Showing posts with label sign. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sign. Show all posts

11.11.2009

(Mouth Like a Machine Gun)

Mouth like a machine gun, heart like a hand grenade. Light brigade seeking solution sends the search dogs to sniff out their prey. Hooves pounding the ground hardened of the sacrificial lamb, storming like thunder through the fields, nostrils flaring swallowing the steam of perspiration.

Seek ye like hounds, like thieves, like the monsters of folklore and fairytale alike. Pushing the throe of discrepancy to the sea and forcing it into the cauldron to sink with the leaves. Mists and magic and things like miracles to run to and rescue the oddities; With pen as thy sword seek to alleviate the agony against the seldom seen sideshow.

Heed the country, heed the morality of monstrous capacity, the lemming like cliff dive from the rocks of humanity. Rush the rest of us through frivolity into the dangerous degradation of sympathy.

 

10.14.2009

(Graveyard of Shells)

Snails in tunnels
lurching toward the
smell of simplicity.
Rain rushes towards the house and
suddenly nothing remains but the
Graveyard of Shells.
Culture clash with a lazy dash to
dream about dandelions and
open fields of fate.
Searching for strength and
my signal is low.
Candy crazed sugar rush
ridicules responsible rationailty.
Dreaming of deserts
disconnects the delusion.
There!  is space.
There! Is time.
There the tide has slunk
down and away to leave the
salt to sterilize and
send you into flavor-pitch.





10.03.2009

(Cry, the Beloved Country)




An autonomous chill sneaks up and sedates the swaying leaves into retreating into metamorphosis triggering nostalgia and nuisance. Shiny screws in a dirty window pane diffuse and delay the lingering light as it too secedes to a solemn sigh. Resignation rolls around my mouth but in due process is swallowed in anticipation.


At the bottom there is no escape.







Parisian streets, Portuguese feet sink into the long stretch. Countdown to deadline. Slide right by. Riots and raves, fireworks and faves. Linear vocalization in order to calm the masses. Heal with light, feed with space. Heed the cry of the beloved country. 


Train tales tinker tinker blink. X-Y axis yeilds high. Memorialize and feast on occular optimization. Open those eyes sweet song time travel.


Neon no you beter gogogo. Hair whisps and sweaty palms seems strong after so long. Flashback fall forward shake shake glow. Hip thrust who you trust now that the man is gone backwards flip. Feisty face pout past your bedtime alram clock hip hop hop. Time ticking space bomb raw raw seesaw tip it top it taste cheap shot. Talk a lot

6.07.2009

Waiting // Line

Waiting line wash out weakens willingness to withstand an abbreviated wisdom. Shy particles of sound fall from your lips like snowflakes each perfect and unparalleled. But they fall with such weight and evaporate in our heat instantly, leaving me three seasons hence in significant silence.


Do leaves not fall as such leaving underfoot a symphony of percussive perfection, or the soft swoosh of the seeds that dance and twirl in the air? Oh! That you were able to perennially perform for me the delicacies of acknowledgable adulation instead of the absence administered.

Wrestling to clear myself of sticky cobweb austerity and surface to squirm in my stance so sequestered. Shine solemnity within my swept up memory and release me from propriety. Dance foresight, lead me to leap from ledges, at risk of the fabled fall.

5.21.2009

Heart // Song


I've been neglecting you, sweet vocal chords of my timid heart. Tell me a story. Lead the way.


Restore balance and bring light to this cloudy day. 
Illustrate the crepuscular resonance within my soul and set me free. 
Forgive me for quelling your sweet illumination and send me swimming in soul-shine.

I sing the simplicity of my solitude.

Lesson learned regardless of the invidiously tempting stagnation that has skulked in my shadow and had intercepted my clarity. 


I am a force, a great wind, come to sweep the spider from the web- I am no longer prey to the diseased carcass of my sophistic self.