leakpen-blog

[leakpen-blog]

Space

Take the time to make me orbital And see me shine like a satellite Subtle and undeniable Just give me that shove To end the aimless drift and Make my existence viable I am the the uncaused cause I am the unchased fugitive The undeserved consequence Take my unwanted confession And your disregard And justified deny my repentance

[leakpen-blog]

1/2/2017

Suspended between several Centers of gravity I Write shit poetry and Drink shit whiskey and Try to embrace the Stasis but it slips Away - refusing my Outstretched arms though Somehow it will not let me go. Longing for change but never Breaking the pattern Technically I am free but I still sit in my cell the Door wide open Exhibiting symptoms Of Stockholm Syndrome I sit still and sell my Self short of The sort of Privilege others would Die to give their children.

[leakpen-blog]

Liberate

I am blindfold I am back brace I am straight jacket Remove me I am your seatbelt in a drowning car Cut me loose and breath again

[leakpen-blog]

Cheers

Sitting at a bar At the end of pier 11 Sipping my whiskey And watching my customers sit at anchor. Does the Sinatra carry across the water To their international ears? Does the M/V Oriente Hope Waiting to load grain in Kalama Raise its glass As I raise mine? As they drink the awful Black Velvet They bought last time Do they curse me for selling them such Awful shit? Or do they cheers to my Inferno Lounge Well whiskey neat? And why do I care about Sixteen Crewmen I will Never meet and couldn't understand If I did? Cheers, you poor bastards.

[leakpen-blog]

Perspective

I sit alone at the karaoke bar and don't sing. This is just okay. I will be late to work tomorrow. This is less okay. I no longer have to worry about getting someone pregnant. The world is a beautiful place.

[leakpen-blog]

Absolution Less

You are the absolutely terrifying realization of my potential.

You are the absolute destruction of the earth and the subsequent revelation of its purpose.

You are the penitent blistering headache after an amazing night I will never remember.

You are the most talked about person I talk about which isn’t saying much because you are all I talk about.

You are the ache in my sobriety.

You are my Never Ending Story but these hands they couldn’t hold on.

You are the reason I do everything without you.

[leakpen-blog]

Uncle Eddie

Standing in the rain is one of the most dramatic things the average person can do. So stand in the rain. It's okay to be dramatic.

[leakpen-blog]

Growth

Drift like smoke through my lips and dissipate You do that, you know Reside for a while in my hair, my clothes You speak to people near me of my lack of will power The pocket lint that comes up with loose change You are the coalescence of tiny fabric fragments Worn loose over time by my movement, by our friction You are cotton and denim minutiae, always returning The blinds are open, sunlight streaming in You make coffee in your underwear, worrying about everything The laminate floor is room temperature You track the debris of your life across it A tree cut down fifteen feet from its base grows new branches You look fake or magical The xylem and phloem continue to operate though the center is hollow You are surviving, good for you

[leakpen-blog]

Paolo Javier III

Mummy wrap me again every time you dress the body wound you lose some substance some form

The shape Of my face becoming flat I cannot complain it is as these things go as far as anyone I know can tell

Cater day cut and go salad a complete dadaist thought that some one once understood or at least said as much I do not know who to not trust and so invest in everyone

There is emotion and there is logic and there is something entirely removed from all of that that rises like a river through a city built below sea level

[leakpen-blog]

Twelve

As I enter the August of my life I attempt to pause, unsure of how I wish to proceed. But the month moves on, carrying my days away with it.

With Autumn on the horizon, The younger ones packing bags of books to learn things I have already forgotten or will never know, the first September rain finds the spaces in my carcinogenetically enhanced wrinkles. And wasn’t I going to quit smoking ten years ago?

A dozen years ago, The beginning of working, smoking, longing for the Manic Pixie Dreamgirl to make it mean something. To find something to gain in the in the constant state of loss.

This is far from finished and neither am I. Step off the bus, login and slip away with the season.

[leakpen-blog]

Buzz

I feel the throbbing of life in the world Like a drum Like a metronome Like a symphony of summer crickets Like the buzz of my phone at 6 am Indicating incoming emails Again and again and again saying Get up Get up and get your skinny ass in the shower and don't think about what's in those emails or how long the day will be or your checking account balance or the lack thereof or the people you should call but won't or the drinks you shouldn't have but will or if you'll be hungover when you finally stand up Just get up and get in the shower And again And again And again

[leakpen-blog]

Red Wine Between the Keys

Red wine is sloshed onto the keyboard, and a tissue appears, as if sent by the divine, or as if someone had hardly used it before tossing it into the little garbage bin next to the computer. You gingerly mop up the wine between the keys and write a test sentence "zxcvasdfg vbghnretyjh" and throw in "pl,.//239855" just to be sure and inclusive. Having rescued the tool of your trade you begin to type again, but you think about the stickiness of the keys. They aren't sticky, but you feel that they should be and if they should be sticky then they should be wiped with a damp cloth until classified as "Shouldn't be and aren't sticky". You quickly get a cloth, cause it to be damp, and apply it to the keys that should be sticky. You made the cloth too damp and some water drips between the keys. G and H drown.

Your characters will be deprived of so much now, as will their stories, as they struggle to reach the ends of your plots. They will never again laugh, or have thoughts, or be frightened, or lift weights, or see light, or spell doughnut properly, or fight, or cry "Argh!" as you have just done. They will often misspell and will have to say things the long way around such as "on a day of cristmas between seven and nine, my true love presented to me: between seven and nine maids a milkin'," and as the full weight of what has happened hits you, all the things you will never be able to type, you curse red wine and things that should be sticky and damp cloths and slip a little more into madness, and you mildly hope that no one notices.

[leakpen-blog]

Costner

There's something to be said for just surviving.

Take it as it comes

If we can be adulting we can be aliving.

Give it as it goes.

Likewise let it go.

To find that balance between

Caring and not and investing

Entering and pulling out.

I've lived enough to know

It's not sustainable

The aliving

That's the reconciliation we face

As a generation we recognize

The intrinsic lack of purpose

And equally acknowledge the insignificance of meaninglessness

It's a quick fix always

A doughnut to replace what was never really there

We live in a waterworld

Dry land is a myth

[leakpen-blog]

Deeply Now. With Feeling.

The emotions that your brain ignores hit your chest with two-by-fours.

The embrace of pressures in your sternum push you backwards.

And you search for the candy colored button that is labeled "Release"

The thoughts that make your fingers curl were born into another world.

The tension that your sinews hold stir the kind of heat that longs for cold.

You wrote yourself a whiskey prescription when you forgot the word Peace.

The quiet thoughts that your heart declines paint your face with warning signs.

What an oddly joyful riot that breaks out when you deny it.

Something is wrong from the corner of your once innocent eyes.

And nothing is beyond believing, you find this so relieving.

You often say to yourself "You are mine" and it so often helps.

There's nothing quite like the drug called Lies.

[leakpen-blog]

Karen

This demon disease

That never tires

Breaks many in your place.

Though battle burns

Within your body,

It is never on your face.

It has never marred

Your smile. It has never

Stolen your grace.

People rarely think about

How dark it is

Beneath the skin.

It makes it so much

Harder to fight

An enemy from within.

But your light

Is so much brighter

That is why you are going to win.

[leakpen-blog]

Tomorrow Never Lies

Even if

Everyday

Were hard,

And every

Tomorrow

Promised to be harder and never lied,

I would still

Love you.

[leakpen-blog]

Recede

Take all the time between then and now

Think about the things I carried

My slender frame bending against the weight

My muscles failing from lack of lactic acid

Only my will and shame holding me up

The same shame I carry

A smile plastered against my face like graffiti

I am a sun-bleached and forgotten billboard that used to read

I am trying to love you 

Yehoshua November is disappointed in my lack of initiative

Susan Miller holds back against saying I told you so

Mark Doty says I never knew you - you never tried

These references wash up and recede on my shores

Low tide has yet to arrive

I am all but driftwood now.