I wish I could intoxicate
U like I used to
With words & songs &
dreams of passion
Variant mood
somber
sublime
& a 3 ring tractor pull
of diamond dowries
if I could dance back the world
to a moment &
spin it slower to watch u smile
I’d hold your heart
and listen to the symphony
of your breath
till it drunkened me
& I could be as intoxicated
by u as you were
by me…
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Stones in my Dome
Stones in my dome of both fire and ice
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
As they crash and they smash and they bash ev’rything
I reach for my bottle of sweet as-per-ring.
Blinded by sight as I search for the dark
I'm driven by pain, when I just want to park
Can I lay on my face for a bit just to dream?
But a whisper grows crisper until I just scream
The flood of the blood flowing warn through my veins
Is a thundering herd on a bisonous range
And try as I might to just silence the roar,
The growling and prowling is all that’s in store…
Stones in my dome of both fire and ice
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
As they crash and they smash and they bash ev’rything
I reach for my bottle of sweet as-per-ring.
I think about softness and quiet and clouds
Instead I get buddy rich pounding out loud
The harder I focus to pinpoint relief,
The more I feel slam-danced by whole sides of beef.
The tiniest, shiniest things are the worst
But those are the things that my gaze seeks out first
They hodge-podge’ly lodge themselves into my pain
Then arrow, like sparrows, to nest in my brain
Like a call down the hall of the tallest of all abyss
I fall and I fall and I fall till I swing and I miss
Morphine’s kiss
Stones in my dome of both fire and ice
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
As they crash and they smash and they bash ev’rything
I reach for my bottle and still I will sing…
Stones in my dome of both fire and ice
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
I’d pay for release, but I don’t know the price.
These stones, bounce around like spiked carnival dice
And I’ve crapped out…
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
As they crash and they smash and they bash ev’rything
I reach for my bottle of sweet as-per-ring.
Blinded by sight as I search for the dark
I'm driven by pain, when I just want to park
Can I lay on my face for a bit just to dream?
But a whisper grows crisper until I just scream
The flood of the blood flowing warn through my veins
Is a thundering herd on a bisonous range
And try as I might to just silence the roar,
The growling and prowling is all that’s in store…
Stones in my dome of both fire and ice
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
As they crash and they smash and they bash ev’rything
I reach for my bottle of sweet as-per-ring.
I think about softness and quiet and clouds
Instead I get buddy rich pounding out loud
The harder I focus to pinpoint relief,
The more I feel slam-danced by whole sides of beef.
The tiniest, shiniest things are the worst
But those are the things that my gaze seeks out first
They hodge-podge’ly lodge themselves into my pain
Then arrow, like sparrows, to nest in my brain
Like a call down the hall of the tallest of all abyss
I fall and I fall and I fall till I swing and I miss
Morphine’s kiss
Stones in my dome of both fire and ice
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
As they crash and they smash and they bash ev’rything
I reach for my bottle and still I will sing…
Stones in my dome of both fire and ice
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
I’d pay for release, but I don’t know the price.
These stones, bounce around like spiked carnival dice
And I’ve crapped out…
Saturday, February 12, 2011
smoke in her hand...
Sitting on the curb, rock salt at her feet,
She’s the prettiest girl that u could never ever meet.
She’s the prettiest girl that u could never ever meet,
Because she doesn’t even really exist.
Right there on the curb with a smoke in her hand,
With a smoke in her hand, she’s making a plan.
But she never flicks the ashes from the smoke in her hand
‘cause it isn’t even there in her fist.
Blink of an eye and she’s gone from this world.
Blink of an eye and I don’t see a girl
Not a girl on the curb with a smoke in her hand
So I guess that she could not have been missed.
So the curb and the air, the rock salt and the stare
That’s the stare at a girl who was never even there
With a smoke in her hand and a plan and a care
Was she there? Or had it all just been wished?
She’s the prettiest girl that u could never ever meet.
She’s the prettiest girl that u could never ever meet,
Because she doesn’t even really exist.
Right there on the curb with a smoke in her hand,
With a smoke in her hand, she’s making a plan.
But she never flicks the ashes from the smoke in her hand
‘cause it isn’t even there in her fist.
Blink of an eye and she’s gone from this world.
Blink of an eye and I don’t see a girl
Not a girl on the curb with a smoke in her hand
So I guess that she could not have been missed.
So the curb and the air, the rock salt and the stare
That’s the stare at a girl who was never even there
With a smoke in her hand and a plan and a care
Was she there? Or had it all just been wished?
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Disgusting Drinks for Designated Drivers
There was a period in my life where every Friday and Saturday night involved me driving lotsa inebriated cohorts home from various soirees. All of this commuting caused me to build up quite the thirst, however since I knew I was gonna be DD’ing my night away I never ‘sipped the sauce’.
This did not keep me from having an interesting night of libation consumption of my own. I used to entertain myself by evaluating what side dish-mixers were available and mingling up some elixirs of my own design.
In my heart, I know that none of these will land me a starring role on Food Network as honestly, most of these turned out to be rather revolting (hence the name of this post), but some of them surprised with their tastiness.
I recently came across an old journal where I’d kept a listing of these concoctions. I will share these creations with you today. I believe that I consumed each of these at least once (some more than once). I will not try to sway you by confessing which ones were proven to be palatable, discovering this information on your own is 78% of the fun. The resulting 22% is derived from enticing a nearby trusting soul into trying one that revealed itself to be extra foul. But, I wash my hands of that. That’s all on you.
And now on with the list:
Lecherous Monk = Coke + OJ
Sweaty Dog = sweet tea + 7-up + dash of salt
Bitter Biscuit = Dr. Pepper + OJ
Bitter Bagel = Dr. Pepper + Sunny D
Skinny Cat = Sprite + OJ
Skinny Rat = Sprite + Sunny D
Bushy Foot = crushed pineapple + maraschino cherry juice + soda of choice
Shinsplint = grapefruit juice + grape soda (with a sugared rim)
Sock Butt = Coke + Kool-ade (any flavor) + Sunny D
Fat Hagget = tspn of honey + coke + water + dash of salt
Horny Nun = coke + Sunny D
Bloody Yak = maraschino cherry juice + OJ + olive
Sweet Rabbit = Coke + water + lemon juice
Hoesmack = Nehi(yes it must be Nehi) peach soda + OJ
Lacy’s Southside Hoe = tomato juice + brown sugar*
*(ok, somebody else came up with this one so I never tasted it)
The building blocks of these gastronomic behemoths included whatever was lying about at the various social gatherings. I challenge you all to addend this list with non-alcoholic sublimations of your own. Perhaps if I can amass enough of them…just perhaps Food Network will take notice.
This did not keep me from having an interesting night of libation consumption of my own. I used to entertain myself by evaluating what side dish-mixers were available and mingling up some elixirs of my own design.
In my heart, I know that none of these will land me a starring role on Food Network as honestly, most of these turned out to be rather revolting (hence the name of this post), but some of them surprised with their tastiness.
I recently came across an old journal where I’d kept a listing of these concoctions. I will share these creations with you today. I believe that I consumed each of these at least once (some more than once). I will not try to sway you by confessing which ones were proven to be palatable, discovering this information on your own is 78% of the fun. The resulting 22% is derived from enticing a nearby trusting soul into trying one that revealed itself to be extra foul. But, I wash my hands of that. That’s all on you.
And now on with the list:
Lecherous Monk = Coke + OJ
Sweaty Dog = sweet tea + 7-up + dash of salt
Bitter Biscuit = Dr. Pepper + OJ
Bitter Bagel = Dr. Pepper + Sunny D
Skinny Cat = Sprite + OJ
Skinny Rat = Sprite + Sunny D
Bushy Foot = crushed pineapple + maraschino cherry juice + soda of choice
Shinsplint = grapefruit juice + grape soda (with a sugared rim)
Sock Butt = Coke + Kool-ade (any flavor) + Sunny D
Fat Hagget = tspn of honey + coke + water + dash of salt
Horny Nun = coke + Sunny D
Bloody Yak = maraschino cherry juice + OJ + olive
Sweet Rabbit = Coke + water + lemon juice
Hoesmack = Nehi(yes it must be Nehi) peach soda + OJ
Lacy’s Southside Hoe = tomato juice + brown sugar*
*(ok, somebody else came up with this one so I never tasted it)
The building blocks of these gastronomic behemoths included whatever was lying about at the various social gatherings. I challenge you all to addend this list with non-alcoholic sublimations of your own. Perhaps if I can amass enough of them…just perhaps Food Network will take notice.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Been a Long Time...
chorus:
- been a long time comin' home to you
- been a long time comin' home to you
- got the sun on my back, the moon on my face
- wind in my hair, the rain in it's place
- been a long time comin' home to you
I left the summer of my winter home
people waved as I left, but didn't notice I was gone
I set adrift in a tree top
as I struggled down hill, hit the gas so I could stop
disappeared from a photograph
as I lost everything that i never ever had
packed a pocketfull of emptiness
made a blindfold of memories to organize my mess
- [chorus]
walked free from a locked cage
and I found alot of peace as I focused on my rage
won a chance on a sure thing
ate a hand full of bees just to listen to the sweet sting
spun a globe in my mind's eye
and I named each city as I watched it pass by
all roads lead to somewhere
but the places that they lead to are places I don't care for
- [chorus]
- been a long time comin' home to you
- been a long time comin' home to you
- got the sun on my back, the moon on my face
- wind in my hair, the rain in it's place
- been a long time comin' home to you
I left the summer of my winter home
people waved as I left, but didn't notice I was gone
I set adrift in a tree top
as I struggled down hill, hit the gas so I could stop
disappeared from a photograph
as I lost everything that i never ever had
packed a pocketfull of emptiness
made a blindfold of memories to organize my mess
- [chorus]
walked free from a locked cage
and I found alot of peace as I focused on my rage
won a chance on a sure thing
ate a hand full of bees just to listen to the sweet sting
spun a globe in my mind's eye
and I named each city as I watched it pass by
all roads lead to somewhere
but the places that they lead to are places I don't care for
- [chorus]
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
...so there I was...#7: 'the chick of destiny'
…so there I was, handcuffed to destiny. That’s destiny, not Destiny; I was not handcuffed to somebody named Destiny.
I Was handcuffed to somebody named Hank. At least that’s the name she gave the state trooper. I'm not saying that she was lying. We were back to back so I hadn’t seen her, but something about the way she’d said, “Well…some folks call me, Hank” made me have my doubts.
As the trooper walked away, I could feel her pressing back against me like she was up to something. I was hoping so.
Her hair fell across my shoulders; emerald green with blonde highlights over the left and a deep auburn with just a tint of purple over the right.
She lurched and I heard something full of small parts crash to the ground near us.
And then her voice, quiet and deliberate, was pouring into my left ear.
“Look”, she said, ”it’s been real, but it’s about time I get going on my way; but it don’t mean I don’t love you. Things are probably gonna get a little loud here in a minute and u might get a little hurt.”
Later, I thought that this woulda been a perfect time to have joked that you always hurt the ones you love. But honestly, I’d never met this person before now, and plus I was a little too curious about what was about to happen when things got, as she put it, “loud.” So I just sat quietly and listened.
“For what’s probably about to happen to you, I'm gonna go ahead and say this this the only time I ever will…I'm sorry.”
That was 8 months ago and she’s never said those 2 words again. Sure, there have been many times when she probably should have said them, but after all we’ve been through, she doesn’t have to.
I Was handcuffed to somebody named Hank. At least that’s the name she gave the state trooper. I'm not saying that she was lying. We were back to back so I hadn’t seen her, but something about the way she’d said, “Well…some folks call me, Hank” made me have my doubts.
As the trooper walked away, I could feel her pressing back against me like she was up to something. I was hoping so.
Her hair fell across my shoulders; emerald green with blonde highlights over the left and a deep auburn with just a tint of purple over the right.
She lurched and I heard something full of small parts crash to the ground near us.
And then her voice, quiet and deliberate, was pouring into my left ear.
“Look”, she said, ”it’s been real, but it’s about time I get going on my way; but it don’t mean I don’t love you. Things are probably gonna get a little loud here in a minute and u might get a little hurt.”
Later, I thought that this woulda been a perfect time to have joked that you always hurt the ones you love. But honestly, I’d never met this person before now, and plus I was a little too curious about what was about to happen when things got, as she put it, “loud.” So I just sat quietly and listened.
“For what’s probably about to happen to you, I'm gonna go ahead and say this this the only time I ever will…I'm sorry.”
That was 8 months ago and she’s never said those 2 words again. Sure, there have been many times when she probably should have said them, but after all we’ve been through, she doesn’t have to.
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