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Write No Cliches ... Pull No Punches ... And Keep Going All Night
i am wrapped in a lucky dream of you
a film star promise
that provides greater depth
you fill my lungs with a purer breath
you are the easy waking into perfect hair
you are the dancing fire in quick eyes
the effortless sense of beingness
i revel in the lack of compromise
swell with passion in morning light
and ride through the day on unfolding dreams
that wake into better realities
grounded, liberated
Posted by Paul Grimsley on November 10th, 2009 at 2:51pm — No Comments
jazz disintegration
the glissade of light
parleyed into heat
as the indistinct collects itself
in mathematical music turning
in a snowflake model of self
a crystalline breakdown
a disassociation of particles
a move away from definite articles
Posted by Paul Grimsley on November 9th, 2009 at 5:41pm — No Comments
the held notions
the dislocaated barrier
the semiotic carrier, the signifier
the signal fire
we sit, retire
gather thoughts, tinder
the multiple fuses
still amidst spills
we are sorting the switches
for punishment
to whip the air
to move the messengers on
the communications gone
all that casually fossilised
barely realised, half formed
the thoughts and forts stormed
the wave crashing in
a signal to end and begin
Posted by Paul Grimsley on November 9th, 2009 at 5:34pm — No Comments
we are the hungry mouths of bread prayers
we are the children of ignored warning flares
in beds waiting for the dreams arriving
surviving in the controlled suffocation
priests at feasts offering ministrations
we are protest songs, we are call and response
slave chains holding us to inheritance
treading water as the tides realign
like maps twisting in the wind of relocation
these absent countries of the reverent dead
Posted by Paul Grimsley on November 9th, 2009 at 5:25pm — No Comments
incarceration
incapacitation
generation of the needed motion
we're breaking the concomitant orbit
hung over stasis maps spinning
dream mapping the interior
transcribing constellations on land masses
war-driving for the open nodes
collapsing down through the locked doors
into basement effacement of self
and climbing the spiral stairs
through fibonnaci plotted renaissance
where we dismantle the complacents
and replace them with evangelical prophe…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on November 9th, 2009 at 5:06pm — No Comments
i am a spank of silver coins
crash through the music with abrasion
it jukebox shuffles the throat: intonation
tongue grooving, needle, perusing
and we dig around in the filth
to get our fingers razored bloody
the discombobulated jigsaw
the locative sense of our grounding
i feel like a foundling
here in the cold wilderness
of music absence
someone hits the cymbal
and the symbol crashes
through the allegorical stand-up comedian
the arche…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on November 8th, 2009 at 3:07am — No Comments
i am the unmitigated gun
i am the bastard son
this is act three and i'm going off
smoking like the red herring
that draws attention away from the shooter
we traced it back via pollutant
to the thoughtstream rapist
who fucked us over
and left us wrapped in comfort blanket rag of flag
like patriotism's a body bag
and all the hooks in books will snag
and drag us down by our conscience
until we are doomed to be unconscious
muttering in our uneasy s…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on November 8th, 2009 at 2:42am — No Comments
kerouac dreaming, buzz screaming
i'm eclectic it, infect it
circumspect hit to reflect hit
of a jazz brush drumming style
that whispers in poet ear
like soft rain thrumming
in the background like radiation
we are cooking slower than an ambience
that seeps in under the door
varnishes the floor
and leaves before the sandwiches are triangulated
between the guy who made them, the cat who eats them
and the girl who serves them, smiling
all the…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on November 8th, 2009 at 2:13am — No Comments
The karaoke killer
is setting out his stall.
He's killing country music
in the Black Country mall.
He mangle-strangles every song,
mallet-tongues it cartoon flat,
shreds it with a rictus grin
under a comedy cowboy hat.
He karaokes all traces
of desire and loss.
He makes Paper Roses sound the same
as The Old Rugged Cross.
No lovelorn lonely strangeness,
no lost highways and no sin.
If Hank Williams is in hell…
Posted by Robert Warrington on November 7th, 2009 at 10:50am — 3 Comments
what they say they want and what they want
are separated by a distance of denial
spun through the arc of a time trial
that breaks thoughts into disjointed words
that only make sense when you add context in
where things start and end to re-begin
the breakagees often seem extreme
but people stumble over them as if in a dream
justifications spinning out in the weave
there's no real desire to deceive
just a free-fall inability to stop
once the pattern has…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on November 7th, 2009 at 12:05am — No Comments
There is a beautiful tock that clicks in the left-hand corner of my left ear,
and it speaks poignant ticks like a good grandfather should. It is wise
and inert. It has a face. Why…
Posted by Troy Bigelow on November 5th, 2009 at 11:00pm — 2 Comments
We are nieces and nephews,
no matter how much we want
to be brothers, and daughters, and sisters and sons.
…
Posted by Troy Bigelow on November 5th, 2009 at 10:46pm — 1 Comment
You have been defeated
by the United States of America.
Now hear this:
…
Posted by Troy Bigelow on November 5th, 2009 at 10:37pm — 1 Comment
Slam the damned door of the damned
cabinet above the kitchen counter covered in spilt milk,
and yank open the…
Posted by Troy Bigelow on November 5th, 2009 at 10:15pm — 1 Comment
forgetful flag waver you waiver
your equality is for one group only
it's why people burn flags
it's why people lay down arms
and step back from other's fights
because some are only allies in the moment
where they stand to gain ground
and never utter a sound
as others are marched away
over time the emotions starched away
seep back in like suggestion of cancer
and under mind and undermined
the surface collapses into the depths
and dragging in pan…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on November 5th, 2009 at 1:56pm — No Comments
between two thoughts that fail to connect
you find yourself feeling circumspect
a waiting bucket in which no rain will collect
waiting for some contagious notion to infect
you go hunting mirrors that might reflect
your inner beauty, your outer defect
the circuits are a burned out mess
you forget how to hide, how to dress
so that people don't see your plain distress
you go everywhere under duress
and feel some kind of push to confess
the wafer and…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on November 4th, 2009 at 12:46pm — No Comments
my frustrations are becoming smaller sums
and in the end don't add up to much
while you seem a multiplication of woes
are you happy with those? keep you warm at night?
so obsessed with labels for your discomfort
forcing others to wear them so you feel safe
and work on ways to constantly hide your face
post-it note mentalities are temporary at best
serve as momentary memory aids
but for some the short-term invades
the long-term and they're unable to ad…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on November 3rd, 2009 at 5:53pm — No Comments
Forget, why are we here?
I’m thinking, why was i there?
Failing hair, aging face.
Why should I have ever
Been living
In the past tense?
Forget, why are we here?
I’m thinking, why was i there?
The smoke keeps telling
Me there’s fire.
But you can get the smoke
Without the fire.
If the truth spoke it’s
Self I’d call it a liar.
Forget, why are we here?
I’m thinking, why was i there?
Thoughts of pressing flesh
Eye…
Posted by Gregory Dancer on November 2nd, 2009 at 10:34pm — 2 Comments
Posted by Gregory Dancer on November 2nd, 2009 at 10:08pm — 1 Comment
these easy assumptions
a blockage in the pipe
communication attenuated
your thoughts constipated
and you make uncareful statements
your reasoning flawed
your prejudices stored
and unpacked in stuttering moments
of confusion, of apoplexy
i don't let it vex me
i like it when someone corrects me
so i can offer the same to you
understanding what the game is to you
means i can learn how to play it
but as i turn now to say it
you turn away in…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on November 2nd, 2009 at 1:39pm — No Comments
early mornings are for farmers and alarm clocks
that's why the body is a cry of denial
before the digits are doubled
and the sun climbs higher
than the egg yolk horizon
we are a conversation with coffee
we are stretching ourselves
into wakeful shapes
shrugging out of dreams
and clinging sheets
warm night bodies seek to return
climbing back down into intimacy
dozing in the shallow breath waters
motor idling in the sleepy smiley moments
the c…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 31st, 2009 at 7:30am — 1 Comment
What monochrome rainbow
hides outside the hissing window
…
Posted by Troy Bigelow on October 29th, 2009 at 10:35pm — 2 Comments
i think on comfortable silences, your phrase
and i push into warm bodies
with you there i am something else
but alone i'm just myself
and i can't allow myself to fall back into that
there are failures in me that have soured
there are successes in us that shine
i have weighed anchors to move onwards
and travel through you to somewhere better
but it's not as easy as working to forget the pain
it's dealing with and becoming more sane
i don't want to…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 29th, 2009 at 2:25pm — 1 Comment
If... was whispered
Only was replied....
very softly
Hugh then listened
and decided to walk past
for it was an Only
And the PopCat
kept ahold of the Ape
as they walked through
If was whispered
And Hugh danced
replied he did....
Only........
he prefers candied coffee
methanol flavored cigarettes
…
Posted by Donnie Kay on October 28th, 2009 at 9:18pm — 2 Comments
magic's an easy one
it comes in moments
eyes flick to the side
the bit lip
the fingertip
the sweet warm kiss
and the promise of a half-day foot-rub
burgers where bread promised disappointment
and the realisation that work is closer
to where we live and lunchtimes
might be something we can spend together
my palms holding your calves
pausing at the delicate ankles
and massaging any fatigue from your feet
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 28th, 2009 at 2:13pm — No Comments
you're sucking on the poetry snowflake
throwing books into the chipper
make it rain butchered words
and there is song in snatches sputtering
laid here in snow angel territory
thinking about mudpies
and other ideas a child can make
you watch a bird smashing a snailshell
and you think: if i carried my home
on my back then how much freer would i be?
but it's nature's way to provide problems
making it your way to be a crossword solution
hopskotching th…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 26th, 2009 at 7:47pm — 2 Comments
Who were the Olmecs? Who were they?
With their raised houses
Their ingenious ditches
Their earth pyramids
Their basalt thrones
Their jaguar masks
Their concave mirrors
Their unknown symbolism
Their weird figurines
Their palm-thatched roofs
Their undeciphered hieroglyphs
Their rubber ball rituals
Their jade art
Their deliberately buried monuments
Their stone heads dreaming in the primeval jungle
Their obsidian arrows
T…
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 26th, 2009 at 4:42pm — 1 Comment
When they told me I had cancer
I was overwhelmed by a sense of things needing to be done
or done again, done better
I went to the archives and pulled everything
The novel that never got beyond the first few pages
Short stories that stalled after a promising first paragraph
Numerous notes towards essays never written
Flawed scripts to unmade films
Partial lyrics to unrecorded songs
Going through it all turned my stomach
The incompleteness of everything s…
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 26th, 2009 at 4:32pm — 1 Comment
the vis a vis interface
and the keys you hit
we are decoding
what's written on the back of the eye
the instructions on the skull interior
some of them written with an inferior
uncaring intention to close down avenues
to make the map a smaller place
you realise you are a real person
and you shed these wounds
dig them out of the deep tissue
and burn them as fuel to move forward
released and unchained
no longer feeling blocked and drained…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 26th, 2009 at 1:52pm — No Comments
The boy had never felt so alone. At the field’s edge, fixated on the motorway running alongside, its steady swish of headlights, he wondered whether the people stowed inside each car were in a big hurry to get somewhere or if it just seemed that way. Sometimes the sky felt so high it was beyond reach but now its black mass was oppressively close, overwhelming and almost suffocating. He splayed his hand out an inch from his face and could barely distinguish it from the night. This made him lau…
Posted by C. Boylan on October 26th, 2009 at 1:10pm — 2 Comments
It’s Not Green
Brady could always hear the dripping. Reddish green mucus like with loud “plops” on the concrete floor. It was a constant companion in the dark, the smell…
Posted by Patrick Broussard on October 25th, 2009 at 10:36am — 1 Comment
In my cracked crystal
I see broken windows
I see a wrecked flat
I see you showing your bruises
to a sceptical officer in charge
I see one year
of statements at the police station
I see a fist with your name on
I see a restraining order
not worth the paper it's written on
I see a different flat
I see him spotting you in town
and following you home
I see more broken windows
I see him standing in the dock
in a sober suit
and a caref…
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 25th, 2009 at 10:15am — 1 Comment
You are a floating wood
of violet trees
You are violet trees
with roots of blue starlight
You are blue starlight melting
to liquid diamond
You are liquid diamond
budding in to firedrops
You are firedrops forming
a handgrenade of flowers
You are a handgrenade of flowers
exploding in slow motion
You are a slow explosion
in a sky of ten dimensions
You are a ten dimensional sky
with an ice cloud sun
You are an…
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 25th, 2009 at 10:09am — 1 Comment
In your dreams you're always in a loop
You go back for your bag and you've got no boots
You go back for your boots and you've got no bag
You keep wondering why this keeps happening
You keep remembering it's a dream and then forgetting again
In your dreams it's always the end of something
or the beginning of something
or you're attending something
Something puzzling
like a prize giving ceremony with no ceremony and no prizes
The people in your dreams are…
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 25th, 2009 at 10:00am — 1 Comment
Avoid travel. It's a risky business.
Avoid the home. It's where most accidents happen.
Avoid the sky. Things fall from it.
Avoid the ground. It's not as stable as it looks.
Avoid food poisoning. Don't eat anything.
Avoid war. It can break out anywhere.
Avoid dogs. They bite.
Avoid people. They also bite.
Avoid airborne viruses. Don't breath.
Avoid disappointment. Don't get your hopes up.
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 24th, 2009 at 6:24pm — 1 Comment
I dream about you Babylon
How I stood at your gate
awed and enslaved
surrounded by colours
I'd never seen
by gods that were not mine
I dream about you Babylon
I dream about you Babylon
old capital of Sumer
old capital of Akkad
I dream of your dazzle
your lions and flowers
your terrifying brilliance
I dream about you Babylon
I dream about you Babylon
of your animal god Hadad
of your sky god Marduk
of your…
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 24th, 2009 at 12:22pm — 1 Comment
The girl with the cool head
The girl with a heart of blue quartz
The girl with the light shining through her skin
The girl who was unexpected
The girl who captured the moment without knowing
The girl too humble to know her own strength
The girl who got to me
The girl who stepped out of Pharaoh's shadow
The girl cart-wheeling through the yellow flowers
The girl dodging wind machines in Tornado Alley
The girl who flowed
The girl of the intrepid…
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 24th, 2009 at 12:12pm — 1 Comment
Another heavy pilgrimage
along the branching arteries of corridors,
footsteps muted dull on green linoleum,
through the fog-thick smell
of disinfectant and slow dying,
to stand by your bed,
amid the sprawling intrusion
of tubes and wires and machinery,
and hold your hand…
Posted by Stevie Gray on October 23rd, 2009 at 7:51pm — 2 Comments
i'm abuzz with energy
nervous and misdirected
my gut swirls in an agressive act
trying to digest the world
chasing the breadcrumbs of scattered focus
a loose fitting frustration
or maybe a simmering anger
trying to defuse myself
pulling on tripwires
i feel that resolution awaits
sunsets and sunrises are nuclear
and whether powering down or powering up
i am counting under my breath
waiting for it to settle
i wonder that my eyes won't se…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 23rd, 2009 at 4:46pm — No Comments
I had one good thought
but it didn't last
I had one good feeling
but it was a while ago
I had one good idea
but I didn't act on it
I had one good plan
but it didn't work
I had one good brain cell
but it died
I had one good day
but it was a fluke
I had one good eye
but it was in the middle of my forehead
Posted by Robert Warrington on October 23rd, 2009 at 2:00pm — No Comments
Mood Music
Buzzwords kill
Buzzwords kill…
Posted by Donnie Kay on October 22nd, 2009 at 8:10pm — No Comments
the words click
the words slide
the words dance
they do different things
as i read new shit
as i re-purpose my verse
and push to be something
else
you think:
no drugs and no drink
for a while at least
you ponder not mentioning
what you are imbibing whilst writing
and not writing about writing is paramount
postmodernity is a dead horse
irony can be flat
so sincerity floats briefly
there are windows of opportun…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 22nd, 2009 at 3:57pm — No Comments
the first book i read that re-wired my head
was probably the bible but i wanted to say winnie the pooh
i was hooked on swiss family robinson, that book was so rich
i'd read sherlock holmes, robinson crusoe
interchange and switch
i read so much back then
digging around for facts, absorbing
i'd process it all by drawing
i'd try out troglodytes troglodytes, bubo bubo,
corvus corvidae; and i had the eye
was in some ways a finer instrument then?
did en…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 21st, 2009 at 4:43pm — No Comments
October 21, 2009 / 12:27 pm
The rudeness of the
Day to day, the way
Brief moments are
Supposed to suffice.
The I have all day,
Then disappear, the
Insincere. The build
Me up and blow me
Up and wonder why
I'm so fucked up. The
I love you but only
When you're not you,
You're always wondering
What I can do for you.
The oh Val. The damn it,
Val. The you're never
Going to get it right, Val.
The way the pa…
Posted by Val Val on October 21st, 2009 at 4:07pm — 2 Comments
all my poems, simple and direct
for you
my confusion belongs to me
and my clarity is in you
who needs philosophy or maths
when we are one plus one?
i overtalk my position
and the words sour
collapse under their own weight
when i use the three word spell
i cast myself out on a line
and i catch you
i want to be laid here holding you
while the sun rises and dawns in you
and while the sun sets and sleeps with you
i…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 21st, 2009 at 3:03pm — 2 Comments
over breakfast, listening to sonic youth
and reading about sartre's notion of truth
you like the pop stylings of the monkees
and you listen to morrison and his lazy diamond studded flunkies
you can read kant and dig comics
though there's debate on this
as to whether you can be beatles and stones
as to whether you can be nirvana and guns 'n' roses
but these people listen to music as ringtones
and are led around by their noses
you can have ratm in heavy…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 20th, 2009 at 5:03pm — 1 Comment
screened in by light
the skin of informational data
the skein of translated experience
we map onto our worlds
skin them with significance
add to the computation
increase subtlety slowly
until interaction is multiple
onion-skin layers of complexity
ones and zeroes and superpositions
all codified into qubits and moved around
until we collapse the quantum field
down to a single point of light
one solitary choice, the right choice
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 20th, 2009 at 2:05pm — No Comments
some days you feel beat down
and the tired in you is a tide
rolling forth in every word
in every sluggish action
of a loosened grip
you are often pulled apart
you are rarely put back together
and no one can tell the difference
after a while as resignation settles in
as colour leaks from the photograph
those fingers brush over things
uncaring about the touch they impart
the mind is just a rusted steel trap
that gapes an empty promise…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 19th, 2009 at 6:48pm — 1 Comment
putting my real teeth in the bedside jar
the pain pushes up through roof of mouth
hook around eye and skewers into brain
this anxiety dream woke up and walks
i have a weight sitting in my chest
that denies the insistence of any rhythm
it is a monotone of whitenoise silence
that swallows like a black hole centred
i sit there bathed in electric light
watching the world sleep
pulling energy deep inside
hiding it in the stillness
i am not one word…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 19th, 2009 at 5:07pm — No Comments
those early morning struggles into consciousness<br>
where the alarm clocks seems a rude intrusion<br>
where insistence is a persistent annoyance<br>
and you just wish to float to the surface<br>
assemble yourself like a snowflake slowly<br>
dream the individuality in somnolent ease<br>
<br>
light's gentle persuasion does not convince<br>
a lover's touch seems somehow heavy-handed<br>
and your eyelids are w…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 17th, 2009 at 11:01am — 1 Comment
we forget that we are engines
we believe that we are driven
because someone taught god as other
and stole the fire back
that the prometheus conceit gifted us
magic is an awakening into awareness
the idea that you can shape the world
that you already shaped it
by waking up and opening your eyes
smiles cost nothing but weigh heavy
we are never starving next to each other
when we recognise the similarity
when we stop talking of difference
and…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 16th, 2009 at 1:00pm — No Comments
sad stories are an unwanted transformation
some tides seek never to return
but habit draws them back
and things hang in the veil
trapped there like lost moths
burned out christmas tree lights
how far removed from truth are we?
the photographs, the words
and the reach for the unfathomable
we have to make intuitive leaps
base our opinions on thumbnail sketches
succumb to the frozen allure
the conflict moves around them now
and you might…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 15th, 2009 at 2:31pm — No Comments
are you a premium of space?
do you remember where everything goes?
movement is not an unnatural state
and this is only one place
it sunsets earlier than the first day promised
and from here i can't see the fish leaping
but i am taking with me the most important things
a hand to hold and a heart to live inside
your difficulties with it are understandable
you are stuck here and it is an anchor
and it swallows your worth into earth
like a hungry grav…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 14th, 2009 at 12:43pm — No Comments
blessing or curse is a perspective
the picture window skinned with intent
we work our vision up out of the flesh
like a splinter that slid deep
we can ignore the weather
in our thermostat conditions
but we have been at the mercy too
of the failure of technology
we wish to be as free as the backyard possum
but we build ourselves cages and mazes
to live in and move through
and then sell ourselves stories about them
so that blindness can be more…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 14th, 2009 at 11:41am — No Comments
the daily interrogate of potentials
because success isn't circumstantial
you are involved in a selective process
a carving of the world, a whittling
your quantum computer miracle
sorting through multiversal paths
to walk through the scatter
all those answers like bright shards
all glinting in an indiscriminating light
some people claim they are bleeding
others say there is no glass, i'll be okay
others sit down and build a church about stillness
bu…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 13th, 2009 at 1:53pm — 1 Comment
"So what is this?" Kane asks the man in front of him. "It's a key." The man says to the perplexed Kane. Key in hand Kane looks to his right and to his left and sees only a long blank hallway, the right end of which seems to never end. But on the left end of which there is a wooden door, with a gold handle. A door Kane would expect to see in Alice in Wonderland. Still confused he looks the man in the face. The man is an elderly old asian man with sparkles of grey that looks like snow on asphalt.…
Posted by Prince Euo on October 12th, 2009 at 6:41pm — 2 Comments
ah, buck up
or shut the fuck up
this isn't the end of the world
the mayan calendar says twenty-twelve
so get a grip on yourself
we do things by the rules here
cater to the fools here
geez, man, look at the schools here
but today is a holiday
and so we are loophole paroled
and extended to friday, man
and columbus can be crusoe for a day
thinking india in early dream america
we don't have any beads to trade
and they're drawing a bead on…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 12th, 2009 at 4:37pm — 1 Comment
these days, these hard questions
and the willingness to answer them
we forge it ourselves
recognise the obstacles
and in naming them make them so
but on the other side they seem trifling
because you had someone stood next to you
who said' i'm the answer
and you don't need to question that
because you hold them close
and all truths become self evident
you can be awake every day if you just open your eyes
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 12th, 2009 at 3:10pm — No Comments
the absence is more than noticeable
i can't fill myself up
so i wait because i know sustenance will come
you are excavating the truth of yourself elsewhere
while i sit here living in words
the television humming in the other room
the coffee maker burbling as it works
the light through the shutters makes me wish
we were at the dock watching leaping fish
as sunset calls forth their acrobatics
you'll return tired, ready for sleep
and i'll lay here holding…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 11th, 2009 at 2:26pm — No Comments
A Mourning occured.... or perhaps a Morning happened.. ......
Either way,,, Aether way?
Things have been known to have died
And Hugh asks
Do ya think?
And The Popcat dances
Then says.....
Ask me.
i could work to replicate the broken thoughts
that swirl up through hashish smoke
or the angry sex drive of my whisky self
i could fingerclick an echo of beatitude
or i could country song my way to depression
channelling the blues in my few chord news
but i am infected with the spirit of jazz
i am pulled apart by the fire of punk
and i am not sure i want to name myself anything
go rack your CDs and wracked with guilt
about who built your frankenstein self…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 10th, 2009 at 11:49am — No Comments
i'm an evangelical atheist
life replaced the faith i missed
all those who tried to convert
me are hurt and my progenitors are pissed
i have nothing against protestants or catholics
but my building bricks spelt out something else
and it isn't all about self
i'm kind of zen but buddhists don't kill flies
i've read the bible, i've read the talmud
but they never opened my eyes
in the way ts eliot, sylvia plath and kerouac did
i've read lots of books but ha…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 9th, 2009 at 8:00pm — 1 Comment
and what consequence/ Against a truncheon/ When street is a street/ slick when wet with rain/ All signs obscured Do we follow both paths ?/ Takes these words/ and rearrange them ?/ But sometimes the pattern/ lays across the road/ Inevitable and absurd/ Humorous bombs/ and shrapnel hecklers/ Made like lollipops on/ a conveyor belt/ A murderous work schedule/ But that/ never happened to me./ [[Songtsen.]]
Posted by Von Neumann's Catastrophe on October 9th, 2009 at 1:07pm — 2 Comments
the understanding of how we exist in space
how the movement of information leaves a trace
the world mapped onto water molecules imbibed
the whole of reality could be easily described
in a fluid system the dynamics of which
appear to follow chaotic patterns
until a system emerges and perception diverges
from the commonly held misconception
that a tendency towards entropy is bad
we are glad for the dissolution
because it promises reenergising evolution
t…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 9th, 2009 at 12:38pm — No Comments
So, what do you do with spider bites
on the head of your penis, your scrotum—
/
besides scratch, I me…
Posted by Troy Bigelow on October 8th, 2009 at 9:49pm — 1 Comment
If hummingbirds are named for the humming
of speedy, constant wing-beats and backward-
flying changes of direction—flight unique
/…
Posted by Troy Bigelow on October 8th, 2009 at 9:46pm — 1 Comment
“What was the point of capitalism if it had no morals?
It wasn’t capitalism any longer, it was anarchy.”
—Graham Masterton…
Posted by Troy Bigelow on October 8th, 2009 at 9:42pm — 1 Comment
Nothing noble
Nothing great
Nothing will be as
Valuable as gold
At this rate
Whisper sweet nothings
So there’s nothing to forget
…
Posted by Gregory Dancer on October 8th, 2009 at 9:09pm — 1 Comment
every day is about updates
as the virus proliferates
and manifests in terrorist alerts
economic crises, those stockmarket crashes
surges, insurgencies and troop movements
you lose sight of the improvements
all those little territories gained
in the land of luxury
where meat turns to fat
and the turning leg of the cat
whose path we crossed
is mistaken for rabbit and hacked for lucky
one more story about misery
makes you think 'fuck…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 8th, 2009 at 2:46pm — 1 Comment
this integration is a denial
of the sold disintegration
we daily build into the architecture of self
and ignore the arbitrary structure of other
those colossal abstracts shifting on their axes
like pinwheeling icebergs in a state of melt
we scaled up those individuality models into snowflakes
carved them into diamonds with laser intent
then dipped them in nitrogen for toffee hammer endings
time soldifies into scripted fuses
we lie down in c…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 8th, 2009 at 11:23am — No Comments
the morning walk
the dawn grey skies
i wake next to you
a twist of poetry
you're a hold of warmth
a breeze of touch
and the phone call later
and the anticipation
those clock watching hours
waiting for the door to swing inwards
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 8th, 2009 at 10:33am — No Comments
tripped and tipped and typed
as being ripe for eating
it suggests a limited reading
a quick phrenology scan of bumps
a dismissive look at other lumps
compound breakfast lunch to brunch
and aim at full nutrition
you have to wonder how much volition
allows apportioning of a judgement
the astigmatic eye is an automatic lie
of twisted perspective in need of a corrective lens
the prey of the day on a tenuous web depends
reaching back t…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 7th, 2009 at 2:07pm — No Comments
the broken phone, voice dislocated
and your straining ear leans in
words criss-crossing
a tangle of lines, candles guttering
evp muttering, lost meaning stuttering
there's a possum in the backyard
dropping leaves through smoke
eyes ringed in nocturnal bright
scrabbling around the house
wondering what we're doing here
wiping our backsides on paper napkins
who doesn't worship the great god ramen?
and the denies equilibrium
like sms shor…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 6th, 2009 at 3:20pm — No Comments
we are in communication with ourselves
talking over the stupidity of wisdom teeth
the suffering tongue, the buckled speech
we study pressure points, reflexology
and try to manipulate ourselves to health
it is a wrestling match with pain and discomfort
and mind over the matter
i have a back problem
that connects dot to dot to my head
through the twisting line of spine
an unseen buried hook tugging
which disappears as stress leaves
and i underst…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 5th, 2009 at 3:08pm — No Comments
“I’m all tongues tonight,”
my lips tripped and tried
to say. The chimpanzee
stuttered. The bonobo
claimed more than 90% human DNA,…
Posted by Troy Bigelow on October 3rd, 2009 at 10:24pm — 2 Comments
you're an early morning incentive
and the day works to be inventive around you
light translates your hair a thousand ways
and ignites in your eyes with subtle interplay
and my fingers interrogate your skin
and my heart pushes into your aura
through words that spring ready
from the sprung trap of my love
i wake into dreams of you
and sleep into truths of you
question mark curl of warming spoons
to be wrapped, unwrapped and wrapped again
we are ever…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 3rd, 2009 at 12:44pm — No Comments
movie nights and burnt popcorn mornings
it hangs there, balled carbon smoking
i sit here at the keyboard
traffic at my back, whitenoise rush
picture window at my side, flowers and light
and the thought of my wife, naked white
against the scarlet of dishevelled bedtime sheets
all your extra butter dreams
you cup soft breasts, take the nipple in your mouth
your hand on your dick, thoughts of relief
and sleep, and moving deep
within the warm folds of…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 2nd, 2009 at 8:54am — 2 Comments
who wants to just work on the darkness spew?
arm pumping derrick like only for spoil and oil
all that fossilised bullshit you should have flushed
and you have to ask - are your kidneys working?
or are you just misery knitting circle jerking?
this is not a bedsit misery, this is no existential crisis
do you know what the price is for a little sunshine?
you sit in the sunlight by the birdbath
and talk like you're guiding dante down
through twisting coil of…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on October 1st, 2009 at 3:44pm — No Comments
you work on the black hole inside yourself
trying to engineer a quiet collapse
you exist inside the blindspots of others
speak into their wilful deafness
your irritant speech a mosquito to be shrugged away
you are responsible for your responses only
and they must be tailored to other's comfort
nullified in a null zone awaiting extinction
Posted by Paul Grimsley on September 30th, 2009 at 10:33pm — No Comments
i affiliate myself with nothing but does the self emerge? have i made a cocoon out of words which i can break apart and you can see my colours baking in the sun? just because i don't believe in you something it doesn't mean i believe in nothing i am not apolitical, amoral, or unspiritual but dogma is an astigmatism i try to correct i'll shake hands with all and lay down with none but don't suppose that helps me climb the fence i am not sat atop your picket fence fortifications i am not laying…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on September 29th, 2009 at 5:23pm — No Comments
you have a bruised sense of justice
and need to bust this crust of anger
that corrodes the contact mechanisms
we refract through cracked prisms
that skew the light and illuminate badly
but sadly so do even those meant to teach us
and how can they ever hope to reach us
when they operating from a reactive stance
and enaging in a dance they don't even recognise
the blinkers on our eyes
are one that time grew there slowly
everyone thinking no one knows me…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on September 29th, 2009 at 4:33pm — No Comments
I’m in so much pain right now that it hurts deep down to the core of my being. I never knew I could feel pain like this clean. I am so severely sad and I don’t know what to do with myself. The only comfort I feel is in the arm of Stephanie. She is my true blessing from God. I really don’t think I would be here right now if it weren’t for her. I miss Bam more than anything. I feel like a part of me is gone. I want to remember every detail of every moment I spent with him and I can barely remember…
Posted by Roscoe on September 29th, 2009 at 10:19am — 1 Comment
You’re doing fine
I’m not going to cosign
Wanting a catastrophic line.
Please call on the Divine.
The clock goes “tick”
Feeling oh so homesick
I have an excruciating itch
What I crave is toxic.
You’re doing fine
The clock goes “tick”
I’m not going to cosign
Feeling oh so homesick
Wanting a catastrophic line.
I have an excruciating itch
Please call on the Divine.
What I crave is toxic.
It took one call,
Peering out I saw it all.
Hustling your new eight ball,
I watched…
Posted by Roscoe on September 29th, 2009 at 10:13am — 1 Comment
She came to me like a ghost from the past. The last traitorous three months had been nothing but constant havoc. We barely even spoke after we found out about her fatal disease. She shunned me, for she didn’t want me to miss her when she was gone. Little did she know, that she was it for me; The love of my life and there was no one else. I craved for her, for her soul, her body, her spirit. She hid from me. But today, She came. She came to our room. She came to the place where we had our most in…
Posted by Roscoe on September 29th, 2009 at 10:07am — 1 Comment
Little donkey, my kicking mule.
That tamed the wisps of chill-born
Sparkling spite of temporal length.
Laying ; babe sleep warm, within,
the head-balls of refraction.
Little words, my kicking mule.
Speak…
Posted by Gregory Dancer on September 28th, 2009 at 6:50pm — 1 Comment
satire is dead
the sad ire, dread
the sat higher head
and its sense of irony
give the word
its reign over the absurd
and move reality back to the real
not dictated by the reel
politician idiots
reality game show toilet bowls
the thing on which a whole society pivots
the foundation of grounded souls
we cut loose from the earth
said no idea is too outlandish
join us on this ship of fools
there's plenty of people to man this…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on September 28th, 2009 at 6:42pm — No Comments
we might seem a conversation of cross-purposes
with your focus on illness and death
and my thoughts about birth and living
i don't want to inherit conditions
the doctors seem unsure of
i have to cut the thought of brain tumours
from the healthy tissue of my thoughts
though it returns in consideration of my old neighbour
but then i'm not sure that's what i'm thinking of now
all these things pack in so closely, pack down so tightly
if i say i just…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on September 28th, 2009 at 4:17pm — No Comments
these early minutes are a count of climb
sleep still hangs around your head
in concentric circles, cinching tight
forcing fatigue to hold anchor steady
all the thoughts coming in slow
waiting for human contact
expecting chemical imbalance to correct
black coffee magic, breaking the fast
you can dream in colour wake in black and white
and spend the day developing something between
shifting through daguerrotypes, sepiatone
flashing through big bang…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on September 28th, 2009 at 1:02pm — No Comments
I like the man and the matches
…
Posted by Chocolate Soda on September 27th, 2009 at 3:06pm — 1 Comment
that abyss of waiting
falling through the nightmares
there is nothing solid beneath you
and everything is fluid inside you
geometries turning through each other
time playing out in scenarios
and if you get where you needed to go
it seems robbed of some vitality
and the parasitic fuck you notion is swollen
and bursts in your mouth like bad fruit
and the air sours before you
the whole world is acid and it burns
and while someone else carried on
f…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on September 26th, 2009 at 10:07pm — No Comments
some days i feel older
it takes more to solder the joins
and you begin to miss the point
the watch winds down into blindness
and time unspools like clock guts
spaghetti junction dysfunction
and the language of mechanics
entropy takes it all apart
and leaves it for rust's intrusion
there's no room for confusion
i am past return
i am late for arrival
re-entry burn
negates survival
and the circuit board records failure
in singed and s…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on September 26th, 2009 at 9:30pm — No Comments
things burn on the tongue
infect the mouth
it's just a litmus test
anger or frustration seething
while blood boils
thoughts curdle and time marches on
a phone call costs too much
so silence prevails
and communication fails
you are voodoo dolled to death
in your pins and needles numbness
it is just matter of fact
hurt doesn't leave bruises
time is often the wound
and cannot heal itself
history will tell
as we measure its de…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on September 26th, 2009 at 9:21pm — No Comments
there are promises made
there are games played
and teeth bared on display
all posturing bullshit for peacocks
all breaking rocks for workaday sisyphus
pyramids inverse or otherwise
stories flipped and ripped for other eyes
chip paper news and the unheard replies
indigestion and plaintive sighs
people fiind hard to be straight
they have to approach it from some angle
and they wonder at the inevitable tangle
and the trouble it causes, the pauses…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on September 26th, 2009 at 2:08pm — No Comments
it all fades into film noir rain
the whitenoise suck of tide
to pull you under and blank it
as you drown you casually thank it
we weren't seeking out whiskey
we weren't hanging around for the man
and jesus christ is long gone done for
no we weren't expecting to score
but such colossal disappointment?
such stripping of flesh from the bone?
such consciousness of the plughole swirl?
that bit through like acid
that was a jangle of sharp teeth gargling…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on September 25th, 2009 at 2:44pm — No Comments
the days we formulate ourselves as something different
a recipe our mothers plain forgot
a half completed quadratic equation on the board
or some sing-song rhyme snatched from out of time
here we are closest and farthest from ourselves
echoes living in conch shells dreaming of the sea
when the dreamer smokes to remember the inner child
when the priest finds the temple subtly defiled
when the death card on top of tarot topple is piled
when loki decides to…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on September 25th, 2009 at 1:11pm — No Comments
the last recorded incident of Rubik's cube sticker removal as a means to an end primarily as a result of changing policies regarding horse glue by the good people of Ideal Toys -Alex Vermitsky Matt Torrance or Vance (don't ask, I don't know) lived until he died. Not remarkably, not unremarkably which I suppose leaves us with common flashes of brilliance but it wasn't until I was approached by Vance's sister that I got the idea to write about him she said Vance had wanted me to go…
Posted by Alex on September 23rd, 2009 at 12:16pm — 1 Comment
well, i can surely cover the eastern angles
all those tribal hereditary tangles
they all marched through these counties
and their accents mount through me
in dialect and colloquialisms
our languages are historical prisms
but i don't run with any idea of purity
just because a few tribes fell into obscurity
it doesn't argue against their input
i am roman, norman, anglo saxon, british and irish
and if you have to wonder what might inspire this
it's not se…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on September 23rd, 2009 at 9:19am — No Comments
modernity, infirmity
and the other angsty existential bullshit
that defines a generation in spite of itself
every iteration thinks it has a right to itself
looking at how it's racked in the record store
how it enters through the door, collision avoidance studies
and other less subtle indicators of place
there's honour, dishonour, an intense idea of grace
interpolated through game-playing rules
there are thoughts organised into different schools
it's not al…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on September 23rd, 2009 at 7:51am — No Comments
i don't live in your failure to understand
and i am not measured in a gamble's lifespan
all the fools betting against a sure thing
are burning up on the periphery
and never witnessing the inner circle's intensity
i have been misread and misunderstood
since time immemorial
i don't have to give a tutorial
and i honestly lack the inclination
the important people are already in the know
we are solids and you are gaseous
we are fluid and you are d…
Posted by Paul Grimsley on September 22nd, 2009 at 4:00pm — No Comments
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