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about me
hey, i'm a songwriter, writing songs, i write a bit of other things too......................
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midwest irrational
i finally heard you when you said orgasms aren’t enough
Sun, August 23, 2009 - 1:28 AM
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it’s hard to ignore what is so obvious like romantic guitars for girls in fur, bob wearing women in fur, cigarette holder smoking long slender cigarettes, real feminine form of cigarette, i fixate sometimes on the obvious the knowing days are leaving, i’d like to fixate 6 inches behind the words as they’re formed and pushed from your mouth, i want to settle somewhere in that energy make it last keep it close sometimes i wander t... read more
My garden is just 2 months old. In it there is squash, zucchini, tomatos,jalapenos and basil. The flowers are the beginnings of pumpkins planted too late. My squash family is massive and very delicious. They are the promise built on a premise of green thumbery. Without the hours spent on digging these beds I would have blurted that I loved her, instead I avoided idle hands and the trappings within to bring purpose to that energy flowing smooth like the backs of horses and the surface of roses...
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Sun, August 23, 2009 - 1:19 AM
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careful is the beginning where the stories are given to immature ramblings. she is seeing a toddler hidden inside man sized hands and deeper seas. he is not the same as when he walked miles of door handles. he is not the same as the voice that spoke with confidence and knowledge. the start was with small screens and ipa. she wore the face of tonic lime, no liquor and he is not the same now knowing that that was a defense. she arches back in high chair and he is there watching shirt creep up h...
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Sun, August 23, 2009 - 1:16 AM
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in the way far off space where there is emptinesss and fullness compressing your atoms together it would take but a foot on the back of a bird for this to be more clear to me. i am folding my legs tighter to my center and rocking hips backward and stretching spine to the beginning , stretching those odd shapes puzzle pieces toward the northeast corner, toward the center and through it again, cycling to slumber in the sw.
Thu, April 2, 2009 - 1:47 PM
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it is truly rare to see perfection. there is a certain easiness in se... read more
there will be no mere 12 month system. each day is to be lived freely separated only by rest and fallen star. the lines of communication will return to their majestic and humble beginnings. we will witness our long lost human surface. i can feel the receptors charging up with their faint sing song hum. the congestion in synapse is ceasing as the lump of invincibility in my grey matter shrinks to piglet size ego states. these deletes growing in finger and mind are uniting with a tongue far pu...
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Fri, January 2, 2009 - 11:58 AM
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the man sat hunched, sweat dripping onto page. the notice has been given and he is to vacate and take those years of red to white dog hair with him. on the radio she is singing about rodeo heroes and race car drivers. there are not enough hours between what they expect from him and what he expects from himself
Mon, December 29, 2008 - 1:09 PM
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the leaves on the tree outside the window have been blown off very much like the day he returned to empty rooms violated by strangers. she would f... read more
It’s quite ok every once in a while to imagine the sun is just as you remember. Truthfully he won’t say when the last time he stopped to look into it. The last time he stopped and was vulnerable to truth and the way some us are well equipped to carry it. Activity is the monument to affirmation and vibration, still time is actively changing. That was the last time he stopped and noticed. The last time he chose to accept that the things outside of him weren’t anything more than him and he was n...
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Thu, December 25, 2008 - 3:44 PM
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the couch he sleeps on is broken in the middle. right there under his hip whether he faces left or right. his clothes are strewn all over like cobwebs in a corner. he is packing finally, ready to escape from the severe loneliness here. with courage he can say his friends are swollen shut. they don't speak and therefore know no beauty. none that they can share, or will share. he looks at them one by one and sees blankness dark as night behind eyes that should reveal things brighter than a th...
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Tue, December 23, 2008 - 12:09 AM
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the streets are carrying a metaphor for what you can never truly leave behind. his soup arrived scarily thick, full, and warming in its forceful spiciness. with every bite and quick scan of environment he is increasingly reaching an awareness that he can feel growing like a pineapple in his chest. once engaged the world is bending to his view. his will is changing planes thought previously to be voluminous yet still display an eager randomness loosely associated with joy and anger.
Mon, December 22, 2008 - 1:25 PM
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... read more
i am a fool
Fri, December 19, 2008 - 9:38 AM
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the biggest fool for you there is hardly any comfort in realizing it even less in avoiding it it may be the debate the conversation the cajun accent added to situation the boycotting of the olympics tossed aside for that feel good happy that comes with 8 medals and the boy that loves his momma maybe its the marathon phone calls whereas you tell me my words hurt when i only want them to free you maybe its that you slept with my friend and his less than manly way of ack... read more
i looked at that picture
Wed, December 17, 2008 - 2:37 PM
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you in that dress i wanted to peel it from you my eyes sticking to the place where the fabric betrays you and becomes transparent eyes further down now i hear your voice the life that lives in it a partner for your minds use a partner for my late night forage beside you i’m a babe in the woods all of my dominant tendencies break with discipline leading my mouth to fine jawline tracing even finer clavicle you asked if i’ve ever manifest before the truth... read more
don’t often come here. here to the place where there are cracks and more cracks. i’m here so they can hear, so the sky can open up and swallow these tones and hues, so that i can close my eyes and feel the patterns and simple childs nursery rhyme shapes. i watch the curved sound fall away to the cobblestone road and meld there down into the earth ,down into those hollows of carbon and rebirth eyes closed i step up jubilant and slouch backward head on instrument to rocking swaying moving raisi...
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Wed, December 17, 2008 - 4:38 AM
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i fell asleep fast but not so very fast that my eyes escaped rapid movement, tossing images into my synapse. i thought about that tall stranger that comes into the bar, obviously from somewhere else, guitar in hand,right? up at the bar drinking pale ale or something like it, slipping outside to smoke, eyes darting back and forth. 1 days worth of stubble i think a lifetime of road dust in his shoes. there’s something on tv and something on the jukebox and 130 pounds of something out in the the...
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Wed, December 17, 2008 - 4:35 AM
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its definitely time. the rain seems to have stopped and i need it to stop
Wed, December 17, 2008 - 4:32 AM
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a few hours ago we were talking so very politically. you said you joined and lived in your convictions since 11 years old. you reminded me that sometimes some of us don’t forget those promises we made to ourselves. you also reminded me that some of us don’t evolve. i don’t think you’re stuck i think this is the time when you have to push harder against that thin veil of uncertainty. i know i feels thicker than it is . ... read more
before i go
Wed, December 17, 2008 - 4:05 AM
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i need to mention that kiss in the last five minutes of existing there in the rain everything blurring in the foreground i should remind you of that kiss over all those burning candles the lean so slow like the first and last time i need to pour into mold the memory of that balcony when i crept up and raised your skirt how the moon in its forgotten stage made the skin glow the holiness of it all matched the very first when phil sang one more night and our thirtee... read more
New moisture reflects new life as first wail escapes. first wail mimics street talk and tumble of drums from darker jungles and distant country roads. it is these memories that are forbidden from eye raised to doctor. red dust roads forbidden from lips that say”craivent antoine hallier, a fitting name for a man that already screams for the world to be his. this child is telling the future and holding it in his tiny hand”. his mother would not always talk this way. this tone was always held an...
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Tue, December 16, 2008 - 5:08 PM
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At the space where the hybrid antennae extends and meets to discuss what is subverted in conversation, what is commonly called the third hand of jesus, here Craivent meets in quieter hushed tones forced free by acid and grass. Forced open like a gourd dried and dropped to the floor. Forced open like opinions left to weave themselves into the annals of fact and I believe so. He is screaming into his breakfast, pacing the divide confused and rebellious toward stories that start with “I believe ...
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Mon, December 15, 2008 - 2:15 PM
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the night has its own way of abandoning me. the night is wearing heels and a smirk. i feel the shade pulled further down around my chest like a hunting device, grasping and squeezing me into a quiet submission. this is without sleep, although the knowledge of how you might spite me and my intention chokes energy and effort from battling eyelids and war torn heart. its this hat that i wear as nightcap for tired resolve no longer resolving anything.
Mon, December 15, 2008 - 1:46 PM
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the tires squeal as car drives nort... read more
its risky sometimes
Mon, December 15, 2008 - 11:15 AM
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to open your mouth its amazing how much holding something in can hurt involuntary action can come off pure as a miracle there are so many miracles so many charged energetic vibrations bringing night for the quiet and still what meditations for more more more here in my bag is a funpak we could float out here for days we could build an igloo crawl inside strip to furs reusuables we will invest in reusables if it produces seed then we will use it to se... read more 
wonderful
Mon, December 15, 2008 - 2:28 AM
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this is what lingers long into winding road. it is this thick reverberation, this slight echo of intentional gasp. without acknowledgment of dropped ball or careless rhetoric he stumbles over boulders and shiny black bottom dwelling exhaustion. juliet sits on shortened couch photogenic and fit to be swallowed, scrubbed from fingernail to tip of eyelash. wonderful is the very first bead of sweat to roll from head onto foreground swelling wow and thank you. every extremity is felt g... read more
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