Thursday, July 30, 2009

oh look at you and that witty word play!

never understood the word understanding
stand under what?
what am i standing under that makes me like you
sympathetic to you?
why does sympathetic have pathetic in it
im similar to your pathetic
we stand under the same sky
underfell from it

sometimes things sound so good to me at the time...then i look at them later and say what the fuck? like this, for example

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

mental mechanics

when the cells have collected rust
and the spokes are sputtering
scraping and coughing
when the screws start to loosen
from their tight twists of contempt
and my lungs rattle out breaths
like old freight trains that i must believe in
i wonder if i will look into my eyes
polluted with experience
and decide that it was worth it.

to be a square is really being outside of the box when you think about it

im looking for a different bend
to these curves that follow me
so i might make a box
to contain these thoughts
and open up when
im circled, sick, and spinning
when the beginning is just the end
when i feel surrounded
and hollow at the center,
the lift of a lid
will stretch my shapes

i know unspindle is not a word, just sounded cool to me

if you let my voice unspindle
the fibers of your muscles
crack the marrow from your bones
make your organs fall at your feet
if you let it spill your spine
tear your tendons
curl your nerves
and crush your eyes
then im not very interested.

sometimes i feel like i can do anything..but other times..

ah but see the flame is too bright
it must be squished with a heel
must be blown out by other's breath
should be metallically contained
restricted by a rope
stomped, smashed, and spat out
before these burning ideas
blaze the hills into early sunrise
should be
drowned by everything
but not by you, but not by you
of course.

in pain or ecstacy

when the pills pop up my spine
disintegrate down
bones intertwined
my back hooks in rebellion
refuses to be in line
the bones slump and dissolve
and around this the stars revolve
in this selfish time of youth
until my back can't bear
my choices anymore.

Friday, July 17, 2009

i really wanted to be a mermaid

High on the rock, above the waves,
Coaxing the sailors to water filled graves,
The siren sings her solo part.
Neither the rhythm nor yet the sound
Are the waters in which the bearer is drowned
As testimony to her art.
She sings far more than a sailor can hear.
He listens once with a cynical ear
And once with an innocent heart.
Poets and writers desire such skill:
That sirenlike we work our will
On every reader's ear and heart.
-Jane Yolen

A mermaid found a swimming lad,
picked him for her own,
pressed her body, laughed;
and plunging down
forgot in cruel happiness
that even lovers drown.
-W.B. Yeats / "The Mermaid"


living in 2D

Your time is a piƱata full of sand
that the past bashes at with rue
sifting through fingers and hands
its sparkle beaten out by a bat at you
status becomes the demand
no longer candy or a fake tattoo
but taxes and the value of land
that vary with the latitude.

love is what we never fully understand
when the heart reaches out in gratitude
it is beyond the dimension in which we stand
but people try to make it flat for you.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Getting My Palms Read

I tear off crescents 
from my finger nails,
watch moons fall at my feet.
I create freckled constellations
from the sun.
I destroy my own layers
with smoke & tanned vanity.
I have knuckled boulders
& peeling doubts,
crevices & paths
that might tell me something about life.
Underneath there are
rivers, a civilization
with hidden functions.
All this for
only me & what I see,
boxed in this skin of mine
housing my verse's within.
My own system,
a universe inside.

.Laura Curren.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

I'm very half assed about things sometimes. but sometimes I'm very full assed. not about things with grades or credits or check marks.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

now i can see your pain, i'm sorry

If I ask about it, you will probably explain it to me much better in person. but when i read it, my mind warps it into some kind of analytical trap. aren't i worth staying here for? I feel that you want me to stay. I see it when you look at me, but your words tell me something else. It's strange because most of the people that I've really loved have been all talk. but you're all action. Since the day you got back, squeezed me and lingered at my door, I knew what you meant. but when you wrote it all out, I became confused. when you told me what kind of glue your mind was in. what kind of a bind. a bind you want to run from. cross borders and break hearts for. all those things you're feeling? I feel them too.