Category: raw

Makin Rhyme (day 814)

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Shake my sugar
My gloved thing
In moonlight
It’s a good thing
It’s been alright
Oh my dear thing

Cause it’s a 1-2-3
Hippity
Hippity
Hippity
Hop
Shake it down some
Make rhythm

Run

Baby you’re all fine
Sugar and rhyme
You pull roses from hearts crest
You pull angels from heavens nest
Your big bad ways unknown to man
You drag hearts round
You make loud sound

You’ve heard words
That ain’t mine
You lift pity hurts
Until blind bursts shatter loudly
You’ve pushed bad songs
Until rhythm equals dirt
Slung guns with the bad crew
And left daddy with a wide grin

Been there, you know
I’ve hustled in bad times
When there ain’t a living
You’ve got nothing baby
Like it ain’t hurt
You ain’t nothing baby
Like it ain’t hurt

Truth is
It’s a good thing
Prophecy will manifest
Like good goblins
In the blackness
Or Michael Jackson
And a leather vest
It ain’t lies
It’s like a holocaust
Evil gone
And the good all left
Broken gods
Relaxing on the river’s edge

It’s alright
I’m a gentle touch
I’ve got it down
Sugar and sweet
I’m a gentle touch
You know baby
I’m a gentle touch

Now no break
Can penetrate
Can permeate
This fine skin
Traumatize
Through these eyes
Cause you’re a bad seed
Through these eyes
You’re never wrong

Fall (day 812)

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I lost that feeling deep within the cavernous region of my lonely heart
When the holy sun set upon the western banks of euphoria
My fingers crawled with memories over burning sand shifting away time
Like Mother Nature’s wiles as summer turns to fall
Leaves challenging gravity to a duo, a fate well known to man
Fruits come to spoil and nights come to close amongst sober flight
Silently and diligently animals march their way with instincts
Into warmer climes and distant hills, far off ponds of migration
Flocks and herds and pods and groups and hibernation
With the great cycle of life: life and death and birth and age
And here I sit: legs crossed with my third eye alert
Searching amongst the birch trees and clovers for only that which comes
Without forced determination, without abrupt distraction
As the harvest moon breaches the young evenings virginity
And the lone coyote sings a song of love into the cool night air

Riga - 201209 (400 of 605)

A Hand Shake (day 807)

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I’ve been the leftover
The gimme-gimme gone
Got you by the balls in the halls
Leftover

Give it or not
Lost, blown in the end
A dream or a thought
Give it away, give it away, give it away

Now drop.
Let the groove hold your hands
Flow through the night
Through the eyes and the eyes of the eyes; high

See me, see the glow in these these
See the chance
Buckets fallin’ under heavy, heavy
Drops of pure bloods truth

I’m havin’ attacks
Straight to the heart
Like a shak-a-shak-a-shak
Bare chested at the moon, OWWWW

So it’s the way that we love
It’s the get it, get it
Get it all packed in the black Jones tall
Lost souls holding out

My bodies been around
Shuffled down long gray gray walls
Penitentiary
I’ve been the guilt, the reconcile

But I’ve learned you are the shift
The give it t’me, give it t’me
Give it t’me with leftovers
Drop. You’re here

[note: best read at 91BPM]

In Your Teeth (day 805)

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I’ve been watching you shift the ever blurring lines that hold society in check
Taking them in your teeth and letting the camera capture your raw moments of sex
I want to understand what it’s like to plan this desire like a premeditated killer
Drinking tea over strewn socks and dirty magazines in a black and white image

I never thought I’d hold your hand walking down this hall
Penis stuck between your legs and there isn’t even any kissing
I’m not sure I understand the lines being blurred here
For they exist singularly in figments of imaginations
Directed by lines of square adults and their best intentions for children

I’ve been watching you shift the ever blurring lines that hold society in check
As you walk away veiled in a cloak of mastermind and glitter
I’m not sure the intention towards my understanding and which end is right
But this is my effort to blur my own lines of this never ending puzzle

Unintelligently (day 804)

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I couldn’t have struggled through your disaster without the common knowledge that you’re batshit crazy. I mean, I knew you were batshit crazy the whole time, but it’s even more tragic when it’s unintelligently directed at me.

Honestly baby, it doesn’t look good on you, that shade of abusive humor and ill suited temper that rolls off your tongue with vigorous encouragement from your minions who are just as uneducated, particularly on the logistics of the complication that’s arisen here, as you are.

I’m not sure what part I should even attempt to understand; my innocent discussion was nitpicked like the crows at the side of the road… Did you really miss the smile about the side of my face? It hurts me when you know I’m a sensitive being and just trying to keep cool.

It’s not even logical to me! It’s like the clock struck bat shit o’clock and out came the fangs hissing because they simply smelt dinner. And I wasn’t even invited to the party in the first place!

God dammit.

No Direction Known (day 797)

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I am a victim of a cry
I am saddened no desire
Your denial of pleasure
Of finer things in life
Another way

I am a truth without a cause
A burning candle without a wick
When things explode
I am the hole
Absent of memory

I am a lesson never learnt
Beaten into fibrous lush
Browned and featureless
Lost and empty
Homeless

I am the midnight street walking
A single fluorescent light aglow
Long shadows down the road
And no finger prints
Left outdoors

I am not your golden rule
Your constant stream of pleasure
Lollygagging in suns warmth
Straight and narrow
There is no direction known

CaribooHillSnowDay - 20120116 (15 of 22)

Angels Embrace (day 796)

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I dance with an angel slithering up my back
Lightly digging her fingernails into points on my spine
Our sweet summer skin melting in the motion
A smooth song hits us in sensitive spots
Ebbing and swelling the tips of our hearts
We inhale each others substance
Focus gathers in tiny beads of sweat
Flickering brightly in the midday sun
Her collar bone eats up my carnivorous thoughts
Tempting my index finger to trace lower edges
Hiding in the shadows, decadent as they wait
She spins, fingers lightly touch my ribs
….and we hold.

Model: Amanda Silvera Photogapher: Maijah Lewk.
Model: Amanda Silvera