RE: Disbelief (Full Version)

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Anon Y. Mous -> RE: Disbelief (1/22/2010 18:10:27)

i and you

let me tell you some things
i've been around the block
i know stuff
let me break some things down
for you

weeelllll
don't lie
nobody likes a liar
just ask your mother
the next time she calls

get a job
make some money
spend it
buy some happiness
from who?
not me
i'm currently out of stock

be responsible
responsibility is life
do the things
that must be done
regardless
of anything

things must be done

humor is important
laughter is essential
noise to fill a room
with warmth
smile
a lot
32 teeth wide

compassion and helping
hand in hand
with the homeless
with the diseased
with the criminals
give them words
and they can make new life

room with a dog
let it lick your face
nibble your ears
know unconditional love
and revel in it

watch tv
listen to music
sleep
thinking too much
makes everyone depressed

cry
allow your face to become
delicious with salt
regularly
dispose of
the dead parts of your soul

fall in love
be truly content
channel your energy into
the best thing that will ever happen to you

have sex
use protection

and always
try your best
do what you want to do
embrace everything with
excitement
heal the world

but really
who am i to tell you this
and, damn, that was preachy




Anon Y. Mous -> RE: Disbelief (8/15/2010 4:36:41)

the writer

yes, he is a freelance writer
romantic, no?
to shelter oneself from the world
in charming, trendy, aura-inducing coffee shops
while one's imagination marvels at:

swaying,
sighing,
perhaps dark-secret-hiding forests
explored by dark-secret-hiding protagonists;

pitch-black caves which, still,
somehow,
reveal monstrous creatures
to the eyes of the hero;

ancient medieval intrigue
which leads to
queenly adultery,
royal murders,
the perfect man ascending to the throne;

deep space and hostile aliens
sending a ginormous fleet toward earth
whose advanced machinery
can only be stopped
through human-caused explosion/wire-pulling/miraculous hacking

this writer spends his days
brainstorming,
revising,
massaging his over-worked,
online-thesaurus-checking hands,

reading books for plot ideas,
watching movies for plot ideas,
watching his word count,
watching the pretty coffee shop girl,

wearing a beret,
stylizing his punctuation and capitalization,
typing on a laptop,
but writing

he is only taking a year off, of course
before majoring in literature at columbia
(already accepted)
but
in these glorious moments
he is living the life of a writer!




Anon Y. Mous -> RE: Disbelief (3/29/2011 18:19:25)

Airport

Here, I can finally glimpse happiness.

A multitude of shops beckon me
with comforting embraces ready
as I stroll lazily by.
I can rest in a hard-backed chair,
if I so choose,
and watch great machines rest their harried frames
while lights blink meaninglessly on and off all around them.

Later, I might rise and purchase myself
a thoroughly Americanized basket
of fish and chips.
I can savor a freedom from all responsibility
save wiping copious amounts of grease
from my glistening fingers.

Time can claim no stake in this wondrous place.
It is an in-between, a crossroads,
linking London and Chicago,
Seattle and Beijing,
Tokyo and Berlin.
Eternity is evident
in the dazed gazes of my fellow travelers,
most having slept only a few ungodly hours,
now grabbing breakfast while appreciating a beautiful sunset,
or, maybe later, savoring dinner as the sun bashfully rises.

All relax,
safe in the knowledge that
nothing need be done for a long while.
Any scurrying employees are phantoms,
transparent in the light of a collective ignorant bliss.

There is a certain nostalgia in this feeling,
as if we all once came from somewhere like this
and will all someday return to such a place.




Anon Y. Mous -> RE: Disbelief (7/8/2011 22:55:54)

My eyelids are drawn inexorably together

My eyelids are drawn inexorably together,
each bearing an incredible amount of weight,
as my head supports the same heavy emptiness-
a singularity in place of gray matter.
A minimum of radiation escapes its suction
and emerges as unintelligible blather.

Vestiges of my life-stuff remain,
shadows that suffice for basic necessities.
Exchanges are polite, sometimes delightful,
amply emotional and resplendent with turns of phrase.
There is even a numbness that allows for
greater risk-taking and greater rewards,
a numbness that is paired with tasteful oblivion.

Yet I have already wasted everything,
spent all on my heart’s desires,
pure and true.
The parables have done me wrong,
juicing me dry long before the world could exact its premeditated revenge.




Anon Y. Mous -> RE: Disbelief (7/18/2011 20:33:03)

Green

My hands soft, shining,
I built Rome in a day and
watched it fall by night.




Anon Y. Mous -> RE: Disbelief (8/21/2011 19:37:27)

Heart

Your heart is ugly.
Oh, so ugly.
With its valves
and reds and blues
and freakish pulsing.
And all that blood.
Jesus, that blood.
Blood to drown the eyes
and nose
and mouth
and ears
and body.

But still,
those are my eyes and nose and mouth and ears and body
and everything feels so warm, if a bit disgusting.




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