June 17, 2009

do you feel it?


the bloods rushing through my veins,
going to my brain
its making me dizzy,
the things that miss me

im a target without a bulls-eye
an eternal life form waiting to die
a force to behold
yet im so alone,
stark white, the colour of bone

a buried memory,
a + b without c,
a volcano that's gone cold
an ancient being
that just won't grow old

so whats there about me?
a vague misunderstanding,
taken out to sea,
violence is always the key,
the secret to any home

a criminal on the run
a killer, your neighbor
a soul without favor
your not the only one.

June 9, 2009

hey look at me, im an art fag!


UNFINISHED

UNFINISHED

UNFINISHED

UNFINISHED

June 3, 2009

trash?

trash can be a lot of things.
you can talk it.
you can throw it out.
you can be it.
you can burn it.
you can see it.
you can smell it.
you can feel it.
you can touch it.
trash is brilliant, it knows no true form,
except the human interpretation.
its ignored by most, but offers food and clothing for others.
it can be waste. it can be treasure.
are we, humans, just God's trash?

April 30, 2009

the red barn

I'm re-calling this as a re-occurring dream I keep having. It very unique in a way because I had this dream 3 nights in a row, one night featuring one of my best friends cooper who just so happen to have a cabin that is bright red in the middle of the woods that her great grandfather built. I DID NOT KNOW THIS. She asked me to explain the cabin, and I explained everything that i could remember. Everything that i said corresponded with the cabin that she goes to every year.


The place is cold, and the woods are thick. I'm all alone in the sense that the house..or barn or whatever it is is all alone. Physically, I am not alone. The barn is bright, violent red, a stark contrast to the surrounding trees of soft browns. i don't even recognize much green. Just all brown. compared to the blot of red that is the place. there is a river in front of it, clear green and still. It is also cold. A girl stand at the edge looking into the water, maybe throwing some rocks into it or something. She is alone at first. The water begins to ripple and it appears that young man is swimming up to her, he is handsome, and at first she enjoys him. Something happens that i don't remember exactly. He...isn't right. Something about him is unnerving and more or less frightning. From what i remember, gets hazy. But then I see her running up to the bright red cabin. The front door is situated behind a rather spacious front porch. Old wooden rocking chairs are placed all around. She opens the doors and runs into the kitchen. She is frantially searching through all of the cabnits and droors. Everything is old and wooden and creaking. Then one night I had another dream that I was in the back of a car with Cooper, and we were driving down a rode in the middle of the woods. We were going to the cabin. i didnt want to (I even talked in my sleep "i dont wanna go" as my boyfriend told me without even knowing what my dreams were. I even woke up screaming) we arrive in the cabin and at first were alone. But then the people appear, the girl is in the kitchen again and I can feel her fear. It seems no one else sees her. I keep seeing the water. While I am not her, I feel as she is feeling and it is pure fear. Something has happened to her or them , and I dont know what. Im hoping that perhaps I'll be graced (or cursed) with yet another dream tonight.

March 24, 2009

very old

2002
"Group Poem"
a.k.a only me.

Only able to select words from a word bank.



Man, Woman
Murder
Content with
Anger and hate.
Despair is
Their affection,
Malice is their love.
Cobwebs behind
Their sorrow,
Icy cold,
As a fate.
Man, Woman,
Murder
Malevolent
Stone sea
Death as a friend
Killing hour,
As they cower,
Their family.

March 14, 2009

PROPERLY FUCKED;

everything blurs
the voices, they slur
all bet's are off, we've lost.

the anger, it cures
all of the metallic words
all bet's are off, we've lost.

make-up, it smears
through hell and the tears
all bet's are off, we've lost.

the darkness, it lures
and flesh eaten by birds
all bet's are off, we've lost

March 13, 2009

bashing, smashing,
and sirens blaring,
blood and guts,
lights flashing,
insanity flaring,
just call me George Lutz.
Bang, bang, guns blasting
and tempers wearing
the hottest fashion, cuts.
shrieking, crashing
no sharing, voices blaring,