My dear do you remember the ever blooming flowers,
the fields and the hours spent strolling under the cascades of clear water reflecting the summer sun,
before the sneaky one?
Do you remember the smell of the un-thorned rose
and the elegance of the birds prose, the enchantment when morning arrived with blessed song,
before our present wrong?
My dear have you forgotten your friends
Do you think we can make amends, so that we can again dance with the ones of fur
Like we once were?
Do you remember?
((((((this was supposed to be another in the adam and eve series... i was gonna keep adding but never got around to it. never finished the series either, muses are cruel monkeys))))))
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Giving (fall 2006)
So my brother split open, set asunder, with mock expression of wonder so still and frozen on thy face
did you even see the car coming? Did you flee at the sight?
Were you standing or running?Was the snaking path, black top, that set habitat from habitat, the black river a death trap instead of the spring of life, abounding and rife,
with machines likes knives, that cut through you…
did you wonder? Why brother after brother, sister and sister
go away and are missed, are you leaving
us this way, as well?
Does streaming light, at high speeds, at night, really hypnotize you just right? Or do you give effort to protecting by letting, just one slaughter, one martyr, give cause to us all, hoping one day the traffic will sway, decay away, like your body your gift, your warmth and your presence, which returns as the essence is reborn and replenishes, the scavenging forms, of your brethren.
((((((I wrote this in the car mainly, and then again later typed it out... uh i was driving and kept seeing deer all splattered, and wondered why that happens, and wondered if there was something to be learned from it, besides drive slower and be aware))))))))
did you even see the car coming? Did you flee at the sight?
Were you standing or running?Was the snaking path, black top, that set habitat from habitat, the black river a death trap instead of the spring of life, abounding and rife,
with machines likes knives, that cut through you…
did you wonder? Why brother after brother, sister and sister
go away and are missed, are you leaving
us this way, as well?
Does streaming light, at high speeds, at night, really hypnotize you just right? Or do you give effort to protecting by letting, just one slaughter, one martyr, give cause to us all, hoping one day the traffic will sway, decay away, like your body your gift, your warmth and your presence, which returns as the essence is reborn and replenishes, the scavenging forms, of your brethren.
((((((I wrote this in the car mainly, and then again later typed it out... uh i was driving and kept seeing deer all splattered, and wondered why that happens, and wondered if there was something to be learned from it, besides drive slower and be aware))))))))
Monday, August 21, 2006
Peace (august 2006)
Everyone has the right to peace
But I hear bullets cease to cease
And their numbers increase
Each day to release
more violence
Why are we silenced?
When its been made certain
Like light decreases with curtains
Violence begets violence - and hurtin
There is not “one” less deserving
For throughout all the ages
In all evolutionary stages
No matter the trends or rages
With abacus, calculators, coloring pages
In palace, hut or cages
In scrolls books and pages
You’ll find Gods, prophets and sages
Proclaiming the necessity and wisdom of peace
((((((((Just to be sure you knew.. shits fucked up and it aint right)))))
But I hear bullets cease to cease
And their numbers increase
Each day to release
more violence
Why are we silenced?
When its been made certain
Like light decreases with curtains
Violence begets violence - and hurtin
There is not “one” less deserving
For throughout all the ages
In all evolutionary stages
No matter the trends or rages
With abacus, calculators, coloring pages
In palace, hut or cages
In scrolls books and pages
You’ll find Gods, prophets and sages
Proclaiming the necessity and wisdom of peace
((((((((Just to be sure you knew.. shits fucked up and it aint right)))))
shades (summer 1999)
So I put on these shades
And watch the world die
See the roof cave in
And ignore the cries
I see babies starve to death
And all I do is sigh,
And perhaps say goodbye
Cuz I put on these shades
So I put on these shades
And cry all these tears
Behind these dark safety glasses
I see real life fears
I see things I cant stand to believe
And so I don’t
But when I look in to a mirror
I cry
Because I don’t have shades
So I put on these shades
I see a child with holes in his shoes
I see so much pain
I cant stand to
So I look away to safety
Yet still I lose
And so I choose
To turn around without shades.
((((((this was a song I sang out loud while writing it... crying. We were at a school in Tanzania, a dirt field with shards of glass, a classroom without desks or even walls or a ceiling (the broken pieces of which were used to sit on, or write on)
I was in a pissed off crabby mood, and refused to see. But life hits you hard when you feeling stubborn, and that little kid was just staring, not able to say anything, hoping for a pen or a piece of candy. we can try to ignore it, but its there and we know. Life is too important to be hiding from, too many people are suffering to not say anything. --so says me now and at 15 crying in the back of a van. The first time I performed this i think i cried throughout the whole thing, i prefaced it enough so people knew what i was talking about, and i think i have always shook, but im pretty sure it was something different then.))))
And watch the world die
See the roof cave in
And ignore the cries
I see babies starve to death
And all I do is sigh,
And perhaps say goodbye
Cuz I put on these shades
So I put on these shades
And cry all these tears
Behind these dark safety glasses
I see real life fears
I see things I cant stand to believe
And so I don’t
But when I look in to a mirror
I cry
Because I don’t have shades
So I put on these shades
I see a child with holes in his shoes
I see so much pain
I cant stand to
So I look away to safety
Yet still I lose
And so I choose
To turn around without shades.
((((((this was a song I sang out loud while writing it... crying. We were at a school in Tanzania, a dirt field with shards of glass, a classroom without desks or even walls or a ceiling (the broken pieces of which were used to sit on, or write on)
I was in a pissed off crabby mood, and refused to see. But life hits you hard when you feeling stubborn, and that little kid was just staring, not able to say anything, hoping for a pen or a piece of candy. we can try to ignore it, but its there and we know. Life is too important to be hiding from, too many people are suffering to not say anything. --so says me now and at 15 crying in the back of a van. The first time I performed this i think i cried throughout the whole thing, i prefaced it enough so people knew what i was talking about, and i think i have always shook, but im pretty sure it was something different then.))))
A kidnapping and face slapping (summer 2006)
I wish this cameraman
would turn his lens on you
Push through
The famous worldliness
And external ambitions of honest good.
To see through the smoke screen
Fields of green
That seem to turn childcare to child’s play
And navigate through
the clouds of magic dust
display your tragic lust
the not so mild ways.
But how can I judge?
In red carpet awards of Nobel human help, you wrap yourself
Against that wall of publicity, tenderness, civil servant-ness
can off hand rumors bare to even slightly crack?
The flack of former friends means nothing when it contends,
And “ex –loves” -- well you didn’t love -- so when it ends,
The scarring is their own fault.
I wonder if your tourniquet
is wrapped so tightly around your neck
That you cant speak, let alone breathe,
conceived
a plan to save yourself
each action “for the good”
like a robin hood, but the story stands slightly altered
as you give the riches to the poor
and then rob them some more
plundering spirits
on the other side of bedroom doors
would turn his lens on you
Push through
The famous worldliness
And external ambitions of honest good.
To see through the smoke screen
Fields of green
That seem to turn childcare to child’s play
And navigate through
the clouds of magic dust
display your tragic lust
the not so mild ways.
But how can I judge?
In red carpet awards of Nobel human help, you wrap yourself
Against that wall of publicity, tenderness, civil servant-ness
can off hand rumors bare to even slightly crack?
The flack of former friends means nothing when it contends,
And “ex –loves” -- well you didn’t love -- so when it ends,
The scarring is their own fault.
I wonder if your tourniquet
is wrapped so tightly around your neck
That you cant speak, let alone breathe,
conceived
a plan to save yourself
each action “for the good”
like a robin hood, but the story stands slightly altered
as you give the riches to the poor
and then rob them some more
plundering spirits
on the other side of bedroom doors
American Dream (August 2006)
The American Dream
Got me a big screen TV
So I can watch my soaps and
Sitcoms , sit calmly by while
Others are denied such simple pleasures
The American dream
Got me my lazy boy recliner
I cant think up a better definer
The American dream
Got me this pool filled
With chlorine
Serene scenes attempt
To wash my guilt clean.
((((just sitting up one night or something, started rhyming in my head and writing it out.... I had listened to some people spewing garbage on the american dream on fox news radio.... I guess my thoughts on the american dream is that its selfish in a way, and also that it has gone from something that might have been noble at one point(though a lot of hypocrisy would have to be allowed) to being something more like content and apathetic. I often hear of former millionares back in the day who helped establish things like libraries on their death beds, but now more and more even the rich are robbing the poor again and again. no handouts or step ups.
even the shit about working hard, well maybe we are already working too hard, maybe our goals shouldnt be material driven. i think stronger communities and such would be more worthy a cause. There could even be nationalism based on something real, a community of support of love, rather than a country who's pride comes in how many big ass cars they drive. we will figure it out, hopefully before its too late)))
Got me a big screen TV
So I can watch my soaps and
Sitcoms , sit calmly by while
Others are denied such simple pleasures
The American dream
Got me my lazy boy recliner
I cant think up a better definer
The American dream
Got me this pool filled
With chlorine
Serene scenes attempt
To wash my guilt clean.
((((just sitting up one night or something, started rhyming in my head and writing it out.... I had listened to some people spewing garbage on the american dream on fox news radio.... I guess my thoughts on the american dream is that its selfish in a way, and also that it has gone from something that might have been noble at one point(though a lot of hypocrisy would have to be allowed) to being something more like content and apathetic. I often hear of former millionares back in the day who helped establish things like libraries on their death beds, but now more and more even the rich are robbing the poor again and again. no handouts or step ups.
even the shit about working hard, well maybe we are already working too hard, maybe our goals shouldnt be material driven. i think stronger communities and such would be more worthy a cause. There could even be nationalism based on something real, a community of support of love, rather than a country who's pride comes in how many big ass cars they drive. we will figure it out, hopefully before its too late)))
Riots (2001)
This chaotic uprising
The affects of downsizing
And cops brutalizing -their citizens
Politicians analyzing
The acts
Immortalizing
But songs still tributizing –the anarchy
(((((Im fairly sure I wrote this, and "power" in poetry club, thinking about random shit, trying to impress my heros, turning up like an idiot... anyway im almost sure this poem is about sublime's song "april 29, 1992" and other such events. )))))
The affects of downsizing
And cops brutalizing -their citizens
Politicians analyzing
The acts
Immortalizing
But songs still tributizing –the anarchy
(((((Im fairly sure I wrote this, and "power" in poetry club, thinking about random shit, trying to impress my heros, turning up like an idiot... anyway im almost sure this poem is about sublime's song "april 29, 1992" and other such events. )))))
Power (2001)
Power
The uncontrolled
the sweet and the sour
rocks in to bricks
bricks in to towers
breaking limbs
until the people decide to cower
I know a place where power comes in the amount of cows
Not the stocks in the Dow
or the oomph in the POW!
Speaking of Pow-er how much comes in the dollar
If my time aint worth cash
Who’s chain is attached to my collar?
The uncontrolled
the sweet and the sour
rocks in to bricks
bricks in to towers
breaking limbs
until the people decide to cower
I know a place where power comes in the amount of cows
Not the stocks in the Dow
or the oomph in the POW!
Speaking of Pow-er how much comes in the dollar
If my time aint worth cash
Who’s chain is attached to my collar?
For chris (2001)
For Chris
Tossed like a dirty shirt,(Chris)
Played out rhythm.(A repeating system that does not work!)
Passed on by our fathers’ (given up on)
Reborn children. (The same old politicians)
Shadow slave repressed,(robbed of freedom)
Told to sing songs of submission. (Told to give up)
Forgotten peace, chains stalking (its chaos in handcuffs)
denied ambition.
Sentinels on the lookout (Cops are looking)
for the next,
Silly nerd boy who feels misunderstood.
Making money to be cool,
selling drugs in the neighborhood.
((((((This was the first poem I wrote about Chris D, I think he had just gotten put in Juvie or something, we werent sure what was happening to him, and I dont think I had gotten any letters yet. I was sitting around trying to brain storm for class, but i was a rebellious little fucker who didnt want to do any of my assignment and instead wrote about what ever the fuck i was feeling.... it ended up being included with two other poems (power) and (riots) -both of which will be up in a second, and put on a picture... (maybe throw that up later)
---this is the first poem I ever wrote with a sort of more literal translation included... the spacing is all fucked up on blogger so I couldnt show that, and just put the translations in (example).))))))))))))))
Tossed like a dirty shirt,(Chris)
Played out rhythm.(A repeating system that does not work!)
Passed on by our fathers’ (given up on)
Reborn children. (The same old politicians)
Shadow slave repressed,(robbed of freedom)
Told to sing songs of submission. (Told to give up)
Forgotten peace, chains stalking (its chaos in handcuffs)
denied ambition.
Sentinels on the lookout (Cops are looking)
for the next,
Silly nerd boy who feels misunderstood.
Making money to be cool,
selling drugs in the neighborhood.
((((((This was the first poem I wrote about Chris D, I think he had just gotten put in Juvie or something, we werent sure what was happening to him, and I dont think I had gotten any letters yet. I was sitting around trying to brain storm for class, but i was a rebellious little fucker who didnt want to do any of my assignment and instead wrote about what ever the fuck i was feeling.... it ended up being included with two other poems (power) and (riots) -both of which will be up in a second, and put on a picture... (maybe throw that up later)
---this is the first poem I ever wrote with a sort of more literal translation included... the spacing is all fucked up on blogger so I couldnt show that, and just put the translations in (example).))))))))))))))
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Untitled (august 2005)
Adventure had left her, had whisked her away
in a seeming ghost town she had found her krumlov
enchanted in mountains, in prairie, in hills
life flows freely and allows her to live
and like the lions the bears the squirrels that
loudly chatter
she shines amongst the standing trees
while she works at the diner
the motel
the local general store
and like the charcters who thrill her,
she gives each person more.
((((this girl i met in a small town outside of glacier national park))))
in a seeming ghost town she had found her krumlov
enchanted in mountains, in prairie, in hills
life flows freely and allows her to live
and like the lions the bears the squirrels that
loudly chatter
she shines amongst the standing trees
while she works at the diner
the motel
the local general store
and like the charcters who thrill her,
she gives each person more.
((((this girl i met in a small town outside of glacier national park))))
Friday, May 26, 2006
Adam Adjusts and Reveals His Admiration.
Chasing everyday to find a higher purpose
Looking in cracks and crevices,
happily distracted by the latter recourse
and if she is the source, then oh what a source.
I once tasted her inner turmoil like a bad apple,
ridden with scars and bruised by times’ inequities,
did I gasp and choke and spit up, but take a second bite?
I’m glad, she offered the apple that night.
Chasing everyday to find a higher purpose
Looking at cracks and crevices
to find some discourse
on things I find beautiful and shameful
but you claim are not so self-inflicted.
Will she bite, when the flesh rips and conquer this ghastly pit,
and when she does will I like that kinky shit and can I bare it?
I feel blessed with the offer, and thankful to share it.
Chasing everyday to find a higher purpose
Looking on as cracks and crevices
change course splitting old wounds,
deepening with force, the wounds to make them worse.
Teeth of sacred indemnity,
but each bite brings forth our identity
so we hide behind the bushes cuz she asks me to
I’m glad cuz there’s nothing I’d rather do.
Chasing everyday I’ve found a higher purpose
Looking at her cracks and crevices
Captured rather happily by that blossoming source
That without force
Brought sacred flowers a teeming
And fruit bearing women new meaning
And will I accept when she offers her partnership again?
Where she leads I follow, just as its always been.
((((this was/is supposed to be the first in a series, on the adam and eve thing. I was trying to think about all the good leaving the garden did... how much more we are able to appreciate, and thus thank eve for the invite... but one of the positive/negative bi products of the apple saga is sex. good sex, painful sex, loving sex, and unloving sex... and of course it is antifeminist to call woman sex, but in thanking her we must also thank her for this gift. so a sort of pro/anti feminist stance on this one... in a way.)
Looking in cracks and crevices,
happily distracted by the latter recourse
and if she is the source, then oh what a source.
I once tasted her inner turmoil like a bad apple,
ridden with scars and bruised by times’ inequities,
did I gasp and choke and spit up, but take a second bite?
I’m glad, she offered the apple that night.
Chasing everyday to find a higher purpose
Looking at cracks and crevices
to find some discourse
on things I find beautiful and shameful
but you claim are not so self-inflicted.
Will she bite, when the flesh rips and conquer this ghastly pit,
and when she does will I like that kinky shit and can I bare it?
I feel blessed with the offer, and thankful to share it.
Chasing everyday to find a higher purpose
Looking on as cracks and crevices
change course splitting old wounds,
deepening with force, the wounds to make them worse.
Teeth of sacred indemnity,
but each bite brings forth our identity
so we hide behind the bushes cuz she asks me to
I’m glad cuz there’s nothing I’d rather do.
Chasing everyday I’ve found a higher purpose
Looking at her cracks and crevices
Captured rather happily by that blossoming source
That without force
Brought sacred flowers a teeming
And fruit bearing women new meaning
And will I accept when she offers her partnership again?
Where she leads I follow, just as its always been.
((((this was/is supposed to be the first in a series, on the adam and eve thing. I was trying to think about all the good leaving the garden did... how much more we are able to appreciate, and thus thank eve for the invite... but one of the positive/negative bi products of the apple saga is sex. good sex, painful sex, loving sex, and unloving sex... and of course it is antifeminist to call woman sex, but in thanking her we must also thank her for this gift. so a sort of pro/anti feminist stance on this one... in a way.)
Are You Jenny E
Are you Jenny E?
I see you in every skinny short haired long skirt
wearing nubile goddess
But the essence was never marred by your lack of physical presence
In shadows you leaped and jumped
panther wild
A sleek style
with subtle exclamations
Is it any wonder my mind meets you
melting through crowds on my vacations?
((((I met this chica who later became a friend, on my first trip to italia with mi amigos... that trip was good times. Anyway shes a really cool girl, i used the word "nubile" because it was the first word that came to mind, I wrote all of this in like 3 seconds on the street in krakow... which is why its no good... but anyway "nubile" apparently means sexual, and im not sure i ever thought that way about jenny though she is quite beautiful... it was more about hearing her thoughts and enjoying the adventures.. but i think its funny that i think i see her more than any of my other friends when im out walking around... maybe its just her look, maybe its the fact that i could imagine running in to her anywhere in the world i guess. anyway funnily i ran in to some cats the other week who went to a school she went to down south and they said they had heard of her but didnt know her. Basically she was always really soft and quiet (around me) but seemed to have bigger plans and thoughts than most, and a strange beautiful energy that left a nice impression.)))
I see you in every skinny short haired long skirt
wearing nubile goddess
But the essence was never marred by your lack of physical presence
In shadows you leaped and jumped
panther wild
A sleek style
with subtle exclamations
Is it any wonder my mind meets you
melting through crowds on my vacations?
((((I met this chica who later became a friend, on my first trip to italia with mi amigos... that trip was good times. Anyway shes a really cool girl, i used the word "nubile" because it was the first word that came to mind, I wrote all of this in like 3 seconds on the street in krakow... which is why its no good... but anyway "nubile" apparently means sexual, and im not sure i ever thought that way about jenny though she is quite beautiful... it was more about hearing her thoughts and enjoying the adventures.. but i think its funny that i think i see her more than any of my other friends when im out walking around... maybe its just her look, maybe its the fact that i could imagine running in to her anywhere in the world i guess. anyway funnily i ran in to some cats the other week who went to a school she went to down south and they said they had heard of her but didnt know her. Basically she was always really soft and quiet (around me) but seemed to have bigger plans and thoughts than most, and a strange beautiful energy that left a nice impression.)))
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Backpacker Conversations
I wonder about the shortness of breath, of words and places to visit with much excitement.
wonder if it will return when Im in turn with you, like the song you sent on a lonely Tuesday afternoon.
He tells me of his blues, the hues of which I've seen before in my own past and scored with such ambitious removal and disapproval and yet in circus we agree with the placard placement, for it is so important to make the statement.
(((((((talking to this guy, who left his life, and love, to travel, to find himself, and he was worried he would lose so much. constantly worried, like i was before... both feeling like we knew we were meant to be home, and yet both acknowledging that the trip was the right thing to do.)))))))))))))
wonder if it will return when Im in turn with you, like the song you sent on a lonely Tuesday afternoon.
He tells me of his blues, the hues of which I've seen before in my own past and scored with such ambitious removal and disapproval and yet in circus we agree with the placard placement, for it is so important to make the statement.
(((((((talking to this guy, who left his life, and love, to travel, to find himself, and he was worried he would lose so much. constantly worried, like i was before... both feeling like we knew we were meant to be home, and yet both acknowledging that the trip was the right thing to do.)))))))))))))
They Call Him Crazy
They call him Crazy
He pleads guilty in action, although is not actively aware of the accusation.
So his pleas to the embassy fall on ears, distracted by fears.
We've heard the rumors and humored the haste and his unkempt face.
But with disrespect overlooked the innocence in his voice,
the possibility of pain behind the strangers' choice.
But they call HIM crazy.
I've been called such before, and almost lost myself before ressurection.
Hasn't the best of us, spent time pondering our own recollection?
Wasnt our inner darkness shattered by the surrounding light?
Yet we allow him to stand alone to his astounding fright.
They call him Crazy
He looks on while faces turn to mock, mitigating another mountain.
Those fortresses built high to barricade, from the impending raid.
We're locked out from his artistic bouts, on mute to his glorious flute.
And when we joke about his unsure future, past and present,
we miss the God-sent presents that he has, and we haven't.
but they call HIM crazy.
((((((this is specifically about a man I met at a hostel, who everyone wanted to be kicked out, because he scared them, but because they didnt listen they didnt know anything about him. How much are we missing, labeling people, hiding or supressing them? what gifts could be shared with the world?)))))
He pleads guilty in action, although is not actively aware of the accusation.
So his pleas to the embassy fall on ears, distracted by fears.
We've heard the rumors and humored the haste and his unkempt face.
But with disrespect overlooked the innocence in his voice,
the possibility of pain behind the strangers' choice.
But they call HIM crazy.
I've been called such before, and almost lost myself before ressurection.
Hasn't the best of us, spent time pondering our own recollection?
Wasnt our inner darkness shattered by the surrounding light?
Yet we allow him to stand alone to his astounding fright.
They call him Crazy
He looks on while faces turn to mock, mitigating another mountain.
Those fortresses built high to barricade, from the impending raid.
We're locked out from his artistic bouts, on mute to his glorious flute.
And when we joke about his unsure future, past and present,
we miss the God-sent presents that he has, and we haven't.
but they call HIM crazy.
((((((this is specifically about a man I met at a hostel, who everyone wanted to be kicked out, because he scared them, but because they didnt listen they didnt know anything about him. How much are we missing, labeling people, hiding or supressing them? what gifts could be shared with the world?)))))
Desecration of Endearment
Wraps her gently,
Bound, entangled
pressed and pushed
to further mangle
and she gives in to his
calm and clever words,
biological manipulations
as he further enhances the situation
with lips and pleasant finger tips
stroking neck and hair
she asks if he cares
and he replies with lies
without hint of dishonesty
and later honestly
brags of his player status
as if that is what matters
unhinged while he shatters
her hopes and dreams
thrusts to make her cry
she dont know hes not what he seems
and in the morning he doesnt say goodbye
(((((
this is actually about the first scene in the movie KIDS which is a movie i really like, but hate the content of. I always find myself quite grossed out with the characters and yet sort of tantalized by that lifestyle. I remember setting out to write a screen play in a similar style around 15 and i only got about 8 pages in.
Anyway. The movie is about these new york skater kids, and begins with the lead male talking a young girl in to having sex with him.)))))
Bound, entangled
pressed and pushed
to further mangle
and she gives in to his
calm and clever words,
biological manipulations
as he further enhances the situation
with lips and pleasant finger tips
stroking neck and hair
she asks if he cares
and he replies with lies
without hint of dishonesty
and later honestly
brags of his player status
as if that is what matters
unhinged while he shatters
her hopes and dreams
thrusts to make her cry
she dont know hes not what he seems
and in the morning he doesnt say goodbye
(((((
this is actually about the first scene in the movie KIDS which is a movie i really like, but hate the content of. I always find myself quite grossed out with the characters and yet sort of tantalized by that lifestyle. I remember setting out to write a screen play in a similar style around 15 and i only got about 8 pages in.
Anyway. The movie is about these new york skater kids, and begins with the lead male talking a young girl in to having sex with him.)))))
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Gardens of War (april 2006)
Bells ring out,
through the gray and orange sky, where the air holds some sort of weight, some sense of itself, of its fragrance and feelings. And this sorted day displays a peculiar glow for the ramparts below are arranged and have the desire for entangling. Strange it is that such waved nonsense like cloth carries symbols for rejoicing, but stranger that such could bring brothers to struggle for rubble replacing…
Such it is that buildings fall once standing triumphant, replaced by weeds and roots as our mother comes a calling. And with ease she takes the toys from boys who cause commotion
Leaving flowers in the rubble to remind us of a higher form of devotion.
(((((was looking through pictures of war torn cities... a lot of them have trees and branches poking through the walls and windows... as if the moment the building is hit, it gives way to nature... certainly no one cares about the building anymore so it is allowed to go to waste... but beautiful things pop up...
hmmmm turkey is kind of like that... popped up from the fall of the ottomans...anyway... yeah)))))
through the gray and orange sky, where the air holds some sort of weight, some sense of itself, of its fragrance and feelings. And this sorted day displays a peculiar glow for the ramparts below are arranged and have the desire for entangling. Strange it is that such waved nonsense like cloth carries symbols for rejoicing, but stranger that such could bring brothers to struggle for rubble replacing…
Such it is that buildings fall once standing triumphant, replaced by weeds and roots as our mother comes a calling. And with ease she takes the toys from boys who cause commotion
Leaving flowers in the rubble to remind us of a higher form of devotion.
(((((was looking through pictures of war torn cities... a lot of them have trees and branches poking through the walls and windows... as if the moment the building is hit, it gives way to nature... certainly no one cares about the building anymore so it is allowed to go to waste... but beautiful things pop up...
hmmmm turkey is kind of like that... popped up from the fall of the ottomans...anyway... yeah)))))
Friday, April 28, 2006
untitled (eating disorders) (spring 2006)
I question her motives…
Do you give up pieces of yourself
To feed the starving tummies?
To reach some sort of balance
In the world?
To throw off shackles?
To make space for others?
To find yourself?
Find God?
The meaning of life?
Do you give yourself
So unquestioning
To provide?
To create?
For justice?
To truly live?
She replies…
To fit in these jeans
To fit in
To feel comfortable
To be confident
Beautiful
To not HATE myself!
To do this…
She starves
Takes from herself – the
Ability to succeed, leeches
The beauty from her cheeks,
Hips, arms, legs, stomach,
Chokes the breath
Rips it away from her brain –her organs
She bleeds, while not bleeding
She leaves us, while claiming
Shes not leaving
((((((this will be a painting... some of you have seen the draft... im sorry if this offends... i was writing to my parents about this issue recently... actually about me and this issue, about my own personal struggles... and i realized that this poem... written in a few moments of extreme frustration was in a lot of ways showing my own struggle. I always claimed that I was fasting.. a sort of spiritual stuggle to overcome the body's needs (and i still think this way) but it doesnt explain the feelings when i look in the mirror, my disgust at stepping on scales etc... and though most of this is changing or has left in a lot of ways because of my interactions with other's problems... its interesting that i dont contrast healthy thoughts with "disordered thoughts" but rather these pseudo "rationalized" motives i used to use for the same exact purpose (to lose weight)--as if they are so much better... as if that would make it ok.
Anyway in my letter to my parents I tried to explain how confused i used to get... in spiritual quests.... how i always wanted to be loved and be a great person... and a part of this was to be free of needs... but part of this meant being attractive....
anyway i would like to apologize to those who's motives i criticize... but i still think this is an interesting poem/picture...)))))
Do you give up pieces of yourself
To feed the starving tummies?
To reach some sort of balance
In the world?
To throw off shackles?
To make space for others?
To find yourself?
Find God?
The meaning of life?
Do you give yourself
So unquestioning
To provide?
To create?
For justice?
To truly live?
She replies…
To fit in these jeans
To fit in
To feel comfortable
To be confident
Beautiful
To not HATE myself!
To do this…
She starves
Takes from herself – the
Ability to succeed, leeches
The beauty from her cheeks,
Hips, arms, legs, stomach,
Chokes the breath
Rips it away from her brain –her organs
She bleeds, while not bleeding
She leaves us, while claiming
Shes not leaving
((((((this will be a painting... some of you have seen the draft... im sorry if this offends... i was writing to my parents about this issue recently... actually about me and this issue, about my own personal struggles... and i realized that this poem... written in a few moments of extreme frustration was in a lot of ways showing my own struggle. I always claimed that I was fasting.. a sort of spiritual stuggle to overcome the body's needs (and i still think this way) but it doesnt explain the feelings when i look in the mirror, my disgust at stepping on scales etc... and though most of this is changing or has left in a lot of ways because of my interactions with other's problems... its interesting that i dont contrast healthy thoughts with "disordered thoughts" but rather these pseudo "rationalized" motives i used to use for the same exact purpose (to lose weight)--as if they are so much better... as if that would make it ok.
Anyway in my letter to my parents I tried to explain how confused i used to get... in spiritual quests.... how i always wanted to be loved and be a great person... and a part of this was to be free of needs... but part of this meant being attractive....
anyway i would like to apologize to those who's motives i criticize... but i still think this is an interesting poem/picture...)))))
untitled intro (spring 2006)
And so he speaks,
Unsure of the words from his mouth
Like pollen,
To give birth, create,
Or hurt, agitate.
Speak easy-slow and comfortable
Rack your brain for
A free flowing
Rain
To invigorate, excite, give life
Drop drip drop
Drop drip drop
Love live love
Drop drip drop
And in the dance
When your body moves without you
Open your eyes -share it with your partner
(((this is the opening to my art book... just nervousness, hoping to make something worthwhile... the problem is its so small.. and im worried about painting in there, but so far got some good pictures poems and quotes...))))
Unsure of the words from his mouth
Like pollen,
To give birth, create,
Or hurt, agitate.
Speak easy-slow and comfortable
Rack your brain for
A free flowing
Rain
To invigorate, excite, give life
Drop drip drop
Drop drip drop
Love live love
Drop drip drop
And in the dance
When your body moves without you
Open your eyes -share it with your partner
(((this is the opening to my art book... just nervousness, hoping to make something worthwhile... the problem is its so small.. and im worried about painting in there, but so far got some good pictures poems and quotes...))))
no photo (april 2006)
-as if to capture this moment
this movement
were a CAPITAL CRIME,
a sublime TRANSGRESSION
but such impressions
only last moments though
and when we forget
without haste they remind
and in haste they define -these simple rules
rules
rarely changing –never allowing the changes to be
broadcast
as if fighting time’s sublime alterations
alternatively
they ask-without moments notice
and with high hopes
expectations
for those rare and beautiful items
and so we are forced to recognize that like “currency” or “precious metals”
they withhold –so as not to DEVALUE
but if they believed in the truth of TRUE BEAUTY…. They would know
A SMILE IS WORTH MUCH MORE THAN GOLD.
((((((there was this photo of a sign that read "no photo" tied up in barbed wire... i think a war picture... but i put it in my art book and decided that i would write about that concept... that denial... and i use to do it too.
that one verse is about how often people who dont let me take pictures of them ask for pics later... anyway... whatever. no photo... written in a park in istanbul))))))
this movement
were a CAPITAL CRIME,
a sublime TRANSGRESSION
but such impressions
only last moments though
and when we forget
without haste they remind
and in haste they define -these simple rules
rules
rarely changing –never allowing the changes to be
broadcast
as if fighting time’s sublime alterations
alternatively
they ask-without moments notice
and with high hopes
expectations
for those rare and beautiful items
and so we are forced to recognize that like “currency” or “precious metals”
they withhold –so as not to DEVALUE
but if they believed in the truth of TRUE BEAUTY…. They would know
A SMILE IS WORTH MUCH MORE THAN GOLD.
((((((there was this photo of a sign that read "no photo" tied up in barbed wire... i think a war picture... but i put it in my art book and decided that i would write about that concept... that denial... and i use to do it too.
that one verse is about how often people who dont let me take pictures of them ask for pics later... anyway... whatever. no photo... written in a park in istanbul))))))
Communal Kitchen 20:45 Madrid Espana (feb 2006)
The representatives gather
Displaying common
Instinctual
Individual…. Desires
Each assigned their place, their nation, their role
They stand… and dance
Cooking
Communally displaying their talents
A different language
Alien ingredients
A pinch of tengo
A dab of salsa
A teaspoon of polka
And we whirl around
The gestures impromptu
The colors
And smells
Of estrangement
What is my dance, my flag, my quisine?
The French eat Italian -and become the EU
Americans eat tortillas and the Americas unite
Japanese eat European food and Eurasia is reborn
Continents come together in the kitchen
Communal dancing
Community of life.
(((((((this was based on the actual event in madrid... watching as nationalities melt away in the kitchen... still its funny... backpackers call eachother by locations not names... whats my flag? does it matter when i recognize the humanness of it all?)))))))
Displaying common
Instinctual
Individual…. Desires
Each assigned their place, their nation, their role
They stand… and dance
Cooking
Communally displaying their talents
A different language
Alien ingredients
A pinch of tengo
A dab of salsa
A teaspoon of polka
And we whirl around
The gestures impromptu
The colors
And smells
Of estrangement
What is my dance, my flag, my quisine?
The French eat Italian -and become the EU
Americans eat tortillas and the Americas unite
Japanese eat European food and Eurasia is reborn
Continents come together in the kitchen
Communal dancing
Community of life.
(((((((this was based on the actual event in madrid... watching as nationalities melt away in the kitchen... still its funny... backpackers call eachother by locations not names... whats my flag? does it matter when i recognize the humanness of it all?)))))))
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