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you flubbed the punch line!
11 December 2007 @ 12:14 am
i'm just a body
and you're spilling all over me
my crevices, my face
are not for your touch
you're spiling all over me 
but my mind's left untouched 
you're clumsy and wicked
but not too much to blame
i don't accept invitation
but fail to block it away
i watch you watch me
up above from ceiling space
you cock you're great swoop 
against my indifferent embrace
i'm just a body
i'm just limbs to entwine
i'm just you're eighth shot 
of a strangers sweet wine
you're spilliing all over me
i'm messy and wet
you quicken the tempo 
stealing more--i'm in debt
inserting more
of that lurking sillouette
every time, every stranger
i'm a little more dead
i'm just a body
but i dont stop you yet
 
 
you flubbed the punch line!
10 December 2007 @ 11:52 pm
Not exactly 
Crawling out of my skin 
Just marginally uncomfortable 
From the outside in

As they talk about their lovers
Bound tight with wedding bands
You're 18 for God sakes!
Have you even held hands?

Sounds more like a deal
With a car salesman's slick
"If you, then I"
In the clause there lies the trick

Now don't swallow this wrong
Take it down the wrong pipe
I'm just no marathon bride
Maybe I'm not the marrying type

I went to the doctor
Got Fidelity prescribed
Tongue a tablet each day
Doc says my lovers heart'll thrive

I went to my Mother
For some womanly advice
She said "Sit up nice and straight
And keep him waiting sometimes"

I'm always looking at food 
To solve all of my problems 
I went to the grocer
The closest answer was almonds

'Cause sometimes
A truth is a truth 
'Cause you make it
And a lie ain't a lie
After years 
'Cause you fake it
And a woman 
Ain't a woman 
'Til she's found her 
A man
And these brides
Are takin' bribes 
Passed from hand
To hand to hand

What would I know though?
My insecurity practically glows
Feeling marginally uncomfortable
Know only a fraction of what's to know
 
 
you flubbed the punch line!
10 December 2007 @ 11:17 pm
Who am I when I first awake?
the first blink of conscious
lazy, two hours after day break
the hazy morning contemplation
the up before getting up
does my day call me to purpose beyond the noise of celebrity lives?
splashed all over our culture 
helping others live vicariously through some unrelated meaning
becoming part of an illusion 
as opposed to solitary exclusion
holds weight by comparison
Because who am I really when i first awake?

Stumbling to sustinence
but only after my leisurely morning cigarette
breathless from last night's marathon
but suffocated without the follow up
why such a hedonistic insistence
upon a reverse of ideals
why can't i just do what i feel
is right?
a puff of smoke arranges itself into letters of a message
"QUIT!" hangs heavy, suspended in the air...
getting and staying done are pesky little siblings
easy to embrace and then they spill some milk
and you're wondering why you ever hugged them in the first place
as a sibling and mentor and environmental enthusiast
Who am I when I first awake?

Now I'm scrubbing the dirt and deprication
off my face
I'm brushing the certainty right out of my curls
setting them straight
maybe I need to pee so I plop right down
I take a familiar seat
and find sanity in routine
an instinctual urge 
gives my buzzing brain a break
because a dose of black engine fuel roaring  in a coffee cup
and my minds off and running
'til the end of the day
but who am i before all that distraction?
Who am I really when I first awake?

The litter needs changing 
the cats all pooped out 'cause i've had more important things to do
my clothes need hanging 'cause they've become carpet on the floor
(it's happened before)
my life needs rearranging 
'cause my potential's wasting beneath me
but maybe potential's not all just what I see
(science proves visual evidence is weak))--

I'm bad with conclusions 
they always feel so final and closed
like the death of a relative who'll never come back
(stop taking yourself so seriously, kayla; just follow through for once)
and what if the moral of the story is incomplete?
(but having no conclusion at all is a greater incomplete)
okay, okay...
I glance at the clock 
and 11 am says I got the rest of the day
to conjure up an explanation
of who I am when I first awake
 
 
you flubbed the punch line!
09 December 2007 @ 02:21 am
I'm a cold hard hickey brawler
I'm an ice cube dipped in vaseline
I'm a lean mean mayhem maker
I'm a lonestar, up on the scene

Crisscracked nipple bitten eat your heart out 'til you're smitten
Loaned out super-stunted teacher student son of no one

I'm a tank top skinny shooter
I'm an eyeball full of slipping sun
I'm a hippie, dirtied, leaning forward
I'm a cupid quiter, to be slung
 
 
you flubbed the punch line!
09 December 2007 @ 02:14 am
 I pretend that I'm mad 
But I'm really just grateful
I pretend I don't want you're love
But love is a drug

I was never set to be the beauty queen
My sense of humor can be a little obscene
The nurses dragged me, kicking and screaming

Crazy Lady Speed's got a hold on me 
I got a stone cold craving to punch you out
Denial keeps me grounded or so it seems
I've got a window to break
I got the city to see

I guess "cheking it out"
Means checking in
I guess breaking the silence
Means erasing the sin
I guess I'm not that nice 
But it's a changing scene
I had a window to break 
Now the city I see
 
 
 
you flubbed the punch line!
 Here's to Delirium


what a pretty little K hole
i never want to leave
especially with such an honored guest
as lady speed--she's crazy!--
exchanging rest for my tighter loyalties

what a bunch of pretty paupers--
perfect poppers, no longer strangers--
how a bunch of pearly poppers
(i don't know) proved such pleasant company

come drink from my pipe
come bask in the glow of this merry cat traquilizer
okay, go ahead, go 'head and drop your blue bapes if you'd like
but im fucked uuuup and it escapes all reasoning, to me--
you see, im shaken and stirred and brewed down to a compound
thanks (thank you) to all these drugs inside of me
im fucked uuuup and it escapes all self-requited reasoning--
that 'midst my double vision, i can even manage writing
 
 
you flubbed the punch line!
09 December 2007 @ 01:05 am
words
so stuffed 
can't pull yourself from the table at thanksgiving 
plopped and planted 2nd chair from the rights
so heavy
like the glutton parked on 5th avenue masticating frantically
cramming his eighth whopper down with
eyes wide shut
so overwhelming
like the homeless disease 
whirring in wind tunnels that'll knock you to your knees
so stricken
with these, these steady vessels of explosion
hidden in languid lips and a sad pair of watering eyes
whithering blankly from a man
who thought he owned his own life
now he's banging on the bar for his 15th holy water
he cries,
"I towed many trailors from Point A to Point B
I've been blinded by the light of famous opera hall marquees
I've stood at the top of the world in my penthouse by the sea
staring flatly at the water, for my belongings
they own me"
and as I sat in that same bar exchanging novelties and gossip at table 35
my curious ear called towards this stranger and--I swear to you, my friend--
my heart right up and left
by candlelight and cigarette cherries did my heart cheerfully ascend
it grew a cape of wings and joined its dear Creator 
It died and heard the angels sing
Yes. 
Because the man--that man--how clearly he did tell 
a truth that I finally managed to bury 
and send to Hell
(Oh the funeral was beautiful
7 black limosines shining like onyx stones trailed in a leafy pasture)
As we lowered the grave I kissed this shallow truth goodbye:
That what I owned upon my tongue
the words I spoke 
the songs I sung
these and only these would provide the blueprint for my life
as if my words were a building in progress 
and at work, a crummy architect who cheated in school his whole life
i consisted of words, and if they went away, then what?
i am nothing without my slick, coersive tongue, my moved mouth at the touch of orchestral poetry
So I strided right over to pay him a chat
to speak of times when I would dig knive tips deep into my virgin wrists
praying unto the Gods or God
that out of the blood would flood a thought, a joke, a ray of positivity in my sliver of world
when I'd layer layer layer upon layer of makeup upon my face
maybe, just maybe, my insomnia afflicted eyes would perk up around the edges
I told him, 
"I had no words
The building block of my existence
I had no words
Like the extinction of the millions of seagulls that make a beach a beach
I had no words, man
I had no goddamn words
But I have action I told him 
And I took action
And now I've got endless, abundant, enlightened pools of language
my hands got busy and my mind followed
My inability to create once destroyed me 
and I wondered how long I would wander in this desert of futility
Until I buried the purported fact that my words owned me
So much so that I could not bring them about by force, they refused to come at my anxious beckon
Man, I know how it feels to be owned
And her left his now 17th galss on the table 
and we followed the glow of tacky tavern sign
and just talked 
 
 
 
you flubbed the punch line!
07 December 2007 @ 12:40 am
 i feel like sleeping--
more like passing out
i'm more than just peeping
at a fluke turned habit
a year (or more) far-slung
am i the only one?
slumped behind the artificial sweetener
an intoxication too familiar
doesn't SCREAM impending danger
(just whispers)
but to anyone else:
you'd enjoy yourself
i do not
yet from a wealth of self knowledge
not a resolution is wrought
my word means squat
my words i shovel back into mouth
like sustinence
i'm perfecting the art of temporary resistence
i always come back
just like the naked compton crazy
he always smokes crack
and the holes in his brain
won't deter his captured heart
and this bulging obsession
will rip me apart
 
 
you flubbed the punch line!
07 December 2007 @ 12:27 am


(Preamble)

i am repulsed
and everything is falling into place
She owes her friends, her boyfriend and her kids alike
all that all that borrowed money
and to pay for What?
as a teacher
making $65,000 a year
plus $500 a month in child support
What in the fuck is Her financial feat derived from?
Her eccentric, stessed out  discontented demeanor
She is coming undone
how could i have been so blind?

the two expensive Wine bottles
almost fully full
are now down to a mere 3/5ths each
2/5ths + 2/5ths = 4/5ths of a bottle
She drank before fleeing to the restaurant
where She drank two glasses
if not more
with Her boyfriend
only the top-notch Vineyard Juice
and who but God knows
what Booze she snuck later...


(the Main Squeeze)

and now there's talk of other Drugs
not to shun the chatter of
such Subjects in the past
but what's done is done
and i had moved on
this time the third to digging up
Her last run
ive forgiven--how?--and faux forgotten
though the absolution sat always
in heaps away from true
the delaying realization--now!--of what i know as Mother now
and Who i knew

i didn't mean to rummage through
and peak Her quaint Addiction
but my hands painted red
the white residue of This scene
tapered off with caution tape and vaseline
a slippery wet dream into
Mother's Disease
a being now deceased
Her eyes within hold
a widening, deadening gleam


She is wildly discontented
She is unwinding at the seams