Raccoons/Skunks/Pandas

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills. -Charles Bukowski



Bone bruised elbows and Dixie cup shots
Dim rooms bursting with
Girls in short dresses
And friends fixated on them
Yelling over a rappers roar
Dressed up heartache
the theme was lost
Somewhere between raccoons and aliens

A pensive stupor
Shifting between
Potential lovers or
Good friends.
Perspective's hinges

Meticulous indifference
strategy
panic
longing veils the eyes with moonshine
calloused hands are tough to shake




snow-born blond with a southern spit

Coming Home.

“The heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good; and thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burdens of the past.”
-Gabriel Garcia Marquez



My coffee always grows cold
My Chai tea I mean
I don’t drink coffee
But I go to Starbucks

I take too long
The warmth is receding before I’m ready to drink
I’m never sure if its too hot
Then its gone.
And I'm left with cold coffee
Chai tea I mean


I am disgusted, but i don't care enough to change.

Growing up; in solitude.

Eros is lack...
-Socrates




What girl will care for us, do you think,
if we continue in these ways?
Must you take everything? Must you know everything?
Must you have a part in everything?
-William Carlos Williams





She refused to look at me
Watery eyes fixated on
Tearing napkins apart with long fingernails
Slicing through the grooves and scowling at
The sound of loud music and shouting girls
muffled by the bathroom door.
We spoke like some soap opera
‘Love is never clean’ I declared
As she sat on the bathroom counter
Feet wedged in the sink
‘its always covered in muck and mire
don’t look for polished hearts
that will be your downfall’
I sipped my beer then
Bit down into the aluminum
Feeling the metal on my tongue
‘your heart is crooked’ she replied
as she lost interest in the napkins
and moved onto the cardboard roll
her nails parting the cylinder like they were a knife
destroying its shape, making it flat
‘safer crooked and short then straight and long’
I watched as the cardboard was torn
Into pieces the size of my thumb
Only to drift slowly to the dirty floor
To join the shredded napkins
And hair crusted to the tile
Her nails then went to her olive skin
Grazing over forearms
In a graceful tremble
‘I never realized how long your nails have gotten’
I leaned against the door to block the sound billowing in
‘Those sort of things sneak up on you’
Her hands fell limply to her side




keep your face to the sunset and don't follow the stars.

Playlist's random intuition.

Just because you feel it doesn't mean its there...
-Radiohead

Lets listen to rap music, bleed beer and remember what we did last night

Artificial Hurt, lonely leaves.

One of the worst things that could happen to someone would be to find the love of their life too young. Lets save that stuff for when we grow up.




The dead girl by the beautiful Bartlett.
I'm sad. I make horrible sentences.
A woman alone in the park waves. The water.
The dead girl by the beautiful Bartlett.
Put down the cell phone. I'm sad. The waves.
The horrible staring. A woman alone
in the park. Waves. The leaves. Leaves
along in the park. I'm staring. The
dead girl by the beautiful Bartlett. I'm sad.
Put down your cell phone. A wave.
The sad girl alone in the park. Leaves.
Put down your cell phone. The Bartlett.
The staring. A leaf alone in the horrible
leaves. The dead girl. The staring.
-Joshua Beckman




I don’t care
don’t mind
disappear
walk right by
I don’t think about you
after class or on the bus
Between drinks
fall asleep
tell stories
Faces carved from snow
seasoned indifference
I’m not some kid
I always smile when I see you
Whether you be in dresses or shorts or skirts
I don’t disappear
watching as you scourge
Of the nights poisons
shirtless
tendrils of hair climbing down your back
glowing like a spirit
Captivated in your meekest
I wish I changed the subtle things
Left the rest to entropy
Maybe then
I wouldn’t care



Keep Climbing.

Fathers, Brothers, Sons.

The story of man
Makes me sick Inside, outside,
I don't know why
Something so conditional
And all talk Should hurt me so.
-Jack Kerouac



Mad men
The crippled who cannot fall asleep.
With whiskey shots and pale thighs waving by
Stories of conquest and well groomed hair
And the past


Time itself is a made or given features of consciousness. Time is not nature but rather is one of the aspects of mind by which we are able to know nature.
-Susan Stewart



Fools, with their PRIMAL SLANG
Distorted into envy


Or hurrying out of foreign bedrooms.
Squinting. Disheveled. shoes in hand
Shaking off the rolling horizon and craving water





suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room,

who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,

who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,
-Allen Ginsberg



For solitude sometimes is the best society,
And short retirement urges sweet return
-John Milton



Where did the time go?
Weeks of my life summed up in a sentence
I just want to find peace in some safer place
Leave all the broken glass and haggard sunrises behind
I just want to find it in a girl or a book…
Or even just the rain water roaring along the sidewalk
Running into the sewers
Headed for the sea



O! that I were as great
As is my grief, or lesser than my name,
Or that I could forget what I have been,
Or not remember what I must be now
-Shakespeare



ΣAE




For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
-T. S. Eliot

Man immortalized.

Wolves

I do not know what will come, but I will let this first thing be a mission statement of sorts...
Wolves

I do not want to be reflective any more
Envying and despising unreflective things
Finding pathos in dogs and undeveloped handwriting
And young girls doing their hair and all the castles of sand
Flushed by the childrenæs bedtime, level with the shore.

The tide comes in and goes out again, I do not want
To be always stressing either its flux or its permanence,
I do not want to be a tragic or philosophic chorus
But to keep my eye only on the nearer future
And after that let the sea flow over us.

Come then all of you, come closer, form a circle,
Join hands and make believe that joined
Hands will keep away the wolves of water
Who howl along our coast. And be it assumed
That no one hears them among the talk and laughter.
-Louis Macneice

How we run in packs like wolves
Howling at the night. Fighting.
Kicking. Nipping at each others heels to stay sharp
Waiting for weakness with dripping fangs

To howling without purpose...