Tonights post brought to you in....
The Arcade Fire's "Intervention"
Keys taken
back I throw
The people they all grow
And choose what they want written on their stone
All quiet and alone
You can taste the fear
Lift me up and take me out of here
I know I want to fight I want to die
Just tell me what to say
Working for the church while your family dies
Little baby sister gonna lose her mind
Every spark of friendship and love will die without a hope
Hear the soldiers groan
All quiet and alone
There's something in the air
The people they all sit and stare
And tell me what they point to tell me where
And tell me… Who's gonna throw the very first stone?
Whose gonna re-set the bone?
Sitting with his head in a sling
I hear the soldier sing
Working for the church while your family dies
Little baby sister gonna lose her mind
Every spark of friendship and love will die without a hope
Hear the soldiers groan
All quiet and alone
Sunshine light
Someone teach me how to fly
And onto something for wish I would die, but I just don't know what
Though I can taste the fear
Lift me up and take me out of here
And make it all concisely clear
You know I'm gonna fade
Working for the church while your family dies
Little baby sister gonna lose her mind
Every spark of friendship and love will die without a hope
Hear the soldiers groan
All quiet and alone
Hear the soldiers groan
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I used to enjoy the taste of fear...And then I grew up.
I remember different moments where I wanted to die.
Losing my mind with depression, drinks and drugs.
To escape the being me blues.
I am still an escapist. Not unlike when I was young and stupid.
now that I am older and dumber.
I am not screaming "suicide" or "Drugs!" I am just making a public notice
that even though we grow up and take this fragile life a tad bit more serious,
it's hard to abandon those feelings that ruled us so freely as children.
It's a rough one... maybe the holiday's are sticking the knife in my back.
Maybe I am an over dramatic neurotic.
I wanted to give Ben and Marlena a huge thank you for the brief but highly
enjoyable time we got to spend with them. Whenever you crazy kids go back home
it breaks our hearts but we understand.
I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday.
p.s.
To all those who have picked up the random flyer that has directed you to this
blog, I thank you individually for taking the time to check out an odd blog and
reading my manic ramblings. It means a whole bunch to me, and always feel free
to leave any comment you like. And, I am always open to collaboration.
p.p.s.
The amazing John Giddinge is assisting me in the script writing of a story I
am cooking up, the tentative title thus far is, "The apathetic lover." yes, I know
it is lame... give me time.
_________________________________________________________
and now for tonight's rendition of bad amateurish writing... hehehehe
_________________________________________________________
the cavern where my heart resides
They used to lay with one another.
Close and tangled.
Sometimes with a single hand touching a stomach or shoulder.
Now it’s mostly separate rooms.
With nothing to hold on to while
Drifting off to sleep…
Praying…
Crying…
but a pillow.
He can’t reclaim her heart.
He doesn’t know this woman.
And she threw his heart out long ago.
And you can hear the echo of sob’s in the cavernous soul he now keeps.
Now when he falls asleep he curses his mother and grandmother.
Those fairy tales can’t exist.
Not when he is alone.
A bone yard and a wounded sky
We kept our pain hidden from our lovers for far too long.
We smiled through tears and sobbed in the dark of night.
We lied to anyone who would listen.
We are still lying.
We are a wounded breed that fell from the sky.
We that sift through the bones looking for spare hearts.
We just want to be loved.
And,
There can never be enough for us.
We the gluttons and selfish and eternally needy.
The want has broken our hearts.
And I am starting to believe that we deserve this.
Sitting in dark rooms and loving too much and cutting
away little pieces of our being till the only thing we have left is…
regret.
A pathetic lot we have become.
a series of manic outbursts
What happened when you started slipping? She asked.
I broke her heart and she broke mine and we deserved to
both lay in cold separate beds staring at vacant ceilings praying
for small miracles to make us normal human beings that could
love, fuck, laugh, taste, feel, dance without that little atomic
bomb bursting in our twisted fucked up souls.
As if god would listen.
I remember walking from her house after a screaming match where
neither of us won and collapsing on to the pavement quite dramatically.
And a stranger walked by and said to me, “Get off of your God damned knees boy!”
To my best knowledge she is gone. Now a ghost to shake her head at all my foul ups.
To cry when I am lonely. To scream at the top of her lungs when I almost forget her.
But you cant forget can you?
And I know that you never will.
I don’t know anymore
After the panic loses it’s hold on me.
And, the anger subsides.
And all I am left with is an empty room and my thoughts.
I can hardly contain myself.
I am still so much a boy trapped in this large frame.
My thoughts are poisoned terror and I wound so easily.
The past always laying cold hands on my shoulder, and the future…
Like an open book with every page screaming out “Stop Reading. Go Back.”
I fall in love every day and by night I am always broken hearted.
I am an anomaly.
And I know I should have never came here to begin with.
The fixing of a broke down robot child.
Re-wiring the brain.
Scraping out precious memories.
The way the sunlight looks broken to pieces by
a blocking tree with scattered leaves,
The smell of a cold winter night.
The passionate sidewalk kisses that lasted hours,
Rather than minuets.
Plugging in new batteries and gadgets.
Something to make it shiny and new again.
Upgrades and new programming.
She wont even notice.
The devil makes a friend
The devil takes a liking to a human being.
A simple human being that reads in whispers in libraries.
Reads books by obscure female poets.
Reads books on Goya and cut’s out his favorite pictures.
The devil enjoys these simplicities.
This unaware human being one day ends up sitting next to the devil.
They enjoy small talk and exchange books and Ideas.
Get shushed by the librarian.
The devil enjoys this day more than any the devil has enjoyed in a
very long time.
The library closes and they exchange parting words.
The devil takes this secret back to hell.
And this “human being” feels slightly bad for keeping up his own ruse
this whole time… smiles, places the halo back upon his head and exposes
his wings to the cold night air.
Two secrets in one evening are enough to shake up the world.
And that’s not so bad is it?
I am not afraid
I speak about fear but I am still standing here.
I am still in this mortal coil pounding away on keyboards and
Scratching away in notepads.
I will still be here tomorrow.
No matter what this existence throws at me.
On the stone
I can only imagine.
What my son will have to gaze upon every time he places flowers on my grave.
Will he laugh?
Will he curse me?
Will he do both?
God I hope so.
insanity is a panic button
these silly animals.
Drinking up the pity and pulling out painful monologues.
Ranting and raving in hopes of pity sex or a small reassuring hug.
Watch out for the fakers of the world.
It’s in all of us and we are damn good and convincing.
Mom she is not a whore! She’s an opportunist!
I would like to take a moment to thank all those girls that,
Cheated and lied and broke my heart on many, many occasions.
I defend, applaud and love you all.
The past is in the past and who am I to judge?
I want to thank you all for the phone calls years later…
“John, I wish I could have been right to you… You where the
only one who ever treated me right.”
I wish you all well.
And I thank you for taking part in my life and teaching me humility and pain.
I thank you for your support in showing up in soul baring poetry
without your knowledge or permission.
I thank you all from the very bottom of my heart.
May you live on for eternity trapped in the wicked poetry and prose
I spit out whenever the urge hits.
As the phone sits silent and cold I pray for it to spring to life and hear your voice scream from the receiver that you love me.
We dream big and little dreams.
I am so god damn tired of mine never coming true.
These simple things you could do for me would mend all wounds inside.
Small things that I know you think are petty.
I think they make me smile.
I think they make me love you.
Then again what kind of fool would I be without a foolish dream.
it’s all vicious
I walk a little slow when I have a limp from foot pain
I ramble quite a bit
I like the smell of a beautiful girl when she walks by
Somewhat disturbing is the way they talk to me
I have many secrets that the world knows
I am over dramatic and gloomy
And I am full of erratic passion
My defense mechanism is to joke around
And it works
I still think about her every day
Rainy days are scarce where I live and are that much more precious
My dream machine is broken and hadn’t had a good one till this morning that my wife interrupted
I like the peace, pain and sweet sincerity of Daniel Johnston
I like the war and terror and fear of Alec Empire
I like that quite a few of you have no idea what I am talking about
I know I am over weight but keep hoping to be loved either way
My friends must be sick of building up my ego
A big secret… it makes me glad that they try
I may be addicted to love in all its forms and I don’t want to change that either
I trust to easily
There are quite a few ghosts keeping their eyes on me
Half are on my side cheering my every move
And the other are waiting for me to fail, fall and join them.
I like writing, it keeps me in a sane way… sort of.
mutilation is the new masturbation
Look for scars and cheery faces.
Look for tornados and the maniacs running with arms outspread
for great big hugs at full speed.
Carpet bombs are the new way to say “I love you” and clear the land
for shopping malls that will form your very personality.
We are the next species that will accidentally drown ourselves on rainy days,
With mouths wide open staring up into the rain clouds.
Our answer’s are truths over wrought with lies.
No straight answers.
I jumped out of my skin when you said you still loved me.
Like a thunderclap.
Love is my cancer and you just cant stop administering the pills.
You have to be the one.
I know no other cure.
Friend #1
“She said she loved me and drowned herself in the ocean, what do you make of that”
Friend #2
“Dedication.”
Who ever said that?
Tie me down and pry my mouth open with a tongue kiss.
Cover my eyes and whisper to me.
And when I wake up…
Promise to be gone.
_________________________________________________
goodnight
love...captainpirateface
someday i will be gone but i promise i will never leave you
You rock! You know that, right?
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