excerpt from working title"SOAP"

I was sweating typing out a creative piece for a book within books, an association of writers for writers. The publication would be grand for me. With some advances and a publication to my third largest work of art. This one was about a ghost, a ghost named Shelby. Shelby Specter. And I drew another line on the coffee table. The story almost completed. The idea started from a one page short story I created for another writers for writers magazine. But as I missed my girlfriend more and more the story became bigger into a short story and about 50 pages of being a novel. I had this feeling that Shelbs would never come home and I looked in the book shelf and saw a Poe book I hadn't read in a while. My face was numb and I had the sniffles. Only 10 more pages til I reach the maximum required words. And now I'm stuck reading. There's bourbon beside the garbage, I just remembered and I walked over and bent down to see if I was not completely too fucked up. There it was and I got a rock glass, added some ice and poured that sweet liquid into it. I headed back to the typewriter and pecked words as I drank, sipping the liquor like joy. As my last word was typed, my face slammed into the typewriter, mixing fresh ink with blood and jolting the machine. I was just so drunk.

can i speak?

how can i speak today in this mess.

angry, alone, whimpering, lost. 

i need an eyepatch like Joyce.

i need a Nixon like Thompson.

i need a bottle of whiskey like Hemingway.

i need an aphrodisiac like Sellers.

i need, i need, i need.

that's all we say now.

needs and wants

decisions and espionage

too afraid to answer the door

the phone

the text

the zone

where did all this time go?

where was i when it happened?

how can I leave now?

i brush my feet in the dew in the morning

then i place my hands on the grass

the sun isn't up yet and i'm half naked

in my shorts

in my passion

all of me

for time is meant to learn

in a sick patience sort of way

think about it for now

speak in monotone

laugh in chapters

fear in darkness

no milk to drink

the morning is the hardest part of the day

drink some coffee

have a shower

maybe a bit of malt

eggs

spinach

onions

heat on high

until it sears the spinach

now read as fast as you can

answer the noise

i play with a flower
the robust tune
she loves me, she loves me not
archetypes and successful thoughts
reach above atop the stars
the resume
the wine
the letter
my mime
i wait until i see her face
glowing in candles and our hands in place
passion, desire, lust, and the rest
disabling me when I'm at my best
she looks into my eyes
i see her quiver
what she was before
i slowly wonder
i know me and the words i sprout
give me enough time to let the world go round
stubborn in gibberish, answer the noise
lay in a creek bed in the swollen fog
the book
oh no
not this again
you've written it before, in your mind and in your soul
our faces meet and i find words
to contemplate my feelings
she loves me, she loves me not
this flower has infinite pedals

coffee again

I drank two pots of coffee today
the only thing that will help me write
it doesn't matter to you, but i care
this is substantial at this point
so don't josh and join the madness
i won't sleep tonight
or tomorrow or anytime
unless i can
then i'll change my mind
but my mind is smoldering with ideas
my mind works faster than my body
that sweet, sweet bean
i close my eyes and wonder
lost in dreams and bourbon
it's the writing way
gather information and act utmost
my teeth begin to itch
my fingers as well
i am no longer man
but machine.

don't shed a tear for me.

entry level

I can't sleep again

cushioned in my bed

dramatically changing my own surprise

lifting a stone as the earth moves

what should i call it?

a child in the window

a baby in the womb

a father, drunken stupor

a mother, face sunken into her palms

a brother of no bother

a family torn into the veins

leaving less blood than a tampon

more blood from the wound

what makes things as so?

how can it just make sense to me?

let me understand your side

the side you look best on

the terror away from your eyes

the light stays and the shadows appear

the life harbinger peeks at you through one eye

dogs bark, kitty's kit and a first aid bandage

save the plant life, all natural sources of fuel

follow me down the slip and slide

to a voice incredibly reduced

at market value. on the eve of Christmas. there she is.

soap

a new baby born
at the tips of my fingers
the mighty one of mine
who will be the dream to be

i write so callously
my fingers bleed
every time I see her
I wanna jump the leaves

so, where she at now?
i dunno, speaking breadcrumbs and cookies
one dynamite show
back to the baby

her name is soap
the beginning makes sense
how i write like a dope
it makes me get all tense

a plan by the labs
a plan that fails
a plan looking backwards
a plan lost in time itself

so what do we do next
my baby and me
get some ice cream
fly full speed

just telling you about the birth
the soap i have
it'll make Griffith
shine a light on me

Gg

tommy mister marvel

they don't make teevee shows like they do nowadays
i mean it, i swear, i honour
with the toy guns and the battleaxe
kids running around playing cowboys and Indians
little Wally and the Beeve
commercials in black and white
drive-thru burger joints where the waitresses serve you roller blades
that girl in the car beside you with her friends
there's 3 of them and 2 out us
better put in our best wingman
which would be me, of course
wingman stu they called me, but i just can't finish
i can start a conversation and get the nuts and bolts flowing
after that, it's tommy, tommy mister marvel
he smiles at the girls and they wave him over
"this here is tommy. eh tom, they're cute ain't they, like i told ya"
tommy nods
where could we go nowadays to eat this burger, i don't want to mess up my car
me, stu, suggests the harold peak
where you can see the stars and crescent moon and go from there
and maybe eat a burger in peace

so we drive to harolds peak
lots of cars here, such a nice night
tommy wants to go for a hike and one of the girls joins him
he's balancing the cliff, good ol tommy
he's walking in straight lines and the girls cheer him on
he takes a bite of his burger, smiling as he chews
then a gust of wind and tommy falls off the peak
still chewing his food and we hear the thud
we call the coppers, they find his body
impaled on a tree branch
fuckin tommy mister marvel
haunting the peak since 1955

silence

miserable manic mania emotion
i talk to air as she sits by the phone
i talk too much, breaking my own heart
coffee in hand,  drinking too much
got to get back on land
away from the shuttle
back on solid ground, pay the man
she listens as i talk gibberish around the table
that look, you know the one, of silence demanded
but i speak
in tongues
into a telephone
wondering what else is there besides my manic belongings
crippling me to find her again
text don't work
phone's dead
she wouldn't pick it up if i called anyways
i'm back to nothingness
the realm in space, it moves around us, guide your face
i scratch my ear to meld the moment
it doesn't work, for i am only a rambling bum
the art will speak for itself
i won't be saying anything, i promise
wait, i'll say something, i have to
"this is my work. i hope you like it"
then laughed at and booed
spinning around my executive chair
riding corn flakes into milk
let it get soggy while i read the news
crazy, yes, i am, and i'm sorry
but new and fresh i can be
with the words that speak through my fingertips
with keaton and keroauc and the biograph girl
i'm learning again, which makes me understand
what it means to be alive and well
alive and comfortable, relied on by none
trembling hands and a crisp glass of water
this is what i have done, what i know i shouldn't follow
i followed the rabbit into the rabbit hole
now nothing, as i stood mute for so long
there she goes, phones dead, text don't work
i'm suffering in my room, tears of blood,
crying like sheep. opiate for the masses
do i understand that? just let me be for now
silence kills me, but at least i won't die a sinner

comprehend

upon my friends they speak no sense
they lay upon a way to middle ways
ignoring the truffles in the windowpane
running around like a leopard skin pill box hat

no
no
just say yes and i will find myself with ways to accomplish more
the wondrous spoilage where I belong
treat this when you all decide to figure out when he tries to leave
surreal-like reels and jumping around on a Motown western Starbucks
the people are real
the places are real
and they fall about into the ground, face first
frisky, fight calm, steady

do not fight with your words
play with your mind, exuberant it til oblivion
get all sweaty and dance
to the disco in that brain of yours
follow the journey and it will lead you gratuitously
comprehend that word for a moment
just believe

what are  you wearing in a bar full of people?
is it that shawl i bought? the loving one?
that little dress from the drive in?
always so conservative
and you make me smile
this blog has been about you from the start
finding you, meeting you, being with you

you are my smile, at 11pm after a filet o fish
or just anytime

yeah,
i'll go with anytime

the run

the run
so invigorating
after dinner
who are you to say the least?

hostile, no
adjusting, yes
processing, of course
role, to be played

I came and I went
I flew on the sides
my legs were achy
so I did a mild stretch

why break this story up in four line prose?
for it's not prose for it is time
your time and mine
our prose is our time
it took me less writing it than you reading

I joke
this ones for you
where were we before?
oh right, the beginning

the run
sweat drips everywhere trying to gain some muscle
lose the pounds
drink your water
eat your protein
I'm in no rush
YYZ

but if you need to run, we can go together
along the side of a greyhound bus
coffee and chocolate in our hand
coffee and chocolate, hell I could have some right now
after the run

the run meant nothing.

drive in

I've been reading the business section
and she still cares about me
all her hair twirls and lollipops
change in hand

i think i'm twisted
i think i'm alive
i think i'm stuck
makes me feel alright

make me happier
dive off the cliff
i'll catch you below
my loving mate

though our ups never see like downs
and my downs are too much to grasp
i hold her gently
as time has passed

writing past midnight
eating the cake
forgetting all about others
who unfurl their own gait

the lost stare
the opening of the doors
quick and hurry, be a godsend
before the door closes

i look in the mirror
i feel the scars
the bone protruding
the pill popping MD

the doctor says cola
the doctor, first mate
capsize the boat
for you both may know

we indigenous people
have taken a plentiful
my back still itches
my soul to waste

i love her in the barren wasteland
speaking in code
to the book on the floor
the one i read to you
the moment behind it all

please don't let me fall...

habits

all the bad habits are coming back
i was winning and now I'm lost
lost in an array of shadows and ego
lost to Jung and King

do i have a choice?
free thought of free mind and will
but where does it go?
all of it in the fire pit with a shovel

bury me for five days and see if i can sustain survival
howl at the moon with me in a coffin
next to a corpse, a corpse of my younger self
he talks to me in my mind

i let him speak words that i would say back then,
like vodka and rum and check and chug
i'm back to that stage
losing, weeping blood and selling out

strung out
nowhere to go
i'm turning into my father
put a gun to my head

what saves me is this tiny box
these little keys
words, adventure, chaos
only i could learn so often

she's good to me
as it's plainly seen
i miss her so
please don't go, don't leave
be with me

i hack at my vices
they are real and i'm weak right now
let me fly into the story realm
where soap stretches skin
your bank book, the killer

i will get out of despondency
go back to life as is
but i hear everything
and, true enough, that makes a sinner

better

i pissed and shit myself today
rumbling in the dark, laying bare
and drunk along side a cohort that knows me well
i drink to feel stupid, for is ignorance is bliss

i scratch my head like a monkey
then i look for her again, just like the search
Daniel realizes it and i speak freely
for if i cannot speak freely, i shall perish

into nothingness, for i do not read any more
i'm stuck in a place i have mentioned before
a place of meaning and lust and gentleness
for i type to no end of this madness

step away and digest
feed your head and brain and mind
but
feed your head

lost like a solider on D-DAY yet alive as a man on the boat
do you curse me into submission?
i want you to hit me as hard as you can
and then some, make me bleed from the eye

bite me, kiss me, fuck me, lie
haunt me, love me, spare me, lie
drink up, fall down, weep for me, lie
hug me, make me, jump on me, lie

where are the truths in this madness?
are there any?
for i love you yet you follow me hence
hold my bag and we'll love more

where is the bourbon?
where is the rye?
don't lie, where is the rye?
test me, tease me, drink up, lie

where else could you have much fun?
in your dwelling?
in that space between floors?
don't lie to yourself.

just be you? just be me?
just be together,
it works
better this way.

meaning

now the meaning of this may not quite make sense
i wish it would, but it can't and i'm still jabbering on this typewriter
think about it and you will see the power of the spoken word
for fame denounces power and wishes it well on its way to junkies

the word of junkies makes damn well sense than you do right now
the commotion of your bloody knuckles, the pinkie finger in the air
don't hide from what you know, expect the worse
for we all follow through, in the night, in thy blood

we drink thy blood, the wine, in mass amounts and it turns to rum
rum away, run away, just go, leave me here with frightened thoughts and memories
how do you feel? tomorrow today? i feel empty without you
thoughts loss, fuel burning in my heart, can these beats slow down or am i stuck?

love struck, i wish i never met you, love sick, sick of it all
crusaders burst through the door we never mentioned before
where will it fall and when will it crack? for answers we're at a loss
they call me idiot and faggot and i respect that, for such harsh tongue

i prefer idiot, maybe not faggot, but idiot works
i can run up the stairs of a 14 foot house and still lose my breath
cigarettes a la rum
i heave and drink both at the same circumstance

there is a house but no home, only wash dishes and vacuum and mop
a dread in the household of many
and i speak these words, worse than before, in your love,, your kiss, the one i told you about
it meant so much to me and now i fall, fall, back into the abyss i only know

no storyline, no plot, just memoirs and true feeling
nothing fake about anything, even though it sounds so
i love him and her, but more so her, she guides and i love
break this riddle and search for days

if you find me, i will tell
will i?
thus will?
i miss you and everything about you

set me free and i'll pay you in love
nothing else
just pure
substantial, everlasting love

are you okay?

thorn

it falls so gently

like nothing even happened

a molecule in the wind

a speck of dirt under the nail

there is more to it, you see

when you look hard enough

question what it means to be

satisfaction or nothing

willows on trees or nothing

society or nothing

she lay there so beautifully

a rose with no thorns

literally no thorns

there must be a pill for that

whiskers on cats

bourbon in a cup

when will this shit stop

frequently admired by some

abused by few

confused by all

no narrow highway

no flashing lights

no misery, or end of it

just follow the rose with no thorns

guide yourself through the crowd

ask yourself where it started

go there, behave

swallow your pride

your virtues

for i sin more than i can stand

you bleed from your palms

neither coming or going

you want to come and go

can you?

the future is yours

take it gently 

follow the rules

give her your thorn

nothing left at all

only undying nectar from the trees

sweet nothings in the mirror

sweet endings of morn'

for i may sleep now

yet

i will jest in the moonlight

belle

swinging from vine to vine
trying to make sense of it all
i know i have my vices
she looks at them so cleverly

our heads don't turn like they should
away we are, so different
i look at you when I see Queen and Prince
you just don't understand me

misunderstood
left hanging on the phone
you left indeed
i tried to hang on

CUT the vines
i fall down like a man monkey boy
then off to work
to try and make something of myself

a slug
a roach
a turnip
a date
a plum
a tomato

you were good to me
it meant a lot
being in the moment
just a drunk

you live your life
seven more than me
i'm on my 9th life
i hope you "digged" me

echoes in the hallway

shattered envelopes of untimely consumption
like fallen memories on the floor
the stress of love has pierced my skin
find the way, unholy kin

to begot is to be
i fall in the grasp of the norm
wondering how to contemplate
the feelings i have dressed in black

chilly nights of the november rain
my teeth chatter til they break
fallen just like memories on the floor
the purgatory of a times untold

city limits don't stop there
my eyes can't shut anymore
I am blinded by the light of a truth
staring deep inside my soul

the laughs, the tears, the dreaded tale
we speak freely in a room of many
too many
and then we ask ourselves how much

5 subjects

i just woke up
from years of sleep
i slumbered so deep
i felt the midnight creep

the self is at loss
he thinks he is the boss
but the unconcious is lost
in the powder room on John

the ladies go to barrel
they laugh in the mirror like it's sterile
they curse their mates
but cure they're dates

slipping into nothingness
to be the best
can you comprehend?
when this is the end

bugs flying through my head
form illusions in the frontal lobe
pet themselves in your cortex
implant themselves in your dreams

5 subjects we need to see
for now i think, we'll let them be

eternity

comprehend a purpose
what were you meant to be?
a teacher, a student
a lover, a wife, a husband
a boy, girl, dog or cat

we just appear
we wonder what happened
that tiny little sperm
the over bearing egg

can we go back?

move forward to turn back into that sperm
move back in time to become that egg
twist and shout at night asking questions
what does the world have for me?

i am young now, so i'm allowed to think
when i get old, i will be allowed to think
i'll be that ear that listens
that lisps, that frowns
going together
forever indeed

make another sperm and egg
create life
through martinis and scotch
wondering where my pants are
following an undying light
the gate keeper to the realm is the lighthouse
the elephant, the brain, the fall, the rise

the will for freedom
can this be what's in that tiny little egg
is this what we call life?

this is what we call eternity.

life moments of life

life moments of life:

hunny can you massage my feet?
kiss the kids goodnight?
call your mother
call your dad
brush your teeth
mouth
rinse repeat
comb your hair
take off your pants
strip for me
i want a show
naked in bed
touching
kissing 
moaning
living
going
alarm clock
9am 
breakfast of toast and jam
10am
i'm late
she is too
sit in my cubicle 
watch how they work
drink coffee
no milk
wandering around the floor
projections, graphs, cellulite
go to the washroom
rub one out
back at the desk
meeting
stocks and mergers
stay awake
3pm
coffee
i need some more
5pm hits
out the door
she made dinner
fish and rice
i lay on the couch next to her
watching stocks and mergers
we go upstairs, no sex tonight
keep me on my chair
11pm i fall asleep
her arms around me
don't make a peep.

57 flavours dream

The ketchup and relish and mustard and vinegar with salt and pepper all in a clever basket to help me coat my food with delicious sauces and fragrants and deliciousness mcdoodle. But what would happen if they fall apart, away from each other and against each other and definitely violence would consume what we thought as condiments. The war of the seasonings. The battle of Heinz and Mercury and Venus. And all the 57 flavours. Just imagine if we all put the sauces together and dip our French fries in it. The war of the worlds no doubt. But what if these objects could move. Could talk. Could feel. What would happen then? Would there be an unjust realm of being stuck behind the machine with nothing to talk about? The machine bleeds as I type but that’s another story which I rather not talk about right now. So, now, we have condiments and, we have a conflict. Vinegar splashed malt on the ketchup and mustard snorted a line of salt while pepper made relish sneeze ever so often. All of them laugh together because they are situated in the same clever basket day in and day out. Never seeing any light of day, new people touching them all the time and making a mess of them while never caring. Someone else will clean them up, says these people, these people. People everywhere touching them. Germs but not quite. Feelings that do not exist. Inanimate objects cannot feel, can they? They can battle each other though, when the customers leave and the lights are turned off. They battle almost every night and the winner is usually the one who falls off the counter first. Weird no that the last person to fall off is not deemed the victor, but the floor is sticky and wet and upswept and no one really wants to be the first off because they would be stuck there until the morning when the wet nurse, well waitress, comes and cleans the floor, all the shit off of it, the bottle of blank and blank, it’s different every night. 

When will this battle begin, you ask? Well it has already started. The bus boy left all the dishes in the sink and now, the party begins." Engarde and excursion you merciful fiends," boasts the ketchup. And they all jump out of the clever basket and they run and jump and duck and glide. The ketchup has an epee, French, for lunging and attacking at close quarters like a runaway fencer. Mustard, oh mustard, he is equipped with a Canadian Pocket Knife, not a Swiss, because Canadian pocket knives are sharper and can pierce through glass if forced hard enough. Salt and pepper both have BB guns but mustard’s knife can cut through them like sugar and cream, so they need the extra zinga to fend for themselves. And finally, relish, relish, has a big fat sabre, slashing and dashing and crashing and fashing. And they all jump out of the clever basket and the game is on. Oh wait but we almost forgot about vinegar. Vinegar has the bow and arrow and to make it even worse, every arrow that he (or she, I guess) is dipped in the vinegar which shoots it. The entire arrow is dipped and it can pierce any object delicately and gently dipped in the malt. So to be fair, vinegar has the best advantage since anything can really happen at a distance, but he won’t win tonight, I’m just saying that now. I would rather suggest that the winner of this event is lucky since it lost last night in a brutal match where the victor also jumped off the table and the wet nurse picked them both up. And to complete the stuttering final thought, let the games begin.  

is it iON?

the blog directs itself now
for the man not be an actual director
there is something there that says UP
follow it and you will find your dreams for the day

alliteration is obvious
sex, sultry, super, sexy
why wash that away with heavenly glow
for we are seekers of the truth
we must succumb to our beliefs

cause if you don't believe
you've failed
again
but it's not your fault
you succumb to genius
you grasp it in your frontal lobe
you feed off it
that power of the pituitary gland
the essence of thought

we are all stuck on thought lonesome rock
but when you find yourself
it's as if you never left
back and  front and sideways
you smile in the mirror
but frown in the day
is this my perception
or any other Beings
am I real?

i feel je suis like skin and bone
but its all water cooperating with the organisms
there is no iON
only what we believe there is
and iON stands tall because at least one day
you'll realize how much power is in a battery
it controls your life
the phone, the music box, a machine hooked up to unworldliness
can we explain it?
GOd no for it happens
in a single text

your iON is working.
have you succumbed to its truth?