Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Cryptozoology and Essays on Human Existance: Jersey Devil
Cryptozoology and Essays on Human Existence: Mothman
Lifejacket
Sexual Morse code
like the beam of a lighthouse
lured me into,
jagged rocks.
Far from the shores of
your affection.
You swayed and swelled like
a crashing wave
and as always,
I drowned without a life jacket.
I sunk like a captain,
meaningless,
without a ship.
meaningless,
without a ship.
Get your breast stroke down.
Arm over arm
and foot over mouth.
Stay between the buoys,
where they
want us to do laps.
You swayed and swelled like
a crashing raft.
And as
always,
I drown without a life jacket.
As always like a captain
meaningless,
meaningless
without a ship.
Im drowning.
Contour of a Girl on the Ground
What is my role in the gang bang?
Hips thrust unwillingly into sobriety,
Spine consists of 12 easy steps
to abandon all significant failures.
I would give up my place at the top,
ego nose dives into the receiving end,
just to hear your dissonant admiration
across my sheets.
Its a long distance from the parking lot
to your inquiring mind.
No pot holes to call my own.
No spotlights have my back.
There are no clear footprints or bread crumbs.
Lucid mazes continue to administer electric shock
when I can't find the cheese.
Im still on your street.
Im still in the way.
The Wolf followed me
The wolf is gonna find me. Nightmare.
I had a bad dream last night.
I
was lost. I dont remember where I was or what it looked like but I felt
overwhelmingly lonely here. I was wearing a white dress. It was very
thin. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. Every freckle and curve
exposed.
I found people. They knew what I was saying but
they refused to understand. Boys with matted hair and ripped clothes.
Long fingernails and long faces. I thought they were wolves. They were not. They were coyotes. Scavengers. Hungry for me but too full of
self pity. Thin and emaciated.
Then he came. I felt him through every part of me. I knew without question. No hesitation. He was the wolf. He was the wolf.
I tried to sing a song to make me brave but I couldn’t remember any of them.
“I will eat you alive little girl. oohh. All of you.”
All the wolf had to do was hold my hand in his and I knew he was right. The coyotes watched.
When I woke up I was no closer to finding where I was.
How Do you keep the wolf at the door?
I have a feeling hes gonna find me.
The wolf is always hungry.
I knew the wolf would be back...
A high bounty to the one who can send me his heavy head.
A heartfelt apology to the ones who cant resist those big paws.
Hips thrown into hungry coyote egos.
Lips smashed against haunches.
Im a goner.
Always the omega and never the alpha's bitch.
Always fight or flee. Never unison hands.
The wolf.
The wolf has my scent.
Spunk and Lapses
Nightmares.
Cop's hands in your last clean pair of underwear.
Pyramids instead of hips.
No Legacy.
My teeth can only shift so much before they chatter into paralis.
Cop's hands in your last clean pair of underwear.
Pyramids instead of hips.
No Legacy.
My teeth can only shift so much before they chatter into paralis.
Scum like you and me
I found him,
smiling with sweat dripping down his nose in
a parking garage that smelled like pavement and perfume.
Your a rock and roll baby,
with hard guitar strings.
And six stds.
He's a rock and roll baby and im his fleas.
I don't mind the mistakes and itchy bumps,
if only I can hear your
dissonant "I want you."
Right in my ear on the pillow.
I got affection and the best pot of your life,
right here waiting with your name on it.
Scum like you and me
only need tight pants and
songs about sex and politics.
We only need to scrape the bacteria off
our tongues.
When we kiss I have coins on my closed eyes
so you think im dead.
Then you cant see what im thinking,
so im still your mystery.
I'll never take your headphones off,
or release the smoke you blew in my mouth.
You like the scrape of my feelers,
you'll never take that flea bath.
We both know I can make you twitch
like its 70's.
Searchlights
I could lay here in the grass another 10 minutes,
brambles and weeds tangled in my hair.
What's out of place and which ones are the dead ends?
Are these shooting stars or more helicopters?
Their searchlights looking between the spirals of my old notebook,
Searching for some line about how worn out my spine has been.
If only pilots could see my ambitions hidden under pencil shavings,
The ink like my confidence often drys up soon after the words come out.
Are the stars easier to reach then you were?
The last time I tried I was unsuccessful.
I reached for your ripped sweater
came back with nothing but crescent moon indents on
the insides of my hands
from my uneven finger nails.
Where do you go when your porch is filled with strangers?
You don't remember my name?
Oh. I don't remember yours either...
And I was too wasted when you said you liked my shirt too..
These new acquaintances never go to the next step.
Searchlights looking through the weeds and rusty monkey bars,
for the place I go when anxiety turns into paranoia.
Does anyone have my back besides these centipedes.
5 Foot 4
She always learned the hard way.
Inspiration never comes without a price,
and people will always pick your meanings to the bone.
Throw the gristle over the fence and into
the mouths of hungry 3rd parties.
There's new rumors that the girl can be swayed
like a used car in the fast lane,
blown in the wind over the dotted line.
This is the same line they drew in the dirt
when she was 16.
The line dividing the flat and the full,
the ones in heels tall enough to look down
on the ones who tripped on their laces,
crying loud as the Velcro was pulled away.
She only wears combat boots now,
the line her peers drew now smudges so soon under her
newly hardened skin.
If only she was strong enough to pick up the stick,
drag it in the gravel.
Her line dividing townies and the ones who got out.
She's still only 5 foot 4.
Untitled
When did authority change from a badge and all that post puberty hair
to
some fuck up you bought dope from in middle school,
who's sold his constitution for that same badge.
What has gone up more?
Cost of living? Or cost of smokes?
Can't have one without the other.
Applied the trickle down theory to my own name.
The effect is slim.
My energy invested in good intentions
until there is none left to provide for the starving self insecurities below.
A "rising tide" only makes more holes in the beach.
Tripped over my selfless ideas.
Abort them before they develop a pulse,
possibilities.
Abort before you become too attached to
a pointless concept.
Now you can just take a pill and clear your mind of
umbilical cords and lost phone numbers.
Of old pictures you deleted off your lap top and now miss that masochistic material.
I want to brake every sidewalk I once followed without a flashlight.
Shatter with the sound I make when my knees land on the ground.,
licking the salt out of my old foot prints.
I used to wear my sneakers so far down
that even I didn't recognize the prints they left.
Fuck. I'd love to disappear like I used to.
Smoke Signals
Smoke.
Typically coded:
one puff: Attention
Two puffs: All's Well.
Three puffs...Danger.
We must stand at a high point for this to be seen. Create a secret code so the enemy can't decipher the visible smoke.
Have
we all looked up at the smoke drifting up from our cigarette.
Searching for answers? Signals? Who knows our code? If we slouch very
low will it soar up high enough?
Big circles. Small circle. Falling back down. How many drags did I take?
Take my Polybius square.
I want your petroglyphs. All those ideograms and alphabets.
Morse code.
Intimate signal lamps and and semaphore line.
