Words To Live By? These aren't them. Are they?

22 years, and I ask, what thing have I learned that I can say, "This is the truth"? Maybe there's a few, but it feels that each demands that I stand behind some 'ism', or that I choose to 'see' some cosmic pattern... or perhaps a human pattern.... right now, all I know is now....

My Dream

It is my dream
to have a space, a huge room with bare white walls,
and large windows,
a bright space to work,
with a desk as big as god, a typewriter on it,
paper everywhere, pens nearby,
a never ending bottle of scotch,
and a woman, who comes and goes
but always comes home to sleep

she always comes home to me

Release

Your nose burns before you cry,
then you take a deep breath,
exhale, and an ocean of you
flows away.

I'm begging you to help me,
I know this is the path to
rightness.

My one path.

It's Over

Put on some Elliot Smith, and set myself on fire
Goodnight, it's over, so sleeps a liar.

This is becoming too personal...

What can I say, for fiction and non fiction blur and I'll tell anything just to tell.....

anything.

We're still spinning around something though;

so I can't deny the possibility that someone is watching over "us" and keeping "things "

afloat.

I can't deny that perhaps some[thing/one] sympathizes and ponders the idea of "action".

Does anyone DO anything for anyone else anymore?

Does this happen? I'm no authority; although I will perhaps attempt to instigate.

Fuck

That Bitch

Though.

See how complicated it becomes.

And so easily.

Title of sorts....

Okay, so.

From the mouth of Him/ It.

He says, "This is where we've come."

That's all so far. Really. Success is measured in toothpicks, success is dollars saved.

Success is you not questioning all the things I've raved and when I spill a secret, you not mentioning the black.

I've seen, I've heard of all the cock I can hear about and see, the begging sex that's simply too much to satisfy... too much. This city is a box, so find the corners, see if you fill them, and if not, give up.

Give up Daniel Black. It's not yours to say.

It's is a drum line, a pulsing beat, a drunken female with an agenda - not yours.

That film we sat through made no sense in the end. It had some aesthetic appeal throughout but in the end, it was a seductive journey through nothing.

Through nothing.

What did I learn.

I learned nothing.

I learned so much on my own though.

I learned to put a metal spike through a man's neck,

to get what I want, to get what we all want; sometimes,

in some extreme circumstance,

it is necessary.

So says "the way".

So says....

Nothing at all.

An exercise in

saying nothing at all.

Us & Them

Greedy pig-bastards.

Freak

That seedy freak, he took his hands and he squirmed and fidgeted and I knew something was foul, the way he kept looking at his watch and then the door. I could taste his anxiety.

Sales

He shook my hand and took my fingers

Heart Conditions

I'm pretty sure a bad heart is gonna do me in.... I'll be alone.

I'll try not to despair.

A Return: 2

...and the glass is empty, and it's time to decide,

"sleep, or one-hundred-miles-an-hour living in my deskchair".

This moment, and everything lately, is one breathtaking, eye fucking

string of platitudes.

(Questioning or calling out those weak attempts at deepness, as pretentious is another story. Don't ask questions)

Soul seducing, trust inducing, my ears are literally screaming at my mouth

to "take it take it take it!" and my IS is ready to BE in love with everything.....

My love is a dog with a cocked head and a full bladder.

Its tail is all

over

the fucking

room.

If you could hear the bass drum and the muted snare going wild in my chest,

you'd be close to understanding the seizure I'm having right now.....

Repeat repeat repeat,

revel revel revel.

This is Life!

A Return

Oh yes, a return, signaled by a mighty silence,

a white noise and a wholly unremarkable, quiet breathing.

I've come back to say a few things. Tonight I pan fried my steak

and I burnt the blue fuck out of it. I listened to this album thirty

something times over and then I masturbated chronically,

wishing that John Holmes were still "doing it his way".

It's so seedy. I feel like an animal. But my soul is clenching.

It feels so fucking good.

Maybe I'll drink myself to death.

Okay, so I cracked a window, the smoke cleared, I did the dishes, I sat at my computer and contemplated success. I wrote emails and kissed a lot of ass, and then I wrote more emails.

It was nice to be home; I've been in that huge city for weeks.

I absolutely, love

We Thought We Won

We've come so fucking far,

we've

come so fucking far,

And now we give up for

cheap breakfast,

Costco deals, box sets like you can't EVEN believe

Because we've come so far and we think that

THIS, it is,

We've conquered it,

Western Materialism is our science,

our perfect craft.

Our comfort is a finger snap.

Our comfort is easy.

We've given up and

we don't know.

Nuclear, brownskinned, hungry, thirsty,

ambitious, underdog

change is coming.

Wronger

Those 'live by the day' fuckers, I bet they've never seen a real tomato, the kind that we used to grow before the green in the sky.

Something's happening again, but it doesn't matter anymore, something's always happening,

so it just is.

They're living by the day and planning in their sleep, their cubicles like empty stomachs but knowing they'll return,

how many have forgotten the color of a smile,

how many have forgotten time,

fuck it, the old man was right and we're not able to govern ourselves.

I don't remember the moon and I can't see plum any longer,

as I go forward my memory goes wronger.

Becoming...

Needs to do something drastic. Considering arson. Just need for something to happen.

Set a few of you on fire. Laugh. Those of you who don't provide everything I want, when I want it. Not able to read my mind. I'm becoming more important in my life all the time... my needs are getting hungrier. Like insatiable headline news.

I'm aware of how wrong I am becoming. And I'm aware of how quietly it's happened.

No one's noticed anything...

There Isn't Enough Praise, Sex or Money in The World For Me

The only score is sitting it out,

in dreamless sleep.

You're just an Idea to them

The name is so much more important than the man,

the flesh forgotten for the word that carried meaning

from the paper to the crowd the crowd the bleating

masses breathing need for anything to believe in.

The name is so much more important than the man.

It is...

With the killer hands, the lips all red,

your favorite eyes all rounded out and

almond shaped,

to take the light from my old place

to take the days and days,

and take the time that we had left,

to take the place of seven sisters holding on

to the child of your deepest heart,

your heart

To save, with the killer hands,

to save a life and kiss the reddest lips,

that's the wish that you whispered in my ear,

but no, it's better than that,

because you die in the morning,

suddenly, it's the most beautiful thing

I've ever seen,

suddenly...

It just is...

Sense of Direction

If I'm walking toward the back of a moving bus, what speed am I traveling and in which direction?

And if I'm walking toward the back of a moving bus, driving on the surface of this planet hurtling around the sun, what speed am I traveling, and again, in which direction?

And if I'm walking toward the back of a moving bus, crossing the surface of this planet hurtling around the sun, the sun a speck in this galaxy careening through the universe, what speed am I traveling, and again, in which direction?

I guess I want to know,

Where am I going and how am I getting there?

Moment

Indeed the love that I have has touched a place in your hand,

in your palm, a crease that tells a story of the future eating

away at the past,

and the now is an intangible moment,

a beautiful

fucking

blur.

Wrong

A calm like a life

a home like a hat

a cell in the mouth

a ticket to last

A pocket like dreams

a joining of wind

a second hand kiss

a moment of skin

A letter in red

a blanket for lies

a favor for trust

this impossible height

Wake me up

Wake me up

A friendship erased

a guilt, my guilt

not yet faced

Hungry

Most definitely racking up caloric deficit,

Overdrawing on my body's credit,

No time, no god damn time to catch up,

My appetite fled with the season,

Fled with the season

Fled with the season

But when can I?

The things I'm made of now, like

a draw towards the aesthetic, a

tugging for something real yet vague and

undefined,

it has my name written on it, it was

in my dna, my blood

22 years now it's been waiting but I

haven't manifested its

ism.

I haven't done it, I haven't

been

it.

I have to wait.

I can't die yet.

Nearly Constantly Misguided or A Flawed Perspective

Halting the ark,

when you fuse my sadness with lips,

touch hands with fingertips

and pray that mother don't succumb

Halting the ark, the arched back

upon my mattress sends shivers through my spine

and I, I, fuck with dispassion and furious strength

all at once

Halting the ark because I'm drunk and I need to vomit,

the world spins against itself, orbitally clockwise

while the liquor spins counter-

this truth is cruel

Woman

Friend

Where are you tonight?

Why have these four years been so wrong?

Because I am not pathetic I've been strong.

But strength misguided faults everything.

For Myself

As if the Ocean chewed the stone to make the cliff,

and battered everything and everything,

we came to the water's edge

to find our own truth within the romantic.

It turns out that they told no lies,

and all I know is

they told no lies.

1:27

I like a heavy scotch glass

rum, coke

the absent stillness marrying frantic silence

and wrapped in a blanket of foam liquor insulation

Real emotions actually rise for once

but bloom too early, never reach the surface

fade

I'm indescribably grey again

2010 Version 2.1

I have to tell you something.

I'm sorry.

Because I was masturbating while you were pouring your heart out to me last night

on MSN.

I'm sorry,

that this computer screen in front of me is a fogged window that I control,

that I use to keep you at a distance.

I'm sorry, that you only see what I want you to.

Profile: polished.

Stats: carefully biased.

Likes: tailored to help me

fit in.

This mask is powered by Google.

This multi coloured cloak was designed on Facebook.

My soul is a One and a mother-FUCK load of Zeros

stored on a server somewhere in California.

I'm [not] sorry.

10:40

When I couldn't stop the water from falling from my hands

and I couldn't keep the carpet dry

I had no place to sleep, I had no place to sleep

The cigarettes burned themselves to peaceful endings

my lungs were thankful but my lips pleaded

My goldfish watched

Tired, Mad, Sobering

Television, oh God, stop!

Really, it's obnoxious.

Who was on the phone? Uh, just, later.

Where's the time gone? I had so much to do,

and then I had a few drinks.

Lazy fuck, or distracted- GOD!

I can't take the noise.

Toronto, fuck you.

Cement, queers, ugly

fucking

shoes,

go to hell.

This angry spill is...

angry!

Or should I be more articulate?

Something like,

if lips could touch the soul,

I'd kiss my sad rage into your heart,

breathe sorry for me into your mouth

and take

if lips could touch the soul,

I'd paint chapstick all over and

kiss/fix your cracked and swollen spirit

only to doubt you

And still, after all that,

the television is being an asshole.

Twisted Gut

"At my desk again, sick to my stomach with the self loathing of realizing I'm not achieving my full potential.

My peers don't inspire me, I react to their success with waves of nihilistic self-doubt; despair.

I need to share with someone wise the neuroses that hold me back.

I need a mentor who won't attempt to console me pathetically, who won't patronize me.

I need someone to tell me what to do."

Planets

You give me gifts

planets within

I have never been more grateful

to a woman, to a friend

for stars and planets collide after

millions of years of their dancing

love

and the space remembers everything

Irving jumpier

Irving Jumpier

strange man but always a friend

he left only his dark dark desk behind

and a broken pen

inkpot empty, miles deep

human mice were friends to keep

Irving Jumpier was a liar on paper but he spoke well

Perspective In Wheat Fields

Our home stands delicate and loved

weathered boards, splintered faces

a skeleton

coal grey skin, trembling fingers

the horses here only shiver now

our home breathes dusty air

the smell of hay and cool soil

on the road is Dog

my friend

he's getting on in years

the fence that runs our meadow hunches low now

sore backed, ragged

the wind and rain have beaten it down

so long now

and all this swims in the snowglobe in my mind while I think

only seventy generations we've come

seventy lives of seventy years

the trembling farmhouse doesn't seem so old anymore

Sleep Talk

Leave a man at the door leave hands in pockets

leave wishes and rose petal voodoo

leave smoke

leave more

Leave seven pm alone leave the ice cream cone torch bearer

golden lock, cherub cheek, ice-cream-cone-torch-bearer gift from god himself

leave the book and the thorn

Leave your heart of scorn

and leave your questions

Where I've been is nobody's mind

So leave mine

Inventory

I have

Sore thumbs,

No money,

A bit of a buzz,

A little love,

Tired friends,

Sirens,

Restless hands,

Tired eyes,

An empty glass,

Crossed legs,

Quiet vinyl,

1:30 on the clock,

Tired friends,

Not much time,

An urgent need to urinate,

Rum munchies,

A little love,

Sirens,

A heavy stomach,

Hunger

I've got

So much

To learn

15,000

I know what I want but I hate how I'm getting there.

Frustration Ad Nauseum

I want to open up my head and let in the Universe

Let what Is flow into me without the blur of these primitive senses

Five senses, all jumbled and begging for attention and colliding

In this mind at this moment

The I wants to explode with the frustration

The Overwhelm

***

Imagine a glass jar filled with water floating in the ocean,

the only way for the atoms and molecules to share themselves

is to pass slowly, eternally slowly through the glass.

I'm dying to pop that lid off and be with the Ocean.

Funny, I think dying is what it takes.

Quiet

Cancer mouth

Speak freely of the face you saw

Schizophrenic diary, dual entry

Paint a picture in blood

Paint a picture in guts

The more morbid, the better the story

Be a dark one, paint a dark face

Put your hands into the hole

Put yourself into the grave

Sleep and be free

Cancer mouth

Sleep to me speak

Speak to me running blood

Run blood to the valley of my dreams

Dream me the answer

Answer my riddle

Riddle my night

Night, a cold place

The Earth a quiet time

Sleep to me speak

Speak to me of Earth

Killer

Midnight 1 A:M 2 A:M 3 A:M Sing

How bout we open up

Logic and mind to three ideas

One, Love

Two, Peace

Three, Earth

Idiot, industry won't save your skin

Idiot, I won't be found within the city city beating heart

the city city beating life

Hey,

go outside and

see the sun, your mother sun

sing thank you

sing

Struggle

Swallow your pride, with a little salt water,

with the tide

Tell him anything, tell lies

Overboard there's a squid and an ancient sailor

Be the raft, be the life preserver

Overboard there's a squid and an ancient sailor

Please just be the calming of the water

These Days

I've got a Love so hungry, it's chewing holes in my chest

And I'm aimlessly leaping only to find myself choked

on a three day chain

Jeremy The Tall

I am Jeremy The Villain, three eyed

peanut butter fingered eight years old

and caped in red

A stick, a stone, dirty handed and alone

on the street where I will grow up until I'm ninety two

I am the Red Racer, and a kite running genius,

the King of hide and never found

I invented anti-gravity the same day that I

wrote a novel about my adventures with trees,

trees that spoke that speak to me and bark the night to birds

I am Jeremy The Terror, mortal enemy of the closet monster,

the business suit tentacled psychopath, a man shrouded in cancerous black

I've seen his briefcase, seen the eyes that peer from keyholes deep deep deep

Keyholes meant to keep

I am Jeremy The Strong

I am Jeremy the Tall

I am Jeremy Whatever I Wanna Be

Liquor and Peanut Butter Granola

On a Friday night

A Song For 2035

The sun is in your eyes

and it comes as no surprise

when you're lying on your back in the field where you grew up

Thinking about clouds tattooed on palms so old

staring into all the holes where God might be

Exploring all the space around you

tearing up the place to find the

questions to the answers and you haven't got the cancer

but you know the burning know the burning

in your palms

The sun is in your eyes

while the river bed it dries

so you lie upon your back and sing the songs of dissolution

The sun is in your eyes

while the field openly cries

to God to God about the poison in its Earth

It can no more give birth to seed to root to bleed to human fruit

it cannot grow or gray or give

it cannot any longer live

The sun is in your eyes

as the Earth it slowly dies

as the madmen hypnotize each other

signing the God songs of war

And sadly,

I don't believe that art, love or lsd can save us.

A Dark Song

Sixty years of a smile I imagined I had mastered

And all that time I smiled through disaster

Sixty hours isn't comin any faster

Well now I'm the slave,

and you're the master.

Watching

A man sits down at a desk, the chair legs whining across the old wooden floor

He lays down a single sheet of paper and a pen

For a while, he stares at the paper, and then his hands, and then again at the paper

He begins to write

His writing is long and sad, elegant in its melancholy,

The words spill on to the pages like tears, he writes

In the audience, no one talks, all eyes are on him,

In his boxer shorts, a t-shirt, an old button up

Fake sunlight pours through a fake window into his fake room

The stage is the only place alive in that moment, all eyes, all souls existing for his story

He finishes, he leaves the paper, he walks out the door

The audience is alone

Halos and Hard-ons

Don't confuse wanting to fuck a woman

with believing in God

A Song For No More Heaven

I was lost

in the wilderness

in despair,

disrepair

with a hollow,

with a horror

with sand

in my pockets

And Jesus

he found me

he told me

heaven's gone

So I sat down

by a river

and I cast my

soul to see

There were mountains

there was water

endless water

open sea

There were mountains

there was water

endless water

all for me

And then Jesus

sat beside me

and I asked him

what he'd do

No more heaven

no more salvation

no more prayer for

eternity

And he told me

to stay here

by the river

with my soul at sea

With the mountains

with the water

endless water

open sea

With the mountains

with the water

endless water

all for me

I'm Not Crazy

I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you I could love you.

"I'm not crazy," he said, furiously scratching his pen across the page. "I'm not crazy, and they can fuck themselves if they try to make me believe it for an instant."

"Relax James, you're going to burst something." Steven was usually right about these things, but his determination to offer unhelpful advice was bordering on sinister. James straightened up from his hunched position over the desk. He glanced once more at his testament to passion and then took the papers and placed them alone in an empty drawer.

Meanwhile, we're all born with mothers, but some of us have lost them.

Kodachrome Loveletter

Last Sunday, in the orchard by your favorite pear tree

you said, "Stop, the light is good here,"

and you took your camera, and fiddled the knob

and dialed the fiddles and you adjusted something,

just right

And you said, "Now hold still, I love you."

Snap

Now I know it's a beautiful summer, and I think that you love me,

but winters come and love isn't always an Evergreen

What I'm trying to tell you is this,

that a picture's worth a thousand words and you just caught

a thousand of my best

Like honesty, kindness, gentle, forever...

But I've got more words than all your Kodachrome could capture

Like marry me...

I want you to keep more than just my film,

Keep me