Bleep goes my mind

Bleep goes my mind.
Join in this ever-loving feast of the future.
Trickled down through time and creeping through
the old wooden floor boards of decrepit nature.
Tragically disconnected to travel not withstanding time.
Journey on into the jumbled mist of apprehension and psychedelic lullabies.
Falling uncontrollably as time shoves from behind.

Original loops spinning and starting over.
Will this day ever end? Mindless comings and goings.
Faceless beings with loud shoes echo through my mind.
Stalking hallways and littering virgin pathways.
Susceptible to harassment and pain.
Will the madness ever end?
Bleep goes my mind.

Ode to a seductive leg

Are you Listening?

Catatonic and distant concrete

heart laying heavily upon gritty sand

chocolate insurrection assuming anarchy

supplementing the proper amount of guilt

Fervor intent to readjust dusty thoughts

lambs wool concoctions cleaning layer upon layer

making dents in the gritty and undeniable

flavored with indecency and adequately covered

I lay distant in your open arms

closely listening to empty off beat notes

playing through your warm foreboding chest

Are you listening?

Take a Sip

I can think of a million things to say

ranging from clever to slightly inane

you probably don’t deserve it

but I’m going to say it anyway

I just want to hurt you

I never imagined ever feeling this way

tied down to whatever you say

enslaved engraved depraved

traded and behaved

drip drip dripping with the nectar of youth

sip sip sipping with the the solidarity of truths

trick trick trickle the

honey will drip

from your lips

take a sip

Don’t burn me let me keep my dignity

Don’t hurt me let me keep my sanity

tracking the time lacking in decline

I can think of a million things to say

ranging from clever to slightly inane

you probably don’t deserve it

but I’m going to say it anyway

I just want to hurt you

Short Story: A Little Junkie on the Corner of 5th

A Little Junky on the Corner of 5th

Tragedy is not a complete failure of ones life; it’s simply a side-step from reality. It’s difficult to judge when this alternate reality began, or whether I’ll be able to step into a more idealistic thread of reality, but what I do know is, for now, I need to get what I need to function through the day.

Jarring as it may seem, I awake every day with a quiver of insecurity sensationalized by the lack of adrenaline forcing its way through my body like surging water trying to creep up over a bouldered blockade. Trapped inside my box, my home, until I can creep out into the toiled world and get my fix. Obsolete, is my perspective of everything if it doesn’t include me. I’m slightly egocentric and it tickles me to say I am, especially to the honky down the street who believes I’m nothing worth being egocentric about. Most look at me and think “what a waste,” this is not my own interpretation of the look, but it’s the look coupled with the actual statement “what a waste,” which helps me understand their feelings toward me.

I wasn’t always this way. I know what your thinking, “sure they all say that to justify,” but honestly I feel I’m beyond justifications. I am what I do and who I am is of no concern to you. Seriously, I use to have a big corner office, Betty got my double espresso with low-fat lactaid free milk and filed my bountiful accounts and scheduled my many dubious appointments. Betty was great, buoyant and optimistic, exactly the way I prefer. She never had a care in the world unless it involved my world; she was dedicated to me. If there is anything I miss about my previous existence, it would be her.

I managed other people’s lives. I helped get them together when they were feeling in pieces. I gracefully maneuvered through their personal issues like an avid swimmer. It was poetic at times, yet I felt distant, disconnected. It was this disconnect which became the stem of the maraschino cherry and led me to desiring more than the stem, but rather the whole artificially flavored cherry. I didn’t need the entire hot fudge sundae underneath, I only needed the cherry on top. The fastest way to the cherry, I discovered, does not have to be achieved through years of discipline, but rather a simple jaunt down to the North End of town will do the trick.

My first time was angelic like bursting rainbows in your mouth. There was a sensation of a pot of gold with every consumption. Not only did I feel connected, but I felt everything. It was like all my senses were having a party and I was the stripper, in the middle of it all. Without the brain being able to sensor in a functional way and with my inhibitions on the low, I felt everything. Color was brighter, noises were louder, everything tasted sensational, it felt like I was partaking of everything for the first time. What a thrill! A roller coaster of exceptional feelings and desires which I’d only experienced perhaps once before, but forgotten how amazing until the day I met Tim.

Tim was great. He had shaggy brown hair worn in the longish style you see on skateboard punks. It was difficult to differentiate between whether his hair was wet or whether he attempted to grease it on purpose. His pants rested just on each butt cheek and his boxer shorts replaced where a belt should have been. His cologne was so pungent it walked in the room presenting itself first before Tim actually got there and it lingered for several minutes after he left. Smells is the one thing I find heightened when I’m in this state of mind. Everything smells stronger and colors seem to become more vibrant and full of brilliant energy.

It used to be I would visit Tim on a bi-weekly basis, but after my office environment became more, well intense, my bi-weekly visits turned into weekly. I’m not really sure how I ended up the way I am now, but I feel it began when my department manager retired and the company brought in a new, highly motivated, and eager employee to manage us. Things seemed to be going well, at least I thought so at any rate, but one day this new manager came into my office and listed a load of complaints he had against me by my clients. I didn’t understand what he was saying, I didn’t feel as though I was deserving of any of the complaints listed against me. I felt like everything was going smoothly and without any hangups. I argued with him, reassuring him that his reports must be an office prank being played on me and that my clients loved me.

After this incident, my weekly visits to Tim turned into daily visits. Within a few days after this initial meeting with my boss, he came in and told me due to my overall performance and what seemed to be a lack of respect I was fired. Well I was seriously upset and couldn’t understand what was happening, why was he being so unfair, nothing was wrong, everything was fine, I felt good. I left my office feeling like I had just been treated most unfairly. I took this attitude with me and wore it as a part of my agenda in finding another job. I would apply, shoot up, send resume, wait for days, shoot up, go to interview, and get zero interest, go home, shoot up. I was in the rinse and spin mode and I wasn’t able to get another job. The inevitable happened, which forced a dominoes effect into my life; I ran out of money, my landlord evicted me and I had no where to go. This led me on my search for Tim. My buddy Tim, who never lets me down and always knows how to fix me up. I’m convinced I only needed to find Tim and everything would feel better. Tim didn’t want me to find him, he made it plain stackingly clear he was not interested in me and my issues, especially if I was out of monies. It was a trivial thing, I tried to understand why Tim didn’t want to help me out, after all I was and still am his best customer. I would find money and pay him back, I just need some incentive, motivation to get me going again; I needed to get high. Everything would be great again and I would begin looking for a job tomorrow. Today, I only needed to get high.

I wandered around for hours. Shaking and talking to myself about all the unfairness in the world. How everything that was unjust and unfair had found its way onto my lap like a sleeping cat cuddled in for a nap. I sat and stroked the imaginary cat which personified unjust behaviors and unfairness. I could hear it purring and I could feel it settling in for a permanent nap. Its claws began to knead my chest and a maternal instinct overpowered me and I felt comfortable. Then the claws dug deeper and deeper and began to pierce my skin and the pain became shockingly uncomfortable. “Bad kitty” I yelled, “stop that, stop clawing me,” I continued to yell, but it wasn’t listening to me. The pain surged through my body and I began to feel cold and isolated. I realize openly for the first time in months, I am alone. I can’t understand. I crawl up in a box, I go to sleep. The world is floating around me, spinning, I can see the spinning. It’s so cold. I just don’t understand why the whole world is against me.

Jarring as it may seem, I awake every day with a quiver of insecurity sensationalized by the lack of adrenaline forcing its way through my body like surging water trying to creep up over a bouldered blockade. Trapped inside my box, my home, until I can creep out into the toiled world and get my fix.

Language: The Bastard Child

Illegitimate. The written word has evolved into a bastard child. It’s difficult to believe how eloquent our forefathers took careful attention to be. Today, instead of articulating in complete sentences and with appropriate grammar, society settles for mediocracy. Instead of being ecstatically blissful, one is LOL, or being profoundly in awe over events, one is OMG, and if you’re really orgasmically beaming then you’re obviously ROFL. Words are power. They can create nations and bring down enemies. Words can evoke wondrous emotions which have resided in abyss within the eternal fabric of our souls. Words have meaning. Do you feel “lol” do you feel “omg” do these spring you into action and make you want to go out into the world and be alive.

Why does society accept mediocracy? When did the human race settle? Is complacency going to be the downfall of humanity?

Mediocrity in restraunts. Mediocrity in literature. Mediocrity in Hollywood. Mediocrity in Government. Mediocrity in music.

Adulterated language is a crime.

Wrapped around the frigid shoulders of time lies a benevolent smile. Encouraging, heartening, welcoming, and refreshingly receiving with extended fingers is the hope. It’s the hope which argues in behalf of the human race. It’s the hope which encourages long engaged conversations with authenticity.

Let’s stop with the unabridged version and cliff notes. Humans should be engaged with life. Life is art, is love, is engaged with us. Allow the “slender threads” to weave into our souls and pass through us, giving way to a new understanding which is reaching out to all under the great cosmos.

It begins with language and conversation. Syntax is not the tax one pays in for erroneous behavior. It’s the structure or foundation which holds together the very fabric of the written word and the quality is dangerously weak. Be careful. Tread with abosolute caution.

A Short Story (the beginning)

Albino Rhino

What is this? What does this mean?

Do you hear yourself asking these questions? I certainly did at first, but now, I just understand.

Albino Rhino, not only a rare and perfectly normal beast, but also the name of the band I sing in. If you like music inspired from the very depths of your taint and scorched unholy out of the mouths of babes, mixed with some nice flavored greens, submerged in vinegar, and hung out to dry in the impeding winds, then you will love us.

I set up a link to one of our songs… Holy War, which you may now listen to.

Holy War by Albino Rhino

This came about quite by happenstance, Marc was jamming out like a boy with turrets, Anthony was following, and Chris whipped out a crumpled up piece of paper from his pocket and said, I think we have a new song and here are some words I wrote.

My first thoughts: how do I squeeze all those words in, hell I’ve done it before? As I’m now the master of squeezing elephantine sized things into miniscule places, I accepted the challenge.

Much of what we do is a collaboration on the part of all of us. What makes our music unique is, we are all inspired by different genres of music and bring that inspiration into the birth of Albino Rhino.

If you had to be trampled, wouldn’t you want to be trampled by a mysterious magical endangered species?

Just say YES!

We’re here to trample our listeners and knock them out with our incredible edible music…

~serve and enjoy

Addiction

There are many things in this world that peak my interest, even to the point of addiction. I never saw the point in smoking, it actually disgusts me. The smoke, the smell, and the taste as it slithers in your mouth, over your tongue and down your throat. Burning, smoky, and screaming for more. I cough, gag, and loose my ability to speak. Smoking is not my addiction.

Driving fast exhilarates me. My senses are riding on the edge of my seat. Prepared for the inevitable, but never really expecting it. Soaring fast down the dark, smooth, virgin pavement while flames are sparking out from the bottom. I can see a whirl of life fly by, trees, but not as individuals, they make a long blurred horizontal line. Driving fast is not my addiction.

Chocolate singes my internal desires. Creamy desires melt slowly in my hot mouth and then trickles quickly down the back of my long throat. Crackle goes the package as I slowly, yet impatiently, unwrap the shiny paper. My mouth is so eager, my brain and hands can’t satisfy what my mouth wants fast enough. Finally, destination is accomplished, all is satisfied, repeat motions, do it again and again, until, oh… empty. Chocolate is not my addiction.

I love sex in the morning; orgasms in the AM. I love moonless nights when everything is so dark and all you can do is rely on your on self to succeed. I love coffee… oh just the thought makes my heart leap for joy. The taste, the aroma, the feeling of being alive and awake and ready to embrace whatever the day will throw at me. It’s my 5 minutes of true pleasure, all mine, I don’t have to share, only I get to enjoy it. I don’t have to explain why I love coffee. It’s universally acknowledged that coffee has become the largest addiction for most humans and most just get why without explanation. Coffee is not my addiction!

Music, the need to create. This is an inherent desire wrapped and intricately woven around the very essence of who I am. Creating music for me is to breathing for most. I would be lost, wandering helplessly around this world without it. You may find me incoherent, rambling nonsense, homeless, lying in your bed at night disoriented. You might phone authorities, you might just shoot, I might die… Music, the ability to create, is my addiction.

Beginning of a Story…

She sat sipping coffee and taking notes in the hustle and bustle of mall life. As she watched people rushing by she noticed they began to blurr together. Instead of humans she saw name brands, cell phones, fancy shoes that went clickity clack on the pale colored floor and plastic bags of all sizes bouncing on these faceless beings. She refocused her vision, she was on a mission, she must concentrate. She continued to jot down her observances while she drank her coffee. The motions became a rhythm, scribble scribble sip sip watch watch scribble scribble sip sip watch watch and so on until she herself began to feel swooped up into the blurr as if in the vortex of a tornado.