May 06

Trashcan Man

It was a matter of fact
Something Trashy didn't have 
All he had was a matter of time 
That was running out
Always something of flame
We knew Trashy was to blame 
I guess we never really understood
What he was about 

But his name
Became a game
I remember how we would shout

"Trashman
Come to get rid of the mess of the human race?
Soon you're gonna burn away the town
Are you gonna burn the whole damn world down?"
Young Trashy, Trashy was our clown

"Hey, Trashman
Don't you think it's best you burned off your face?
'Cause we're sick and tired of looking at you cry"
And to this day, I wonder why we felt so big 
When we saw our words leaking out of Trashy's eyes 

It was a matter of love
Something Trashy didn't know
Have I told you all the words we would call him? 
He was a matter of flame
Always hating at the rain 
Audio download:
Trashcan Man.m4a
Mar 28

Bonewhite Sailor

   (A/N: This is another part of my novel that I enjoyed writing... feedback -good and bad- are much appreciated!)
   

   Kiato stepped into the dimly lit room, his pulse racing. The heavy door slammed shut behind him, and he jumped at the loud noise that seemed to echo off every corner of his mind on agonizing vibrations. When his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he saw the bars that were supposedly keeping him safe from whoever was rotting behind them. "H...hello?" 

   "Come for my head?" A broken voice sounded from somewhere within the darkness of the cell, followed by a fit of manic, raw-sounding giggles. "They say they're gonna kill me, darlin,' any day now, they've been sayin' it for days and days and days and..." 
Mar 27

What is a right?

Daylight swims in puddled rain
Milking Sunday afternoons with pain
Shattering the weakest segment of chain.  
Daylight questions dreamers' answers
Dogs of hellfire, moonlit dancers
Feet pounding the Earthlight into cancer.

We've dug our hands into the dirt
Of society, planted our children there,
Letting grow into this corporate disease;
Is our future of weeds? 
We've grown ourselves off of so much hurt
So will anyone care
Mar 01

Photos

Feb 21

Kiato's Deduction Scene.

This is one of the scenes in my novel I'm writing that I particularly enjoyed creating... feedback much appreciated, I'm entering it into a contest. :)

   Kiato leaned forward on his chair, resting his elbows on his knees casually, the cup of hot tea that was now resting just behind his elbow swaying dangerously close to spilling all over his lap. "Well, I could tell you're a servant. The merchant's, I suppose. What's your name, love?"
Feb 19

Beast

And with that
The world exploded in front of you
And you tried to catch the pieces in your mouth
But found humanity was in flames
Burning what it landed on.
You shielded your eyes 
But found that your hands were made of paper
And you slowly took in the animals behind you
As you yourself became human.
"Take me back
Take me back to when I was not of beast
But of animal.
I shall walk on four legs
Not as a bow or cower
But as something not man;
Who is beast,
Not I. 
Take me back."

And the world rained back at you 
As she smiled,
Her smile not quite there
And yet seen to those looking.
"If beast is man,
Then are they destroying themselves?
Are they looking at animals
As if
they were the beast man is becoming? 
And you nod, the ground shaking with the movement,
And the Earth looks at you once,
Then closes her eyes slowly,
Feb 06

Trap

How foolish it was of me
To become trapped in the endless spinning of your words
And find myself on an island made of syllables
With nobody around but for you.
But even you were everywhere 
In the sand 
In the trees
In the water I couldn't dare to touch 
There was so much of you
That you weren't really there at all
Accepting the thoughts in which you burned into my brain
Making me want to pretend I could reach out 
And grab you by the neck 
And scream in but an undertone,
"Take me back! 
This island has brightened words best left in the dark
And surrounded me with questions best left with one answer." 
But instead I fell into your words
Which to my dismay, were twisted into love,
Bent to the limit until you could say that love was what I fell into
Like a trap between your closed hands
Or a universe folding into your black hole eyes
As your letter entangled me
Jan 28

MOCKBETH -FINISHED(?) VERSION

   SCENE ONE:


   (Enter WITCHES.)
FIRST WITCH:
When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lighting, or in rain?

SECOND WITCH:
When the hurly-burly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won.

THIRD WITCH:
That will be ere the set of sun.

FIRST WITCH: T
he set of sun, with colors orange…

(SECOND and THIRD WITCHES turn slowly to glare at FIRST WITCH.)

SECOND WITCH:
(To the THIRD WITCH.) How does she expect me to rhyme something with orange?

THIRD WITCH:
Door-hinge kind of rhymes with orange…

SECOND WITCH:
No it doesn’t!

FIRST WITCH:
(Offering.) There’s a mountain in Wales called Blorenge…

THIRD WITCH:
What does Blorenge have to do with anything?

SECOND WITCH:
Come on ladies, I’m done being dramatic for the day.
(WITCHES stomp offstage. Curtain.)
 
   SCENE TWO:  
 
Jan 28

MOCKBETH -COMPLETE(?) VERSION

   SCENE ONE:


   (Enter WITCHES.)

FIRST WITCH:
When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lighting, or in rain?

SECOND WITCH:
When the hurly-burly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won.

THIRD WITCH:
That will be ere the set of sun.

FIRST WITCH: T
he set of sun, with colors orange…

(SECOND and THIRD WITCHES turn slowly to glare at FIRST WITCH.)

SECOND WITCH:
(To the THIRD WITCH.) How does she expect me to rhyme something with orange?

THIRD WITCH:
Door-hinge kind of rhymes with orange…

SECOND WITCH:
No it doesn’t!

FIRST WITCH:
(Offering.) There’s a mountain in Wales called Blorenge…

THIRD WITCH:
What does Blorenge have to do with anything?

SECOND WITCH:
Come on ladies, I’m done being dramatic for the day.
(WITCHES stomp offstage. Curtain.)
 
   SCENE TWO:  
 
Jan 21

Names

Hello,
I was just wondering... 
What comes to your mind
When someone mentions my name?
When your name is sounded out
Carelessly
By someone else
(Obviously they don't know
How much it means to me) 
I think of backstage conversations
Onstage pretending 
Shared words with little meaning 
Except to enjoy
Like a bit of honey
On a spoon.  
I think of 
Lives in a nutshell 
Cold water and wet towels 
Dripping hair and chattering teeth 
(Of course the sun is warm
But it's never warm enough)
And the idea of cold
That is enjoyed 
Yet never quite what was expected.
When you hear my name
Do you think of the same things I do? 
Or do you just hear it 
And let it go?    



     
 
Jan 16

MOCKBETH (NOT FINISHEd YET.)

SCENE ONE:


   (Enter WITCHES.)
FIRST WITCH: When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lighting, or in rain?

SECOND WITCH: When the hurly-burly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won.

THIRD WITCH: That will be ere the set of sun.

FIRST WITCH: The set of sun, with colors orange…

(SECOND and THIRD WITCHES turn slowly to glare at FIRST WITCH.)

SECOND WITCH: (To the THIRD WITCH.) How does she expect me to rhyme something with orange?

THIRD WITCH: Door-hinge kind of rhymes with orange…

SECOND WITCH: No it doesn’t!

FIRST WITCH: (Offering.) There’s a mountain in Wales called Blorenge…

THIRD WITCH: What does Blorenge have to do with anything?

SECOND WITCH: Come on ladies, I’m done being dramatic for the day.

(WITCHES stomp offstage. Curtain.)
 
   SCENE TWO:  
 
Jan 14

Brainstorm #2

Maybe it could be mocking the play Macbeth -Mockbeth. I don't know... 
#brainstorming 
Jan 10

Glass Child (Eventually going to be a song.)

She's the beginning's end
Pouring out and in again
Glass child has painted friends
But she can make them real with her hands
Icy eyes and cotton words
Seconds counting blotting thirst
Swallow yet another quote
Running eyes and burning throat 

Searchlight ghosts 
Taken
Feed my hopes
Again 
Breathe the common dream
This isn't how I'd hoped it to be
Walking half the world 
Just to make yourself a scene
But she won't stay
Let's hope it doesn't rain on her today 

She's the remaining smile 
I asked her if she'd stay a while 
She's a raging aging child 
Drink adulthood low on trial 
She always was the better man 
Though she's always made her day with stamps 
But now she's here with empty friends
Nowthat she has known the end  

Searchlight ghosts 
Taken
Feed my hopes
Again 
Breathe the common dream
Jan 08

Laughing

The words are laughing at me.
I can hear them, tumbling out of the walls
And dripping onto the paper
Yet never in the right way,
Almost as if they are here
Only to insult me
To drive me mad
Until I have nothing left but 
The words which killed me.
The "once upon a time"
That sits on my tongue
And yet never finds its way into my pen
Is breathing down my neck
And into the lungs of my first word.
The colors are taking hold of the lines
And the curves
Of this torture device we call language,
And I spill the blood of my paragraph
Onto the floor
Falling through the crack in the wall
And taking its time 
In dying.  
 
Jan 03

Storming my brain and stuff

Maybe something about split personalities and/or alter-egos. Someone connecting to an alter-ego and going to them for advice, and eventually becoming this fake person whenever their real self can't handle things. Maybe they accidently hurt people they care about as their alter-ego, and have to make a decision between lives. Maybe they use the alter-ego as an excuse of sorts.  
Actually that sounds kind of boring I'll have to come up with other things to happen...   
#brainstorming