Monday, August 30, 2010
Cartoid
Friday, August 13, 2010
Lady Bluestocking
Lady Bluestocking gave her life for tourism
Oh poor lady, she sat there all day long to entertain. The boys-of-the-village would come and Lady would shoo them away with a handkerchief or send her dogs.
Society men would call and laugh, put her in a place she did not fit. Either that or they were drawn away to her more attractive and appeasing guests with X chromosomes.
Lady Bluestocking was surrounded by thousands of books by men she could never meet and hundreds who would never meet her.
But it was enough, it was enough to fill her with a fire that inspired the great Lady to sit in that room day in and day out, taking tea and two meals before retiring to a room that nobody visited.
She died in the reading room, in the presence of some Company, fairly indistinguishable from any others she entertained.
They say she gripped a Plato in her hand and nobody could get it loose, they had to cut holes in her dress so they could get it past that damned tome and get her looking presentable. Up in that little oaken box, filled with red velvet and pale skin, which was hardly more pale or cold than it had ever been historically.
grip
shaking hands with Captain Carter and a light comes on
i'll drag all my LP's out to the front yard and grind them into the walk with my heel
tear up all the tapes and tell my mother to never show your picture again
i'll visit every spot we ever shared and form new associations
all to spite you or all to improve? where does the difference lie?
i'm gonna grip your arm
and tell you to get one of your own
if you could feel my head right now
if you could see the soles of my shoes
if you could smell your breath you'd never kiss me again
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
so messed up
i've been sitting up straight all day
so baby let's get bent
i wanna hunch and slump with you
up and down the halls
i hear the neighbors banging on the wall
have them turn up the disco because the doctor's out
and i've gotta jive just one more time
my joints are gonna pop and crack til the early morning dawns
then i'll look around for a heating pad or something
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
precipice
standing out on the harrowing precipice holding something sweet in his hand
he screams and yells, damning your fucking name demanding a confrontation
staring deep down, searching for the rumored fear
determined to stare down the crazy hellish behemoth he faced in years gone by
a long way away he hears the fair and cant figure which was the last experience
screams himself sore looks back sits down checks the watch and all he wants is something to lean up against
Saturday, August 7, 2010
island day
to-day is island day, the day when we honor those stalwart men
my friends and ladies pour into the street to sing the praise, tossing confetti as they scream
the parade goes on for miles, coagulating traffic on each and every block
try as they might, the celebrators never reach a shore, let alone connect any two
and as the cameras flash and people scream the islands sit
they sit and think, or draw, or cry or eat whatever it is they do
maybe someday you'll build a boat
do they know and do they care? why would you even ask?