Oh, old iron: fluid beneath my fingertips, I’ve heard of how you held the saviour’s feet and how you housed a hundred years. But now, she ties you back as though you’re barely there. You, iron, are the frame and clockwork of humanity and provide the ticking of veined muscle. I say, “rust.” You tap my own steel and pop under the pressure of relativity. What were we then? Bound in words and rhyme of years and leaves and languishing. And you did spin. You twisted wildly upon that stage and provided structure to the stone. Oh, beautiful iron, how marvelously have you trumped bismuth.
Drinky-drink
I told her, I need her but she wouldn’t stay for my song
She told me to wait, but i don’t think that I can be strong
She ran through the cloister and hid beneath silver-drop moons
I chased her through thickets and rubble of fall away tunes
Dionysus. Help me.
Flow through me.
We ran through expanses of soviet muckings about
And never once though that anything would ever be found
Shotguns and wives’ tales and sweatshirts bearing mickey mouse
Were all that were there in the ground that’s surrounding my house
Dionysus. Help me.
Flow through her.
It never occurred to me that she would be Capulet
Grasping my hands at something that I never could get
All that I could catch were handfuls of fluttering bays
I’m blinded from truth by the light of my own brilliant rays
Dionysus. Help me.
Flow through us.
Nietzsche’s Twilight
Let me show you love on the other side of night. It will hold us like the grip of a needy fire. We shall wear the garment of darkness, punctuated by stones beneath our eager feet. Starlight will pierce from every angle, holding us in place before the elegance of the spheres. The propaganda of those graves will force its weight upon us as they echo and stumble from the grass. Finally, we will fall and slip into a passionate sleep, gently guided by the kiss of dew-fall.
1st Sonnet in Forever
There are many things I’d like to say,
More like confess, is what I should have said.
Everyday, I’m acting out the play
Of scenes and acts taking place in my head.
I’d like to stop. I want it to be real.
But I’m afraid my words come at a price:
That if I were to tell you how I feel,
The gentle cord that binds us now would splice.
Everything I’ve worked so hard to build
I know would topple down without remorse.
But if you’d like to know the thoughts I’m filled
With, please don’t shy away from my discourse.
And if you took the time to read this poem,
Why don’t you take the time to use your phone?
Uncle Sunder
Hours, minutes and days slowly crawl towards an inevitability. They yield underfoot as walnuts: hard to swallow and they stain the sole. Persistence. Patience and…what? There’s some quality lacking. Oh, gentle Herrick. You prayed to him and now I beseech you. Guide me toward your complex simplicity. Let me sing of beauty. Have I even seen a bower? Your frustrations, Saint Bob are echoed in melancholy, make-up and love songs. We were there. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s still not where I left it. What was it? Lists and carnivals and absolution. What happened? High rises, kings and little messages I kept in my pocket. I paused. The scenery didn’t seem to have the cathartic response I was hoping for. Instead, there was anxiety and longing, compassion and… It’s gone again. Was it something to do with “origin”? You’ll have to help me recollect. Together, we can remember. Isn’t that right, Bob?
Scrooge McDork
More fucking technological setbacks. So, I was just working on “Drenched in You” and it turns out that it’s way to goddamn lo-fi. Even for my tastes. The mic has trouble picking up my higher frequencies and the bass is almost non-existent. Here’s how to get a feel for the recording: Take your favorite song of all time and play it on a really shitty stereo. Now, while it’s playing, pick up the stereo and THROW IT OUT OF THE FUCKING WINDOW. That’s what the recording would sound like. It appears as though, if I’m going to do anything involving any sort of media, I’m going to have to buy new equipment. I’m not going to waste the money on that now. I have bigger fish to fry, so to speak. If you want to hear/see what I’m doing for the time being, you’re going to have to talk to me in person. If you want to hear “Drenched in You”, ask me to bring my guitar because it’s not getting done right now. It’s a good song; I promise you that. Whatever. I have some reading to do. Läterz.
Decisions Made in Haste
I am so dumb. So, I’m supposed to be awake sometime in about 5 or 6 hours, right? Well, I decided that it would be a good idea to give in to my sleepiness earlier and get myself into “sleep mode” as opposed to my “nap mode” (long story). I did this at roughly 8pm yesterday. Since I’ve been asleep already for about 7 hours, I can’t sleep for shit. I only ever do about 7 or 8 hours at a time anyway; I can’t oversleep. Weird. So now I’ve got all this time to kill and nothing to do. Thus begets this blog. I’ll try it again, maybe. Here’s to success!
Dr. Steam pt. 2
So, the vlog thing’s not working out right now. The camera I have is a minidv. Well, it turns out that it doesn’t support streaming usb, so I can’t use that. Also, my laptop doesn’t have a firewire port. I’m out on that front as well. The only other option would be the a/v cable thing. Laptop doesn’t have that either. I have one of two options at this point: 1. I can’t buy a pci express card with a firewire port for about $80-$100 or 2. I could just buy a new fucking camera for $80-$100. I think I’m going to go with option 2 since it’d end up being more convenient in the long run and I’m not really looking toward professionalism with this.
I’ll keep you updated, but for the time being, my project is on the back burner.
However, I’m going to start delving into music again since I currently have a microphone for my laptop. Granted, it’s a shitty logitech headphone/mic combo, but I actually wanted to aim more toward the lo-fi genre and with my shitty mic, I don’t exactly need to compress it or anything. I should hopefully have a song up by Sunday night. It’s one I wrote a while ago and I just need to record it. It’s called “Drenched in You”. You’ll like it. It’s great.
Dr. Steam
I think I’m going to try something out for a while. I just recently found my video camera. What I’m thinking is that I’m going to allow this blog to be like an outlet for my prose poetry and other writings. I’m really too lazy to start a new one, so I think I’m just going to let this peter off into that. Meanwhile, if you’re wanting to learn about my life in general, I’m going to attempt to start a vlog thing on youtube. Retarded, I know. Going to be more about what’s going on in my life and about my opinions about things. Y’know, what I originally intended this fucker to do. However, I believe that my attempt with the vlog will be more successful since I can fully embrace my speech and it’d be more emotional or something. Fuck. I dunno. My channel will be found by going to my facebook page. I’m not going to say where it’s at, but if you know me, you’ll know where to find it. I’ll be linking the facebook page and my youtube channel together shortly enough. That is, once I can get myself a firewire, or I’ll just nick the one Musco doesn’t use. I should have a vlog up by the end of the day. Hopefully. Don’t hold your breath.
Eh?
Oh messenger in jet, what news do you bring? Will it be in purgatory or providence that I be fettered? It was so easily you sneaked into these walls. You were invisible and soundless. Was that you? I sat and brewed. I hadn’t expected your arrival, much less your missive. Wait. I have yet to receive it. I was too hasty. For you aren’t jet. You are blue.
