Wash up in sorrows,
My sink has bad drainage,
We all aim for the top with different landing spots
Always the same plane;
Red moon red sky red storm red night,
Nocturnal force their eyes closed,
Force my eyes closed;
To never see an end read this relive moments again,
But everything collects dust, over and over turns into on occasion friends you were cool with become friends who are nameless, faces mixed into the crowd of things clouded from my 3rd eyes sight, so I’m blind to the emotions and rollercoasters of waves in the ocean that we call life, and when they hit im drowning not from lack of oxygen but an abundance of fear, even though this is just a metaphor things just seem so real, surreal, is it abnormal to think that if I do good, good things will come to me? That one day I can be apart of a world where nobodys judging me, wishful thinking, prying eyes disguised with fake smiles and hollow congrats secretly plot and devise ways to pull you down so they can float cause we all drowning no matter how hard you kick eventually you goin down and when that happens in a moment of weakness can anyone truly say that they won’t? I know I can’t but I wish I could,
WishFull thinking.
Oz
The difference in you,
I’ve the heart with no courage,
You’ve the brain with no passion,
Same pursuit both travel down the yellow brick rd.
Hoping to complete ourselves
Fill in the blanks of our souls,
Goals inter-twined, feels like destiny has brought us here
Plucked from our fantasy, placed in eachother’s reality
Versa vice,
See everything from a different sight,
Its like switching your camera effect from sepia to black&white,
You’ll see the pain in mediocrity beauty of simplicity
This out of body experience makes me miss the me in me,
The yellow bricks run out we’ve reached the end the road
The wizard offers one wish,
We wish to never be whole.
nature of the beast
teaching a wild creature to feed from your hand is a feat maybe maybe not Mom taught me from a young age then never let go in June 2013 the estate will cease all the coats hats shoes scarves skirts dresses blouses belts purses from Ultimo Saks Neimans wherever steaks from Gene and Georgetti’s Gibsons whatever will be consumed and she will be forced by the bank to resign her condo on lake shore drive and go live with her sister and i will be left with nothing
nothing feels better than fighting back gathering the strength courage to do that to fight until there is no daylight
the world is a mysterious place it is Sunday December 26th 2010 6AM pitch dark outside in several months daybreak will come earlier a remarkable surprise yet always been this way in several minutes firmament turns light i open eyes stretch legs look out window pink blue gray blue morning skies tree tops mountains watch flock of birds maybe 30 or 40 flying back and forth east west why do they do that how would you like to be one of those birds flapping around searching from above at the earth hmmm what if everyone had a penis and vagina feathered wings fin distinctive tail floppy or pointed ears what if you could share breakfast or lunch with Kim Gordon Patti Smith work on poem with e. e. cummings James Joyce William Faulkner paint with Mark Rothko Anselm Kiefer play football with Payton Manning Drew Breeze jam with Jimi Hendrix Keith Richards race with Secretariat sniff with Lassie mix with Max Ernst Georgia O’Keefe Donald Judd meet with Gandhi and J.F.K. make love with Charlotte Gainsbourg Kate Moss dinner with John Lennon Friedrich Nietzsche dance with Albert Einstein Isadora Duncan share a smoke with Sam Clemens (Mark Twain) Sam Shepard last drink with Sylvia Plath Virginia Woolf then go to sleep next to Sphinx Pyramids wake with Cleopatra Mata Hari on Bali beach look up at tiny puffy clouds that resemble strange script do you understand the possibilities mysteries of everything
old is lecherous but i’m still trapped in childhood hurting wanting to be grown-up
i think i said i don’t know how to talk i was speaking to this jerk greedy landlord trying to negotiate between 2 different spaces long distance and i meant to say i can’t talk right now i’m in a restaurant or shop but instead what came out was i don’t know how to talk he was insulting me bullying hollering at me on cell phone accusing me of dickering about price lease and it slipped out my terror from Dad my childhood fears repression inability to negotiate i froze fumbled finally uttering i don’t know how to talk then disconnected
i’m running scared gasping for breath heart pounding yearning praying crying for love beauty happiness success i’m smart creative powerful yet inept too shy or fearful to know how to properly spontaneously speak in person
what if consumerism is realized as a mental disorder a method to suppress genuine hunger with fetish products
what if money is identified as disease actual legal tender found to source fatal viruses
what if humanity is discovered to belong to an alien predatory race independent from Adam and Eve or monkeys
what if all knowledge is found to be deceptive invention concealing real world truth
what if existence is a chess game or trial enacted by higher forces and your every thought feeling recorded in eternity
what if progress is the enemy and primitivism the remedy
my whole life i’ve learned about infidelity my mom sister dad uncle i don’t understand i’ve never been unfaithful to a girlfriend (one is enough one is more than i can handle) why do people speak those vows then get married only to violate themselves their mates maybe that’s why i am afraid to ever get married infidelity is the most painful betrayal to find out your partner with all your shared secrets compromises them with someone else oh god
April 19th 1995 a bomb explodes in Federal building in Oklahoma City killing 168 people injuring 759 what are Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols thinking did they act alone there are so many lunatics running around out there so much misunderstanding disenfranchisement in America
Arlington Street Asheville North Carolina June 1995 Odysseus and his dog Farina keep mostly to themselves something is wrong with his voice he sounds hoarse when he speaks it is uncomfortable to talk he goes to free clinic and waits half a day elderly doctor attempts to stick long metal instrument down Odysseus’s throat Odysseus gags coughs elderly doctor becomes irritable he warns Odysseus to quit smoking Odysseus wonders what it would be like to be loved possibly married in loving positive relationship to know all the endearing enduring connections between caring couples other people manage it why can’t he? he thinks i’ve never been a good provider nor placed enough value in money i believe in freedom and love i chose to make art and pursue a life of self-discovery experiment dang i am wrong from the moment one’s work hangs in a gallery the artist’s integrity is compromised individuality becomes commodity typically people who buy paintings have so much money they scatter a trifle on art the artwork provides the consumer with a look of ‘soul’ to be shown off to their envious friends the artist becomes needy pet of dealer and client maybe converting one’s spirituality into commercial merchandise is like making deals with the devil he thinks about Native American artists whose work is immediately esteemed and utilized in their culture he has spent his whole life seeking validation in art world he wonders how many other unknown artists feel similarly useless discarded he considers i’m forty-five years old now and i don’t have a penny to show for all my troubles i still believe i have much to give insights to reveal but no practical plan for survival i don’t know how i’m going to get through this existence the world wants young promising talent not some older painter striving for another chance women want nothing to do with an impoverished aging dreamer my dog loves me she knows who feeds her i’ve got academic degrees a long resume of legitimate shows i know how to use a computer solve problems fix toilets sinks strip and paint serve food and liquor but i can’t land a decent job i never learned how to properly market or barter my work and i’m not interested in the position of sacrificial lamb i want a home and female partner like other men have i want to be needed respected loved a creative member of a community instead of an expendable outsider working menial jobs for minimum wage what good are paintings if no one looks at them what good are noble values in a corrupt society the world runs on money and greed not freedom and love
elemental
i am water
no shape of my own
you cant hold me
until
im frozen
solid hard distant Full Story
Touch on Everything
No sense of anything, still I remain sane.
Lost for words yet I speak, my future’s fortune, hopelessly bleak.
What do I say when asking God, to help His son, His bastard child.
Who do I ask in reality, when my own voodoo bites back at me.
Most importantly, while hoes contorting me, I’ll have a look.
Within myself for me, not wealth.
This is real, what you’ve been dealt.
It’ll blow you up like you’ve never felt.
Fuck the world and the world to come, that is it I’m fucking done.
His Fellow Man
A sharp sting, screaming violent voices all came down around him. He clutched his chest! He had been
shot! He dropped to the ground!.. His thoughts burned in his mind with contempt, bolting his mind into reality.
He was dying and he could do nothing to reach anyone for help. There were two bodies sprawled on the
ground in front of him. One other lay along his side. How many of his relatives had suffered this devastating
demise? Why did he believe tactics for their last chance of survival was to be restrained in a damp and musty
hole in the ground? Was this not supposed to save them?
Time, what length of time did it take? Would it ever be resolved and by whom, that these human forms died
so needlessly, as did so many others? They had already suffered, before passing into the place called peace.
They waited patiently for the moment of escape into a safe and better world that was steadily being destroyed
by man. What was Heaven? He was positive it was better than this.
He was content, only with the fact, that he was the last to remain alive. Scant time left for confirming this
reality. He was truly thankful that the woman he loved so dearly had preceded him in death by minutes. Her
suffering was ended. The two innocent, physically healthy children that lay so still on the brown, dusty ground
yet not a breath of life between them. All were a fun-loving family. They understood, only too well, death could
befall them. The eminent danger and the possible lack of a full future life, Why was this? It was because of the
invasion warnings that came from the newspapers, television and radio. The last few months all had been
deluged with references about invaders. Their fears everyday were magnified.
Oh, yes, he was their leader, a thoughtful, modest, intelligent business man. Most of all the Father and
protector of this close-knit family. He could barely see now, through the mist of his pain, the form of the woman
he so proudly lived with and loved. He longed to reach out and touch her body. She was still warm. He lie
motionless with no real desire. to increase his discomfort and his own mental and physical pain. Nor did he
try. Many more favorable memories flashed through his mind. It brought a piercing smile to his lips.
Lenny, his lovely daughter, a tomboy. Her given name was Arlene. It did not fully describe her. Her boyish
personality hid all her feminine attributes. She was only fifteen. So naive, but ready to accept the threats
connected with the so-called forthcoming invasion. To gain her survival, she had suffered along with the
restrictions. Fourteen Days. They all had endured a drastic life change and terrible confinement.
Duck, his delightful son, lie, as if asleep on a bed for an afternoon nap. His left hand over his head. His
cheek resting on the cold wet ground. Small in stature, but a big man at heart. He too had already
experienced life, laughter, sorrow and strict confinement. This all within his seven years.
Breathing was becoming more difficult. Time was now a matter of minutes to remain conscious. Lost of any
new societies of man. He and his family. All gone. It was ironical, after all those days of restraint. The suffering
of all the discomforts of the dark room, the hiding, confined to a point of mental breaking in that stinking bunker,
only to come out of the ground, sprouting like a tree in the spring, vital and enthusiastic to have life begin
again, wandering for a mile or more among the dead and debris, to look upon who they knew as their fellow
man. They did not recognize the family. Their voices, in perfect unison pelted his ears, “Shoot them, kill them,
they are the invaders!”
THE END
By: D. Hassen
free as a bert
lone and dry.
like to kill my mocking AI flies.
whatever happened to the ‘touch’ ?
always made me feel so free
as a puppet on strings.
DISPOSSESSED AND DESTITUTE
The Day had dawned dark and cheerless. Some gray clouds threatened with unloading their fury on the city of Madrid, politically and socially convulsed by so much corruption and chaos. The traffic moved in both directions of the central street, too narrow with cars parked on both sides and some double parked, Full Story