Apr 28, 2010

These Walls Are Paper Thin and Everyone Hears Every Little Sound

Two poems, one regarding love, one regarding life. Both inspired by the same person.

She knows who she is.


Speaking with honey and citrus juice,
Baby, go make some coffee.
Nothing out there or in here or out there
that can stop the snowball on a dime.

A million dippers together we gaze.
Baby, go make some coffee.
Though we are a million miles apart,
we see the same moon and feel the same pain.

Worthwhile to note that they're all transvestites,
Baby, go make some coffee.
No two notes are the same in our grand conversation,
its roller coaster on the cosmic down low.

Jump into the water, head first like live bait.
Baby, go make some coffee.
Life speaks and she listens, every drop is a symbol,
Aural fixation, baby you're beautiful.


Shit rolls downhill like water like oil
when the road runs out of guiding lights.
My destination isn't printed on maps
but I can see footprints out there in the smoke.

Everything is everything.
Happenstance be damned.

A subtle heat rises as the chill bites down,
drowning in salt water and lost motor function.
Fingers may get sticky, but que sera sera.
Oranges are meaningless, give me the juice.

Everything is everything.
Happenstance be damned.

Senses jingle sharp and cold like dead presidents.
Deus ex machina, the mystical flyswatter.
Gasoline floats and will burn without shame
crab-walking logic like butter through a hot knife.

Everything is everything,
like water like oil.
Nothing is nothing,
happenstance be damned.

The end. That's all for now, dear friends. I need a haircut.

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