And here is more writing by me. All before 2000 (I think):
Sleep would be a lifetime better than this.
Is that too much to ask for?
Just a few years of sleep
Before I go on and grow up
Or just grow dead
To the situations bombarding me.
Sleep is such a prize here
Earned through labor of thought
And the process of art.
Exhaustion is not self-inflicted.
Sleep is not self-induced.
The pain around me is self-indulgent.
There is too much going on to choose
Between one and the other.
______________________________
5/2/97 7:45AM
Sometimes, when it’s really quiet
And I’m alone,
I can hear your heart beating
And little sighs and giggles
And all is well with the world.
My own vacuum releases and relaxes
The power of clarity
Into the valve at the base of my skull
Otherwise used for feeding.
____________________________
(A dream)
I tried to call you last night
You weren’t home.
So I went to your house and I broke in.
I tried to find you
Thinking perhaps you were asleep,
All to no avail.
So I rifled through your possessions
Trying to find a clue,
Something to show to the police
When they took me in.
Some evidence.
Some proof of what I saw.
But the police never showed up and
I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed
That I found nothing.
1997
________________________
Not a passion for digital alarm clocks - 11/19/96 1ish AM
Sleepy time visions of you
Of goddess of my sleep.
This moment separates one of 30 per second.
Images like forgotten gold.
It’s all there
Digital memory
Magnetic signals
Remembering how I feel.
Somehow in your poetic tragic
And your carefree whimsy
Both cynical.
This match of stories
Holds close to me in the pit of sentiment.
-That is a memory-
Captured in a moment of truth
Held above deception
And beyond question.
No more tiptoeing around
A ring of fire.
That is just another way
For me to say
I love you.
____________________________
12/13/99
How weakness of the mind can benefit culture -
Empty promises are still promises,
They still exist
In a world of ghosts.
Unfulfilled promises are rays of the black sun
Nourishing a negative harvest.
This world coexists
But motion makes us blind
And to the naked eye negative exists as unhappy
~Bitter.
Here I watch thoughts leak
Through holes you drilled in my head.
I want to lift you from your ashes
But I’m no humanitarian.
Anyway, you don’t want my help,
You don’t even understand why you need it.
____________________
12/28/99
Impatient
It’s almost the end of the world
Or some would have you believe.
Firecrackers or bombs?
We will all jump when they go boom.
I’m waiting for something to happen,
But I’m not holding my breath
And I’m not holding anyone’s hand
Because I’m not jumping.
I can’t even see the bottom from here.
And I can’t wait for the beginning
To happen again.
And I can’t wait for the fizzle of the dud
That will end up caked on your faces,
Like so much politically correct blackface
On the cartoon cat we’re supposed to forget
Ever existed.
Alone with my candle
The ferocious POW
Will fill the air with a cloud of smoke
Scented like daises.
And we’ll pack our boxes
And move to the next room.
________________________
4/20/97 7:58PM
Love is spiny tentacles,
Long and invisible.
Infect the skin.
Often only wounding the surface.
Shallow wounds are easy to remove,
A little rubbing alcohol on the skin,
A lit match… The poison is weakest in shallow infections.
When the wound penetrate through the skin
To the muscle or deeper
Serious or permanent damage may occur.
It is treatable with constant medication.
Take care of yourself.
________________
Human nature mistrusts magick moments
Magick in any length of time is a moment ripped
From the frame of understanding.
The bones have been replaced to make room for extra skin
To grow over the mountain of fingers.
Turning and fine-tuning
To the electric buzz of the universe.
Are you a transmitter?
Or a receiver?
Signals sent across a sea of moments
Frozen in plastic.
A paperweight of memory
Rips out the warm heart of nostalgia.
Then, a single glance
The softest odor
Sends you reeling back
To when we were gods.
But you can never fully recall anything more than total loss.
In the distance perhaps
A glimmer of the glory of pure joy
Could send you to your assumed recall.
Or the flash of electricity in the air
May put a smile across your face.
But sometimes it feels like that smile was stolen
Off of the face of a child.
And you’re so wrapped up in your own selfish past
That it only feels like heaven.
___________________
(so there)
It's a shame to see this kind of stupid alive and well, even if it's aesthetically pleasing. Or maybe it isn't hostile, maybe it is meant to embrace ethnicity? Or whatever. Fuck everybody.
Oh, by the way! A reminder to check out two new songs by
Beauty and filth live side by side. Each often invisible to the other.
Knowing this, perspective is at least partially a choice.
