They'll never understand,
but we won't hold it against them.
There's an infinite space
beyond the upstairs' hemline
& upstairs, the windows spin,
trying their best to suck me in.
Backwards, towards advancement,
they try wadding my spine like T.P.,
only to have their fingers snap
like brittle ribbon pulled too taut.
See, we'll never understand,
but let's not hold it against us.
I notice my thoughts are made
from the same mettle a songbirds,
a gilded gong, Madeleines, words,
lid-filtered light & sugar packets.
Before long, we'll all be dead
& happy as a newborn.
A god wakes up after dreaming
seeming meanings, corporeally worn out.
There's a finite place for your failures.
My life is a voluptuous thought.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
{ Wheels Of Steal } by Big Sway AKA Ray-Ray Swaney
HOW can you forget a name like that?
HOW can your forget a face
Like that
Hm?
As they say in ancient Greece,
"There ain't no cure for the summer-time blues".
And no damned need for no damned measure
I stand by here-forth with an apostrophe Q.
Run-on sentences fall apart and run off, away from
Glorious summers under willow's dark weeping touches-
The kind of eyes reserved for the muse's apparitions.
Fine feathers form a spinal mission. As such:
A name / a face
HOW can you forget?
Like that
Hm?
Glazed lips...
Carve my name into your shoulder blades...
A swirl of odor,
A swirl of caramel on yr tongue and I
Drink deeply of yr dark carafe, Shiraz
Uncorked...
( I make love to the silences ).
Touching the root with bare fingers,
We linger on the chair of the fruit;
The riches, like works of Chinese fire
Make all logic moot
And loot, alms.
Fingers playing in a loom
Marvel at magnetic heart strings
Written in palms.
Things as they are, I ought
To not worry so much being caught
Doing nothing wrong-
King Kong vs. a knot.
The wind's picking ups
And I'm collecting rain on my
Chimera turned lover.
The needles sting the skins
Racing down animal highways. I'm over
All this immature bullshit, I'm in
To you...
HOW can your forget a face
Like that
Hm?
As they say in ancient Greece,
"There ain't no cure for the summer-time blues".
And no damned need for no damned measure
I stand by here-forth with an apostrophe Q.
Run-on sentences fall apart and run off, away from
Glorious summers under willow's dark weeping touches-
The kind of eyes reserved for the muse's apparitions.
Fine feathers form a spinal mission. As such:
A name / a face
HOW can you forget?
Like that
Hm?
Glazed lips...
Carve my name into your shoulder blades...
A swirl of odor,
A swirl of caramel on yr tongue and I
Drink deeply of yr dark carafe, Shiraz
Uncorked...
( I make love to the silences ).
Touching the root with bare fingers,
We linger on the chair of the fruit;
The riches, like works of Chinese fire
Make all logic moot
And loot, alms.
Fingers playing in a loom
Marvel at magnetic heart strings
Written in palms.
Things as they are, I ought
To not worry so much being caught
Doing nothing wrong-
King Kong vs. a knot.
The wind's picking ups
And I'm collecting rain on my
Chimera turned lover.
The needles sting the skins
Racing down animal highways. I'm over
All this immature bullshit, I'm in
To you...
Monday, March 8, 2010
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Horsey, side one...
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Collaborative art...
Art Blog
It's getting tough to blog on and on. Anyone want to know anything? Any ideas for posts on art?
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
{ Stick Your Fingers In The Ink } by Big Sway
Stick your fingers in the ink
Get more than you'd expected
Country music
Stains the wallpaper
More beer
Begs the buying...
Water drips on a rainy
Late-February day
Bottom-top to bottom...
Down...
Down to the lowest point, stealing
We drop in a bow
Low
Looking to how, healing
(Straight shots of feeling now)
A court-appointed clown
Drunk 'n' wheeling!
- - - -
A Rachmaninoff piano concerto
Sways fingers like bristles through my mind
Through wet paint, whistling
Working slow-pressure valves
I melt like a clock
A large Foster's cancerto sits empty
Smug
Choking on F knows what
Car doors play the night
The moon readies her crime
A small child eats her okra
Dr. Horowitz operates
Upon the ole black 'n' white
(Rides a Baltic-bound baby grand
Fearlessly in flight)
Dreaming of an opera
- - - -
Holding a prayer candle to my feet
Jesus turns them into jet packs
So we can fly through the sky all day
And drop little holy water balloons on sinners
We eat excellent pizzas, muffins and wafers
We put on masks and pretend to be each other
Until communion (I can't stomach cannibalism)
Eating a red-bound songbook
Jesus turns me into a Deep Purple hymn
And we rocket around, eating pastries, singing
"Blessed be the child who thinks he, Him"
Or some other holy vision
- - - -
Holy, hot hell!
My molars sink into tundra
My eyelids are slowly falling off
Drilling for the root
My crotch just doesn't feel like my own anymore
Same for my elbows, big toes, tip 'o' the nose
Deep down in the eyes, I'm dense anti-matter
Needing a warm flapjack
A tumbling freak sack
Fumbling in lack
A fuck (but more or less vulgar; your pick)
Hot, holy hell!
There's a crack in your logic like the Liberty Bell
Filtering a surer light
(But purer less/fuller; your pick)
Dang, yr right!
Get a fair price
For your marrow
Stay true, too
Through time's harrow 'n' kick
Cultivate love for all seasons
- - - -
Anita O'Day announces spring
Pig-latin for dough; cute
Gettin' pay like Mel Tormé
With no vibrato to boot!
Gotta run, here comes Nat
King
Cole...
Doin' the Harlem Swing
Yr vocal chords on trombone slides
Yr soles are sprouting wings
Louis Armstrong dances, wide
To Gypsy blue flame singin'
Puttin' air through funky there
Blowin' and a'winkin'
- - - -
A twinkle in the starlight
A stark kill of bedroom lightning
A barking bolt of fire-light starts
A startling, white hot art, bolting
Mulched emotions...
Electronic clippings from newspapers
Simmer at the surface like leaves...
It all boils down as heat labors
Fingers, wrought sun gardeners
Fingers, run to gardens' eve
Fingers, tend garish seas
Fingers, north wind martyrs
Grasp spirit
Bear life
If you'd please
Yourself
- - - -
Get more than you'd expected
Sticking fingers in the ink
Valencia Oranges open
Are tenderly torn door
Venerably absorbed kin
Sunlight water-founts drop
Bottom-top to bottom...
Down...
Down to the lowest point, stealing
We drop in a bow
Low
Looking to how, healing
(Straight shots of feeling now)
- - - -
Across the bow
Left reeling...
Get more than you'd expected
Country music
Stains the wallpaper
More beer
Begs the buying...
Water drips on a rainy
Late-February day
Bottom-top to bottom...
Down...
Down to the lowest point, stealing
We drop in a bow
Low
Looking to how, healing
(Straight shots of feeling now)
A court-appointed clown
Drunk 'n' wheeling!
- - - -
A Rachmaninoff piano concerto
Sways fingers like bristles through my mind
Through wet paint, whistling
Working slow-pressure valves
I melt like a clock
A large Foster's cancerto sits empty
Smug
Choking on F knows what
Car doors play the night
The moon readies her crime
A small child eats her okra
Dr. Horowitz operates
Upon the ole black 'n' white
(Rides a Baltic-bound baby grand
Fearlessly in flight)
Dreaming of an opera
- - - -
Holding a prayer candle to my feet
Jesus turns them into jet packs
So we can fly through the sky all day
And drop little holy water balloons on sinners
We eat excellent pizzas, muffins and wafers
We put on masks and pretend to be each other
Until communion (I can't stomach cannibalism)
Eating a red-bound songbook
Jesus turns me into a Deep Purple hymn
And we rocket around, eating pastries, singing
"Blessed be the child who thinks he, Him"
Or some other holy vision
- - - -
Holy, hot hell!
My molars sink into tundra
My eyelids are slowly falling off
Drilling for the root
My crotch just doesn't feel like my own anymore
Same for my elbows, big toes, tip 'o' the nose
Deep down in the eyes, I'm dense anti-matter
Needing a warm flapjack
A tumbling freak sack
Fumbling in lack
A fuck (but more or less vulgar; your pick)
Hot, holy hell!
There's a crack in your logic like the Liberty Bell
Filtering a surer light
(But purer less/fuller; your pick)
Dang, yr right!
Get a fair price
For your marrow
Stay true, too
Through time's harrow 'n' kick
Cultivate love for all seasons
- - - -
Anita O'Day announces spring
Pig-latin for dough; cute
Gettin' pay like Mel Tormé
With no vibrato to boot!
Gotta run, here comes Nat
King
Cole...
Doin' the Harlem Swing
Yr vocal chords on trombone slides
Yr soles are sprouting wings
Louis Armstrong dances, wide
To Gypsy blue flame singin'
Puttin' air through funky there
Blowin' and a'winkin'
- - - -
A twinkle in the starlight
A stark kill of bedroom lightning
A barking bolt of fire-light starts
A startling, white hot art, bolting
Mulched emotions...
Electronic clippings from newspapers
Simmer at the surface like leaves...
It all boils down as heat labors
Fingers, wrought sun gardeners
Fingers, run to gardens' eve
Fingers, tend garish seas
Fingers, north wind martyrs
Grasp spirit
Bear life
If you'd please
Yourself
- - - -
Get more than you'd expected
Sticking fingers in the ink
Valencia Oranges open
Are tenderly torn door
Venerably absorbed kin
Sunlight water-founts drop
Bottom-top to bottom...
Down...
Down to the lowest point, stealing
We drop in a bow
Low
Looking to how, healing
(Straight shots of feeling now)
- - - -
Across the bow
Left reeling...
{ Mars In Revolt }
{ Army Of One }
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