I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about bananas. My fingers are Santa's little helpers. My hope is a sporadic rainfall - yet a torrential downpour in all creative environments. I am Theseus, unspooling golden yarn. Sisyphus, sweating uphill. Bukowski, scribbling away in rooming houses. A river always flowing. I am the nightmare of stagnancy and a God of Imagination.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Shut Up Because I've Stopped Shutting Down. Shut Down Because I've Stopped Shutting Up...
I Can Hear You Talking About Me...
I care more about the next election stolen from me
children of mine that don't exist
broken hearts
and
unspoken conversations
the October wind tonight
curls up the corners of my mouth
and I'm hopeful
I know this
because
I know that
I'm not standing on my head
I can hear you talking about me
and please shut the fuck up
I say the same to myself
when I really dont know
what I'm talking about
which is often I've learned
shutupshutupthinkmorespeakless
there's nothing wrong with staying in your room
and being afraid to go out
you know where it comes from
you know what little moments in hours produce
1
or
2
moments of clarity
that help you get to step
3
or
4
there's nothing wrong with throwing yourself outside your house/heart
and not giving a fuck
you know where it comes from
but you know that Einstein's most famous formula had a lot of previous scribbled incarnations and that his crowning achievement equaled DESTRUCTION.
SO.
There's nothing wrong except what you'll make right.
Anti-
bomb
psalms
I am Einstein's mind
and my mistakes
reverse in.
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