SuiGeneris Thoughts

"Rivers and Roads" by The Head and The Heart

2013-06-27T13:50:00.001-04:00

A year from now we'll all be gone
All our friends will move away
And they're goin' to better places
But our friends will be gone away
Nothin' is as it has been
And I miss your face like hell
And I guess it's just as well
But I miss your face like hell
[Chanting]
Been talkin' 'bout the way things change
And my family lives in a different state
If you don't know what to make of this
Then we will not relate
So if you don't know what to make of this
Then we will not relate
[Chanting]
Rivers and roads
Rivers and roads
Rivers 'til I reach you

"Spaces"- A Poem

2013-04-22T22:01:00.001-04:00

(source)

for some reason i always thought

an artist couldn't breathe without

loneliness

but you appeared and

it's not much but it's a lot

to take in

like small sharp

breaths of fresh mountain air

and late night fluorescent

lightbulbs

and spaces between people

that are now closed

the sun has a feeling now (instead of a

glow)

you've mended everything

that i never thought needed to be

sewn back together

"Futons & Ladders"- A Poem

2013-04-22T21:54:00.000-04:00

(source)

the downstairs smells like burnt toast and

black, runny

eggs

which means the day is already over

might as well leave my brain on the back porch

to sunbathe

and go for a walk halfway across the country

maybe I'll have lunch in a bar and

instead of drinking i'll chew the shattered beer bottles

just so I can hear them inside me

making extensive amounts of noise without any repercussions

then for the afternoon, i'll make a stranger teach me how to sew

patches unto my shorts, in a grungy way like in those sad movies

and i'll wear a humongous thimble the size of my body

only to protect me from being pricked by the outside world

when it gets dark i'll build a ladder large enough

to extend above the earth and while everyone is asleep

i'll eat a small bowl of raspberries and whipped cream

with a side of all the wishes made by young children while they

doze off in their cloud-like, fairytale dreams

and the stars will form a nice glowing futon that will

cover my skin with a blanket of light

as i sing myself to sleep

"Tender"- A Poem

2013-04-22T21:46:00.000-04:00

(source)

and while my mother is bickering once again

about the clothes, the fabric, the anything she can find

I think about how everything is bigger and better

no one is ever less

making me feel like those ants I step on

that I must now be forced to call my friends

the little worlds they pinch in and out of

in silence from the outside

in triumph from the inside

I see the togetherness the world is lacking

I sit down on the ninety degree sidewalk

with my knees scraping the gritty surface

causing them to bleed

that day my blood was my tears

and my mother still bickered in the background

about the people, the morals, the society that's turned to dust

"I Used To Be Good At Analogies"- A Poem

2013-02-02T23:18:00.001-05:00

(source)

you took my heart and didn't even know it

like when

i guess i can't find an analogy

because you are one

why is all i want to ask, why?

because we both know

because

only we do

and unsaid words ought to be the most

painful things

worse than drowning, worst is over

now it's just waiting

and dying of hope

that's the worst way to die, i think,

of (hope)

"Debate"- A Poem

2013-02-02T22:56:00.000-05:00

(source)

When my eyes are fluttering

and I can hear the highways through my window

that's when I say the things I believe most

the things that make me scared of my own being

my own soul

but I don't think you should be afraid of me

i won't harm you

that much is not exactly said for myself, though

and I try to make it work, make

sense

but nothing ever does.

nothing ever does sit nicely

like worn history books on a shelf

things get thrown

ruined, soiled

by other things

and these other things

are what keep me up when the moon is

telling me secrets

and answers to my questions

I now realize that

I'm playing a game of tug of war with my

soul and

mind

god knows who will win.

Letter to His First Wife, Edie

2012-09-28T23:03:00.000-04:00

(source)

“I have lots of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet, concerning the message that was transmitted to me under a pine tree in North Carolina on a cold winter moonlit night. It said that Nothing Ever Happened, so don't worry. It's all like a dream. Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don't know it because of our thinking-minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever. Close your eyes, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, stop breathing for 3 seconds, listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, which was taught in immense milky way soft cloud innumerable worlds long ago and not even at all. It is all one vast awakened thing. I call it the golden eternity. It is perfect. We were never really born, we will never really die. It has nothing to do with the imaginary idea of a personal self, other selves, many selves everywhere: Self is only an idea, a mortal idea. That which passes into everything is one thing. It's a dream already ended. There's nothing to be afraid of and nothing to be glad about. I know this from staring at mountains months on end. They never show any expression, they are like empty space. Do you think the emptiness of space will ever crumble away? Mountains will crumble, but the emptiness of space, which is the one universal essence of mind, the vast awakenerhood, empty and awake, will never crumble away because it was never born."

-Jack Kerouac

Molten

2012-09-23T16:23:00.000-04:00

(source)

The air is thickly filled with molten breeze

My fingers try to grasp it,

pull it through my hands like molasses

Manipulate it

Like I did your heart

It rises above me, and for a reason unknown,

I'm not bothered by it

I don't know whether that gives you joy or pain.

"Massacre"- A Poem

2012-08-11T21:13:00.000-04:00

(source)

And I don’t want to hear them talk about it

Anymore

They ruined Daisy

They took her pastel yellow dress and pearls

Flung them across the room and interrogated her

In the corner of her own house on a

Wednesday afternoon

Her blonde hair astray, wisps framing her golden eyes

A look of confusion on her face, crossed with tears

Settled in the crevices of her eyelids

Now they’re moving on to Gatsby

Tearing his tie to shreds

And destroying his gilded pocket watch

By smashing it with their hands, their voices

Which sound like the ear-piercing squeals of hundreds of

Strange houseguests outside on the freshly cut lawn

They lock him in his closet with his now soiled trousers

They’ve drenched with wine,

Not even the expensive kind

I sit in my chair quietly and I want to defend them,

Take their hands and help them up from the

Massacre that is these teenager’s assumptions

But the teacher, she’s already seen my face,

And realizes the damage is done.

Musings

2012-08-10T14:25:00.000-04:00

(source)

maybe i'll just keep it all to myself

and fill journals for the rest of my life

I remember when he said, he looked over and I was

furiously writing, he said

"I couldn't understand"

I said

"You could've too.

Anyone could've."

…..

"sorry, sorry, sorry"

"don't apologize so often, why do you do that?"

"because don't you see? there's just so much to be sorry for."

"Buddhists"- A Poem

2012-07-24T15:59:00.000-04:00

(source)

My stomach twists

Like a bendy straw in the

Grasp of a little child

It churns when I think of how

Awful

I must be

Maybe if I went to someone

Spoke my thoughts out loud

Maybe if I went for a seven day walk

Like a Buddhist would

Maybe if I became Buddhist

It would be easier

Because Buddhists can't kill things

It's against their faith

The thing is

I don't have any.

Moments

2012-07-17T19:08:00.001-04:00

(source)

“Those moments before a poem comes, when the heightened awareness comes over you, and you realize a poem is buried there somewhere, you prepare yourself. I run around, you know, kind of skipping around the house, marvelous elation. It’s as though I could fly.”

-Anne Sexton

"Helplessness Blues" by Fleet Foxes

2012-07-10T16:12:00.000-04:00

I was raised up believing I was somehow unique

Like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see

And now after some thinking, I'd say I'd rather be

A functioning cog in some great machinery serving something beyond me

But I don't, I don't know what that will be

I'll get back to you someday soon you will see

What's my name, what's my station, oh, just tell me what I should do

I don't need to be kind to the armies of night that would do such injustice to you

Or bow down and be grateful and say "sure, take all that you see"

To the men who move only in dimly-lit halls and determine my future for me

And I don't, I don't know who to believe

I'll get back to you someday soon you will see

If I know only one thing, it's that everything that I see

Of the world outside is so inconceivable often I barely can speak

Yeah I'm tongue-tied and dizzy and I can't keep it to myself

What good is it to sing helplessness blues, why should I wait for anyone else?

And I know, I know you will keep me on the shelf

I'll come back to you someday soon myself

If I had an orchard, I'd work till I'm raw

If I had an orchard, I'd work till I'm sore

And you would wait tables and soon run the store

Gold hair in the sunlight, my light in the dawn

If I had an orchard, I'd work till I'm sore

Someday I'll be like the man on the screen

Photo Journals

2012-07-10T15:17:00.002-04:00

(all photos came from here)

"Cat Lady Suicides"- A Poem

2012-07-04T20:07:00.000-04:00

(source)

some study somewhere

claimed, ("said only" according to

my communications teacher)

Cat Lady Suicides

how tragic- how

light

a rise in death in being alone

with windows

and lots of sleeping fur

but the need for your own blood

because of society

how cat-

astrophic

i had always liked them

with their outdated moth clothes

and cracked smiles and

flyaway foggy-monday colored hair

they had always seemed

content

but these "studies"

would argue with statistics spitting

and facts flying

i never liked them.

"Punnett Squares"- A Poem

2012-07-04T20:02:00.000-04:00

(source)

It was a dull day in February

She told us how she had a student

During blood tests

(back when they were allowed)

But Mrs. Doe, why doesn't it match?

And she told us how she looked at her and said

Maybe check your work,

you may be incorrect.

Avoid, avoid

She said the girl went home

Said

Mom, why does it not match?

Said

Dad, it doesn't make any sense.

They said the unbelieved truth

And while she said this

The class was quiet

We all were imagining

The girl walking home,

Her mind darting, breath quickening

Wondering why

They never had any photo albums.

And how lying is such an easy skill

They should teach it in trade school.

"Lifedance" by Charles Bukowski

2012-07-01T17:36:00.000-04:00

(source)

the area dividing the brain and the soul
is affected in many ways by
experience –
some lose all mind and become soul:
insane.
some lose all soul and become mind:
intellectual.
some lose both and become:
accepted.

"Aberrant"- A Poem

2012-07-01T00:30:00.000-04:00

(source)

I try to explain

the words won't form

my mouth asks for help

like the air is dense with itself

so full of itself

and if it were winter

things might be different

things might be better

but the clock just kept ticking

ticking

and i just kept thinking, considering

about how people need

so much

people need each other

to cling to

and for some aberrant

reason

I can't end things anymore

they just go on and on,

then they start up again

like those roller-coasters

you see at the amusement park

that I never ride.

"Pulse"- A Poem

2012-06-22T22:20:00.001-04:00

(source)

I feel my pulse in my hand

. . . .

I wish it was yours

Your fingers in the space between my fingers

I want it more than breathing, living

I want it for the future of my vision of humanity

My stupid belief that everything can be okay

And will be okay

Even though we all know things change, everyday

Slowly the air forms between us, our bodies

Becoming separate beings

Separate souls

For I always knew my soul couldn't combine with someone else's

My soul has holes, ripped like an old t-shirt

With rose paint and morning eyes

Vines like ivy, reaching

Clinging to spirits unknown and unheard of

My soul has rain puddles filled with tears

Of lost fantasies and expectations

On the sidewalk in front of an old furniture warehouse in the city

With "for lease" signs stuck on the dirty glass

It's spewing cities and late night phone calls and street lights and

Acoustic guitar sessions played in old bars that

Stranger visit to escape from other strangers

It has people and faces and names

Of doctors, lawyers, bankers

Of unhappy people and their black shoes

Walking onto buses at three in the afternoon

My soul has melodies, cigarette smoke

and a small trinket box housed up in a little girl's room

It's full of everything and nothing

the universe and space

and black holes

even though I've always been afraid that's how we'll all die someday

although I'm hoping the sun will explode

for I'd rather die in light than in

dark.

Sewn

2012-06-22T21:44:00.000-04:00

(source)

Why am I so ashamed of this

While I sit here and realize it's

What keeps me sewn together?

"Right Side Up"- A Poem

2012-06-22T20:41:00.000-04:00

(source)

There's this lightness and it comes in waves

Like the world is right side up

Even the southern hemisphere

Those little village people

Bringing water from the river on their heads

Little do they know,

To get back home

It's upside down

And for some reason

My world is right-side up

For the first time

In ever

"Love of an Orchestra" by Noah and The Whale

2012-06-21T14:23:00.000-04:00

If you gotta run, run from hope

I know I'll never be lonely
I've got songs in my blood
I'm carrying all the love of an orchestra
gimme the love of an orchestra [x3]

So now in my deepest sorrow
there's no need for despair
I'm carrying all the love of an orchestra
gimme the love of an orchestra [x3]

If you gotta run, run from hope

"Ten Years"- A Poem

2012-06-17T23:41:00.000-04:00

(source)

My whole world

has been disrupted

and things just aren't working

the gears aren't

turning the right way

anymore

and to think i haven't looked at the

stars

it feels like ten years have passed

and my bones are brittle with

my greatest fears

Million Miles an Hour

2012-05-27T14:28:00.000-04:00

(source)

“There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in the room. It's like watching Paris from an express caboose heading in the opposite direction--every second the city gets smaller and smaller, only you feel it's really you getting smaller and smaller and lonelier and lonelier, rushing away from all those lights and excitement at about a million miles an hour.”

-Sylvia Plath

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

2012-05-21T18:16:00.000-04:00