
Is Father disappointed that she can never stay afloat like he can?
She always thought so.
To her nothing mattered but just making it into the water
Even though she hated being wet but
It has always been different for him.
With his quick strokes and determination to stay on top.
But now that she can think, she has discovered
While peer up at his back as she descends with rapid pace.
That he has always acted as the lifeguard.
As his strong warm hand pulls her back up to the surface yet again.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Morning
She woke up early today, before daylight savings came drizzling into her bedroom. Lying with her eyes closed and body alive with fingers cupped between her thighs.
She still thinks about her. When will too soon no longer be too soon? She has no answer for that. Just because February’s tempest days is fading quickly into the background of her mind, does not wipe away anger or desire. Not completely anyways.
These momentary relapse will be the death of her some day, she thinks as she throws her head back and cums.
She still thinks about her. When will too soon no longer be too soon? She has no answer for that. Just because February’s tempest days is fading quickly into the background of her mind, does not wipe away anger or desire. Not completely anyways.
These momentary relapse will be the death of her some day, she thinks as she throws her head back and cums.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Visitations
The day swallows up the night and the night bath inside the day. Walking on sore feet, with the time needed for rest dwindling down into brief pauses. Her mind blurred with weariness and she longed for the peaceful sleep that only comes when you die.
Chipped promises mends together slower than shatter expectation. Father came to see her today and together they strolled through already had conversations. Forgiving daughter versus bitter memories leaves a bad taste in between her teeth and jaws. I want to be by your side.
She still couldnt tell if he was once again just lying.
Chipped promises mends together slower than shatter expectation. Father came to see her today and together they strolled through already had conversations. Forgiving daughter versus bitter memories leaves a bad taste in between her teeth and jaws. I want to be by your side.
She still couldnt tell if he was once again just lying.
Buying happiness
Unable to see the thick black line that lies between wants verses needs. There no fleeing from the ordinary and popular world because they want to eat your soul. And you give it to them wanting only that blissful feeling of normality in return. The guarentee security is the blanket that smothers us in our sleep.
We are the regular customer of doing things out of habit. We are all victims. Playing tug of war with selling out vs. change while wading knee deep in our shallow superficiality.
We are the regular customer of doing things out of habit. We are all victims. Playing tug of war with selling out vs. change while wading knee deep in our shallow superficiality.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Winter asylums
Crazy People Poetry
Winter passed his trials on to her and listened as the sorrows of such a gift echoed off her mental walls. She hid in padded rooms and was warmed by a cozy straight jacket.
Spring was the fence that needed to be jumped in order to escape to freedom. Clusters of busy days narrowed in fast, taking her hostage but she wouldnt give in to cold demands. For she planned, when mayday come to run.
But she ran, that night instead.
Ripped skin hung off barbed wires and blood trailed down criss-cross metal. She ignored the red on her hands and blistered on her feet. She ran and ran and kept on running. Till she died of hypothermia.
Winter passed his trials on to her and listened as the sorrows of such a gift echoed off her mental walls. She hid in padded rooms and was warmed by a cozy straight jacket.
Spring was the fence that needed to be jumped in order to escape to freedom. Clusters of busy days narrowed in fast, taking her hostage but she wouldnt give in to cold demands. For she planned, when mayday come to run.
But she ran, that night instead.
Ripped skin hung off barbed wires and blood trailed down criss-cross metal. She ignored the red on her hands and blistered on her feet. She ran and ran and kept on running. Till she died of hypothermia.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Blossom at the End of the Body
Leaving this world must be the flower,
its three violet faces turned to the air — a man can't look
at a flower without knowing he's dying.
That's the beauty. Parting must be this little
chance, with its stem and flutter. It's no god
and it's no force and our grief is a rock, a clod,
a punk of earth. Truth is,
what we will miss most
isn't her or him or mother or child but
the particular blue at the side of the field,
the heart's pure botany, for
the body is a science. And there is no
substitute for thing. Not love, not happiness,
not faith. But flower. But flower. But flower.
Beckian Fritz Goldberg
its three violet faces turned to the air — a man can't look
at a flower without knowing he's dying.
That's the beauty. Parting must be this little
chance, with its stem and flutter. It's no god
and it's no force and our grief is a rock, a clod,
a punk of earth. Truth is,
what we will miss most
isn't her or him or mother or child but
the particular blue at the side of the field,
the heart's pure botany, for
the body is a science. And there is no
substitute for thing. Not love, not happiness,
not faith. But flower. But flower. But flower.
Beckian Fritz Goldberg