Pieces of concrete

Timothy — Fri, 09 Mar 2007 15:24:05 GMT

Break me to pieces A being to bits “It’s your birthday”- caught watching old movies again Clips- of lives lived- I’ll never be the same Even after “nothing has changed” Towers are built- so towers will fall. We pilfer through the rubble- “Think!” What have you come back here for? The Big pay-off, I imagine Once and for all- And for all of the times we had the keys, but no locks to be put them in. Hands searching blind through NY smog. With power comes the unstoppable greed-laughter. Knotted and ringing- a curdled cloud creeping cobbled alleys. And dusted by this misty fog-snow-like-ashes, we uncover a man lying face down- teeth on concrete- -dreaming reflections of what type of man he could have been… what type of man he should have become. A real Scrooge and Marley situation- a ghost feeling around in the dark- no limbs- no tongue- helpless- to the sound-like-movements. Though, for a breathing-instant, there is none of this. Locked down. Holding on to just pieces- Being is like bits of concrete. concrete concrete concrete concrete concrete concrete CONCRETE! Records- dancing in concrete! Mandibles- crunching on concrete! Hands running through and twirl concrete! It’s up to you- concrete! Smile so meek- concrete! Fleeting heart- concrete! Baby growing inside concrete! Inhale- inhaling concrete! Nothing has changed- concrete! Within the clutches of concrete! Hide- Run- Shine- Fight- Burn- Now we are like pieces of falling snow.

The Fifth Voyage of Columbus

Timothy — Mon, 12 Feb 2007 21:59:03 GMT

I met Christopher Columbus, as he was searching for a new way. And He found it. A very new way to a very old place. Following in Sinbad’s musty tread water- He floats His boat from the theater- musket in hand- all the way down to a farm in Nantucket- where He can work and live in a placid commune and not be bothered with Spanish trade. He can spend His nights alone and in the rain for all he cares- getting His beard wet, because He is Free! God damn it! He can secretly take advantage of weaker peoples- And He can unknowingly get taken advantage of himself! He’ll meet nice women that will stroke and stir His rounding belly- And if these women have children, they’ll poke his face and pull his slacks- all with tiny fingers. And instead of scorning the children (He must not, for he’s finally making headway with their mother!) He will be polite- but firm, but still very much annoyed. He’ll travel on a train and think of our meeting- wondering if I was right about the life that was not meant for Him. He’ll wonder if after all, He has become unhappy and thus imprisoned by His own gloom. Someone will pipe into his car an old Charles Mingus recording of Epitaph or a bootleg of Fables and he’ll slump down in his chair. When his stop comes, he might re-consider his destiny and stay on the train in order to finish listening to the record (for it might contain some hidden message in the melody). And then he might fall asleep, lulled by the, “thum, thum, sip-um, sipa-um, bum, whaaa-ee-O!” And maybe he’ll dream about crickets!

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Pieces of concrete

The Fifth Voyage of Columbus