Insomniac in the Morning

Posted on by meltingneurons

 img_1543-1 

Another night is gone,

The goddamn birds are chirping,

And while I think I was productive,

I’m sure it wasn’t worth it.

My eyeballs ache from skullbound flashes,

Each tendon in my body is moaning,

The sun and sky are so bright with light,

That “back inside” seems to be an order instead of what’s right,

I hang back at the door, or sheet, or flap,

Screwing up my mind and face to think about,

Why despite the price,

I race the setting rays into the West,

A challenge that bears no chance to win and promises self inflicted malice.

Yet….

It feels so nice to taste the liquor of the stars,

While moonlight drips down as whimsy scented honey,

Transforming us all into the Cosmos serving bar.

Thick blue hued amber smoked into an untouchable glow,

Spirit boosting tinsel to top our nightly gifted box.

Conjures whims and true lunacy,

Sets the true Faithful afloat,

In a boat atop the inbound light.

So freeing,

So, so, slow.

He was a cat, and lived in a pink room.

Posted on by meltingneurons

 

Living like a cat last summer,

Couldn’t afford sheets or real food,

But the room was a soft pink,

And the lumpy mattress felt softer than the bricks.

 

Living like a cat I was,

Crawling under piles of clothes to nap,

Eating cans of tuna (pocket sized),

Basking in the sun so the shade felt cooler.

 

Cat life is great for those critters,

But at 6’+ and a bundle of seething “more,”

It’s feline for some but didn’t sit right on me,

So I’ll gladly hand it back this time around.

 

Feeling a bit more canine today.

 

Though cans of tuna still roll free,

I have a forever human to lick,

Hopefully I’ll get older than a pup –

— goddamn pet control still wants to lock me up.

IMG_0224
The Pink Room in its Reflective Glory

Elegantly Disturbed Haikus – #1

Posted on by meltingneurons

wearing an embryo,
would prefer a large flopping sombrero,
small skin means tight fit.

bedazzled rodents fly,
as shockingly agile bullets,
spreading feet like wings.

plastic horror show,
melts to a puddle of goop,
Barbie versus torch.

 

Green Hair Angel

Posted on by meltingneurons

Spoken word is coming shortly…if you haven’t seen it, I’d really love to hear some of your own work…take a look at the Studio34 for the listing if you don’t see it a post or two down. Cheers!

 img_0515

She told me in a voice that wants for something more,

“I’m stuck with you and you with me,

But I don’t want to be stuck,

I just want to be happy.”
Simple words of wisdom,

Drop out the only mouth from which I tend to listed.

All around life is in tatters again,

It’s a battle of just going and going,

Churning up the ground as I try for traction.
People ask if I even know what I want,

It would be easier to drop my head in the sand,

No one wants to be confronted by the fact,

That survival doesn’t constitute a plan.
No goals

Just obligations.

Another sick hollow spot,

Self-indulgent in wasted life,

A never ending emotionless vacation.
The idea of walking a road with no end in sight,

Sounded so peaceful when I was younger.

I can’t be old enough to be this tired,

Those thoughts drag my feet,

Mired in mud six feet deep.
When you’re bound to the pipes,

The needles, the bottles, the pinners, the caps, the strips, the tabs and the doses,

The misery never knowing, always moving,

Chaotic insecurity, discomfort and the fear –

It’s easy to lose yourself in the haze,

No rag can clean vision so glazed.
Occasionally you need a multi-colored head of hair to show you that there is still more to be had.

That whatever tomorrow brings,

It’s worth holding steadfast to belief in something better.

Even if you have to lean on each other to get there.
She told me in a voice that wants for something more,

“I’m stuck with you and you with me,

But I don’t want to be stuck,

I just want to be happy.”

Amp up until your pupils drool…

Posted on by meltingneurons

Long night, long day.

Screeching whistles from the bat winged harpies playing in the sun.

I swear I put a dog collar over the tree stump last week,

Wonder what happened to the dog?

I should probably go out and check,

But now it’s impossible to tell through all their beaks.

Should have embellished the points of each ear,

Small silver trellises of moonlight into nursery rhymed eyes.

C’est la vie,

I’ve got a lockjawed dedication that demands fevered lacerations,

And if they leave a few eggs on the ground for breakfast this evening –

-so much the better.

Recovery Flow – 1st Spoken Word

Posted on by meltingneurons

Depths – Spoken Word, Addict Recovery Flow

(1st attempt at spoken word….written version below. Please stick past the 1:00 mark as it hits a much better rhythm and pulls together everything)

Go deep.

Depth.

Because you and I have depth.

No shallow pieces of paper whipping in the wind here.

We’re fucking mountains with roots buried in lava.

Dig deep.

Through chunks of earth.

Through underground lakes.

You and I are living statues giving statements.

Cut through miles of meat.

Let out rivers of blood.

Depth.

No 2D, weak minded, single sided bullshit here.

Find the spinning core of pressurized EVERYTHING that powers our furnace.

I’m not powered by the drive for one thing.

I’m an addict.

I’m a fucking hero.

I’m a lunatic.

I’m a fanatic.

I’m an extremist.

I’m a fatalist.

I’m a romantic.

I’m passion given wings and no name.

I run on need.

I’ve been asked what makes me tick.

Why do I do it again?

Why am I so fucking sick?

Because I live on fear,

On love, on hope, on greed, on determination, on demands, on need, on want, on confusion, on chaos, on misery, on joy, on pleasure, on excess, on more.

I live on intensity.

I breathe it.

The world spits straight fire down my throat so hot that all I can beg for is a drink to put it out,

And a shot to start the burn again.

Go deep.

Find depth.

I’m not bored.

I’m scared that the moment it stops, I’ll be less interesting to myself.

That the world won’t have a reason for me to be around.

I’ll be normal.

And I don’t understand that word.

This is the only norm I know.

The unusual.

The strange.

If I didn’t have this excuse, what would I be?

What would I call myself?

What excuse could I hide behind?

How could I explain the things I’ve done?

How would I explain my failures?

What if I didn’t fail?

What if it didn’t have to be so intense it hurt?

Even if it feels so good.

Love wouldn’t have to be so intense that it overwhelmed.

Passion so hot that nothing would ever live up to it again.

Confusion so baffling I couldn’t see a road out.

Joy so large that no laughter would fill it.

Chaos so overwhelming that the world would fall to pieces.

Pleasure so satisfying that nothing would ever be enough to replace it.

Past the screaming need for everything in spades.

For each emotion to be etched into me until I’m raw.

Way, way the fuck down there.

Beneath the lowest layers of urgency.

There is peace.

There is a quiet place that I can call part of me.

Part of the landscape of my soul.

Proof that I wasn’t always an adventurer.

Once, I was calm waters welcome moonlight to bathe across me.

I was a home where the word gentle wasn’t a foreign concept.

Where there was no race for adrenaline.

And that was okay.

All I have to do is take a breath and let myself submerge far enough to find it.

Go into the dark.

Into the deep.

Into the depths.

Mania

Posted on by meltingneurons

There’s an intensity that leaves nothing but a vacuum behind it,

A bullet hole wasted emptiness drags into a crater shocked from hit after hit.

Temporal fracture points and blanketed waste lines,

Maddening shallowness where no sparks can be refined.

They’re just words put to words put to words,

Shredding thoughts until there’s no meaning left and the musicians are missing the chords.

Scream, whistle, shriek, whisper, mutter, babble,

Consume, read, absorb, listen, digest, dibble and dabble.

The air crackles with the clutter of a thousand ideas,

My brain is burning from a million needs demanding release.

Every nerve is a blasted land of agonizing pleasure I grovel and ask to relive,

I’m in love with the rage, the energy, the uncontrollable beauty of power it gives.

All the information is useless in the end.

What point when there isn’t a person to converse with I’d call friend.

You fucking people drive me crazy.

I make myself manic to the point I can’t move, comatose and lazy.

When thought is so painfully fiery that no more can be endured,

I lay back and pray that the end will crack the chains to which I’m moored.

Let my mind wander to the lights above and send my soul spinning,

Beyond the grasp of this inane insanity,

To something meaningful that wil­l make my heart beat for something more.

To Procyon and…..

Posted on by meltingneurons

Hypothetical antithesis lulls the horrid monsters of time to pieces,

For lo, though we design the bitter steps of steel with grave intent to last,

The winds of history beget naught but mystery, shall spread their remains across the past.

So run your numbers now sweet child, and create the fabric clocks,

The ticking and the tocking mark a ship slowly rocking as it lands at destiny while docking,

For an apex it  has achieved, a rising top it hits before the next embarking.

Across the wicked ocean of reality, into storms of worms that bend the mind,

The crafty little wave runner has hit warped road that leaves their direction blind.

But now crew member drops their head in sorrow – this was their destination,

For all roads, and waves, and currents, and flows, lead to where they may have experienced fabrication.

That central depot – the manufacturing shop located just north of Betelgeuse and a few parsecs from Procyon – the final destination.

Note: Semi-stream of consciousness edited for grammar so it’s a bit more coherent. Meaning? I’m skeptical…but read out loud it has an interesting rhythm.