August 2012
39 posts
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what do you call and say to people when you are in hell? what do you write to say to people when you are in hell? nothing there are no words hell has eaten them all and dreams, desires, beauties? is it possible to give birth to such gifts only to watch them all suffer and drown in the anger of hell? no, not at all those things too are left for the livers, the less broken
July 2012
76 posts
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the desolations are out in the open today and some of them have been given pointing names i have come to step quickly into the darkness and speak my name aloud: weakness i speak the unspoken syllables of my unbreakable other names (dumbfucker, pussy, asshole) and the eyes of friends begin the journey towards indifference in distance in distance they condone my broken heart which cannot bear to be...
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somecallmeaction replied to your post: there has been a man BEHIND me since i was little…
So powerful! I feel it. Kick that guys ass!
that’s definitely on my fuckit list :)
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there has been a man BEHIND me since i was little accusing me of YOU LIKE IT well, i’ll tell you this now, I DO NOT LIKE IT AT ALL i do not now i never ever did so take your mouth away from my ear and remove your god-like largesse from casting a shadow over my desire to not fear whoever you are, wherever you are, keep the emptiness and darkness they are gifts i have opened and much used but now i...
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thiswrittensilence replied to your post: you’ve got quite the gaping hole here, son i’m not…
This was incredbile and so multi-dimensional … absolutely a cool piece and a freedom within it that I have never known in my own writing x wonderful x
redchundri replied to your post: you’ve got quite the gaping hole here, son i’m not…
Omg. I LOVE this!
thank you both so very much :)...
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you’ve got quite the gaping hole here, son i’m not gonna lie i don’t like your odds what do we do next? how do we fix it? first step never get on that horse again second run like hell if she doesn’t know you’re alive yet she will soon enough any woman that can do that with a fork didn’t set her hatred on stun how in god’s name did that even happen?...
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doctor medic, i am bereft this gaping hole in me that refuses to close good kindly heart, stick a wad of love in there it’ll soak up all the blood and you can wear white again
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31.
longandbitter:
I will keep loving
until I have nothing left,
then I will love more.
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thiswrittensilence replied to your post: when i got out of the hospital, it was all still…
Oh my how I relate to this piece, I love it and its powerful simplicity, Cord. This is awesome, truly. xx
thank you for your wonderfully kind words :)
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to feel more whole than hole
(inspired by this)
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when i got out of the hospital, it was all still horrid and i was such an ugly fucker so i stopped saying i love you at all which forced them to stop saying it too and darkness grew the unvoice of eating the only words that can sometimes make it all ok i’ll pay for that until i’m very very old
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thank you for your boundless patience with me last night as usual i didn’t know how much i needed your voice in my ear until it was there and i was lost in it your vibrationally loving intonations less than three-ing ellipses so freeing up and down my spine these are the bumps no goose can claim this is the dark no hurt can shame before you found me i was a foundling in the deepest forest...
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Push-in A Vowel Movement
pedanticpersiflage:
Yo mamma’s
Ugly Ass
Only
Insists On
Experiencing
Anal.
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trixclibrarian replied to your post: i like your you and the smiley thing you do with…
love this & the inspiration - swoon - you kickass
thank you kindly, word-studded book slinger :)
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i like your you and the smiley thing you do with your mouth and the sparkly thing you have deep in the middle of your eyes the one on the left is just a bit blue-er and the one on the right leans towards red but in the middle pow wham boom purple loveliness just spewing from your head
(inspired by this)
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inside me it feels like an upside-down bottle that has been swirled for draining all of the fluid and everything in me is racing around and around creating a vacuous ache through my center i feel so empty right now so alone at a certain but indefinable remove from the warmth of others march nearly emptied me
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today i rolled over into the shadow of where we were i’m vacant and cored (my middle has been forcibly removed) that’s not so hard to admit
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i am written without conjunctions nothing is joined i am pieces (just pieces) which cannot regard the whole that is not sometimes i get distracted by the landscape of a word (its syllabic vibration or stillness, the way it entices me to say things i do not mean or understand) i feel slightly forced into alliance with language (sometimes even my language) which neither dispels...
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Pillow
by Li-Young Lee
There's nothing I can't find under there.
Voices in the trees, the missing pages
of the sea.
Everything but sleep.
And night is a river bridging
the speaking and the listening banks,
a fortress, undefended and inviolate.
There's nothing that won't fit under it:
fountains clogged with mud and leaves,
the houses of my childhood.
And night begins when my mother's...
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The Hour and What Is Dead
by Li-Young Lee
Tonight my brother, in heavy boots, is walking
through bare rooms over my head,
opening and closing doors.
What could he be looking for in an empty house?
What could he possibly need there in heaven?
Does he remember his earth, his birthplace set to torches?
His love for me feels like spilled water
running back to its vessel.
At this hour, what is dead...
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eyezoffyre replied to your post: it’s about vulnerability what will smother a…
wow, extraordinary way of describing this feeling.. i love it
thank you so very much for your kind words :)
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thiswrittensilence replied to your video: if outkast were a skinny (ice cold), white dude :p
this shit really was a mindfuck honestly it was awesome
that kid had me rolling the WHOLE time. the first time i watched it i had no idea he was going to do both parts. then he just busted it out. super kudos to that guy :)
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let’s break it down: con = with sum = i am er = the sound of being flummoxed errrrrrrrr … thusly, with i am the sound of being flummoxed ad nauseum? in perpetuity? i think, for the most part, that i have turned into errrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
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pedanticpersiflage replied to your post: it’s about vulnerability what will smother a…
Nice work man! Love that third stanza especially!
thank you kindly, good sir. the third is the word :)
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it’s about vulnerability what will smother a person? not weakness, it has nothing to do with physical strength like the place my eyes go when i’m walking and they trace the ground, when i sit and they trace the edges of the tile in search of a pattern or a way to make sense of this toiling and blindness i need a way to build it up inside and frame my own visions
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The Dirty Word
The dirty word hops in the cage of the mind like the Pondicherry vulture, stomping with its heavy claw on the sweet meat of the brain and tearing it with its vicious beak, ripping and chopping the flesh. Terrified, the small boy bears the big bird of the dirty word into the house, and, grunting, puffing, carries it up the stairs to his own room in the skull. Bits of black feather cling to his...
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doodlemedead replied to your post: dear broken and sinking, it would seem that you…
I enjoy the letter format. SMILES TIMES.
thanks much. i can’t even begin to recall why they came out that way. i suppose it’s easier to write to pain than to punch it (yourself) in the face :)
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i tumbled myself headlong into the under shrouded by the echo of a nightmare why is the red cross on her helmet upside-down? and should that little boy be allowed to run with a corkscrew between his teeth? only to startle awake with that corkscrew in my hand and an empty wine bottle where my pillow should have been then i thought charles bukowski, you crafty bastard i should have known this was...
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“I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear
of falling or catching...”
– ― Dawna Markova, I Will Not Die an Unlived Life: Reclaiming Purpose and Passion
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dear broken and sinking, it would seem that you have also forgotten the part of our dance where i take my leave for a short while and you willingly embrace me upon my return that is your blood on my boots i peeled the laces off of your neck so i wouldn’t have to find some other place to live i have only ever been your misery the i’s on that typewriter are your own collected from the...
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dear lost all hope, like so many others probably i came looking for that one last piece of information to hold out in front of me that would tip the weight of it all and send me headlong into the abyss what i found instead was something entirely other to this day i cannot say what it was the calm reason of fact the lack of any clear bias against my pain and suffering whatever it was i have lived...
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tansheer replied to your post: i watch the blink of an airplane climb and get…
hug?
thank you kindly :)
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i watch the blink of an airplane climb and get lost behind that house i am disappointed through the middle tonight and a familiar tiredness is on me then i remember the plane and figure it should be rising above the house just now there it is in the dapple between the leaves of our maple tree i reach out to it for a god of heat and light, a god that can hurl behemoth metal tubes i begin to chant...
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dear feeling like shit thank you for the typewriter i see you even changed it to the screaming red ribbon and switched all the other keys to i since i can’t see beyond myself at this point anyway you’re right if i turn the paper a little this way and a little that i can still make it say i kill i which is close enough right graciously in chains this is why we don’t want
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roggyscanvas replied to your post: i have been visited by the ghost of a blunk you…
Blunk lol. I liked ‘fox of fire’ — might steal that from ya
we kept trying to figure out what that chat sound was. that was the one we settled on :) steal away, good sir.
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i have been visited by the ghost of a blunk you are tucked in sleeping sweetly the fox of fire is nestled in dreaming softly yet here i am mind alert and needful of you still so i call out to you as i call out from myself in a language familiar to the hours our fingers spend talking to each other in your sleep i blunk you
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“The sun belongs to us all,” Brother Andre said, “and we reflect its...”
– ~Pearl S. Buck from the book Pavilion of Women
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trixclibrarian replied to your post: dear feeling like shit, thank you for putting your…
Cord, these are so powerful and painful and somehow retain a smart* sense of humor. such big love for your words, man. (note the vocative - again! twice - beginning and end :p )
bracketed by the vocative :) thank you for your kind words, o tricksy one. your words are quite appreciated as well.
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dear feeling like shit, thank you for putting your boots on my pillow i had almost forgotten that part of our little dance they were such a mess the laces looked like someone had used them to strangle themselves so i replaced them and burned the evidence there were a lot of stains that looked like blood you must have been busy in your time away i knew there were others i just hoped what we had was...
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dear feeling like shit, hell, yeah, you can come for a visit it has to have been what three or four days since the last time we really hung out i was even thinking about maybe getting back up on my feet again luckily here you are letter in hand bags packed for what looks like a nice, long stay you’re room’s right where it’s always been smack in the middle of my brain why...
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security is a myth we shamelessly propagate generation after generation not only as fact but also as holy, sanctified birthright we illuse ourselves into believing that we can perhaps buy or work our way into some, even if only slight, sense of safety all the while hating the knowing, deep beneath the illusion, that the crush and rapery of the world are coming for us and ours and that we shall not...
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excerpts from Arts & Sciences
SOLID GEOMETRY Here’s a nice thought we can save: The luckiest thing about sex Is: you happen to be so concave In the very same place I’m convex. BOTANY Your thighs always blossomed like orchids, You had rose hips when we danced, But the question that always baffled me was: How can I get into those plants? GEOGRAPHY Russian you would be deplorable, But your Lapland is simply...
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when i was seven, wrong came the darkeners with their twisted penises to blot out the sun and rid me of the distasteful misillusion of safety forever more which would account for a lot of the reckless sex and self-immolation, having confused sex with death (consensual vulnerability) for the better part of my life i wanted only always to be loved and to feel needed i needed only always to be felt...
