I want you like a snake curls,
As a peacock never ends.
I’ve made a million signs to the world
I’m waiting for just one.
Truth beyond this harmony
In a street of mystery;
Forgot an innocence only
To play abandon in the long grass;
A misconception I have waited for,
No devil I ignored.
Head to tail in a loop,
Head to tail backward bend.
Tag: street
Coconut Oil (day 1477)
Dear George,
I’ve been wandering the streets late at night wondering where I am, what I’m doing here, how I got here, what day it is. I know this is kind of silly, just a simple glance at my watch I’ve begun to wear again, but I think it’s more in theory: I’m lost. Can you associate?
I don’t look at my hands much anymore. They’ve become acceptable. I now am fascinated with my chin. The various states of hair growth, the different shape it takes upon waking, after shaving, after showering, at night, in the morning. Have you ever noticed this difference?
It has become obvious to me that my morbid thoughts aren’t normal. No, I am not always dying. The pain in my hip is not my insides unwinding. The twitch in my breast isn’t what it feels like to have your lung spewing it’s contents into my stomach. My throat glands will hurt that much if I jab them consistently. Ears aren’t meant for sharp objects, nor is my nose, throat, bum…
Well, the rumors are true. I’ve begun to enjoy the pleasures of massage. Can you believe I went this long in life without ever truly exploring what my muscles could handle, besides that which I do for muscle growth? I get lost for good lengths of time just trying to understand why my muscle is flip-flopping as it does. I notice when I lie flat on the ground that a muscle in my back shifts a bit. I notice my calves are incredibly tight. And to have somebody else do it for me?! Goodness.
Life changed.
Have you discovered the wonders of coconut oil yet?
With all my brotherly love,
Red.
Whiskey Tracks (day 1457)
A ground has beginnings:
Longing and forgivings;
Mandate in a bottle,
Lost without a harbour.
As blue sky’s winning,
Heart jumps spinning;
Lover and a well laid plan,
Governor’s left this land.
Help the lizard.
Death on a one way street,
Trucks getting really beat,
Dust covering wiskey tracks.
Anarchy and His Brothers (day 1387)
With Israel and his son Concordia,
The Conquistadors contemplated anarchy;
“No!” Yelled the city streets
Against windows of innocent glassy puddles.
And thus the lost voice: Arbritage.
So from inside the ancient gold plated doors
Swashbucklers leaned on their pole called history,
Singing songs that rolled off tongues
Like français of an unbroken heart.
The two shook their secret handshake,
Clasped each a moon of waxing gibbous
Deep within their full hearts of innocent desire,
Coughing on fumes leftover from the army
Who had rolled through these streets
To a machine named destruction.
So who was left crying?
Not the lost brothers, silently creeping along
Dead back streets, poorly lit.
No, not the dead brothers waving rebel flags.
Not the flowers, forever resilient
To tumult and it’s darkness.
No, it was the stone covered city
And it’s sister: splinters.
This is not Life (day 1290)
What are these breaths of terror streets?
What bringeth this indescribable blabble?
Shall it speak for all of my soul: truths,
Or shall mystery shroud over, unspoken?
Un-mystery my salad meats, for I am becometh origin.
Controlling dreams in an undecided, unclad barbaric soul.
Feeding on these terror streets.
And here I yell: “Let these snakes regain territory!”
I shall not feed on unsuspecting vegetation.
I shall not feed on unsuspecting vegetation.
I shall not feed on unsuspecting vegetation.
I shall not feed on unsuspecting vegetation.
This is not life.
Flower’s Heart (day 1090)
I’ve got memories stored deep inside a flower’s heart.
It’s named sunshine and a memory
For your hidden broken secret.
Nobody knows, and it’s
Nobody knows.
Dancing with the street lights,
Unmarked walls of silent hallways.
Which have me singing out loudly
With angry pixies and upset fairies.
Lightly dancing strings of laughter
About my hidden secrets name,
Knowing I’m forever dreaming
Deep inside this heart’s remains.
This flower never after.
Nobody knows, and it’s
Nobody knows.
Fell (day 997)
You know I had a chance
When our eyes first had a glance
Struggling with the beat
Then you fell over me
Shifty little feet
And you fell over me
Giving me a chance
When you fell over me
It was gambling, a chance
To look you in the eye
A pure innocence, nestled deep
Then you fell over me
Exchanging numbers in the street
And you fell over me
Giving me a chance
When you fell over me
And when I leaned in for a kiss
You closed your eyes and leaned
Not an ounce of soul held back
Then you fell over me
Never anything but sweet
And you fell over me
Giving me a chance
When you fell over me
To Harbor (day 909)
It is hard to be away,
To waltz down the street
Without your hand in my elbow.
To eat alone.
Your face my thoughts company.
With moments of clarity
Sparking the fire
Inside my soul.
It’s harder to slip
Into cold sheets at night
Without knowing
When next you shall be waiting,
Giving, expecting.
Warm breath tickling my nape.
Warm smile to curb my blues,
Warm kitchen to feed my soul.
And when last I find grace,
Will harbor – my old bones –
Be welcome to thine dear heart?
Dispelled Legions (day 900)
Legions of piping bands
Tunics bedazzled with
Ten foot peacock feathers
Rubies hemmed with gold
Chin straps and rosy lips
While out of breath
Gasping for breath
Left right left
Left right left
To the tune of ancient mariners
Ramshackled by a recent gale
Lonely and bygone
But strapped with infinite hope
Discovering smiles
On passing children
Who stop and stare
Slack jawed and dreaming
Holding mother’s pant leg close
And the song chirps loudly
As all of us dream
Focused determination spreads
About each members mane
They walk the fine line
Between 7th and Fraser
15th and Vine
On past these streets
In a cold autumn breeze
Biting into saturated spectators
With empty bottles of hot chocolate
Rattling along with cold children
And dispelled souvenirs
Collar (day 844)
Loosening my collar as I walk up to the spotlight
Hushed vibrations filter through my being
I take a slow breath and look around at expecting faces
Their nervous teeth chattering back at me
Catching my gaze one by one like capital letters
Each their own little religious Icon in my speechless air
Hanging as if suspended in Grandma’s hallway
Forgiveness setting me free while I exhale my contempt
That piece of me that eats away at my conscience
Making me the miscarriage, the flaw
Do you know where I came from today?
I shiver at the thought that even just one of you
Had watched me as I sat shaking in the back corner
Down in dusty nether regions of Carrall and Hastings
My glance glittering like mother’s shiny silverware
My coffee sitting idle: half full – I’m an optimist
Huddled over pages of pages I’ve worked hard at keeping un-wrinkled
Unsuccessfully
Glancing over words that mean little to me now
Figuring every vowel is missing diaeresis
And scribbling on napkins to avoid appearing unorganized
As I spill out my verbatim…
Loosening my collar
Unbuttoning my top button and juggling the microphone
Sinking into a low growl that catches their attention
Chocolatey smooth I say, a lover’s dream
A paradise of low frequencies that shift tailbones
Reckoning based on incalculable numbers
Train station brown brick and mortar stares back at me
From behind the crucifixions waiting nervously
For a brief moment dust settles
Literally, the sun-lit dust beams get lost
In a sea of hovering beer mugs and uneven chairs
Don’t worry. Don’t get nervous sitting there
Reading between the lines and expecting fears
This isn’t a bad ending to a dull day
This is just a well mannered man dressed to satisfy
Piqued desires of the elegant class one starched collar at a time
Unfolded liner notes with immaculate white spaces
This is a jaunt down Water Street with a Hastings attitude
This is a spitting collar loosened