Do you taste like beer Stella, does your last name happen to be Artios?
It’s all perspective, a frame we do have our hands on, always adjusting trying to get the right level
When you write as much as I do about it all, there can be no doubting how much you have examined to the depths; beyond what the average has analyzed abut themselves, about others. You make a lot of remarks that are certain, while trying to live multiple lives – only one can truly exist. If continued in this manner the cracks begin to show. A powerful will can hold them together, can keep the reckoning at bay; this doesn’t mean it ought to be. Slowly it tears at you, and while I feel this trial to be of value, it is not by any means a way to live in my determinations.
It’s a funny life, the way it comes around from space to space. Watching J hit the ring back to back in the heat of the moment – to this, here with you going on about your love for popcorn[ironic more than you know] and then just as willed by the gods you collect your bounty on the hook, ringed. Nursing drink after drink, and If I came right out and said what I wanted to – I wouldn’t be me, because me would never admit what the reckless would pour out of slit wrists. I’m good, you’re good, checking up on us – You won’t be there right? I mean a guy who drives a car like that? I’m over that kind of fear. Looking right into the mouth of the fire eating me alive, I can say the carpet matches the drapes.
Yeah I let you go, because I have to. That kind of fire eats you alive, until you’re nothing but embers hoping to find new wood to jump to and blaze. That kind of fire is a choice to flame out, that kind of life is a tall glass of 91 octane; only the good shit – you can’t afford to get me drunk
I won’t live forever, but I do hope you’ll lay with me
“Life comes down to this — you can do anything, there are no limits to what you can achieve, but you do have to decide what you want to do, and then get to doing it.” – One of the secrets of life
Why are we always waiting? It is the man, the woman; who does not wait – patient – but refuses to wait, who becomes successor to the gods
I sat for a long time with this. I let the music play until I did not recognize where I had been or where I was. I am sure where I started was seeking to find that fable of all fables, but that forever eternal is a frozen moment, not much longer than the instant it takes for a molecule of water to slow down to a freeze and move back into a flow with the temperature fluctuating the way it does. It’s a complex measure, in truth, we have no measure yet to define and capture all that is encompassed; apart from perhaps that indelible mark, the arrow that always strikes true on the person who is fully human. Love; Stronger than man-rejoicing wine? More inextricably linked as they share a similar visceral – guts on the table – joy, and dichotomy of honesty & deceit ever tearing. Yes, I sat for a long time and I would offer up the notion that love can stand to measure every nuance from end to end.
Some people really do what they love,
and others are driven beyond love
because it’s not enough. To them and I both,
I offer my felicitations – a belly full of wine
when and if the time ever comes.
What are you waiting for?
“I guess dirt is a good foundation for Green”
– Grace, On what comes before
Do not underestimate the power
of letting a fellow traveler
examine closely your thoughts;
the exchange of words in the old fashion.
Speak beautifully, construct the response,
and fear not being misunderstood.
The travel of two is always a blessing
to the journey — Like a fixed star,
these moments gift to your voice
some sort of guide along the road — Something to bounce ideas off of even if they don’t come back right away. Internally, perspective stirs the concepts, it stokes the flame; feeding it when you thought you might be on your last log
Share the tastes, and pangs of life.
Even if it is dirt, you can both agree on that.
And what’s more, when it isn’t dirt…
you’ve both got something of a shared celebration!
Music to watch boys to, it’s something a certain type of girl swallows;
But my eyes don’t follow
I am afraid there is nothing here for you to take;
With you there is a do not disturb sign over the door to the party
and I’m dancing, all by myself it’s euphoric — You’re there,
but off in the distance.
A plush and comfortable space littered
with shattered mirrors and empty bottles.
I don’t drink, really I don’t unless it takes me
someplace worth disappearing to;
a matte black room with gold trim
keeps all the noise outside – and whatever we do, inside
Wish I may, wish I might — Really do what I ought tonight.
I can’t keep track of it all, you disaster, you ballroom head turner
In practice, you dance alone, but imagine that people are watching.
With yourself, in solitude are you lonely?
The second you reach out someone’s hand is there for you,
although a hand with intention is not what you are seeking.
So you sit back, pretty high, on what you believe to be a throne.
You don’t recognize it but entitlement forces the image in your mind
that every seat is a throne. Every stare is thus unqualified and non-deserving of the art you unveil. You feel superior, empowered to take back what you believe has been usurped by a quiet observer’s glance over the courtyard common grounds. A garnish, you must get something more from those beneath you
else you can not feel whole,
And when they aren’t watching? When by their own self acceptance and love they choose to look through you… what then?
Who will you be in that moment?
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.
Are you intrigued?
We drink from tiered fountains when we’re thirsty. Call it poor etiquette, barbaric behavior, or a health code violation, and we’ll just laugh you out of your own courtyard until the moon comes mad in the night; howling dares up at the gods to come join us in your bed.
We drink wild, and thunderous libations not made for us, but hell we down em’ and taunt you to say something vivacious – with such a fire that livacious might be considered a word – Actively engaged in living energetically; abounding with life; being in a pure state; with more to lose than a lascivious candle watching its wax melt down and drip on hot iron rather than flesh.
I watched your dark clouds roll in, and your heavy atmosphere coalesce long before the cool kids turned you into songs about what you do to their wind chimes and dream catchers.
Ages back it was just us and the moon.
No other bodies or forces mattered.
Now the force is with everyone and,
no one has a clear read.
I won’t go back, I have put foot to this field,
and on the other side is my death or cleansing calamity
And I’ll tell you why when get there