Abandon My Toys - Foxygen (+playlist)

The Black Angels - Live at Rockpalast 2011 (Full Show)

Arcade Fire - Here Comes the Night Time

omg.. from january 2009

Nina finds the little gifts he left:

a tiny crystal snowflake
the red heart-crash in the shallow pond
dandelion tufts
stolen pyramid light

*

i didn't mean to make you sad.
check the lock on the fence..

*

a key that only recognizes her hands

*

and next to the tree where the darkness ends..

*

wrapped in kelp, a lilac colored sea shell filled with all the sounds of the ocean


*

turn it over, the songs change

*

Nina does and hears a sound that only a together-star can make:
a spinning swishing sound mixed with static, piano & the happy laughter of two small children

*

The Growlers - Hung at Heart - Full Album

Foxygen - Oh Yeah (Vinyl)

Simon & Garfunkel - The Sounds of Silence (Audio)

i tweaked it, is it tighter? 'which do i love more, lace-art writing our baby,

chili dogs & reptilian men
wearing
'To blind-side God'
T-shirts


the reluctant whisper

DEATH IS THE ANSWER TO LIFE

my heart, A bank for roses

poke in
to look around

but not enough
to start writing
the mammalion of salvation
for this sacred planet

but you don't love me
I could be your tape recorder
your
meaning-less comic
a phat bottle of
how to court an amorous
-I almost said
A. Normous-

scrollings
of
haha!

everyone again -->
I Love
prizes without meaning
this S(k)a runk feeling
plastering clouds on a cool blue ceiling
Hey!
Now
IS the
Art !
smoky-glass wishes
boyish capers of nimbly
Literally
I Love
Youth
the last spending of dollahs
in a script
you could be mounting a horse;
you the rude wanton

star

and
we end up
leaving your
love-bruised body
dangling over the HiWay
for the jagged majestics of ?
-fuck-
I never cared to watch mick jagger but that style works on you
or you work it
so just
know that I am curtail'd of cough syrup
cigarettes
alcohol
pot
all drugs
& mind blowing sex
but
I'll fuck in the weirdly lit cemetary with you
heaping victorious hooks of
CAUTION! DANGER AHEAD
don't fall
this is the end of the suction cup
and
my mind is growing blunt
so

funkAhDellaTize
my inherited dysfunction throws me into social retard
rapped hemisphere mode

Mike Doughty Talks about his Memoir "The Book of Drugs" on Soundcheck

in the darkness

hey - eyes

I'd
been
salting
and bagging
fries
(french)
and feeling
the ming of me
die
while
in the doorway
you stand
wearing
a jacket type thing
smoking minutes
like
silence
as
the back-drop
unfurls
like

a cool feathery

whim

FOXYGEN

Foxygen - Shuggie - Live at The Hype Hotel 2013

The National - "Demons"

this twibble of tweet, timber of sweet!

the sun is
rising
my terror
a
dark

wall
of
blank pages

imagined sex
and yes
alas
platoons of
resignation



no more games of fire-trolley
at the Inn. just me
alone in my apartment
wearing too much make-up
and
eating
sour gummi worms and dry toast.


Oh! Co ez stare!
a board by bare, I burn
this ending
this rhino party
this twibble of tweet,
timber of sweet!
whimper of bleep

beggar fan and
thief

*

a trinket of stars
taped to us
trailing
into sleep




;;

play a song, do something

Sonny and the Sunsets - Antenna to the Afterworld - Green Blood

Thin Lizzy - Whiskey in the jar

a new ancient dot-a-long

connected
with nothing
but
typefont
we enter a new ancient dot-a-long
lines
mapped out
by push-button fingers
poking
through dark holes:
a crazy diamond [wish you were here] hindsight
one third
of our thoughts
prodigiously [troublesome]
the sum of too many sinkings
in an ocean of arsenic solitude -
sea greed for generations beyond

our words:
tendrils
submerged
in waves of light

don't you see

I still
drown
to
find
a poem
about
a slim
flower
from
Atlantis

all metal
-headed
and
fishtail braids
sprung from the brine
[hypothetical]
with a smile
so calm
that it almost hurts

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Higgs Boson Blues

SOUL COUGHING - IRRESISTIBLE BLISS (i never get sick of this cd)

Von Haze - Looking Down

DIE APOKALYPTISCHEN REITER - Wir Reiten (OFFICIAL VIDEO)

still my favorite german band.

Infected Mushroom - Riders on the Storm (remix from The Doors) [HD]

alphawezen - rain (unofficial version)

i really shouldn't write anything, being in the mood, i am. bad. bad. bad mood. all i did today was eat. bad things. like: hot dogs, salt n vinegar chips, cookies, candy.
my neck and shoulders hurt hurt hurt and i am afraid to take anymore arthritis pills.
see what i mean? went to my bad place in a matter of seconds.
so i will stick to the positive. i finally set up my 5 gallon death tank. i broke my own rule - which is - always buy the biggest tank you can possibly manage. it would be cruel to actually put a fish in this aquarium.

billy idol - Catch My Fall - i always thought this was just another love song but after watching the video/video, i think it is actually about PTSD. at any rate the vid like all of his vids is so over-the-top, with all of the little fires and that glove - he never takes it off, not even in the shower..

so i am posting the non-vid. lol

Nouvelle Vague - Manner of Speaking & sex in our little world of unselves

silently
my shadow
snakes across your waking grin—

I have ascended on you.

To melt in my mouth?

Yes. Open-ended.

Oh, I. Am. Feeling a
comprehensive rise.

I will have to slide down and open my invisible jaw.

Heh.. I haven't decided if your blackest eyelashes
in all of their monofilament depth
are soft as wings or if they give me the creeps..

OKAY. That just ruined the moment.

Oh, geeeeeeeez.

The Dead Weather - I Can't Hear You (Studio Version)

Steely Dan - Kid Charlemagne (Live)

of moon spikes and bad radio listings

we stayed up late at someone else's garden party
a quarter to two and I'm thinking
wildly
impressed with the enormity of how small-time is
drinking a 'slow low'
next to the charcoal grill and
sleepy
white blossoms
I pull a nickle and take a drag
of what I like to call
grounded oyster -
'I'll tell you what'
you were the lumpy to my bumpy
under that dern
canoe

oh wow!

how cool it is to be able to fly thru the internet instead of having to crawl on broken glass! i have a new ISP! ... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i don't want to leave for work!

crackin' on the magic or

shoot the angel tethered to the grave

and the night presses against the tiny aspen

and the hunter's aim shifts

over shadow

over space


how's that for poetic lace?

a flutter to the bruise?

nah, your words only calm and stradle

thanks. i love you, too.


................






-another time-

forsaken.
on the back of the photo you wrote,
'they never came'.
another rite of passage -
the dark, white
surf, rushes our house by the sea

you ignite
the dangling from within;
this dreamed universe
extended.

I miss you:
ring-of-chandelier, hot-pin
.x.
gravel of sea-chatter
light in-this-s]hell

............

i know you hate indie.
but. this song reminds me of you.

the miles cast slippery bends, up ahead

Nina keeps her eyes on the road
the bangles on her arms;
small silver songs
as innocuous as
the sun in the perfect blue sky
next to her -
he lay like a rock in his blanket
a corpse
the alive
scooped from his whole being
eyes black as a funeral
she hated when he got this way
hated it all
for him
and for herself

are you thirsty

no

your soul may melt into your body's fever

the soul is a river
it flows forever
winds around the stars
like a ribbon

god
you are so
dialed-in

sorry

she tries to smile but it feels shaky
and fake -
she felt like a moon's crater
spread with embalming fluid

slow down
you're speeding

suddenly she hates the metal box
that is his heart
she hates being afraid
she hates feeling alone

-as one-

we land on our sides


azaleas

zig zagging
and
predictable

emptied

from life's little bluffings

scattered
neon
letters

the moon nods
in and out


happiness

does not overcome us


honey
bee

sitting next to a lit lamp
changing numbers
your eyebrows
look like
sequentially
astrophes
[does that make sense?]

apparently

it is the moon's sky
and we are housed
in this poem

a swum-out
script

you and I

the actual where

I don't know

after all

it is night

and

every move

only

shadows

the ceiling

shattering
but

still

I do the dishes
the moon
drifts from a window
to
where the cat sits

and

perhaps

weekend
puh O lease
sirens
as we box more
boxes

marked

with the pale print of our hands

I'm In.

On piggy-back. Until I get my equipment moved by my regular IP, because I still have a year left on the contract. ugh. My spotify won't play though.. "Because your account is being used somewhere else." heh.
yeah. so I am all moved in. At the expensive of my left knee getting all jacked up.
So just in case I can't get in here tomorrow.. (My anniversary ..so to speak .. 2 yrs of sobriety and no sex.) none. nada. Two years. I still have my last pack of cigs. The pack I brought with me on the train. yeah I know it's, road to nowhere, but you can replace road with train.



I tweaked the Scrabble poem from 03.02.13

We , and where is our Scrabble game?

A blank night
another
breath
Are you
say I
ruined with perfectly
you
kitty in the static snow
little bunny ears
connecting fronds

you review my stats
and
all the lonely days & good-byes
your hair drowning your shoulders
as you drift
against this hole in my eyes
you
the weather in
this room
cool yet to come
I am John Keats in a tie-dye t-shirt
in your lap of milky
tying
day to
day
talk about
the knotted and twisted
winter:
on actual paper , the clouds

in

your porcelain

smile

let's decorate!

I can move in next week!

I am going to attempt, once again, to achieve and maintain, a modern,
minimalistic look / feel.

Here is the photo that will keep me on track..




to have a personal photo, blown up, and mounted on anything from acrylic to raw aluminum is expensive.
I don't have a couch or a coffee table.. I have.. one blow-up mattress, a velvet chair and a storage cube. oh, and one TV tray. I am leaving the area rug here. Well.. just thinking out-loud.



I also want a 'sideboard' .. I could shoot myself - I found a vintage, stereo console / cabinet at the Goodwill, a couple of weeks ago for $30 and didn't buy it. omg, how stupid! It looked like this



only in a dark wood. I just found a few online.. for $350!

I have stuff in, March Issue of Eye Socket Journal

http://eyesocketjournal.tumblr.com/

i have a poem in..

UNLIKELY

The Flutter King is a Loneling

It's All Up To The Winged Woman Of The Night-Eye Clan

Tall and
slim she once was The Search that purred
now herding
the last of the whimpering
beasts through abandoned villages of thatch
feral chicks run amok
She is following
The Man carrying The Book of Distant Galaxies
he is traveling with his baby owl
to the little
clay
Throne of Faith
elsewhere The Gatherers are already boarding the train
that casket of mildew
that moving nest of secret incubatina
O yeah
this is real hunger and not a game
the graceless alligator of life
plods along and
Death stops to scribble
on many a sooty shelter door
reminding her to keep the herd moving
to keep the rifle loaded

++++Tales From Topographic Oceans (complete album) - Yes

Love You - Syd Barrett (The Madcap Laughs)

Daphne Odora

Daphne Odora came into this world surrounded by the first snow iris blooming in the ruins of the once great rotunda where the rousting & roasting of the false Sky Prophet took place. That scal(l)awag. On the morning of her birth .. the turn of the whales had special meaning— a strange liturgy of myth and wind, breaking the wave patterns on the twelve holy shoals— paper-white & sparkling * in the near distance— crimped bees buzzed through the golden light as we collected the first mutter nectar just for you until the bent things trussed by their own chrysalis exploded all along the bulwarks like the blazing stars suspended over your cradle * * * * * * * * * * * * broken clouds, through the east hang low— lightning crawls : a light show blooming out— we sing glad hymns our voices a scintillatingly mix of all the world's emptiness uprooted & the painted angels on the walls— just another wreckage of colors falling plunging wings of white— a sequence of holes in the elegant arches of this small steeple

Everest - Into The Grey

'and a cross, never rose before me' by Tasha Klein

Devoid of the Lord I crawl along in my survivalist suit & I smell terrible things -- pale dead fish the soup kitchen's only truth -- steel upon steel another day here recreant thin as the ocean's last spray -- Welcome To The Perpetual Kind living under the Fulton Bridge or in an abandoned Pay-by-Day I never got sister's re- union invites or the news about how Uncle Welter's flatfish prostrate flatfished. No I was in the between not the moving along and up only pre tending to swing on God's slippery silvery branches my marooned breath drawn as I reached that felt gate -- the Everyone-Eye pointing to the barren earth: the remembered neighborhood where cars once filled with noisy youth 'Your weight is mine' that ancient snare still scrawled across the old water tower & somewhere deep in the posioned foliage She - the ancient one eats fake chorizo & levitates near her clustered mad the new gorey the spiritless grim relics in broken chant turning greyer into something even greyer and a sun lights me up and I become as calm, as I am tall and the eleven, slyly, becomes the seven hymns like coral curling around the dark solace of a dead tree's trunk hollow as the stray pond yonder a bone for your arid garden of rouged mid-day angels their cracked wings no longer supple enough to unfurl nightly the minds that glow hot a chemical reaction to this distorted pinball of twilight spiraling down from the temple in the sky not that one that Mary built there in the middle of all God's dead logs and stumps and before that a sea had been kind once with its endless offerings there was peace in the water beneath the re painted stars and in each footstep a gladness as we gently spooled through groves of petals eddies of roots still growing all the way to the Center our necks chaff in starched collars the hustlers the local tossers fallen wizards the dealers & the wheelers a new parade to stand before the altar altered by the sheer weight of earth's newest Sky Prophet, his childlike expression as fresh as his red-tinged whiskers he promised to cut sin and sorrow right out of our hearts through some rediculously over-glorified revival speaker who drew with great fervor a seven of swords as the official start of another year the Sky Prophet remained seated like a holy scarab on a greasy spoon until finally the band started with Bound Subs in the Jungle formerly Welcome to the Jungle only the green jungle would soon be gone up in smoke-clouds that tumbled morbid colors across that lush treeline animals cornered by the spreading fires leaving behind a poisonous residue that continuously snakes to what remains of the forgotten concrete jungles we call home

Dancing In Dreams Past Pale Trees, Surface The Butterflies

"Debussy is the sea." She said, in the voice of his favorite watercolor (if it had a voice), her make-up, all Krishna hues. The bottom of her T- shirt, tied up, her stomach full baroque of VENUS DOES NOIR, the poems on her skin -- and suddenly the garden-party turned into -- just the shadows of people ~ their conversations un-important and far away. Her sister took a picture of them. Years later, he found the photo and was struck by the color of her hair -- like the color of earth, twined together in rain ~ her eyes, the color of golden shores, circled with sky , as the dawn behind them, appeared to shift against the trees. ~ Shoegaze, he thought. Not the music but the actual sandals she wore. Just a boat-girl nonchalantly sharing her herb as his inner voice screamed, turn around, and GO! LEAVE! NOW! But he stood frozen, a blooming loon, in some, weird, outside, green-wax museum. Her eyes strummed the lines tied around him < --- a small salamander trapped in her magnificent stare. ~ How he had loved the sleepy simplicity of her hipless skirt's silk whisper / pausing / to invite knees / living legs / feet stuck in those ridiculous sandals. Ferocious, the bleeding edges. The want. The hidden hurt. ~ And Later, Smoking More Fat Numbers In A Motel Room: her hair her kiss the deep trigger of all that was / corners falling / away / always-butterflies / needles / on go / hold the fatality. Like a rocky path, she trampled definition; a trail floating as the corridor stumbled. ~ We Were. As Windows gathered, packaged, and sold our fears. Yes! I remember: the pinot. kisses. depth. teeth. then. sour. tongues. drew. away. We became the monsters. The head in the swamp, the body of all rivers, in a Somebody World. And in a city, built on cracks - we coded the castle out, but kept the royal map, tattered and shopworn as angel trivia.

Skintall/Skintell/Skinfall (tweaked)

Veranda-smirk
wave-length
tube-dart,
how have you been?

Time has no even taste

Pull your mouth off
the gloss, muppethead.

Death is:

satiny & birdless

.....................breathless

We did die ---
in delicate threads of light,
our hands full of cut shadows.

Messy-eyes
backbump-fiend
attic-doll
syrette of rosy,
hope you've been well.
I been combing empty dimensions &
need to come down
for some real funzz.

Submarine-brain
drop-whisper
sleep-tone
affixed ..

Flesh-tunnel
blue-foam
glow-ruffle
shaved-wing
bent-pillow,

see ya around,

x

Calexico covering Arthur Lee & Love's - 'ALONE AGAIN, OR..'

stupid

this one always makes me laugh