Sunday, January 31, 2010

school shooting, keylatch kids, memory association in weather patterns.

masticate:

pontificate with dexterity 
graphic slur, finger crosses, neonate of earth's lava
protection and flesh
holy stigmata
grey sky days at 2 pm and a spring breeze, rainy and cold
Grata Recordatio
clouds sweat above midwestern highschool on a tuesday.
oh lord,  waves broke of red, against lockers and recede around head
and from like cavern's end
long coats, metal seashells
the tv's on.
grown up to enough to see the irony of smoking in bed inside your mom's house.
a tiny fur child licking ceruse off the walls,
school shooting, immaculate wounds flushed out in precision.
whoever is out in the kitchen, they're doing the dishes.
the church don't comment
the black shrouds are dishonest
the police station is hung with christmas lights this time of year
well it's goddamn surely September , not surly December
but if you're coked out than you wont care.
don't believe in yourself
cause than it wont matter if you do it well
dont believe in sound
cause than there will never be nothin to write down.

aftertaste:

i was chased up to find an ashtray to put it all out in
i came into being when i found one
walkin down the illy lit street with your face
frozen to the ground, my thoughts glued below your waist
i said song names before the songs even played
you're eyes got fuzzy, i'm sure you thought it was date rape
but i put a flower in your hair.
tried to leave you, animals without tears
i walked further backwards from my friend's bathroom mirror
just to get from myself,
but now the pictures cluttered with me and everything else
white chipped walls, kitchen table, cluttered shelves

floss, books, midnight and whatever's in between
night caps, ramen, Warhole prints, and clean teeth
dirty towles, face lotion, geriatrics.
cracked face, first grey hair, heart attack, and prophylactics.
so i tried to escape you 
in different states and different perfumes 
how sentimental does someone have to be
to chase away all the things he wants to keep
i wanted to keep on if it wasnt for all of the police
i wanted to keep on if we weren't like migrate geese...

i think this city will eventually have its heart broke
disease and politics, take the grandsons they're bestowed
all to never  really have a happy life
so i smoke in bed for them cause they'd never try.

to get away with the things i get way with
i'll cheat my way through life, i dont really need to win.
just take what i'm given, a wooden stick to beat on,
find you water, touch, give birth to and lean on.

5 comments:

Eva said...

"clouds sweat above midwestern high school on a Tuesday." I loved this line. Still mulling over the rest. You say things in a way that sounds beautiful but confuses me at the same time. I enjoy reading the feeling of it.

jady said...

yeah.... thank you. much of what i do now is streaming thought but it is coherent in a way with subject matter though i know that will be vague to the reader. as is, what i am trying to do, like you said is create feeling through imagery and sometimes ambiguous subject matter that is just a mechanism for the reader to utilize in making there own story and feeling and picture.

Eva said...

You accomplish that very well. I always enjoy reading it to see what feeling it will draw from me.

Stephanie C said...

When I die, please write a eulogy for a stranger.

Eva said...

Hey, I have an award for you on my blog because you're awesome.