toughen up little soldier

the veins and pancreas of pop-culture

poetry

november 21 2009
knows there's something youre not telling me; Santa has my headphones but I can't wait. the phone will ring, but never with the proper sound and you need snow to ski. you need to dirt to die. 500 days till summer. 8 glasses a day; I try. fortune cookie: Stop Waiting! Buy that ticket and Go! not even joking, that's what it said. So off I go. to cover myself in acrylics. head to toe. measure me only by the sounds i make and the number of times i blink per minute. Why do you let me stay here?

november 19 2009
is distracted, need a new rug. canvas; you are too expensive, math and science go to hell. pain on the left. my phone won't ring, and nobody makes turn table needles Anymore. my last name is coming up and then it will snow and then I will count the days untill summer. then graduation. but first; colors of the wind. tonight. im going in through the out door, with all sanity intact. I think.


then i was on top of a mountain. looking down at all the things i couldnt get out of my head. and it was like a silence id never exerienced. everything was quiet. i just stood there, not thinking about anything. i felt the time pass over me like wind and dry up my thoughts like rain from yesterday. was it minutes, hours, days. i stood there. everything was quiet.

dec 10 09
So there it is again, were never in the same boat. you can be my friend; but Ill just take advantage. on, float. hummingbird tattoo, i drew you; singing on stage with just my fingers and some paint. if the world ends, ill never grow but thats ok; i wont get old. and you and me can end out life on my basement floor in the morning light, with soft record music drifting around and only us and only sound.

dec 13 09
hark hear the bells, life sure is swell. laughable headphones for laughable situations, and singable songs for too big sized thongs. tried to write you a letter but it came out like a wedding vow. wow. Does that make it better? so your willing if im willing, but im sort of wishing to go fishing but wed be rowing while its snowing. cause its winter. what a sinker. its still sunny in my room.

dec 29 2009
this is the deadbeat inbetween days. cant we just let them slip away. and get there faster, to next year. when love and light and all your fear, is only something they read to you, from bathroom stalls and morning halls. in breakfast nooks by chefs and cooks. in planes and trains and fane dezane. of sky and seas and bumblebees.the transformer, im just an out of work performer. this is my song of monday night. when all feels good and all feels right.

jan 08 2010
is modern impressionism. abstract conformity and advanced realism. darwinism. dinosaur. anti-social metaphor.

feb. 08 2010
Hello train. Choo chhoose love over pain, and magic in new york. Its a vampire weekend when you live on the freak end, of the tracks. The right side of the wrong side. It's somewhere to hide. All aboard

feb. 14, 2010
i bet you feel so exotic, in your brand new pond and all. and either youre too big or it's too small. cause the boy fish there they all go mad, for your love that they can't have. and the road between is longer than i thought. and sitting here im starting to rot. but ill get on i always do. i just wish that i was there with you.

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this city makes you crazy, with the same beats and streets, the same buildings and potholes. the same people at school, on the corner and the same old rules. where traffic is scarce and it's so white there's a glare. if you sit in a chair, real still, and all you do it stare, and pull at your hair, in this little city that once could but now we know it never will.. you'll go crazy. but it's nice in the summer.



Remember when Suzie was alive Again?

She and her waterproof camera would follow me everywhere
with my friends to the shore
to the bus stop
the edge of the yard

Where mom made her stop and turn around
she wasn't allowed past
because I was older
but she would wander

I got her pictures printed at Walmart on a Tuesday
Blurry faces and out of focus flower beds
A 4x6 memory of me on my bike
and a woman with a scarf around her head and face and dark skin
shopping for groceries
You could only see her eyes

Mom was mad and took away the kodak
and Suzie cried out noises
but I knew why my sister took that picture
my sister liked beautiful things that she didnt understand

That's why she followed it
the long insect with a green end
long sheer wings and a vibrating song
to the edge of the yard

Past the edge and into the road
where a big yellow truck was turning the corner
too fast, I told them
but she saw the speeding demon
she wanted it on film.

They buried Suzie on a Monday
her face blank and focused
Before her memory was reduced to photos
and the out of focus flower beds.
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2 comments:

mark twain said...

whimsical and erratic. id like to see your brain move.

Anonymous said...

free verse is like paint by numbers,but easier! it's easy as fuck and requires little actual skills in poetry,

you fucking suck
your out of luck
cause your stupid blog
wont make you a buck

-anonymous