No Church of England in sight

When the last remaining patrons had stepped outside
I turned and asked the Episcopalian woman, "Why?"
To which she promptly replied,
"Because humans are not confusing enough"
and I laughed before crying
Because that is the order of all things True:
Our bellies open and our eyes close
and the tears are wretched from another place
perhaps even another person
folded up inside of us -
a laughing, crying fool who hasn't heard the joke nor felt the pain
but has everything to gain
by being vulnerable

She calmed my nerves with a glass of gin
and broke the silence when
she simply sighed,
which was her way of saying
"Sometimes we do what we think is right because we cannot prove it otherwise."
And her eyes opened wide
and she took in a mouthful of darkness and fumes
and our mutual understanding became our tomb
As it goes, to understand anything
is to be confused with who we once were
before we understood
"So there is certain death for anyone
who seeks to be enlightened" she whispered, taking back another shadow in glass

I turned to her and asked,
"Why not do what we know to be wrong and wait for a sign from above?"

"Because that is not Love and God does not play games"

"My dear, Love is not easily defined... and God...well, He created us in his image...to play."

When the last remaining patrons had stepped outside
I turned and asked the Episcopalian woman, "Why?"
and we let the darkness inside.

[a new twilight]

the questions begin when the sun drips down the day's countless sins
they are miserable creatures, to be honest.
they flap and flutter and cause the nerves to ache
but then, a simple dose of answers can cause them all to fly away.
does anyone have an answer to spare today?

a girl once taught me the pleasure of certain words.
she'd say 'use this in a poem'
and i would grin and do my best to please her
because she could be pleased by certain words

a woman once taught me to hate nothing
and i followed her advice
which was sleek, and slender and shot out from beneath her bottom lip
like renegade dice on the green felt of my mind.
and i thought to advise her that what she saw was not really felt at all
but wool and nylon pulled tightly over her eyes.
because she was a woman, she already knew my lies
and taught me to love everything

so when the questions open their rabid mouths
and sink their curious marks into my neck
i have with me the crucifix of a girl
and the stake of a woman
and the light of a suspicious moon
to lead me home

In the middle of the night...

First of all, I have found my new favorite artist, for no other reason than the fact that I am confused...

Pancakes Anyone?

I am thinking about starting a collection of 'Famous Vaginas with Waffles on them'

mmmm, Vagiffles.



Second of all, 'the fuck' has officially been scared out of me after seeing this...




And third of all, looking at the picture below, for some reason, brings to mind that classic childhood song...

"One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn't belong"




...except I want to point to that lil abomination in Palin's hands and scream "Charles Thacher doesn't belong! Tee Hee, silly Corky."

P.S. I'll give you ten bucks if you can find the home-wrecking, laser-eyed, Stepford wife...

[Hint: She is made of plastic, loves prescriptions drugs, and is named Cindy Lou]


And with that, I seal my deal for front row seats in hell.


"We all end in the ocean
We all start in the streams"

~B. Joel

The Vote

Voting day is upon us and I have decided to make a physical appearance at my designated voting location to seal the deal on political nostalgia that is this year's election. In the past I have opted for the absentee but there is something surreal about joining my fellow Americans in person to choose the lesser of two evils [lets be honest, nobody else has a chance in hell].

The excitement died down considerably however when I discovered where I would be casting my ballot this year. Warehouse Christian Ministries has opened their doors to allow for the fine citizens of the surrounding neighborhoods to confirm their political nomination in the house of the Lord.

My mind quickly thought of justifiable reasons why this marriage of event and environment should not be happening, Separation of Church and State being foremost on the list and naturally, the following scripture verse:

My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations. - Isaiah 56:7

But you have made it a den of thieves - Jeremiah 7:11

and found in the temple those who sold oxen and sheep and doves, and also the changers of money, sitting there. And when He had made a scourge of small cords, He drove them all out of the temple, with the sheep and the oxen, and poured out the changers' money and overthrew the tables.- John 2:12-25

My first inclination was to dress as everyone's favorite messiah and turn the voting tables and booths over in a frenzied state of rage but the consequence of breaking several state and federal laws far outweighed any type of immediate gratification I might have received. So I let the idea roll around in my skull in an attempt to embrace the notion that I would be making a decision for my government in a religious building. What would it be like? Would the ballots be altered to include small pictures of flames next to Obama's name? Would the "No" box be removed on Prop 8? Would there be pictures of Christ staring at me with signs that read "Remember, Jesus was a republican" or "Obama = Father of Lies and Lord of the Underworld"?

I imagined the volunteers handing out Christian pamphlets sharing the good news of Palin and perhaps Pro-Lifers standing around with "Yes on 4" poster boards with pictures of mutilated abortions. Would we be offered communion after leaving the booth? Is my eternal salvation resting on which candidate I select?

WhoWouldJesusVoteFor?

Eventually I was able to dismiss my initial paranoia's and take confidence in the fact that, if there is a God, either his/her will will be done or our free will will be brought to fruition, both of which are technically God's doing. If Ed Gein or Marilyn Manson were candidates and I voted for either of them, I could take great peace in the knowledge that, if one was elected, God endorsed my vote, or at the very least, allowed it to happen.

Personally, the notion that a divine creator plays a role in who is elected President is as silly as the same divine creator having a fancy for a specific football team in the Super Bowl. If there are players on both sides that worship said creator, will He/She then choose the team that had the most loyalty and faith?

Does God operate on a Majority counts basis?

If so, clearly He/She is a 49ers fan and Nietzsche's rumor of his/her death is legitimate.

We shall see........

in retrospect

they found in him a beating heart
triple-stranded chunk of love
chocolate layered
icing whited
washed by winter rains and guided
by it - they eagerly sat
hands in lap
a shell of their former selves
their former selves being merely shelves
upon which boys so easily hung themselves
and they found in him a new advance
a desert storm - a second chance
fruition through and through

but he was not and is not easily amused
and wont be used to butter up the toasted whims
of vixens sliced from bread
instead - he'll cover them in cinnamon
and soak their edge till drenched
with his battered tongue of sadomasochism
known as French.

because - he can - he could - he does -

because because because because - because of the wonderful things he does

and as it goes - their relations were based merely on the loosely threaded hope
that he would find their fascination with his every acted antic a basis for a relationship
when in fact their admiration was in every regard a putrid offense of hollow intention
and they were not worth a moment of his time.

the ugly truth reveals the pretty people and their lies.

amor nervosa

poets never know the extent to which they effect the world
they are butterfly wings on an open sea
oblivious to tsunamis

as it goes - we are all poets
crawling, hiding, changing, flying
waiting for the day when death proves us wrong

he dabbled with the finer points
felt-tip pens and black ink ribbons
he tore the earth apart in search of words
and what he found was a desperate need
to simply love those very things
he sought to capture in written verse

coffee cakes now decorate the inside of her mind
maple butter leaves
gingerbread acorns
hot vanilla lattes
all vices for an invalid and yet
when she brings herself around
she wets the appetite of my humility

humanity does that to me
gets me off and turns me on
reminds me I'm nothing but
a fierce and wonderful number
on the abacus of life

[i need to make this abacist my wife]

the born-agains will think me something awful
but I will satisfy their peculiar lust for prophecy
become to them their Antichrist
solidify the truth of lies
that what we speak on earth
will be true in heaven
because when it comes down to it
the Holy Spirit is just another name for
Hope Deferred
both of which make my heart sick
and God can suck my prick
if He thinks I'll fast in flames
quietly in the night
instead
I'll share my plight and scream into the secret place
while every face is turned upon the Lamb
I'll be the burning man
who keeps the saints awake
for Christ's sake
I'm finished with this myth.



The feminine boys will swallow love like Ipecac
inducing what they deem to be inspiration
vomiting their ideology on the world
fooling the masculine girls
into thinking they are unique
but that's what they think
girls are clever creatures in the end
and see through vain attempts to act like men
the funny thing is
they seem to adore kids
and if desperate enough, will take us in
continue the nurturing process
that our mothers failed to complete
unraveling our belly buttons
to create proverbial umbilical cords
made from the scraps of
oblivious concern
or
the notion we will change
and thus a shallow relationship is created
from the seed of 'eventuality'
so the funnier thing is
both hers and his
inability to admit
shit happens
and sometimes its fun to play in it

The fatherless will become whores with hardened hearts
never trusting men
but then
they never trust themselves
they will tamper with habitual sin
and enter in to vicious cycles
of dependency
rendering their free will useless
to enlist in the listless army
of passive-aggressive tendencies
these are the ones to be cautious of
falling hook, line and sinker
for anything even resembling
a chance to love or be loved
they will sink into the ink
of the octopus
these wayward fish
who think they must counter the flow
but barely learn to swim
on their own accord
silly little fishies
the beak of the squid
will swallow you whole

he tinkered with the duller points
keyboard strokes and left button clicks
he tore the earth apart in search of what
he deemed to be a perfect reason to live:
a reason to live
and what he found was a desperate excuse
to exist within the confines of
comfort and casual conversation
the wealthy make acquisitions
the poor make mergers
he never knew an extremist he liked
he never met a moderate he respected
and it hit him square between the eyes
we create the meaning and essence
of our lives

We are, We realize, We become, and We define

the lines inside her palm
curve outward to the sea
i float inside her longevity
she is the starling passerine I desire
perched lightly on her enigmatic branch
colorful and full of song
and here I have been chasing swans all along!
i love she loves her father
and love him just as well
for fathers can shape the sound of a woman's bell
and hers is too soon divine
but not rung soon enough
in the tower of my mind

I can never destroy my ego
but i will take down the principalities of elitism in my life
pride has many minions at it's side
jealousy
bitterness
boasting
and I...
I will defecate on those that equip themselves with these attributes
I will refuse service to many
and have compassion on the few
I will choose to ignore the spectacle that has been made of mercy
grace - freely given - to draw the eyes of the ignorant
I wont be fooled by impostors
by acknowledging my own pretense
I will have enough sense to discern the 6th realm
and every dimension that follows
The hollow space between my dreams and vision
will have incisions made along it's spine
to allow the gases of procrastination to
dissipate into the sky
And I...I will fight those that rise against me
to find that peace is only present
when the violent are at rest
The best is yet to come.

poets never know the extent to which they effect the world
they are caterpillars in the garden
oblivious to their insignificance

as it goes - we are all poets
in a world that needs more than words

and the birds of our desire will be our end.

Food for Thought

The intent of leaving the comforts of my home to go shopping was to purchase a whole, cooked chicken from the deli section of my local friendly neighborhood, insert store here.

I returned however with an assortment of finger foods; the consequences of shopping whilst in hunger. I say “in hunger” because the pain that tends to accompany an empty stomach is very similar to what I imagine labor to be like. This is not an exaggeration. The emptiness inside begins to take shape and kick and grow until it feels as though it is actually ripping through you. Thanks god I don’t have a vagina or else I would have given birth to an insatiable appetite that smelled like mustard and 8 hour old enchiladas.
[I threw the mustard in for effect]

More likely than not, we have all been caught in the super-market aisle, staring down food with lustful eyes, after having not eaten anything substantial for an extended period of time. This seems to be a habitual act with me; a tradition if you will, where upon entering the retail store I am immediately transported to the set of “Supermarket Sweep” and given the divine appointment to clear the store of all things fattening, un-nourishing, unedifying, sugary, and just plain bad for me.

It is not unusual to come home with several bags teeming with unhealthy, edible delights: sorbet, corn dogs, bags of sugar, cartons of lard, cookie dough, packs of butter, candy bars, potato chips, pot pies, lasagnas, beer, whiskey, nicotine, small children, black tar heroine…parsnips.

Naaa, I’m just kidding, I don’t buy parsnips.

I have no strategy when I enter the store, no routine, no focus and absolutely no self control. I fulfill every whim, every desire, and every mouth-watering wish. I leave no aisle untouched, no department unsolicited, no end cap ignored. I am frantic and effortless in my selection. If it sounds good in the least bit, it’s mine. My hunger justifies my ignorance.

Tonight I purchased Diet cookies because the picture on the box looked amazing. The diet cookies were not amazing. They were awful. They were in fact, total crap. Actually, I have crapped better cookies than the ones I purchased tonight, in impulse.

When I arrived home, I promptly prepared myself a meal of onion-stuffed olives, pickle Wedges, pepper-jack cheese, strawberries, oysters in cotton-seed oil, parmesan-basil Wheat Thins, a spinach salad with basil-ranch dressing, and a cheap red wine that was cleverly labeled, “Red”. [There is an image of blood splatter on the bottle however so the fact that it is cheap does not matter because I can entertain those miniscule but ever so present fantasies of vampirism.]

Two hours later, my stomach is in knots and I have the slight taste of regret in my throat which, coincidentally, is very similar to vomit. As I write this, I am partially buckled over the keyboard, wondering when the dry, wet or mixed heaving will begin and I will finally obtain rest from sheer exhaustion, and also passing horrible alcohol gas - that is, gas that your body produces after a hiatus from drinking alcohol. As a matter of fact, my roommate and I were just discussing this phenomenon earlier in the evening. I laughed nonchalantly as we agreed that the most putrid aftermath of gas or runs or solid matter is produced shortly after the night of your great return to beer or liquor or wine. God obviously enjoys bathroom humor because he saw it necessary to fill me with his holy spirit. As it goes, the Holy Spirit dwells within the folds and creases of your large intestine, pushing slowly on your colon, as to encourage you to pray.

Tonight, Ladies and Gentlemen, I found salvation. Then, I jiggled the handle.

Somewhere between hearing David Ruprecht’s voice cheer me on as I tossed cookies into my cart and realizing that I need to start chewing my food better, [specifically bananas and noodles], I asked myself “How often do I do this?”

How often do WE do this?

Hungry, thirsty, in need of substance, practically dying for something real, something sincere and honest and true…we turn to immediate pleasures. Our unfulfilled longing becomes uncontrollable lusts. Our visions for the future are traded for immediate perspective. We justify the relationships we are in by the pain in our guts, the aching in our hearts - and we fill ourselves with every foul thing: codependency, deceit, fear, jealousy, hatred, pride, greed, contempt, guilt, bitterness, rage, laziness, ice cream bars, double fudge brownies, triple cream pies, quadruple sliced bacon….and so on and so forth, thinking that we are satisfying our souls, filling our lives…when in reality….we are expediting an early death.

And in the end….we are left discontent, dissatisfied, and miserable….still starving, still thirsting, still in pain…and we soon find out that what goes in, must come out…and we are left to wade in a puddle of our own spew, as flecks of corn and strands of spaghetti squirm their way into our crevices…and….well…you get the point.

So the moral of the story is: Don’t buy cheap wine.