the lack of direction
the lack of focus
the lack of meaning
the lack of answers
the lack of a definite timeline
the lack of vision
the lack of relationships
the lack of a good book to read
the lack of decent jazz
the lack of piano
the lack of meaningful information
the lack of stress
the lack of focus
the lack of direction
thelackofmeaning
third graders gather on the floor and ask about toilets and school uniforms in a land they cannot fathom and who am i to introduce them to it? i’ve brought pictures to say the things my words cannot, and speaking of eating dog, rabbit head, or pig lung, may inspire exactly the wrong kind of awe, i fear, but do my best as they gaze in bleary wonder knowing all this time one or two may be moved to drop their lives and leave a world where a child must have 100 crayons if they’re to be expected to color, where three simply would not do. sewage runs through streets in images i’ve taken of places where the scent overwhems any bad feeling one might have from the way things look, and it’s been five of my six months and all i can think of the whole time i’m showing these pictures is how much i miss home, and the “grind” and being on the winning team. to know the work i’m a part of ultimately wins when i feel like away, i’m more of a bump on a log than an addition to society, and snow is not near as romantic as i remember it, and consumerism literally makes me want to vomit in these cities where people are virtually strangling their children, choosing to suck the life out of them so they can have a swimming pool in their back yard, and while i’m not foolish enough to believe this is the case everywhere in this great country, i nonetheless catch a glimpse of the vastness of the nationwide epidemic as i get reports from the “bud light sports desk” during the “coors light half time show” where you spend the whole day in awe that infinite jest had this thing figured out years ago and it seems like only a few years ago i read that book (part of that book) and
laughed at the absurdity of the extremity of it all
i like woids
and the way they’re formed
with building blocks called
shletters
gwammer is awesome when proper
and in large blocks we complete
ideas in cent-instances
if we master the basics we’re given some freedom to destroy convention and set out on our own (or so they said in college)
so we form our own conjunctivitises like hithertothereforewithoutwhich
and stream together brilliance in zombie movels.
because our English linguine-age is incredi-malleable
we raise our noses and look down them at morons without.
it’s raining like crazy
and i’m not outside running
my feet are dry and my morale is sinking
the sun is rising and here i am
not out in the elements
rather i lay
on carpeted floor
my soul slowly withering
inside the quesadilla that is my is head and buttox
ford focused my three hour drive
from raleigh to graduation
now that’s master, twitch, master roger
(to you)
which, after much consideration, i’ve decided i prefer over double master rog
Ingredients:
Mixed grains, milled cane sugar, textured soy protein, french fried eyeballs swimming in a pool of blood, brown rice syrup, chicory root fiber, partially hydrogenated corn oil, and less than 2% of the following: elmer’s glue, stainless steel staples, gopher guts, tocopherols (vitamin E to maintain freshness)
I have a desire to maintain them like some do when playing Texas Hold Em
Or to fold them and/or let them give me another card and then increase the stakes (please don’t fold), I find this enjoyable
Both good fortune and a gut feeling guide me in my decision making process with my cards and frequently I choose to start with a Spade (Because I don’t really understand the game)
But then following obtaining the other’s heart as my own, through deception like in a card game, I will choose to play a card that he wants me to play.
Oh, Ooooh, Oooooo
I bet I can raise his temperature slightly, and demonstrate to him what is that I have
Oh, Ooooh, Oooooo
I bet I can raise his temperature slightly, and demonstrate to him what is that I have
You’ll find that you are unable to discern my, yea, you’re unable to discern my,
Yea, you find it difficult to discern my face which I am holding in an indiscernible way as in a game of cards
You’ll find that you are unable to discern my, yea, you’re unable to discern my,
Yea, you find it difficult to discern my face which I am holding in an indiscernible way as in a game of cards
(better when sung to the tune of “Oh Christmas Tree”)
if you are both happy and in addition to being happy you are also aware of it clap your hands
if you are both happy and in addition to being happy you are also aware of it clap your hands
if you are happy and also find that you yourself are aware of your happiness and you decide that you would like to also make the world aware of your current state of happiness
if you are both happy and in addition to being happy you are also aware of it clap your hands
but
a dog will die if left to it’s own devices
and a dog lacks the help of an army of
writers
and a dog
is not fed on poetry
however
it hurts like a dying dog
to be disconnected from a love of mine
like this pup
when i just want to rock and hold it
but i’m overwhelmed with life
(for the um…. 20th time three years)
children have a way of doing that
but if you hear it on the radio
then it must be true.
i think our belief what we read in
a book labelled “non-fiction” should
be taken at face value comes from our
judeo-christian roots where we accept
one book as true, therefore the others
but be as well.
what you read on twitter is probably
false, unless it concerns feces. afterall
who tweets about their poo unless they’re
telling the truth.
here’s where we miss the slacker. one timmy
mc-timster, a friend of mine in college
who took credit for everyman’s farts
and then he actually crop dusted and claimed
it as his own, the crowds didn’t believe him.
brilliance can become incarnate in so many
strange forms.
And other such adages such as how you can get
peanut butter in the jelly jar but you don’t want jelly in the peanut butter jar
most normal people
(when they’ve saved the money)
dont wrestle with wondering
if those who make his paycheck possible
will be offended by the purchase
most normal people
(when they’ve been given gift certificates)
dont wonder what it’ll be like to both ask for money for the adoption
and at the same time spend money
on an idevice
but then i’m reminded
most normal people
are downright weird when you get to know them.
and normal feels more and more subjective
and less and less feasable.
i find a lot of joy in my upgrade
from generation 1 to 5
my old one almost 4 years old.
no one keeps a phone that long.
*tear*
“I’m sorry siri, I’m so very very happy.”
tissues stack like a victim
of a cold by the bedside
computerside
and typing is met with dripping
is overwhelmed by bad media
driving you slowly into a downward
spiral of confusion into the depressed
state you used to know so well you
were afraid you’d never leave but then
you found help in the history of jazz a
class they told you would boost your self
confidence (if not your GPA) while
lulling you to sleep each night with free
music you’re forced to listen to for
a grade in a way ruining your favorite
genre
a genre you like to play background
music to by blowing your nose in
time with the beat of the bass drum while
the snare is hit repeatedly in form seldom
changing so the sax and the trumpet
can have their moments to shine in turn and
each moment that passes with a tissue
held to your face you realize your missed
dream of holding an instrument and this
cold presses in past your bones and
your heart itself begins to feel sick
as the tissues pile up slowly beside
your computer where you know you
should be doing work but your mind continues
to wander to worlds that could have been
but alas whatever good has come to you
that you imagined.
your fantasies have changed so much over
time you find yourself looking back and
thankful what you hoped for never came to pass
or else you’d be stuck with little susie whats
her face from from first grade, and you know that
while your dreams are bigger now you’ll still
look back someday thankful they were never
realized.
i grew me one long and sexy
but the wife
she disagrees
and now i stare down my
buzzer knowing what stands
between me and him is at least
six weeks.
but there are some powers
my wife maintains through
threats of witholding
things i don’t do well without.
she wins.
i’ll miss you my friend
you made me look pubescent
and then sort of kinda manly.
now you’ve grown long enough
to make me amish, or at least
a “fundamentalist”.
i knew thee far too little.
every moment of the regular season is spent in anticipation of the
final game of the post season
the final game (or series as the sport may call for) arrives
and we cower in the corner more comfortable in our
anticipation than our excitement at what has arrived
and like that loneliness we’ve come to love and mourn
(albiet briefly and irrationally)
when we marry
we miss the feeling we know more than we enjoy the
moment when it arrives.
in the great scheme two weeks is hardly
worthy of notice
in the six years of agony two weeks
is anything but
unworthy of notice
minute passes slower than each previous
minute
worthy of painful notice
my watch has received more “face time”
than my wife.
and she’s getting mad.
i figure when the hare
(running full speed towards the finish)
had the ribbon in his view,
he sped up saying to himself
“almost there, almost there, almost there”
and doing all he could to hang on
placed one foot in front of the next
and hoped for the best.
i identify in this stage
but beg the Lord when I cross
the line I will not find I’ve lost
the race to a stinky,
slow, slimy, animal who drags
his home with him wherever he goes.
i’d tell you more
but i assure you
my words are being nearly
sucked dry by vocations
i choose not, but choose me.
and thus i’m left
like a used rag — used.
and tired.
my fingers too empty
for any further verbal
diarrhea.
like an unplayed tebow
unsmoked cigarettes reach not
their potential
i wrote this in the margin
of the notes i was taking for class
i meant it be poetic
but instead it came out crass
the prof was speaking of revelation
and i was writing of poo
the writing was slightly distracting
and i failed to think his words through
so i kept on writing of feces
while the prof droned on over details
my mind downstairs in the restroom
where i planned to unloaded my entrails
with stacks and rows of words
bound with glue in glorious
long-form i sit and study being
mocked by the fact i’m still told
what to consume when deliciousness
surrounds me like a child in a candy
shop i’m handed a carrot and told
to eat while gazing with longing
at peach rings and runts
my computer open before me
and books written by fools with their
heads in the clouds but academic
degrees they fancy while in the
company of hemmingway and salinger
i drool, for, like that child, i know not
how to ignore exactly what i know i’m
missing
every day in this magnificent place
and i put on my shoes and took them off
and ran much too far in the rain
but how can i turn around when the
cold spatters against my face
and i know you’re doing it for me
(as vain as that sounds)
but i must keep running and enjoying your
joy and wondering of those who miss it
and pushing farther and farther knowing
every step forward means one step back
and ignoring it for 50 minutes or so
should a constipated man
finally poop in a forest
and if no one is around to hear/smell/experience it
does he feel relief?
i’ven’t a moment to reflect on the trees passing
by my window for merely keeping this thing on
the road is requiring all my focus. they’ve told
me the world at 300mph is fundamentally different
and i’m finding it’s even more complicated when
every moment the wheels, engine, or at least
air conditioning may give out due to lack of funds
for proper maintenance, and i know what passes
each moment is a travesty to have missed but the
finish line is in view, and if this thing can
hold it together just a little longer there’ll be
more than enough time to stop and smell the roses
for this thing will be put to rest. maintenance
no longer necessary as i’ll be mounting a two wheeled
man-powered beauty and cruising for the foreseeable
future
sometimes just to feel the life inside of me
i like to bust open the doors of the retirement home and
with my pants off i make a break for it in my chair
wheeling down the street in the snow i
slip and slide like a youth on drugs
except I’m old and on heart medication
but the wind is in my hair.
i pick up the phone and give it the old
english try
but there is something distinctly
un-english
about my bad english
my lack of manners
and general confusion about social
norms in the country i’m supposed to identify
with
because here the clouds nearly reflect the sunshine like the moon at night
the air is perfectly thin
and the grass,
the attitude
knowing why I left is not regretting.
but then, ignorance would be blissful
cue music
We’re on the high way to the danger zone.
We’re taking the exit to the danger zone.
We’re on a feeder road next to the highway to the danger zone.
Now we’re on a by way to the danger zone.
We’ve moved on to a cos-way to the danger zone.
We’re on the shortcut to the danger zoooooooooooone.
We’re on the county road to the danger zone.
Now we’re on the dirt road to the danger zone.
We’re almost there on a back road to the danger zooooooooone.
We’re on the driveway to the danger zone.
We’re now out of our car walking up to the danger zooooooooone.
We’re knocking on the door now to the danger zone.
We’re patiently waiting for the door to open to the danger zone.
i wander these woods looking for a tree
to mock nature in revenge for the many
times it’s merely cried with me
when i needed to be cheered up.
on that late night walk home
(already melancholy from a rough
and lonely day) nature gave me silencing
snow
enveloping the world in beauty but
giving me ear muffs and sending the world
inside as if to say, “you’re lonely?
i can dig that knife deeper for you.”
but now my life overwhelmed with joy,
i need me a weeping willow to sit beneath
and laugh hysterically at it, rather than it
at me.
alas nature knows my intentions and gives
me nothing but sunshine, tulips, and fields
of green grass where i swear there were
woods last year.
