I dont do acquaintnces
I wont do plastic smiles
I dont giv fals hugs
& wi u Im not able 2 pretend
so regrtfully I must inform u,
my usta-b-close now formr friend,
our assciation is presntly cum 2 an end.
Tha it is so @ your behest,
is assurdly best,
relieves th pressure off
th tension of lost luv
& neithr of us hereaftr
shall hav 2 wondr
where we stand wi th othr,
& thas no minor thing...
I know this is not eXctly wha u had in mind
whn u nudgd me snidly undr tha bus,
not necssarily th choice ud hav chosn 4 us,
2 part wi such finality, such ignoble ignominy...
but trust me its 4 th best this way,
th subcnscious powr struggl ovr
who left who, who now
holds th moral high ground,
who contacts who, why, how & when
where 4 art lie the boundries
btwn formr f**k friends...
...these will all cease 2 b @ issue,
far less worry 2 occupy our minds.
Tha life moves on is a givn
& thus I dont imagine youll
spend much enrgy wi sadnss;
although gladnss perhaps would not b
appropriate neithr, so 2 covr th bases
Ill hav a glass of 'passive indiffernce' 4 both of us,
non-alcoholic of course.
Tha I did luv u is undniable - ppl dont
hav 2 keep sharng orgasms 2 b in luv - &
I would hav blissfully, proudly gon on luvng u till
th last drop of lif rannth fr my cup.
I knw tha sounds funny cuming
fr some1 so far away
in both distnce & desire but as I say,
4 me luv need not b hitchd
2 th romntic nor merely 2 th agape...
I guess put thus
1 could c such a luv as condtional
& if so I guess Id b guilty as chargd,
I demnd tha my belovd accpt
me as I am & Ive certnly got my share of quirks (oh stop laughing!)
But in any case:
sayonara, au revoir, toot-a-loo,
tak care, bst wishes & good-bye!
I may not shed tears over it,
this is as close 2 a good cry
as I cld muster.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
New Jeans
the outlook today is high & mighty
sanitized by the cold winds of yesteryear,
thats them same old fears
born of childish wants & wears
and I stripped from those old clothes
so long ago, so long ago
sanitized by the cold winds of yesteryear,
thats them same old fears
born of childish wants & wears
and I stripped from those old clothes
so long ago, so long ago
The Best Thing (Or A Primer On How To Cope With Complete And Absolute Rejection From Someone You Thought You Loved)
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
would be to forget about you...
I saw your picture today
a flood of memories came
more than I had anticipated
I still feel the same...
like a lightenin' bug in
the bottle of a child
like the cliche of the
moth drawn to the fire
my heart still beat doubletime
whenever I imagine you and I,
so...
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
would be to forget about you...
foolish misunderstandings
combined with my immature ramblings
I'm the only one of your saviors
who could never save ya...
you're a dark pit of disillusion
anyone can see, because thats
all you allow yourself to be
but I swear I saw something
much more deep...
oh I saw and see so much beauty
across the years, miles and styles,
my memory is etched in now
but yellow and brown are the sounds
of despair you turn to when you're confused
and I wanted to take it all on with you
but you pushed me away so
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
would be to forget about you
will one day I find you by chance
dreaming in your sketchbook
in a cafe in Paris, France?
you may not recognize me by then
but I can assure you I'll still be your friend
can you comprehend? till we meet again
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
would be to forget about you
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
would be to forget about you...
I saw your picture today
a flood of memories came
more than I had anticipated
I still feel the same...
like a lightenin' bug in
the bottle of a child
like the cliche of the
moth drawn to the fire
my heart still beat doubletime
whenever I imagine you and I,
so...
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
would be to forget about you...
foolish misunderstandings
combined with my immature ramblings
I'm the only one of your saviors
who could never save ya...
you're a dark pit of disillusion
anyone can see, because thats
all you allow yourself to be
but I swear I saw something
much more deep...
oh I saw and see so much beauty
across the years, miles and styles,
my memory is etched in now
but yellow and brown are the sounds
of despair you turn to when you're confused
and I wanted to take it all on with you
but you pushed me away so
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
would be to forget about you
will one day I find you by chance
dreaming in your sketchbook
in a cafe in Paris, France?
you may not recognize me by then
but I can assure you I'll still be your friend
can you comprehend? till we meet again
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
would be to forget about you
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
French Fried
So yeah, we made it
like the rabbits do
And, um, sure u made me
that tomato salad one time...
well, ok, u showed me ur t*ts
online, I remember that too,
must I continue??
One thousand and one memories made
rendered Sunny Delite by
the squeeze of age
So don't remind me, OK?
I'm feeling particularly french fried
at the moment and
rest assured its not 'cause ur hot...
rather, it's that soggy
feelin' that come when a
man done cummed his last
for a piece a a** that
don't want his mustard
no more
like the rabbits do
And, um, sure u made me
that tomato salad one time...
well, ok, u showed me ur t*ts
online, I remember that too,
must I continue??
One thousand and one memories made
rendered Sunny Delite by
the squeeze of age
So don't remind me, OK?
I'm feeling particularly french fried
at the moment and
rest assured its not 'cause ur hot...
rather, it's that soggy
feelin' that come when a
man done cummed his last
for a piece a a** that
don't want his mustard
no more
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
The End Game
the hope of battles won & lost
on the battleground of love
for both lover and loved,
for victor & vanquished,
for enamored & unrequited,
is to exit the arena
(somewhat) more whole
rather than less than...
Its a fine wish but one
not often granted, and
for both sides...
For as they say:
"All's fair in love & war"
and them clashes yield
scar upon scar, even
for a winner, for a loved...
I myself have seen, thru
the vision of the heart,
that the pain born via
the very quest of love
- that unquenchable desire
come from the leaving of
the womb, the withdrawal
of the teet, the very first
cries of young life -
is an indelible pain that
does not fade with a
successful romantic campaign
but only evolves and transmutes
into the fear of loss
of the new 'possession' ...
and so never does it end,
this pursuit for a satiation
that will not come,
indeed cannot...
on the battleground of love
for both lover and loved,
for victor & vanquished,
for enamored & unrequited,
is to exit the arena
(somewhat) more whole
rather than less than...
Its a fine wish but one
not often granted, and
for both sides...
For as they say:
"All's fair in love & war"
and them clashes yield
scar upon scar, even
for a winner, for a loved...
I myself have seen, thru
the vision of the heart,
that the pain born via
the very quest of love
- that unquenchable desire
come from the leaving of
the womb, the withdrawal
of the teet, the very first
cries of young life -
is an indelible pain that
does not fade with a
successful romantic campaign
but only evolves and transmutes
into the fear of loss
of the new 'possession' ...
and so never does it end,
this pursuit for a satiation
that will not come,
indeed cannot...
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
How To Tell Your Woman Done Gone (For Dummies) - ADDENDUM
A Scene taken straight from a Movie:
Where girl silently drifts away
from the self-absorbed dude
who once held her sway, in every way.
Little by little the audience sees
her heart turn towards the open door,
left ajar by his poorly executed but
good intentions.
And when the pain of living a love
that is no longer alive become
too tense a pressure to bear,
when it boil down to the bottom
she will not shed nary another tear.
And perhaps in the most dramatic tradition
he'll come home one day and she'll be gone,
or maybe there'll be a different, new knowing
smile in her eyes, or even:
he stumbles upon her in an unspeakable act.
Or could be that in the hands of an artiste
of thoroughly cruel intention, he'll have his man
with eyes that slowly drift from her to the floor
ask her simply, almost rhetorically:
"why don't you laugh at my jokes anymore?"
ADDENDUM:
Act 3, Scene 3:
More dispirited than embarrassed, he broke from her bemused gaze and stared intently at the floor. "you know I bruise like a grape," he mumbled somberly after sufficiently melodramatic pause. When there was no immediate response, he looked up to find her muffling laughter: during the silence she'd turned away to the muted television just in time to catch a particularly funny scene in a classic movie from the '80's. For the umpteenth time, Lewis had stuffed the salmon down his Santa Claus suit and for the life of her she couldn't keep from sniggering...
ADDENDUM II:
Act 2, Scene 16:
The thought came upon her in a moment of sudden clarity. As is often the case with such bursts of awareness, it arose at a most incongrous time and place: while she was signing autographs after a show. "I'm so over him." During the taxi ride back to the apartment she had ample time to further consider the ramifications. Until now it had not even occurred to S. that for weeks, maybe even months, she'd been in the act of leaving him. Presently the signs came into stark focus. A wry smile began to widen as it dawned upon S. how much J., her new personal assistant, actually favored C. Not as he was now; but as he'd looked back then, when she'd originally fallen for him. J. was a bit taller perhaps but otherwise the resemblance was uncanny. The angular face, lean torso, the feminine fingers. Even his ubiquitous afghani-style hat and colored glasses. Rather than proceed to the next logical progressions of the thought and wonder (A) how on earth she could possibly have missed the similitude during the interview process or (B) if perhaps C. had noticed it too, instead another, completely disparate sensation came. A warm throb which spread rapidly from the top of her head to settle in the pit of her stomach. It was deep resentment, bordering upon anger, born of the endurance of literally years of C.'s nuanced rejection. Yes, S. was certain he loved her. But it was a needy, codependent love and C. barely hid the fact that it was a love she had to re-earn on a semi-daily basis. Though she understood from whence such machinations came and even sympathized with his childhood trauma, enabling him had never returned her the loyalty and affection she had once been so sure would one day follow...
Where girl silently drifts away
from the self-absorbed dude
who once held her sway, in every way.
Little by little the audience sees
her heart turn towards the open door,
left ajar by his poorly executed but
good intentions.
And when the pain of living a love
that is no longer alive become
too tense a pressure to bear,
when it boil down to the bottom
she will not shed nary another tear.
And perhaps in the most dramatic tradition
he'll come home one day and she'll be gone,
or maybe there'll be a different, new knowing
smile in her eyes, or even:
he stumbles upon her in an unspeakable act.
Or could be that in the hands of an artiste
of thoroughly cruel intention, he'll have his man
with eyes that slowly drift from her to the floor
ask her simply, almost rhetorically:
"why don't you laugh at my jokes anymore?"
ADDENDUM:
Act 3, Scene 3:
More dispirited than embarrassed, he broke from her bemused gaze and stared intently at the floor. "you know I bruise like a grape," he mumbled somberly after sufficiently melodramatic pause. When there was no immediate response, he looked up to find her muffling laughter: during the silence she'd turned away to the muted television just in time to catch a particularly funny scene in a classic movie from the '80's. For the umpteenth time, Lewis had stuffed the salmon down his Santa Claus suit and for the life of her she couldn't keep from sniggering...
ADDENDUM II:
Act 2, Scene 16:
The thought came upon her in a moment of sudden clarity. As is often the case with such bursts of awareness, it arose at a most incongrous time and place: while she was signing autographs after a show. "I'm so over him." During the taxi ride back to the apartment she had ample time to further consider the ramifications. Until now it had not even occurred to S. that for weeks, maybe even months, she'd been in the act of leaving him. Presently the signs came into stark focus. A wry smile began to widen as it dawned upon S. how much J., her new personal assistant, actually favored C. Not as he was now; but as he'd looked back then, when she'd originally fallen for him. J. was a bit taller perhaps but otherwise the resemblance was uncanny. The angular face, lean torso, the feminine fingers. Even his ubiquitous afghani-style hat and colored glasses. Rather than proceed to the next logical progressions of the thought and wonder (A) how on earth she could possibly have missed the similitude during the interview process or (B) if perhaps C. had noticed it too, instead another, completely disparate sensation came. A warm throb which spread rapidly from the top of her head to settle in the pit of her stomach. It was deep resentment, bordering upon anger, born of the endurance of literally years of C.'s nuanced rejection. Yes, S. was certain he loved her. But it was a needy, codependent love and C. barely hid the fact that it was a love she had to re-earn on a semi-daily basis. Though she understood from whence such machinations came and even sympathized with his childhood trauma, enabling him had never returned her the loyalty and affection she had once been so sure would one day follow...
Unsung
The Sun also rises in the west
it just boil down to your point
of view, really, at what point are you?
you see what you swear you saw
so now do you trust it, dismiss it
or stand in awe?
there lies the difference in
what you could achieve:
it all come down to what you dare to dream.
Like popsicles in winter time, raspberries in spring,
somewhere out there that's how it be,
depend only upon what you
choose to see or not to see
that is the question before
the hearts of those of us asleep
- asleep to our impossible beauty
luminous beings we are.
wake when you're good
and rested, humble servant,
and be ready to be steady as
the rain and shine your light rays upon
this here creation like an each one sun,
teach another this lesson and
be thine own army of ubiquity,
master of unsung legend.
it just boil down to your point
of view, really, at what point are you?
you see what you swear you saw
so now do you trust it, dismiss it
or stand in awe?
there lies the difference in
what you could achieve:
it all come down to what you dare to dream.
Like popsicles in winter time, raspberries in spring,
somewhere out there that's how it be,
depend only upon what you
choose to see or not to see
that is the question before
the hearts of those of us asleep
- asleep to our impossible beauty
luminous beings we are.
wake when you're good
and rested, humble servant,
and be ready to be steady as
the rain and shine your light rays upon
this here creation like an each one sun,
teach another this lesson and
be thine own army of ubiquity,
master of unsung legend.
Like Past Lovers Do...
OK, I'll admit it -
I'm jealous of the way
you look at him, I know
he's my stand-in...
********
You wanna rap a new way, you say,
Like Past Lovers Do...past lovers do...
So shall I fade into the background now?
A fading picture in your gallery?
An echo spins past conversations
into the cosmic din
And the energy we had even
when our love was past, you
wanna diffuse it, let loose it
I send you a glimmer of it
But you refuse it, now...
I guess it was really all or none
And since I cannot love that way, luv
I'll take the latter and so like forgotten
friends we'll become as thoughts that
arise and pass between contemplative morning sips
of tea (or coffee), random faces that pass
along the background of our minds when
a memory is triggered by a song or a shape
or a dream of you naked underneath my
adoring spell, your scent upon me again
for an instant then gone...
But on the flip side:
You wanna deny the past
make it a one night stand with
a vulnerable man down on his luck,
like it was just a fuck, a fling, a tapenade,
french pastry, flaky golden brown
disintegrating when you bite, cannot
be eaten whole, but consumed
it will be nonetheless, unless
you spit me out baby...
You wanna disco night, drunken state,
blind date do over, a thing
Past Lovers Do: deny the real
because it's so much easier
to feel than the real...
ignorance is bliss, yes,
easier to forget a kiss than bliss, 'tis...
And so I'll let you have your release,
if it'll make you satisfied, I won't fight
you or beg you (to stay), no (more) drama,
no self inflicted pain, when someone wants
to walk away, I've learned to let 'em...
I'm jealous of the way
you look at him, I know
he's my stand-in...
********
You wanna rap a new way, you say,
Like Past Lovers Do...past lovers do...
So shall I fade into the background now?
A fading picture in your gallery?
An echo spins past conversations
into the cosmic din
And the energy we had even
when our love was past, you
wanna diffuse it, let loose it
I send you a glimmer of it
But you refuse it, now...
I guess it was really all or none
And since I cannot love that way, luv
I'll take the latter and so like forgotten
friends we'll become as thoughts that
arise and pass between contemplative morning sips
of tea (or coffee), random faces that pass
along the background of our minds when
a memory is triggered by a song or a shape
or a dream of you naked underneath my
adoring spell, your scent upon me again
for an instant then gone...
But on the flip side:
You wanna deny the past
make it a one night stand with
a vulnerable man down on his luck,
like it was just a fuck, a fling, a tapenade,
french pastry, flaky golden brown
disintegrating when you bite, cannot
be eaten whole, but consumed
it will be nonetheless, unless
you spit me out baby...
You wanna disco night, drunken state,
blind date do over, a thing
Past Lovers Do: deny the real
because it's so much easier
to feel than the real...
ignorance is bliss, yes,
easier to forget a kiss than bliss, 'tis...
And so I'll let you have your release,
if it'll make you satisfied, I won't fight
you or beg you (to stay), no (more) drama,
no self inflicted pain, when someone wants
to walk away, I've learned to let 'em...
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