Cerebral Sensory Chaos

Infuriated by all the stimuli that
assaults my consciousness and overloads my
devastated by the artificial flower that
has a glorious scent,
pontificating all day with meager souls
pretentiously pouncing being to being
prostituting my spirit with no shame,
slash the vocal cords out my mother’s
happiness is for the foolish,
the dead fish which no longer exist,
do you exist? Justify your existence,
you don’t exist you deceive,
to all the tortured souls
suffer on more,
for to suffer is to be discontent,
and to be discontent is to not be content,
and to be content is to be the object
of my greatest disgust.
  • Current Music
    John Coltrane- Psalm

Twilight of my suffering

Silence and solitude free me
from all which consumes conceal me,
the unbearable burden of noise,
torturously terrible,
infinitely wretched,
silence ALL!!!
Your very being nauseates me,
my will to nothingness is all I have,
the eternal suffering of the damned is all that brings me joy,
heal me with your touch and
teach me how to catch the dragon,
I want to learn your ways women,
teach me your games women,
you are my salvation, in your arms
I feel the warmth of my will to nothingness,
brain explode!
Escape yourself,
drink wine, boost thy “Id”, silence thyself!
  • Current Music
    Charles Mingus- Pedal Point Blues

Poetry as the flower of life

When one cannot dance
one must learn to dance with words,
to communicate the incommunicable
to communicate the virus,
what nobler task then expressing this disease
with such artful grace and with such pleasant delivery,
all the worlds suffering on to thee who speak without style,
curse the man who burdens us
with wretched ephemeral babble,
live long those musical word smiths,
those delightful creature creators.
  • Current Music
    John Coltrane: A love Supreme
yoshitomo nara

livejournal poem 2

Death and Tea

Back before the dead had names
on stones or places reserved deep
below a recess of dampened earth,
back before, we traipsed through
overgrown graveyards like kites
buoying weightless on flossed strings--

I pull the memory of cold tea stagnant
in blue-rimmed cups out of my mind's pockets
like used kleenex, crumpled posies--and you,
sleeping like a tea kettle below the sheets
before you died like all things do

and we put you back in the ground.
  • Current Mood
    discontent discontent
pandora's box

Just a Quickie

I looked up and saw metal.
I looked down and saw metal.
I looked left,
Looked right,
Saw metal.

Something ain't kosher.
Something ain't right.

Why are we schlepping around our ancestors on our backs?
Pretending to schvitz like pigs in a slaughterhouse?
oh look,
right there
in the middle of slaughterhouse.
There it is.
There's laughter.
  • Current Mood
    anxious anxious
yoshitomo nara

livejournal poem 1

completely unrevised bouts of freeverse:

Some other girl would push the sleeves
of a threadbare cardigan up her delicate
white arms, her trimmed bangs fringing
like scissored strips of paper and tell you

how many trees grew in her front yard back
when she was three, twirling sparklers past
collapsable lawnchairs grazing the lawn,
her father grilling pink strips of steak--
his apron strings trailing down the backside
of his wrinkled Levi's, humming the Notre
Dame fight song as his daughter goes by

but I am the girl who lets her sleeves drag
over the fingers, protectively, like gloves
or winter mittens and I do not tell you of
my past where I never knew anything of wands
or firecrackers, or dancing past smokey grills
that sizzle out and flail the scents of slow
cooked meat. My father rarely did the cooking,
and we lived in places where concrete overtook
grass and dirt, fire escapes came before trees--
and besides, I would not want you to love me
for these small details of my past, these precious
artifacts to hoarde and swap and contain in the
tumult of distance, the space between two.
  • Current Mood
    frustrated frustrated

(no subject)

Control of Her


As the rain starts to fall

She gathers her objects

That has kept her tied to Him.

Hear the door SLAM behind her

As she runs outside.

Kneeling down on her knees,

She looks up at the drunken sky

And screams

“Rain Wash Me,

Make Me Whole Again,

Flood Him OUT of MY Life,

Liquefy These Chains,

He Needed to Keep Me Here.

Cleanse Me Rain,

Set ME Free!!”

With a shovel in her hand

She digs a hole like her life depends on it.

She knows that her life may depend on this hole.

With a toss,

The sacred items He gave her

Go in the hole.

Drenched and Shivering

Soaked to the bone

She takes His picture,

And lays it on top

She wants Him to see her

When she buries His Control of her.

With one last goodbye—

Goodbye for good this time,

Fragile and meek she starts to shovel this dirt back in,

Covering the last piece of Him in her life.


She notices as she kneels,

The rain has stopped.

And this feeling overcomes her.

She knows that for the first time in years,

She no longer feels His chain around her neck.



  • Current Mood

(no subject)

One night my g/f was over my place and we were listening to music on the couch and cudeling and such...for a reason that i cant really say she cried i can tell you why she cried but i cant tell you what pulled the triger, she cried because she thinks she is not good looking which is very sad because its not true but we both fought the tears and made the most of the time we had left. Days later i felt poetic and the band "Thursday" helped me to put my feelings into words, so after listening to "Thursday" for 3 days or so non-stop i came up with this poem "Emotions Exposed…Now We Can See"

Emotions Exposed…Now We Can See

I approach like a killer
I silently move…leaving no trace behind.
The sun is drowning in the sea…
Where the dead bodies sings the lullabies,
While we departure to a different night.
As I make myself closer to a tragedy
That repeats in my dreams…
And we try to unwind the barbwire
Wrapped around our hearts.
She lets out tears
As the fist goes through the mirror
Splinters flying in the air
Cutting up opening wounds
She doesn’t seem able to fight it
But she doesn’t seem to know to realize how beautiful she looks
If I only could convert myself into a liquid
That she could inject herself with…to be her cure
That breaks down the pain
And show her what she can’t see
Can I be your ecstasy?
The rapture that you could capture.
But she doesn’t know how much it hurts
Too see the sad look on her face.
We screamed to this night
Our hopes are that we’ll make it out alive…
Walk backwards
Retrace your tears
The eye shadow drips down
I engage myself to the honesty of my words
For her to believe or throw it back
But I hope she’ll catch it back in mid air
She looks quite from where she is laying
Involve some oxygen in that silent gesture
We lay on two different hospital beds
Her eyes are closed, as she stays damaged
Mine are half opened, as I stay broken
I push all my strength into my lips
To whisper words that she has trouble inhaling
Tenderly choking me
And I bite my lower lip
To come up with better words
To describe my emotions
The waves in the ocean are dancing
To the beat of our hearts
As our breathing collide.
Its bitter in my mind
When her past gets caught in the present
I wish I were stronger so I can toss
These sharp images out of my mind…
Now I’m a few footsteps away…
This note written with dead words and dry ink
On skin that reminds me of suicide
That’s been cut off with razorblades
Drawn and now erased.
The knife screams goodbye
As I stab myself
Letting out blood
My inside exposed to the world
Now you can see
That my words where real
So please paint yourself
With a smile that you put on my face…
Our youth will speak and explain
What went down that night…

(no subject)

A few friends of mine were having trouble with love and I was having a bout of insomnia so while I was trying to sleep parts of this poem started to form themselves in my mind. I then decided that if I wasn't going to sleep anyway, I might as well write the poem down.


Love dreams and is set to flight upon the stars of night.
Lightly it hang sideways; the moon's display,
arrayed splendor that draws the careening human tide.
Glides back. The abyss ever drawn away.

Naught never swallows and remains in sight.
Alight; ever gleaming, to assail lusts abatement.
Statements dispatched; sent forth with words to write.
Height of pursuit attained, O words, fall Somnolent.

Through the oneiric curtain, sound lilts and is set off.
Love, here, dances in dazzle sheeted fields.
Yielding up, such purple blossoms and gaily lit laughs;
chaffing the fools that chased but did not kneel.

Age lurks at the edge of what we utter.
Letters discarded; Dreamer waits in sparkling reflect.
Nectar drawn up through our eyes unshuttered.
Stuttering the lost passage of our love; genuflect.