Fill In The Blanks

don’t ask me any questions
i have answers
but they won’t fit

don’t ask me how i know
i just do
as luck would have it

don’t make me have to explain
you’ll regret asking
i guarantee it

don’t worry about it too much
i know that’s a strong request
but you’ve got admit

It’s Overdue

a vow of silence

words mean nothing
when talking to The Void

The Void

barely listening
and only screaming in reply

decades of attempts have shown you why

you shouldn’t even try

and yet, you still keep

talking to The Void

and wondering why

you’re left frustrated & annoyed
with someone fluent in an alien tongue

someone who listens to what you say
but can only scream in reply

so why even try

when words mean nothing?

A Reading: Declaration of The Hill Dwellers

source post: Declaration Of The Hill Dwellers

You dare look me in the eye & say
the aged intensity of punk rock doesn’t smolder in my soul
That I don’t carry the torch of my fallen punk ancestors
Laid to rest by the 9 to 5
Spikes combed forward, ‘hawks brushed to the far left
lookin’ no good, no bueño
flown off to nowhere special.
Memories fade. Scribblings remain.

How Dare
You spit in my eye
as I walk down the aisle to claim the prize
The most damned prize so rightfully mine
of everlasting life & peace of mind
No price is right when the price hanging over my head, es
no good no bueño
Measured in wealth with no real value,
Chop it up thrice & serve it chilled sided with grilled
chopped heads of men & mice

How Dare
You poke me in the eye with sharp edges
from a bill you figured your generation would
have paid in full by now
Shoot daggers in my back, my shoulders buckle
under the weight of the price on my head
But behold this truth!
That the price is not mine! The price is not right!
It’s No Good, No Bueño!

That’s why I
Dare to fly northward &
onward & on & on
Gone that way, pulling the reverse switch
past 1992, past time
past the time of the No Good
Of whatever remains past the No Bueño
past the punk
rocking out with no one special

Memories fade. Scribblings remain.

A Place For My Stuff

ralphsteadmanbookofdogs8

Artwork by the legendary Ralph Steadman



a dog that chases its tail will be dizzy
not accomplishing anything
though it feels busy
can’t find its bones buried beneath the backyard tree
next to its goals
wow. that’s shitty.
if Melvil Dewey saw this, he’d be in a tizzy

but he’s dead.

and my shovel has dulled away from overuse
there’s a copious amount of my possessions
strewn about like a poltergeist had gone mad with vigor
i feel like i do when someone calls me a nigger
my emotions as tangible as a phantasm
my thoughts as straight forward as broken sarcasm

my cognition & body are skinny
& i feel as superfolous as Our Lord’s daily bread

………

some actions are better left undone
words left unsaid
scabs left unscratched
crimson tears better left unbled

oh, if only i had somewhere to rest my head.

Cream

pop will go your spot when the fervor gets a little too much

if it’s just some kind of fling

then why does purple electricity appear whenever my mind thinks of The Thrust?

trust. when i tell you that
something inside of me is chugging ’round like a train
something inside of me, all up in my membrane
what is the meaning of this purple-charged lust?

it can’t be ignored so i guess, i guess….
I Must

with your consent
we’ll both be content

the beast with two backs
an aroma of fresh coffee in the air
with a side of Cream

silky & sweet
goes down smooth
if you know what i mean

a kind of dream
just fun, nothing ethereal
take the superficial and let it drop
& let’s get on with the ShaBoogie-Bop





Daily Prompt: Sparkle

Can’t Blame Nobody But U

A message to a jaded vain prick
doesn’t matter what I say because here’s what I predict:

you’ll refuse to read between the lines, throw out context &
just talk about the juicy byline & combine what was said
into the guidelines to fit the confines
of this paperthin narrative that’s been inscribed

because not getting attention is just not a graspable concept
for someone so desperately trying to be characterized

as a victim

everyone’s out to “get you” in this system
I’m quite sure this fits a symptom
but here’s the twist in this depiction:

No one gives a fuck about inconsequential fabrications
Be yourself, not a delusional imitation

you’ll probably even think this post is about you
don’t you?

i’m not trying to condescend but this comes down to common sense
the only way to transcend
is to get right within

 

via Daily Prompt: Ascend

Come Bathe With Me

on this day, the Year of our Lord 2017, the 8th day of a month with no meaning

even after all this time here on this planet, I can still feel the deepdark sticky-icky clinging to my skin and mucking up my soul

truths untold. pure lies unfold.

unfolding on a tapestry made of the hair follicles falling from my head from stresses that need not to exist
i guess you could say i’m pissed

Anger, an emotion so powerful, it’s hard to resist
but to admit that such an emotion is necessary goes against every lesson i’ve been taught since birth

on days like this, i wish The Sun would shine, so bright it’d make me color blind
but the grey overcast skies offers little more than the hope that Our Lord will cry and rain down upon us, upon me

i’d stand in the downpour, wearing whatever fragments of cloth i happen to be wearing at the time, face up
the Holy Liquid dripping and flowing over my face, blinding me in a way-
not color blind
but leaving me, us, caught in time
human eyes closed, 3rd eye open, seeing things beyond…

ah but alas. on this day, i see no calmness from The Sun nor The Water

only grey.

in times like this, it is unfair to expect Mother Nature to give us everything needed at any given moment. She is busy, extremely overworked; and if recent events plaguing the U.S. and the rest of the world is any indication, she’s fed up and tired.

can’t say i blame her.

its time that i, we, make our own Holy Liquid to purify that deepdark sticky-icky
that affects us all, whether or not you’re aware of it

like a stranger in moscow, i’m still trying. trying to figure out how to break this curse mankind has created for itself. Mother Nature may have the answers, but we, mortals, don’t stand a chance of what’s to come.

UNLESS

we find our own way of purification. somehow i, We, have to get Mother Nature to trust us again.
but how….?

if i could i would give you the answers
but all i can do
is just offer you
this chance

to come bathe with me

Daily prompt:     Crescendo