Video site

http://www.black20.com/


I actually might do some freelance P.A
work for this company in the near future.

and then there were none

a smile is an acknowledgement
a parellel universe; one moment in time.
i'm here observing in this universe, unfortunately
He. sits across from me, intruder of pan irony
I just feel I'm aging, aging
a second passes and I feel every aspect of him
Chorus in ADegeneration
growing younger beyond his years in
animal magnetism
mammalian intent
Darwinism like politics limits his options more than mine.

Part Duex

(See 12/2004 for Part One of Ballad)

BALLAD PART DUEX:
SURPRISE! SEASONAL DEPRESSION
CAME EARLY THIS YEAR!

Ten shopping days till Christmas and
I’ve eerily been politely told
by both friends and family,
that I need to start being nicer to both
friends and family.

Starting to think it’s true when received
a late night drunken prank call
referring to me as a little bitch
who likes to suck dick.
(The latter accusation isn’t true)

Greatest epiphany in the world
when my somber grouchiness caused
by lack of global holiday cheer has
some how affected more than
my sleep and eating habits-
but has shaken my life as a whole.

Need to stop wishing for the first snowfall
and start praying for my own genuine smile.

I stutter and go into shock when
a passing stranger wishes me luck on an exam,
and it finally hits me like a hail storm:
I need to get my head out of my own ass
before New Years Eve if I want to even have acquaintances in 2007.

joey

If the Man Upstairs
is really there he resembles
this rapist that can still make me smile
If the Man Upstairs
is really there than he has the logic
for the Ever Abstract Grand Design
equivalent to a kangaroo
Humor that you feel drained after
I hide under a rock when it all seems too simple.

Just One Night

Tonight was just one of those nights,
when I couldn’t tap into my self
the way I usually can.
My confidence lingered in the doorway for hours,
and I couldn’t remember how to smile on the outside.

I was waved at and could only blink back.
But I promise nothing was wrong.

It was just one of those nights.
When I was back:
looking though the world in front of me,
like a snow globe, on the outside.
and I just couldn’t find the energy to even shake it.

I sipped the liquid in front of me,
begging it to give me its usual courage.
But it just waded, staring back up at me.
My mind moving faster than the music beat,
while my body sat – motionless–
heavy against the chair.

And my worse fear has returned:

– this one night will become two.

OK

You ask, politely mainly out of concern--
Are you okay?

I turn and say I am fine.
Fine fine fine. Maybe even good.
Since recently I can convince myself of anything.

But whenever I see myself in a mirror
I see my mother staring back at me.

And whenever I see a man
That I may want and feel something
Anything for…one day—
My best friend is there:
Quicker, faster than me.

And I know I shouldn’t,
But I wonder, is it me?

I know I’m good though,
I have the basics down.
How to charm, how to please,
How to make someone love
Me is easy, but how to make
It last is a lesson, I must have
Missed.

All you see is smudged eyeliner,
A sarcastic girl whose lost,
with hair that becomes knotted when
It’s down, a girl who stumbles when
She talks, who slurs when she walks.

But if my father taught me anything,
It’s that there’s a reason for it all.

She is the one who sees her biggest
Imperfections the loudest and can’t
Figure out how to silence them all. She
Hears herself screaming inside and
Often, wants to hide when she finds
Herself around the ones who choose to
Only see a puncture wound they’d
Rather not find a solution to.

She always tells herself to cry later,
Later, later, later. Any time but now.
And sometimes when she is sitting alone
In a bathroom stale she says loudly—
Why doesn’t mine come with a pen?
If an artist is creating something new
Every minute, why isn’t every corner
Prepared with her necessities.

She wants to write, she needs to explain
That she’s not so cold hearted but scared
To be open to a real solution that will quiet
Her pain, that will stifle her silence that
Will reconnect her with the mind she may be losing.


--The worst part if it is,
Is that she reminds herself
That she could have had him
If she really wanted,

And she’ll be kicking herself
Tomorrow, not over too
Many beers, too many
Awkward moments, too many
People who don’t understand
But the moments before she
Closed her eyes before the sun,
She realizes her teeth and brush were left
Undone.

mundane mystery

I'm an asshole
when I'm productive

I'm a drunk
to ward of the inevitable

I'm trying
to make you understand
I'm volatile, I'm an epiphany, I'm an asshole
and if your lucky

I care enough to forget your name,
to make you get bored of searching before you give up.
It's not interesting or even fair
but you've only lost something when you have to find it.

preparing to be miraculous

It's hours before
I'll meet this, child, the details
I know are skeptical and missing needed information
at best.

It's hours before
I'll meet this child
and his Mother all ready
believes I will get him to stop banging his
skull to the tiled bathroom floor, softly
accenting every fourth slam with exceptional
intensity.

It's hours before
I'll meet this child
and I prepare to be miraculous,

before transformation the cigarette burns
to a small, filthy nub between
my pointer finger and thumb
My lips quiver, I lick them rawer with my tongue

It's hours before
I'll meet this child,
my lips form words before I can acknowledge I may
not be talking to just myself, remember to breathe, please
Please god Give me this Gift One More Time.

Latest Assignment- write a poem about love

Being Forced

Being forced to write about love
is like being stuck in a basement,
while paralyzed, with a magnifying lens in hand-
as my first fresh, glass of whiskey spills and slips though a crack in the carpet.

It’s like only wanting to listen
to the eerie silence of a light, blue shadow
but being forced to uncover my ears
to a railroad spike cutting through sheet rock.

It is as if someone is holding my stretchy headband over my eyes
and isn’t letting me see the tiger.
When all I have ever really wanted-was to see a tiger.

Being forced to write about love
is like my sweaty, dirty palms grabbing the sharp edge of an ax
while tears and snot run down my snout
and then someone reminding me that:

all David ever gave me was a sweet potato for my birthday.

finding the trail

drugs are great
they open the eyes
i chew down on mushrooms so hard
i feel the liquid freshness roll down my tongue
piercing the center of the stem

i time myself
to know from what point i will slip to a
better view
I am marching, searching for the trail
the minutes are easy to count
at first
but nothing happens

Until i forget time,
and place, and me and I am
Pleasantly suprised
I live in this world I just don't
take much away from it until
I'm gone

I'm a little girl, again
and I won't come down the mountain to grow up,
like that.
so let the sky and the sea and the tide as their progeny
claim me as lost and I
will be found
whole and alive for the first time.

a wannabe

What do you do
when
you’ve met all the smokers
all the jokers,
all the wanna be cokers?
when
the new hot scene
is already cold and old?

Who do you turn to
when
the city beats you back,
beats you down
when you thought you were the one
with all the control
in the palm of your hand?
when
you miss feeling
larger than life during
those small victories,
that may, in the end,
be nothing?

Where do you go
when
you see that the rain cloud just gets darker and darker
above your head
while watching the soundless lightening storm
above the night sky line just exhausts you?
when
the glamorous dirt under your sink,
the dirt under your fingernails,
is the only sign left
that you once dug for your dreams?

What are you supposed to think
when
over and over again
you feel like crawling under anything
anything at all,
as long as it’s under and deep and far,
away
from where you are now.
when
you’ve been playing a part for so long,
so when the smoke finally lifts from the crowded dive,
so when the city street noise takes a minute to breath,
so when the need to have it all
dies down for just one brief moment,
and you finally, finally, finally
take a look in the mirror
you can hardly remember
when was the last time
you
played
you?

I know,
because sometimes
I think.
I think,
I know that
You wanna be loved.
Loved. And.
You wanna be.
And that’s it.

mismanagementspellingbee

To stay in the game I cover my mouth
to stay in the game I pretend to follow the rules
I strategize, compromise
Feign apathy when appropriate.
I can be this instrument, this well trained tool
I have been trained, bribed in small meek steps
Well,
when it comes to when they ask me
'What would you do if it was your child?'
like my advice is best because it's there,
I'd say, "You shouldn't have to ask if
you cared,"
But I don't I tell them this, I tell the good things
and they tell me lies and they only take him for a night a week
I feign apathy and they feign family
when they fill his head with lies
of vacations they will take him on
next time, and if they asked me what I would do I would
say I wouldn't need to try to act like
he is my son.
I would not hide him from the rest of my life like he is
some dirty affair
There are children hidden in pockets of buildings, in special rooms in schools
The lucky ones find an acceptable combination of medicines and rush to join the flock, march on.

humidity

the air beneath us wells up and rises sticky,
rising like a warning clinging onto our chests
the air beneath us makes our legs go weak
and we are pushed closer to make one and
it's time for good bye, dark the moon covered by
used up night rain clouds wasting in the moonlight
the air beneath us shifts as you spin on one foot
and turn to walk the other way
its your scent that remains that matters
its your scent in the air dressing me like armor
i can face the warning like a warrior
and turn around from this place, and like you
can walk away
ive been warned i may see you again

dry muse

In the future
I will have this all figured out
and I will have the time
to see how little it mattered

something sexy

something sexy
about remembering how well you write
and how well that did not change
something sexy
about feeling like an ass for treating you
like i was a coward
because i am brave, just
not at the right times in the way
that would make this all make sense
something sexy
about remembering the way your lips tensed and shook when
you waited for my response
it's in my head
it's in my mind
it's oblivious to logic
and when i wake, when i least expect
anything
it brings me to my knees