My feet are numb
And today, I don't care
This ice cracks beneath me
As I test its stability
"Can you hold my weight!?"
It cannot
But fortunate to me, it is only the ice on the grass
The lake is the future
Wind whipping a smiling face
Hands grip the chain of the swing
Lost feeling in those an hour ago
But my face will never go
Muscles being warmed with every syllable
Ice will makes boys out of men
Monday, December 29, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
Caroling
Ding, It's that time of year again
No, not Christmas
The part that comes after
The giving is gone, the food finished
The Salvation Army has packed up their bells
Scrooge goes back to bed with a greedy smile
The companies pat their bellies with the good tides of consumers
What is left but cold
And the soon to come New Year
Where people begin to forget the past year
In a blur of bottles and a giant glowing ball
Should I quake with the implied difference I am expected to feel?
Resolutions meant to start revolution
Should not of have had that last drink
I already forgot my promises
No, not Christmas
The part that comes after
The giving is gone, the food finished
The Salvation Army has packed up their bells
Scrooge goes back to bed with a greedy smile
The companies pat their bellies with the good tides of consumers
What is left but cold
And the soon to come New Year
Where people begin to forget the past year
In a blur of bottles and a giant glowing ball
Should I quake with the implied difference I am expected to feel?
Resolutions meant to start revolution
Should not of have had that last drink
I already forgot my promises
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Hexagonal
Perfect six-fold symmetry collides with my face
These Kama-kazi crystals ruined by the heat of my breath
But soon they work together
First reaching my knees in collective organization
Numbing my feet as a traverse like a lead statue
Trying to hide inside myself
I haven't seen the sky in days
And with every attempt, my eyes are ambushed
Body heat failing, lips the perfect purple
Come find me when the Spring commits the murder
Of solid to liquid and to eventually gas
These Kama-kazi crystals ruined by the heat of my breath
But soon they work together
First reaching my knees in collective organization
Numbing my feet as a traverse like a lead statue
Trying to hide inside myself
I haven't seen the sky in days
And with every attempt, my eyes are ambushed
Body heat failing, lips the perfect purple
Come find me when the Spring commits the murder
Of solid to liquid and to eventually gas
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Stop me if you've heard this one
The two drink minimum
Perhaps it is to make the comedian
More enjoyable then they really are
Or maybe, it is the create an illusion
The comedian speaks the truth
A truth the average human does not understand
All the roosters and all the hens
cross roads with a second take
Look past the joke and see existence in its very essence is comedy
Perhaps it is to make the comedian
More enjoyable then they really are
Or maybe, it is the create an illusion
The comedian speaks the truth
A truth the average human does not understand
All the roosters and all the hens
cross roads with a second take
Look past the joke and see existence in its very essence is comedy
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Disection
Let the records show the subject is exposed:
He blinks because he is programmed
His heart beats off tempo
He dreams because he is simple
He dreams because he is complex
His handshakes are weak because he fears aggression
The same is said of his kiss
A human must crave desire
An animal must crave desire
His lips are chapped
His eyesight poor
His mind is grabbing hold of color and word and image
And like the soldier facing opposition of tenfold
Desperately tries to finally become immortal
He blinks because he is programmed
His heart beats off tempo
He dreams because he is simple
He dreams because he is complex
His handshakes are weak because he fears aggression
The same is said of his kiss
A human must crave desire
An animal must crave desire
His lips are chapped
His eyesight poor
His mind is grabbing hold of color and word and image
And like the soldier facing opposition of tenfold
Desperately tries to finally become immortal
Monday, December 15, 2008
Dear
Mr. Songwriter
Your words, though spoken in some foreign city
Become relevant or even more distant
Let it be the next sappy love song
I can apply to a new sweetheart
Or the tearing of the sinews
Of your sung tragedy
Mr. Artist
Your brush strokes or your editing
Make me want to weep
Or rip the very canvas from the wall
Wishing to never blink as to view ever after
Or gouge out my eyes to never see again
Ms. Writer
Your pen scribbles stain the paper
With words of metaphorical genius
Or callused irony shredding my brain
Makes me want to dog ear this page
Or burn the manuscripts to forever rid
Your words, though spoken in some foreign city
Become relevant or even more distant
Let it be the next sappy love song
I can apply to a new sweetheart
Or the tearing of the sinews
Of your sung tragedy
Mr. Artist
Your brush strokes or your editing
Make me want to weep
Or rip the very canvas from the wall
Wishing to never blink as to view ever after
Or gouge out my eyes to never see again
Ms. Writer
Your pen scribbles stain the paper
With words of metaphorical genius
Or callused irony shredding my brain
Makes me want to dog ear this page
Or burn the manuscripts to forever rid
Sunday, December 14, 2008
First Stones
The way I pound the door
Is the way boxers desperately battle
Bruises erupt like the tears of shattered lovers
The running water is burning cold
How can such a slew of words
Be the slingshot of the first, cast stone
Pebbles may be pebbles
But in an avalanche of this magnitude
Those minor stones become bullets
Is the way boxers desperately battle
Bruises erupt like the tears of shattered lovers
The running water is burning cold
How can such a slew of words
Be the slingshot of the first, cast stone
Pebbles may be pebbles
But in an avalanche of this magnitude
Those minor stones become bullets
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Scalpel please?
Please doctor
Amputate everything I've known
I don't want a mere phantom limb
I want the ghost of a former self
Take this artificial contraption
Put something with a pulse
I want to bleed like normal
Not in dam breaking manner
These faulty valves were not gauged properly
I taste rust in my mouth
Amputate everything I've known
I don't want a mere phantom limb
I want the ghost of a former self
Take this artificial contraption
Put something with a pulse
I want to bleed like normal
Not in dam breaking manner
These faulty valves were not gauged properly
I taste rust in my mouth
Friday, December 12, 2008
Cheers
My glass is half empty
Yours is half full
Why don't we just come together
and overflow this damned cliche
The chime of contact
How sad of a sound
Half-hearted wrists
Limply strive for a reason
The new year is upon us
And Ben Gibbards' word ring truer
Then anything I've ever heard before.
Yours is half full
Why don't we just come together
and overflow this damned cliche
The chime of contact
How sad of a sound
Half-hearted wrists
Limply strive for a reason
The new year is upon us
And Ben Gibbards' word ring truer
Then anything I've ever heard before.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Send Out Signal
Frantically tap the keys
I haven't heard a thing in years
Just a gentle fuzz
Like that of security
Except this is a horror film
Something has, and still going wrong
Oh yeah, there were others here
But you know how that goes
Or should I say how they go
It's really been uneventful
Keep trying different batteries
Nothings taking well
Some die right up
Some corrode right through
No one is responding
I haven't even heard one cry of names
Search parties too old school?
Big game must be on again
Am I blind or was a dark, secluded, creaking, rotting, and deserted home the single greatest idea we've ever had?
Guys?
(Would you stop breathing down my neck?
I get it, okay?
Killer monster thing.
Whatever.)
I haven't heard a thing in years
Just a gentle fuzz
Like that of security
Except this is a horror film
Something has, and still going wrong
Oh yeah, there were others here
But you know how that goes
Or should I say how they go
It's really been uneventful
Keep trying different batteries
Nothings taking well
Some die right up
Some corrode right through
No one is responding
I haven't even heard one cry of names
Search parties too old school?
Big game must be on again
Am I blind or was a dark, secluded, creaking, rotting, and deserted home the single greatest idea we've ever had?
Guys?
(Would you stop breathing down my neck?
I get it, okay?
Killer monster thing.
Whatever.)
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Doo-Khaki
These spotless shoes are filthy
A healthy dose of callus' greet me every evening
Does one look for a new pair?
Look at the variety!
Look at this gaudy plethora of options!
Must I test this ones stamina?
Will this match my personality?
I bend down to tug my tattered laces
But alas my fingers are tangled
Mangled if you will exaggerate
These shoes will keep on treading
Until the soles decide to sleep
A healthy dose of callus' greet me every evening
Does one look for a new pair?
Look at the variety!
Look at this gaudy plethora of options!
Must I test this ones stamina?
Will this match my personality?
I bend down to tug my tattered laces
But alas my fingers are tangled
Mangled if you will exaggerate
These shoes will keep on treading
Until the soles decide to sleep
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Toobin'
This life preserver doesn't feel right
So white, so bright
Yet so dark in these waves
Bobbing around
Awaiting rescue
It's not the sharks that get you
but that cold, sinking feeling
So white, so bright
Yet so dark in these waves
Bobbing around
Awaiting rescue
It's not the sharks that get you
but that cold, sinking feeling
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
Mercury
The down trodden-face
Accepting yet relentless for a different answer
A sweat stained steering wheel of trips past
The speakers fizz with every beat
Where are we going
No signs, no remaining distance
Just cracking glass and
the draining of work
Chapped lips and
A hoarse voice come well equipped
The phone was purposely drained
But its presence ever needed
The sound of hot concrete
Waves of tortured road
Contacts are drying up
but becoming wet even more
Accepting yet relentless for a different answer
A sweat stained steering wheel of trips past
The speakers fizz with every beat
Where are we going
No signs, no remaining distance
Just cracking glass and
the draining of work
Chapped lips and
A hoarse voice come well equipped
The phone was purposely drained
But its presence ever needed
The sound of hot concrete
Waves of tortured road
Contacts are drying up
but becoming wet even more
Friday, November 7, 2008
ANALOGY TIME
Life is like swimming in a pool with friends
Light hearted chatter
The sun warming the water
Floating in the ripples of a man made sea
Weightless
Thoughtless
Boundless
Calmness
Then someone picks up a pool noodle
And with a leap through the air
Home runs your face with colorful hurt
Who knew foam could be so painful
Light hearted chatter
The sun warming the water
Floating in the ripples of a man made sea
Weightless
Thoughtless
Boundless
Calmness
Then someone picks up a pool noodle
And with a leap through the air
Home runs your face with colorful hurt
Who knew foam could be so painful
Monday, November 3, 2008
Cocoa for kookoo puffs
Where am I?
"Please quiet down"
How can you hear me?
"Get your hand out of your face"
What? My hand is by my side, sweating and clutching.
"Please be respectful"
How can I when I feel ridiculous?
"Use your inside voice"
How can I not when it's in my head?
"Calm down, sir"
Wow I'm about to start fuming in here
"No smoking please"
(Got you there, bub)
(Bub? Really?)
"Please quiet down"
How can you hear me?
"Get your hand out of your face"
What? My hand is by my side, sweating and clutching.
"Please be respectful"
How can I when I feel ridiculous?
"Use your inside voice"
How can I not when it's in my head?
"Calm down, sir"
Wow I'm about to start fuming in here
"No smoking please"
(Got you there, bub)
(Bub? Really?)
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Sucktoberfest
Blow out your candles!
Grab your mask!
Take my hand!
We'll burn it down!
Break out the coats!
Get your scooter!
Close your eyes!
Learn to fly!
Break the damn!
Collect yourself!
Run your mouth!
It's almost over!
(That can't be safe)
(At least he's getting out)
Grab your mask!
Take my hand!
We'll burn it down!
Break out the coats!
Get your scooter!
Close your eyes!
Learn to fly!
Break the damn!
Collect yourself!
Run your mouth!
It's almost over!
(That can't be safe)
(At least he's getting out)
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
How to fly
Teeth clenched
Foot stomping
Fist tightened
Eyes blank
Noise maddening
Throat swelling
Skin shrinking
Always waiting
Foot stomping
Fist tightened
Eyes blank
Noise maddening
Throat swelling
Skin shrinking
Always waiting
Monday, October 27, 2008
Your A Little Off
"What's going through your mind?"
An idea, slowly dragging, floating
No legs, no heart. no eyes, but blinking
Like looking at a reflection on glass
Mirrored yet translucent
It makes this noise
Like fingernails on a guitar string
Throbbing to a horrific beat
Someone please turn him down
Eventually it'll blossom into something beautiful, or something even worse
You win some, you lose some
An idea, slowly dragging, floating
No legs, no heart. no eyes, but blinking
Like looking at a reflection on glass
Mirrored yet translucent
It makes this noise
Like fingernails on a guitar string
Throbbing to a horrific beat
Someone please turn him down
Eventually it'll blossom into something beautiful, or something even worse
You win some, you lose some
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Smear Me Dear
Graphite rubbed into palms
Paint staining the skin
Eyes fatigued, sensitive
Colors turn grey
Pixels burning out
Is this a mesh or a gradient
Tutorials lead only to walls
Or nowhere at all
They need keyboard shortcuts for this
(They do, it's called ctrl+ alt+ dlt)
(If you even consider listening to him make sure to hit cmnd + s first)
Friday, October 24, 2008
Scents of Humor
It's ironic it's called chicken scratch
Who knew it would take this much courage to write a letter
Excuse the mess
I placed grass and dirt from that place we hung out in this envelope
Perfume doesn't make me think of you
It might be the old cigarettes and chlorine
Whoever invented the seals on envelopes
Knew how to skew even the prettiest face
("Mr. Cougar, Mr Owl; What causes the ability of the substance on stamps to cause the chemical bonding strength of the adhesive to be engaged by saliva?")
("Something about beetles, or that look she's giving me. Let's ask wikipedia!")
("Where are your parents?")
Who knew it would take this much courage to write a letter
Excuse the mess
I placed grass and dirt from that place we hung out in this envelope
Perfume doesn't make me think of you
It might be the old cigarettes and chlorine
Whoever invented the seals on envelopes
Knew how to skew even the prettiest face
("Mr. Cougar, Mr Owl; What causes the ability of the substance on stamps to cause the chemical bonding strength of the adhesive to be engaged by saliva?")
("Something about beetles, or that look she's giving me. Let's ask wikipedia!")
("Where are your parents?")
Sploosh
6 a.m. is a beautiful time.
The perfect mirrored lake, the reflection of the skies and trees, suspending the visual in infinity.
"Two skips."
The fog hangs as the trapeze artist.
The insects rub their weary eyes and traffic to their routine.
"Six skips!"
"That was only four!"
Clean air Chicago residents wouldn't believe.
Clean air we don't even believe.
"You have to make the rock hit parallel, like this."
We are the fish who don't have to worry about the fisherman
(When you throw a lot of rocks, it sounds like machine-gun fire, HOORAH)
The perfect mirrored lake, the reflection of the skies and trees, suspending the visual in infinity.
"Two skips."
The fog hangs as the trapeze artist.
The insects rub their weary eyes and traffic to their routine.
"Six skips!"
"That was only four!"
Clean air Chicago residents wouldn't believe.
Clean air we don't even believe.
"You have to make the rock hit parallel, like this."
We are the fish who don't have to worry about the fisherman
(When you throw a lot of rocks, it sounds like machine-gun fire, HOORAH)
Thursday, October 23, 2008
To Begin Proves Progress
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