So, hi there. It's your favorite nutter here. I don't know what to write about. This would not be such a problem if I didn't WANT to write so darn bad. I mean BAD. My very fingers are itching with want for words. Maybe I'll just write nonsense for a bit and maybe stumble upon something worth your time. Well nothing I write is really worth your time, but more worth your time than this rubbish. Let's start with made-up swear words. Yes, my parents did not let me swear. They thought it unfitting for a lady and besides that, they were good, well-to-do christian people and thought it too rough, though my mother is from Montana and will swear on occasion when the mood is right. So I made up my own. I admit to some of them being Englishisms, but a good amount are just weirdness. Okay, do any of you have those car radios that scroll the name of the song, artist and radio station in neo-green letterings? That's what mine does. So, it was in-between song name and artist name and the word it made was, and I kid you not, 'Ofithem'. Say it out loud, roll it up and down your tongue, and now shout it as if there are wild, rogue children making an utter mess of your lawn. Gooooood. Fun, innit?
Well, the next came from a game, one where we all ('We all' being my large family) start every word with a set letter, such as 'J' or 'G'. We were playing with 'K'. And as we were laughing at the way swearwords sound with 'K', my 13-year-old brother shakes his head and say "Well I am just not going to join into this." Well, I stated the obvious and said "Good, you're too young, you'll have to wait until you're my age to swear like a motherkucker." And we all fell to pieces. If you are not laughing now, you need to say it out loud. Mother. Kucker. Oh, the hilarity. You still don't think it's funny? Ah well, you must have a normal sense of humor.
So, there is this sandwich place called Baggins. Yes, Baggins. I really have no real story behind this one. I just picked it up, like bloody and bollocks, it just happily slipped itself into my vocabulary and stayed to be hush-shouted under my breath. Wait a minute, I like that, hush-shout. POEM.
Child Yeller (Yellow)
Pup of the Nile
hush-shout under
the glean-green waters
drowning is not what it seems
those bubbly hearts
pump-throbbing as the world
caresses their sun-tones
to sleep, sleep, sleep
but wait a minute
hold the clock
press your peasants hands
to your living heart
and gasp that surprised bubble of air
out into daylight
Our hero is lean, street-dog strong
street-dog trained
swimmer of the night and day
and he will hold the day
to the sun-gods in infamy.
Now, be a good pup of the Nile
and thank your savior
after all that water
has given way to air
and your funeral attendant fishes lie
gasping in the burning-eye sun.
Back to the prior subject. Wait, never mind, I have no more swear words. Meh. Next subject? Umm, whats up with that airplane food......Yep, yours truly has officially come up short on things too say. I need someone else in here to talk to. Tell me you're out there, in the Internet void, enjoying my foolishness. Anyone? Anyone? Okay, well I will be off. I have decided to do something different with these itchy fingers and paint those flowers my mother has been bugging me to. Au revoir my sweets. See you tomorrow.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
I've Been Thinking Too Much
So, I wrote a poem all ee cummings-y. I think it LOOKS quite pretty.
Sound///Splice
(Music)
Sound-
-singing
Lully
b ------Bethica
y ------Yizma
e -----Emmaline
Deep
S Shade of grey
E Eggplants
A Animalistic
[DIVER]
you don't
s y
a
Cometh (giggle)
b
ack to ME
>>swimm
faster<<
{ I. E. love } (Laughter)
Don't you just
S I T
over th-
-ere
and LAUGH
at ME
Sound///Splice
(Music)
Sound-
-singing
Lully
b ------Bethica
y ------Yizma
e -----Emmaline
Deep
S Shade of grey
E Eggplants
A Animalistic
[DIVER]
you don't
s y
a
Cometh (giggle)
b
ack to ME
>>swimm
faster<<
{ I. E. love } (Laughter)
Don't you just
S I T
over th-
-ere
and LAUGH
at ME
Thursday, September 15, 2011
People I Like. (Rare Occurrence.)
So hi there. It's me again. (It always will be until the zombies take over, at which point I take to my guns.) So I decided it was high time to have a poetry day. My poetry, others poetry, and your poetry. (If you so wish) We'll start with others poetry because that fulfills the title shown above. The first is an old buddy of mine, his name is Ian Schmidt. We were tomfools in high school and committed quite a fair bit of tomfoolery. On the more serious side, he is a LOVELY poet. Here's his bit of lovely.
Hey Guys, Why Don't We Speed Up the Tempo and Make it Sound Happier!
Every waking hour
spent, but never used
For all my sleeplessness
I still can't quite refuse...
This is a nightmare of a dream
gag my mouth, plug my ears
so I can't hear myself scream
Try and let go of my fears
I'm breaking by the weight
Of all the stress and all the pain
oh dear please try and understand
how much of this is done vain
[and yet I find myself longing for turmoil
A reason, to forget
something bigger to regret...]
Drift off into sleep
And let the sickness overtake me
I'm a fool to think I'd care
And I'm too dead to feel your heartbeat
So dear please disregard my charm
and ignore my crafty words
Oh I can't tell you all I've heard,
Because I'm still just so unsure
[Of what I meant]
We watched the sky
As if it's distance would
Somehow make us closer
We heard the waves
As if their breaking would
make us hold together
Oh but the sky
Grew cold and dark
And the waves
Let up lost heart
And though we tried
We could not find
The question keeping us apart
So there was you
And here is me
And all I've left
is endless sea
And we are left
with nothingness
And nothing but
Our broken dreams
My dear please understand
That when I fail, I didn't mean to hurt you
You know I've tried but can't
say what I meant, say anything
It's these things
I always miss
my passiveness
will be my end
But if you let me
I will try
Oh I will fail
But I will try
At least I'll try.
A Timeless Voyage
We began our voyage
down by the river's edge
we walked on for ages
with no sight of the end
We braved mountains and cliff tops,
and great creatures of evil
through the caves, on we marched
for the lives of our people
We go on,
as if there's no choice
with no thought
to the danger ahead
but some day,
you will hear my voice
i'll burn away
all the doubt in your head
i can't quite recall,
the last time i saw light
as the air grows thicker
and our eyes grow wide
straining to see
there, a shimmer of hope
a passage to surface
the way back home
We go on,
as if there's no choice
with no thought
to the danger ahead
but some day,
you will hear my voice
i'll burn away
all the doubt in your head
my dear, don't worry your soul
All these years we've crusaded
for a king far away,
with unquestioned faith
in his will
but i'm starting to doubt
that we'll ever be the same
i've realized our king
had no care for our lives
We go on,
as if there's no choice
with no thought
to the danger ahead
but some day,
you will hear my voice
i'll burn away
all the doubt in your head
My love don't,
cry in the night
for i wont
be gone for much longer
keep searching
the western horizon
when my singing
reaches your ears
i'll be home soon,
be home with you
Yeah, I know. He is a bit long-winded. That's why I like 'im. How 'bout we throw another of his in and move on to the next? Sound good to me, and you have no say in it.
Hey Guys, Why Don't We Speed Up the Tempo and Make it Sound Happier!
Every waking hour
spent, but never used
For all my sleeplessness
I still can't quite refuse...
This is a nightmare of a dream
gag my mouth, plug my ears
so I can't hear myself scream
Try and let go of my fears
I'm breaking by the weight
Of all the stress and all the pain
oh dear please try and understand
how much of this is done vain
[and yet I find myself longing for turmoil
A reason, to forget
something bigger to regret...]
Drift off into sleep
And let the sickness overtake me
I'm a fool to think I'd care
And I'm too dead to feel your heartbeat
So dear please disregard my charm
and ignore my crafty words
Oh I can't tell you all I've heard,
Because I'm still just so unsure
[Of what I meant]
We watched the sky
As if it's distance would
Somehow make us closer
We heard the waves
As if their breaking would
make us hold together
Oh but the sky
Grew cold and dark
And the waves
Let up lost heart
And though we tried
We could not find
The question keeping us apart
So there was you
And here is me
And all I've left
is endless sea
And we are left
with nothingness
And nothing but
Our broken dreams
My dear please understand
That when I fail, I didn't mean to hurt you
You know I've tried but can't
say what I meant, say anything
It's these things
I always miss
my passiveness
will be my end
But if you let me
I will try
Oh I will fail
But I will try
At least I'll try.
A Timeless Voyage
We began our voyage
down by the river's edge
we walked on for ages
with no sight of the end
We braved mountains and cliff tops,
and great creatures of evil
through the caves, on we marched
for the lives of our people
We go on,
as if there's no choice
with no thought
to the danger ahead
but some day,
you will hear my voice
i'll burn away
all the doubt in your head
i can't quite recall,
the last time i saw light
as the air grows thicker
and our eyes grow wide
straining to see
there, a shimmer of hope
a passage to surface
the way back home
We go on,
as if there's no choice
with no thought
to the danger ahead
but some day,
you will hear my voice
i'll burn away
all the doubt in your head
my dear, don't worry your soul
All these years we've crusaded
for a king far away,
with unquestioned faith
in his will
but i'm starting to doubt
that we'll ever be the same
i've realized our king
had no care for our lives
We go on,
as if there's no choice
with no thought
to the danger ahead
but some day,
you will hear my voice
i'll burn away
all the doubt in your head
My love don't,
cry in the night
for i wont
be gone for much longer
keep searching
the western horizon
when my singing
reaches your ears
i'll be home soon,
be home with you
Yeah, I know. He is a bit long-winded. That's why I like 'im. How 'bout we throw another of his in and move on to the next? Sound good to me, and you have no say in it.
A Simple Sonnet.
I'm amused at the repetition,
and meaninglessness we endure
conclusions drawn from superstition
they think will make us pure
we're trapped inside a cage
with quite a modest view
if all the world's a stage
we're sitting in the pews
there's so much else to see
than what they have to offer
there's so much more to be
than just another scoffer
we were made, set apart
we had purpose, from the start
I made him write a sonnet. And thus was born this beast of the east. I admit to loving it. Don't tell anybody though. If you want more of this lovely gentleman, just ask. He has no link for me to give. So sad, too bad. MOVING ON!
These next few are by a rising artist named Andrew James Stone. He is destined for greatness I tell you. Or at least a life of poverty and greatness after he dies....But aren't we all (Twirls villain moustaches.) He is based out of LA but I imagine will soon move to somewhere less sunny and more poetic. I like to imagine Seattle or Prague.
The Lovers
She cried,
as she read her poem to the class
of expressionless art students, teasing
her with their indifference. She
lamented Rene’s Lover’s, mourned
their anticlimactic kiss beneath
ill-ravened sheets until her pathetic life…
a man that never knew the existence
of a slender girl with brown hair,
brown skin, brown eyes, and a bleeding
heart– are swallowed by sobs in oil on canvas.
If I remember correctly, that one is based off a painting, but I scarce remember which one. I do know that it's titled 'The Lovers'. Now, these next three, I believe, got published somewhere but again my sad, small memory fails me. I need a new memory card...
Creature in the Boss’s Office
Pinstriped scalp. Warty knuckles. Werewolf arms. Polka dot rash covering his ass. Tree stump feet. Hamburger thighs and tattoo eyes. Fish hook claws and tattered paws. Bulbesque chest. Black cat whiskers and toucan lips. Dandruff lobes and linoleum hips. Crocodile nose. Pastel toes. Vampirecosm teeth protrude from his gums. Crab thumbs.
Fuck you asshole, he’s my son.
I'm amused at the repetition,
and meaninglessness we endure
conclusions drawn from superstition
they think will make us pure
we're trapped inside a cage
with quite a modest view
if all the world's a stage
we're sitting in the pews
there's so much else to see
than what they have to offer
there's so much more to be
than just another scoffer
we were made, set apart
we had purpose, from the start
I made him write a sonnet. And thus was born this beast of the east. I admit to loving it. Don't tell anybody though. If you want more of this lovely gentleman, just ask. He has no link for me to give. So sad, too bad. MOVING ON!
These next few are by a rising artist named Andrew James Stone. He is destined for greatness I tell you. Or at least a life of poverty and greatness after he dies....But aren't we all (Twirls villain moustaches.) He is based out of LA but I imagine will soon move to somewhere less sunny and more poetic. I like to imagine Seattle or Prague.
The Lovers
She cried,
as she read her poem to the class
of expressionless art students, teasing
her with their indifference. She
lamented Rene’s Lover’s, mourned
their anticlimactic kiss beneath
ill-ravened sheets until her pathetic life…
a man that never knew the existence
of a slender girl with brown hair,
brown skin, brown eyes, and a bleeding
heart– are swallowed by sobs in oil on canvas.
If I remember correctly, that one is based off a painting, but I scarce remember which one. I do know that it's titled 'The Lovers'. Now, these next three, I believe, got published somewhere but again my sad, small memory fails me. I need a new memory card...
Creature in the Boss’s Office
Pinstriped scalp. Warty knuckles. Werewolf arms. Polka dot rash covering his ass. Tree stump feet. Hamburger thighs and tattoo eyes. Fish hook claws and tattered paws. Bulbesque chest. Black cat whiskers and toucan lips. Dandruff lobes and linoleum hips. Crocodile nose. Pastel toes. Vampirecosm teeth protrude from his gums. Crab thumbs.
Fuck you asshole, he’s my son.
Wrong Way Out
Creatures hid themselves in the wind, their echoes seeping through the cracks in the wall once occupied by a door. It was a black night. Rain lashed against my sinking roof. I covered myself with blankets, but they ghosted through. I never saw them but I knew they were there. Creatures coffinized my melting heart, their voices possessed my soul and led me to an open door ready to lock me inside.
Creatures hid themselves in the wind, their echoes seeping through the cracks in the wall once occupied by a door. It was a black night. Rain lashed against my sinking roof. I covered myself with blankets, but they ghosted through. I never saw them but I knew they were there. Creatures coffinized my melting heart, their voices possessed my soul and led me to an open door ready to lock me inside.
The Man and His Box
Men shouted “fuck” and “shit” as the machine guns fired metal balls through the screaming wind. Blood dashed circles around my mind. Eyes, mouth, ears, nose shattered like glass. Kids fell to the ground screaming in agony and a voice inside my head laughs laughter. But how? My soul cringes at the carnage and unhinges from my body. Sweat clouds my forehead and that damn laughter says: Relax dude, it’s just a movie.
Ain't he a darling? I get the feeling he will eventually change the world. Well everyone will change the world, just some in more subtle ways than others. His, I believe, will be less subtle. Oh, and here is the link to his blog and thus access to more of his brilliance. You're welcome. http://andrewjstone.blogspot.com/2011/09/magic-cat-and-music.html?spref=fb And yes, I do realize he is an intense fellow.
Men shouted “fuck” and “shit” as the machine guns fired metal balls through the screaming wind. Blood dashed circles around my mind. Eyes, mouth, ears, nose shattered like glass. Kids fell to the ground screaming in agony and a voice inside my head laughs laughter. But how? My soul cringes at the carnage and unhinges from my body. Sweat clouds my forehead and that damn laughter says: Relax dude, it’s just a movie.
Ain't he a darling? I get the feeling he will eventually change the world. Well everyone will change the world, just some in more subtle ways than others. His, I believe, will be less subtle. Oh, and here is the link to his blog and thus access to more of his brilliance. You're welcome. http://andrewjstone.blogspot.com/2011/09/magic-cat-and-music.html?spref=fb And yes, I do realize he is an intense fellow.
Well, that is all of others poetry. I know, I know, I am lacking in the poet-friends area. What I lack in quantity, I make up in talent.
My turn. Yep, I saved the best for last. (Cue wry face) Always a good thing to do, saving the best for last, Except with Skittles, by the time you get to the good ones your mouth is all thick-sugary and tastes too much like high fructose corn syrup. Alright, well, here goes...
Make Believe (this is)
Little Robby Cottontail
was a-hoppin' in the jungle
and a spotty Mcspottypants
leopard
swung in from a vine
and ate him
up
down
and all around
so sad
too bad
sure hope
his millionannahalf
brothers and sisters
don't miss him
I bet they've forgotten about him
right about now.
Ballgame
Louis or Louie
hit the ball
with a slugger
a real slugger
that knocked it
far far away
to never ever after
and spent
the next ten
twenty
tick-tocks
Little Robby Cottontail
was a-hoppin' in the jungle
and a spotty Mcspottypants
leopard
swung in from a vine
and ate him
up
down
and all around
so sad
too bad
sure hope
his millionannahalf
brothers and sisters
don't miss him
I bet they've forgotten about him
right about now.
Ballgame
Louis or Louie
hit the ball
with a slugger
a real slugger
that knocked it
far far away
to never ever after
and spent
the next ten
twenty
tick-tocks
on the clock
talking about it all
Liar
If everyone were
to lie through
their teeth, tongues and noses
would it whistle and shudder
like a lone wolf-child
or click-clack-clatter
like claws on a typewriter
If I asked you to read this again
and tell me it was good
what would it sound like
through your teeth, tongue and nose?
If everyone were
to lie through
their teeth, tongues and noses
would it whistle and shudder
like a lone wolf-child
or click-clack-clatter
like claws on a typewriter
If I asked you to read this again
and tell me it was good
what would it sound like
through your teeth, tongue and nose?
Salmon-coloured Salmon
It's a racetrack down there
and if I were
a them or a they
I would toss in a 'baby'
and sing-song it
like old man kangaroo
But I'm not
and we're not
so let's just be
spring-summer-winter salmon
and swim backwards
up-stream
and just be so mixed up
that we turn a full circle
back
to
normal.
Oh Love
It's a racetrack down there
and if I were
a them or a they
I would toss in a 'baby'
and sing-song it
like old man kangaroo
But I'm not
and we're not
so let's just be
spring-summer-winter salmon
and swim backwards
up-stream
and just be so mixed up
that we turn a full circle
back
to
normal.
Oh Love
I would make life a dream weave
If I dared have a chance with it
I have those clumsy fingers
But I would dare it
if you'd come along for the ride
a trip to the land of Cush
and back again to wherever we were
You and I, we get along swimmingly
deep out there in the Great Green Sea
I left for a moment, just a moment
to kiss the sun at it's zenith
but you weren't there
and my heart then hung undone
so I came back to you and your arms
I won't leave if you don't
Deal?
Alright, I know there's more of me than others, but hey, I have more guns in my weaponry. Give me that will ya? Well in other news, my 'blogger fro' is growing out from it's 'normal person' stubble, I have perfected the settling of my thick, hipster glasses on my nose and my skin is stay-inside-day-in-and-out pale. I've got this blogger deal DOWN.
Buffalo Gal cancha come out tonight, cancha come out tonight, cancha come out tonight, Buffalo Gal cancha come out toniiiiiiight, and dance by the light of the mooooon.
Well, as always, Banksy is a fantastic lawbreaker, The Clash made great music and if you don't like me, follow the blog and file your formal complaint, that'll show me.
MUSIC
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Happy News
Good newsWorld Wide Webbers! Your favorite nut just got published! Heh, I didn't specify who the good news was benefiting.... Anywhooooo, The Rainbow Rose has been so gracious to me by allowing my nuttiness to pollute their webpage and for that I am thankful. So, thanks. Here's the link....http://therainbowroseezine.blogspot.com/ You may need to scroll down a bit, I didn't check my email for a bit. SCHOOL. That is my excuse. An excuse I shall not be able to use in a few years...bollocks, whatever shall I do then... Anyway, the moral of this blog is good things come to those who check their emails. And with that I bid you adeu, I have made myself productive and now I am going to make a very bad decision and do little else. Hope your day brings you joy and productivity, Happy Sunday.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
I'm back....didja miss me?
Hellooooo down there...slow going? Alright, this one never got publish, never will, mainly because I never tried...that might be the problem. But some things just never do. This Beast of the East is about 'The Jungle' Y'know, the novel by Upton Sinclair that changed the food industry and helped the working class? You don't? That's okay. I still love you. Anyway.
Into the Jungle
A beefy underling
sweeping the entrails
a dime for his time
thick 'n' red like the sun
under the dust and blood-mud
peasant hands
deft and clever
good at what they do.
Lunch with lard
instead of butter
a dime won't buy much
he who has know
no other
than the curve of a back
that holds
the weight of the sun
and the pin-bright stars.
A sun-dried tomato
work-shriveled until it is
alienated from it's original self
He is a cog
among other cogs
and when he grows rust
he is replaced
that's just the facts, honey
because in this day and age
a human
may not be
such a terrible thing to waste.
So yes. I do realize it's depressing nature. But I am an artist and I do what I want. So toodle-oo.
Into the Jungle
A beefy underling
sweeping the entrails
a dime for his time
thick 'n' red like the sun
under the dust and blood-mud
peasant hands
deft and clever
good at what they do.
Lunch with lard
instead of butter
a dime won't buy much
he who has know
no other
than the curve of a back
that holds
the weight of the sun
and the pin-bright stars.
A sun-dried tomato
work-shriveled until it is
alienated from it's original self
He is a cog
among other cogs
and when he grows rust
he is replaced
that's just the facts, honey
because in this day and age
a human
may not be
such a terrible thing to waste.
So yes. I do realize it's depressing nature. But I am an artist and I do what I want. So toodle-oo.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Let's get this party started
Okay random blank-faced Internet users, here is the most most most recent publishment. In fact, it is so recent, it is not even up on the site. So you are in the good here buddies...'cause I love you all, every single stranger...
Vlad
I was the shadow
of a waxwing slain
sullen and sodden
plain as a Jane
but I suppose
that is well beyond
your concern
so close me down
ford me up
hide me in
that pages of a library book
where I belong
along romance and jokers
goodbye goodbye
forget me not
or do
if it makes you feel any better
Yes, I know it lacks punctuation. I happen to lazy. But we in the business call it creative liberties. Anyway, here's the site link, visit it, I happen to love it a fair amount, if that influences you at all.... http://thecamelsaloon.blogspot.com/
Here's one I didn't even try to publish, probably because I wrote in on the side of my arm in semi-darkness at around 2 AM. I rarely give my two AM ideas much more than a second thought but where's a better place to say stupid things than the Internet?
Mr. Perfect
If an Einstein
were a real Einstein
he and I would be very happy
flirting and currying each others favor
and lew of pay raises
but y'know
that's the way love goes
and goes goes goes
right honey?
Alright, that is all folks. Go back to your normal well-adjusted lives...
Vlad
I was the shadow
of a waxwing slain
sullen and sodden
plain as a Jane
but I suppose
that is well beyond
your concern
so close me down
ford me up
hide me in
that pages of a library book
where I belong
along romance and jokers
goodbye goodbye
forget me not
or do
if it makes you feel any better
Yes, I know it lacks punctuation. I happen to lazy. But we in the business call it creative liberties. Anyway, here's the site link, visit it, I happen to love it a fair amount, if that influences you at all.... http://thecamelsaloon.blogspot.com/
Here's one I didn't even try to publish, probably because I wrote in on the side of my arm in semi-darkness at around 2 AM. I rarely give my two AM ideas much more than a second thought but where's a better place to say stupid things than the Internet?
Mr. Perfect
If an Einstein
were a real Einstein
he and I would be very happy
flirting and currying each others favor
and lew of pay raises
but y'know
that's the way love goes
and goes goes goes
right honey?
Alright, that is all folks. Go back to your normal well-adjusted lives...
Oh, I have to title this rubbish?
First blog post. Oh, now I feel all internety....I need an internet fro and some hipster clothes. I don't know where I would get those. The hipsters just won't tell me. Okay, I sould probably tell you what this steaming pile of rubbish is going to be about so you can decide what to do and all. I plan to blatently self-promote, randomly assult you with my poetry and generally blabber on about the strange thoughts that pass my mind. It sounds fun to me. If it does to you, you may need to talk to your doctor.
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