the fear, the flight, the fun and the....far away sad mind of a large man with a large failing heart.

I was driving home in my car, in heavy traffic and decided to have a little fun with two older Asian ladies in the vehicle behind me. I opened my sun roof and stuck my right arm and hand out and pointed my pointer finger straight up to the sky. The two ladies tried to make out what I was pointing at, scanning the sky for whatever I was trying to bring their attention too. I then started pointing at clusters of hotels on the Las Vegas "Strip". They started pointing in the same direction as me. I then decided to change pace and put a "thumbs up" through the sunroof. They looked perplexed staring at my thumb as we slowly crept up the road in the heavy traffic. Finally all the absurdity of staring at my "thumbs up" for over five minuets must have finally got to them as they begun to crack up in giggles while pointing at my "thumbs up". I started laughing alone in my car too with my thumb up and my arm getting tired. As I approached my street I gave mention that I would be turning right soon by pointing down at my car through the sunroof with my pointer finger and then pointing right. And as I was turning I began to have my hand. The now smiling elderly Asian ladies returned the wave and I made my turn and smiled wide as I drove down the short street home.





"Accidents" by Arcade Fire

An old man has a heart attack in the movie theater
While my friend calls an ambulance
Buster Keaton's dancing
I wait for the punchline
But it never comes

Two blind kids in wheelchairs are crossing the street
And they get hit by the ambulance
Cause the light was green
And I wait for the punchline
But it never comes

Promised you that I'd be true
And now chandeliers are crashing down to the ground
Waitresses drop their trays
Trains derail with passengers
While mother snakes eat their young
The water pipes in this town
Burst and flood the living room
The firetrucks lose their way home
And crash into the hospitals

We're causing accidents
Me and you
We're causing accidents
Me and you

Where does a promise go
When you pretend it isn't there
Do we really think that it could just disappear

_____________________________________________________________________________________

An honest response sent in a letter back to a loved one's honest question.

Because you are related to me...

"no really, it's in you and I's blood.
We are complicated people and have complicated emotions and thoughts... though sometimes things that complicate a normal person is to us but a simple thing. We act and re-act through pure emotion and struggle to blend into a world that either does not want us or is not ready for us. God made a mistake when he created people like us. And we are carnal in our needs and that frustrates the normal ones. It's not our fault... it's an unforgiving world and a distanced creator...
not because the higher power does not love us, but because he cannot understand us... he cannot tame us, so we suffer and go on suffering and suffering always near happy and almost always certainly sad."

-John Robison-

"Too weird to live, too rare to die" - HST










it's not going to stop

the world is turning.
rainclouds are gathering.
she or he, is sitting in a restroom crying over a picture of you...
and you will never know.
the waves are crashing on some distant night time beach.
and you may even be reading a poem right now.
a song featuring prominent piano and drums play loudly on a mans headphones as he writes the mentioned poem you may be reading...
or have stopped reading.
candle light flickers.
a baby is born.
somebody is dying.
a galaxy just went nova.
somewhere else two pairs of lips press together in a passionate kiss.
hearts are beating almost everywhere on the planet and to hear them all at once would be one continues noise... beautiful noise of living things, creatures and people.
I love you all and that's really only a half truth at best.
these words will most likely outlive the man writing them.
sometimes when she is on the telephone he can hear the slight change in her voice when he knows she is smiling.
I am missing people right now.
she does not like to be held by her husband while sleeping because she does not enjoy his snoring.
the end is near...


see i told you so.









tidal heart

my soul is in the depths of the ocean.
the beating of my heart is the crashing waves,
my blood the foamy salt water.
my thoughts of you run deeper then any part of the ocean.
I drown in the darkness of you...
happily and in smiling tears.











Violence

I have felt the iron taste of new blood fill up my mouth in a quick hot sticky motion.
I have felt the cartilage in a nose bone crush under the weight of my slamming fist.
I know what it's like to take a punch to the guts and feel your insides rumble and feel the flesh around the ribcage swell with pain and go hot, nearly breaking...
always bruising.
I can tell you what it's like to beat a man close to death...
and it makes me sick.
it makes me want to cry.
I have torn the flesh from right corner of the mouth all the way up to and around the ear, creating a life long scar in a fit of a drunk and drug rattled rage...
and it kills me.
it gives me nightmares.
I never fought for love... or passion.
Just defense, fear and cruelty.
for the need to give another person the pain that was killing my soul and body.
And I am sorry.
Oh dear God I am so sorry.

I hope one day I can be forgiven and my good deeds outnumber the bad.
________________________________________________________________________________











Goodnight.




Captain PirateFace


















































"The work of the eyes is done. Go now and do the heart-work on the images imprisoned within you."

-Rainer Marie Rilke-

black mirror

amazing

clouds made of fire...

"Wave everybody... here comes the apocalypse!"

The Soundtrack to tonights Easy Listening Mother Fuckers.

1. Aimee Man = Wise Up
2. Kings of Leon = On Call
3. Portishead = Give Me A Reason
4. The Rolling Stones = She Smiled Sweetly
5. Aqueduct = Hardcore Days And Softcore Nights
6. Portishead = Sour Times
7. Ben Lee Float On (Modest Mouse Cover)
8. The Pixies = Wave of Mutilation (UK Surf Version)
9. Depeche Mode = Judas
10. Elliot Smith = 2:45am
11. Meat Beat Manifesto = Cancer
12. Muse = Starlight
13. Portishead = Roads
14. Meat Beat Manifesto = She's Unreal
15. Hedwig and the Angry Inch = Origin of Love
16. Andrew WK = She is beautiful
17. Arcade Fire = Cold Wind
18. The Moldy Peaches = Anyone Else But You

Recommended Reading:

"Death of a Salesman"




________________________________________

"Wave of Mutilation"
as sung to the beat of...
"Wave of Mutilation" by -The Pixies-

cease to resist, giving my goodbye
drive my car into the ocean
you'll think i'm dead, but i sail away
on a wave of mutilation
a wave
wave

i've kissed mermaids, rode the el nino
walked the sand with the crustaceans
could find my way to mariana
on a wave of mutilation,
wave of mutilation
wave of mutilation
wave

wave of mutilation
wave

__________________________________


a broken missing piece...

My grandfather had a heart attack today.
Love is slipping away and I am sitting here motionless like a clinical retard watching a falling star.
I only wanted to touch you.



I miss those days when my problems were limited to a handful.

When the mirror showed less weight and no dark circles under the eyes.


The Small, tiny Death of me that is a bullet called pain and despair
(Bang, Bang... I wish my baby shot me down.....)

like a shot through this rotten heart.

Even though you call me soulless,

it hurts like hell when you shoot me dead.

The Watermark

This barren valley,
Once teeming with aquatic life...
now bone dry.
The skulls left behind left grinning with strange toothy smiles.
Once upon a time small delicate waves would break against jagged rocks,
rocks that now sit Godly and elevated touching the bluest of heavens.
Their thirst only quenched now by passing rainstorm.
The last remnants of this shimmering body of water from the past is the various watermarks
left behind.



Twisted and Damn Beautiful

I love you and...
isn't that a rare thing?
As nobody could love you really.
Your smile hides your twisted heart and vicious intentions.
But I love that smile.
And I must be twisted too.
Twisted up in your sour heart and sweet smile...
Twisted up in you.

Fresh out of Control

They are burning a hole in my back with accusing stares
as I limp along towards my stories end.
Not giving the savages the benefit of acknowledging their hatefull shenanigans.
I reach with dry fingers that are cracked and bleeding...
extended for a plastic grinning angel.
Always just out of my reach.
I may die within sight of the climactic end.
I may die once I have arrived.
But I will die on my feet...
soon followed on the floor.

Spoiled Milk

Radiating Beauties hanging on every word the scum spit's forward.
Why cant they ever fall that deep for the lunatic?

I said

enough

___________________________________________________
I am Captain PirateFace....

Because it is easier to hide behind a moniker.


P.S.

.........

A source very close to me says I write the same repetitive whiny shit and I have no talent and will never be a real writer making real money.

I think I agree.....

word.

is there anybody out there?

I have been writing, as much as I can lately...
It's been a bad couple of days (months, years, etc...)
But I will update tonight or later.

I hope somebody is still reading and/or checking up on this pile of junk as the comments have dropped off.

Much love.

Captain PirateFace

well my life is turning to shit

so...

rage

Enjoy...
I will be back.....

past-present-what future?

So, This is what was happening before....




And this is the day of my failure in trying out for school police...
"WARNING: Very melow dramatic"





and this is rain on a security cam in Las Vegas...

The Devestation of being the only one "not" in on the joke

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone enough to truly consecrate the hour.
I am much too small in this world, yet not small enough to be to you just object and thing,
dark and smart.
I want my free will and want it accompanying the path which leads to action;
and want during times that beg questions,
where something is up, to be among those in the know, or else be alone.

-Rainer Maria Rilke-

Today I tried out for school police.... I passed:
The Vertical Jump
The Push Up's test
The Sit Up's test
and the 300 yard dash

all on a wrapped sprang ankle.

On the mile and a half hat you have to complete in 17 min 17 sec,
I failed by 20 seconds.

The Pain was excruciating and I feel like a major loser.
I get to try again in 4 month's.
Somehow I will make it.

Guess it sucks to be me.

______________________________________________________
On a lighter note.....
Oh fuck, there ain't one.
______________________________________________________

Coming Monday... Updates through the "Almighty Youtube" Viddies! Stuff that has gone down in the last few days/week's? and below is some crap I wrote... about....crap.
_______________________________________________________

Falling away

Like Alice on her decent to Wonderland we slowly fall.
Focusing on the pictures in the picture frame.
Smiling faces long gone and no longer grinning…
Makes me lay them face down…
I can’t bear to see them so happy.
And, Their eyes seem to follow me around the room as if to say
“It’s ok to smile still kiddo.”
So I lay back on a comfortable bed and listen to the silence.
Half asleep I daydream about you.
And you can’t stop that.
You cannot command away my memory.
How long can this faded photo in my mind last anyway?
When it was me you would smile at…
no camera, no forced smile…
Just a natural smile all glowing and real for me.


The wave sweeping in.

I have long hallways staring me down whenever I walk ghostly through my home in the odd hours of night.
I leave the apartment and climb into the car and sit staring at the ignition…
I want to leave but have nowhere to go.
The key never finds it’s place…
but my head knows where to go…
crashing down into the palms of my fat hands, at the ready to catch the tears that almost always come.
I imagine being covered in an immense wave that comes crashing through the empty cars around me and drowning out the sickening casino neon of theLas Vegas Strip.
Cleansed…
washed away.
But I open those tired eyes I have trained to stay open, but never awake.
All is the same.
I walk back to the apartment where the door is ready to swallow me whole.
So I can sit alone with terrible thoughts in the lonely belly of this Apartment.
Waiting for something that I can be damn sure will never arrive.


And he shot me dead.

I know this kid,
This devil of an angel…
This sweet faced terror who gives out the warmest hugs and vicious bites.
My little boy, Gabriel.
My son.
My only fan and truest friend.
Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know any better…
Like my wife says.
But I like to think he does.
It’s nice to be somebody’s buddy and best pal.
He makes the repetitious visits to the Natural History Museum always seem new and exciting,
Even though we go at least once a week.
And it’s moments like now that I miss him the most.


The clouds looked amazing today

Momentarily, I forgot all the trouble in my head.
I looked up and saw a penetrating blue sky with the occasional dark cloud floating along.
The wind was gentle and cool.
The clouds looked like handguns and ships from “Star Wars: Episode IV, A New Hope”.
And the low background chatter seemed to drop away if only for seconds while my mind lifted up with those beautiful clouds in that blue painted sky.
I felt like I was floating and realized I was humming a cover song by Cat Power.
I guess reality shifted again and my mind came crashing down reminding me how fragile I had become.
And as I walked back into the building I felt a tinge of sadness sneak up in my throat,
like I had been unplugged…
Disconnected.

I think that’s how most things end for me, a little sad, a little like being unplugged.
Sounds like me.

“Come with me, my love… to the sea, the sea of love….”


So many places to be and nobody wants you there.

Phantom horse head looking straight through my guts and into my sublime future.
Big white eyes swirling with dark storm clouds and grey dead skin.
Love notes in my mailbox addressed to no one in particular
heavy with the weight of heavy words.
My smile is so fake I wonder to myself when trying it out if it’s noticeable?
My pillow has become ragged and torn from the constant hugging while I lay alone in a spare room on a spare bed with my spare heart where the good one used to be.
Unfortunately there is no Wizard of OZ in these here parts.
No Miracle Men or Women.
Prayers are answered by a mute silence that almost makes the hearing fear that they have become deaf.
Not me though, I am deaf and dumb.
I am the worst pirate who ever lived.
Though, I can still give a hearty pirate laugh… given the circumstances.
I think to myself I am just a kid…
Just learning how to get through life…
And then remember I am almost thirty.
A long time since the word “kid” could apply to me.
I don’t laugh near as much as I used to and really only have myself to blame.
I wrap my dead body in a sheet and toss it off a cliff in Red Rock Canyon,
Throwing back my head and laughing maniacally…
But suddenly stop, remembering that the car keys were in my pocket now at the bottom of the cliff with my broken dead body.

It will be a long walk home I guess… It always is.


This sun has given it's last sunset, as it falls down dead...
crashing in a cold bottomless ocean.

How many bottles have I tossed out into this dark and brooding sea?
How many have crashed against some bit of rock and sunk my messages to the bottom of the ocean?
Do the fish read my letters?
Do they share my concerns?
Do my letters make them cry?

Now it's dark.
It feels like the sun, on it's last glorious setting committed suicide and plunged itself into
the icy depths of salt water.
Bringing it's shining corpse to the bottom... littered with crabs, broken bottles and pathetic sad love letters written by yours truly.

But it's all make believe isn't it?
The sun will rise again, far away from the ocean, the clouds and this planet.
I can't even send my messages in bottles.
I have no ocean.
I have a desert eating up all the color that surrounds the neon city I call home.
I can crumple up a paper with something scrawled across it's body and let the desert wind pull it slowly from my hands.
Blowing away on heated air current.

Nobody picks up the garbage in this town...
it just tumbles on and on until it ends up stuck to some metal fence surrounding another piece of desert landscape...
crinkling up under the blazing hot sun that will never set into a rolling ocean.

Not in this place.

I keep my secret messages to myself these days.
Maybe one day my dreams will be realized.
Maybe one day these messages will float along lazily with the oceans current while I watch a blazing hot sun retreat beneath cool, clear waves.

I have the perfect letter set aside for that very day.


The day is young and you are getting old.

Some force field keeps you safe from:

The wrinkled old men hands that want to sneak up your thigh so badly that they would embrace a full on face slap any day for.
The cat calls from math geeks gone goth with gigantic skull belts, trench coats and Insane Clown Posse shirts.
The careless world full of random vicious "hurt" that tears normal folks screaming from their car seats and creates drunken bare knuckle, skinned knuckle fights in the back alleys of dive bars inhabited by out of work prostitutes and old men with misshapen twisted faces taking tiny sips from beer they can barely afford.

I want to say you must be an angel, but to say that would sound so cliche and phony.
Though the category still wouldn't suit you as angels could never be on your level. You are that girl.

The one that makes us sad little writers want to sugar coat every sentence and make every word drip with mushy goofiness. The stuff that makes pretty girls wince. So sweet it makes you sick. Like, vomit.

But baby you are getting old.

Those looks that set the world on a spin are going to fade.
So will these words written down specifically for you.
New poems and sonnets full of sugary narcotic laced words will be written for a younger, cleaner, up to date youthful version of you...
as you my pretty girl, waste away.
Wilt.

Luckily some of us start ugly, stay ugly and die that way too.
But my dear we have our memories of you...
of course only the you we liked best.







Shallow like the masses

I wave at the addicted masses injecting their born again, suicide bombing, bargain basement Gods, Angels, Deities and Cult leaders.
Waltzing to organ music while pickpocketing the small change and leaving little plastic crosses in it's place.
And my God looks at me and shrugs her shoulders saying...
"I don't get it either."











Goodnight Amigo's
Lot's of Love and all that fucking, God Damn, Shite.....

Milk and Kisses.

Captain PirateFace


How shall I hold on to my soul, so that
it does not touch yours? How shall I lift
it gently up over you on to other things?
I would so very much like to tuck it away
among long lost objects in the dark,
in some quiet, unknown place, somewhere
which remains motionless when your depths resound.
And yet everything which touches us, you and me,
takes us together like a single bow,
drawing out from two strings but one voice.
On which instrument are we strung?
And which violinist holds us in his hand?
O sweetest of songs.

-Rainer Maria Rilke-

hey babe... take a walk on the wild side..

Hellllloooooo.

Long time no gum flap eh?
Saw the Sin City RollerGirls in action tonight...
such a cool thing to see roller derby live.
It's a helluva thing.

it's 3:40am and I am fighting off sleep as I know I have an appointment with getting my tired ass to the 2nd job at 1:30pm that lasts a full 8 hours until 9:30pm....f-u-c-k..........

The last of the iron men, parade of meat puppets

who is this villain staring back at me from the mirror?

When I get to Hell I will be greeted "Warmly".... hehehe










She gave me her love like a mouth full of rusted screws.

Sour was the hard taste that would overcome my senses
when we pulled away from a kiss.
She left me exposed like a raw nerve.
Pained and unforgotten.
I couldn't shake her...
like a bad dream that continues to haunt me throughout my daytime thoughts.
My routine has been disrupted and consumed by the guilt of lusting after you.
Loving you has taught me how to die slowly...
And I can feel it when we kiss, when we embrace.
I can't help but feel you are enjoying every minute.



Putting the penny on the train tracks.

Swallowing a cool liquid from a metal flask that has been safely guarded in my pants pocket.
I couldn't really stand to be here in the first place...
With this terrible moonlight making every smile seem wicked and cold.
I swallow another drink and hope the burning in my throat and chest erases all hint of the shaking in my voice.
Every corner I find keeps me in constant lonesome company, Pleasing the crowd that this outsider remains outside.
I swallow another drink.
It could be Drano and I would still sip away... trying to fade myself out of existence.
I remember the days I would walk a creature of the night to it's front door and supply an injection of romance with one teasing kiss goodnight.
Lightly patting away a few tears of want and need.
Now I find myself in strange restrooms splashing my face with cold tap water drying tears that belong only to the wreck standing before me, filling up the mirror with a fat man's girth.
I just can't help ruining it all...
I swallow another drink and hope as I finish the flask's contents that it may be that mysterious last drop that sends me home crashing onto a lonely bed.
And I forget that it's empty holding it above my head and waiting for a drop of liquid that will never come.
And I always wait too long.


The sky is on fire and the souls go tearing from our boring bodies to get in on the action.

We are nowhere.
The clock ticks away at a numberless face where the minute hand hangs loose and dead pointing straight to hell.
The smell of sex in the air brings out the bastards from their dank and dark places too horrible for us "decent" folks to even consider going.
I wave at a group of amputee's and wait patiently for them to wave back and only get dagger eyes and a unconfirmed curse word.
I am breathing in the longing and fear and panic and love of the world around me.
And when I shower I can't decide if I want to leave the filth on or scrub until the flesh is raw and painful to even a slight caress.
I keep photographs of everyone I have ever fell deeply in love with, only able to look at severed necks as I tore the heads off long ago.
Calling random phone numbers I plead with tears in my eyes and a heavy dose of narcotic's to the listener...
"Fuck it up let's make some God damned noise!"
And as strange as it may seem...
They "almost" always hang up.


Listen to the breathing.

Does this shallow breath coming out in hot steam on this cold winter night signify the breaking heart that is almost audible?
Or,
Is the mind slowing down to a crawl as the sanity is swept into the poison filled insect nest in the corner of those depraved thoughts?
They want to hold you and embrace you and squeeze the life from that shaking body.
Do you need a coat or is this a seizure?
Will it bite or simply drag a dry and wounded tongue across this fist clenched hand?
Those eyes show depth of beauty as you try to form words and tell us how you feel...
what you want to say.
Beautiful eyes that we can see.. that they can see...
beyond the bloodshot and pain.
You would make an exquisite painting, as these photo's do you no justice.
We walk away now almost too embarrassed to have known you at all...
we leave you shaking and gagging and trying to mouth those words that we can't even hear.
Those words that could have meant so much to us.
You spit out the words "I love you"...
but we can't understand you anymore.
You never existed for us...
in fact, we were never here.



Not today.

I obey that fractured heart that still beats softly in my chest.
That heart held together with staples and masking tape, rubber cement and half true promises.
I became a ghost the day I fell in love with you.
Haunting every three steps behind you.
Trying to make sense of the places you had been.
Burying myself under covers that still carry the strong scent of your perfume.
This world has divided us into fools and liars.
And my truest of Love's I think we can be categorized as both, can't we?
But my place is usually alongside the many fools that have loved you.
As you kept the lies strong and nearly believable...
nearly.
I will write and read to you hundreds of poems professing my love.
And you will smile and nod, listening to every single one...
but never really "hearing" them.
I will still be here...
your ghost.
your fool.







Thats all for tonight my friends.

Captain PirateFace








(A Secret fucked up short) Smiling at me, I wonder if she is mentally retarded? The sick bastard thinks to himself... Could be fun... She probably already wears diapers. I wonder if she digs electrocution?