Occupy: first-ish thoughts

September 24, 2011

I’m consumed.  Everyone needs to know there’s a revolution at the doorstep, ringing the buzzer, trying to get us out of the house.  A house with repainted walls and boxed food that only takes a few seconds to heat then is gobbled down in front of plasma screens, showing court cases and hallow celebrities.  Media men discredit those picketers.  The one’s who’ve got nowhere to stand.  Always taught: “You can make a difference” and “You can accomplish anything you set your mind to”.


If you don’t mind, stop telling us we’re a disorganized lump of hippies beating on drums out of tune.


At least we’re beating.  A song will come in time, with a chorus of followers, evolving our forefathers’ demands.



September 1, 2011

A dream

perhaps a memory

what’s the difference

asking now


Silly questions broke

silence, resting

above the water

tires barrel through some other state


Every time it rains

in all directions,

blind sight and swollen

fingers guide the wheel,

space between the line

thud thud thuds

of reflectors met spun rubber


December 21, 2010 An Entry

December 21, 2010

Start: 1:10 am- December 21, 2010

I can’t express what I’m saying. I really just wish that someone understood me. I know that’s cliché, but it’s just how it is. I think everyone feels that way. I’m lost again. I keep using my first person pronoun. What is there really to write about?

Flocking between my limbs
I hear something new. Pleasant, but intimidating.
Every moment compressed to this exact configuration of space-time.
This feels uplifting, but nobody is watching. The blind eye infuses, dictated by physicality. Urgent to impress yet limited by doubt.

This may be considered cheating, but I love listening to music. Anything really. I’m forever restricted to an external environment.

Hear me! I want to touch an understanding of the sensations which is embodiment.
Trying to describe the perception constantly. A utility of and for experience. There isn’t a story to be told, but trust me; I realize an existence. It’s got to be heading somewhere.

I accept reality as truth.

June 24, 2010

June 24, 2010


Can drive any insane.

The ones that feel

What’s being written

I’m about this way

Too many words spoken

You know what I mean

Wordsworth and Keats,

Along with the rest.

Let’s stand on a mountain top,

Feel the fleeting whispers

Of agony just because

We can’t take the beauty of it all anymore.

You say that’s been done?

It has.

Does it mean it’s too late?

So then, we should jump.

Jump off the mountain top.

Oh, wait.

That’s been done before.


I’ve got the crazies.

I want to be,

And I’m not.






Modern experimentalISM

And everything that came before.

It’s no wonder,

My sheets are dirty

My head is cracking

And this

Comes out.

It keeps coming

Out of us all

Believe you me,

Better you document

December 29, 2008

December 29, 2008

December 29, 2008

We blow dry our hair at midnight

Trying to define what it is to define the definition of our condition.

Holy Communion doesn’t help much but we are relentless with our efforts.

Molded plastic and tinfoil make us giggle

In turn our efforts are forevermore futile.

So instead I have decided—

to write a story

A very long brooding story on how you look

At me and what I see

Because you know

a funny feeling              tells me I know better.

we  laugh at stream of consciences

No matter how despicable,

We all really do,

Say this or say

One day I will travel as far as you

can catch up.

I miss myself in you

I hope you can see that.

Making  visible isn’t  harder.          The hue fades

back to defining definitions

Naked, blow drying our hair in the dark.