Scorpio Rising: then Egypt

i am slammed up against a stone wall. my own love.

there's a gentle lion lazing outside my door.

we sit proud in the dust and gaze into a perfect galaxy of lights.

i miss nothing. there is nothing that is not with me.

cosmic entities fly around, they become buzzing, they bounce off me and i want nothing but this...quiet...stillness...

....gentle stirring of emotion
hang my head low . an invocation .

my god.
forgive me for things i have not done.

absolve me of this horror that i have immersed into.

i don't think i can share any more. any thing.

elaborate fictions

This is a masterfully crafted work of fiction. Based on factual incidents in Time and Space.

Has it always been this way?

He referred to himself a ''Master of Havoc''. When he completed his work, there lay chopped and splattered remnants of information and dispatches. There was a third piece of a context sticking to the roll-away chair.

Rather quickly, from who knows where, She slid and bounced through, her grinning Bhangra twirl. The percussion and a many-stringed instrument gathered the constellations in a trail. Stooping down to collect the fragments of syllables and phrases, She spun them around, weaving a magnificent Net.

The stars shuffled in realignment.

The Earth glazed pebble and tree limb, sea swell and cork screw.

The knitNet, pliant and stretching, kept the heavenly bodies carefully.

suddenly......substance and significance.

the word of the day was Love.

the End.

flush

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i am you

i'm the boondoggle dangling from your keychain, your collection of discarded postcards reading "luv you, i'm having the time of my life!"



i'm a snowdome placed on your bookshelf. please. shake me and watch me flake.



i'm faux metallica, t-shirt backing safety pinned to his rockin denim jacket. can i borrow that?



i'm a cookie cutter combo, plastic and purple, one day i'll be a dough dinosaur. be sure to eat the head first.







you are the buzzing of bees in my head when i read mediocrity poesy and lose the given train of thought, though you once haunted my abode, my adobe creaking and pages rustling up slumber.



you are the idea of crickets mating, after burping their feast of butterbean soak.





you are the light filtering through a grease-smudged window, reminding me, my head is too small to live inside completely.



you are the wooden chair you fastened from scrapwood in the garage, i stand on you, you are now a stool.



you, the silence of a heavy river rock, drowning out the noisy gush.



i am poochie lip baby, the wailing that awakes a thousand ancestors, echoes from cosmos.



peripheral shift.





i'm the space between your thumb and your brain. that awful space that did not waste time dotting the i.







i'm the look of confusion on their faces when you confess some awful prank, then they laugh...i'm that too.





i am the dangermouse. sitting here outside my house. secluded for words.



i am the brown leaves falling around your unkempt doorstep. CRUNCH!

.you are a million particles of dust, from her sweeping twigs and acorns, a clean path to sidedoor.



i am the last star, colored mustard yellow wallpaper, your back is pressing against me and i have no leg to push you away.



i am the empty winerack, cause you drank it all, now you're digging out quarters for a midgrade.



i am paintsmears on the table, you're scratching your head and wondering why you painted an angel with a cartoon face.





-why your erotic lady sketch has a look of agony.



i am the satisfying feel of thick dried glue under your fingernails when you peel it off the counter. not sposed to be there.



i am a collection of found objects, cluttered in a box, because she looks down, finding little treasures on the ground.







i am aching neck, eyestrain, and big dogs pooping out, soon floating in a pillow...

dic*

dic*

dic

dickies dictate

dick dic dice

diced dicephalous dick

dichloride dichrotic dickens

dictatory dicynodont dicyclic dictionary

dickdickdickdickddickdicdickdidickdickdickdickdickdickdick

dickdickdickdickdickdickdickdickdickdickdickdickdickdickckdick

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dickdickdickdickdickdickdickdickdickdickdickdickdickdickdickdick

dic

dickies

dictate

dick

dic

dice

diced

dicephalous dick

dichloride

dichrotic dickens

dictatory

dicynodont

dicyclic

dictionary



i found a poem today. found.

TALK TALK TALK



you're the one that I want



don't go there!



why do you have to ask so many questions?



BLESSINGS



All I do is dream of you!



It's all about the attitude



quality time



LAUGH AND PLAY





(     )

re-twitterated

1..

breakin' out the 3 weeks ago notebook. LOOK! .




i tried to rip off the imitation of design pieces but decided not to work too much. ruining it ruining it. as usual #Virgo is fairytalefallen.



Jalapeno. Sweet Vidalia. Centos Crushed. Chili Powder, etcetera..



thinking about parallel universes/lives.



crop circles. marbling effects. distortion. shiva. ace of cups. third eye open. white noise without. one pointedness..



Emoticons deep wells too dark out here to read, yay..



.



2..



today is laundry day here. among other various other tasks and distractions. nothing wrong with distractions. i livefreely..



cooking from scratch. Waffles. Belgian style. I serve my kids, service unto others, devoting my life to it since...hmmm...???? #unsure.



prob with me is everytime i bake or make something like this, i think i am stirrin' up glue. its gluing my girl to me :).



zero laundry begun. ungluing temporarily..



#meow intoxication rippin kitten #neeka .



yes. those eggs were unfluffy..



EGO. PRIDE. what's that? i'm learning..



we are one and the same. atman brahman. all that shizzle. now i separate myself, unglue..



.



3..



i am a thieving artist..



RE: intellectual property, internet makes that moot, excepting originals/handmades, ©ididit.



living libraries. living words. see things that make you wonder? think? feel? INSPIRE. TEACH. aMUSE. ::----)).



.



4..



My heart whispers until it screams. Scatterbrained, I am head of wind..



do you have any idea?.



Lookt for my totem. It was at once Indigo Saber and Mockingbird. Lookt funny, that kookoo kat..



But the gutturrall intonations and squarkizations, a language of skatt. (that is an actual misspelled word.).



and the lost words of ''scat, scidaddle, that's where i'm at.''.



Giant babies crawl out of 'n' all over me. Got to tango now, this tangle..



Fly on off pretty pretty bird. Strut yo stuff strange byrd. Serenade us all cocky birdie bird....



.



5..



Monorail and Kitty Cat. Escape out to the Jungle. drumbeats and twirling dervs. Aquablue shadows structure my bones..



Tunnelling. Our machete. Ways through the density. Books and utensils. Library as kitchen, feeding the hungry..



.



6. .



Barefoot babies at the park, shady oaks, those elders, offering of protection..



I'm just a hobo...gritty teeth...fragrancy of vagrancy...hoppin' your train....



Can she comprehend? The solar glare? The vastness, this Aquarian sphere? Ever expansion, the Carnie's stare?.



Her iota, la voz menos. Siempre menos, dos vidas al lado. Un idea grandiose! Plug powercord into the head!.



.



7. .



back into the Upanishads of my library, your library, #ALLOURLIBRARIES transcendentation from internal server error 1,282,705,081,000.00 via web .



.



The pages fold in on a word. But the flowering out of sensation...Oh! To create like that.



.



THANK YOU FOR YOUR INNUMERABLE BLESSINGS, GOD! Svayam Bhagavan! #TEARSOFJOY .



.

.

.

another library

all up in the stacks, watch out for the crushing of falling bound books.



your library brushes off the dust of the prize hidden ancient texts.



you began with the fertile crescent. and return to the sumerians and chaldeans. you are a Babylonian King. (babel babble)



your library is a million needles piercing my brain.



rich with original language and mucho meandering meaning is YOUR library.



i found a deserted island, feel the warm lush sun and balmy sand tickling over my barefeet in the library.



Alla HU Akbar is embossed on the leather bound books of yer librarrrrry #yupyup



the maps and the solar flare become your library.



your library unfolds into a jacked up MUSEum, yer librairy.



i am myself hijacked and kidnapped into the dankness of your library.



if only Your Library could transcend into the Vacuuming of my arboretum.



Your Library of twists, turns, convolutions, jumpforths, and setbacks has knitted various colored textures into my grey matter.



i exclaimed !!! too loudly inside Your Library and was meekened by the SHHHHSHHH!!!

beware the love

if you see my pride tell it to hitch a ride on me, cause i lost it somewhere

between the magnetism of him and the pull on me.

i am a damaged woman who just learned that i can cry without making tears.

i can spend years in love and another love springs fresh and new in the corner

but it needs nurture and a feeding to grow.

not a one-sided confessional in which i am the sinner and he's nothing but a saint.

so i put it back into the corner, i can look at it every now and again, like an old photograph of 2 friends, a memory of lunchtime conversation and sharing iphone love songs by passenger and the cure.

i bite my tongue. i sit on my hands. eggshells. egg shells.

he'll never taste my tongue. he'll never feel my hips. he'll forever be a memory of something beautiful and unopened. the present that my santa god took back, shaking his finger in my face, saying you have been a naughty girl this time!

for my folly, i deserve this black hole. if only for tonight.

there will be other vincentes in my shanty world. a john or two. maybe even a moe or sebastian. and if i meet romeo, god put me out of my misery before i get in too deep.

deliver me

drenched in sleep,

drowned in emotion,

rain is harmony

to this silence.







he told me

he told me

that in his heart

is violence.









aye, from his lips,

noise and static-

from skin and eyes,

bold magnet.







perplexity-my companion

follows, leans in.

but abandoned,

so effects my torrid fit.

light as smoke

i could ask you or tell you what i want

but i won't

i am a live and let live person

so

live

and

let me

the stars will align

or not

the ocean tides will pull

and push

the elements will shift

whether i drift

or you

so

i just choose to smile

be brave, be strong

life is not very long

and in the end

i hope there is a loaded bong

(is there gravity in the afterlife?)

odd bird

there's an odd bird.

she's all alone.

she stares ahead, blinking

and twitches a bit.

she hears you and notes

your sing-song conversation.

which she follows, dropping from eaves.

but, she's just an odd bird.

so you say too much.

never suspecting your secrets she holds.

then.

she's had enough.

she jumps and flaps away.

to a treetop.

where she won't have to overhear

another damn thing.

shake

Sep 13, 2009





Lover oh lover

Roll over and hover,

Your face poised above,

Pink lips.

Hot. Dry. Plump.

A gaze from the eye.

Juiced down inner thigh.

Warm and tanned Michelangelo hands-

Golden hair tangles down-

from shoulder to working man's arms, strong hands.

I form to you as

You bend me and knead me.

My static disturbed, so shake and do quake me.

Roughen me up, you do it so gently.

Holding on for a ride,

I breathe in your soft skin.

My needs are quite simple,

You've fulfilled again.

So break into my side, surrender...

Don't hold out for me

this time any longer.

The artist asks the question

     What is Beauty? Many painters, musicians, writers, and consumers of art have asked themselves this very question, upon examination of varying works of art. Beauty is defined as a quality of being that gives deep satisfaction or a manifestation that is individually pleasing upon its perception. Another definition of Beauty is ''something excellent of its kind''. Immanuel Kant ruminates that we refer to a subject as beautiful if we derive a ''feeling'' of pleasure from its effect on our imagination. There are elements of judgement and comparison in such determinations, which cannot be avoided.

    As an artist, I was trained to paint from a very early age by my mother, took art classes only through high school, and was influenced by an uncle and a friend, who shared my interest in drawing, sculpture, taking pictures, and application of color. I compare my own work to theirs and cannot deny that my product represents inner emotions that I consider ugly and detrimental. It definitely comes out in my art.
    Visual artist, Denise King, states that the idea of beauty is scientifically related to symmetry and balance. There must be an offset, a slight off balance to make the picture pleasing to the eye.

    So we observe the various writers and painters and musicians and their work, and may safely abandon our desire, for the sheer pleasure of  manifest beauty. We can recognize and understand the expression/impression from our individual place of experience. Our minds compare and discriminate, to define beauty in  a work of art, based upon our backgrounds and ability to relate.

dramatic short

I linger in my lover's bed
(it's his when he's away)
I replay the riding lessons in my head
(while dozing in the hay)
alone, not where I want to be, I tumble out to sea...
the water's cold, the salty stings, the depth threatens to whirlpool me.

how mush i feel

This is a Testament to prove
how much I don't miss you.
See, I never ever think about you.
This just proves it so.
I have better things to do
than just pine away,
like a Whiney Wendy.
You would have to be here,
just to understand,
how Mush I feel for you....

quiet late night summer afternoons

at the upside down plaza,
renting out the jukebox-
fuzzy bended dollar bills
for ramones and david allan coe.
a band took the dance floor-
really bad drunk punk music,
like the dead dragged from angry agoraphobic tombs.
screeching and bobbing,
thrown at the remnants of anti-monarchists.
on my way to the beer man,
a brown headed brian and his
''I never forget a face.''
or that hair.
it was barely years ago,
we shared smokes and truth or dare,
quiet late summer afternoons.
empty apartment, no friends, no roommates.
passing in and between-two lives.
memory loosely muzzled.
then slammed to the forehead by a beer run for moshers.

implicity sexplicit

Give me the Jord-Ass
one that stretches to the Boing of belt
Plaid off to the Round of Bounce
the smotherment of smoulder boulder
Scribble the sex notes
for pound pirate
put it pretty...and...prefaced

dis.integrate

my hands do dis.integrate,
tiny particles from elbow and beyond,
its what I give away.
my mind holds onto nothing,
and the grasp is harder every day.

the storyteller

your voice is a typewriter,
persistent and gently tapping
away.
your words are a blanket,
effectively...covering...and warm.
your eyes are searchlights,
scanning the broad horizon,
highlighting--examining.
your arms are hovercraft,
expanding and closing in and
always suggesting something
BIG that you hold.

untitled

Behold you
the Mask
behind you
the Brat
above you
Idea
below you
a Grasp
a penny thumpin', heads or tails bumpin', its all good, its somethin',
I told you, you're Pumpkin, like Smashing, like noise crash,
a veritable road rash, a falling from safety,
not landing, but scraping