Thursday, February 17, 2005

I hate this. It's crap.

Passionate hot breath upon each other's faces, this is that "thing" we call our lives. Each one of us runs the thought through our head as if it were everything, and we wish for it. With time, it may come; or it may not.

They speak softly to one another, they are close to one another. The bed has a checker pattern, white and black, white and black. The pillow is as elegant as it is large. She rests her head upon it, as does he alongside her.

There is a window near them, the pink curtains drawn aside. The night peeks its eyes through it, starry and probing. Down the stories of the building some cars whirr by, their lights glowing in darkness.

Full and ripe, the moon is a large cratered face.

He begins softly kissing her cheek, he strokes her hair with the other hand. Outside crickets start their rythmic noise.

She takes off her shirt. Her black bra holds her perky, young breasts and hides them away. He takes off his shirt, revealing hairy iron and steel.

Her bra is taken off. He touches her assets gropingly, she touches his powerful, cruel body.

Soon the bed is heard ricketing on its springs, going to and fro. But then, "Cut!" is screamed, and they stop, lying there naked and aroused.

The cameras glare upon them, the director sits in his chair, with his hat, and eyes them carefully. The lenses of the cameras stare back dully. "Ya need ta slow down," he says. "And ya can have more foreplay dan that."
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Wednesday, February 16, 2005

one more cummings poem

O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting

fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked

thee
has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy

beauty .how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
(but
true

to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover

thou answerest

them only with

spring)

-e.e. cummings
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monochrome

the car drives along the road
rims sparkle, the tires flame from speed,
air flies past, stagnant of decay
this is the hearse, it is sure

i am driven by my fuel
full of lead, which weights me down
and my fuel does not cost $1.89
and my fuel is free
and it doesn't pollute the air
i am the wheelman

put out your thumb
you universal hitchiker
i'll pull over
i'll let you step inside
"this is my baby," i'll say
"she grows and grows and eats
up time. her name's monochrome."
and this is my life
and this is my vehicle
and i'll make it to the edge
somehow
and fall into the sky
and touch the stars
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some cummings

Hello is what a mirror says
it is a maid says Who
and(hearing not a which)replies
in haste I must be you

no sunbeam ever lies

Bang is the meaning of a gun
it is a man means No
and(seeing something yes)will grin
with pain You so&so

true wars are never won

-e.e. cummings

---

when god decided to invent
everything he took one
breath bigger than a circustent
and everything began

when man determined to destroy
himself he picked the was
of shall and finding only why
smashed it into because

-e.e. cummings

---

am was. are leaves few this. is these a or
scratchily over which of earth dragged once
-ful leaf. & were who skies clutch an of poor
how colding hereless. air theres what immense
live without every dancing. singless on-
ly a child's eyes float silently down
more than two those that and that noing our
gone snow gone

yours mine

. We're
alive and shall be:cities may overflow(am
was)assassinating whole grassblades,five
ideas can swallow a man;three words im
-prison a woman for all her now:but we've
such freedom such intense digestion so
much greenness only dying makes us grow

-e.e. cummings
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Tuesday, February 15, 2005

This was written this weekend in my lj, I think it is good enough to go here.

I gave up pop. Caffeine. I vow to never drink caffeine again and I've been keeping that promise for months now. We don't really see caffeine as someting all too bad or anything, and it surely is more minor than many drugs, but it is still a drug, and it alters your brain, it alters you.

I also went to this girl at work's birthday party. They drank alcohol. I didn't. It was all right, we just sat around and talked for about an hour and a half. Then everyone got up and left to go "hot boxing," whatever that was. I went in the van, and that was when I realized what it is: flooding an area (in this case, the van) with pot smoke and passing around the pot and getting stoned while listening to music.

I got out of the van and left. I walked all the way around the Best Western Motel, it was a bit cold, there were some people over on the other side of the street having their own party. I felt more older than anything. I was disgusted with what our youth, my generation, is doing: falling into the din of drugs because they can't stand the dredge of day-to-day life. They could do something about it as one, they could change it, rather be it by political process or by rebellion, but instead their energies are wasted on drugs. Drugs, which tame us, make it so we feel good. The opiate of the masses, the calmer of the masses, the thing that keeps them in check. It was such wasted youth. Every moment is older.

I came to my car and left.
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let it be with infamy

candy tarts upon gushing hearts
the day is here, let it be with infamy
brown chocolate upon sweet dreams
it is valentine's day
where're you?
alone - with someone -
will some arms find you
tonight?
no no no
and where're you?
my heart
thuds
a steel piston
my blood my oil
and where're you?
no no no
alone - with someone -
where?
has there been a slaughter here?
the slaughter of love?
i'll put on my gloves,
i'll put the evidence in a bag
no no no
who was st. valetine?
a man who died, or something more?
show me what that is like
no no no
you've got to go -
you broken
you broken
you've got to go
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HIV: the next anti-cancer

What kills gives life.
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Monday, February 14, 2005

talking to myself

you must sleep
but i don't want to
tomorrow you will pay
there's always something to pay
yes there is
now z's must come from your mouth
as if kisses
& dreams must finger you, privately
you're sick, speaking like this
i still don't want to sleep
but you must, you must
i know
how does it feel to be resigned?
it's okay, but how about this:
i'm dreaming right now,
and whem i am old, wrinkled, & dying
with my last heave & my heart's last
thud
i will wake up, at last
you're such a dreamer
i know i am
but the type of dreamer you are,
you dream with your eyes open
now get to sleep
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Friday, February 11, 2005

There is no Brick

Uses for a brick:

1. To beat someone to death


2. A pet brick


3. As a bomb dropped from a plane


4. To hold open a door


5. To lift as a weight


6. To commit suicide


7. To build a building

I could go on, but my answers are getting less creative.

Think of something more creative than I have?
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Thursday, February 10, 2005

got it back

got my stolen iPod soul back
finally
i feel back in love.
i shall go have all forms of loving with my iPod soul.
goodbye and goodnight and adieu.
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