Archive for alternative

HERE’S MY TOOL

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on December 27, 2009 by ravenstooth
I could go on for days in the humid swelter exhaustion
Freed like a litter of cats on the side of the road
Mostly pale and the beard itches, midnight calls the shame
Hear the deluge and suffer the resonating politely
All the tears could dance on the ground and still there would be laughter
Smug inebriation without the subtly a flash and murmur
Let go the defiance, let go the bravado, let go the horror, just let go
Crashed into the fierce artist relished in a defiant way
I’m a plague of simple desire tiptoeing like a pussy
Felt barren locomotive suggestions and cold whipped tolerance
We’ll never be missed and no one has ever heard of us in the background
Wishing you well and  when we weren’t afraid to die
Not all echos reply in the valley’s mindless squander
We tripped into details that hurried the fever and forgot the substance
The price is not paid with blood or love but with energy
These are times to seek the fire and smell the smoke
Have an occasion and breathe liquid optimism
All blind bats have enough sense to find their food
Don’t Fucking tell me the calls are unanswered
Never mind the fucking reactions when there’s nothing to say
Who will be the next to falter the hot air balloon accent
Have another fixture residue and forlorn the probabilities
I’m delicious in the future models and the pantry cabinets
I’ve been recognized a million times and never knew any of the people
Journeyed past my taste for green smoke and belligerent bars
The damaged eyes and heart storm over the disguise
Too connected to you and change is killing me
Up for the proposed, and beneath the tears the pools frozen
I should have died a thousand times before this extract distract
I enjoy the feeling of you touching me in the swollen garbaged trough
Hold you high and down for the count the miniatures purple webs
Blank gaze like moths wet bathing with sparks of perfume
Translate the dialog having the trees submerge true factory
Personally those socks rocks and the fucks push away the buttocks
In my shadow has worn a hole in my interior screeching exterior
Clearing away the chaos and consumption I’m cleaning the turnstiles
Here is the muscle and clinging to years thoughts and forest beauty
I’ll choose to yearn mortal practitioner an indestructible madness
Sent here by the horselord and realm leader in which case the comet’s wingspan
Drum drum drum drum drum drum drum DRUM FUCKING DRUM
On an awareness that scares the shit out of all including my own fear
No drug can compete, no one can repeat, everything turns to peat
When coming home I drive the limit and push the accelerator lightly
Here is my reflection and the shimmer recoils the pulsing ballast
Push it all on me until I can contain my trigger
The earthquakes rabid fortitude shoving me to the empty hollow of happiness
All alive when I’m trying to touch you and trade it for the actual deliberation
My feet on the ground, hot flames reach to lick my porridge bantering
These Vikings, These Deities, These Wild, These Wolves
Put myself in the blank mongrel status, faceless borrowed fears and lurch out distress
Put my puzzle back together all the pieces are somewhere in the scatter pickle jar
Everyone has a power animal, the seeing know how to interact with their omens
I must persuade you another way with the open door and birch poetry
May never work and the end is always near with a vacation in sight
Here comes the circus Any Fucking time the grass always getting the muddle
Loose leaf people surround the antique pleasure that is the swing set
Wake early to please the machine write documentary and prelude
Internal are we in stemming diverse penetration and swimming
The fuck nut back shit regurge pleasure whores and loose pants crawl
Flush it all away in the diatribe discologist
That one calls TOOL
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Freakazoid Skeleton…

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on November 5, 2009 by ravenstooth

SHIRT:

Hear her saying that you are a feeble mindless hap apparition.  Bring out the magic, fling from the sorrow, secrets sound like a wish. Looking down from baskets and graveyard.  She was in her soft wisdom.  Foraging forward incipient labor, docile plagued in the future.  She is tongue-tied probably discovered she is no longer a madman. Hoped for the winter torn, for the beginning, springtime is the parade.  Ocean traveler tortured by moonlight bridge door open sudden in weeping.  Out in the night she sees you let go of the only reason she is with you.  So if you want to leave.  Stand by the fire.  Hear the sounds sweep by.  Driven toward the sky, worked over to beg in the basement hey just leave me alone.  I looked for the keeper to guide me through.  The gate was unguarded.  My weary steps tremble in moonlight.  Feeling around at the possibilities squirming away from the monster mind talk.  This one will get you flying back into the garden picking berries like the dyed shirt flowers.   A quick smile and she bats her lashes, in an instant your teeth are clattering with funny love by the river’s ghostly rhythm.  Hardcore beasts linger lion’s laugh in the lonesome abyss.  Ejected through the hope that there is more to life than the awkward repeat.  She is shirtless, brains battered shapeless in her home.  But I can’t feel your taste or feel that you’re here in my erect mischief.  Wandering in and out by the ocean, by the desert, by the wilderness, by the thoughtless.  The milk has glass in it.

Freakazoid Skeleton…

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 1, 2009 by ravenstooth

JIM, JIM AND JIMI:

Hey now I’m standing here gathering all the leftovers from the past.

To guide myself and my next toward the unknown and infinite task.

And what you’ve said and done has inspired my thoughts to ask.

If I have the courage to move forward and will my strength last.

The path is made of knee pounding stones.

The terrific sun is the desire.

On the last stretch the fear beckons and moans.

And the morning shines the warm fire.

Hey now I’m on my highest hilltop horizon, viewing existence.

Wasting time, waiting for the reasons that will never be resolved .

And I remember that all you’ve said was only your own pestilence.

Only to give me the strength to know my courage will be unquestionably involved.

These times are strange and unruly.

I should be fighting for our time.

Led by the religious it seems truly,

As they preach their misguidance with such sublime.

 

ON LAKES AND REASON:

Cold and adjacent like pillars of grass.

The dew fresh mornings, a hot steam bath.

The oceans boil over on the sand and shore.

Birds laugh in the wind, we stand at the door.

Her perfume so reckoning. Burnt my nose and sneeze.

The echoes of strangers begging the wilderness please.

Our run is like the end, with immediate bower.

She’ll be there again with the store shop flower.

I’ve tried to be humble and not stare too long.

The river is empty and so is the song.

These dreams are fumbling inside the outsider.

Someone’s going home now. The order was given.

Trees fall loud in the wind swept hollow.

The damage grew strength like a walking infant.

Who is ready for the fall? The challenge commands high poise.

Concentration with the cliff climb belay.

We try to do our best in as little effort until we are hungry.

All this stuff is the sponge we squeeze.

Hoping for yet a little more.

She blinked twice and looked away.

Her heart filled up with the elation she craves.

To pretend and say nothing like quiet stone graves.

Maybe today, maybe today.

On lakes and reason the currents lap by.

The drift on the raft we’re perilous in surprise.

How silent the water and the sun and we breath.

We awake on the other side while asleep at the dream.

Going under the heart is the echo we hear.

The bottom all thick with the muck and our fear.

As we drowned in our boredom the sun shimmers wet.

Like two lovers in love who haven’t yet met.