I've been murdered
and every step is fire,
treading on
brand new asphalt
in the Grand Canyon.
All I want now is
a solid workout -
push-ups until my arms
no longer function,
until the only movement
I can manage is
a feeble thumbs up,
enough to tell
the forlorn paramedic
I forgive his lateness.
_________________________________________________
Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Xavier Rudd, Messages
"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly
Friday, February 7, 2014
Sunday, January 19, 2014
On the edge of a knife
Oxygen was only life
until some idiot
introduced it to jet fuel.
Now it is combustion,
a great trigger
waiting to be pulled
as it eases, quietly,
in and out of your lungs,
the breath of millions
clutched by a breeze.
And all it will take
is for one junkie
to scratch that itch,
turn that key,
press that button,
light that biggest match,
and what was life
will all be ruined -
will all be set to burn.
_________________________________________________
Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Jamie N Commons, Wish You Were Here
until some idiot
introduced it to jet fuel.
Now it is combustion,
a great trigger
waiting to be pulled
as it eases, quietly,
in and out of your lungs,
the breath of millions
clutched by a breeze.
And all it will take
is for one junkie
to scratch that itch,
turn that key,
press that button,
light that biggest match,
and what was life
will all be ruined -
will all be set to burn.
_________________________________________________
Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Jamie N Commons, Wish You Were Here
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
You won't even know I'm gone
| painting by Adam Lupton |
another body and a different mind,
a wire that stretched out to trip you,
trick you and keep you captivated
even though the future is impossible.
The waves that pulse through your brain
tell you things you don't want to hear -
things you can't bear to know are true -
the rules to a game you could never win
once the deck has been stacked so high.
And every day apart will feel empty,
and every day together will be worse,
a choice between pulling the arrow out
and letting it stay, blood and skin festering,
the phone ringing nightly - distant humming
of molecules as the temperature drops,
and the nightly summer rains will start snowing,
and the cold could snap July clean in half.
_________________________________________________
Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Blu, Vanity
Thursday, November 14, 2013
On flights of arrows, sharper than we'd been led to believe
| painting by Brad Phillips |
car crash, but a natural
disaster - you seep
into my brain and
poison all the ground,
and when poured into
the form of a cigarette,
you would be sweeter
than nicotine, but
just as cancerous.
_________________________________________________
From the most recent decomP, an excellent poem from Will Arbery.
And here, my friend Zach absolutely kills it.
_________________________________________________
Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Skyzoo, The Definitive Prayer
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