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matty-m@

offline 43 friends
joined on 06/18/05
last updated 05/15/08
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who's with me

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REM

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rites

"work in progress"

to old country espresso sips:
nobody expressly dips into Europe worship
lest cult-like transfixators – posed as
stately coma deemed traitors –
cater to vibrator phones (in which twitches
my love for Spanish women and toblerone).

if I swim in Atlantic’s currents electric enough
like the stuff mantis moms devour
(i.e. tantric turkey toms; an under the table hourly war waged with bombs)
forgotten burnt sage fantasies might power me from seas ashore:
jail cells and cages are ageless bores quantum
to the snail shell snores evolved from failed beached whales (like trees fell to axes).

what people ask is, “why taxes does?” and
“who got me whino off moonshine, cuz?”
while though these sunny Dutch pine trees ring blurred
subdued along sing-song exclamations of
“s’up dude?!” on the train line from Brussels
to Amsterdam; adages of how red light hustles incur damages.

I blunder in wonderment if wisdom tooth propensities
is dumb American pipe dreaming to find meaning extricated.

"H20"

i saw in the days a setting h-bomb haze getting closer to the line of when
gods decline. although godly men oddly amend our ways by depending on
constant variables to defend our okays against that whose contents may
explode upon high pressure: the measure of how un-ape we might be isn't a
ruler nor its peoples, dna sequences nor steeple frequencies.
boats on seas that float on air (this is a quote) beware for explosions to
resume their pace on their race to that other space opposite. and yet i stop
and shit just to watch it conclude: the photons that i once knew subdue
into the tepid hues of natal nocturnal clues - but way back before i had a
choice to choose. and slowly the light lowly bends my way into patterns of
cones and rods planted like drones of sod; i know just like the nod that it's
fine to resign to the rule of who i'll be then. or is it a definition i can?
the first shock comes in a wave and i sit and watch and try to behave because
now i can't think of a damn that i gave. apathy and me go way back, in fact
like taste buds for dud dreams to believe in. but i looked down my olfactory
portholes at poor souls who I couldn't adore, who needed something more than
the feeling of meaningless marijuana, because shit always gets done mañana.
five or six years later it's old days lost at the cost of sounding depressed
to confess that this is where i am: like a gem you wouldn't know by its glow.
plasma is like light spazzing before the fighting that it must to turn us
into dust. and however contrite the why's and cries we might feel compelled
to show and tell, it appears our fears is hell. and those apathy oh-wells
offer no quells to why in the end one can "just" to no end and still die.
this is nothing more than an H. and don't forget the hate that blew this
bomb to pieces, because peaces aren't possible when hostile missiles cross
right over like red rover. and although we all know we aint getting the
russel-stouffer's ending to this life, it might be kinda nice to think that
we're all just beautiful poetry in perpetuality; no good vs. bad duality that
creates the gates to keep the pets in and out. so let's just shout and burn
up to something more sublime in our own time like fine wine.

"a girl"

What drunk letters have I slurred
with you squinted beer bottle blurred
through brown tinted glass?
As I amass to tip-toe over the edge
in the manner sledgehammers do
you stammer truths across weeks of anticipation.
While Iowa sat in lost adulation
against rolling peaks of strato-cirrus serenity
you are the artistic entity
I oughta seriously resist to seek in my heart.

When you ask “what’s the matter”
is a punctured bladder
staining my pissed regret
for not waning to forget you.
But yet my desire to want inspires
ironic fires of ionic lightning
among neuron hiccups far-flung
in my brain: sightings of you still remain
(I can’t dump coffee grounds down the drain
without being jumped by feeling somewhat changed).

Here we are at that time of the year
I’d oppose my thumb to ride to
because you left to rove
while I drove a lot into sessions
of low-pressure tropical depressions.
I’ll blot out directional questions
into unequivocal glottal stoppings
all for the sake of mad hopping:
my inactions are abstractions easily forgotten as fake
so go ahead and take me at face.


"to september"

Crickets grating form a storm of Hitchcock chirping,
as I perch perturbing on pickets
half-hating the swarm of manic migrations.
Eccentric sparrows shoot with chasers
semi-sober coencentric arrows
like hallucinated tracers
around a not-yet-October harvest moon.
If not already, larva soon
will become butterflies in the skies
and make tries for Mexico to meet
their doomed instinct to go extinct.
All the while rank and file ghetto cornrows
shelter sweltered grasshoppers,
who hope like paupers for dope
that winter won’t come
um…'nope.
Instead they fall dead with leaves
leaving trees to their hibernatory
dreams of spring.

"solitude food"

ignore me in my strong state of mind.
already behind i hate the kind
i could be.
my adjacent gestures to
your recaltracent crazy eye hue
look deeply creepy when i think
the alergic growth and the sink is
metaphor for: who cares for real?
both of us know
what's fair: we conceal.
i grin at glares to the shagrin
paper-thin pride and such
is fragile to touch.
behind bars and gates
blind orange criminal dates
scare the shit a bit outta me.
this space equates clearly to
merely forgetful, tearfully you,
who,
can't constrain my scant brain
whose insane switch to left lanes
i duly remain grateful.

"un"

sweet and simple.
dirty and complex.
people come.
they leave.
they return.
the cycle is immense sadness.
the square root of happy.
alone in peace.
together in pieces.
cold fronts hit.
icicles puncture solitude.
deep does not exist.
meaning forgets.
warmth is an ant.
until we meet.

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back west
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"Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage."

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Mossy Trees from atop Multnomah Falls

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tenacity of gravity

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Good Morning Sunshine

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A New Day

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wutchawant

hey you! yes you! if you're about to read my blog, know this:
feedback or just a friendly hello is welcome!

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El Bloggo

as usual (since my departure from tribe; this is considered a visit) it's been a long time since i last posted or responded or anything'd on tribe. it's good to see some folks are still hammerin away at their keybords on this site. unfortunately i think it was about this time last year that tribe was all fritzy for whatever reason. it was sad. so was i. i left tribe behind and ventured forth into whatever i'm in now.

so, here's the news: i know a few of you are in the bay area. i've been ... read more
Thu, May 7, 2009 - 7:22 AM permalink - 2 comments
 
I know, It's McDonald's...What am doing acquiring my sustanance from them? I'm a sucker for Apple Pie and Chicken Salads. Don't hate.

This is my official complaint lodged moments ago via their corporate website:

I ordered a Bacon Ranch Salad (w/vinagrette) and two Apple Pies. I proceded to the pick-up window and was given the two pies and told to wait in a parking spot for the salad. That took 15 minutes and did not include crutons. So, from the time my order was placed to the time I re... read more
Mon, December 29, 2008 - 8:54 PM permalink - 1 comment
 
yay. i refuse to check my tribes' posts. too damned many to really care anymore about what anyone has said in my absense. life/tribe goes on...

maybe someday i will.

otherwise, just a wish to all those folks out there in tribeland who still have a spot in my heart.

i had a great adventure getting from portland to iowa city on saturday/sunday:
barely escaped before the snow massively dumped on puddletown (frozen puddles are dangerous)
my cabbie in porltland never picked me up. i mi... read more
Tue, December 23, 2008 - 10:30 AM permalink - 1 comment
 
today i was told by someone, with whom i work, that i speak in riddles much of the time, supposedly an endearing quality i guess.
in other news, i forgot a piece of fruit in my trash can. The humidity and temperate temps of the northwest allow fungus and mold consume fruit faster than i'm used to. Add in some fruit flies that my roommate's grandma shipped over from puerto rico, and blam, little fuckin flies everywhere. the computer screen is a nice passtime while taking breaks from fly kill... read more
Wed, November 19, 2008 - 6:31 PM permalink - 3 comments
 
it's surprising to me that my last bloggo was all the way back in august...whoa-uh...

i really have strayed while staying exactly where i've been. my path has been filled with the mundane and persisting day-to-day drive from the flats of southeast portland up to my job in a northwest pediatric clinic. the drive in isn't ever truly bad. i've never been late due to traffic delays. the drive home, especially now that it's raining again and the sun is well set before 5, is now a consistent 45... read more
Wed, November 5, 2008 - 8:57 PM permalink - 0 comments
 
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M@'s Infos

Gender
Male
Age
32
Location
about me
just a dude trying to expand my limited grasp on what makes us tick. my introspective conjunctivitis is clearing up slowly.
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