Put down that Ax!

What did you expect?

Tomorrow... actually in a couple of hours, I report back to the school district. Back to the "Doom" game. The days spent in odd situation after odd situation.
I will be working 35 hours a week with the school district and hopefully as close to 40 hours per week with parks and recreation... cross your fingers for me kids. I know I should be sleeping but I just cant get into that groove yet. I have been listening to The Arcade Fire lately... and they are quickly climbing up the ranks of my favorite bands list. (Somewhere under Nine Inch Nails of course) Tonight, I leave you with some recommended listening and a slight poetic nudge.
So if you love stealing music.. try and get these in your collection yo.




____________________________________________________________________


1. Sparklehorse = It's a wonderfull life

2. Arcade Fire = Cold Wind

3. Joy Division = Atmosphere

4. Nine Inch Nails = A warm place

5. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds = The Ship Song

6. TV on the radio = Dreams

7. Ministry = The Fall

8. Aphex Twin = Avril 14th

9. A Perfect Circle = The Nurse who loved me

10. Mogwai = Tracy

11. Minus Story = Hybrid Moments

12. Gus Gus = Is Jesus your pal?

13. Elliot Smith = 2:45 am

14. a Whisper in the Noise = The Times they are a changin'

15. Daniel Johnston = Careless Soul




____________________________________________________________________


















goodnight silent screamer

The smiles all turn to shouts and terrible words.
Small fractured thoughts coming at it like small daggers tearing the fat body apart.
What would a brave man do?
Some day It will have to ask.
For now it covers up and prays for something to save it.
For a chasm to open up in the ground and swallow the tormenters up.
For the sky to crack open and God reach down and violently shake sanity back into the insanity.
It gets up and pretends for a moment to be a man, The facade of a life time.
The crowd stumbles back in horror.
What have we done.

____________________________________________________________________



So goodnight ye scurvy dogs and sleep dry praying you don't awaken in Davey Jones Locker.

Love... Milk and Kisses.

Captain PirateFace



















____________________________________________________________________




P.S.

when I think of love I think of Atomic Bombs bursting.

What will become of it?


Well, I am hoping to keep my post's on this bastard slightly seperate from what I puke up onto my myspace (www.myspace.com/captpirateface). The only thing I will ever double post is most likely my poetry. So people can have a reason to read both of my pointless shite post's. I am working on a way to showcase my writing a bit more by creating a zine-like pamphlet with my writing and thoughts and giving away a few hundred for free. I need some original art for it... esecially for the title.. "Pornography on the Radio"...(ahem..Ben and Tony). So we shall see what becomes of this Frankenstein's creation later on. I am aiming for a release date of the beginning of October ("First Friday" to be exact.) So that is all for now kids.
_________________________________________________________________


The claws that remain buried in my skin

Let's do something crazy.
I want to see us do something terrible.
Check me out, dead on the highway...
Learning what makes roadkill.
And say something nice at my funeral.
Something that makes me look good.
And something that makes them laugh.
And at the worst possible moment.
Fall in love with me.
When you know it’s too late.
________________________________________

You must be cold, please step inside.

I bet you were an adorable child.
One with that devil face that
pleaded for trouble to find you.
And it probably did.
You must have been a wicked teen.
Breaking hearts and avoiding disease like stray bullets lost in a crowd.
With holes in your jeans and a black "Clash" T-shirt.
You vicious adult woman.
I know this one thing about you.
Your breaking hearts and keeping the dead remains hung on a necklace,
Wrapped around your pale throat.
Like a murderer of men... of boys.
My heart is still fresh and beating on that horrible trophy necklace of yours...
and I want it back.


Please.
__________________________________________________________________________________

You are at your most graceful (when you appear dead while asleep)

So beautiful it hurts to look at you.
Sound asleep where you can’t:
Hurt me.
Degrade me.
Hate me.
And I love you more and more.
Like the beaten dogs we have become.
You and I.

_________________________________

Hero Worship

It must be amazing…
To be the "good guy".
I know that being the "bad guy" has it's charms.
But to be the Hero?
Must feel God Damn special.
Nobody saves my clippings of horrible deeds.
Nobody wears my logo t-shirt.
Nobody wants to be me when they grow up.
And that’s why us "villains" find peace in asylums and
hospitals wheezing out our last breaths while smacking the nurse on the ass.
That’s why we take that forced final kiss from the captured hero's companion.
and that is why...

she kind of liked it.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Yellow traffic lane lines on a disappearing stretch

The roads set before us are all empty highways.
All traveled at night.
With broke down motels with small green pools.
The roads we travel are filled with roadkill and hitchhikers wearing dark hooded sweatshirts out In the rain.
Our road tapes are full of sad songs and Johnny Cash.
Our roads are lonely and full of pictures of you, taped to the interior of our half broken sad little cars.
And we stop in diners where nobody looks up from their plates and the jukebox is always busted.
And we accept this.
It’s the only place we can truly belong too.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Do the "Fall Apart"

I have seen many nights where we have sat in the car holding hands
refusing to let go.
When the last kiss goodnight was never enough.
Where the phone would ring the second you walked into your room.
Where have you put that moment of us?
Has it been erased and been replaced with disdain?
Has it been shot dead and left out for night creatures to tear it to shreds?
I am falling apart with those memories.
They hang on to my flesh and drag me down with every step.
Closer to the grave and closer to falling down and never getting up.
The weight of those memories break my heart.
More so then ever because you have forgotten them.
Such is love they say.










Goodnight Rat Bastards and Sweetest Friends


















See ya,

Captain PirateFace

The way you laugh and the way I cover my ears.

So this is your Captain in the flesh. I promise you this... I will not subject you to this often, only once in a very blue moon.I wanted to start this off with a bit of recent events and also with a few of my poetic fecal matter. So it begins... Yet again.

I recently just saw Lagwagon again. God damn they put on one hell of a show. Pure fucking amazement! I am not a big fan of the pit, but for this show I threw my inhibitions to the wind and let myself be torn up to the energy in the music. I brought Ryne and Frank as well as my wife, Gina. It was Ryne and Franks first "real" punk show. Frank got crushed against the barrier to the stage and had his glasses demolished, while I shoved Ryne in his first pit with me. We had an absolute blast. Tomorrow night is The Aquabats! I am bringing my 3 year old son Gabriel. And Saturday is our (Leaders of the future and myself) Teen Only Punk Show at Paradise Rec Center.
I am super psyched...
















And now for some recent shite...

An endless journey on a victimless night.

We are collected thoughts and fleeting memories.
Caught in flood traps after heavy storming.
Missed by nobody.
Little God sacrifices.
Mostly static noise on forgotten television sets.
Begging to be unplugged.
Lasting through the wars and coming out on top with a little trophy.
Humping it out in the photo finish.
We are the sweat dripping from the nose in a fevered sex sweat…
Or, raw nerves from staring down the barrel of a cocked gun.
We miss you and you should be getting our “thinking of you” card in
the mail soon.



4am and the street is empty and cool to the touch

The garbage sits by the curb.
Over-piled, and overflowing onto the early morning street.
The streets are empty and gives off an end of the world feeling.
Like everyone has just disappeared.
And you find a small comfort in that feeling.
Jacket is half zipped.
And while you wait for the bedroom light of the neighbor girl to turn on.
While you are waiting to turn on…
The atomics go off and burn a permanent good morning into the hearts
And souls of this sleepy little abandoned 4am street.



what the fuck was I thinking?

She sat me down and plowed through 15 family photo albums.
(her favorite picture is of a surprised grandma on the toilet taking a shit.)
She then took out the acoustic guitar and sang horrible standard pop songs.
After 45 grueling minutes she finally put the guitar down.
Asked me if I thought she was beautiful and started to cry…
“Fuck me.” I thought to myself “What the fuck is this shit?”
She cried about how un-pretty she claimed she was.
How her parents did not understand her.
How her ex-boyfriend had cheated on her
(couldn’t imagine why.)
And when I went to consolidate her she told me it was time to go,
and that I was moving too fast.
In all I wasn’t planning on “moving” at all.
She walked me to her door where her black lab began sniffing my crotch.
She smiled and said “Maybe you could come back tomorrow?”
I just smiled…… and ran from her house as fast as my legs would allow.