Wednesday, September 07, 2005

I'm Mongrel Irish. Eventually, I'm Going To Fight, Sing, Or Write A Poem.


What are these little glamers and raptures? This Compulsion. This Skill for Chaos. Kaotic chic. What is this small penny arcade charisma, this weak Pied Piper energy? Mad-eyed glee. Selfish heart. Secret, haunting doubt. Fears...madness. Loathing. Self-loathing. Hatred. We Do Not Sow. Come, Reap. Rumors. Gossip. All my tiny hologram daemons - mocking and cavorting and bouncing the tennis ball against the wall of my skull. Flim-flam. Humbug. Construct. If you were in here with me - you'd understand why I'm surprised that any of you are around at all. It's amazing to me. And it makes me think there's some horrible problem with all of you. Maybe. But enough of that boring old maelstorm...that ever-decreasing-concentric-circle. My Paternal and Maternal Grandfathers fistfight in Heaven. Things are fine. Things are busy. Things are scary. I miss things. Like some ancient, forgotten railroad to Solomon's mines - jungle-hot and overgrown. This is where I was going a thousand years ago. This is the Road I was on. Wasn't it? Paved with these stones. I don't know. I was never handed any maps. All my mother's letters begin: Maybe now you'll go back to school. School. Yes, maybe. Another stone in my pocket. Another yellow brick. Red and yellow, kill a fellow. Red on black, good for Jack. I jumped off the boat and swam for shore. All the detritus and wreckage ended up on the beach - buried waist high. Easter Island Abstractions. Their meanings rubbed away - just the suggestions of faces, names, places, half-truths, complete lies, unfinished memories. Wheels within wheels within wheels. So many parts to play. And it's about time I decide to be TInker, Tailor, Soldier, or Spy. Tick, tick, tick. Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey!!! Lazy Mary will you get up, we need the sheets for the table. I need to grow the fuck up. Well, okay, I've mapped my navel enough for today. Just needed to get some of that out. This ghetto-ninja post brought to you by The Downtown Public Library System.

2 comments:

David Almeida said...

I hang around you hoping I might get you to chew off my ear someday.

Mission accomplished!

Have a nice life.

Hee hee

Schmacko said...

My keyword was "ktxuba" which is actually an aboriginal tuba slash bong pipe. But that bit of trivia aside...


I BELIEVE
People bond to and stick with each other because the moment itself is beautiful and the future potential looks even better.

I'd say that fits.