August 24, 2014
The Savior Collapse of Summer

"Bullshit" the summer cried. It hovered, it was buried in a pile of rocks."Bullshit!’ the summer cried louder, its voice deeper. Frozen then, it hovered. It buried itself in a pile of rocks.

The summer cried and held her head and swung around marvelously. it looked in the mirror with well welled eyes. It broke the mirror reflecting an ugliness and regret it didn’t want to interpret. Summer was sad. It looked at itself in the back of that reflection. Taunting, smug, floating, summer turned around to nothing, slowly becoming everything.

This distance between it and the pile of rocks began to dminish again. Panicked, summer turned here there left and right. Spun so fast that pieces of it began to fly off. Its pieces retaining life, shock (at this) suppressed and stored for later, they crawled all over. Like indiscriminate leeches of happiness and sunshine and butterflies they crawled vicious smiling creatures. It paused. Thought, One could even see/sense/feel condensation forming in the air.

-What are these?
    They appear dangerous.
         I touched one and it burned a hole so fierce and self-reliant that I had to ditch that part of my body entirely. It rose slowly, falsely apologetic, splits and chunks grew more on their diet of rocks growing at a rate faster than it satiated crooked smile retreat.
But then, a pinch had struck it and its crafted oppression had flung upwards and in reverse, a whale at the height of its breach, it collapsed and before it could say one obscene word it disappeared.

August 5, 2014
The pull of this everywhere thing

I look in her eyes unwillingly
the second that comes after another
the birth that I call mine
the perpetual finality of fate
God’s hand versus my will
5 prayers of the devout

The gravity around me stops
Fire forever hot
Water always wet
A woman will always give birth
A lion will always eat flesh
Friendships will cease and germinate
Lovers marry
Widows weep

Two dune surrounded oasises stare back
Grass flattened under the weight of many lives
Sneezes propelled from a trillion noses
Stars in eyes of countless generations
of those who’ll never, those who will, and those who do
understand


i see her, find hers with mine
with the involuntary certainty of existence itself
A love that has become air,
unnoticeable and all-encompassing
stink, smelly, fragrant, questionable, necessary
missed with a violent danger
embraced with a silent ferocity

She sees me, I see her
A miracle and oxymoronic ubiquity
this thing of ours
that leads my eyes by the scent of my soul
unconscious, unquestioning,
I look

August 5, 2014
Big Bang Baby

I know what the big bang feels like. Violence, pretty violence, ugly results, pretty results. Growth from nothing. The realization and reminder that I, this whole thing, came from nothing or something close to nothing. My sperm-self didn’t exist from my father’s inception or his father’s. not in them at least. Pieces of grass, and sinew, and star dust. what the fuck. I know what the Big Bang feels like. Collisions, of people, personalities, all these withouts and paradigms that come together to be immediately repelled and disgusted from each other. or come together to stay and create something inclusively harmonious or exclusively harmonious and dangerous to everything else. laugh out loud, you know the big bang, all the emotions you’ve ever felt, violent varied and overbearing in number, or singular, placid, easy to turnover in your hand, the ebb and pull and push of the universe, no, existence itself reflected in your bullshit tears and happiness and movies, and experiences exploded outwards into your personality. What planet will you become? Will you even become a planet? Some people are cold and deso, some are once in a lifetime miracles. Some are earth, attractive lovely and inhabitable to many. Some are so far away, some are dented and volcanic, some are inhabitable or good company only under certain circumstances. Some you’ll never come close to understanding. We understand the BIG bang. we are the big bang. beyond the conscious, desire to understand, this isn’t about choice, this lies deep beneath that thing like a dimension imperceptible to any mind, eye, or instrument. This a cycle that remains so obvious it’s hidden. The reflection of bang big, the collision creation of things ugly pretty rare voluminous. the gradients of things that appear forever far then suddenly are then we even die. From babe to death, from bang to birth to collision, molding, embedding, molten planets of thoughts, which will hold fruit? which a rock of nutrition and wisdom? We all know what the BIG BANG is. We don’t even need to acknowledge it, it has no pride, but for us…it’s something we should hold dear to finally be able to stand outside ourselves and recognize the cycle. So easy to ignore. Take you finger and swirl around the air and say ” I see you Big fella”.

Banga-bang.

July 23, 2014
Honesty & caterpillars.

There’s no time or feeling more extraordinary as when I’m being honest. And when I say being I mean being. Not just the verbal and vocal attachment of honesty. But existing in an honest way. You feel every leaf shudder and whisper in the breeze. Every caterpillar holds and gives some meaning to the honest man. “I hate you caterpillar”. “This caterpillar makes me wanna weep”. “Why do you exist caterpillar?”

It isn’t all butterflies and sprinkles. Contempt can be a beautiful thing out of an honest man’s heart and so can its rejection by another. It’s just that honest things flow with an ease, if not an ease, a naturalism that restores us in the life flow of existence and maybe even God. I have a vague memory of someone telling me or reading about the illusion of wrong or right. How the definition changes from person to culture to country and border. I think it’s bullshit, you can’t kill a man for no reason. Though like I said a culture is entirely capable of producing a citizen who doesn’t understand your wrong as his wrong.

In this person’s paradigm whether it’s the extreme of acceptable murder or which hand is blasphemous to shake, what always give me a lovely chill is the pure and honest and fully self-believing execution of these movements. No ulteriors or nuffin’. Whether I agree with it or not, watching someone be honest and being honest is the greatest thing on earth and possibly beyond.

July 20, 2014
How do you say…

Three women on the 5, speaking a language I don’t know. They’re young, white, hip, in good spirits and talkative. They might’ve been talking all through my sleep. even about how handsome the young dirty looking napper is. *Foreign language* If he was clean I might bring him home to my  mother * I think i like him dirty’, says the other. Of course this isn’t what I want them to have said and especially isn’t what I think; I’m talking shit. But probably, despite their prettiness I’m not sure how easy I am, their language sounded beautiful and meant for play and lightness. Maybe because of their good mood. Or maybe that’s how it is. A language that didn’t lend itself well to anger and general negativity. Funny. A language of peace, of good times. An actual language. Not phrases and -isms. an actual language. Funny Funny Funny.

July 17, 2014
I know what i got

My mother said I was stolen from her. I must have stockholm’s. why would someone wait until someone was gone to be their sweetest, I don’t know. To ensure that person will come back? Because while I was around it was easy to assume I’d always be around so there’d be time to be sweet later? Whatever, I wasn’t stolen, i was requested. and i accepted. Not even the universe can have its cake sometimes. One thing opens up, another closes. fuck it.

Post-script July 20th, 2014

Nah, she just misses me and is scared I’ll abandon her. It’s peculiar, I have to show her I won’t leave her hanging, in a way to win her nagging back. Life’s forever funny.

July 1, 2014
Less is More

What’s the greatest lessons I’ve learned in the last month. Fuck if I know. Maybe to give less of a fuck. I get these feelings in my gut and then people put these words and perfectly logical sounding things in my mind and ears and I begrudgingly, my soul begrudgingly ignores itself and follow these logical sounding things. Then you know what happens. Disappointment, lol, most of the time. Not all but most. Por Ejemplo:

My gut goes ; Man I should go this show,bar,do this assignment before or after boom boom boom

Someone/Something else/even my own brain goes ; Man that’s stupid.

My brain goes ; yea, you know what, you’re right, that’s some good old cold hard logic.

My spirit goes ; *facepalm* in the corner of the room.

I go ; What?

My spirit goes ; Nothing man, just go.

I’m like ; No, What?

My spirit ; *clams up*

I ride the train or stay where I’m staying, doing the opposite of what my gut said to do. My soul, my whole shit feels uneasy, but I tell myself “that’s just your body rebelling against making sense” lol.

But you know what? disappointment. I get to the place/thing. I get a call or text. And the thing is canceled or pushed way the fuck back or was the day before or the person didn’t even care or obviously wished that I showed up later because they were still doing their thing. And I’m standing there sad and lonesome ‘cause my gut-soul-chakra is at home crying in a corner like a wife who’s been left home alone again for another night of selfish wandering. It’s fucked up.

If I could have a polygamist marriage. It would be between me, my gut, and Alizabeth.

Less of a fuck in more of the right ways.

Jason

June 18, 2014
Funk Crux Punch List

Listening to the Silver Jew
The album where I found my beau
The soundtrack hasn’t gotten stale
I’m in the funk but will prevail

The words I said but never did
Makes her wonder about this kid
Next time, Next time I repeat
and now the crux has come to speak

I am scared, yes I am scared
Cause I am far, though I am near
My bootstraps pulled to my hairline
I scream and punch my teeth I grind

With each breath a strand of gold
over horizon’s head begins unfold
Until it covers her and I
Love’s list begun, sluggard denied

June 4, 2014
She's Impressed

"yo, what is there to do? you go do something that only you have the knowledge to do and lemme do something I could do on my own, like you go clean your room or something, what else is there to do" She said the kitchen needed cleaning. "bet, imma do that then" I could tell she was impressed.

I’ve been trying and slowly becoming the authoritative male I know I am. I don’t wanna be a bully, dick, loud-mouth or aggro-monkey, but I look in the mirror and don’t see a push-over. Even in my thoughts are the thoughts of a pretty harsh/serious/not-to-be-fucked-with dude but my words come out different. pussified.

Anyway, I could tell she’s impressed, hehe. I’m not trying to impress her, shit needs to get done, but I know she’s into seeing me get all laser like. lol. Anyway I’m flying around like a monkey, I forgot who was in the house with us. Jonathan I think. I’m singing roadrunner, super loud. at first i’m kinda timid, like who is this nigga singing downstairs? but then i’m bellowing the lyrics, cause fuck it. Every time she comes into the room or I think she’s coming, all my nerves go to my dick heart & mind. and maybe a few in my throat. I just wanna marry fuck baby kiss her right then n’ there.

We kiss every now and then, I don’t know how we let go of each other sometimes. It’s a good day, Sun is shining, everybody likes the sunshine, and her fucking house let’s in sunshine like a dive bar with no scruples. It’s everywhere. Her hair.

Eventually I’m screwing some shit in with a powerdrill. She’s impressed. lol, she’s taking pictures of me drilling this single screw. She’s impressed, I’m playing cool, but I’m thrilled at doing this single task (outlier thought, handiwork is awesome). I look forward, thinking to myself, to learning how to do some real shit, plumbing and wiring and electricity. It’s fun working with your hands. The same scene repeats itself when I’m upstair unclogging her drain. She’s SUPER impressed. lol, fuck it. I’m bout that life. The drain unclogging might have come before the cabinet drilling but who cares. Still happened.

I’m in the kitchen at some point in the process, cleaning, listening to tunes on my cell phone speaker. Everything’s on random. I think some Styles P came on followed by some fuckin’, ionno, everyly brothers. I laughed at that. reminds me of my college days when I confused the shit out of my roommate with my music playlists. Schizoid, tastefully. Amyway,  This jam comes on, it’s punk, hardcore, well maybe not hardcore but respectfully thrashy. Nigga’s like “Life…LIFE…LIFE IS THE ONLY THING WORTH LIVING FOORRR!” i’M like whoa, this is pretty inspiring for a punk song. I’m so used to, experience wise and stigmatically to think of punk-hardcore songs as a mellow-harshed anti-this anti-that. But nah this one was uplifting. SUPER. ayiway. She walks in. I wanna fuck. She’s doodling around, I’m looking at her a little, the song in the background of all these Alizabeth thoughts for a few seconds.

She pipes up, “Who is this?”. L”Life…LIFE…LIFE IS THE ONLY THING WORTH LIVING FOORRR!” just playing in the background. In my head I’m kinda shocked, like why the fuck is she asking me this, you’re not supposed to be into this kinda shit. Wha? But that’s like 1/10 of a second worth a feeling and I say “I dunno, it’s on random, shit’s tight though” or something akin. She lightly hmmfs to herself and leaves. Cool man, She LIKES this shit? She’s into Beyonce I’m into Pavement. I tell myself I gotta figure out what song that was that she was into. That was a few weeks ago. i haven’t seen her in days. It’s all the same. Minutes, seconds they’re all “I haven’t seen hers.” The song pops into my head again, not sure it really left. I fucking tell myself I’m gonna find it. It had a unpolished sound to it. Not damaged, too angry, not husker, too nascent. I reach the bottom of my playlist. Fuck. Cycle through again…Got it. Check the lyrics to make sure, sure nuff is. Song’s positive as fuck, I’m bout it, thought i’d just send it to her but then…ouroboros.

Wonder if she’s still impressed with this joint. Hope’s well alive.

May 15, 2014
Lover of Sleep

On some nights sleep abandons me
leaving out of illogical spite
too enamored to stay away

On some nights sleep comes and goes
teasing me to madness
until dreams come orgasmic

On some nights sleep waits for me
trembling lovingly on my pillow
while my mind toils into the late hour

On most nights sleep embraces me
squeezing me with the calm fever
of my love who hasn’t seen me all day

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