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

It’s Comedy If You Laugh

Do you taste like beer Stella, does your last name happen to be Artios?

I Want To Taste It Again

I fill these lungs with just enough of you so that I’ll never quite say I had you, I watched the minutes go by, without even noticing them. The days they talked, barely did we touch, barely did we know each other’s love. The potential is far too much! For you to truly know anyone. Save that one you can.

This is the beauty of us. We show one another things we never knew existed within, lighting paths to new spaces, creating realms of wondrous joy – and then we fall. At first it might feel like you are empty. For what will you now do with all the unoccupied spaces? It is wrong to think you must remain with such a feeling – Empty. You at this point must find the perspective to see possibility beyond this supposed container. You must now grow to fill your expanded self! You must grow to meet your new heights

You’ve got to remember that the world isn’t going to wait up for you. It isn’t going to sit patiently while you get comfortable – while you get the order straight. Fuck order, and forget all that shit they tried to instill in you because what you end up finding is you spend your entire life trying to piece together some image that never does look exactly right to you. It’s magic don’t get me wrong, but you’re barely grasping what’s really at your fingertips. Until you do, all you have is a couple unconnected dots that may get you high or bring you down. And have you ever gotten high or down without a sense of direction? Talk about exhausting – only the crazy ones survive that.

I The Unseen Chills

I feel it, and wonder has it yet perforated my entire soul.
A best is that, yours or mine, best.
I wish I could have been better

Sometimes you just want selfishness
to take the last bit of air from you
and while you turn blue,
it apologizes that this time it won’t share.

I Don’t Know How To Talk To You

I don’t know how to talk to you when you take your head off. So I just plant flowers and hope  they grow deep roots. I think back to all the gardens I’ve tried to grow, and I don’t think I’ve ever did it the way I really wanted. I mean the way I talked about doing it all the time. With the alluring path that draws you in, and the stimuli that overwhelm those senses. We have talks that open you up, but it’s not everything I am.  Say goodbye to those quieter parts; Shade is a work to cast and flowers take time to grow. Hold up, keep up, soft as water love to raise a garden trust.

They say it’s love, but it isn’t love is it
I just don’t understand. Or I’m scared that I do.
We want to speak to hear how we sound
We want space, but we don’t want to be alone

I don’t think I’ve fully explained to you all about myself. Probably because beyond seeking dangers of all peculiar sorts, I don’t know much what makes me feel the way I do. Strangely enough though something has changed. I used to not consider the potential harm of danger. I overlooked it, it would never be me of all persons. I’ve started to put the belt on when I drive. I think for a moment before I jump – Before I do anything. Maybe because you made me realize what might be lost if it were me, just once.

I try with you,
I know you feel what I feel;
It seems like I say all the great things,
but I know you can’t be serious about me

I’ve heard so much about you. I’ve heard first hand stories of your childhood, and they make me smile – I know how you treat your family at the dinner table, and lounging around the house; Your goals are beautiful struggles I know you’ll achieve; Your inner mythology drags me under with all its’ lessons about leaving; Breathing all the time is overrated. I know what you’d get as a tattoo, even though you’d never get one, for now.

You better wake up & act like nothing’s wrong

Tool Box Love; Guess Who’s Screwing

I guess I don’t know what happened.

I blinked and everything came unraveling. I think I had some sort of accident that left me numb, left me closed off from my natural rhythm. She wanted me to read my poetry at a coffee spot where a bunch of people did that kind of thing. I said of course, of course I would show up and read some wild shit they never heard before. Her eyes lit up – She was hesitant to speak on what any of mine meant – But she knew she wanted to be a part. Ironically she’d come to be bastioned within them before she had even known that she possessed the desire. I started drafting the fortifications before she was able to draw any curtains; Another odd chapter to be fleshed out of a man who was convinced he had been hollowed out.

I will carry you,
I will, carry you.

I’ve always felt blessed to be able to feel people’s tensions. I never read too many books because I was busy reading the words not on any page – I know things I shouldn’t, I know things before they come into the picture.

I lived to never put up any walls, I welcomed the truths even if the pain would have me coiled up. The vulnerability is something I wanted to know fully for when the time was right, and now it’s clear the time to act is past; The time to open the cage is here. I no longer smell what fear had lingered dear, I only smell the blood stirring, and the sweet rivers.

And it’s on our minds, question unavoidable, why have I stayed so long, when we know the cards on the table – There is no royal flush in this hand, I’ve swept the floor and I know what I’m looking at. Oh that was vicious, I’ll admit it; You shall learn to know that if our time on this earth is so little, faking love shouldn’t take much of it.

I’m missing everything you say,
It’s not important what you stay for;
The sink is overflowing,
but no one is turning off the handle.

The thing with dark haired girls is that you always find their hair in your bed, whether they ever lay in it or not.

 

Quotes for Quenching – 29

“When to say what’s on your mind can haunt your soul till the end if you wait too long”

You’ve always got deep things to say, and words to speak, but feeling out the right time to let them loose is not easy.
You can’t plan the right time, you can only become aware that it is now, and that’s usually when the trigger must be pulled.

Come on, get up to it! Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts – You’ve been waiting for this conversation for years it seems; Who knows when or if it will ever come around again.

And don’t just go saying everything that comes into your head. Breathe in and out with a steady flow. You can speak in a calm manner if you’re patient with yourself. Don’t let the train leave without you either. That would be an unfortunate regret.

I’m Not a Love Poet, but Damn I’ll Worship a Goddess

She paints the world a beautiful hue:
Reds, yellows, black, and blues.
How can I ask for more of one
Who already gives the day more than the sun.

From whom’s light, like marble, she does carve
The winds, and rains which do fill
My lungs with breath, and wets my tongue
With desire to explore all the life she gifts
Forth from the dive into her depths,
The folds and crevices of her lovely landscapes.

I can see it with my eyes closed, and hear it in the silence;
Her beauty turns my thoughts, my heart beats wild like a fire,
and somehow her voice soothes these weary hands,
Inspiring my soul within, spark of a creator, to build.

Take me down, all the way down tonight

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.

Quotes for Quenching – 12

“All that remains of that minute is time in all its purity, bone-white time. Marguerite Duras, from The Ravishing of Lol Stein

But her smile as she gleamed into me,
Well that was something to really look at,
To think how I got so blessed in this one,
60 seconds of pure melted euphoric butter
How stripped of a single worry I had chanced upon;
Like picking up a drink that’s not as expected,
A drink so cool and happening (I do know it’s happening),
That your mind refreshes, and for a bit – You can blink starry eyed into a night that is crisp as a new book; Tumbling through the pages pouring into the minds of characters you’d almost use a second wish up to meet for a night out; Yes, that’s the kind of minute it was, one you could hold on to for a while – Check my watch and realize I’ve still got it right under the little hand. I smile, you’re smiling because you’ve got no reason not to, I look down again and tell myself, “Keep this one, just keep it until the keeper comes asking questions about it’s disappearance from the records – Hell, he has all the time to come and find it.

Oh I must have gone around again, I forgot the power in these hands.

Time, yes, let me tell you about the time… keeper…