Category Archives: solemn

The Continental United States Is How I Disappear

Posted on by under non-rhyming, poetry, rhyming, solemn

I have things to pass the time and I have things to smash the clocks,
I have things to take you there and I have things to bring you back,
I have:
– a hundred thousand in $20 and $10 bills,
– a beat-up four-door, just for the feel of it,
– the next three motels mapped out,
– all the cigarettes Philip Morris ever made and
– a love that I’m not afraid to use

So drive to West 51st and switch cars, pretending to be invisible
which we all are. Give up the handicrafts and drama
to drown in handshakes, in Americana.
Leave behind five-star bistros and their rustic feel,
alongside what once was the American Dream;
boutiques so quaint which really ain’t,
suits and ties and the Man and his lies,
the money and the pie charts, piled atop the downtrodden hearts,
the infotainment, the “I want to be famous”,
the bagels, the crap coffee, the sweet taste of nothing –
and the rooms pregnant with silence.

With silence. That serves but threat and dust.
With silence. That is a bullet in the chamber of us.
With silence. That has swept our purpose aside.
With silence. That at gunpoint laughs at our lives.

– and I want to make it out of here with you
for Uncle Sam may want you, but not half as bad as I do.

I want to find the center point of Kansas’ plains,
there bury the keys to our Brooklyn loft;
to bring down the killing Texan sun
and howl at the Montanan moon,
so silver and aloof; on wolf hours walk past each
empty seat of Soldier Field, and for my kin
claim the land they dubbed Illinois;
to see the spirits as they shift the seasons,
as do believe the Iroquois.

To rob and ruin Fort Knox so a billion lives could reboot;
I’m ready and willing, but with nobody but you.
It would take four hands a hundred years
to carry and sink all that gold to San Fran Bay…
and “yes we can”, as they always say.

Synchronize watches and hearts in 3… 2… 1… now.

Radical in the Open

Posted on by under humorous, non-rhyming, poetry, solemn

I met this omg_lol_wtf anglophile
her tits poetry, my nihilism my license to do things
with a twenty yrs old with a balloon in place where some of us
have shit like the frontal lobe
she was a radical in the open, practicing her aim
as well as her free speech
to make speech more free of meaning
bereft of purpose – bang bang mothafucka

so let’s discuss the financial situation
or what the gov’t did last week
or the way the 90s affected our society
or how punk’s not dead, just sleeping tight right now
or traffic or weather or sitcoms like we give a shit
or did I ever tell you about this one time
or to hell with it all
god above, I wanna make inroads
into you, baby
and get drunk and fuck and drink and rinse and repeat
not necessarily in this order

masturbation is the ultimate form of self-motivation
I got two thugs on the payroll
swinging at the end of my ropes I call arms
her ass a void of expectations
a boyhood fantasy

and that’s just how I roll
and that’s just how the money rolls in
and I don’t mix my drinks with purpose
and I don’t expect to start

A thing that happened

Posted on by under short stories, solemn

Coming from a bad day, walking towards another one.

In Kallio, I stepped into the metro. Sat down. A minute into it, my neck tickled. I put my hand up and brushed it.

Looking at my hand, there was a tiny little ladybug. Must’ve climbed aboard aboveground.

It had two black spots on its wings. At this moment, it escapes me what that means: if it means it was young, if it means it was male or female… or if it just means it had two black spots on its wings.

I cupped my fingers around the ladybug. Protected it for four stoplengths. Had I let it go, it might’ve lost its way back aboveground and perished in the attempt.

Cupping my hand and looking like some idiot, I climbed for open air at Kamppi. Walked outside and looked for the first birch I could find. Left the bug there safe n’ sound. On its own wings, it would never have flown that mile, emerged in a new place.

As I departed from the birch, my mission complete, a songline I used to cry to comes on in my headphones. And I head home.

In conclusion: perhaps life wins this round. Perhaps beneath it all, a point to it all patiently awaits.

May Dreamers Never Die

Posted on by under non-rhyming, poetry, solemn

A girl squats down, hem of her dress riding up
and the sun sees two patted knees
leans in to give them a kiss
She picks a stick of chalk
and draws a story on dark grey canvas
of Spanish asphalt
with the moral of the story being
that stories really need no morals

A boy leans forward, from deep pocket
and eye’s dark socket, produces a knife
and points it at Life herself
Lets the threat subside and begins
to carve
Promise of perseverance he dreams of
upon the bark of pine, as if it’ll last
“Thug life now N 4eva”

May they meet, may they be one from two
May they not merely live, but prosper
May dreamers never die

CMMNCTR

Posted on by under humorous, non-rhyming, poetry, solemn

I’m surrounded by NDAs
like cages telling me the whole world is a secret
that I cannot tell.
“Hey, it’s all gone swell.”
It’s all gone to hell: I could shout it from the rooftops
or buy the tower of Kelvedon Hatch to air it
and nobody’d care.

What I had for lunch falls under the Trade Secret Act of ’94
and if I’d tell you, I’d never work in this town again.
I’d lllluuuuv to never work in this town again.

I had sushi for lunch.

I don’t have dreamy eyes;
I’m just tired, is all.

I’m a living, breathing sleight of hand:
“quick, look that way” –
but you can look at it this way:
I’m still uploading my full potential
and so far, only half the asshole I could be.

I don’t have dreamy eyes
I’m just tired, is all.

I lay in bed and pretend
not to hear the noises
of my neighbours fighting or fucking, not sure
(hope they’re fucking or else it’s a long fight)

and think of what I do:
helping someones come up
with somethings to say
and after Round No. Umpteen
of corrections, wanting by now to go for broke,
to speak neither truth nor falsehood,
but just to SCREAM out n’ be done with it.
Just.
To have something.
ANYthing.
To SAY!!!

I don’t have dreamy eyes, I told you:
I’m just tired, and that is all.

Empires

Posted on by under non-rhyming, poetry, solemn

This world’s a snake built on politics
and the second you think you’re safe,
it will bite.

This world’s a communion of men
whose deeds you’ve forgotten, forgiven;
who calculated you’d forget, forgive;
who will bite.

Freedom is to build your own fence and cage
and to fight wars on paper over paper.
What has patience bought us
but time to kill in the hope
that one day our luck would suffice
and it would be that time that would crumble our walls,
not the spearhead of some thrall of pride?

None more vile than men who’ve learned to wipe blood
on their hands, across their face without feeling the hate,
without needing the red haze set before their eyes.

Next time you watch your Kings,
your Presidents, your Overlords…
Picture them in warpaint, in kevlar vests with blades in hand.
Picture them in camouflage and balaclavas, their mouths the mouths of sharks.
Picture them in suicide vests, with a billion bullets laid at each of their feet.
Picture them with dirt under their nails from digging a mass grave.
Picture them wearing your worried face as their common mask.

Fixer’s Lever

Posted on by under short stories, solemn

So get this:

Imagine that somewhere there’s a closed room and in that room there’s a lever. You are led to the room and told to enter it. Inside you are told that once you leave you can never return and whatever your action is, it is final. You are given this one time to choose.

You are told that by pulling the lever you will fix the problems of everyone you know. Their wounds are healed and their scars erased, they’ll get the things they’ve wanted, the opportunities they’ve hoped for, the people they’ve desired will desire them back. Everyone you know: your friends and loved ones… but also your enemies and those in your life you despise.

Not pulling the lever will leave things as they are now. Nothing will change for the better, not for those you hold your grudges against, but also not for those you hold dear.

You are told no one will ever know you were given the chance to pull the lever. Only you have to live with the knowledge of how you chose.

Do you pull the lever or do you leave the room doing nothing?

You make your choice, either way, and walk out.

Now consider that there are people out there who would choose like you and people who would choose otherwise, many of them without a second thought.

Whatever you chose, the implications about who you are and about who others are, are staggering.