[stopitgoddammit]

Notes to Self

You’ve got to forge a new path I wrote to myself with an asterisk next to the date so I would know to return and remind myself to forge a new path There are many asterisks in my notebook sometimes even two or three together to signify that the words within are really very notable although sometimes I can’t tell why

[stopitgoddammit]

Wild Berry Crunch

Should have called in sick to write songs in your makeshift studio den but you ate cereal instead and I'm smoking a cigarette drinking milk again watching planes fly overhead but I'm not a smoker no I'm not a smoker yet it helps me find the words for whatever that's worth maybe I should get one of those colouring books they sell to ladies who buy magazines at the supermarket counter but right now I'm smoking cigarettes

[stopitgoddammit]

Oilily for Dominion

Intentions lost faded into obscurity as attention stolen from me can't stay on course beating peak-hour traffic with muffins and coffee the prime minister orders ID checks Kanye West says something lost to refresh a black hole has been discovered and it's growing very fast it's a monster memory transfer from one snail to another what was I thinking am I in a dysfunctional relationship with my mind what was I thinking stuck at 9% what was I thinking 10% working on updates don't turn off your what was I thinking 12% working on updates this will take a while

[stopitgoddammit]

Please Wake Me at 90

At 90 minutes please wake me from my slumber so that I may recall in detail the way you held me above the mire

[bettybrink]

Life as Cat

Mine claws click on floor, four paws licked musky clean good to chase humain. Am small, am soft, am warm with purrs, sunlite sleeping shine make silk of furs. Loud meow, high shelf leap, sharp fang teeth to chomp the leaf; feline has much proud to be. Generous predator bring gift for them who fill bowl and empty box, give slow blinks and show tummy, tail crooked in air when prowling. Stand on table to look out window, watch birb fly, watch many bright night light, glad for big eyes looking far and wide. Lay on lap, sleep on feets, kneading humain’s favorite sheets, mine comforts make home of habitat, no life better than that as cat.

[cruxymox]

my, my

i write in visions unfathomable scenes but sometimes the sounds i hear in my head have to get out they haven’t proper words or symbols, even so i get as close as i can writing to reach you trying to express my… my…

my echh is all for you.

[stopitgoddammit]

A Distant Hum

To know and to do anyway the mark of a fool duped by momentum again You’re a pushover she laughs, nervously

[stopitgoddammit]

How can you make another person understand what is really happening inside you? If I were to break a leg he would drop everything. But if your heart is breaking with joy - well, it’s a bit boring don’t you know. Tears are easier to put up with than joy. Joy is destructive: it makes others uncomfortable. ‘Weep and you weep alone’ - what a lie that is! Weep and you will find a million crocodiles to weep with you. The world is forever weeping. The world is drenched in tears. Laughter, that’s another thing. Laughter is momentary - it passes. But joy, joy is a kind of ecstatic bleeding, a disgraceful sort of supercontentment which overflows from every pore of your being. You can’t make people joyous just by being joyous yourself. Joy has to be generated by oneself: it is or it isn’t. Joy is founded on something too profound to be understood and communicated. To be joyous is to be a madman in a world of sad ghosts.

Henry Miller, Sexus

[stopitgoddammit]

Self-assured Destruction

You turn weapons of diminishment against yourself but no one else you wouldn’t dare it’s not there in you to do such a thing

[stopitgoddammit]

Illuminated from Within

To you I sing of a sweeter thing Through the cracks in your tired wall I reveal to you once more a light inside

Ever will I wait for you to heed my call beckoning you to an open door with arms outstretched

[stopitgoddammit]

I don’t usually write love poems but

…held within your arms with my cheek held firm against the beat of your heart I’ve stood in doubtless deference to the frightening fortune of our cosmic entanglement

I have traced the curve of your soul and summoned the warmth of your embrace

At great length I have soothed myself with the ardour of your gaze that looks upon me as if magic and sets your eyes ablaze

[stopitgoddammit]

Fully Absorbed

To be tossed to and fro in that ocean below sounds delightful she said in that book I had read I guess I knew what she meant how it felt to think that Not to fall to demise amid anguished cries but be moved by a force much greater than I

[stopitgoddammit]

Tides

Woman, I know of the pendulations of your mind the tears spilt for no one and no thing and how electric thoughts make it all feel so real I’ve observed you in a million different scenarios that tell me it ain't so now just sit back and watch the show

[stopitgoddammit]

Crawling From the River

And it was comfortable to sink into obscurity for a while

The landscape rushed by in her periphery as she floated along gazing upwards

or was it straight down?

Now she's battered and breathless as she tries to pull her way out onto an unknown shore

She didn't want to drown

[stopitgoddammit]

Fun House

Life, it seemed to her was just one big conversation with herself in a hall of mirrors

[stopitgoddammit]

Poems About Old People

Maybe I should write a poem about an old lady I saw sitting on a park bench

I'd mention how we'd probably get along because I don't talk very much and I already have hairs growing on my chin Or maybe I should write about the man on the bus who smells like booze I saw him at the bottle-o one time loitering at the wine samples I'd mention how we'd probably get along because I don't talk very much and I like wine too

(they have samples?!) Old people are mysterious and poetic You can always write a poem about an old person on a bus or a park bench I wonder how many old people have unknowingly been subjects of poems by young people who want to write a poem about something other than themselves

[stopitgoddammit]

Don’t Feed the Trolls

Once again

I find myself in fisticuffs

with the shadows that dart

across the corners of my mind

and I feel a fool to know

how they love to taunt me so

all the while knowing

I can never land a blow