8/17/18

Angelic Upstarts on the stereo
Steel toe boots all laced up and ready to go
Thirty-seven years old standing in the shadow
Of the last twenty-odd years
Stomping to the beat
Of leveling monuments built to misery
With the songs that taught us to spit blood
In the face of defeat
Ringing like thunder in our skulls

Watch your tears fall like rain
I swear I have lived this moment before
Raised the dawn through so many nights like this one
Wrapped up warm and safe with the sound
Breathing in the solace of the stereo
Bound as we are, always
“By six strings to this world”
Next to every single person
I ever loved

The stories we tell matched in their horror
Similar in scope
Touched as we are by the darkness
The people who raised us named love
We learned well to wear our scars

Rebel sounds on the stereo
Soundtrack to the world crashing down
Songs for all the inferno hearts
Caught in the conflagration
Buried in wreckage wrought by industry

I have learned the painful truth
There are vicious constants in this life
Cycles of history, repeating motifs, old ghosts
Wash, rinse, repeat, but never quite feel clean
Clean, like the breaks we always wanted

From the poisoned hands that
Shaped years weighed down by ruins
Are you angry?
Let’s get fucking angry
Just like we were when you
Were 14, 22, 37
The anger that comes with losing years
Locked away in dark rooms
Losing the battle with getting out of bed
Mourning every lost future
You never got to live

I want it all:
Unrepentant and violent
As I have ever been

I want to give myself
To fugitive time
I want to lose myself
To blood spilt nights
And a knife slipped
Between the ribs
Of every enemy
A boot stomping on the face
of every bad memory

I want the crashing noise
Distortion drenched and damaged
Freaks dancing in the night
Hanging on to one another
For life

Screaming out the sorrow
Rage bellowing forth
Life a river of ash
Coughed back up from
Lungs that breathe once again
Bodies rejecting the poison
Mended wings taking flight
From every house fire
We could never fight

(Sometimes you just gotta watch it burn)

I want you to heal
Like you mean it
Like your life depends on it
(Because it fucking does)
I want to watch you walk tall
So tall
Twelve feet tall
And drunk on the blood
Of everyone who ever meant you harm
Staggering through streets
Like they are yours to walk upon

I want to watch you thrive
I want to watch you grow
Old, sturdy, and wise
Stronger for every
Single scar you were
Ever made to wear

8/17/18

Two Day Romance, as the fires burn.

We sit beneath the yellow sky
At the edge of the water
I cough. We talk of loss
Dead love
Tales of hard lived histories
The day drags deliciously
We talk easily
Dancing like ripples on the surface
Of the water, speaking of sweeter things
I feel myself soften
Despite the claustrophobia
Closing in with the weight
Of what was once so many trees
Falling like a hard rain

I would like to invite you to spend the night
Together at the edge of this city
At the dark end of my dead end street
My time in this house
(Not quite a home)
Is winding down
Yet this space is a delight
To share with you all the same

All the trees seeped in smoke
Distorting their shapes
On the horizon
Against the haze
As if the mouth of hell opened wide
To cough out an apocalypse skyline
Crafted from ash and nightmare

Laughter fills the late hour
I find myself invigorated
Despite the taste of death and cancer
Crawling at the back of my throat
Catch my face in the bathroom mirror
Just as the world spins out
“Please, not now.”
We wonder why a hellish wind blows
(Except we don’t)
Burning cold through the nighttime window

Your sweat slick with the taste of want
Spread across my stomach
We melt
Howl
Into one another
Given fully to the frenzy and darkness
Of desire desperate against
The world as it burns around us

Two Day Romance, as the fires burn.

Proximities.

This is a blessing
For the bliss of
Breaking down
Breaking out
Letting go
Of love
(or closest proximities of)

Fond affections
Now disfigured
And distorted
Embers burn
Down to ashes scattered
Into the howling wind

What is a little bit of
Betrayal between friends anyway?
A glance over the shoulder, lamenting
How the worst enemies
Are always the ones
We know the most intimately

I propose a toast tonight
With a heart closed
And a raised fist clenched
Drink to your health
And the wealth
Of lessons learned
In blood sex
Promises half spoken
Unremembered and never meant

Viva love
(or closest proximities of)
And long live its death

Proximities.

Dream of apocalypse sex with apocalypse ex

A dream of you this morning
Three years on
Pressed against the wall
All filthy and tender
Open

We were never
Going to be anything like
The love of one another’s lives
Or grow old together
And that’s just fine

Because we both have known
That kind of love
Shakes you to your core
Pulls you out of your skin
To dance in your bones
The kind of love that
Will not let you settle for anything
Gets you fucking moving
And this, this just is.

An exercise in anything goes
An exercise in escaping emptiness
From one moment to the next
Running circular furrows in
All the same well tread paths
Until boots burn holes in our maps

In the afterglow
Beneath the flickering lights
Whisper your secret fears
Of the fire next time
Written into your genetic code
Whatever horror this world holds
You feel it coming for us
In your root of your soul

So here we are
All fucked up
Yet unbroken
Against the wall
In love and war
All at once now
For war
But never in love.

Dream of apocalypse sex with apocalypse ex

I fell in love and it scrambled my brain.

So I haven’t been writing as much. Still grinding away at this novel, but aside from that I mostly try and sit calmly with the present. For whatever reason, writing about the present has always proven difficult for me. It’s like I have a hard time articulating the significance of an event until after it’s time as has passed and I’ve had time to reflect. Maybe that’s why my first book is about a life lived two decades ago. I can tell you with absolute clarity what it was all for, and what it all meant.

The present… The Present feels jittery and electric, like I want to do a million things at once. Maybe that’s the strong cup of green tea and chronic lack of sleep talking though. Or maybe too much time researching bullshit on the internet is making me foggy before my years. I don’t know. I can’t think clearly right now. Maybe I should just be outside with my dog (The real love of my life.)

What I’m trying to articulate here, is what a joy it is to fall in love. I haven’t been in love in some years. Opening my heart to another has never been something I’ve done lightly, and rarely something I’ve given myself to fully. If we’re being real, I’ll one part blame on being socialized in a culture of toxic masculinity, one part mental illness and trauma, and the last part just kind of feeling like a whole lot of the people I encounter aren’t worth my vulnerability and authenticity anyway. People can be disingenuous and dishonorable shitbags. I see it on most of them, and keep my distance. People are also flawed and wounded and wonderful and most of us are doing the best we can. It’s the ones that use their hardships as an excuse to never grow or change that I can’t abide to share my time with.

Or people can’t handle my authenticity or vulnerability. That’s possible too. I think I encounter that one a lot. I don’t know. It’s difficult to be objective about yourself sometimes. I am more than aware of myself as a “difficult person”. I am painfully aware that I’m unlucky enough to experience the terrifying and joyous journey of life through a certain lens, and the world I see through that lens doesn’t always match with the world the people I love are seeing.

That is to say, trauma and mental illness done fucked up my perception of reality. I won’t make any apologies for how I experience the world, not like I wanna experience it in this way either. I’m real sorry for the vital connections it’s caused me to break over the years, most of them anyway.

Anyway… Love poem in progress. I think we’ll title it Janky Love Poem #1 because I’m feeling real sweet and vulnerable and clumsy right now. I don’t know if I’ve ever written something about a relationship while I was still in it.

Falling in
Falling away
From an idea of love cheapened
With plastic sentiment
Filled with impossible promises
Of a saccharine soaked forever
And sepia toned happily ever after
Accepting each imperfect
And impermanent moment

Making monuments from ruins
An idea of love
Falling like walls
Cracked open
Like precious stones
Once hidden in rubble

Falling in love like
Tearing lonely cynicism to shreds
For gentle whispers of
How the world is still worth fighting for
Four simple words to sink in
“Nihilism is so stupid”
It’s true.

That’s all. I’m going outside. Maybe I’ll work on this more later. Maybe I’ll leave it as it is, a clumsily sweet monument to the first tenuous steps of falling in love. Only time will tell. For now, I will enjoy this moment.

Thank you for reading. ❤

I fell in love and it scrambled my brain.

Punks is sharks.

Adrift and sinking, out where the horizon unfolds
Into rows of waves crashing down
Our lifeboats are full of holes
And someone threw away the oars
Our boats are taking on water now
As the lives and loves We forged sink below…

I just want a metaphor
For how we’re maybe out of our depth here
Where the water is deep and dark
Maybe we’re out of our depth here
And way out here there’s sharks.

Maps marked with blurred lines
and the last of a sky so blue
Just as summer gave way to fall
“You have to breathe. You have to breathe.”
Swallowing mouthfuls of air where the traffic snarls
Marveling at just how fucking ugly
Of a picture this world will paint you
Right as it runs you through

We’re out of our depth here
With blurred lines inked indelibly into skin
Too tender, too thin
Blurring the line again
Always between the intimate
And the violent
We’re out of our depth here
Because nothing prepared us for trespasses like this
Or taught us how to love without fear

The hour is now late
Ashore, annihilation comes home to call
With a knock knock knock at the door
Wolves hunger at the windows
Sharks circle the shallows
Murderers who murder each other
Set loose to stalk the halls

Punks is sharks.

In The Spirit Of Sound

Sound out lost youth
And dreams gone to dust
Shuddering, thundering frustration
Pulled screaming out of
Every last distorted chord
Scream it out, scream it out
Loss pouring from glass throats
Scream it out, scream it out
Every shadow that we hold
Every last cobweb from the corners

With quiet moments
Of cautious hope
Resounding triumph
And the joy we’ve lived
Or just a nights calm rest
Within a warm room
Or out to paint the town
(and ourselves)
Black and blue, but still true

This sound, the sound
Of breaking down
Breaking out
Paper cuts line tired, tired hands
Twenty years singing the same tune
And a movement for invisible truth
A lifetime of wearing wounds
Twenty years with the light creeping
Into the corners of a cold room

There is a light
Piercing through these miles of night
There is a light
And this time
We chose not to hide our eyes
Twenty years with beautiful noise
Coming from a crowded room
Twenty years breathing, moving, screaming
Living, always living
Every iota of us poured out
Into the spirit of sound

-2015

In The Spirit Of Sound