Daily Archives: September 4, 2022

It’s Not a Line We Cross

But now a line’s been crossed
Our intuition lost
where yellow orchids bloomed
The land is scorched and doomed
We were both here and gone
We rode with cruel deceit
We took the moon at dawn
The stars fell at our feet
But now a line’s been crossed
Our intuition lost
Where yellow orchids bloomed
The land is scorched an doomed

I dreamed we were standing by a vast waterway on a grand avenue lined with trees in glorious full bloom. The air was cool and comfortable, but the air was heavy with something. Something that hung heavy in the sky. I told her it looked like a fairytale sky and she told me it was the real sky over Tibet and that it was her real sky, not the way it was seen in our country. She told me to stay out of her sky and I told her that she belonged in her sky, to use her sky, because we were here on earth and on earth we shared a sky. “If there were a million flowers in my sky, I would taste every one of them.”

This was our love in those years. I would spend hours in that love. I would try to remove every line from the picture before me. I would try to write it into existence. I would create even a dust spec of this love in my mind so that there would be no room left for anything else. I would crawl into her love to try and escape the rest of the world and just be a part of it. My self would feel somehow erased. I would see that I was the friend of my own self and I was a part of me. “It is a little bit of everything that I need to live.”

On a late autumn evening, we were crossing the street on our way to a bar. I remember very clearly looking up at the sun and thinking that its angle across the sky seemed wrong somehow. I remember thinking that somehow it was a shape missing. It had fallen out of the sky. We both had a feeling of dread in our stomachs. I asked her what she was thinking, and she said, “I have a feeling that we are not alone here.” We walked on and the dread increased. We looked at each other and held each other’s gaze, but said nothing. I looked down at her and we both knew that we wanted to kiss. We didn’t kiss because there was a bit of fear in our hearts. A feeling of wariness. A sense of not wanting to step over the line. That line, I now see, was not so much a line but a spectrum of ever-shifting emotions. A haze. We could look up at the sky and feel dread. We could look at each other and feel love.

At some point, we both broke. She said, “Let’s go now.” and I said, “I don’t know.”

I remember feeling a lot of things at once. I remember feeling surprised. I remember feeling terrified. I remember feeling sad. I remember feeling the pressure of the feelings and the need to deal with them.

:: 09.04.2022 ::


The Belly of the Pig

The demented Photostat age.
The time of no room.
We’ve broken the genetic code
and left it bleeding by the road
where murderers loom.

You’ve changed your face you’ve changed your scent.
You’ve even changed your fingerprint.
Image is anything but with all this electricity
you can’t change your publicity.

The lies the many sing
down in the greed plex
under a spike of light
stop at the slave port
enter the death resort
no stimulation
nothing but mono thought
re simulation
Depop but don’t get caught
I dream to surf, the rodeOcean

Negotiate meaning with no emotion.

If the kill is clean your still got time
to home — evil on the tooth of crime
Ain’t no telling that good night.

You’re the type of soul who’ll find
the love of their life
In a bottle of wine
Hit a girl with your truck
Tell her about your eight year old
And you think that’s OK ~~~
that’s not too bad unless you’re dead.

Oh, you ever see me when you’re drunk?
When the flowers are fragrant
The stars are blue
And the lover come out to play
Oh, I will come out to play
When you’re singing from your grave.

Can’t even find a cigarette
Looks like you may go to heaven
But you can’t take this feeling
It’s in the works
It’s a shame for you to miss
Oh, when you’re at the bottom
You wonder where it was
It’s time to roll up the sleeves
And pull it apart
You can’t change the machine
You can’t change the light
You can’t change the taste
You can’t change the image
You can’t change the publicity
The truth doesn’t matter

Just look in the mirror and try to change
If the paint’s white it’s on the wall
If the mirror’s fogged up it’s in the closet
It’s time for you to rock your roll

What’s good for the goose is good for the gander
In the pocket of the night
Is the belly of the pig
Then where is it you live
And what’s the code
It’s the rat age
The demented Photostat age
The time of no room
We’ve broken the genetic code

And left it bleeding by the road
Where murderers loom
You’ve changed your face you’ve changed your scent
You’ve even changed your fingerprint
Image is anything but with all this electricity
You can’t change your publicity
The lies the many sing
Down in the greed plex
Under a spike of light

Stop at the slave port
Enter the death resort
No stimulation
Nothing but mono thought

Re simulation
Depop but don’t get caught
I dream to surf the rodeocean

Negotiate meaning with no emotion
If the kill is clean your still got time
To hone evil on the tooth of crime
I’m sober on the grapes of wrath
While running down the psycho path
Is this not a cruel world
Good morning little school girl
It’s the rat age
The demented Photostat age.

:: 09.04.2022 ::