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One of those days [Jul. 4th, 2013|01:02 am]
Did next to nothing besides nap and watch movies. Doped up on apathy. Enjoying the lucid dreaming of a day illspent. Not that I gave up on the day. Thought about loss today. Let the slow boil of emotions sweep themselves away in the roil of time. What are my dreams? Illicit.
link1 indie tape|Ghetto Blastin'

Break [Jun. 15th, 2013|02:52 am]
[Skating left me |hornyhorny]
[Rocking out to |Kid Cudi - Purrsuit]

I got inked in indigo this last week. 'Break'.

Has a number of meanings. Physical. Limits. Dance.

Battling hard. Something broke.

Sometimes I see it all in my dreams.

I dance to forget it all.
linkGhetto Blastin'

The internet is boring [Apr. 3rd, 2013|05:58 pm]
[Rocking out to |Opeth~ Demon of the Fall]

I mean it has no luster to it any more. Its polished. No more searching for things, no more wonder. I go to maybe 5 sites. Could you imagine if someone denied service to Google or Facebook? The anarchy that would cause. Not for the sake of causing users discomfort, only to challenge their view,
link7 indie tapes|Ghetto Blastin'

A poem [Feb. 19th, 2012|03:12 am]
[Rocking out to |Ridgewalkers]

Ok first let me describe this kid
to you in terms you can understand
and remain not unstated, in such
a state, stately beauty.

Oh the way he moved tot he touch of
the cement beneath his cloven hooves,
his dirty white paws initially etches with
his initials and he said so often to me
in sarcastic tones "You are unbelievable"

or something like that.
linkGhetto Blastin'

(no subject) [Oct. 13th, 2009|01:48 am]
close against
the snarl of fall,

wind sharp with
yellow wolf teeth,

leaves like spittle
flung foamy from
open          rabid
linkGhetto Blastin'

(no subject) [Sep. 29th, 2009|04:23 am]
Some christian themed poetry for you guys.

Psalm 1

Lord, let my ashen heart see
red, not rage; emancipate this
rib cage, groaning with in me
to break down impersonal walls

with a wild style of shapes, twice in design,
sleeves of silk so long, fitting pretty
and drinking cerulean; lucky
and making a difference today
with the brand of Justice
smeared chestward.

So sit down clutching prayers
of verses as pianos
with erotic voices seek seduction
and fail, the small silent bell of the
Spirit tolling thrice as God
above abides below, intimately.


Psalm 2

emancipate this
groaning impersonal wall

with wild luck
and Justice smeared


seek the silent
Spirit as God
abides intimately.


Psalm 3

Emancipate this person
with wild smeared prayers
and seek the silent
thrice God intimately.

link1 indie tape|Ghetto Blastin'

dust [Sep. 10th, 2009|01:56 am]
Look around you. Everything, look at your posters, your clothes, your computer, even yourself. Look at your flesh that tenses when you wish, your muscles that writhe under skin, that heart beat and breath that sustain you. The fly on the wall, the friend online, the light bulb and the dishes and the food you eat.

Its dust. Maybe not right now, right now it is a chair, or a speaker, or your right arm. But in time it will be nothing but dust. You will die, I promise. I will too. As humans we are adverse to this, we enjoy pretending we are immortal. Yet we are not. We are flesh and blood that decomposes when life leaves our veins. And the walls around you, in a hundred years, in two hundred years, even perhaps in a few weeks, won't exist any more. Who can say what tomorrow holds? Yet the further in the future we push the less will last.

Disconcerting. Almost depressing. Yet, not really. Turn your mind to God. Realize all your works will pass. All your love and your hate, and everything under the sun, and the sun itself, will pass. Yet, the eternal. The Divine. God. The only thing outside of time, the only thing defining time, time itself, yet so much more. Consider that. Realize that everything passes except the eternal. All we can do is acknowledge and follow that forever which permeates our passing, doing so with joy.

Seek and you shall find, knock and it shall be opened.
linkGhetto Blastin'

First in a while [Sep. 9th, 2009|02:47 am]
The problem I am running into is that once you settle on a point of view
it is easy to become trapped into that belief. Once you decide something
is inerrably true your mind becomes closed. This is an issue for me
considering how rarely I am ever truly right. Or righteous. More often
than not it has seemed that my righteousness is based upon me being right
and propping up my own beliefs in my mind rather than listening to others.

Argumentation seems to come naturally to me. I am right. I am RIGHT.
Always right. People are also right when they agree with what I believe
*Laughs*. Otherwise they are wrong.

Yet the issue becomes how does one find the truth? In books? In the
Bible? In Prayer? In God? The Holy Spirit or the Tao or Enlightenment?
Recently I was told to think with my heart, not with my mind. I am
begining to believe that is the case when it comes to the truth. On our
hearts are written the scriptures of eternity. Yet we struggle with our
minds to intellectualize the truth. Every word that comes out of my mouth
muddles the truth even more in my attempt to clarify it. Ironic.

Knowing that I am selfish and fight against it there must be many out
there who are selfish and don't. We must keep this in consideration. We
must weigh their words, as well as our own words, very carefully in order
to find the truth. There is a force out there seeking to deceive us, even
if that force is only ourselves. We are our greatest enemies.


[It's] Easy to get wrapped up in the egotistical side of
expression. Pondering whether or not I want to get published. Have a book
in the works. Is it selling out to get published? I don't know. What is my
intent? To get money? To get fame? To share my heart with others? I pray
the last one.
linkGhetto Blastin'

poetry keeps me dreaming [May. 8th, 2009|04:48 pm]
A field of dandelions
Soon all these houses
will be ash but
I don't mind.


Dog barking at bike
Spring clouds fill the sky
like lucid diamonds
linkGhetto Blastin'

(no subject) [Dec. 26th, 2008|05:07 pm]
Life is hard
But breathing comes easy
and smiling is a gift.
link5 indie tapes|Ghetto Blastin'

A Real post [Oct. 3rd, 2008|02:13 am]
Bloody on hands, clumping in grief like flowers. This is the core of the beast, a prying open of chests to get to jewels and gooey bits. See everything in its glistening purpose, shivering and trembling as the rain slaps against organs brutally. Meanwhile beautifully embodied all the birds left summer, like ivory coated in habits taking to rosaries and repeating "Amen amen amen".

Henceforth, impromptu surgery. Nothing can cure a cancer that only exists in the presence of now. As a writer, as a painter, as a man with no plan and never having a plan planned this all out to the extreme, an orchestra of gore never meant for an audience but all the wooden seats seemed to be filled with ghosts.

Precipitation screams and questions the flavor of angel wings, duly noted that any sort of endless dust will be coated with cocaine. Wait to wake from this deep sleep. Know that in knowing you know nothing at all, and then pause. This is were the breathe is meant to be . Stolen like a thief drenched in a solar eclipse, never minding the rules of formality, perhaps only divulging purpose. Little else.

What is of worth? If the answer is everything then the truth becomes nothing. If the answer is nothing then everything becomes full of distortion. The only thing one can deny is Delphi, but the future is always transcribed in sand, written over all those foot steps meant to carry the wind in every direction. Absinthe air balloons drink turpentine and consume flames.

Finally, there stood the prince of darkness, his eyes alight with surprise. Clip that one wing with paper and end all this sullen rain. The sudden rain, The southern rage. His smile twists a jaw like a wish bone into a broken mirror and razor teeth. Understand incisions and scalpels. Oh yes, and his hands, long with celerity and feline propensity, they are awash in blood, caught in the act.
link6 indie tapes|Ghetto Blastin'

I said [Sep. 29th, 2008|06:56 pm]
"I hope you live forever, but don't wish it on me."

You said "Don't be clever.
link6 indie tapes|Ghetto Blastin'

I don't know [Sep. 28th, 2008|01:08 pm]
But I've been told you'll never die and you'll never grow old.
link2 indie tapes|Ghetto Blastin'

(no subject) [Aug. 10th, 2008|11:44 pm]
~free write~

Waves crash against a brutal sense of desire,
all doors cradle their keys.

A maze is a series of doors leading every where
or maybe no where at all and you just wont'
     know into you go inside the maze contained
          with in wires of everything make  believe

Or should I say more?

salt tastes like the eggs called fetuses that
i would shuvel into my mouth day after day for
the protein of life apparently whiskey is a derivative
of the word in welsh meaning water of life
i drink every day just to stay young

slick is never a keybworsd nly a desire as the flames of earth rage higher than tghe mountains containagint he volcanoes of self reuption, of insatiable racvings often turning golden hearts craven in the search for my more desire.

Watch me sjuper man all the proeblems of my life and leave the
rest for all those skankie ass hoes I call me exes.
not that anything is wrong iwf them pers eits just he feelings they sill
stir leaving a nice empty spot right next to my coroted artery. go figure.

life sometimes sturns out that way when you are so clsoe to teh ropes that couy can smell teh sweat of all those ywho came before you and could knot just give upon some sacred dream but sintead pushed forward into what seemed oblivion and stepped out the other side? wut if and wut if and wut if and then some day you find out nothing at allb ecause the next day hasn't come and if that hasn' happened yet than how can you know anythinga t all an dht atsh ow life seems to just run out liek that and ther is never eally an yesesnmse of time fof anyhone or anything int hise crazcy old mixed up backed up soilage clogged sweaty mixed up crazy insane shcizoprhenic mixed up word.

you dig?

I hope you do, any way a find day to you all, may
you steal the daisies away wif ayour desire. write
your poetry wif an imperfect man and laugh away
all the details. Every freudian slip is a way of getting
your sway today.
link5 indie tapes|Ghetto Blastin'

First time in a long time [Jul. 14th, 2008|12:19 pm]
Well, I know it has been a while so I figured I should update, as due to the promptings of a certain someone (hugs for hyperx ). What has been going on in my life? Well I just finished my last class at BSU, makes me rather happy. My car is currently broken down, I am living with an old buddy from high school. Its a good time, though I feel like a mild burden. I am just waiting for my car to be repaired so I can head up to Medical Lake. Going to New Mexico at the end of the summer. I have no Job, but I have been working out lately and writing a lot of poetry. Very positive thing. Playing video games with a friend too.

I guess I am kind of in limbo right now, but I can appreciate it. I know that at other points in my life I will be in a position to take a more authoritative roll in my life, but right now all I can do is be receptive to the world around me, realize that I have very little power besides the spiritual power on the inside and keep on going. Sounds kinda hokey but its all I can do. I mean, I could worry, but what would that solve/ Very little to nothing, I imagine.

so life is good, creative and productive, but not moving in any particular direction except forward right now. I am relatively happy, relatively horny lately too, but pretty much on my game I do believe. Just kind of ready to leave Boise.
link9 indie tapes|Ghetto Blastin'

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