Thursday, August 17, 2017
Thursday, August 10, 2017
something i feel is
in you, this vindictive mother
from the middle east somewhere: i wanna see you suffer like how
my children have had to- if i can see humanity
in you, i know you can do it; i know i can
banish my shadow to the other side. i don't have the time to trust that shit.
this is me doing black magick and calling it something else romantic, like, white
magick, 'kuz, if i
trust it, then that's taking away its romanticism,
and i know i wanna stay in the honeymoon phase forever.
i'm giving you material manifestation, baby- that's when giving counts
as a birthday present. you've always
wanted this so shut the fuck up and get hard.
*fin*. she was talkin' to me, the west. you know how mothers can be.
givin' me grass that ain't candy.
disappointment i guess you see in me when i be
twitchin' my whiskers, dunno
what a hunter is except what ya s'posed to run from. something tells me: it's you. a part
of you unknown to you.
"i don't want any bunnies eatin' my carrots y'hear!"
ya chase me wit ya rifle, than remember some other place
you happen to be in at the same time. "i know you wouldn't eat all of my carrots, though. please come back.
your ears... so cute, so tiny."
ya makin' me naive, me bein'
the silly li'l bunny i am, don't know any better
than to attract myself to danger. i dunno how to avoid
winding up being unrealistic.
white as the man that told ya to get out of here what's yours is mine now, white as milk,
white as snow.
that's me being what the clouds are:
i learned a word from your language and now i'm everywhere, stretchin'
across the blue skies, infinite cotton ball being gently torn. loomin' over.
i can't stop your coming inside me: already tasted you- sweet, i would
swallow forever, named you butterfly.
already looked and, upon doing so, saw
we've shared one another in past lives, meaning, however
it once went down, it helped lead up to my survival today, and it's advantageous of me to seek more of this.
and you as well. you as fucking well.
see? now you got me mad, i used the "f" word. now i'm starin' your tumor down. takin' it away from ya, doin' the dirty work, the surgery. it's not
embrassin' for me to be an MD in front of you, only
in front of the other MDs, so here i go, confidently.
the tumor is the part that doesn't get me. you're its little bitch. it's the part of you that dislikes my
pink lips, pink nipples, when, just the other day, when just
givin you a ride was all it would take for you to get
i love you unconditionally, all my pink parts made me a prize in your eyes.
white is my essence, is what the tumor says to you about me, robust listless n' disillusioned. white makes
the rest of the world toxic, makes us go mad. just bein' honest, broski, is its afterthought.
white is sheltered, yeah you can be loud an' proud 'kuz ya bougie, always
got a roof over ya head no matter how you screw up; to which i reply: never thought i'd see the day when my suffering
would be comparatively overlooked, dismissed as privileged,
'kuz ostracism, my personal cancer, what
has made me a refugee in my own right, don't mean shit next to how you see shit.
my ostracism is too new.
my ancestors, the seed we all sprout from, stole this land and brainwashed me, i'm so privileged that i'll deny that this is actually something that's actually happened.
you put words in my mouth like that. you say you're straightforward...why can't
you just say, "i'm afraid to trust you"? why we always gotta put blame on one another?
love you for everything except your tumor, the way
satan hurt you, papi. wanna nurse you back to health but i'm no mother, just
a witch, and only 'kuz i like adventure.
my discipline is all about removing, binding and burying your tumor, so that we can move on,
dunno how it'll effect the rest of you; hope ya won't become a zombie. we'll see.
offering to the elements, getting myself to let go, and accepting loss, hasn't done
as much as i want it to do. i wanna be completely free of this.
*buried*. and now we are both awake, multi-colored, set free. we are all multi-colored. i see shaman.
love you for everything and even your tumor
now that it's just a pet you once had, papi. (last part was just a dream.) 💔
Monday, August 7, 2017
house is looked in on but she don't care- too young to be rewired by paranoia. got "circe" tattooed on her ass. got "animal mother" buzzed into her hair.
too young for the news, computer, or thinking money is anything other than stupid. all gets her angry at herself 'kuz she dunno how to pay attention, or how to retain information, unless it's the kind picture books are made of. all she wants anymore is picture books...she knows that's where god is at.
the kinda girl you'd expect to never figure out potty training even though she wasn't a crack baby (per se).
she's a brat, at the end of the day, which, to some, means she's abusive.
"i love you, here, lemme show you," she says to him. they take off their glasses to see that they're really seein'.
"just wait momentarily," she says to mr. spider. "it's just been a minute. i just need to warm up. get this thing to work." she's still bein' spun though it's more like being embraced by heaven. he's still there with her.
Saturday, July 29, 2017
Saturday, July 22, 2017
but now i'll never forget
since i saw you look up at the clouds.
it was something like you were a roll of styrofoam
when i got in there,
as per self defense- wonder if you ever did
get a chance to say sorry to god.
oh, sheltered white girl
standing up for us all against ostracism,
you really do know what real cancer is, what, unlike
the rest of us, monsters really look like.
you really do
lifetime achievement award.
Friday, July 21, 2017
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
been places you'll never go. we've been everywhere," (have their periods without getting it all over the seat) ,"and what's your number?"
popular girls in the hallway who still count
their sex partners with their fingers.
"who do you think you're allowed to touch? not that i wanna imagine you like that," police raid said. this is who adversary has changed into.
i point at the dead guy who used to hurt me pretty bad, with and without consent. "him?! but he's old enough to be your dad! ew!"
but that's part of the point.
revisiting means i've never let go of
anything, anything ever,
before. skull of absorption.
guess this means either artificiality has redeeming factors or
it doesn't exist
and i've just been mean.
i don't *mean* to choose this, you shitty asshole.
i know you're interviewing me, over there- i can
see the whites of your eyes. so, i repeat:
don't *mean* to
choose this, shitty shithead,
so you don't need to tell me to go die or eat shit over it.
cock piss shit fuck dick.
you disappoint me.
i want my darling daughter back.
my illness is. you can't picture it/ you're just
jealous is all,
it has nothing to do with me not doing my
that i didn't get it;
i don't know how to read and instructions are stupid,
i only think in
since i think only in people,
let me introduce you to them.
here are the people that i am a matriarch of:
01. correct answer: b
02. correct answer: a
03. correct answer: d, all of the above
04. only correct answers;
do you see? see? look. open your mind. look.
if you knew that i can't look at things 'kuz
you'd recognize me as resilient/ wonder why
i'm not out-and-out violent.
you're not looking really like you claim to be doing
Friday, July 7, 2017
teddy bears out to be the bad guys,
when i'm too old for that shit. i think
it's you that has something
to do with this, at the same time
i believe it to be everything to do
me. you're just as selfish, only difference
being you don't think that about you
and you only believe in your perceptions of me
which you've got all backwards. it seems
that these two things happen
at the same time, but they're actually just
two different ways to look at the same thing.
no. if i was president, here's
what i'd abolish, for you: no more
money. no more time. no more bitching and
moaning. no more
talking about donald trump- i miss george bush.
no more internet addiction
and the no-list, for myself:
no more bra, no more underwear, no more makeup
no more white skin it makes me a tourist,
no more meat, no more sugar
no more waste except
the disappearing kind.
all about integration.
all the twelve year old girls
and only twelve year old girls. so becoming
in their fear of drawing attention
to inadequacies. me and all my friends
supress our sneezes
i guide them into your man cave
where it is that we start talking about only boys
for the rest of our lives
until you cheat on me with them. (then is when we
become women.) delivering yourself from
not feeling so good each time. short term based.
message them, "haha *emphatic lol* stacey, that was a really funny joke you just said," in that way
that equalizes how
the responses of twelve year old boys would be.
my name, which is gonna be
BBW one day, when i'm a
yeah. i've only been trying to amuse you
with my delightfulness for fucking ever.
hope you know BBW is who i'll be
so that you'll look back at my developing chest as your "rosebud".
my name is something like
a ghost's that is inside of me, which
is actually a dark place of psyche's
that i do not give to myself as me. has, and will always be, part of
what's built on indian burial grounds.
Wednesday, July 5, 2017
will never be met. the originator of addiction.
i am unsatisfied
reaction: personifying impression of
quick burst of
until taste is built up
which happens quickly
and then i wait
thinking about sex
for half a second
i have been noble. kiss my faith.
Monday, July 3, 2017
a girl was chopped in half
by a door that closed on her
and her memorial service
her memory was honored at? shattered
people are noble for their victimizations, it said.
element of true love
resonated through that. (gave purpose).
snake of sorts.
we glue to
that which speaks strongly about us, for us
as we ourselves are cheapened
which cannot be penetrated.
first woman lives there, carrying
with the juice of pomegranate
down the front of her shirt
which she had dribbled
. feeling fat.
"i've done it,"
calling upward, "there's nothing left
to want from me.
now release my family."
i'm not going to the woods. i've abandoned the woods. the pressure
to refuse abandonment
has gotten to me.
i will have a fresh start
this is how born agains are born.
i'm doing this for my brothers and sisters.
to be asked
in a way
that'll release, from
buried memory, any
of my prepared answers
to be paintings
by dead masters, talented people
i want this to be
how it goes
to get the point across
that i admire thinking
that i think
and i take it seriously, i do it
this is how i survived
in jungles, deserted islands, during
prior states of consciousness.
i wanna tell you, anyone,
that i'm in jail today, and, in order
to be rescued, let's stay true
to the heart of the book: it needs to be solved.
that i was taught
is the way it needs to be approached
by books movies tv, whom
i refuse to reproach.
for the timing
to open like this
one effect i'm going for
is day-to-day concerns
ceasing to cast relevance
so that boundaries
will turn out
have always been a curse
one that we break
when i am fetal inside your body, you,
fetal inside mine. that's when
nature is fine
there are recluses that are attractive.
i am raising a son i love to death. getting
even the witches
seem to believe less in magick, more
in keeping up appearances
must really be sorry.
while your parents were divorcing, without
i was jumped by several guys at once
from the other
all of their masks scared me.
and it stayed that way
inner-child loving me
is not enough, especially. that comes
after accepting there are no cures.
sound of a balloon. of a recorder. my dog
panting as he guards me. cancelling field trips.
there's clearly something to excavate here.
i'm sure it's something i have to
allow my teeth to fall out over.
Sunday, July 2, 2017
being spotted making faces in response
to the division, and, simultaneously, this
being both a way to mark, and making the shifting in many ways turn out to be a being out
if she warms up
we suppose it's a volcano
it'll stay warm
or, even get warmer
from now on, once
an equal, an equal
why its fragilities
the way they are
(mr. potato head)
turn out to've been just
scared, some shit
feel loved, it'll come out
of its shell
(shoes, eyes, smiling mouth, and hat; actual potato)
sheltered this whole time.
i am, or, i was, more than
to anything apparently soft, which is
an action that makes sense
who hadn't aged past three years.
stuffed animals, more than
more than isolated refuge in self soothing.
i am being wanting
to be equal.
i devote to
who ensure this
will happen for me
i cover my ears, looking
over my shoulder, to see
if passion gained
will happen to be around
as i suspect
it's missing, as opposed
to it now: are you
mad at me, or, more likely, have i been exaggerating
our relationship? can i
show you my hair
and show it to others
to ask that
is to put it out there
that i'm open to
the possibility of feeling
when i'm not- no,
not without reacting afterward. impulsively
put out fire, or, my happiness, many
times before. i do
things for you, like, shave
my head for robes, as a way
to tell you
i appropriate in ways newly found now. but i
appropriate through my
you are missing, that i
consider you to be so-
still exist to me. religion
changes masks, face
behind it, disappointing.
i am in charge of.
i was raised without a sense of.
on a platform it's like...like, livid,
hot sex, the kind
you continue thinking of even when
family is around. "tell me i'm
nice," is what i pull you in to say
when, instead, "i do this for you,"
is more like it, as you rape me,
webcams everywhere, daddy.
it has everything
to do with wanting to convince myself
i'm getting ready
something about it gives the others self, and me, reminder
performance makes it possible
to moving out one day
and knowing those who do this, "others".
a pet unexpectedly
births itself from chest's cavity, pet
admits it wants to learn how to suckle. slut.
this is iraq
learning it wants to talk to strangers.
Saturday, July 1, 2017
Friday, June 30, 2017
the kind of thing you can't talk about with people. it's just not something
we talk about. something we've ever
just tell them you're not all that resilient
is what's going on.
perception of physicality distorts into
a bellies shape. the armor
that protects the inside from
a germination. this is being poetic. asserting myself.
gone with the wind is the sky.
this is the suspense beyond the realm
of failure; feeling
oppressed easily, and popping
like a balloon as soon as it happens.
Thursday, June 22, 2017
of my involvement in accidents.
what's happening is
that's me disappearing
when i need myself the most,
the fat that breaks my fall.
she buries herself past
the winter, pretending
to be an iceberg
it's safe to be without praise there.
i am the satyr
whose scent she does not trust.
it's a shame this is the only hymn
i'll ever know.
Monday, June 19, 2017
star power, targeting it- destination
supposedly the end
of suffering. being so serious a mission,
i understand there is no room for what was (me).
it makes me it. this is something different than
how i make others me. i am its room
is how it differs. dancer
teaching me how to dance, or, undoing my
taming. no funeral
for former inhibitions.
underneath now, swamp monster
i suffocate, whose breath
i believe to be separate from mine; "i am the battery,"
all that uneven power dynamic crap.
often i try to reenact you.
until i come out of personal coma
you are shadow.
Sunday, June 18, 2017
overdrive: "me and stacey
go everywhere together."
that my lover, horizontal line, a
will notice our son has his eyes. high hopes he will return.
tongue has left sesame street. not to say
my young, rather, he matured past me, repulsed
by his relating to me, and left.
we put a spoon on his naked body to
keep him warm through
these harsh winter nights. it got me to stay in place, underneath, birthing a
new wild animal everyday.
“thou art not mine,” i abandon
each of them, each, a cop, upon
my ritual i've got worked out: trust fall to the floor
with a socialist salute.
i've learned to prefer the company of tile.
Saturday, June 17, 2017
Wednesday, June 14, 2017
dying prematurely, for a future (your seeing being
many shattered pieces),
i know. female pronouns
dismiss the relevance of universality. boys can't connect today-
their cell is not mine.
i am the thing you're looking at. i don't know
if you know that
being sexualized, and being encouraged to
allow this, is
prison somewhere else. prison is
different here in heaven.
the tick on your head just called you grace.
this is an angel's name.
this next sip of lavender tea
makes you even more complicit
in changes your colors from wild
to sky blue
you know that already.
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
is one that's modest
of health, or, worthwhileness.
true blood and vomit mess, not
like how we believe
such to be;
this is a tattoo i regret. i resist
more happening to it
other than its own echo. a dream wife's religion
betraying shape of expectation.
Monday, June 5, 2017
as i expect myself to
my relationship with the trees
frustrates me. it mirrors
myself the wall
that is the only thing i know.
the face of god changes even
into those whose medicine
i do not escape waste, not
succumb to being
a belonging. this too shall get something to begin.
when the sun comes up
all reveals itself as illusory.
Saturday, May 27, 2017
my blood to the gods. i do this when i breathe among others.
it trickles onto their feet, sprouting
a fungus out of their skin.
they go back to what they were doing.
i then realize
that my playing my lyre for them was
all in my head; her body
i tossed aside.
Friday, May 26, 2017
Tuesday, May 23, 2017
will other people respond, will they respond nicely? would it make a big difference
like i'd like it to?
if i find myself
would i find myself
marvelling upon discovery? maybe i haven't explored yet. maybe i've
never even moved before, maybe i antithesize movement.
if i called myself names, which mean, at least superficially, something, would my name still
guess i made life up
with my wild imagination (which is imagined)
to keep myself busy.
this is my job which is the only job.
so this is when i meet the part when i learn that i'm not actually being held captive in a belltower by an evil, jealous witch, nor am i a social activist being penalized for aligning confrontation with soul, as in, i'm not surprising anyone, because they're only my stuffed animals and i actually have learned they're not home anymore, either. climaxes aren't offered, that is. there is no offerer.
maybe there are others, and they've fled to a safe house when i wasn't looking, which is where they get married, to other people, or to drugs, which is sensible, if they felt like how i do before they got married. well, i'll just keep doing the things i do because i know it'll matter in the long run.
one: i'll run faster.
if i run faster than i'm sure i'll feel anger which i'm sure i must be feeling. no? maybe if i run as fast as i can. no? well, i guess i'm not ready for anger today. maybe if i run without passion that would help me.
two: i'll listen to music louder.
i know i must feel something when i listen to music. i know that i love music. maybe if i just make it louder, as opposed to restricting how much i listen to, it'll prove that all i've needed to do is let go, and that, yes, this really has all been an evil spell. when i'll blast music, i'll know that, because i'll connect to it. no? i'll blast it even louder, so loud, that it'll kill my tinnitus. that's mean, but maybe that's what i need to do. i'll blast music louder and louder, and it'll be the music that, in my heart of hearts, is the music that is important to me.
three: track moon phases.
i'll see where i am during the different phases of the moon, and which sign it's positioned in. full moon in scorpio: exhausted. new moon in scorpio: trying to convince myself i'm not exhausted.
if i get myself to match the schedule of the sky, i'll feel things, and i'll feel them harmoniously. my relationship with my intuition will tone...i'll be a witch. a white witch a green witch. changing my name to pay respects to the way the universe works. the way i am will make sense. i'll write my dreams down, too, and i'll start to understand what's going on here.
and when i plant, the plants will talk to me. all the sunflowers i plant, and the other happy plants i plant, i'll feel happy when i lookat them, not mad at myself for not feeling. i will learn so many stories. i will hear everything loud and clear.
but i guess i'm still not yet ready even to realize when something is a calling.
four: maintain hygenic health.
if i keep adding lemon to my water, and i keep working on commiting to my veganism, and if i learn to be okay with my distorted relationship with food, it'll stop feeling like i'm raping myself when i eat. if i just hold on to believing this will get me to feel like how cookbooks and nutritional guides say it will, and one knows when it will, it will be something other than upsetting.
five: have a positive attitude.
maybe if i just keep up with cultivating my rosy outlook, saying positive things when i feel less than positive, it will add up to me being something. maybe if i just was awful...maybe that would help? i could never.
six: find self. find self in change.
if i just decorate my room and say while doing this, "this is me doing this," or "i belong here," i will feel it.
maybe i just haven't had the luck to like anything i believe i like yet.
seven: try grounding exercises periodically throughout day.
if i turn the cold water on, in the shower, and make the water as cold as it can get, that'll get me to wake up. maybe that's what i need to do to unlock secret pathways within myself to get myself to know it's okay to be this way. being nothing means i'm not desperate, which i like, because desperation nauseates me. i may not like the way i inhibit it, but i love the way i refrain from exhibiting it. maybe i just need to get better at doing this. maybe i haven't been willing. maybe i'm too willing. nevermind. nothing.
i meditate and respect meditation. i'm really nice. i light incense and trust that all of this needs to happen- needs to happen as in, it'll turn into something. i love myself because i think i'm really brave of me to come where i am coming from- you know, life is on hold until you love yourself. my name is nothing because, i'm just not ready yet to turn into something, and i'm not gonna judge that.
i'm not desperate, and here's evidence: i hike up creeks on rainy days and that's something someone at peace would do. as i'm hiking, i notice myself worrying that i'm stepping on turtle eggs, that i'm abusing my dog, that what i'm actually doing is putting out a deathwish out there. but i say, i'm sure this kind of thinking happens to people on vision quests, and, maybe that's what i've been doing this whole time, and maybe if i just keep going, i'll see my ancestors- maybe they won't be elephants, but still, there'll be evidence that some of my beliefs are real, which would make sense to me if they were, because i don't cling to them, necessarily. i maintain a healthy skepticism.
my hard work will be affirmed. and a parade of spiritual overseers will say, "well done," or, "we're proud of you," and i'll see the world as it really is as in, it'll touch me, and it'll turn out i've just been a shaman going through a rite of passage this whole time. at that same moment, a nice boy will court me, and i'll efforrlessly, and, politely, deny them.
and, maybe i just haven't learned yet. maybe that's just what i need, is to evade learning for now. maybe i've just been missing the point. and that's okay! it's just expression.
Sunday, May 21, 2017
Wendiann Alfieri is a weird writer. She has been a weird writer for years. She doesn’t think there is any other way to describe herself. Her favorite color is purple and her favorite animal is the turtle. If she were to do anything at all in the world, she would make everyone and everything equal to each other so that everyone would treat others with respect.
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Friday, May 12, 2017
Saturday, May 6, 2017
years of age. i'm holding him across me
and he sobs, he wants a party.
the party is to go back to the way things were before we were born
i want the same
and fill the fridge
with deli meats, cheese and eggs, stuff like that
it's my way of saying i faintly hope you want the same as what i want eternally. get up and
open its door,
it's maybe heaven inside,
where maybe god's patiently waiting.
Sunday, April 23, 2017
i open the window for
because fresh air is healthy
and you're all about demands sometimes.
i feel frozen. what can i afford, or, what more
can i do for you; when is the next day
they will equate
so i can know i have
my strength to look forward to validating?
i deny acknowledging
that i do everything for this relationship
because you are unable- you are a queen,
you've never moved a muscle,
and sometimes, my hard work
i dedicate to you
fuels my frustration; that's when i tell you
i get you're amoral, incapable
and this really hurts my feelings, confounds
my shit; where do you go
when compromised? i need space
i'm not allowed to have.
there is no value
for my wants seperate from you anymore,
just missing, aching.
origins (sometimes i think it would be
radical, accepting, responsible, brave
for me to abandon all obligations
all of them, yes, all-or-nothing
it's only names of moons
i care about
give me romanticism; care about me while understanding,
twinkle twinkle twinkle
lyre lyre lyre
Sunday, April 16, 2017
Friday, April 14, 2017
this is the part that grows legs
this is the part that grows blowing bubbles
this is the part that matters
this is the part that's nothing and needs to be nothing to begin with so beautiful things can happen
this is the part that's buddha
do you see me, laughing fuck?
do you see me under my tree
that is the tree that matters the most to me?
what was it like abandoning your family?
i'm abandoning my family, because of you, because i'm curious
to unearth soul from under the mass
of my own isolated suffering.
must be made, because
our emotions weren't ever
we are not mourning doves, nor
are we swans,
together forever together forever means blah blah blah blah blah kinda protocol
my scent is onto something.
confused about the whole being an animal thing.
Monday, April 10, 2017
Saturday, April 8, 2017
Tuesday, April 4, 2017
and so much more,
i will forgive them for seeming unreal when they
turn to me, saying, "aside from you. you really
need to learn to enjoy fucking up.
(e.g., putz about farting, head droop toward
cell phone here, pick at ear wax
it will be known that i've been too poor as in
unable to listen without
the interference of ascetic mindset. not allowed to exist
without conserving the memory
of anorexia i.e., the good ol' days.
mirror is dissolved for them. they're able to see
i am sorry.
only the giving needs to know that,
they wouldn't just happen to know.
ps. trauma is relative ( i wanna say that, because
i thought i was all trauma, so bad, that now
i would die if it was removed from who i am.
people like going to the opera
no matter what kind.
just a suggestion: do not be a hero. only then
does robbery become your problem.
just pretend to be a mountain. if i can do it
anyone can. i'm a
dragging my feet across the ground
because it's telling me
my history is under there
shhhh. hear it all? storytellers. okay, i'll say something now, though.
and because this is how to
say something, i'll howl about landscape
exclusively to find
"seemed interesting. not sure
what to make of it. bold or whatever."
speaks in tongues to ensure
likelihood of afterword. (speaks in tongues
is name given by spirit i stalk,
hold up, refuse to release- refuse
to let become invisible.
loses voice. speaks in tongues
all the other directions that pull, which is
"release me" is all they're trying
when they pull. not yet, i say, not until
i get to know you entirely, memorizing
lucky mcluckster. isle of
having the biggest dick.
Thursday, March 30, 2017
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
to dogma of them all).
how much of gaia do you submit to?
i'm her bottom girl
proud to be a love object this time
"you're my everything shhh"
"i'm your everything shhh,"
that's the script in the game we play
that we keep secret.
i know the impressions i make
shapes of light
weighing atop face of the earth, urging me to sex-sex-sex
the dirty gross sex that robs us, that is
that we all look for in others
in hopes of looking outside self
ultimately about producing physical babies
which teach me how to love. me seeing myself
reborn in all of societies sons
until i am reduced to
(this isn't even it speaking. this is myself as
an orphan child
that was supposed to be the fate.
(i'm not gonna deny the shadow people speak up for me.)
tv/computer screen's the torturous landowner who
still owns slaves, too reared
to get its own hands soiled.
i'm not gonna deny i'm the snakes and the hand
that threatens their habitat.
i'm not gonna deny i'm cleopatra, i, who witnesses the
world through all perceptions
would be unable to deny without knowing
i'm lying actually.
i've asked mrs. day of light, the art teacher,
to find the remote for me so i can
change the channel. she's compliant
state of inert
when it's like: impatient, shocked,
and not relating to my ignorance
'kuz it's too foreign, shadow person different
from the others
i sprawl on the couch uncertain
keep still that way
this being what i look at as my voice
yes it talks to itself so what
when translated, it
be life's worth
gauged by a thermometer, mythical, as in
hides from us, we hide from it.
i'm gonna find it. transmute it
through me if i can, and make it be
black magick because
bats are the angels today.
i see them
out of reach from my hands.
what's within needs me to tell itself
to let it all be wind among winds; being a hero
is how i like fucking up best, isn't it?
reflection after reflection one seamless image
pasted together. sloppy amateur shit.
i know only the light passing through. i like
of all places. and i see you.
you want to know what it's like being other people,
but without leaving evidence.
i am nice, pretending
i don't see you seeing
okay you see these objects
now that makes them messages from suppressed-mind
i know your approach so you are no stranger.
look over there, at what
i point toward. blur your eyes now, look at it
look around it
you are doing your best, only
you've never been good at keys and this is a key
where you give your eyes to
look look no really really look
and look within
look further within
you can do more damage than that
it's only looking deep inside yourself and
you can do that, right? anyone can
unintended image reflected; i name it "planted knife", weapon
again the slaughter of my romanticism
go hide it upstairs
the part of the house that's a ghetto
surely a sunflower will become of it
if you let it separate like how it wants
that's what i was pointing toward
for you to look at.
alligator challenged me to sever his head
so i can fit myself inside without getting my head bitten off.
i feel alligator warmth now, wanna try?
i've found out where red (blood) ends and green(ish skin) begins
i did not know this in myself
without doing it to estrange it from
"it's my nature," said the scorpion, or whoever it was, in the passage
people refer to
to assert relevance of zen.
it's my nature, said me
doing the same.
Sunday, March 26, 2017
Thursday, March 23, 2017
Safety looks like ease. Trust. Curiosity. And even surrender. It’s not a fight. It’s not a battle. It’s a cooperative exchange and an exploration. It’s becoming more of our whole selves because we are becoming less fragmented and self-evasive. We stop hiding parts of our personhood from our awareness. We embrace it all in order to heal.
Monday, March 20, 2017
from the white man who formerly robbed us. i'm at that point
where i'm separation itself, that
in-between spot. of course, there's separation
in all of us. we're not stupid here.
let me look at this as a bridge to decisions
i've dreamed of making.
everything we're doing is for potentiality, size
of the grain of sand from the never-ending story. grain of sand
many wishes come true, one after the other.
i may get all self conscious around those pale impersonators
but i'll learn to adjust
to the new living- me, the pair of fangs.
if our efforts backfire,
let me shrink to naivety, how it was before, so this will not
come back to me.
i'm gonna get this to be the part of me that feels so good to
let out. it does seem muddy
in secrecy (the backbone who can suck my dick).
sacred fire gets sick of me denying its rights, so
spontaneously it possesses me
until i release it
and wildfire is the world.
i guess wildfire is the world, no matter what, though, huh.
i guess this is me counting on fire to be justified in its rage
just for now; this being
my obsessing over the fat chick with pistols and perfect tits, who i salute
when i wear all black- one observes
i'm a trick of hers that's been turned.
her will broke me. determined 'kuz she says so.
she lives in caves in afghanistan and
sacrifices animals to nihilism.
has no problem resisting persuasion
('kuz it disgusts her),
does not read, is hardly effected by current events
unless they effect her life evidently
admits porn makes girls look bad at acting, and fucking is gross
even when doing it, only eats dirt
has never spoken a word
has never looked at the stars. seems obligatory.
hates obligation (believes
in hate). sees obligation
in things other people do, as in
they do the things they do to themselves.
complacency is the white witch.
i am under her wing
when i'm with her, you are intimidated by us both
raping your dreams
the ones you block out, or interpret
to exhaustive, or declare nightmares.
when i'm ready to wake up, whenever i want,
i'll be forgiving, 'kuz i'm liberated now.
i'll say, "sorry," in the vein of
showing respect, not admitting shame. shame is dead. i killed it
myself. i had turned into death
just to kill shame how i wanna. you just look shit in the eye
when you least have it in you.
blood, muscle, brains, will, balls.
Sunday, March 19, 2017
with glasses clear as day?
the inner lifelessness that gets things seen on tv to seem flat. watching tv
as the rest of the world, except binge eating, confronts me with my disinterest, frustration, and anger toward illness.
the cancer cell is green and lurking, chameleon personality, like mine. original sin.
starting sentences coming out like i just feel like
it just seems like
just leave the shit unfinished, forcing it
will not get me to admire myself, convinced
otherwise or not.
i just feel like
being out of control seems like
cruelty; maybe it's justified, not
superficial, not a pessimistic front
to say life is unfair, if i add
that i'm sensitive about it, and maybe
the superficial part of me is allowed to exist, anyway,
who the fuck seriously wants to be god? he's a rapist.
north shore is rocky and pastel houses for people
housing souls older, further ahead in enlightenment
than that which i host. two hundred, at least.
that's me on the south shore i'm taking pictures of, dragging my allergic ass across master's carpet.
masturbating to being careless before being careless didn't suit me anymore
and i refused to fuck anymore.
this is how i want. look at me look at me little miss visceral.
this is how i fuck deep down inside my heart.
Friday, March 10, 2017
Saturday, March 4, 2017
it's in the school
my family must be worried
this is what it's like to be in a hostage situation
the rage is the thunder storm
baba yaga wears masks; they all wear masks
when exercising radicalist uniformity
my idol keeps me alive. who am i to judge.
i'm feeling disappointed
it is all so boring, and, i hope
they like me. i hope i could be the one
they'd let get away alive, seeing
hope in me. being seduced.
seeing the goddess. seeing britney spears.
i refuse to tell her
i believe in god
even though i do
i am turning this into a movie, called "columbine",
and hoping i look good- stacey, sixteen years old, white and helpless
i took off my shirt, more stagefright
than pure fear; hoping i look right, hoping
i pass as coy, and that
it is sensual, and that sensual means "love potion".
there is a war of urgency
so too i enter the polarized, desperate body, perhaps
my ideas stick, so are revolutionary; no, not ideology
ideology is for suckers, henceforth, crucified.
i know revolution as language, and am fluent.
i don't know what words other languages cover
that this does not.
Saturday, February 25, 2017
Friday, February 24, 2017
let magick be tiny. let me find power in smallness, in non-giving, in a sense.
let me shrink to naivety so this will not come back to me.
let this be the part of me that feels good to let out
as it all gets muddied and confounded in secrecy-
sacred fire that gets sick of me denying its rights, so
spontaneously possessing me
until i release it
and wildfire is the world.
once it's banished, my bared feet understanding the earth
let me believe all fire justified
just for now; this being
the aspect with pistols and perfect tits, who i salute
when i wear all black- one could say
i'm a trick that's been turned.
that girl is the only friend that counts
and she lives in caves
and is in love with nihilism, if that makes sense,
resists persuasion, does not read, does not
get shy, admits fucking makes people look stupid, only eats dirt
has never spoken a word
has never looked at the stars.
is she crow? well, she looks human, to me. perhaps
humans will morph in the future
as humans have been morphed before.
i am under her wing
when i'm with her, you are intimidated by us both
raping your dreams
the ones you wake up blocking out, or interpreting
to exhaustive, or declaring
you've just experienced nightmare.
this is the girl
born of that boy
that boy who was the boy who taught her
though, missed out on me
and i was kind enough
to let him get away with his crimes, his forgetting me
raping my dreams, which we must have
to acknowledge fire.
stay vehicular, shielded
"dissociation", don't want them to think i fancy i know shit.
now things are getting harmonious
trying to let go of intrusive thought
for days, a new one- over not remembering a word
doing my best- but don't you wanna fail?
of course i do, but i can be mindful of it, so it's all good, plus i'm fat and ugly anyway.
talk to the punks
practically asking for it, "mohawks" up, please
walk up to me, i
expand my aura to invite you in. the virus
of missed opportunities
you know i'm letting this be your birthday
and i like your sister better than you. you do know that, right?
and drift off
watch your birthday candles
let your breath
let the wish
it is your manifestation, your experience is.
law of attraction when you can't handle it
unless displacing it. when displacing, you can be okay
with the universe throwing anything you can handle at you.
let the oven
with nothing inside
let the birthday
let the imagine they abuse me very hardcore
let the magick prince
you will yourself to do, i'm only a boy
that drags a brick (whose name is daddy, the poem
to make a flag
from its bones)
and a ball and chain. i raped you
and everything happens for a reason.
stop cooking and accept yourself
a guesthouse for demons;
know your evil- nobody opens the fridge's door
except you. stop painting-
nobody cares unless you force them to. you don't
want to be alone in your caring, neither
does daddy, nor
let the food rot 'kuz that's what you know you really want deep inside anyway, to
is this the poem that will cure anger, magick spell
to release it, better off
expectations not be met, anyway-
is it one pansexual, asexual, polyamorous, or just
regular misguided? i am all of the above at eight years of age
with a bloodied nose
and a puppy i murdered
and perfect fucking grammar asshole
telling the literary establishment i know better than "they" do
in their realm-keeping. the people that i love most
are too good for paying attention to our relationships- natural selection
is instinctual, so no judgement, outside of catharsis.
i'll be reliable no matter what, so you can all neglect our relationships
to go on regarding me as you would a therapist
and insist it's because of all my therapists
who i guess speak through me.
i'm only a bully and only i don't know it but know it.
someone is gonna think i'm confused. it's one of those train wrecks you don't stop yourself from looking at, or
talking shit about afterward. nobody is gonna ask if i'm okay
and if they do
i won't feel touched like how i wanna.
i only spend all of my time pressuring myself to not pressure myself, and i have my father's love
and my molestor has the life i'd like to have
because it is not mine.
it climbed on top and never sought a withdrawal.
saying, "don't touch me," was not threatening. elegant of me to engage in passive resistance; i value my integrity.
clearly, i've never roamed the streets.
Thursday, February 9, 2017
Saturday, January 28, 2017
and replace it with that of the lamp
i'd unplugged for my own. acknowledge balancing
as a delicate thing to do, something that calls for many steps.
apologizing is political, acting
upon awareness is, at least, a response. it involves.
my dog out. turn the porch light on for him.
talk about him.
let you know it's my dog that brings me joy, and is my guardian
in that way.
when i go to bring myself joy i lose my sight, so i don't know how i look in this respect. so that means i didn't feel joy when it happened.
i know a monster
like how my stomach is showing.
say i'm going to learn from it
because i'd like to be a good listener.
are what i keep safe
and what keeps me a mother.
of the fruit tree he cried under
Friday, January 27, 2017
Saturday, January 21, 2017
crimethinc. has been so responsible a catalyst for much of my daring, and my curiosity in freedom, that i shamelessly deify my love by binding their (?) words in quotes, in spite of a shared stance against "intellectual property". it's an expression from myself as a child being taught to moralize, through persistent shaming- who demands freedom.
i do not know my self, and my exploration of life through it, without the echo of personified impressions.
Friday, January 20, 2017
please traverse the catalogue at the site to see what options are available as far as stuff one can acquire that my visual works would be printed on. the prices are reasonable, in my opinion.
Wednesday, January 18, 2017
please check it out if you'd like to, and thanks.
Sunday, January 8, 2017
"Sexual desire is not a desire for sensations. It is a desire for a person: and I mean a person, not his or her body, conceived as an object in the physical world, but the person conceived as an incarnate subject, in whom the light of self-consciousness shines and who confronts me eye to eye, and I to I.