Thursday, December 11, 2008

Sunday, November 23, 2008

I LOOKED....

At your pictures today for the first time in a very long time...it sucked.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

T R U S T


I had no idea
I was your latest big mistake
I had no idea
we were dancing on someone's remains
given he is marked like me
would I see him in a crowd?
and given his lines
resembled mine
would I catch his eye?
we could hammer it out in a neutral space
and he would say
trust is a hard thing to come by these days
and you have no idea just how it will feel until it happens for real
you have no idea how bad it will feel until it happens for real
we could hammer it out in a neutral space
and he would say
she will suck you in
she will fuck you up
she will throw you away
and trust is a hard thing to come by these days
trust is a hard thing to come by these days

Monday, November 3, 2008

DREAM


There's no way you meant to be there....There's no way you meant to say that...

Monday, October 20, 2008

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Again...

I had a plan
That was built on thinking too long
Canadian winters
At home with your sisters
the romance was hard to ignore
You were beautiful
I was happy to fall
So happy to fall

I remember you searching
I thought you were searching
that's how I picked up the phone
Happy to hear you remembered the view
So glad to assume it was fate
I thought at the time it was clear
I thought at the time it was clear

So I stood at the station
With a plan and a pocket of poems
Heroically tragic
Bearded and blind with obsession
I'm a car without hope
Too close to the ditch to go far
I showed you my field
I said this is my field
But you weren't impressed

You said why are we here
Your motives are clear
In this room with a view
and so much of you
is so far from here
it's so far from here
it's so far from here
it's so far from here

Oh my heart
It just fell apart
And i wished I could show you
The same view
of you by the window and me
feeling fine
And me just feeling fine
Yeah me just feeling fine

-Mojave 3

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Birthday residue


...what I remember most is what an asshole you were / are. I honestly never thought that such hatred would have been possible. Sad if not Grimm.

"What gives you the right?
To fuck with our lives?
A devil born in paradise
A liar loves to lie
Keep watching your back
Killers always have killers on their track
Keep watching the sky
'cause you might get lucky again" - Stars

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Opinions..funny


Funny how the opinions & observations of strangers seem to mean more to people you're close to than your opinions / observations. Well not really funny...weird maybe. Sometimes change is not for the better sometimes. Maybe I'm just bored and disappointed.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Sunday or W.W.Y.D.F.C.?


...some of my best friends are the most beautiful of disasters....those who are not are merely pretending. It's amazing to me to watch how people choose or not choose how to connect to others, much of the time I just close my eyes and jump not knowing, I've learned that everything is uncertain and I can't let it stop me or drive me too crazy...I'm an asthmatic that smokes cigars...wtf is that?

I hate you...me...you...

Black Holes in the Sand or G.O.M.H.Y.F.C.


in the small hours I realize what I have done
in the small hours I realize what I have done
I held the hand that threw the stone that killed the bird that woke the city
I held the hand that threw the stone that killed the bird that woke the city and I could not feel the flower in my hand I could not feel the cracks beneath my feet and black holes in the sand.
in the small hours I realize what I have done
in the small hours I realize what I have done
I held the hand that threw the stone that killed the bird that woke the city
I held the hand that threw the stone that killed the bird that woke the city and I could not feel the flower in my hand I could not feel the cracks beneath my feet and black holes in the sand.
in the small hours I realize what I have done
in the small hours I realize what I have done
I held the hand that threw the stone that killed the bird that woke the city
I held the hand that threw the stone that killed the bird that woke the city and I could not feel the flower in my hand I could not feel the cracks beneath my feet and black holes in the sand.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

MUZAK (Inward Sonata No. 1 for Olivier Messiaen)


exodrone or aphid touch
relapse to timid sear
think darkish text whole
the thread that never cuts.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

MUZAK (Un-Even Tone Poem)


creen screen scent
against brick - licked
formula 55
on ash red leaves.

MUZAK (Seduction in Three Acts)


Prefab adoration .77
equals smile-on-lead
severed throats in flux
the salty glitter gulp.

MUZAK (study for multiple "voices")


In the coming days there will be words to these "MUZAK" pieces, some of the words will create abstract or detached images while others will be placed for their sonic quality only and may not be real words at all. Through the words and pictures I hope to create a sort of "inner music / sound / noise", that which one "hears" while reading and seeing and not by actually hearing notes or sounds.

Monday, February 18, 2008

MUZAK (Study in Six Phrases)


android or fetish peck
antibiotic fist spill
relink drone-net pulse
that strain that drills.

MUZAK (Quartet for the Eyes No. 1)


Hydrobolic bleed field
concurrence at blind - fold
static view seem
the one glass god.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

COOTIES


Wide-eyed and wonder free
that sting will disappear
eventually...or not
those distortions will evaporate
eventually...maybe
the self imposed animated cell
will collapse
eventually
inwards or out
a multi-hued stare
the intense flash of a dying star
a stale call on a rainy day
that random thought in a process of decay
all of these things will collide
eventually
and seal what should or could have been
all along.

THE GREAT SILENCE


There’s no scar keeping you from talking
no magical “silent key”
that only “they” can hear or receive
your happiness chemically disguised
and equally despised
the chaotic disposition forced leaning
on a geographically convenient tool
or any fool that will fall...then fail
i’ve read those same words
week after week after week
those very same thoughts
and actionless notions
there is no magic potion to soothe
or play dead

***(play or hum theme here )***

that cleansing blanket of white
100 backwards hops
for every step forward
a quartet meant for drifting or dreaming
an ice-storm in three movements
there are no horsemen for this particular apocalypse
just another series of deleted scenes
motionless
and waiting.

Saturday, February 16, 2008

PETRIFIED FORREST


why is there so much fear in numbers?
in a simple sequence that ignites your voice
in a simple flame of circumstance
that keeps you pacing and care-free
like that single tree at the waters edge
we stopped
as if to say “never-ending”
or at least “for now”
a series of broken links
of cartoonish gestures
expressionless and longing
the dysfunction of time and placement
of manufactured memories
a vivid pathology of apathetic passion
droning
a certain sound assigned to every moment
passing
to every instance flowing
or not
I don’t recognize this pattern now
rocks stacked upon rocks
we document the anti-motion
the destruction of air
and the stagnant breaths in between
like the strangest tale you’ll ever tell
awakening the strongest part of “that you”
we both know or knew
if I say “tomb”
do you balk or swoon?
peer downward or just stare untouched
by the over saturated scenery
that loop
like the smashing of glass idols
numbingly liberating
stunningly calm
like that single tree at the rivers edge
we pause...again
unfazed
and climbing.

Friday, February 15, 2008

ATTACK of the MUSHROOM PEOPLE


I wish I had no dreams to remember
no past experiences to dwell on
an un-photographic memory
hands that did not so clearly map out the past
a past of faces, and feelings, and feet
(the 3 Fs)
sometimes i wish i were a werewolf
on a successful search for a silver bullet
not one of those new CG types
but the kind like Oliver Reed
or Paul Naschy or Lon Chaney Jr.
the ceilings in here, like rainbows, seem to lead to nowhere real
like the words and the phrases that come and go
without a logical pattern
chaos maybe
or schizophrenia
or maybe chaos
I’m a two-headed freak sometimes...uhhh...most of the time
a filter of information with a lazy eye
so if i’m the cyclops then who or what the fuck are you???
can a permanently drawn “X” also act as a brace or harness?
I love those questionless answers in your eyes
and the volcano that follows
is there a mini monkey monster in all of us?
one that kills only to be killed
there’s no mountain for your gods to hide on ya know
and you’ve no sword here that I haven’t already felt
or knelt before
staring at the dust...and where your feet used to be
like everywhere else i go
still wishing I had no dreams
or at least the power to just say “don’t”
instead I repeat “get in” once again
and we drive up and around that circle one more time....again.
with an unspoken promise for that “next-time”
perhaps one day our substances will actually work in tandem
then we can both breathe
then leave.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

THE PHANTOM


a rarely heard tone you are
circular and unending
uniquely flawed and failing
a masked idol
with a singular cause
if Bach had only known or seen
would it have changed this emotional soundscape?
a gladiators lick-stick
caught jumping backwards mostly
daily
like the blind deceiving the blind
in that final tunnel of light
your bite all but gone
this dragon has no teeth
just two useless wings
and a cotton tail
performing in a haze of bluish green
we grasp for a melody
long since gone
random red Xs
replace that which we could see
once
the beginning to an obvious miscue
this phantom bites harder than you ever did
the banal 3rd movement
the fatal 5th
leading to that same black-hole
that same fire filled pit
what crown should I wear this time?
I’ve hidden that image again and again
tamed that memory over and over
again
ignoring the notes in between
or at least thinking i did... or could
images behind glass pressing
images of seduction and sleep
images of flesh and flame
and of places yet to be
we’ve led 1000 strange lives this past year
performed 1000 flawless scenes
spoken 1000 potent words
hummed 1000 perfect tunes
lived 1000 anxious lifetimes
...and counting.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Space Junk


The vibration of 1000 stingers
the angel of 1000 needles
pressing…massaging
like a planet of familiar noise
your voice is that obnoxious siren we hear at 4 am
like a fluidless corpse on a high-wire
when will you dive?
or drive?
and where?
not to my place I hope
it’s kinda a mess.

Astro Zombie



The total divorce from sight, sound, and mind
the thought that drove me to you
separated from the lines we knew
scattered like lifeless stars
breathless beings
that fold then phase
phase then float
mindless and life-free
a millennia away from that freak field called “you”
and what if that word were yes?
is invisibility still my protector?
or curse
or that chaotic element of disdain?
There’s a 1000 milligram answer
for everything.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Uhh...

The Great Ga....



Blue balled and glowing
like the next best thing that never leaves
the green man in a purple ship
calls you “THEM”
without realizing
the true horror of being here
in this cosmic holocaust
but with funnier cartoons.

Thursday, February 7, 2008

...apparition


A sudden cough of blue smoke
a subtle suggestion
that pushes
even further
my complete surrender
to anything
other than this.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Planet in Fury


You’re the drunken devil on my shoulder
the space-angel
to the left of every-one else
a painless alarm
with soo many stingers
the advanced collective
ignoring wit and will
an audible secret
and unexpected return
to a beautiful space
uhhhhhh
where did you go that made you come back?
the purity of notions
that ignites wars and wants
from a distance
a 12 degree slant
a 2 AM rant
turns into an invitation for devastation
and in one fantastic night of terror....
uhhhhhh ummmmmmmmmm
“again??”

Namikawa circa 1966 (Ultra Violet)



Another anxious sunrise
that lands below your feet
bowed
we have a tendency to guess recklessly
and effortless
holding one palm
to the side of my hairless head
the easy down-slide to your ankles
then lower
there’s nothing left
you think
blinking
like the capsized exo-skin
of some reptilian druid
down-sized
from what we were
once
slam and be slammed
severely, nightly
collapsing a wall a minute
100 frames per second
devastation and moon-beams
hit your eyes
simultaneously
I love that ya know.

21st Century M


It’s the chrome hardware
that really held and holds me
the fact that letting go
was in the guarantee
and we knew
but I forgot to know then
envious of all things geographical
the cause
the effect
the hum I still hear
the horror TV and the lights of color
that never forgot she was here
10 inked digits
to map an unknown universe
that eventually had to be
why does this sudden out burst make me smile now?
like a painting with a no surface...yet
an entire planet to color and sew
every moment inspiring the next
every obvious curl
an opening to something else
my funni fucking brain
that’s not so funni sometimes
but always true to the “real” and here
forgotten or not
it’s the travel I miss
varied drinks
the faces we made
and still make
everyday
it’s never really about the answers

TO BE CONTINUED......

Godzilla as Environmental Activist


If you watch one Godzilla flic this year (or EVER) make it Gozilla vs. Hedorah! (the smog monster)

In a nutshell:

Godzilla steps into full superhero mode here. Hedorah (the name comes from the word 'hedoro' meaning 'sludge'), a monster born in the waters from humanity's pollution, rapidly mutates into a jelly-like giant that comes ashore in Japan and starts wreaking havoc and turning humans into skeletons. Godzilla answers the call to save humanity. But Hedorah is a fearsome foe, armed with laser eyes, poison gas, and toxic spit-balls! Godzilla won't have an easy time, but maybe the scientists and the military can lend a hand with their electrode device. In between scenes of monsters battling, you can hang out with Japanese teens (wearing fish-heads) at a disco and watch the psychadelic acid pattern show on the wall. Or just listen to the amazing soundtrack....

SUPERIOR CHEESY Entertainment!

Exhibitions - CRAZY kinda cool


So as of yesterday I guess there are 3 exhibitions that I'll have work in so far this year:

-March 7th in San Francisco (4 - 5 pieces)

-March 15th in Atlanta (12 pieces)

-and Now April 6th in Seattle (3 pieces)

as well as a March / April feature in Secret Magazine

I'll be showing all new works at these which I'm pretty excited about. I do believe that in the past year (with the help of a cool friend) the work has grown and perhaps gone places that it had not been previously. It'll be interesting to see how it's received.

as well as a March / April feature in Secret Magazine

Man oh man when it rains...(uh insert cliche' here)

I'll prolly post more info soon =)

Monday, January 28, 2008

Terror from Beneath the Sea


where is that water now
that humbles and renders us
defenseless
those tunes we hummed
all those singular memories
did any of it even actually happen?
ever?
a vile disconnect
the days...like an incurable virus
forcing unspoken disdain
those stoned moments
the outer rim
how i seem to anti-matter
anymore
the photos are devastating still
though amazing in their creation
the odd destinations
drone
the aimless adventures
past
a savior in a cloak of my own words
100 pieces of pure repetition
the obviously calculated “check-ins”
from 50 fathoms and beyond
i’m now that hideous creature
kept on a leash
muzzled
and puzzled as to how this came to be
did you realize what you were saying?
as you said it
who you were holding
as you held-on
creating a cringing creature in withdrawal
just one of many links
i suppose
it’s been a long and cold climb down
ya know
and I’ve still not reached “me”
or that re-defined version
that I think i’m seeking
ambient or not.

Frankenstein Conquers The World


the assumed cohesion
an implied connection
randomly placed city-scapes
physical and emotional escapes
your bi-polar temperature
unchecked and dominant
the over-calculated points of departure
strange and jarring returns
like those amazing 80’s re-runs
“Fault” is not in your landscape
unless of course it’s someone else’s
It’s raining today
funny
cuz it seems too cold for rain
maybe it’s global wetting
maybe gravity is just fucked up
but I’m no scientist
********
we hear those beats again
********
in bubbles
in angles and ageless
in their not-so-popular forms
every lever you pull
burns
every lever you push
burns
every letter you omit
burns
every letter you don’t send
burns
as much as the last
your city destroyed...again
the sharpest sound of guilt
tossed around like a soaked seal
the bitter pain of blame
shoved forward...like...
like “a rat on fire”
or an insomniac somnambulist
brittle and battered
‘til full retreat
unlike all those others
this particular tale ends in varying shades
of gray.

Devil Girl From Mars


I will destroy everything
anything that carries your name
or face
anywhere you’ve slept without me
anyone you’ve fucked besides me
the peripheral slide
an opaque screen
airtight, un-lifted
there’s always too many miles between us
or maybe not enough
a mellow scalding with your voice
that can melt even me...everytime
and all your digital boys
I can feel numb like you
when the medication works right
like last night
unwound and shifted
we can make this all go away with 3 simple words
think about it.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

She Thing



I’ve never known you to lick and leave
to bite and be bitten
without provocation
I’ve never known you to care long enough
to actually see
what has always been here
there are galaxies and galaxies of heartless beings
headless things and substance fiends
where nothing mellow ever surfaces
like goose bumps on Novocain
you walk barefoot
on my floor
as if to rub it all in
it seems like I always have to choke
to be heard
and hurt
to be seen
or shown
how stupid I am
and how peripheral all this actually is
and by the way
if this universe is really so damn vast
then how is it that you found me?

Destroy All Planets



it all feels like some surrealistic cartoon
an endless animated loop
or that tiny thread of spit
that connects now with then
every door should open inwards
and every sting should determine our next move
the dissonance and the distance
a communication in exile
has my language become that foreign to you?
a chilling rash of electronic speak
the unfilled cavities
moments that defy definition
is there a number for this particular cloud?
the miles
and the miles
and the miles yet to come
flowing images of pure inspiration
predetermined touches in technicolor
permanent signatures
and abbreviations
attached
and timeless
I’m still that perfect illustration
that trusted illusion
that welcomed calm
for now and...
i’m still trying to process all of it
by the second, the minute, the hour, days and and
i know I’m weak & dwelling
i know I’m wrecked and failing
one toxin at a time
every chord
dissconnecting...one at a time
the subtle flashes of light
and the softest pillows
like that night
in the back seat
of that car
at big surr
wet yet weightless
thinking yet thoughtless
and the universal silence and warmth
a slowly drifting process
a fading conciseness and imagined farewells
the skeletons that never leave
will dissipate this time....
i hope
...this last time
i hope.

Saturday, January 26, 2008

The Scientist


Where were you in 1984?
what excuse could there be for falling for the same fucking trix
for the last eighteen years, two months, and two days
is it geography or laziness that forges these loops
that create and define you?
conquer then bleed you
strange that I should even care
or write
struggle or bite for the very same device
your science is an idiots hornie glare
where chaotic collisions perpetuate bad dreams
that seem to have no end
I'm a breath of stale air
floating through as a reminder
flaming towards the same reversal
perverse and stagnate
a bastard of invention
these beautiful things always scab...and return
become frustrated...then leave
and while "they" are your trash....."you" are ours...
and "we" are their's
and "they" are yours...
a failing formula for a growing breed
virtual threats and fantasies
coupled with a low IQ
can damage and destroy anything thinkable
or tangible
if it's warm...you'll fuck it, send it away, then fuck it again
sometimes.

She Thing


I’ve never known you to lick and leave
to bite and be bitten
without provocation
I’ve never known you to care long enough
to actually see
what has always been here
there are galaxies and galaxies of heartless beings
headless things and substance fiends
where nothing mellow ever surfaces
like goose bumps on Novocain
you walk barefoot
on my floor
as if to rub it all in
it seems like I always have to choke
to be heard
and hurt
to be seen
or shown
how stupid I am
and how peripheral all this actually is
and by the way
if this universe is really so damn vast
then how is it that you found me?