Another Alaska Photo

Cinnamon Gum

Farewell, my little temptress
I’m through trying to impress you
I think
I think I think too much
I’m depressed and distressed
And though I kind of miss you
We have issues we can’t resolve
That won’t dissolve in a glass of whisky
Just hanging out feels risky
I feel frisky all the same
Is it you or me to blame?
Am I too lazy to look beyond you?
We’re too crazy to be Beyonce and Jay-Z
And too white
Can’t fight that
Or talk it through on facebook chat
Two hipsters throwing out the welcome mat
For each other’s demons
Seeming innocuous while probing for defects
I don’t need a pretext
To do the wrong thing
I can write that song, sing it solo
Can you tell me what we shared, though?
A day on the indie rock scene
What’s it mean?
Summer breezes
Sunlight shining through the trees
But Jesus, it was gray as hell
Like you said, I can’t dispel that notion
Feeling swell but riding swells of emotion
Up and down like the ocean
Did we get high or low looking through each other’s eyes
To the twisted souls inside?
I’m dismayed you can’t hide that better from me
Just like I despise the lies
I tell myself about you
Did we want to be together or just circle like dancers
Looking for answers about the cancers
Eating away at us?
Compatible diseases?
Who knows? I don’t know why
You freeze when we say goodbye
Or maybe I do
I didn’t know that was what it was for sure, I think
But I think I had a clue
When time passed slow
With no text from you
Did you just want a companion for a dark road trip?
Slip off into oblivion together?
Or did you just want someone to hang out with
And bag upon the hipsters?
Hope stirs in my breast when I think this
With no reason, maybe pride
Maybe you wanted to hide
Or thought I was taking you for a ride
Still I feel denied
For the end was what it was
Sun setting, time for Pavement
Heart sinking like cement
Alone in my own Terror Twilight
Another night that turned out wrong
Though I don’t know what would have been right
I should have known it all along
I’m still checking the phone to see if you’ve rung
The tang of your cinnamon gum
Fading on my tongue
Who knows what it meant?
All this flavor with no nourishment
But it shows that I forget
The one thing I can say with precision
Swallow you or spit you out
Is not just a girl’s decision

The Incredible Mr. Limpet

I wanna be the Spock of cock
Wait, that’s sick, maybe just the Rock
Wait, no, that’s corny
But I’m horny
I’m sulkin’ in the corner
But I wanna be a Vulcan
And mind meld with you
At least, turn you into goo
While I stay inscrutable
But no, I can’t pimp it
In space
When I’m the Incredible Mr. Limpet
A nerdy cartoon fish
Swimming in Fanta seas
Sweet and bookish
And somehow
A hero now, wow
You’re too young to get this reference
My partner in crime
Still this rhyme should get me deference
Even if I’m not your preference
Spend some time underwater with me
My heart’s been hurled from space into that void alone
Too many times
It’s unfit for both worlds
Weak as flesh
Heavy as wet sand
It’ll pull me down but not to a cartoon land
No, pure reality, death by my own ha…
Holy shit, what’s wrong with me?
Too much thinkin’ on my fantasies
And my troubles
You shouldn’t be here blowing bubbles
While I’m locked in morbidity
It isn’t that bad to be sad
Or to be Don Knotts
Instead of fighting Nazis
It’s scary, I can not see
Why the fantasy
Is necessary
Or the science fiction
I need to learn to live with friction
In my life
And no wife
I can’t live in space or under water

Haha! Silly Hipsters.

So I have a Pitchfork-related poem I'm hoping to post soon, but Terra Dankowski over at Graph Factory has apparently done me one better with this. Check out her blog. It's pretty cool.

Doctor Shopper

Doctor shopper

Pill popper

Copper coins can’t change their mind like you

I don’t care whether or not you’re vain

You’re a weathervane

Blameless

Hot and aimless

360°, pennies are one in two

A certainty next to you

Tonight I don’t want a piece of tail

Or even a little head

But a warm body’s always nice in bed

It’s been like ice

But no tranquility’s here

The evil has landed

A sick relationship is what I’ve been handed

And what I’ve demanded

Physician, medicate thyself

Just not from the top shelf

Who am I kidding? I’m an ambulance chaser

Following desperate sirens, flashing lights

In my white Chevy Blazer

Ignoring traffic signals

Healthy singles

Relationship ease

Do I have your disease?

At night I’m on my knees

To God, but when morning comes I bow

To you, it’s over now

You’re not

A poker pot

You’re a player who folded my blankets

When I holded on line 3

Who popped pills in the bathroom while I waited for fun

I heard that rattle, baby

It said we’re done

So maybe I’ve won

At any rate I still have the shirt on my back

And the sun

And I’m out of the fray

So it’s hurt that I lack

I’m a doc on holiday

And a patient

Too, I should have patience

And keep your secrets



But that makes for shitty poems.

Urban Goldfish

Stencil Art

Stencil art is kind of a tricky medium, ethically; on one hand, it's illegal, but on the other hand, it's often a lot more beautiful than many things that are, in fact, legal. (And most of us--anyone who's ever driven over 65--have kind of decided on our own how much illegality is acceptable to us.) Anyway, there's some good stuff up here. 

Gasoline Rainbow

What is it that I fear

Falling asleep or waking up?

Drop a coin into my cup

And I’ll tell you what you want to hear

I beg you

And I’ll bless you and thank you

And let you tell me what to do

You seem to know more than I do

What do you know? My leg’s swollen in this dirty tennis shoe

Skin like a drum, tight

So maybe I want the night

Falling from a great height to a great sleep might

Hurt more than this, but only for an instant

Then…bliss?

Who knows, first

Bones will crack, vessels burst

Blood spread across the sidewalk

I see it in the worst way

Too clearly, replay it too frequently

Maybe I gotta do it just to stop the imagery

How come I don’t? Is it too hard or am I just cowardly?

Still sleep itself seems easy

Actions without consequences

In my dreams, nonsensical

And I can leave the theater

And talk about these movies to people who’ll never see them

But are they only entertaining

When I’m explaining them to you

On a new morning

Under the awning

Outside the White Hen when it’s raining?

I say I can’t complain but I’m complaining

I want these dreams all year long, not just summer

When I slumber on an island of grass

With taxis and cops circling like sharks, they don’t stop

Just go elsewhere so I can relax and not react

Unlike winter when night’s like day

Bright and angry on the CTA

Pockets picked near vomit smell

In that rocking fluorescent motel

Electric hell

But the summer nights are easy

Black like me, and blue and cool too

A sleazy pleasant lover

While day’s always a nagging wife

Unfortunately not an option unless I opt for endless night

To escape that demanding bitch I used to auction off my time to her

So I could afford to spend it all on the other

Until she took over

Was that my choice?

Still I didn’t mind

I might have decided not to fight

But I thought there were no consequences

To night, just dreams, and spills to clean up with repentences

Still, escapes from our life sentences

With the eternal wife, our ball and chain

Old dull routine

Clanging alarms and cramped commutes

Working for bosses with golden parachutes

While my only options were worthless

Somewhere between toilet paper and vapor

I needed a few toots to escape, or…

What? That’s all it was, a different road

Than the one you took to the bar

Dirty rocks or maybe black tar

Which made me feel far from harm

At last, safe in a warm hug, a liquid blanket

So snug it fit inside me

Nod out, or take the other which would shake me up

Or powder my nose to wake me up

A white drug, but I liked it sometimes, I could make me up

Like I was Superman

Or later just Clark Kent

When I felt bent

Out of shape, from partying away the rent

I could at least transform into a normal human being

A superhero feat I can’t pull off now

Without at least a cheap disguise

Hat or sunglasses to cover my eyes

(Bloodshot or dilated or in between highs)

And hide the lies I tell to you to escape the lows

Still everybody knows

But you, or do you, too?

What does it matter

If I get a fatter

Wad of bills to pay the boss

You can treat me with utter contempt

Just don’t tempt me

Into acting the fool, when you butter

My bread I can’t afford that

I’ll give you more of that wicked flow

I’m a gasoline rainbow

Drifting past you in the gutter

Lazy, slow

I don’t know

What I done wrote

Is it a poem or a suicide note?

Who knows?

These flows

Are the only

Way out of my lonely

(Unless no one’s really listening

And I’m howling into the void

Annoyed

As I drift towards that gaping hole

Do you feel me? How can you, you’re employed

Still maybe you fear the night, too)

But do I want a new day

Or a way out of this fear?

Who can say

Drop a coin into my cup

And I’ll tell you what you want to hear

Think You Know Why You Vote? Think Again.

One thing that's been increasingly apparent as I've grown older is that most adults are really, really, really reluctant to change their minds. We tend to hold on to (or throw out) facts depending on how well they fit in with our existing belief systems. And this article--which, granted, is a little long on argument in the early pages--analyzes the phenomenon with far more depth than I can hope to muster.

Mother's Day

It was Mother’s Day Sunday

You’ll call her up one day

And say you’re here with the blacks and Caucasians

18 years old

Trying to front and be bold

But Mom doesn’t fit that equation

Of jailhouse bluff

Where man equals tough

And humility feels like degradation

Among murderers from the news

And gang bangers, here’s you

A cholo in Cook County Chinos

In these concrete walls

To prove you have balls

They must think you’re willing to fight

Leave your voice set to loud

Puff your chest like you’re proud

To have guards tuck you in every night

And it’s kinda odd

How you love that façade

But I get it, I’ve been that way too

Acting like a kingpin

Wanting life to begin

Thinking family is just a big hassle

That gets in the way

You’ll make your own someday

And deal drugs ‘till you live in a castle

Till then, feed the need

Sling rocks and smoke weed

While stealing cars from your cousin

Your front won’t stop the storm

You act like it’s the norm

Still you know in your heart that it isn’t

Tears flood from your eyes

You dab them, surprised

You see there is something you lack

But as fast as you’re able

You wipe them off the steel table

At all costs, the front must come back

Tortuga

Can turtles get fat?

If my shell were real, would it be hell

Or would I like that?

More pressure inside

But no outward expression

Or worries about appearance

Just daily showers for maintenance

Rather than days at the gym

Running to go nowhere

A routine to despise, trying to stay the same size

It seems unfair

Still you look pretty busy in there

Clawing at the aquarium and coming up for air

Are you a guy

Is this a sideways take on sexism

Bumping up against a glass wall

I look through this prism

And I’m appalled

To think I can relate

I hate feeling like you

Big and ugly, the only one of me

In this tank

Or should I thank

This situation?

I’m unique, not a freak, that’s a cause for celebration

Right? Still this endless locomotion

And our glassed-in locations

Leave us trapped with imaginations

And no chance of actualization

A blurry vision of a world beyond

But no way to explore

Just a yearning, burning for more

We both live a treadmill race

Slow and steady is the pace

But can we win? We’re running in place

Do we do it to save face?

Do we forget there are no holes in the glass?

We can’t surpass

Our youthful triumphs but maybe stopping’s worse

Camus is right, we just need something to do

We’re like Sisyphus with no boulder so we need another task

Motion without movement, maintenance

Just like housecleaning

Something to give us meaning

Our eternal fight against the glass.

Sick of Social Media

I’m sick of social media

Should be my status update

When I’m up late cruising facebook

Between bouts of Wikipedia

I need ya

To like this status

Retweet it, gratis

That means free

The only type of publicity

I can afford

Till we go viral

Can’t you see

How awesome my improv musical porn show might be?

If you can’t come, at least R.S.V.P.

So it looks like there’s more people into us than me

Also, 7/8, don’t be late

That’s the date

For our crowdsourced

Performance art piece

A flash mob hand job

Jacking off my massive ego

We go to that and later

There’s a white trash hater party

I’ll spend the whole time not conversing

Just traversing the room taking pictures

Then I’ll go home alone and post them

Tag the shit out of you and

Chat online with all the people I could have talked to

In person an hour before

Never mind, it would be a bore

I'd have nothing to say

They wouldn’t have known

If they’d read my posts that day

Waterboarding is Torture

A nice little editorial on word choice and what it means...