n/a

The world is not a cold, dead place.

recently classic

"recently classic"

tiny universes

hang from the beads of

your necklace. playgrounds are empty

now and the children lay sleeping in

modest beds.

you can wear their masks.

over the arches

"over the arches"

stuttered gasps rise from

your lungs and seep into the walls.

each caress acting dually as a

step towards pleasure and

regret. my fingerprints leave

ruby paths across your body.

you are named after a flower;

(poetry in the making).

tracks and tracks

"tracks and tracks"

i've felt you deep in my bones. laughing

now, louder than before. your cracked feet

rest in a pan of steaming water.

over coffee there are words of productive

gardens and wooden homes. i close my eyes

and breathe in the cruel bloom.

whatever keeps you sane,

whatever keeps you satisfied.

fascination

"fascination"

you could grin at the faces i make
or wrap your fingers in mine

but you laugh in a peculiar way. your old
jeans with holes from the clumsiest moments
still hang from my bedside.

i just wish you knew.

after all

"after all..."

keep looking into mirrors, just waiting

for a companion's reflection to appear.

unpronounced words and promises trickle

from your lips and into hidden, shadowed

shoe boxes. when your fingers press

against the pen, do you feel close to dying?

from here you look like a fool.

hardly sleeping

"hardly sleeping"

next time you spread your wings to fly

remember that i told you about

birds in the sky.

little black flittering outlines diving through

chalky white, set ablaze in the spectrums of

radiant light.

n/a

Always starting over.

Just more excited each time.

dates

"dates"

each streetlight cluster forms a

makeshift constellation.

our breath is illuminated under

marquis lights.

all i know is what i wanted to say.

spring creek, nevada pt.2

"spring creek, nevada pt.2"

we were lost underneath the bridge. spared

the grief and drank cheap whiskey.

old habits

die hard. you used to dance that gypsy dance,

twist your fingers in pagan arches to wave me

in. now i

pity the invitation. i wondered if she'd pray

to God as she cleaned off her skin, if she

had the same broken nails when the

landlord came in. the rain exploded

across the rooftops and pedestrians;

i was pining for a desert baptism.

spring creek, nevada

"spring creek, nevada"

water drips from the tin roof houses and

spreads out upon the window sill. we saw

your mother crawling on the back porch

tracing the nails in the floorboards. more

at home in a wooden box, her movements

are more silent now.

hands together we walked out in the storm

making a break for the river. i spent time

digesting the lines of your legs, the

bend in your hips. our skin takes

the shape of an intimate secret.

n/a

Midwestern Black, soon to be a band.

State poem soon. Really soon.

n/a

Might or might not start a music blog. We'll see.

lapse

"lapse"

dogs with crooked teeth lick

their matted fur becoming intimate figures of

displaced harmony and pregnant dreams.

farmers attempt to disguise their transgressions

in honest work and poor brown soil. they stand

alone in the habit of summarizing years. time

slips between rough hands and rotting fields of

wheat.

departures

“departures”

dead fields of corn surround the city and

it takes time to rest your hands. winter

cold gripping the legs of teenage boys and

girls and tossing them into broken homes. old

grey skies mix the past, present, and future

into one cohesive display of

lifelessness. heroes with rifles and flags

rust on the outskirts of town. no one talks,

no one comes

out.

on occasion

“on occasion”

you and i sat under ballpark lights

calling each other by the names of

constellations. tracing cracks in

one another’s palms to predict the future.

we sat and drank the night, drove out

to a place where the sky met the hills.

in antique vineyards and summer

heat we hid from your father and heard

Coltrane songs on the radio.

your whispering

“your whispering”

spectrums of color fell from trees and

hurled themselves toward black soil, eager to be

buried. lovers held hands as shards of seasons

caressed the tops of their hands and feet. beauty revealed

in decaying stages; love unabashed.

hunger

“hunger”

rotting gold stalks of wheat collapsed

inward on

themselves. black raspberry kissed fingers

slowly traced the outline of scars along their

soft skin. cracked

toes followed the sanguine scent all

the way home and they held hands, laughing.

it made the blind hound walk the dust roads,

howling.

fifty three dollars

“fifty three dollars”

a miner’s son heard the whistle scream

within the summit pass. a coal smudged

vignette exhales dark

dust. on the horizon

pleas from the northern

wind and eastern

rain. green eyes to the thunderhead

that called him home ‘cross the crick

and through the thousand oaks.

a walk spent wondering who’d lay in

aching arms or fill his glass with

dime-store whiskey.

just running home

“just running home”

you smile back at faces in the

mirror. push

my fingers away from your cheek,

it was a miserable

close call. some women just file

out of their wedding

processions. if they all run for shelter

the rain may not come at all. let me

sign my name in black pen. i was

there when the car stopped at the

dead end.

coalville, iowa

"coalville, iowa"

explain the words
of locusts in southern air. pale
amber leaks in between branches

and clouds. black dogs eat bloody
meat, expressing little desire for a
new past time. weightless

patterned dresses covered in soot
race across the wheat field, attempting

feeble escape.

experience

"experience"

human drapery encompasses

each

pregnant moment. the subtle

curvature in knuckles and

vertebrae melt away in golden

light. elsewhere, young widows trace

aged scars without sentiment.

counter-posture

“counter-posture”

hands carried a dead cardinal stagnating in
alley water to bed sheets.

there is a human behind
that. our traits are

evident in the fluid
we spill.

oak tree tremors

"oak tree tremors"

watching the sunsets paint the sky you and i

still cold from last December. throw caution to the
wind and remember this was all for a reason. our hearts

beat strong and we pass the time as tumbleweeds. sunlight
keeps us intact when

our warm hands are not clasped together.

elevate

"elevate"

i am wrapped in a layer of red

rust. at the dawn's light my capillaries are mired
with white sand and shattered liquor bottles.

there is safety in the shadowed corners of a

room adorned with childhood antiques.

n/a

New poems coming soon.

September needs to end. October hurry up.

n/a

You can only despise things so long.

Then... you stop caring or cave in. Such is life.

n/a

I've considered writing more in this.

Consideration is a funny thing when all is said and done. It's just an another name for opinion. I keep listening to Sam Malone on repeat because it's a 4:43 summary of me (lately). I can't tell if my escapism is rooted in seasonal depression or in true desire. Probably some of both, to be honest.

The leaves just need to change their color and fall to the ground.

I keep trying to figure finances for next year in Bloomington. I haven't asked my grandfather for any money yet and probably won't bring it up until I figure as much out for myself as I can. I can't stay here though. There aren't enough opportunities for me to expand, South Bend is dead and so is everything around it. I'm not hoping for Bloomington to be the godsend I might portray it as, but I can't stay here.

In the end, I'm probably fucked.

n/a

Fall is coming soon.

I'd say I excited if I weren't so worried and pessimistic about things. I can already feel hints at seasonal depression and it's not even October yet. I get the feeling it's going to be a short fall and long winter.

I need to leave.

Everyone hates where they're from. I can't say I've met a single person who's completely content with where they live. It's a constant cycle of trying to find a balance between escapism and contentment. This is a game that I no longer want to play. I want to create my own roots and beauty elsewhere.

I need to leave as soon as possible.

tell me

"tell me"

sunlight

exhumes broken glass in the sand. young

men race across it on a brother's

dare. an invincible

smirk painted across each of their faces. cuts

and bruises were stories. they hung their

heads under a silver moon at the

edge of the boardwalk.

burns harbor, indiana

"burns harbor, indiana"

place the weight on cardinal's wings and
watch it shudder beneath the burden. the morning
light catches on the figure of

two boys hunched over a crimson corpse. when

they sleep the sinking feeling lays heavy in their
stomachs. boys wake up and breathe, their minds

bleed out the pain of beauty collapsed.

day-trotter

"day-trotter"

God waited in the pasture as

thunderheads painted

the spectrum of grey.

he knelt as the downpour washed his body of

inevitable guilt. creation

had plunged a dagger into his spine. man's

deliverance died weeping in a

hushed voice.

days and heart's desire

"days and heart's desire"

in meadows there were children laying on

flowers. insects crawled on their legs and

faces to accent the freckles and

the scars.

radiant boys don't remain silent. they live together

and die alone.

between breaths the insects sing

and crescendo in sync with the hymns of the girls.

it was a

midwestern symphony.

n/a

"The worst part is knowing that there is goodness in people. Mostly it stays deep down and buried. Maybe we don't have God because we're scared of the bad stuff. Maybe we're really scared of the good stuff. Because if there's no God, well, that means it's inside of us and we could be good all the time if we wanted. So when we do bad things, it'd be because we want to or because we have to. Or maybe we just need the bad stuff to remind us what the good stuff is in the first place. "

Constant reminders that things can always become better. Keeping my head up.

volumes

"volumes"

pearly white teeth smile up at me from

piles of rotting leaves. there are copper eyes that i

cannot stare into. this was a

secret pact.

written in the dirt and mud of September

on the walls of October and November.

n/a

The summer is over.

Tomorrow begins work in the Indiana University Library. I have to be up before eleven for the first time in three months. Something about this seems vastly cruel though it is a minor issue in the spectrum of things. I keep examining events and people that I've encountered and dealt with for the past three months and realize that more than half of it I could have avoided. The other half I chose to be involved in and genuinely cared.

The truth is, I want to come out an be completely honest with each person I want nothing to do with. I want to tell them calmly and clearly that I want nothing to do with them any longer, give them my reason for this, and then emotionlessly walk away from them without animosity on either side. This is harsh and unfair, I'm aware. I'm not inhuman in saying most of this, but, for the most part I want to cleanse myself of all the loose ends in my life. This "social cleansing" would not result in me burning bridges with close friends, good friends, or acquaintances.

But of course, I talk about these things as if they were easy to do, or fair, or right, or necessary. Perhaps they are easy or necessary, but when I look at myself in the mirror and picture one of the people I want to cut away I can't seem to look them in the eyes. Maybe I'm doing things for the wrong reasons and getting rid of people who do truly care, or maybe I'm just building it all up in my mind.

This feeling/thought won't have a closure statement that's even slightly definitive or certain. David Bazan has the general idea:

"If you make a reference to some
trouble that you know
can it help you keep it under control?
Or should I really reconsider
my reason for going solo?"

into the ground

"into the ground"

cringe at the sight of a legless statue

or at the faceless paintings on church walls. it is

repetitious and endearing. lackadaisically moving

forward

while coal black dogs sniff trails of

fallen skin leading to your

doorstep.

golden hues flicker against

eyes and lips

of children that hold hands along the darkest

path in a forest. they grin and laugh. when you

collapse they will carry you home.

n/a

The United States of Leland is one of the most powerful films I've seen in the past year. If you know me at all, that's saying something. I'll leave it at that and let any of you who read this go out and find it yourselves. If you're discouraged or dislike it, please talk to me about it and give me a reason.

The message that's being conveyed to me by the world is: "Without the bad, the sweet just isn't as sweet."

Part of me understands this... and part of me hopes it isn't true. Time will tell. Run of the mill statements have a way of ingraining themselves in people and burrowing into their thoughts and actions.

Scared. That's what I am.

moments

"moments"

pointer finger forward, tracing

the horizon.

diving in shallow waters made

a loathsome past time. red

snakes and curls around her ankles and

pools long into the night, forming patterns

of failure. dawn breaks, there is a

lifeless marionette sprawled across an

umber shore. remaining life is found in

foam and waves.

underwood, north dakota

"underwood, north dakota"

some old men have burdened themselves with heavy

breath and sore palms. their past lives were

beautiful

and true.

hard to wake up now. sighing at the troubles a man goes through to keep his fingers

warm becomes regular.

women can see the working men climbing grey hills in

the rain and dodging nature's tears. holding their

firstborns. days are filled with the sound of

steel on steel.

n/a

New tattoo tomorrow, autumn leaves covering the top half of my right arm.

Poems coming soon, many ideas kicked around in my head. Keep your eyes peeled.

As for tonight, I celebrate my birthday.

n/a

I thought about writing something for most of the day today.

Nothing came of it, obviously, a few lines tinkered with in my head but nothing to sit and scribe. I hope to continue the State poems, probably doing one this week and another next (although my schedule becomes much busier in the coming weeks).

This week is eventful to say the least, and for that I am happy.

riding into oblivion

"riding into oblivion"

love lines in my palm remind me that my

future is

clouded. each scar is a storm.

my hands are merely instruments of the

weather.

we're not finished speaking out. we're taking back

our glory days. when all of the sleepers drift

away, i will let my tongue roll into verbatim.

clouds and mouths agape. eyes paving the way

to charcoal black roads and

midwestern sunsets.

plotting all along

"plotting all along"

all of the extension cords lead straight into

a golden chest. a conduit.

it opens

wide and speaks through the ages. it does

not tire. right foot forward he stumbles to

his feet and lands on the floor face down

gasping for air. neon purple and gold accent

the curling body. golden teeth cringe, sludge drips

from the eyes. there is perpetual sadness in the

sight of a machine. happy birthday.

album suggestions

albums to check out, for anyone searching for music:

frightened rabbit - the midnight organ fight (scottish folk)

placebo - battle for the sun (british alternative[?])

wayfarer - what we've become (Against Me! styled acoustic)

the summer we went west - following the holy moon goddess (dreary tunes)

jesu - why are we not perfect? (atmospheric ambient sludge)

those flow into and out of my playlist. Placebo is a long time favorite band, Frightened Rabbit i've recently discovered and highly recommend.

n/a

Knocked Up is playing behind me.

I'm anticipating Judd Apatow's newest film this weekend, Funny People, mostly because any film he directs somehow makes me view life in a lighter, happier way.

As it stands, I'm going crazy. Anxious about stupid things lately. I'll end up over in it a few days.

I might slow down on writing a little bit lately. Fort Towson was redone if you (readers, if I have any) noticed. Painting will probably be more of a focus but then again, I say these things today and tomorrow I could have a completely different attitude.

I'm just awkwardly ranting at this point, ouch.

fort towson, oklahoma

"fort towson, oklahoma"

breathing slower when the horizon was

painted in silence. that opal hue on the sky,

that whiskey courage. some men just cry

all

night

when it rains.

vultures flew above head in heart shaped

patterns. waiting for us to tear each other

into pieces. except men are

nothing more than antique paintings.

meaning

"meaning"

dolls are reminders of exquisite

concubines. red cheeks and porcelain skin. she

used to move across the room and ignite

herself. carefully,

as the embers cooled he would store the

ash in jars.

they remain sealed.

time gives him little hope of

a better past time.

n/a

people are asking for paintings, i am excited.

if this is a possible means to get my art out there in large amounts and have people ask about it, then i am very much happy to paint for anyone.

if YOU (the reader) might somehow be interested in a painting then you can message me on facebook (facebook.com/joshzoerner) and drop some specifics or if you don't care then that is quite alright as well. let me know a size as well and i will work to this specification. /end personal advertisement.

as far as writing goes, i am mulling over some ideas for poems in my head, also considering possible notions of publishing in the future (though, each time i think of this it seems incredibly arrogant to assume i could get published). later in the week another State poem should be done...i've had a few towns in mind for a while now.

...

before i go, some albums to look into:

j.tillman - cancer and delirium or year in the kingdom ---> dark southern acoustic tunes

frightened rabbit - daytrotter sessions ---> dreary acoustic tunes

narrows - s/t EP and new distances ---> botch's vocalist's new project, brooding hardcore

walter fitzsimmons - the sparrow and the crow ---> dreary folk/acoustic tunes

fall of efrafa - inle ---> atmospheric post rock, removed crust influences from this CD

extinguishing

"extinguishing"

sounds are getting louder. i must've looked

out of my bedroom window one

thousand times. i've heard noises in the

yard. perhaps it is

the lamb of god. a representation of

what i have been lacking for all of my years.

hands close the curtains without second

thought. dust in the room migrates toward

my eyes, nose, and mouth. laying contorted i

manage to lose myself in weightlessness.

wordless submission

represents the man on the bed.

______

just some experimentation. wrote on a whim, perhaps edited tomorrow, perhaps not. i suppose we shall see.

n/a

oddly enough, I have noticed the slightly growth in "n/a" blogs. I guess I should clarify that they are merely thoughts that cross my mind from day to day, or that have been sitting and brewing for a while.

sorry if they ever happen to offend, drive you away from me, or piss you off on a good day. most, I am assuming, are/were never meant for that.

...

"how cold can a heart become

before it crumbles or

decides to stay numb?"

-chuck ragan

box elder, montana

"box elder, montana"

children hung on fences of

antique wooden homes. tender

palms resting in another. trains rolled past.

crows flew over head, there

was wind from the south. foundations

shift when the weight snaps.

men lay sprawled across the soil, imitating

stringless marionettes in toy stores. burning timber

hid itself in noses of water carriers.

iron cast itself across the land, directing itself

in discordant inertia.

now the conductor clears his throat of smoke,

mountain peaks become his oratory walls.

n/a

if you do not own a copy/have not downloaded Defeater's CD "Travels" you are missing out on some great music. hardcore with a story and interesting musicianship, also a brief acoustic bit from the (no longer a) band Verse's singer. first CD and it's marvelous.

tellico plains, tennessee

"tellico plains, tennessee"

at the junction i

could hear whispering voices.

there is no time for you

and i.

hands and fingers tied together like a

timber hitch. we could never hold this

burden. gentle eyes flicker like silver in the

morning light. amber mixed in

warm cream. those same hands found you

in the moss and stone, bleeding.

grey highlands are timid when

they stretch their arms.

crows held my shoulders when i cried in the

shadows of pine. days pass and weeks pass. it

does

nothing.

after a slow walk to the chapel

stairs. there is judgement that could

set me free.

i say little

more than simple words.

necklaces

collaborative poem by vince bauters and josh zoerner

"necklace"

cold shoulders and hungry eyes, i

fit you back in recklessly, but i am

relentless.

i speak when spoken to.

you describe yourself as an animal

with spots on its skin, and i am

less impressed than i was hours ago.

these notions of

pursuit

give white

knuckle fever.

if i were to cleanse myself in

dark water the jaws of my mouth

would remain clenched, held still

i am a colorless moon setting.

fireplace

collaborative piece from vince bauters and josh zoerner

"fireplace"

i was sleeping in trying

to hide. it was

the only time

i was mismanaging

clinging to the sheet and

October light. Michigan rain held in the

screen and no appetite for

apples.

i could sit outside in the fog, watch

swans, but you would tell me to

come inside.

give a steady, white hand to the

child playing man near the river. and bring

us all into the same room

where dim lights reveal a

silent understanding of creating

one's swan song.

kids

"kids"

they see you in fields,

in the rotten leaves.

i watch you sink in.

...

just a little haiku, something full length soon. keep

your eyes

open.

n/a

new poetry "theme" being explored: small towns, their feel, and secrets.

little late to mention that, it seems.

...

i have so much to say, to everyone.

silver plume, colorado

"silver plume, colorado"

a glass on the oak table is filled

with dry whiskey. i move like a ghost

through this house, through these

walls.

i could've loved you.

if we could see ourselves in the blowing

dust, would our cheeks become rosy?

miners clutch shovels and

hammers. we have given so much,

so much blood, we should be kings.

from the doorway,

i heard you whisper

words

into the corners of the room.

i told you, "this will be the year that

kills us all."

bedford, pennsylvania

"bedford, pennsylvania"

the chipping sparrow are stirring; the snow geese

feel the water rise against their feet. Autumn

spends her time running from

December.

townsfolk are keeping the secrets of

their mothers and father. shame, and a

desperate feeling to fall asleep.

grandad's bones keeping creaking. he tells me

we deserve this. i am not worried,

the winter will pass and my hunger will

follow.

alias

"alias"

my mouth is open for all to

walk in and then stumble

right out. were you searching for

clarity?

this is like walking into your closet

finding that the skeletons have

started talking.

the darkness under my eyes

grows. my ship is sinking, i am

buried in the world, in the secrets,

and the earth.

i wake up each day and hear the bones

chattering, "excite me, we don't need connection

at all."

tides

"tides"

we are exposed to one another

more clearly.

but hopes and dreams are an ocean's

tide. rising and falling motion with the

pull of cosmic forces. but

there is no divinity in this.

Gods' hands will not save me

(or cleanse me).

i am swimming to nothing

and crushing under the weight

of these waves.

give me a reason not to

die in these waves.

n/a

i'm tired, in so

many ways.

note: much to do.

mountains

"mountains"

we never slept much; there

was a static that kept us

awake.

god damn. 

i stumble downstairs and

everything is changed. we used

to be climbing mountains 

together

we made a promise, signed it in 

blood. always falling down, i get

so tired. jeff used to say, 

"rock bottom is a beautiful start.

we're rising up to show the world our scars,
from a former life that we'd rather not hide."

jaw

"jaw"

the scent of

withered leaves was

infectious.

seasons lay shattered at the edge 

of town. August and September cradled

like lovers fallen from windows; remnants

of an intimate suicide.

his breath stagnated as the sun rose

and fell. hidden in chrysanthemums 

collapsed in lilac

under emptiness while his

heart drifted outward moving

deep into the trees.

n/a

writer's block currently, seems like we've all got a case of it. i decided to write down some of the lines i've been thinking of or lines that have inspired me in some form so i do not lose track. 

as for now, i'm going to continue enjoying ghostbusters 2. 

content:

"i have never seen a dog with crooked teeth"

"earth and stone"

"blanket of august"

orate

"orate"

you are

in this sunlight

hypnotized. i 

dive 

into the flood. still 

resilient.

note: bloc party, good band still to this day. 

treading

"treading"

i have spent days crowning

cancers and healing the sick. life

is like a morning fog.

note: perhaps rebirth is possible in life and after.

i'm tired of people preaching disaster, it's just getting repetitious in the worst kind of way. these things had once been interesting to me but not so much any more. it seems everyone is looking for a way out of this world and into a higher plane. approach this notion with doubt, for your own good. 

be "reasonable".

waking, dreaming

"waking, dreaming"

destruction, keeps me around

the weight of transgression

eyes get heavy, and words twisted.

gold

replaced with a veil of red rust.

speak louder, maybe they can hear us

beg and plead. but it's so much simpler when

i can't hear it. i'm not sorry, it's reassuring.

maybe this is ascension, 

you are inspiration

without discretion. 

note: watched meet joe black in the first time in a long time today, good film. changed my outlook on many things. quote:

Love is passion, obsession, someone you can't live without. If you don't start with that, what are you going to end up with? Fall head over heels. I say find someone you can love like crazy and who'll love you the same way back. And how do you find him? Forget your head and listen to your heart. I'm not hearing any heart. Run the risk, if you get hurt, you'll come back. Because, the truth is there is no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love - well, you haven't lived a life at all. You have to try. Because if you haven't tried, you haven't lived. 

so do you

"so do you"

you can
lose yourself
and i can
act as a beacon.

lost or together; we
are still bonded

i know what a lion is.

start speeding

"start speeding"

stars streak the sky and we
are speeding.
if you lost control, the impact
would take us furthest from truth.

my blood is lukewarm
and yours starts to slow with age.
i came carrying flowers
but,

i did not put on my funeral
face this morning.

someone's spark

"someone's spark"

simple and white, i worship
the ethereal glow that your
heels leave behind.

winter is getting cold and
the night covers trees in
blankets of ink.

you can hear the simplest songs. they
have been sung for years
and years.

voices may entwine, but only for a moment.

lazy

"lazy"

we unwind from our skin
so easily.

sunlight carries in hope, while the
days and nights leave us stirring
like an autumnal breeze.

numbered

"numbered"

each digit on our body
is carefully numbered
three four
five.

we take our lovers quietly
and often are left with
memories and postcards that
intricately cloud our thoughts.

hearts weigh so heavily around
our necks.

jumbled

"jumbled"

you wouldn't believe how
many times i've spelled my name
wrong.

black ink, shreds identity
and causes the memory to flicker
for a single second.

a child's first breathe
on his final day is
more
comfortable than this.

obscure

"obscure"

there is some
thing
deeper than my soul that
comes and
goes. all the same.

gold encases my veins,
Midas would be proud.
but all worth is not
measured.
nor is it
weighed.

controlling aspects of
lips and bent mouths
is more of,
what i'm after.

(no subject)

what are you waiting for?

a simple answer, would be great.








until then, i'll be sitting in the sunlight and in the grass, barefoot and waiting for you. i know you'll come around.

you think...

"you think..."

keep your chin up,
young hopeless.
you can place the pieces back
together if,
only you'd try.

hailstorm

"hailstorm"

i find myself, in
pain.
the severity of this weather has left me,
thinking that
the cost of one person is another.

ice strikes my cheeks and shoulders and i swear,
this is part of the plan.
spoken word becomes a conviction
that some can't keep.

grey crunches under my feet,
i move uphill-
to watch the city below

crumble

into midwestern black.

tidewalker

"tidewalker"

you look to me with a slight grin
as if you knew what you were tempting.
shivers crawl through each
capillary of
your body.

i can glance at the same image
and find beauty,
you look quietly for dysfunction.

when i reached for your hand you
moved nearer.

you opened your wordless mouth
and
swallowed me whole.




note: i need to travel somewhere soon.

harbinger

"harbinger"

my mouth opens as if to apologize
but i cannot speak, rivers and streams of
fire flow from my lips and into
the world that i did not create.

the cinders fall like snow.

and i ran like a dog in the dark
hiding silently under the trees.







*edited by Vince Bauters.

white sand

"white sand"

walking on the beach
caressing your hands in the glow of the moon
it's funny
how you seem to shiver when the waves
crash on the shore.

i throw a stick into the black and silver
water, and you laugh
thoughtlessly, quietly.
you touch the small of my back so
lightly that i don't notice.

i wish you knew,
wish i could tell you that i had better intentions
you're like porcelain, carved and perfect.
china

white

modern art, all alone.

i want to lay you down. fill your veins and heart
with white sand
send you off to sea-

so you remain a sunken effigy.

just joking

"just joking"

at night we glance at one another,
though curtains.
you try to hide in your eyes, but
they're transparent.

in the window, you move like a ghost
and i watch, hoping that one feeling will
make you materialize into something
more physical.

wind catches me off guard and i swore
that you'd blow away
from me.

and you did.

resist

"resist"

the shed's light is still on
from
the night before when you
led me out there
to glimpse at your new
flowers.

i remember thinking that
this was all one big game,
one i couldn't win.
pretending sometimes, i'd run my fingers
through your hair
and
other times i'd watch you
dance.

usually i prefer people with a certain
flare, but i watch you and see how
pathetic things can truly get.

and i think to myself,
no love can save me.

postman and sophia

"postman and sophia"

at night, i wish i'd had someone to cover me up
someone to do it over and over again
but it'd get boring.

he mentioned that soon it'd be summertime
but everything reminds me of winter
i knew that you would come,
welcome to this kingdom.

i nestle in pain.

unknown

"unknown"

tonight, you will see the stars
and they'll hang and look as meaningless
as you'd hope i'd be.
i think it's the seizures.

the liquid in my skin shifts with
an inviting cold.
i look down, and separate the ground
and find hands of angels and
fists of lost lovers.

they're sleeping right
below you
and it's okay
because i know you've felt
this way before.

it's a long way down, deeper below
the words spoken mean
more than the things we say.

don't wake me up, just let the light
stretch across my face.

i heard there's a party...

"i heard there's a party"

we walk alone, words tired behind our eyes
shivering, often near you, cold breath
lurks into the cold.

cords around our necks,
you said we'd never last.
time will prove you wrong.
so much time, have i held this in:
i have never claimed to have a heart
of gold.

i'd suffer out loud but no one would care enough to listen
but i prove to my head that my heart still beats
and sometimes it's harder than you think,
so beat some life back into me.

pretty face

"pretty face"

maybe the bombs look better from
where you're standing
sometimes i wonder what you're
waiting for.

your decision to stay makes me think
that this is all one big game
tell me, who's pieces fall first?

your make up isn't war paint,
your polished words still don't get you
what you want.

there are no students, only victims
and i am taking them and
making them wear lab coats
to let them dissect your presence-
ultimate degradation.

the witches

"the witches"

don't catch fire, can you
make pictures
with your fingers?

there's no gravity and,
we can't hold our stomachs
sometimes the trees smell like skin
and fires burn.

they said, "carpenters tell stories"
but we nail them down.
it's too late and we've been
fucked from front to back

skies above are closed,
i forget names when we shake hands
i'm leaving everything behind
just like the wind.

hide away

"hide away"

when the summer comes,
hide behind your trees
and i'll play along
over and over
buried in crimson,
or clover.

time can pass,
and so will you,
we'll all be caving in too.

the dirt stain on your hands
are not as permanent as you'd like to think
and someday, you will finally see
darkness means nothing
when you dwell inside my head.

summer ends, and all your trees
end up on fire.

run away

"run away"

go ahead and play your games
i know it hurts
the sounds
of passion, are less endearing
than i'd have guessed

each time you bat your lashes
i expect hailstorms
and broken glass,
the scars you pass on
seem to hurt less when the sun's down

we will suffocate underneath your rains
and i remain hopeful
with the sweeping winds
and the burning trees
at the end of summer
you'll be revealed.

past/present

"past"

and there we were
reckless and all knowing
on the edge
of summer

the days passed
and so did we, sometimes
some of us came and went
and did it all over again
but that's how it goes

you remember the days, under the patio
the fires we made and the promises kept
we fade fast into the second winds
and remain ingrained in etched stone

_____

"present"

all the time gone by has left
us separate,
distant
from where we once stood.

the spring was meant for better things,
they say
i am worlds apart, and you are just as
distant from,
me.

our hopes remain as sincere as they
once were
this time we're stuck in a light storm
that blinds us.

our words always shake hands,
sometimes they mean it.

stages

"stages"

plates of food in front of us make
us gag at the prospect of health
the colors are vibrant, relentless
but we are far less interesting

weeping and fighting can do us no good
we are drowned in the petty, weightless
things. icicles form on your lips
and i am barely stirring a breeze.

charade

"charade"

pick the poison, and pour yourself a glass
these mistakes are just a part of the rest
each broken sound that hangs from your
lips and rises into my ears just makes me
linger on those nostalgic thoughts.

winter's passing hasn't done anything
to fuel a revival, this has never been where
i have wanted to start anew. i am blessed
with misfortune and i wait, and i will wait.
endlessly.


______

"love maker"

clouds hover from my mouth and enter
through your lips
and there is little
i can do to change what has become
of you

the storms may end, the crosses might stand
still at the end of the night
but you still lie in regret
and i hold you in the deepest haven
of my heart

the rain might wash away the blood
but the scent of you lingers
concerns of what is have now become what was
certain alibis, are better left unsaid

settlers

"settlers"

breeze can enter your head and
tie all the lose ends together
even in the night.

there's a heart in the unknown
and it's calling, and inviting you
and i to join.

set fireflies free and clear your head
and hold your head high, slow your
heavy heart.

lay the past to rest and raise you hands,
let the winds and heat hold you tight.

feeble

"feeble"

rejoice, standing strong, still thundering onward.

but something in your eyes says "i don't know"

place your hands into

piles of leaves and, remember

this is your creation, this hollow bastion

a place where love can be sent on owl's wings.

we can speak or be spoken to

and

this is what we have left each other with

autumnal leaves and withering branches

that resemble the brown above your palms

or the grey that hid under your

eyes.

i wonder if you can see me, quietly hidden away.

fish hook

"fishhook"

the things you say with absence in mind
remind me of the horrors that the past
lovers had held close to them once upon a
time, time is all we have but nothing.
we can examine the simple things without detail,
often though, we claim to see.
the hope to fully understand is lost
in something as honest as a Texas sunset

my soul is an abacus.

---

dreary eyes.

waste your time with me,
come down, down to the sea
i can wait with my hands at my sides
down deep into the sand and dirt
my fingers become extensions of my mortality
and seep into and out of the earthen glove,
they are roots, roots beneath ideals.

if you looked upon me now, there's nothing at all-
a face with blurred features
and cracked lips that serve as indentured servants do.
time has placed a price tag on me and
sold me to reckless abandonment.

come down, down to the sea
i can wait with my body curled up tight
frozen and eclipsed by time
thoughts cannot shift from synapse to synapse
without brushing a transgression.
my roots run deep.

_______________

EDIT:

Dreary Eyes

Come down, down to the sea.
i can wait with my body

curled up tight, eclipsed
by time. Down deep in sand and dirt. Thoughts cannot shift from synapse to synapse without brushing

a transgression. If you looked

upon me now, my fingers

would run out of their earthen glove.

________________

edited and reworked by vince bauters.

________________


just a new piece before bed.
hopefully it is enjoyable.
also... feel free to post comments
whoever takes time to read this.

souls.

"souls"

each field of value retreats
into the spectrum and falls
happily into a world of lesser,
more jaundiced touch.

footsteps become slight
and weightless at this
point in time and space
is not even relevant to
the people we have yet
to become when the
sleeping sickness lets go
of our throats and leads
us along into death.

come around.

"october surprise"

honor is like the hawk,
sometimes it must go hooded.
the orange lights reminds me of the pumpkins
i used to carve. the silhouetted faces turn back
at me and nod. light begins to retake its straight arrow form
and that's when i feel it.

the soft glow. caress my pupils and the dilation makes my
heart beat
that much faster.

the sky is burning.
just like old times,
i dip my fingers in the cold water,
mortality, the venom embrace
the scent drifts into my nose,
it is followed by the smell of her neck
and the hair the that lies on her spine.

she says: "not now, i wanna fight fair."


_____________

"whispers"


the night often wanders alone,
the day has left as soon as it feels unwanted.
"a dreary blanket" they say.

sometimes they speak too much.

curiosity paralleled in madness, each
stuttered word and faint heartbeat proves
my point. two clasped hands bound in plaster
our statue overlooks the ghosts we left,
near the ocean - we reside.

the night often speaks and the days pushes
its hands to its ears. it flees in silent submission.
"pieces of an antique wedding dress light the
sky" they said.

sometimes they speak too much.

the truth is that we can never
fall this far. the beauty and grace
is painted on alley walls
in broken bottle towns.
they only protagonist we can
agree on is hope.

sometimes they visit us near the sea,
carving out their names in the sand with
sad faces. though we are forever bound,
our dreams can set us free.

_____________

years.

"handle"

she walks towards a ghost and

grips her fingers around a transparent screen,

a rush, an exciting carcinogen crush

exhale into the chemical night

amongst the human surplus she

is singular.

_______

"kicker"

smooth feathers trace the curves in your skin,

you're the kind of girl to click your heels when things get hard.

when i leave, you're still pecking at my shoulder- bloodletting.

you pass the doorway and i hide from your soft features. your hair

it frizzles under pressure like old wires on a breaker box. i am no

electrician.

_______

"monochrome"

a neutral body injected with iron, imagine

dark grey earth, somber antics. swollen skin.

aluminum pavement, the heels click to a

one-two, the cracks around her face break into

an organic pit. an awkward notion. and misplaced

words.

the baggy skin hangs from her face. poignant and disheartening,

her knuckles are pyramids without past or future. they caress my neck,

nothing seems to register.

she walks under hanging lights on the outskirts of plastic toy homes,

and i look over my shoulder. empty town. the face of love, but time often runs

out.

there is nothing after this.

_______

three new, separate pieces.

thought about doing something in continuity or to a structure, but i haven't decided on what yet. we'll see.

lemon flavor

---

i could be nothing

---

if we charged any more for coffee...

"charged"

you need some form of introspection
i brush over your cheeks with my hands hoping,
for a day when the cracks in your lips will
be cleaned by the water.

something in you stirs and i notice,
i might fail to act if you hesitate any longer
but, that is the story of you and i
want and want not.

witness

"witness"

a thousand grains of sand perpetuate notions of
infidelities laced with grimaced words and fractures of
dreams that i once had in the nights, the Lebanese nights
you think i am one, but i am two, sometimes three
just clasp your hand in mine, and slow your breathing of
this oxygen that seeps into your lungs you're so hollow.

oncology.

"oncology"

hammer down your hands on the wooden table,
sometimes we make ourselves a
stylized burn onto something natural
naturally alluring, concurring, reassuring.

the dead and divine make time,
so why can't i? they shoes trace the
paths of all the old soldiers
we're regressionists, expelled
into arduous galore.

by trade

i probably won't get a chance to write later since i'll have work and not want to do more than come home and shower. i figured i'd write now (right now) and have an entry for the day, which, is what i'm going for.

so, i wrote some piece last night before bed.

"haze"

eyes deceived, i don't care what's true

i don't care what,

you hold in your hands.

i'm not interested in the fingertips-

the exposed marrow

i am ruthless, i am wrong.

i'd tell you to find me,

but my intentions aren't

what you're hoping for.

you're lucky no one knows me at all

i am breathless, fleeting and raw.

so meet me in the smoke house,

with the leaves in your hair.

...

honestly, it's nothing i am proud of. everything i end up writing is some oddly abstract piece without care or structure to poetic devices or lyrical flow. if it ends up as either one, it is merely by chance. oh well though, i don't really write for the hope of doing anything with it. it is just some ventilation of ideas through fingertips and plastic keys on an electrical board.

all i have to offer is my own confusion

"james madison"

striking rhetoric, plays pretty for a child
but constantly, we are laughing at the obvious
each simple mistake - a cry
a broken leg is a fortune
for those looking for the sky
often we fall-
only
to rise.

sprawl.

"sprawl"

sometimes, you move like a ghost through my fingers
other days, i feel you so clearly
i want to touch each section of your body
and make note of every searing pain

emerald st.

---

hey damage.

"damaged"

you are, only alone
i am, so alive with green eyes and cut fingers
my breath slips between your lips and your nostrils
everything is clouded in a fall of troy sense of desire
there is nowhere you can turn. somber, i wait,
i know that the broken sticks will lead you
to the place you called home.

first post.

So I pretty much made this for whatever I want to do with it.

Might host some tunes, pictures, rant, explain my life or views, whatever.

I'm not going to hype it since I have no idea where it'll end up.

That's fair?

Anyway, I think in addition to this, I need a new photobucket account since I forgot my last one's login name and password. I'm on facebook, if you want to find me there, but I use it 2-3 times a week at most, so I'm not consistent.

Ehhhhhhh....

I'm 18, I have no clue where I'm going in my life and I'm okay with that.

For now... I'm going to scoot on out of here, if I stay, I'll rant and I hate thinking of where that could go.