Monday, May 21, 2012

...press sure...

you lay your hand

on mine and press it slightly

I look at your eyes 

and press them slightly

with my own


you feel this pressure

like a barometer rising

the nerves you get

when we kiss makes

you stiff


but I will come in

press my lips against

your pressures

and once again

to your lips

and they begin

to turn up


our bodies begin to 

turn down


Friday, May 04, 2012

MCA's Last Day

" Roses are red

Violets are blue

I got my barrel-action now

so what the fuck you gonna do"

                      ---A. Yauch, RIP



While I would love to write a poem here, I simply cannot. I will, just not here. Instead, I offer just a few words to express how important Adam Yauch's voice was to me as a kid. The Beastie Boys saved me from mediocre music. They made me rebel, rebuke, and revolt against things I didn't understand at the time. More importantly, they taught me that a one trick pony really is dead before it hits the farm. That you didn't have to be pigeon-holed and categorized from one project to the next. There was a core sound that is unmistakable in their music, yet each album tried different sounds out. Paul's Boutique will forever be the epitome of music to me. It is one of the greatest albums that has ever existed. MCA's unique scratch and rasp is unforgettable and he used that voice way more off stage than he ever did on it. Either way, he was one of the most definitive voices of my childhood, engrained in my brain, so clear I can conjure it up whenever I want. I usually use the lyrics above because they were just so badass. You will be missed. Namaste.

Wednesday, May 02, 2012

....of the world...

i'm not worried
about it wither
wane wand threshold
tune trimmed hellhole

the dirty doored studio

nor should you worry
about the weaver
whether or not
the weather changes
to morrow to day to never

the flawed floored floor plan

inside jokes with outside
jackets june bug joints
lit with wick windless
winding strand standing
stalled on the side
of the imploded ediface

the fresh desktop stop

don't be furious
with it wither it like flowers
and skin over bones
brandy dashed stones and rocks
falling over clefts and cliffs

the tall tall edge of the world