winter is a brewing

winter is brewing like coffee stains on your ratty jeans & jet black oil paint splattered not on the canvas, instead, the rug, and i'm okay with that, and as are you, and the bruises were formed within the closets but now are fading too
doo boop be doop

i'm not going to lie

sometimes i miss you because i can
miss revolutionary roads & i'll never
miss your kisses because I never would
let it go that far but i will miss your
bed even though i've slept in many that
were much nicer but I will miss the pills

and then I think of you the afterward of revolutionary road
and sometimes i'll miss your cock even though the pills had
it not working too good, sometimes ill miss how pretty you
thought i was, because i really do think you looked at me
like i was the prettiest
and sometimes ill miss us being sid & nancy
but i know i can never go back.
neither can you.

but sometimes i do think it'd be nice to carry on an affair, secretive
of all the world to see but i dont think ill ever find someone
special enough for that again.
besides, i love bobby.

haikus brought on by a forced fed seating waiting for the iphone

& what is this life?
pixelated screens running
alternate realities

communication
veiled like a widowed bride now
held in masses hands

a priest destiny
consist of combining his


soothsayers dream on
material items will not
fulfill yr black voids

instead, marketing
filled with euphoric dreams
will mask the landscape

chosen as backgrounds
or perhaps, a quick photo
taken to feel free

once, a lover said
placate the masses my dear
this is whats become

& what is this life?
1200 gathered for phones
in suburbia

avoiding real screams
locked in treasure chest
buried deep in hearts

the departure of you drags on similar to tulips
or rather, two lips pressed against a cigarette.

cradled in between, the smoke or firey flame or something
each passing of a breath means the loss of colour and stature and feet on the ground
each shadow overpowering the ground and its illuminosity

holding on to a fastening silence seatbelt in place
hands entertwined on miraculouos days
hot coffee lurking in a belly filled with regret
through a wired mine field of lock jaw

surfing through you now, no secrets to discover, just some pixel dreams

cyber shifting bits
eatings away at yr eyes
break away, please !

digging through the dirt
of cyber space man made dreams
no words, just clutter

digging through the dirt
no sunflowers are grown here
instead, pixel dreams

lushworker bites soul
scavenger pleads for no more
its a no win here

it's a sticky muddy feeling tonight, caught on the tongue and in the cracks between the teeth. it's been that way of a late, with words anyway. senses have shifted, adjustments have been made.
things arent good but things are definitely not bad.

the words are lost i guess.

dont know why we go back when its time to progress & we are almost there

it's brake - not break

flip the lid on the side of the tray charcoal grays transcend the mood
water down yr throat but your not finished yet.
create disassemble reattach mark the heart or perhaps detach the heart mind body soul stop trying so hard just do
i should tell myself the same thing....



catching butterflies on tongues of slippery things; with a heart thumping out of its throat you grab one,

ready set edit

lead me towards the grandiose noise !
w/ a wet romantic ear attached to yr brainy nose
that was once kissed by the Egyptians who stood with honor,
whispering 'don't look into the eyes on the walls'
lurking in pieces of me and you through symbols that will long outlive silicon tits & men in black.....(outofplace)
yet the writings engraved full throttle at the neck of it all with the symbols choking the dog
but beyond it
you wore your crown of glory
y-y-yet i don't expect you to understand
love that was found through buffalo coined nickels
in 1929, you weren't even alive kid.
& still, the eggshells broken cost more then what it meant to be a spy

I saw you weeping beneath the willow tree:
tight ass, shriveled balls, coward in the corner, your a crybaby but daddys favourite toy don't you remember? go ahead, sip on another martini with the fuzzy dice hanging from the windshield blades. oh you, your so angelic with your ways. with the seat down & on it you wanted it all, but could anyone hear your sighs? & now you weep beneath the willow, dressed in womans clothes with a sense of urge for secrecy.
we're not fooled. and for the sasssy asquash who mad you mums pudding this ones to you
and for the one

Some are old

Well, all are old. Some may have not been posted (maybe though)

to the stump:
crawl out of yr roots / seep yr maple in my eyes / teach me green envy

to my buffalo:
where do yr souls roam / when wilder beast known as men / skinned yr hides for fun?


childhood:
damn the lies they told! / colour me in fairytales / ...gimme back my dreams

the skyline:
fuck you picasso / with yr blue phase you jaded / pink sunflower skies

skyline take 2:
a tramp on the run / blue reflects in her stale eyes / of whats yet to come

skyline take 3:
sea shore brings bottles / from long distance lost lovers / with paper thin notes

to a muse:
you told your disease / not faith in chaos she said / real eyez YR brilliant !

valleys & wind please
yes, thats whats to come of me
soon enough i'm free

cauliflower land
hiccuped through the valley
sway on, green envy

you bring the bullshit
i bring random hissy fits
lets create some hits !

don't play hide and seek
she echoed to the rambler
your my muse . . . really !


little girl echoes words:
1 more story of the west
then we get some rest

lemon breath you reek
of a bitter boy syndrome
you need sugar canes.

lemon aid takes two
parts sugar, one part lemon
care to join the mix?

i would have not went
if it wasnt for these writes
so thank you, goodnight

marriage is frugal:
we'll forget all the good parts
and become such bores

of westward daydreams,
i'm not sturdy like tree trunks
. . .my mind drifts likes leaves

green meadow hop along
perhaps rewind to sad songs
now that you are gone

my twilight reader
true, the stars move yr calm soul
i cant be yr vamp.

frigid cold wind breeze
sand in toes, you sing to me
the song of the sea

so i'll move out west
and perhaps be a poor bore
at least theres no chores !

oh, boo forever
i'm always star gazing now
lost in translation?

once upon a dream

i mean i had to get past the whole "my girl is in a loving relationship with him" thing-- but its really cool now!

round 2

back again so soon? he sneers. i thought i had my way with you already...
yes.
this is me versus the machine.
this is me standing at 121 pounds, against a 3 pound object. a different battle, yet the similarities are mind bending.

i sit, pressing my fingertips to the robots fingertips in order to spell out a word, conduct a sentence. these are not just symbols anymore.
this is me not memorizing the keys and using a direct stream of conscious.
this is me, possibly boring (or rather, too rational for my self liking)
this is my first attempt at attempting to control my phsyiological methods of perception, in the most basic of forms, through my senses.
i'm at war with the symbols and machine (the robot in front of me) which i let dictate many aspects of my life.

chomp on it and get back to me please

strange how natural it feels to fall asleep beside a lovers skin and bones. nothing is put on the shelf or hidden away: instead, all is out to be explored and learned . its pure and its raw & i remember a conversation with a friend once, discussing the measurement of love, and 1) how can we measure it if we have never truly known it? 2) how can anyone compare their love, since we all have different experiences / perceptions? it is an interesting concept that comes back to me from time to time. I know from my standards what i observe, perceive, aknowledge, understand, take in, digest, and so forth. but what about through anothers eyes? it is a bit exciting to know that even if i make an attempt to perceive the world through anothers eyes and mind frame, i will really never have any clue what they are thinking, because we have not had the same idential experiences. maybe, anyway.
thoughts anyone?

strange condition

it is indeed when the mind shifts . . . unlike the past, it has been an upward trend. go lizzys mind ! the market is finally shifting in an upward line. (sitting here, daydreaming of economics and my mind acting as some sort of flow mpr chart...if that is even what it is called)

i have not written in a long time, much of anything. instead, i've been discovering new albums put out by old bands. i've been reading little; more or less have only been stimulated through sound. re-learning all the words forgotten from an old cd, hearing new songs put out and trying to tap along to the beats (forgivemylackofrhythm) etc etc. i don't know where i was going with this .
---
watching through shifty eyes, you smoke yr cigarette, steady in hand, posture at a 90 degree angle. i sit, with poor posture to blame, blank slate yet curiously driven. awake and day dreaming thinking back to society and the media on a whole: baurillads (spelling?) theory on simulacra in fact: are all meanings really replaced now by symbols? have we little representation of the actual meaning? is everything surrounding us a mere artifact ? do words belong in a museum?

this year i would like to work on my use of words. i was never good with linguistics. i use words in all the wrong context, and it gets me in trouble (rather, people annoyed)

so, adieu lolz and plz and short term due to my lack of lazy typing. (maybe anyway)
hello actually reading, aknowledging in a timely fashion, and making an attempt to not be so god damn anti social and really listen.

other idea for this year is look at mostly positives. a chomsky quote i may have posted in here before, but good for this moment:

“Whether a person feels positive or not is kind of a comment on their personality and of no great interest. You can find positive signs or you can find negative signs. How you evaluate them depends on something that happened in your life recently or something like that. There's no objective way to do it. The important thing is you try to commit yourself to making the positive signs more real. Suppose you felt that there's 99 percent of a probability that human civilization is going to be destroyed in the next hundred years, but one percent chance it won't be, and that one percent offers some opportunities to do something. Well, you commit yourself to that one percent.” CHOMSKY.

leonard cohen reads beautiful losers

Beautiful Losers is what drove me to insanity. it's what drove me to writing for a bit. it drove me to a lot of strange compelling thoughts, etc.

(missing you at 10pm is a drag of a cigarette

strange now to think of you, plus two hundred miles away from what i call yr home. the oil paints drip off the loosely stretched canvas onto the 4 lonely sunflowers. the sunflowers sit, perched over & slouching a bit in a transparent vase as i await yr return. i too sit slouched over a bit, killing time by watching the hamsa dangle off my tiny wrist & staring at the letters on my screen. in defense of the evil eye i must say, even all the first edition bukowskis could not have this emotion stray away. & while the smell of turpentine lingers in my sheets i can't help but be reminded that two hundred minutes ago you had filled those sheets with yr tom ford cologne. all that is left is to sit slouching and waiting, while chain smoking the reds you left here for me.
and so i realize it is time to let it unfold.

(collection of memories )

sometimes i like to ramble cause i can

leave me with grandiose noise !
w/ a wet romantic ear attached to yr brainy nose
that was once kissed by the Egyptians
whispering 'don't look into the eyes on the walls'
symbols creating jibber jabber nonsense full throttle at the neck of it all
you wore your
y-y-yet i don't expect you to understand
love that was found through buffalo coined nickels
in 1929, you weren't even alive kid.
& still, the eggshells broken cost more then what it meant to be a spy

lets be other people

im writing to you. the creator telling you
or maybe
yr wrting to me
on how to be a new person
yet im stuck in old traps and yr a saint and i am finally fucking a saint 23 years its taken, or was it 29?
its a new journey.

old
& why did i stumble upon you? was the whole journey embarked to meet you? to write you this letter? to let (?) arise? nonexistances? should i accept all and connect nothing with this? im dampened in my paintines the oneS lying in the corner now....
what did they do to u
why did u ever arrive
do u keep past secrets hidden?
what do you avoid?
how did you let go of your past so easy?
is it so hard with me so its not spoken of?
im running towards my pen again
help me pick up the pieces
let me be yr cheerleader
sing me sad songs
let me conquer life so you too conquer life
will my insatiable curiousity starve me?
did it already?
why do you love me in my way?
how did u know?
am i too downhearted lately?
its because i miss you
no
its because i dont want to do this alone
only with you
i was waiting for yr arrival before i could ever write you these words
why is this all connecting so delicately?
yr teaching me how much i loathe my own self pity
no more self victim role for me
never fit quite right
for so long i was lost in ()
im found in yr arms now
wrapping me in the same shape as them

after i fucked you like you were some omnipotent creatore
a same of todays way
truisms were now revealed
moths still fly near the lights
neighbors are seen walking their dogs
birds begin to chirxp
all of lifes trivials trot on but you boby
you opened the light.
it was all a facade before.
i had to do this
delve into my own brain to realize this
before this my past was not real. my experiences were warped so id be ready for the benefits of you&me
when did you decide to love me?