Chicas | Hombres

the truth is not here  

we want to make sense of it all

our free being and free will 

our yearning for success  

whatever that means to us

and while we may achieve it 

it is not true

there is no true success

it is but a gruesome

and wonderful dream 

that we have made up for ourselves

it is real and not real

this is obvious

simple gibberish  

and while this is true  

the truth is still not here

the godless 

living neatly

deserve respect

because they

have no

end game .

2AM

out a dirty window


thin flowing thoughts
delusions of grandeur
realizing that i'm not
who i think i am


a thinking man
with words spilling out
but really
i should just 


SHUT MY MOUTH.

Creature Behind the Fridge

 

You grew from darkness

Round leather skin

Pierced by the pressure

Of your soft violet tentacles

Reaching up for anything

But the barren solitude 

Shared only by dust

And the hum of the refrigerator

collect from One A Days on Vimeo.

chatter with the desire to be wholesome matter

blue winter
you served me well            
i think most would agree
that you were brutal
this year
you kept me immobile
and indoors
glued to this screen
hammering out ideas
hammered in general
so i would like to thank you
and bid you farewell
may i not grow indigent
in spring
and later summer
when natural bodies
of frigid water
composed of your decomposition
completely engulf me
                                              
                                                                            

O N E  A  D A Y S


b a c k  i n  a c t i o n.


(nice work everyone)

I LOVE IT


IT'S REALLY GOOD


I LIKE IT


IT'S PRETTY NICE


IT'S DEFINITELY OK


IT'S OK


I'VE MADE WORSE


IT'S REALLY NOT THAT GOOD


I HATE IT

getting unstuck

sticky. stuck. gummy. drugged. exhaust. indecision. untrust. unworth. unwilling to take a chance. little nose pickers. beer. challenges. fuck it all. broken.

"i trust you"

water. bath. food. focus. wash hands. willing. dare. fuck it! loved. supported. safe. warm. happy. little angels. intent. risk. do. do. do. be. let live. breathe. challenges.

LAST DOOR ON THE LEFT

I watched my love hurt herself today...

...she fell out of a dumpster.

here i am

at another juncture

another decision point

stay or go?

stretch or observe?

sweat or sweat?

at another moment.

concentrate

decide

press the keys down lighter

my friend.

do i esit or dekete,,, oh ffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnn

edite or delete... or leave the mistakes as they are...

cherishing the imperfect me of 5 seconds ago.....

verses the perfect me of right now..

that can do it so much better than i ever could before...

i may as well just delete all my past....

and let it go...

oh

Weekly Challenge #3 -describing the undescribable.

For the Birds

I am the soil. Hummussy black, and soft as hell.  I lie under the vastness of the sky.  The light from the sun warms me.  I am free and without purpose.  One day two shadows fall over me.  Startled I feel the sudden shutter as their silhouettes unite.  From this union I feel an explosion of seeds pelt deep into my yielding surface.  Each freckle begins to burrow, supple wooden fingers penetrate my layers.  The days pass and both shadows continue to return.  They bring with them sensations unknown.  Tiny rivers cascade over me on a day with no rain.  On a new day my body is shaped and coddled by the pliable palms of my visitors.  My scars where the seeds grow are plucked clean of menacing flora and fauna.  Then morning comes and as the sun opens his warm eye on me, I am pulled out of myself.  First I am fearful, but here it is again, and again, until I have pierced the air above me with these pulpy thin hairs.  I have made color, and as the two return I cannot resist the urge to unfurl my newness with unknown ability.  In reverence, the tiny green sprouts that I have made reveal their pliable leaves, and reach up with earnest.  My new-fangled ability to create cannot explain to me why one day I am missing a shadow man.  I continue without him, to dwell on my happiness as these sprouts push into buds.  I am feeling more than I ever thought possible and still one single silhouette dedicates her presence to nurturing what I become.  Then one evening came without a passerby.  No comforting presence between the sun and I.  I waited with my stems standing tall, leaves outstretched as big as hands.  The pistils inside of me burned to get out.  In the eye of the morning I succumbed to the pressure.  Like flames leaping to life the petals spun from my buds.  Twisting and expanding, I opened up for all to see, colors unimaginably vivid. I reached up and out, but alas, no shadows did I see.  Once vacant soil, I had now fulfilled life from the gift they instilled within me. After many days of flourishing, my own flowers gave seed, but still no presence came to witness. Seasons changed and I felt the weight of my spectacle.  I crumbled into myself and held onto what I had created until it was absorbed.  My body hardened and I feared that I might never wake again. But after many months of rest, I softened in the presence of the sun and felt revived enough to start again. The sensations of growth still shook me even as I expected them this time.  And as I lay a righteous garden, wild and beautiful, for the viewing only of passing birds, I thought of them.

praise is the thief of knowledge

A+

What comes to mind?

 Perhaps perfection or an achievement of excellence

Something to attain

Words of congrats, feelings of superiority

Job well done.

I overheard a father at the table next to mine

Encouraging his teenage daughter on her test score

She boasted proudly

The school subject and the grade were all that were mentioned

And I couldn’t help but envision

Something more

Perhaps a daughter passionate to relive what she had learned

Her young eager voice sparking the air with fired synapses

The strength of her wit reborn in our ears

Not dead on arrival at A+

We are celebrated for this tiny proud letter adorned by a plus

And instead of thriving off of what we learn to warrant the symbol

We all too often leave the lesson by the wayside

And shuffle on dressed in only the praise

Our tiny egos pulsing and growing

While our minds scramble to retain

What a magnificent button
if only it existed
in my everyday life
I would never have to wonder
if what I said
was offensive
or stupid 
I would always have
the option
of erasing
my misguided speech...
Nah, fuck it
I said it
I meant it.
Now please delete.