No One Follows Art

All the boys wonder… which part of you isn’t golden? And they’ll have to keep wondering at the novel of you. Not I, because I have my own answer — Surely your insides are made of warm flesh, as I doubt what I’ve dug is even a soft metal such as gold. If I close my eyes and turn on a light I can see, I’ve got a good taste of cherries, mezcal, and that unmistakable tang that tinges the tongue when you’ve got something delectable in mind. And I’m confident. So certain, I will reach right in through the breach without any flinch of emotion; No fear of losing what may very well be the hand of Midas. And I’m just as fine sweeping the floor with it too.

Peach of immortality;
She took a bite,
and now I want to too.
Dulce flor, the hums need more
Hope she’ll let me polinate
I’m licking icing off the cake and I don’t even like sweet things

If I was half as beautiful as you, and naked,
I know they’d all convince themselves that they care.
And because of all the time I must spend
making sure there will be a place to sleep tonight,
I can’t figure out how I should feel about that

This is how I see you,
A blur while I’m moving;
Doesn’t matter how fast
Because I’m always at the right speed
Down a few gears so the engine slows me
Show me
Show me
I don’t think you have in you
A risk worth putting down
When you look this blue

Remember the wedding?
End up feeling worse, it’s cold.
Then you left with no one

She will. Oh she will.
But this isn’t about her anyways
Yeah this is about you,
¿Lo entiendes?
Does anybody?
I’m on to you,
I’m into you
Now I’m in you
And all I’ve got is a photograph
In my head of a good time,
Come girl, you don’t have to wait
in line for a line to a good time
All the angels singing some jagged version
of A Little Help From My Friends
Thinking about all the things I’ve said
Knowing I was leading you the way you thought you were taking me
Who got who now as a permanent image in time,
as the minutes count down,
only the fearful wish for more life.

I got hella feelings,
But I don’t even fucking care

All you ever asked me for was time
So if I get it together, how’s tomorrow August 15th?
Will you hit the ceiling with me?

We don’t even dance no more,
You be teasing with those photos
And I keep it on the low though
Fuck what you know,
better know your worth,
no discounts
Getting all you deserve,
better know your worth, ah yeah
See I’m riding round the city
And I’m stuck on you,
Got that thing sitting pretty,
tryin’ to fuck with you

After a long blur of staying up and destructive behaviour, I dreamt again. It was only fitting that it fell upon midsummer, and of course it was at night. An incredible vision of the back your head, and other illuminated crowns. I finally walked away. I made my decision that I had been putting off, finally accepting that what I came for is forever mine – as well as gone. The well is empty of you, but not why I do what I do. Breaking through to deeper levels of shit, I am certain this is gold down here; who I am beneath the mud at the bottom’s surface.

 

Pull the Trigger Again

Within its’ walls the balance of the world contained: struggle, vigour, magic, and – casting all kinds of spells and garments across the room; I like the way you get down. Is there any time to breathe? If you come up for air, I might have to, I might have to, Bite your lip the way I do. Swaying in the night feeling your lip pulse, wondering if I’m a sweeterman as I commit you to memory

I kinda like you, girl, really wanna feel you,
I wanna feel you for real
We can do what you like. I promise then, I’ll be true.
I say I’m just an artist, she tell me that’s a fucking lie.
DaVinci-esque, everything is a dance, baby, if you’ve got this high.
Degas, the star honey, you’re my ballerina.
Do I make you want to dance real slow?
I got this money, baby. I want to spend it on you.
I got this Sunday, baby. I want to spend it with you
I got this money, honey. Melrose is more than a name.
I got these visions lady, when can I see you again?
Again
Again
Again

I wanna tell you everything, but everything just seems dumb
If I came up with a million dollar idea I wouldn’t even spend,
I got change like that, since none of it’s real.

Hard when I’m coming from a day dream,
I really like when you’re speaking that language,
That tongue got me swerving all angles,
Angel do you take me a fool?
Catch me banging you on the bathroom floor, the counter, the sofa, throw it in the shower, get it on camera
Stoic got me all discipline of assent,
Let me see who you are, what you represent,
Let me put you to the test;
Figure of speech!
And if it don’t serve then I got to put it down,
Put it down like a vice,
But I still got the grip;
Yeah I had too many last couple of nights
I may say fuck it, pull up, pull up on it, and put it down like this my last,
Touchstone cliche to say; Robin squeezed it out of the poets!
And I’m just here in my own moment
I’m here in my moment,
I got everything, decisions I’ve made,
I own it
I own it
Hands all on it
Yeah I got the grip
Drawing you like a well,
For water, for sweets
It’s not that deep, you’re right
But that’s not how I see it

For the first time I’m alive at your altar
Not sure of my verse, but it’ll
Drip from my mouth like honey

Well With Depthlessness Ain’t No Well For Me

“The president is best understood not as a figure who harkens back to the distant past, evokes other lands, or foreshadows the future, but one who is representative of this very moment in America, where media overload is destroying the sense of a shared public reality.

In examining Trump as a product of our unique epoch, one of the sharpest analytical tools available is the theory of postmodernism, developed in the 1970s and 1980s by a host of theorists—perhaps most famously by Fredric Jameson, the polymathic Duke University literary scholar.

…For Jameson, postmodernism meant the birth of ‘a society of the image or the simulacrum and a transformation of the ‘real’ into so many pseudoevents.’ Befitting the ‘postliteracy of the late capitalist world,’ the culture of postmodernism would be characterized by ‘a new kind of flatness or depthlessness, a new kind of superficiality in the most literal sense’ where ‘depth is replaced by surface’

…For Baudrillard, ‘the perfect crime’ was the murder of reality, which has been covered up with decoys (‘virtual reality’ and ‘reality shows’) that are mistaken for what has been destroyed. ‘Our culture of meaning is collapsing beneath our excess of meaning, the culture of reality collapsing beneath the excess of reality, the information culture collapsing beneath the excess of information—the sign and reality sharing a single shroud,’ Baudrillard wrote in The Perfect Crime (1995).

The Trump era is rich in such unreality. The president is not only a former reality-show star, but one whose fame is based more on performance than reality”

If nothing penetrates these surfaces, this empty show of a view; a view of signs on the walls one and the same with the world that holds the sign up – I would be sorely remiss to not make myself the spade that begins to dig the start of an eras depths.

 

Money, Notoriety, & Rivieras

Lights like how you imagine them, all perfectly lit to the evening; not to scrutinize anything, but to allow you to feel the deepest of dreams – it’s a feeling dammit, you fill it all in as you go – next time you fill it all with local analgesics from your recent trip to 2012, or perhaps color it in with temperatures from some of your Sumeria summers. These aren’t quantifiables. They are vivids of the imagination, a glimpse of you.

You can’t slip quietly through any cracks.

I had something I was writing you; it wasn’t a sonnet or anything like an ode, limerick, or quatrain-no it was just something-nothing like a burlesque, or villanelle; you know it had shape, sound and visual! Perhaps a rondeau is well in order, but not until you wait in line.

I’m a firm believer that when you work hard at something, and I mean truly work hard… You can appreciate the master work we happen upon in this life beyond what the innocent eye can see-yes you can stare for a long time and just keep seeing depths, while the others walk by only moments later because they have seen the mirrors surface, and none of the movements that brought it about, none of the steps that brought it before them.

A night with you, is always the shortest night of my life–Before I know it the sun strikes me across the spheres. We’re not anywhere near the…hush, it’s not a dream you can just leave.

I Don’t Believe In Ghosts

I don’t think you are real at all,
I dreamt it up, and that is fact.
I am a writer, and my stories are exaggerated
What part of this is not fabricated?
There is no proof anywhere to be had.

Have I not always been looking to the light switches?
It was always me turning them on and off!

My hands pressed into the mattress, it was all a magic trick
The places I awoke in were just mental jewels
Constructions of an intensely vivid imagination
Of a delusional high induced state of mind.
Even in my own reality I felt the need to be haunted
Haunted, a ring in my ears, an echo I am aware,
I come to them in such a way, that leaving…
Leaving will always be my death – One last time my old friend.

Oh and you are no fun with it at all!
Straight to the point, you want me hung before dawn
If I could just drink that whiskey I’ve been saving.
I’ll just leave it to someone who’ll tell a better story;
Because as cold as you are, you won’t wait for it to chill.
Is there anything I can get you before we take this someplace more damned?
Quiet, you contemplate, but expound no words.

I love when you come around, all dressed in your absurdity,
Acting like it’s ambiguous, but we all know each other’s role.
Come my harbinger, what’s one last dance to greet the sun?
Oh well this won’t work, now will it? Deus Vult! Or does he?
Curious, I heard the Chat out on the street,
told me a little bird had learned of the greatest deed!
Your judicator has been slain! And his murderer; Me.
Who now, will preside over this atrocity? Gott ist tot!
His body slumps to the bottom of the sea.

Still here we are, not having a single stroke of luck,
Mathematical probability is not with us in this one.
You want to be desired for your money and success!
No one admits that, but it’s how they live, litmus test.
What about ghosts? If I can’t see or feel it what’s the bother?
It doesn’t whatsoever, easy to forget, forever.

Everything I need is in reach if I want;
If you ain’t eating a plate, don’t even get involved
Because I’m going all the way, won’t settle for a draw;
It’s good over here, let me show ya

Baby I know Places

Come to this bed at night,
Turn the light down low,
I’m trying to understand my mind;
She wonders where it is I go.
Oh I’m destroying worlds,
As I drag the ink into words;
Wondering which way will burnish my soul;
When I see potential I got to see it through.

Baby I know places,
Places we can go – It’s been so long,
By now every tree knows;
Even before the wind blows.
Do you feel that chill?
Out here in the woods;
Who opened a window?
Oh I did, to get a look at your aura!
Yeah baby I know secret hideouts,
Black markets, and magic castles;
These spots we could really touch!
Places where the wild things go!
Places where they sit quietly and wait for snow,
Places they talk up the lightning bugs,
Places you can do whatever you want to!
Hit it how I want to,
Smack your ass and grab onto it;
Out and bad since way back when,
I know places we could get disheveled in,
Baby on some faded levels,
The stuff where the senses are melded,
Come down and find yourself on the ceiling;
Talk that freak shit and get it irregular;
I don’t have a map,
But my sense of direction always finds water

Leave me out here in these streets,
If you get the chance you know what to say
But time isn’t patient, it won’t wait.

Baby I dealt with the fall.
They don’t like me walking through the kingdom,
And if I can only have a little
I don’t need it at all
but don’t get me wrong
I’m not trying to compress it,
I want this to be light as the first kiss,
I mean after we stopped from the first to catch a breath.
Them hard kisses, and then I bite your lip;
Drag mine across your universe, down, down down,
I’m going to drink a case of you!
From planet to planet,
Till I find Starla at your center
And like Storm, call the weather.

The dulling of the senses; And the drawing of the emotions – Never take to archery when inebriated.

 

Went Out On A Blood Moon

I’ve gone off some deep ends,
Seen some people I know real well,
Forgot their names and played it cool;
See you bastards again real soon.

We was holding communion in the kitchen
Every one was cool with it;
Then you know who came in and put two into her;
Sat at the table with my hands folded,
at this point
I’m not really sure what to do with em’

A few shots and I’m feelin’ alive,
I spilled all my emotions tonight,
I’m not cleaning up, it’s fine.
I took the bullets and still won’t die.
Experience tells me I’m good with the blood,
Now I could really use some.
I could really use some

I’d love to dance and drink, and laugh with you,
Get’s me in the zone;
To see you light up in all your bliss.
Let’s go and strike the night
Come back and lose the light;
Yeah I put on my hazards
Cause I like you – I like you hazy,
I like how you can phase me,
But even then I’m a tank &
Drugs are incredible substances
Ain’t no need to pay me to say it.
It’s just something to get you along
Something to hold you up,
Something to put in your lungs,
When air just ain’t enough.
Because we all know the trouble,
When air just isn’t a lover;
Breathing is something you do,
When you first waking up;
That’s when I like to fuck.
Got my chakras all clear and I’m tapping some magic,
I’m hooked on that bad mix
And I swear that it isn’t enough
Cause I’m up and I’m hungry,
When you coming to fuck me?

I’m going out of my way when I should of went home
Now I’ve got dirt on my hands and I’m touching you,
This is the part where I’m rough with you;
Got me way too gone, how can I be tough on you?
Dying to meet your girlfriends that you said you might bring.
Hoping that they live up to what I’ve imagined
Cause I can’t be out here on no laid back shit
No laid back tricks, nothing but the most potent;
And you know the boys coming through with some off the cliff.
Brought the 12 gauge so we’ll have to piece back some stomachs,
I just been out and bad from way back when
I’ve slept on the floor and used a water bottle as a pillow.
‘I just wanted some head in a comfortable bed;’
I guess I could have got that anywhere.

When you come to,
Will you come through?

The Crimes Committed

I wonder if I’ll ever be sorry for the crimes I’ve committed

History repeats itself, so I’m waiting patiently for you to tell me again, tell me again,
I let a few things trail off, I let a few things get covered in dust, and this jouska
I know exactly where things were left though, the vellichor of the place is to die for.

What were you telling me again?
What a thing I have come to desire
Warm turbulence and lack of breathing
Where have all the long nights gone?
The sun seems to show up a minute earlier
And I haven’t quite found my way to rest

The pages hold something dear, to me,
You have got to release before too late
Or the plot ends up stale;
I mean are you even interested in your own unraveling?
Let’s back it up, you back that up,
Let’s put our magicks to each line not once, but twice;
I want to bring the hairs on your skin to a raise

I’m not one for covering everything up,
Ask me and I’ll pour into your lap,
the colors I’ve been seeing in for a time;
I guess there are differences in how some taste too.

It’s such a wild sense, it’s what really drags us to bed
It’s what really everything is going on about,
If you couldn’t taste the tinge, if you couldn’t taste the flow,
Then explain to me why your mouth is open

Don’t shut it now,
We’ve just begun to catch the sweet whispers of flush in your cheeks
Such a sensuous delivery of rosé hips
Let me take a few more sips,
Adjust the captain’s seat and take a dip
Right about now you couldn’t climb much high-on top-higher now that’s height
You twinkling star-Let me say you are sunsational, invincible, bright
Gods can’t help but wonder if they are the ones who’re afraid to die

I think I might

Just one last excuse to keep on stopping by,
I’ll prop you up, when you need, I’m your guy

Don’t wear yourself out, I know my edges are rough

When I’ve Gone, I Must Bring Myself Back

Pull me up from the slump, after I take a dip in the dark
Pulling on your hair, you telling me how much you need me.
Dear goddess the time I lost down there was worth going blind
so that I could see you new again tonight;
Ain’t that just the circle of life, ride it up and down,
when you hit the right wave crash into me,
and soak my memories – I need a drink please

There it is, I caught a glimpse!
The way you lock eyes with me,
It’s everything I must confess!
The intimacy of that deep gaze
Has me runnin’ through maze
And I can smell you, all over it
You’re in these star jasmines
Your geometry is the heavens
I might need to sit down a bit
Now you’re sittin’ down with me
And we’e exchanging swords
We’e exchanging strong words
Our minds slip with tongues
Speak stern when entering here
Soft spoken chest to breasts
High up with this, angels’ wings
There it is! There is the wind
My senses beseech me to stay
But this is not it, not the way,
My feet move, and my body too
One kiss & mind must go too!

I am only staying true to me, and in turn I lay true beside you

Absence, Absinthe, and Magic

Come on, you’ve been away, and you’ve forgotten how we play

Well surely this extended time from presence has cast shadows upon my memory. Time has begun to bury us in the corridors of your repository. The upside to this is that the further it gets buried, the deeper I become sheltered in a beautiful place. A buried story is never gone, just taking its time to return to us. Perhaps a scent, carried by a cool lift of air, might creep in through an open window and blow the dust off some stale covers – Perhaps you’ll sneeze and knock over an old stack to uncover this treasure map; Perhaps you’ll tip your candles and lose it all in the fire. Whatever the case, whatever the happening, I know absence will make sure my senses quake come the day. Exploding with what serves you that soul flavor, the kind you need just a little more so you can savor, the kind that gets you swinging with some odd behavior to anyone that’s looking without the right cipher.

Empty your cup. Yes pour it all out now – How can you see what’s at the bottom, clearly, if you keep any of the past stagnant within.

You ever get to the last straw? You know the place at the end of your worldly perception; The zone where all your senses begin to mix like paint dipped water – What really is this place? It’s you, your soul, drunk, love, the breakdown of it all, the place where you really have fun – Where you start to really grip what it is you’ve been tasting, seeing, smelling, hearing, touching! Deep you reach for what the tides of the drink hold in the sand bar grooves of your essence, endless, you’re finding new ways to dance and sing! Yes, here you are, you will-o’-the-wisp; Doesn’t the wormwood give such a fair tint to life? We know none of this is fair – But we are spot on with the way we celebrate in this body of lies.

The sound of fluid running across your celadon – I laugh when they try to tell me that your words don’t exist,

She is quiet, but when you draw her out, she is an echo of familiarity reverberating against the bells. So I play the ancient winds rolling across cultivated fields, giving rise to cultured tunes; What is that sound? It’s us. Hear your vase has the perfect acoustics. In all we speak, life is born, linguistically shaped, giving matter form. It is no mistake that you feel colors, taste numbers, and see spells. This is us brought to water – And I believe if I drink enough of you, I’ll have all the spirit I could need, as long as you want to drink me too – Now birth your thaumaturgic song!

Drinking on the low spirits ain’t no good I tell you.
High energy fluid is what you’re looking to get into.