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


Wide-eyed and wonder free
that sting will disappear
eventually...or not
those distortions will evaporate
the self imposed animated cell
will collapse
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
and seal what should or could have been
all along.


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
and waiting.

Saturday, February 16, 2008


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
a certain sound assigned to every moment
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
and climbing.

Friday, February 15, 2008


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


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
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
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
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
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


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


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