I, swimming against the tide... am being washed out to sea...

"Every time you close your eyes.."
-Arcade Fire-




So Kiddo's, if you want that promised book of poetry and prose (ten pages jam packed with the ramblings of a sick and desperate man) please mail a check, money order or cash in the amount of $10 to:

Captain PirateFace
4630 Koval Ln
Unit 62B
Las Vegas, Nv
89109

and of course please check out my e-bay listings, just look up the seller: captpirateface or look at the last desperate blog I put on here for direct links to the auctions. I really need the $$ kid's.
Things are bad and this time I have no secret weapon to making things work out just fine. I am looking at losing a lor of things here.

Sorry about all the begging for $$, but if you were in my shoes I think this is more honorable then other ways to acquire funds.

enough of this shite now then eh?
____________________________________________________________________

So, not much as of late... Thanksgiving is upon us, or as I like to call it the "Kiss the family's collective butt-athon". And I get to add just a wee bit more weight to my fat ass. yippee.
If anybody wants to throw out another title for poem or "title's" for "poem's", I will be happy to write a poem to accompany the title you give me... why? It was fun to do the first time and I think it would be fun again. That is all I got right now... see ya later.


Arcade Fire's

"My Body Is A Cage"

My body is a cage
that keeps me From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key My body is a cage
that keeps me From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
I'm standing on a stage
Of fear and self-doubt
It's a hollow play
But they'll clap anyway
My body is a cage
that keeps me From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key
I'm living in an age
That calls darkness light
Though my language is dead
Still the shapes fill my head
I'm living in an age
Whose name I don't know
Though the fear keeps me moving
Still my heart beats so slow
My body is a cage
that keeps me From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key
My body is a
My body is a cage
We take what we're given
Just because you've forgotten
That don't mean you're forgiven
I'm living in an age
That screams my name at night
But when I get to the doorway
There's no one in sight
My body is a cage
that keeps me From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key
Set my spirit free Set my spirit
free Set my body free

_____________________________________________________________________


I am not asleep

I place an outspread hand on
the usual cold of the street.
Concrete that feels familiar, as I have laid my face
miserable and drunk on it's uncaring cold man made earth.
And some days, the lunatic in me...
the closet dope fiend in me...
Misses the hell out of the familiar feeling of going nowhere.
Rather that feeling then what sick desperate feeling I live with now...
Falling down.


The get up and go of routine and doing not that much and/or... nothing.

Been standing in hallways again... Listening tot he death rattle of nervous decaying air conditioning units. Picking at baby scabs and counting out the grown up scars. And playing psychic as to how many more will cover this terrible man's terrible body. And as you can see... or guess... I am just not all there. Like a ghost that refuses to "not" be seen. They notice me in half conscious realization's. And the day I disappear they will whisper in those hallways I once stood... sometimes proud, sometimes half dead... "What ever happened to that guy?" And nobody will have that answer.


Damn shoes and the death penalty

I am on the run.
My shoes
killed a man.
And I am attached
to my shoes...
as we run into the night.
we are the perfect pair.
And when we get caught will I get the comfort
I have now while walking to the electric chair?
Will my shoes make it to the burial?
Does rubber melt when you fry?


reaching the sea

I don't want to talk anymore.
But I will write soon.
Stuff messages into green glass beer bottles
and drop them into your bath water while you relax unaware.
Some will be eloquent, poetic and beautiful.
Some with just a huge sharpie S.O.S.
And some will just be blank...
(meaning that at that time I have nothing to say).
And the important ones will be dropped of a pier
in the darkest hours of late night early morning.
Those will be the ones you will really want/need to read.
But the ocean will swallow them whole
and neither of us will ever have a decent conversation ever again...


A message of hope... save it for the dying.

I have finished up with hope.
I cant hear it anymore.
I am now deaf to you hopes...
Your loves.
I am infected with a low survival probability.
My stage curtain has closed and there is no clapping...
no audience.
Filling up with bad news and regrets and the always looming and angry doom.
Lest we forget that sharp little pain that cut's right htrough the center of our hearts.
I sign on the dotted line that I give in...
Good luck to the rest of you, I hope your strength keeps hope alive where my cowardice just shoveled the last bit of earth on it's shallow grave.



Good Night and let those fucking bed bug's bite!
THEY ARE DAMN HUNGRY... SELFISH PRICK!


Captain Pirateface