A sunset and a carcrash
A teardrop son drips below the hills
Exhaling rockstar purple and pharaoh gold
The brown world cools beneath my body
Glinting like a dust covered discoball
A ford mustang is crumpled against the guardrail
A child's shoe sits in the dirt unlaced
A perverted river of highway winds it's way to the sea
I lick the last drops of sweet perspiration from an empty soda bottle
And wait for the dark
if the worlds gonna end then let's get it over with, i got shit to do
This night is filled with static
Staring at a computer screen
Pornography, nothing but noise and an imagined stench
Eyes blank and filled with static
No trace of connection
With the flesh
Except the electric kind
I listen to sad songs and wonder if they would be better if I smoked a cigarette at the same time
Synthetic, the morphine drip signal gradually gets weaker
The most lonely voices are the ones I hope to hear but fall asleep before a chance comes
Manufactured cancer pumping through my brain like air from an iron lung
In the room next door an old woman coughs and sputters in her sleep
Mumbles a subconscious prayer
Holding on, fingers dug deep into the ground
Pulled away one slowing heartbeat at a time
All the christmas trees were pulled down yesterday from all the yards in the neighborhood
They were getting old and brown and angry looking anyway
Beginning to look like scarecrows in the snow or mini-crucifixes a symbol which of course is for saved easter
The crows already left this party and I didn’t feel like following in their tiny shadows
A vicious snicker bounces on the ceiling for a second
So very clever…
I pat myself on the boney spine
So very clever, the words I try and puke up
If I told my thoughts are like a bulimics lunch
Would you be more interested?
Whatever I said that sounded so clever bubbling up from a well of insomnia
Will seem like self indulgent snickering come morning
I’m still here because I know nobody will miss me if I’m gone
So very clever…
So can any of you fading voices tell me why when I listen to my deepest murmurs there is only static?
if the worlds gonna end then let's get it over with, i got shit to do
Very good. A well painted picture!
I can only hope you do not feel this way.
All that's left of what we were is what we have become.
uch I don't really remember writing that poem, I remember something writing something but last night I was kinda in a fugue...
if the worlds gonna end then let's get it over with, i got shit to do
Supermarket Jazz
There is a supermarket
That I go to
Sometimes
When I'm out of meat or milk
Or vegetables in cans
And at this supermarket
Constantly floating lazily from the ceiling which has state flags hanging down from it's rafters
Is music
A sort of watered down jazz
Gentrified friendly cold swinging like a corpse with a rope around it's neck
I music could be seen there would be a sign around its neck reading
"I stopped spinning at 45 revolutions per minute 4 or 3 revolutions ago
Watered down jazz
Humming along to a tune that ought to be a funeral march
Jazz is dead jazz is dead
Who am I to lament the death of jazz?
With my falloutboy t-shirt and wannabe rock & roll bad attitude that I got out of a cereal box
Jazz is dead
And the elderly people who listened to it
Are dropping like bloated parasites off the rotten piece of fruit earth that they started the long dig down into
50 cents a pound of flesh yum yum
The supermarket with it's tabloids for sale near the register
And it's pyramid of 6-packs proudly displayed for those of us over 21 years old
If that store starts playing Smells Like Teen Spirit or My Generation
For the accountants and the houswives
the I hope I die of food poisoning from the can of pickled oysters I hold the way a mujahadeen holds a grenade
Ah the grocery store, grandest invention of modern man killing millions with cigarettes and processed food
Gun crimes don't hold a candle to this murderous complacency
Silent gathering place of this not so new world order
Swat team ordering me to put down the bad bad oysters before I do something I regret
Regret?!
You just don't want me to projectile vomit all over you Mr pOliceman
Unfortunately for you vomiting is what I do
There is a store every few miles from every house on every street
Everyone is an employee of some kind of supermarket
Feeding the economy towards it's inevitable imaginary heart attack
Well, with the amount of hyper survival provided
Some good little boys and girls might say "thank god for the supermarket!"
But I think deep down in their unhungry hearts which sit on glass shelves waiting to be snatched up
The real thought which is thought
While leafing through people magazine at the express checkout and eying the candy
Is
"Thank supermarket for god!"
if the worlds gonna end then let's get it over with, i got shit to do
well here a corrupyted variation on "where have all the flowers gone?" by pete seeger, I have used it 2 describe my contempt with pop music
Where have all the rockstars gone?
An elegy for rock & roll
Where have all the rockstars gone, long time passing?
Where have all the rockstars gone, long time ago?
Where have all the rockstars gone?
Record Companies and overdoses picked them off one by one
Oh, when will the radio stations ever learn?
And where will the youth now turn?
Where have all the Guitars gone, long time passing?
Where have all the Guitars gone, long time ago?
Where have all the Guitars gone?
Gone for synthesizers everyone
Nobody needs any skills to hone
They just need protunes and a microphone
Where have all the groupies gone, long time passing?
Where have all the groupies gone, long time ago?
Where have all the groupies gone?
Gone for husbands then divorces, one by one
Responsibility grown with age and the threat of aids
And it makes me ever so sad
Where have all the punk rockers gone, long time passing?
Where have all the punk rockers gone, long time ago?
Where have all the punk rockers gone?
Gone for rappers, everyone.
Gone for the complacency of pop and teenyboppers
Gone for electronics, every would-be sid and nancy
Gone for gizmos slick and fancy
Where have all the records gone, long time passing?
Where have all the CDs gone, long time ago?
Where have all the albums gone?
Gone to bargain bins one by one
Gone for singles and computers, everyone.
Where have all the rockstars gone, long time passing?
Where have all the rockstars gone, long time ago?
Where have all the rockstars gone?
Gone for greatest hits compilations one by one
Record Companies and overdoses picked them off one by one
Oh, when will the radio stations ever learn?
And where will the youth now turn?
if the worlds gonna end then let's get it over with, i got shit to do
I fear
I fear sometime
That in the years and lifetimes to come
I will forget
The feeling of dirt between my toes
The sound of wind in the tall grass
The electric clarity of new love
The taste of fresh bread
And the warmth of spring rain on my head
I fear
That my fingers will slip away from all the hands that I hold near
That I will never speak a word that matters again after I speak one that does
And that I might waste my one important word
That I will give in to the lies
(There are true american atheists, we believe in money don't we?)
I fear
That in 20 year the only thing that will matter to me is making sure I'm well prepared for that day I stop fearing
But for now
I am content
To listen to a voice in the darkness and not be afraid
if the worlds gonna end then let's get it over with, i got shit to do
Orpheus are you still dancing?
Because if you are then you should continue dancing so you don’t see what we have become with out your music
There isn’t much left around here
The houses are all for sale
The stores closed or unwilling to hire me because they will soon be
Like the people we are so quick to call ancient heathens some of us are finally seeing how silly our rituals are
It’s closing time across the western empire
Last call for chemicals before we lock you in with nothing but yourself and your fantasies
It’s closing time across the western empire
The automobiles squeal out of the city just like chariots with burning wheels
Well I walk around all day looking for something to say
Coming up with rhymes and imagining crimes that I have yet to commit
The dust blows across my feet
Swirling dirty little galaxies
I like to pretend we’re all gods but don’t know it yet
I squeeze a piece of fruit in my left hand
Looking up at the streetlamps lightless and cowering before the sun
And I think of Orpheus that old Greek flautist
And how after he saw his love crumble
He descended back into the underworld
To play his flute and dance with the dead
Where the living could not hear
I think of Orpheus as Apollo burns overhead
I spit sweet pink pomegranate seeds into the gutter
And continue walking
if the worlds gonna end then let's get it over with, i got shit to do
Way out past where the highway trickles off
And the under cooked raw hamburger red desert is bitter
And you can no longer hear the false breath of semi trucks because the machines have run out of breath
The real air inhales deeply rattling my teeth
Is that the sound of death I hear?
Or some inconsolable animal raging at the mean blue skies
When winter ends I worry I may have forgotten how to experience warmth
No, death is not the sound I fear
For I know that everyone turns to stone first
They will find me here among shells and petrified cacti
In a thousand years
Holding the limestone hand I cut from a one time lover’s arm in my own marble grip
By then even this place will have given up and turned into the edge of a hard beach
And I will lie in cracked chunks along the shore line
They will find me here
A failed sculpture
Reaching for the ocean I knew I would one day crumble into
if the worlds gonna end then let's get it over with, i got shit to do
We built the fire at sundown from the ashes of the past and ghosts of forgotten flames
Heaping our burnt lips onto the coals without saying any silver goodbyes
The fat of our hearts and the flesh of the land
All of it: fuel
From the ashes of our futures and from the embers of a fevered tomorrow
We built the fire at sunset and we built it hot and fast
Shovel in your first kiss side by side with your last
Shovel in history and shovel in mystery
Shovel in sadness and shovel in madness
All of it: fuel
We built the fire at dusk as a beacon to signal stars
We built the fire at sunset because we hoped to return to former brightness
Then we danced, jumped, snarled and fucked our way through every last crystallized drop of heat
All of it: fuel
And when you, me and the sun finally yawn and raise golden arms over the crumpled sheets of the horizon
We will see the ashes all in a single sad heap, devoid of glory
And we will remember
At midnight we burned bright
if the worlds gonna end then let's get it over with, i got shit to do
wow.
fucking hell, you're good...
Time spent with cats is never wasted.
"And when you, me and the sun finally yawn and raise golden arms over the crumpled sheets of the horizon"
Love this line...great ending!
All that's left of what we were is what we have become.
Well, I shall be checking this thread often to have a gander at your work. It really is brilliant - so expect many more ego boosts.
Time spent with cats is never wasted.
Love the new member title, my man. Member titles always interest me.
All that's left of what we were is what we have become.
"I left my wood paneling"
Whatever will they do for a wall covering?
All that's left of what we were is what we have become.
The following…
As I wander through the woods
(deep and dark and deep and dark and deep and dark goes the primal chant that mother used to sing at bedtime)
Knuckles freezing
Fingernails about to shatter
Waiting to catch a lightning flash on my tongue like a child licking at common snowflakes which I ignore
A crow snickers at me
HA HA HA
For he knows what scheme I am truly cooking
That crow ought to be tapdancing on asphalt
He belongs to the city more than me
Neither me nor my friend the crow should be here in the forest
(deep and dark and deep and dark and deep and dark goes the primal chant that mother used to sing at bedtime)
They are only so far ahead of me now
Figures in black suits carrying my empty coffin above their heads
I see them
Branches scraping at my oak lid
I want to catch up with them
And tell them to hold on just a minute while I climb in for my long expected rest
My friend the crow will sit on the lid before the earth is shoveled on it
Frozen earth wrestled from the mountain
And relocated to cover up the truth
(deep and dark and deep and dark and deep and dark goes the primal chant that mother used to sing at bedtime)
if the worlds gonna end then let's get it over with, i got shit to do
oh, that's wonderful.
To begin with, it vaguely reminds me of robert frost - stopping by woods on a snowy evening, but, of course...it's completely different. It just made me think of it, and that's one of my all time favourite poems.
Time spent with cats is never wasted.
Glad you like it, I wrote it a long time ago and I think the vibe I was trying (n I think succeeded with) was like early 20th century imagist verse gone gothic
I'm actually going through some of my older writing today so I'll probably post some more pretty soon
if the worlds gonna end then let's get it over with, i got shit to do
and heres one now
Cannibalized poem # 5
All my songs are plagiarized
From men who sing about dead skies and golden thighs
Kurt Colbain said “throw me In the fire and I won’t throw a fit”
And the real tragedy is that nobody would do it for him
I have never loved non-machines
All my wet dreams are pixilated empty screens
I share no body heat
With people who succeed in setting themselves on fire daily
I don’t even have the nerve
To slit my own brain
If you shout one too many times
Until your voice is ember and ash
Even that will seem mundane
All my flowers are dead
And the aphids are in mourning
Everything important has been said and not by me
I ate a rose
Wanting to force my throat to spew something worthwhile
But all I got
Was a Freudian nightmare prophecy last night
In it: a pink fetus, blob of flesh
Was passed around in a circle by heavy breathing septuagenarians
Buzzards caressing it in the worst way
The old killers put it back in the sleeping young mother to be
The damage done early
They chuckled
That’s enough to get me blacklisted by mothers everywhere
Every generation of kids
Wants to outdo their parents
And give up destroying themselves earlier
After a valiant attempt at oblivion and the creation of a few wild eyed martyrs
The rose I tried to swallow had it’s thorns removed by someone whoe cares
Those kids, before they start
Denying they’ll give up
But well before the ruinous seeds are planted
Are told how big and cruel the world is
But actually childhood is much more blatantly nasty
Mountainous walls of unattainable candy
You get beaten up for lunch money and you NEED those grades
Remind me why again?
Because for me
Now that I’m over the cavity mountains
All I see is flatland
And
Circling
Buzzards
And that last doozy of a drop
Into the gulf
A bubble existence filled with reflections
I’m not strong enough to smash the glass
I lust for disease
Contaminate me please
Kick my teeth in for a forced clown smile
I can’t BE
Not in my grandfathers’ suit and tie eventually die, teach your children well, real men don’t cry world
So I’m begging you to rape my heart even though it might freeze off you tits
‘cause I’m afraid I’ll survive another one of these fits
All I want is for someone to look at
Without feeling
That I’m on the wrong side of a moat at the zoo
And that I’m scribbling on the wall of a cave
if the worlds gonna end then let's get it over with, i got shit to do
That last one is friggin' brilliant!!!
I love this line from the previous poem; "Knuckles freezing
Fingernails about to shatter"
All that's left of what we were is what we have become.