delerious ravings
everyone only wants someone elses absorbing livejournal
this entry is quintessential stoner-sophistication
begin transcription (much excluded):
Sorry excuses for poems:
The wind blows under
the bridge crossing over
the riverbed beside
the throaty toad
who creaks
and hunts for crickets on the beach.
To the hooting owl
the rat is quarry
and a crunchy feast
(fur, flesh and bones)
for two.
if i read
(or write)
another poem about the wind
or midnight
or reflected moonlight,
i am going to retch.
midnight
choking on the viscous
darkness
if athelete's foot made me a runner
and brain tumors made me a wiz,
if a heart-attack made me a lover,
and pneumonia blah blah blah blah
if suffering made me a survivor
and cancer made me a king
blah blah blah
nighttime is the realm
ruled by somnambulists
and poltergeists
and skinny black cats
stalking skinny white mice.
my root canal was
a rite-of-passage into the 21st century.
the result and realization of
nineteen years of sugary decay
and dental (et al) dissipation
homosexual drama
remindes me of heterosexual quarreling.
if one must condemn same-sex marriage,
for god's sake! don't do it for sanctity,
do it for my ears.
condensed crap:
i look young proposition to trade music for a viewpoint wine that tastes like bile, foreboding of tommorrows suffering 2+2=y Euler's Rap by Bowango Multi-Universe Theory by Bobby musical landscapes what am i going to tell my parents about poverty dealing in ideas rather than material goods. flash cards - a good way to memorize a bunch of useless bits of knowledge. picked out a book, thumbed through it, looked like an abominable read so reshelved out of order as to spare its next seaker the torture of reading it. kill-deer calling out at midnight to the rummaging raccoon seeing a pathway before me i see the entire trail spread out ahead same ancient wisdom is sung throughout history, only it is spoken in different languages and different contexts. writers unraveling conspiracy in everyday objects. the greatest poem i ever wrote i gave to a girl i didn't know and never would meet. i pushed the crumpled college-rule paper into her hand, inscribed with my masterpiece, sending a message in a bottle away from this island called ME. she wispered our names, crystalized our identities in snow-flakes, Native American belief about essence being contained in denominator. reality is like a dream, but you can write. marriage as an extension of partner's personality. disconcerting eyes that stare through me. enlightenment leads inward above physical language knowledge in a more intimate form than through the senses, through ideas. appeal of books as temporally permanent ideas. smells a victim like a vulture senses carrion. bwg - dancing manifests music, cliche as it may seem, but what do a bunch of pot-smokers know. relationships as personal mindsets. wearing glasses is more realistic because life is incomprehensible unless refracted through some lenses. rushing from idea to idea to capture them as if they were outposts or points along a path. a talker, i thought but never spoke. we sat and had our hair blown back by the music's crashing oceanic waves.
Stories:
God granting transformation wish, who to choose?
one man loves wife through correspondence, other sensually, both die, who is more bereft. fuck obviously it is not this simple, must have combination of both.
Two authors/rival ideologies are companions/friends. in person affable, in print enemies. discover identities and disengage. separation of personal relations and ideas.
99% pure crap, straight from the sewers of my mind.
this entry is quintessential stoner-sophistication
begin transcription (much excluded):
Sorry excuses for poems:
The wind blows under
the bridge crossing over
the riverbed beside
the throaty toad
who creaks
and hunts for crickets on the beach.
To the hooting owl
the rat is quarry
and a crunchy feast
(fur, flesh and bones)
for two.
if i read
(or write)
another poem about the wind
or midnight
or reflected moonlight,
i am going to retch.
midnight
choking on the viscous
darkness
if athelete's foot made me a runner
and brain tumors made me a wiz,
if a heart-attack made me a lover,
and pneumonia blah blah blah blah
if suffering made me a survivor
and cancer made me a king
blah blah blah
nighttime is the realm
ruled by somnambulists
and poltergeists
and skinny black cats
stalking skinny white mice.
my root canal was
a rite-of-passage into the 21st century.
the result and realization of
nineteen years of sugary decay
and dental (et al) dissipation
homosexual drama
remindes me of heterosexual quarreling.
if one must condemn same-sex marriage,
for god's sake! don't do it for sanctity,
do it for my ears.
condensed crap:
i look young proposition to trade music for a viewpoint wine that tastes like bile, foreboding of tommorrows suffering 2+2=y Euler's Rap by Bowango Multi-Universe Theory by Bobby musical landscapes what am i going to tell my parents about poverty dealing in ideas rather than material goods. flash cards - a good way to memorize a bunch of useless bits of knowledge. picked out a book, thumbed through it, looked like an abominable read so reshelved out of order as to spare its next seaker the torture of reading it. kill-deer calling out at midnight to the rummaging raccoon seeing a pathway before me i see the entire trail spread out ahead same ancient wisdom is sung throughout history, only it is spoken in different languages and different contexts. writers unraveling conspiracy in everyday objects. the greatest poem i ever wrote i gave to a girl i didn't know and never would meet. i pushed the crumpled college-rule paper into her hand, inscribed with my masterpiece, sending a message in a bottle away from this island called ME. she wispered our names, crystalized our identities in snow-flakes, Native American belief about essence being contained in denominator. reality is like a dream, but you can write. marriage as an extension of partner's personality. disconcerting eyes that stare through me. enlightenment leads inward above physical language knowledge in a more intimate form than through the senses, through ideas. appeal of books as temporally permanent ideas. smells a victim like a vulture senses carrion. bwg - dancing manifests music, cliche as it may seem, but what do a bunch of pot-smokers know. relationships as personal mindsets. wearing glasses is more realistic because life is incomprehensible unless refracted through some lenses. rushing from idea to idea to capture them as if they were outposts or points along a path. a talker, i thought but never spoke. we sat and had our hair blown back by the music's crashing oceanic waves.
Stories:
God granting transformation wish, who to choose?
one man loves wife through correspondence, other sensually, both die, who is more bereft. fuck obviously it is not this simple, must have combination of both.
Two authors/rival ideologies are companions/friends. in person affable, in print enemies. discover identities and disengage. separation of personal relations and ideas.
99% pure crap, straight from the sewers of my mind.