We may be through with the past... But the past is not through with us.

It is one of those nights. Or, should I say... It "was" one of those nights. I can only say I have laughed very hard tonight, and I have cried. I am working on that small book of doom with the help of a partner. So now I am just sitting here to de-program listening to Jenny Lewis sing "Rabbit Fur Coat" having just finished "Magnolia" an hour or so earlier. I have had a few nightmares involving "dead" hands. Hands with twisted deformed fingers... Death colored and without attachment. I need a Dream analyst. Gina's art has been selling like crazy. We brought 60+ paintings this last "First Friday" and sold over 40. I am very proud of her. I wonder if she notices? I am doing shows now once a month at Cambridge and Paradise Recreation Centers. It's a nice change to actually get paid to do shows. For info on that check out www.myspace.com/piratepromotions. Well here is a bit of my latest ramblings. If you like hate or whatever please feel free to leave me a comment. Don't be afraid to be critical... It's the only way I will ever get to be a decent writer.

John A.K.A. Captain PirateFace
(Nearing the calm seas of sleep...Where the hell did my crew run off to?)


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A fight to the finish

She is just a reflection of what you wish you could be.
And you, you are all that she wants to control. Making the rest of the world obsolete to one another…
All life forms have faded into ghosts.
And the battles will be passion and blood.
Tears and sex sweat.
Until the world regains its light and vicious life.
When you both have been returned to your corners.
And your ash have been thrown into ocean winds
and placed on Mantle'’s like a strange trophy. "Now it'’s your turn"
the ghost's say collectively.




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She reminds me of these wonderful things.



Old time movies.
Rainy day walks.
Soft happy piano keys.
Comfortable beds.
Good dreams.



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Devil in a man suit playing God

Wave of the hands.
They all fell dead.
Snap of the fingers.
The bones danced splintering and cracking
around the room.
A wry smile and a wink.
The ladies blushed and the children cried.
A slamming fist on the pulpit.
The children choke and rot.
The waves crash against the sun.
The open stigmatic begging for your sins.
Bleeding on your best shirt.
The sin eater weeping and sobbing and snot dripping from the nose.
Clawing your way through a wood door with no handle.
Mistakes are being made and you just cant help but feel nervous
and...alive.
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Where we have our own oceans and forests

When God steps down from the heavens and gives us
all we ever wanted.
We will all wake from a fevered dream.
Clutching our pillows and our eyes damp from tears.
God can make no promise.
It'’s lonely here without the need of touch.
Without the need of love.
All I ever wanted from you...
God...
Myself...
Was to never need again.
To be at peace with loneliness.


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Goodnight.