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you flubbed the punch line!

A rave of monsters
clustered in your head
lanky daddy longlegs like the ones
from childhood--you fled
A long time ago
took place
on pink and white strewned rollerblades
the rainbow sky setting overhead
East virginal periwinkle
and the west a tempestuous red

Those branch-made children's guns
were lethal
and everything we did was legal
a moment frozen in time
a slide show of snow cone Sundays
won't leave my head alone
as will not the monsters

Remember Hampton Village
we were just kids
I still feel like a kid sometimes
You make me feel ridiculously awkward
What happened to my words?
From K-12, I've always been a talker
But not now

A rave of monsters in my head
a pile of garbage
stinking like original sin
all the flowers wilted
in the Garden of Eden
And all the poppies by the pool
In Hampton village
perished too
And you lost those pink rollerblades
And your snow cone has melted
Plus Mom doesn't make them
Anymore, because she's too depressed
She lays on the couch living vicariously through
Hokey sitcoms and CSI miami for good measure
She's too dissolutioned with the world right now
And with herself
And everyone in Hampton village moved away
So I guess I'll have to save
the vaguely sunny memory's for
an especially deluded occasion

Like for when pigs fly
Or women really recieve rights
Or when the Iraqi war ends
Or when the US and Afghanistan
become friends
Or when "how are you?"
means "how are you?"
and not
"please say good and then leave me alone"
Or when I can tell myself the truth
Well here it is,
In the words of jolly ol' Mr. Smith:
If you can't help it
then just leave it alone
you flubbed the punch line!
15 April 2008 @ 01:34 pm

When Written:   a year and a half ago
Status of Mind:  peaking on ecstasy

most lines are long and annoying
and inspire visions of yourself 
grabbing the nearest blunt object
and massacring the closest
line loiterers out of 
pure, concentrated rage
(impatience catalyzed to the 
strongest delirium of focus)

most lines are long and annoying
but I didn't wait long
and I didn't even get mad--
so straightforwardly short that 
I didn't even notice the journey
until an unexpected prod
announced my arrival,
like tesseracting 
from Point A to Point B

I didn't even feel the journey--
t'was but an inadvertant flee--
and lucky me
lucky worthless me--
pained and lethargic and indifferent
(to breathe is not to be)--

all of sudden
I meet the lines end in a grin
and I didn't even feel my feet
until the red rope unhooked 
and invited me in


you flubbed the punch line!
...However, im trying to get better at poetic fluidity and organization. And, well, this just doesn't go with the rest:

And low and behold
Where's the difference repeatedly told?
Between the battered barrios of here 
and yore. the undressed ninas with knees 
suction cupped to the ground. 
a priestess and priest fucking tradition in favor of each other.
taking the communion of the city. 
the communion of the city.
green and red and yellow sidelines
go, stop, maybe so, 
trafficking a mother's desperation
coupled with a brother's allegiance of perspiration
(bang bang bang--his brotherhood's a club for the dead)
the city wrought with secrets for all the world to see
like the shame worn on my ruffled red sleeve
of these clubs I inately belong to 
you flubbed the punch line!
01 April 2008 @ 12:11 pm
I'm swinging low
like midnight palm tees 
on Santa Ana Street 
in May

upon the heaps
of deceased and walking dead
hags and rogues
I lay

ghettoed children 
grabbing mother's milk
but mom's hit the bloody streets 
to their dismay

I'm swinging low
I'm rolling quaries in
my quaint illumination
30 seconds from the sun

A feeling I can actually feel
a welcome sweat when angered 
rebels against a solid 
17 years numb

I'm swinging low 
I left my mind in a
cardboard rain guard 
some shipwrecked man 
calls home

And ventured out of 
crooked alley ways 
pierced pungent with poverty 
to home

I'm swinging low
although I'm home away from
Moonshine Murphy's 
the howls still seem to roam

I'm swinging low 
like illegal refugees 
zigzagging the desert
as absorbed sunbeams 
in the sand

Crawling low beneath
the brazen earth 
tunnelling for passage
to the promised land

Off to the Santa Ana 
shack towns, equipt with 
midnight palm trees
for May's demand

Low and behold 
Where's the diffence repeatedly told?
Everywhere I go I'm there 
Anywhere I go I'm swinging low
you flubbed the punch line!
16 January 2008 @ 11:11 pm
I'm here to be your one and only
I'm here to be your trust fund baby

I never meant to hurt you
Things just never seem to go my way
I think you can relate
We're obviously genetically acquainted

We painted the walls red
Just, in a time warp
You wore torn bell-bottoms long ago
And I'm still rockin' them 30 years later

Oh our favorite past times
They come and go
Like sunsets and your childhood
To which you never got to say goodbye

Like our fathers
At the back gate with suitcases packed
You never sanctioned the motion
To say goodbye

I'm here to be your one and only
I'm here to be your trust fund baby
I'm here to be the prime breadwinner
You always wanted me to be

You called me out at the POV
As I was more than threatening to leave
"What if, what if
I say no to recovery?"
You said "then you'll just have more to
Be sorry for"

So I stayed
But I've still got a lot to be sorry for

I'm here to allow you love to me
For more than just our said kinship
I'm here to be your one and only
Pride shining from ear to ear

And I've still got a lot be sorry for
Please forgive me for diggin' in your wallet
Please forgive me for diggin' out some skeletons
In your closet
It's none of my business anyway
Please forgive me for my great propensity
To leave you in agony and fear
The depths of my deception; they haunted us for years

Please forgive me for your clean socks
I always stole
And the jewelry I always palmed from you
Every daughter just wants be their mother
And marry their father too
(I think I took your locket 'cause it put me in your shoes)

Please forgive me for the wrinkles
Around your eyes
I'm sure I must have caused some
On my latest nights
You'd always sit and wait and fret
A rarity was: my regret
'Til now
'Til now
I love you

I'm here to be your doting daughter
I'm here to stroke your bed-head hair
I don't care about any trust fund money
I'm just here to be your baby
The way I should've always been
(I love you)
you flubbed the punch line!
14 January 2008 @ 10:05 pm
I've got you down to a science, baby
I got you down to an art
I know what you're thinking, seeking, dreaming
Even though we're worlds apart

You're the dirt under my fingernails
A permanent stain from too many lazy afternoons
Lazing in park benches
Smokin' Marlboros like bums
I think I owe you about 20 million cigs
You were always too generous
For the ways of the world

You lie in my lifeline
A permanent scar as an emblem of birth
A native tongue spoke between you and I
A lifeblood at first so timid and shy
Then gushing as the newly acquainted
Spun into gold anew

Dizzy me up with
My hands bound behind my back
Blinded and nauseous
I'd still find you
I'd still find you

Shake me around
Like big crowds always do
Shoulder to shoulder and nervous as hell
I'd still find you
I'd still find you

I've got you down to a science, baby
I got you down to an art
I know what you're thinking, seeking, dreaming
Even though we're worlds apart
you flubbed the punch line!
14 January 2008 @ 09:56 pm
To Ell

Growing older
Getting stronger
But you gave up on me
Tripping on youth
Eyes wide as we slowly slide
Tripping over the obstacles
The rose and receded like breathing

And the scars on your arms
Building that collection of silent screams
But like drops of blood you fell
Though even wounds could not truly tell
Your hell
Wrapping yourself in sheets
Of fatigue
And lamenting in tears
You only reared in privacy
(Those smoke rings you blow
Look like signals for help
Burn your soul with the lighter
As you lose control
Vanishing farther, oh still farther
Inside yourself)

Trading in your life
Walking in cities as cold
As you've become
Trading in your life
I couldn't save you if I tried
But God, you know I tried
'Cause long ago you did decide
That you're trading in your life
you flubbed the punch line!
20 December 2007 @ 12:42 am
i'm in your cold weather stare
i'm in your head upstairs
i'm in your fallen soldier recline
i'm in your shooting star demise

i see you
weathering it
under the table
i see you
marred and scarred
and barely able
i see your lips
as crossed as
the line inbetween
conscience and lier
a suicide unseen

limosines and green
may be coming your way
but i see hooters
in the distance
screeching warnings
far away

you see, you see
you're me
you've been coastin'
empty boastin'
ain't gasoline enough to live

you'll see, you'll see
you're me
if the storm
doesn't get you
then the loneliness will

let's go to Long Beach
where we can bide our time
and we can buy
the company we seek
in the form of hefty crime

we can play the stakes of life
upon those city lines
we can make mistakes
and utter reminisces
from a better time

we're drivin'--hikin'--to LB
amidst these modern times
we can hit the streets
and sing;
some quarters for our rhymes

and we can make believe
that institutions got us down
and push those worries
clear under the ground
(instead of swim, we're gonna drown)

We're goin' to Long Beach
you flubbed the punch line!
13 December 2007 @ 11:25 pm
city sneaker and tree creeper
they never can agree
city creeper and tree sneaker
they never can agree

the buildings line
my nightly stroll
and blaze a public trailing
my happy feet
they pound the street
and echo modern dwelling

designer's heels
corrode my toes
here goes a reddened swelling
the cracks zigzag
the building walls
as vigils to overcrowding

but swollen feet
don't make me wink
instead they send me reeling

city sneaker and tree creeper
they never can agree
city creeper and tree sneaker
they never can agree

the branches paw
the burning sky
a fire into enlightenment
a private show
of the Great unknown
a sample of humble delightment

the farmer's rake
blisters my hands
here grows a hard-earned marking
then night unfolds
my palms to rest
reluctant in their hiding

man-made light blind
to nature's twilight
an endless electric ceiling

city sneaker and tree creeper
they never can agree
city creeper and tree sneaker
they never can agree
you flubbed the punch line!
13 December 2007 @ 10:57 pm
I argue the pros of evolution v creation
I settle my scores through wisps of biased information
I hold a torch unto the gods or God in bitter consternation
I lay awake and ponder the fate of this whole nation

I eat the pills like sewing frills
Onto the rags of steady corruption
I make it known that I'm alone
Even with your tongue inside my station

So take this down
As you would a notation
Sweet release is bitter sweet
It's in our homes
It's on the street
You'll surely meet this siren-song retreat
Such an overplayed rotation
Just take it slow
Just so you know
Access to excess kills the vacation