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FraterAnarkhos
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Name: Jesse
Birthday: 2/4/1989
Gender: Male


Interests: Things that cause me to not sit in front of a computer screen
Expertise: Hmm... Nothing yet, I dont' think. Does making people cringe count?
Occupation: Government
Industry: Textiles


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Yahoo: kamakatsu


Member Since: 7/5/2004

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Thursday, April 12, 2007

Currently Listening
We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank
By Modest Mouse
see related

Unnamed as of yet

So, it's been well over a month since I've posted anything now, mostly just because I've been not really writing.  Fortunately, I've had a number of pieces congeal recently.  This one is just finished.  Doubtless needs some fine tuning, but it's been a while...

Were dandelions always weeds?
Back before urban decimation,
concrete desecration
were they just flowers, sewing their seeds?
Before you had to be able to grow
in a six inch space between sidewalks,
before you had to thrive on soil that could pass as ash
were they so overwhelming, so overbearing?
Before natural selection gave way
to let the pushy humans have their say,
before acid rain and poison spray,
lumberjacks, highways, factory farms,
before nuclear plants and nuclear arms,
before our genes were mutated and divorced,
having signed papers and split the debt equally,
one got the car, one the tv
were they just part of the spectrum of forest vegetation
adorning the toes of the trees?

Were dandelions always so undesirable
before they were everywhere,
the only plant able to consistently withstand human assault.
Back before we came up with our potent poisons,
weed control and hoes,
did they sprawl endlessly across the land, an army,
stomping out all that grows?
Were they unkempt and uncountable?
Were they savage and relentless?
Were they unbound and contentless?
Or did they grow happily with the roses and lilies?
Did people see their amber waves of gold with the finest silken blooms
and not think that it looked silly?
Back before we weeded out everything else
to make room for our concrete to flourish,
were they unsatiably hungry,
or were they gently nourished?

What I’m saying is,
is this a problem that we’re solving,
or is it of our creation
are we solving the earth’s deformity
or soliciting grotesque mutation?
Were dandelions ever an uncontrollable problem
before they were the only things that withstand the concrete massacre
Was Jezebel ever a harlot,
before being cast in that role,
does a mountain goat ever have to worry about flooding
if he never digs a hole?

Are guns the solution to the war melodrama
or are they the star?
Are we seeing more of the world
by staring at the inside of a car?
Did the dandelion ever do anything so wrong
as to be purged from this earth,
other than merely survive where others have suffocated
underneath that nasty human girth?


Thursday, March 08, 2007

Currently Listening
10,000 Days
By Tool
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Gutwrenching (more bored musings)

Life’s been dancing a peacock flame,
but lately I’ve been pretty content to just sit back
and let it dance by.
Underneath the tyranny of this ring of numbers
crown of thorns counting the wasted seconds
as if they were the crumpled sheets of passionless poems
or tissues spilling out of all seams of the house.
How many National Geographic specials can you watch
before they give you a degree?
Is anyone else aware that cheetahs have a thirty foot stride?
They might as well be flying.

The inner ring of purgatory has
pointy hands.
The inner ring of purgatory has
beady eyed mice that you find exploring the house
     in the middle of the night
The inner ring of purgatory has
reverberations of new year’s that have you waking up in the
      middle of the night wanting to die.
And wondering what the fuck?
Like, I let that shit go a long time ago,
moved onto bigger and better things,
but
that name still catches in the back of my throat
a hairball of razorwire and crazy glue
sharp as the hands of the clock.

Monotony is the worst kind of torture,
because it’s so painful,
but it’s so hard to write about.
Don’t ever let yourself think that boredom isn’t deadly.
Just ask the guy that jumped out the third story window
to see if it would be interesting.
Or the kid that plays arcade games ‘til he throws up
     for that matter.
How long can you type before your fingers
     merge to the keyboard,
and how long can you stare at that screen before
the catatonic schizophrenia becomes permanent,
and how many times can you stay in bed all day,
just because there’s nothing to do
before dreams start becoming hard to distinguish from reality,
wait...
I’m pretty sure that happened long ago.

Nah,
then maybe shit would be more interesting,
and I'm learning
that the cast would be far more
gutwrenching


Thursday, March 01, 2007

Some Random Thoughts

I haven't been writing poetry very much lately.  My emotions have been far too level.

And by that I mean I haven't been writing at all for a while.

Sleep is a unicorn these days.

Ginsberg's Ballad of the Skeletons basically kicks mighty ass.
                                "Says the Nancy Drew Skeleton:  Just say no!"
                                 "Says the Rasta Skeleton:  Blow, Nancy, Blow!"
Need I say more?

No-handed cartwheels are a helluva lot harder to do than front flips, I don't care what anyone says.

I wish I was asleep.

I haven't been this sore from kung-fu in fuck knows how long.

People are making way too big a deal about the whole Obama not being a slave thing.

Sinead O'connor is way underrated.

Sleep is certainly not overrated.


Thursday, February 15, 2007

Hazy Quetzecoatl

Spiderweb bed canopy curtain
tangled web of limpbs akimbo
World War Three of skin cells
amid a battle ground of
regurgitated sheets

Wraith shadows dancing with wraith
Victorian lamplight
Tango
Hazy how did I get here?
Wraith body writhing
somewhere between snake and
the smoke rising off of an incense stick

Graceful gliding slithering
nimble aerial ballet across our lovewar
hiss hisssssssing a warcry
phosphorescent, evanescent
Innards wrought with uneasiness, but
electric serpent scale touch's got my outer layer feeling grand

Coiled around me
some sort of fragrant
ecstatic gas
expanding, exploring
orifices and curves
graceful gas hiss hissssssssing
setting off nerve endings like landmines
censer serpent censer serpent
Neon Quetzecoatl
slither-gliding into my lungs

Hazy how did I get here?
This posh house on the lake
instead of the streets of KC
Life's really fucking weird.


Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Firewalker

If you can walk on fire,
then water should be a breeze, no?
Water won't even bite back,
won't even burn you.
Water just accepts your soles with diaphanous grace
the Buddha's eyes on the earth,
compassionate serenity
loving acceptance.

I was tightrope walking
across this lake of melancholy
with my fossil heart
and gasoline in my veins
Until you prowled in
flashing your Beltane bonfire smile
and your neon sign eyes
with your firewalker poise,
and melted the ice
so carelessly.

At first I didn't fret, because I know how to swim.
I know how to swim pretty damned well.
I didn't anticipate hypothermia.

Well, I guess that when I was scared of falling
and you assured me you'd catch me
I took for granted that you meant
like the ocean catches raindrops
not
like gas catches fire.



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