Kienholz installation “The Illegal Operation”, 1962
 
He regarded his viewers 
by their garbage. 
He fabricated material life
holding up a mirror to still eyes
in denial at the horror of truth
captured
like a living photograph.
 
Burlap sack punched raw
laying like a burnt slab of molding meat
hoisted atop a shopping cart
that’s missing its cage.
Its wheels overused,
no longer able to move.
One can smell the rust and taste it
as though a child were in the seat
looped wires cradling
as it sucks on the handle
where mama’s hand had been.
 
Burlap sack sweat-stained
vomiting out its torn orifice,
split like cruel lips
of a motorcyclist
with a mouthful of cement.
Purging what poison that let grow
within, pulsating
now dead, half covered in a pail;
 
a forgotten guilty conscious,
a redemption for shame,
existing only in
mother’s waking nightmares,
her cold perspiration against
the cool moon's stare; a reminder
of the surgical bright light
that casted a pallid yellow glow
on seemingly sickly skin.

Collecting together, many years
later, little knotted plastic black bags
holding the little bones of the 
little ones, discarded
in the wasteland.
 
 

2-line poetry

(basis: little to no abstractions)

i am but a simple mechanism taken advantage of
invented by a dead corpse with a name

........

smoke-laced conversations under fading bulbs
whiskied souls floating down the river Lethe

.......

broken fragments of a wine glass glittering under wide eyes
a pair of cocks, beak to beak, vying for the cry to the rising sun

......

shit grins from within a toilet
chagrin to desire to dig it back up

.......

hair that stands on end and pricks when the skin crawls
under coverlets that should protect the mind's wit

dreamers

i sometimes see him, in my mind, clearer than other times i imagine him. on these clearer pictures, i see a great man. he is on a journey. a journey he wishes to accomplish alone. he feels a great desire for independence, freedom and the complete fulfillment of self. but at certain moments - certain, rare moments when he is completely alone - he doubts himself, and then still other moments...i know he imagines someone like me. and this is the clearest of moments - me knowing exactly who he is without ever meeting him while imagining him, and he, in the same respect imagining me - knowing i'm imagining him. and although we've never met, we've never shared a real moment, when we do meet, we'll know...something.

we're not exactly waiting for each other. we each have our own lives to live. we each give into idle pleasures now and again. we find fulfillment in not only what we do, but what we're capable of. the only thing that keeps us awake at night, and have us dreaming in the day is the fact that we're just a daydream, imagination, invention; a comfort away from reality. we don't even exist.

survival is thinking:
"i don't belong here"
and then wading around;

no matter who you bump into,
share that cold air between you

bump together for some warmth

then get on that separate lifesaver

you're from somewhere else

somewhere greater
somewhere less

doesn't fucking matter

"I want you, But I don't need you" - Amanda Palmer

I like you, and I'd like you to like me to like you
But I don't need you, don't need you to need me to like you
Because if you didn't like me, I would still like you, you see
la lala... la lala...

I lick you, and I'd like you to like me to lick you
But I don't need you, don't need you to like me to lick you
If your pleasure turned into pain, I would still lick for my personal gain
la lala... la lala...

I fuck you, and I'd like you to like me to fuck you
But I don't fucking need you, don't need you to need me to fuck you
If you need me to need you to fuck, that fucks everything up
la lala... la lala...

I want you, and I want you to want me to want you
But I don't need you, don't need you to need me to need you

That's just me, so take me or leave me
But please don't need me, don't need me to need you to need me
Because we're here a minute, the next we're dead
So love me or leave me but try not to need me
Enough said.

I want you, but I don't need you...

I love you, and I love how you love how I love you
But I don't need you, don't need you to need me to love you
If your love changed into hate, would my love had been a mistake?
I don't know. I don't know.

So I'm gunna leave you, I'd like you to leave me to leave you
But love, believe me; it isn't because I don't need you
(You know I don't need you)
All I wanted was to be wanted
But you're drowning me deep in your need to be needed
la lala... la lala

I want you, and I want you to want me to want you
But I don't need you, don't need you to need me to lead you

That's just me, so take me or leave me
But please don't need me, don't need me to need you to need me
Because we're here a minute, the next we're dead
So love me or leave me but try not to need me
Enough said.

I want you, but I don't need you...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3UYEZnhnVCg

untitled song

if you'll take me
as worthless as i am
an abused girl,
used and broken down
if you'll take me,
i'll take you too
i'll take you as you are-
i'll take your heart

i once inked a pond and wrote:

the pond ripples
with the desire to
run into the sea
tired of a stagnant movement
wind only hitting it
against the reeds
still
waiting
to rise up to the sky
even just
to fall again;
the only excitement in its existence