for the chains i drag with me
September 30, 2008
i am so tired
of the trading of paper
and the loving of traitors
and the words that they staple
words oh so hateful
to the trees made of maple
ever so faithful
and i am so tired
of the silence pervasive
after the laughs have all faded
the glances we traded
i hope i can save it
wont try to escape it
or find love belated
and i am so tired
and probably always will be
for the chains i drag with me
The Masked Assassin
September 11, 2008
O Masked Assassin,
badass
bedbug-eater–
eat those fucking bastards,
beautiful black reduviid bugbeast.
Reduvius personatus–
so badass you need four names:
Fly Bug
Masked Hunter
Masked Bedbug Hunter
Masked Assassin.
Move in with me,
O Masked Hero Predator,
be my pet,
and quote the American soldiers in Vietnam
(you’ll be on the right side of history, darling):
Kill them all and let God sort them out.
“Jour de sacre pour le seigneur des anneaux de la physique des particules.”–Le Monde, Sept. 9
September 9, 2008
O sacred day for the lord of the rings of particle physics!
The French write the best leads.
September 10, 2008, physicists will turn on their universe-explaining machine!
The LHC!!!
Avec cette machine à fracasser…
with this machine to smash, to crash particles to pieces,
the physicists want to approach the conditions
that existed in the first instants of the universe,
just after the Big Bang–voilà 13.7 billion years!
Le temps retrouvé.
The German & the Finn
September 8, 2008
There lived a young man out in Munich.
His garment of choice was a tunic.
He married a Finn,
Who was filled with chagrin
Upon learning that he was a eunuch.
Because My Pizzle, A Sonnet Containing Some Alexandrines
August 27, 2008
Because my pizzle pounds the pavement, I keep it wrapped in gauze
to guard against unsightly cuts and bruises.
Women, when they see me, dispense with their bras.
The love, from them toward me, veritably oozes.
Men approach me slyly, my secret to inquire.
“It’s natural,” I say. “Could be my meatless diet.”
They all get mad and mean, curse me for a liar.
I hitch up my fire hose; they quickly go quiet.
My piz pounds the pavement, so I tape it to my thigh.
In my community, I’m a much-admired member.
The mayor claims my bounty stems from life a mile high.
A party, in my honor, is held each September.
Throw no undergarments at me if you see me on the street.
Remember–I, too, am mortal, human, with fragile feelings and flat and smelly feet.
of bullies, cronies, slaves, and friends
August 11, 2008
You are tough and strong
and possibly unbeatable,
and I might just hate you
despite my best efforts
and my best misgivings.
I’ve heard it said
that hate is just
the inverse of love
and while I’m drawn to
tear down misconceptions,
I tend to agree because I’ve
seen Smallville and Unbreakable.
And now, through thinking
analogously, I come
to the point and to the question:
Do I love you? (or) Do I hate you?
For there can be no in-between.
And while some may label my logic
a fallacious, false dilemma, I,
respectfully, disagree.
Returning to the analogues, you
are Ender, ripe with potential,
potentially holding the future
in your young but growing hands;
the strong respond in loving
confidence; the weak in fearful
violence, attempting to crush
before being crushed themselves,
yet Ender only crushed in self-defense.
So without the crushing weakness the
prospect of crushing destruction disappears;
if only I can be strong enough
to allow you to be strong, strong
enough to choose love, rejecting
the weakness of hate, responding
to you as a friend and not a foe.
I Have Died for the First Time
July 20, 2008
“I think of you as a brother,” SHE says
The words-like a spell-unlocked FEAR
Which attacked my heart relentlessly
To the point where I have now died my first death
*
I am dead inside
My heart bleeds profusely til the blood is no more
MY FEAR has taken solid form
And now exists to torture me
*
“I think of you not as a sister,
But something much more than that,”
I wish to say, but
My heart’s voice is being strangled
*
Did I speak far too soon?
Or did I speak far too late?
Did I release myself too quickly
Resulting in not relief, but the emptiness I feel now?
*
The Hurricane of Tragedy has broken
The Levees of my heart
Which suppressed my innermost emotions
Now the light which should guide me
To safe ground, has been Relinquished
And through the dark I must move alone
12 Jul 08
July 14, 2008
was it the night
we sat on steps avoiding
others so we could speak secrets and dreams until 4am?
or was it the time
we walked in the park in
autumn sat on a bench beneath
the night acutely aware of our hands and the distance between them?
or was it that Thursday
the first time my lips fell into yours
in the background the treading percussion of Explosions in the Sky?
or was it that Sunday
at circle of hope when I calculated the exact pressure
of your hand on mine to equal the love of God and kept it to myself?
was it in old city
beneath the din of eighties hip hop
when I told my friends I would marry you someday?
was it in spanish
stumbling mispronunciations and incorrect accents
in an attempt better know those who mean the world to you?
was it in harvard yard
dressed as wizards wandering and wondering
where we could find the best butter beer in cambridge?
or was it the summer
we spent unemployed reading and mastering
the NY times crossword puzzle then emerged, merged adjusting our eyes to autumn?
or was it that night
in central PA when you showed me how
to cup both hands to carefully catch these drifting constellations?
I cannot say exactly
when
only
somewhere
between my hands and yours
between sunset and sunrise
between the top and bottom step
between the mountains and the atlantic
between jersey and philly
between te amo and mahal kita
between the upbeat and downbeat
between the first and last page of this notebook
between one thousand and one days ago and today
I fell in love with you.
and even to partially properly articulate this
it will take my entire life
an infinite number of pages
and perfectly placed kisses
(which is part of my plan)
but something tells me
nothing will match
the simple eloquence
of your hand
in mine
some evening
fifty summers from tonight.
Confusion
July 9, 2008
People ask
“How do you feel?”
I say “Fine”
But do I really?
Am I to know
If I can not cry?
If I lie awake at night
Thinking without control
But not of my mother?
i have to try to do things for you because you do so much for me its easy to become lazy
July 7, 2008
incompetently taking your love for granted
narrowly escaping your wrath
the universe
June 27, 2008
Scientists announced Tuesday that our love is expanding at an infinite rate. While this perpetual growth cannot be seen, it can be concluded based upon observable effects. For example, the wavelengths of Time Spent Not Thinking About Each Other (T.S.N.T.A.E.O.) are exponentially drifting further apart, resulting in an undeniable red shift. Three predictions regarding the fate of these findings have been put forth by the scientific community: 1. Our love will continue to expand infinitely; 2. Our love will continue to grow, but the rate at which it does so will slow and approach a limit; 3. Our love will eventually peak and then subsequently collapse in upon itself, creating a black hole from which even light cannot escape.
Hos-piss
June 25, 2008
Hospice
A word with all the powers of a magnet
Drawing things together
Somethings are shunned and wish to be repelled
But they always return
Others are accepted easily
But can never come back
Everything attracted has something in common
Power to express emotions
Love
Pain
Fear
Last wishes-like fire-are warm
But too much fire surrounding one self becomes
The source of more love
The source of more pain
The source of more fear
The smoke becomes a heavy blanket
Smothering its starter
To reduce the burden a stand must be made
One of courage where friends may be hurt
You can piss out the fire
But you cant piss out the pain
Great difficulty lies on the path where you try to be kind and loving
But sacrifices must be made
To live the rest of ones days with only the closest people to their heart.
An Ode to my Beloved Mother
June 21, 2008
Clutching at my Mary,
Thinking of the gift,
I’ll always remember
Who I wish to be with.
But some dreams can’t come true,
For life is the beginning,
Try not to grasp to tightly
Before Death comes running for you….
Learning
May 24, 2008
Slow as Slo is to learn,
To have a mom is love he learns.
To be her son is his wish.
To feed from her and not his dish.
Slow as Slo is to learn,
Desire to know the world he yearns.
They both wish for attention.
Lovestrong air holding them in suspension.
Roger Mugs
rcribay
Ned
timsaslacker
joshuagrace
Julio Chapluzki
freakynewchild
Poeta Maximus
David X. Hugo
