never write while drinking (collection 1)

We Fly, We Die

In between races, in between places.
Watching you move past,
(You watching me fall behind)
Somehow you are always near
Like the change I so desperately needed,
But I’ll never meet, just as you’ll never know.

The fear makes me tense, the fear makes us sense,
Gazing eyes that neevr meet until-briefly
Your smile, enthralling, secures my glance
(Panic and insecurity wash over me).
Standing, drowning in prophecy fulfilled,
(Like usual) I have to leave, (as before) I know you’ll be there.

Just dropping a line, like screaming a sign.
Maybe we were lovers once
(Perhaps during the Ming dynasty).
Romancing a ghost in requiems of us,
Dearest (I’m sorry) if we died once,
Reincarnate it’ll happen again, (re-) reincarnate it’ll happen again.

A hundred times we’ll die; a hundred times we’ll fly
Through guillotines tempted and execution lines cut.
(A simple glance secures my eyes)
Standing, drowning in prophecy fulfilled,
Wearing a daisy in your hair, we shout,
“Where tears once filled my lungs, they’re now filled with your breath.”

We (in a collective thrill) recite elegies.
We (in a collective thrill) sing dirges.
For lost loves and lives that’ll never be.



Maybe I Should Be A Painter

With this transcending glare (up)
Similar to the glass at the bar (down)
Sputnik, non-operational, passes (up)
Standing on Orion’s (down).

Elements of green unknown,
A funeral dirge played under sheets,
Of naïve lovers at seventeen (remember?).
Crash, Bang Y2K-or what should have been.
Lovers at seventeen, or what should have been.
F-22 Formation-what should it be?

Maybe I should be a painter…
Your eyes are deceived,
Easier than your heart.



There’s Nothing You Can Do

The stars shine, maybe in the morning you’ll be fine.
You wonder what happened to time and space,
When dawn breaks, sleep deprived and still waiting.
Let’s drink to falling in love and fallen comrades.

Fight the good fight, hold me til the morning’s light.
“No, we can’t die in each other’s arms,” or
“Not tonight at least,” scream your wavering green eyes.
Let’s drink to failing love and our fallen comrades.

One more rhyme forever forgot to space and time.
A.K. Forty-Seven to Kevlar vest,
Blood flows like Iranian oil, bullet to chest.
Let’s drink to failing friends and our fallen love.


Erase My Existence (you should be buzzing)

The sky swirls above me. I lean over the table again…niaga elbat eht revo nael I.

It goes up.
It goes in.
Finally, it goes down.
I lean my head back.
The sky swirls above me.
“She’s here!” someone shrieks. Oh shit.

We clean the books off. We clean the table off. We tie the baggies off.

We pretend we’re smoking weed.

Hours pass as she makes her way from the front door to the back. I’m so fucking high. She looks at Chase. She looks at Emily. She looks at me. I look at Chase. Chase looks at me. Then I realize.

She doesn’t know.

“How many times have I told you not to smoke back here,” she says in her most motherly tone. Chance and I exchange glances again. She doesn’t know. Finally she turns some music one. I dance. I’m so fucking high.

Someone informs the room Jenn needs a ride-as usual. I get in the car with Emily and Chase. Music blares from the radio. Chase and Emily sing along. I dance. The planets seem A
L
I
G
N
E
D
For the night. Their energy pulses through my veins. I’m so fucking high.

My body tingles. Then nothing, just my heart pounding to the beat of the music. I feel nothing. I feel as if I’m about to go comatose then suddenly awakened by the beat. I imagine the instant before a car accident victim feels the pain, the warmth of his blood running down his forehead, the glass puncturing his skin. I feel the adrenaline. I feel the music. I’m so fucking high. Jenn gets in the car. She knows. The music beats on. I dance, only this time, Jenn dances too.

It’s nice when someone just wants you. It’s good for a soul to know it’s needed. Jenn is good at that. She will always make contact when you need a friend. It’s an instinct some people have. Jenn’s smile says, “There’s comfort here.” We get back to the house.

“What the fuck?!” she screams, less motherly and much more pissed off.

Now…
she knows.
[Exit Chase and Emily stage right]

I wonder where Chase and Emily took off to? I wish I had the sack. Jenn and I sit on the couch. Alex shouts about her keys. We ignore Alex. Alex is a bitch who gets hers on a daily basis. In fact, she’s getting it right now. Her car keys are missing. Alex insists Jenn has her keys , and is hiding them because “that’s what Chinese people do” (Jenn is Filipino).

“Yeah, I have them. And I’m not giving them back because…you…are…black,” Jenn replies sarcastically.

“I’m Puerto Rican.” Alex proudly defends herself (Alex is black). Alex continues. We continue to ignore her. Chatting again, I’m so fucking high.

[Enter Chase and Emily through same door stage right]
I’m glad Chase is back. She is still screaming. I’m so fucking high. All I can do is hear my conversation with Jenn, 5 seconds before it happens. Pretty soon, everyone knows. My girlfriend calls. I’m so fucking high. I talk to her. We hang up. I’m so fucking high.

I’m so fucking high, I float in the clouds. The adrenaline still pumps. My heart still races. The sky swirls above me. I’ve never been so fucking high.

As my world crashes down around me, I was already dead.



incidents of a lighter manner/only my mom

mom: if eric found a nickel and i had a $1.25 i'd still have $.80 more than him

dad: what? juxtaposing...eric found twenty dollars with...

mom: just supposing eric found...

dad & me: (look at mom laughing) what...are...you...talking about...

**********************************************

To U i CaLl --> (2:10:29 AM)-->: No, I can't honestly, and if you know me like you say you do, then call me

S4XycloCMNDqA17 --> (2:10:52 AM)-->: ok, i'll call you... a douche

****************************************
as i wish


on stars...on candles...on certain times when you look at the clock...it wasn't like this...i had more money, but not a lot...i could make you smile...i'd fallen from that tree...i'd never thought about it...i had self control...you hadn't taken care of me (though thank you)...you weren't crazy...that this doesn't ruin my friendships with your friends...this doesn't ruin our friendship...i wasn't reminded of you...sometimes you hadn't rescued me all those nights...that we never met...that i never left...on eye lashes...people weren't so dumb...i wasn't the biggest vice in my life...i hadn't taken that phone call...people understood me...moreso that i understood people...i was an astronaut...i was a writer...i was a teacher...i was someone someone could adore-a.s....i didn't try to be so brave...i wasn't a coward...



i'm beginning to think this is the same town with a different name...



maybe it's just me





My anaretic hope, My bulimic page

I see your beauty every day.
But today, i really saw you-
Or what might just be.
I didn't see your eyes.
I didn't see your smile.
What i saw was myself,
Worried sick as you lay there.
Shrunken, Frail, breathing through
A mask so you don't catch cold.
Forty years 'go
Who would have known?

AThe stories were true.
The books nonfiction.
I pray you don't die.
I know what i said.
Now we're both untrue

As i watch you
-Hobble to the bed, For you'd rather use your strength to cry-
I remember when we lived,
And how we could die.
I wonder if we could be
(But you have to trust)

I want to run through sprinklers
Your hand in my hand (like before)
And when you fall (just like before
I'll pick you up (as it happened)
My heart will creadle yours
(Not anything like before)

But as it does now:
Faithfully, honestly,
Wanting to trade my strenght for yours
And to be weak in your arms
Knowing, like pieces of a puzzle,
That in time our strength
Will be built and we'll be complete.



The Bedlam Cycle

Expose the threat,
NOt the threatened.
Take this, thake that,
And regulate the chemicals.
"We're here to help," you say
From Behind charts and desks.
"We'll make you feel 'normal' again,"
While i talk to four people in one
(I'm supposed to kill number three0
"What you feel is normal"
...?...then why the meds?
Put flowers on the table
Words in my mouth
And Drugs in my head.

I still don't feel it.
"We understand what you're going through."
(How when you're not even listening)

"How do you like it in here?"
What's it like at home?
(Give me normalcy please)

I know life,
I've met death.
"Everyone feels this way"
Everyone's on pills?
Breed me, train me,
Duplicate me, repeat cycle.
Zombies chained in line.

I hope this next dose,
will set us free.





Please No Outside Food

Insert quarter []
here
I take my handful of pellets for the farm animals and wander about.

Should I feed the chickes or the cow? The goats or the sheep? My conscience races. How do i feed all these animals with a handful of lousy crumbs?

I s...t...r...o....l...l... to the far left-hand corner and sit on the fence in the back. Perched next to a young girl, i throw my unfulfilling pellets to the center of the petting zoo. She laughs as the animals rage towards the treats in a mad dash. Equally amsued, we giggle together at the fiasco we've (according to her) created. Seeing her delight, I jump down from the fence and retrieve another quarter from my pocket. I slip it into her hand and she immediately runs for the machine

insert quarter []
here
She hops back onto the fence. As she rears back her arm, i glance her direction. She stops before i speak. She knows i have an idea. I lean over and whisper in her ear. Before i'm done talking, she's up following my advice.

"wwwwwooooooffffffff!!!! aaarrrrfffff!!!!! woooooooooooofffff!!!!"

She's flying through the animals dispersing them like a sheep dog. I'm afraid she'll choke, she's laugh so hard (though i almost fall off the fence).

She settles back next to me.

"Now!" i inform her.

The moment the pellets hit the air, a giraffe eats them all mid-air. No sooner than the enormous creature catches the food (to both of our amazements) does a bokey swallow the giraffe whole.

Now...everyone is stunned by our spectacle. We (collectively) neither laugh nor cry. The donkey lay there for an hour.

X(actually over here)
Finally it gets up and walks away.
"What is he?" I ask the girl.
Distraught and sad, she replies, "Hungry?"
"No" i utter over my laughter. Her tears stop, perplexed, she waits for an answer.
"A llama," i state.
She smiles at the delight of creation.

***********************************************

A Candle In the Day


You were the guillotine i've tempted.
if love lives or dies, You must know,
i am not melanion.
You're not my atalanta.
my pannier is empty,
bringing no apples of gold,
but pouring forth a song.

our soaring souls shall not faint nor tire.
while paris wails, Your star still shines.
It shines much higher
than any other star.
Your love hangs like a lamp;
set out to light my path,
and give guidance through night.

the blade falls as old women knit.
flowers in Your porcelain hands,
bend gracefully in winds
and arrange themselves
(as if to understand).
we did not waste our last breaths.
cling, closer Love, and close Your eyes.

the light of a whole life
burns out with extinguished love.


*****************************************
i cross bridges not burn them

i want to make my poems touch
like parentheses building a bridge
over intricate harbors and seas
(connecting where "i" end and "You" begin).
it's here that we'll stop to watch
the waterlilies and fish below,
my arms around Your waist
(and Your scent intoxicating).
kisses speaking nonsense,
bind up the clocks,
in love's fair eloquence,
and sever their ticking hands.

where the wild flowers lies,
a sunbeam finds passage
upon my mistress dancing;
and i sing ending without cadence,
missing the final note
(a note i can't find alone).
throwing pennines into wishing wells
(to catch Her in that impossible tone),
i'll dream and watch,
but never guess
cause it won't fall into place
but rise up and sing through my soul.

i know,
we live in a world of heights and depths,
of distance and motion;
i'm glad
we both broke down at the same time,
same street, same service station

it's between parentheses
(not at the beginning or end)
the story of my life is told.




my x-mas list
* to marry You...NOW

* time machine

* ebay item 230301219378 dead kennedy's lp skateboard party original...or lost in cambodia/police truck 7-inch original single

* 1st Press Minor Threat 1st two 7" on 12" Red or Blue Cover 1984

* rocket boots

* pizza lunchables...hamburger lunchable will suffice

* electric drum kit...so i can play somwhat quietly

* my own trained monkey to make Jess and i popcorn

* Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols (lp 1977 version)

* an army of well trained ninjas

* godspeed you black emperor to serenade my Girfriend and i

* talent

* friends

* an autographed photo of gordon ramsay

* socks...preferably little ones that don't ever go above my ankle and are hole-in-the-heel-proof

* carton of cigarettes...marlboro reds only...

* to drink a case of beer with fugazi...actually...they might get violent... we'll leave that one up to fate...

* to discover a new species...so i can name it something lame...

* unedited/revised version of andrew schwab's new book...

* for haste the day to cancel so i can see sky eats airplane...

* ghoti hook reunion show in my g-ma's apartment...

* joy electric lp "my grandfather, the cubist"

* or my own personal synths to make my own synth pop

* to kick will ferrell in the head personally...if i have to watch someone else kick him...i need it on dvd...so i can rewatch it...



vampire's night out


the sun sits on the city
as i stumble out of the theatre's
four feature horror festival
(how i forget the beauty
of a razor-blad 'cross the throat).
across streets and pass darkened shops,
i dwell on the moonlit glimmer
and evening shade of loneliness.
it's on the corner of 54th and barrett
that i've seen the Goddess.

across the avenue, i'll stop for a drink
in hopes of her peering eyes
through rattling venetian blinds.
an empty window,
i flick the dreg of a cigarette
to the ground, stomp it out,
and finish my excuse (a whiskey on the rocks).
i continue my path onto the "grounds"
(on open mic night i can pay for my drinks with a song)
sliding open the side door
and shaking miscellaneous hands,
it's hard to remember why
i still come here every monday.

when they call my name:
i play the stupid songs.
i sing the stupid words.
i bleed for all the people
who've come in hopes
of a public execution.
saying "thanks for your time,"
and not one of their's for mine;
i tip my drink back and catch her glance
with eye contact fixed like a mirror's reflection.

out back, She approaches and states
"tasting love through the ears is painful"
(i debate, compliment or insult)
comforting Her with a drink, i had to ask
"then, do You like to hurt?"

(adding "i like Your shoes"
as not to seem so low)

we stand by the fire,
breathing one another
rather than the city air;
speaking of suicide as an art
and my hands on Her body-
understanding Her words like braille.

in the morning we'll debate
which of us will pay for Her funeral.
But when the evening comes
I'll have made Her forever and eternal.

******************************************
you wonder where i go

would a simple heartbeat
change with the pulse of rejection;
dressed like secrets always dress
when they want you to know they're there.
and you get tired of being
down like a low-fi
trying to figure out how
the rims spins at the same
speed as the center.

and i see myself a lot like
those math problems, where
you get graded on the steps
and not the solution it brings you.
step-by-step, i can carry all
the ones, and cross out
all the nines. i can see the
reciprocals, and make them
whole and one, all throughout.

i did well in math, thanks
to problems like these.
step-by-step, i got point
after point; almost was
good enough, even though
i could never see the solution.
and i began to realise a
pattern where, step-by-step
i produce, but never get a product.

once, almost was good enough...

***********************************

whatever you want to title it...

it's opening time on discover street
hop in and we'll go down to the show,
riding like paper-airplane dreams
soaring through the wind.
we'll hide like doves in the clefts of rocks,
sitting on mountain sides,
watching the tide run over our stencils in the sand.

come on Baby, hop on in!
it's opening night on fascination street.
we'll drink shots of whiskey, and thrills of rails.
(because people make the best smiles when they're faking)
"i declare! the dead, who've already died,
are happer than those still alive!"
(we'll leave the dead dancing with their own...)

come on Sweetie, let's go for a ride...
i'm waiting for zombies to line the streets,
for the corpses to cover me with kisses,
with all music destroyed, we'll only make noise.
the static of the radio blasts while we cruise;
i just want to drive with my eyes closed,
waiting for the crash, just to feel blood run down my face.

(good-byes, are forever when you can't save yourself)

my optimistic side called in to work.
"hello, i've been self destructing again."