the kaiser

i hate this time of the day

2006-11-04T19:48:16Z

too many
generations
of skeletons
will be passed
through
generations
of closets.

for mark

2006-10-03T13:25:31Z

Some things are
natural. Some
are
forced.

Some things
smell
taste
sound plesent.

Some things
great make
tears and
goose-bumps.

Some things
got horns
thorns
pins
and pokes.

Color and
presentation.
Sensation
and possiblity.
Tenderness and
a starry fate.

Some things
go on forever
like
a sidewalk
or the
Grand Canyon.
They follow
and fall off.

Some things
pass
with the
clouds
or
come out
with a cough.

Some things creep
by your
bedside
and kiss
your dreams
wake you up
and stir
your stomach.

redredmercury @ 2006-03-07T21:44:00

2006-03-08T02:46:22Z

lament for the lost..

this might be a declaration

for old times sake

2006-01-26T04:38:52Z

going to bed early

2006-01-17T14:40:35Z

written nov. 12

11 or 13 years of
molested lust
and handicapped invisibility
standing in front of
the microphone.
"I love you from head to toe"
she reads.
they clap.

Sudanese innocence
begging me to
leave my dirty
smoking habit.
(a runner)
I say no,
and go home
to wash my hair.

I might have been
a muse
yesterday.
But today I am
the panties of
a woman
Bukowski took
to his couch.

I told the blinded faith
of a young boy
that I dont
believe in his Lord Savior
and that only God's name
will die in vain.

redredmercury @ 2006-01-05T02:06:00

2006-01-05T07:06:50Z

dude, i remember when like no one knew about hatebreed. i've liked them for so long and now just cuz they're on mtv everyone thinks they're sweet. well i've liked hatebreed forever.

quit harshing my mellow.

redredmercury @ 2005-12-07T23:37:00

2005-12-08T04:40:13Z

i like my stuff, too. (you know)

but i'm going to sell all of it (not for horse coke or diet pepsi) but so people can have it without having to steal it, god damn it. win-win

redredmercury @ 2005-12-07T00:49:00

2005-12-07T05:50:03Z

nudity unsettles me

redredmercury @ 2005-11-06T21:00:00

2005-11-07T02:02:51Z

chest cold - because sinus infection was so last season

when money can take you no further

2005-09-02T16:13:07Z

July 27, 2005

Late,
late into
the night.

Post-rain;
a heavy and
humid rain.

The drops have
stopped
falling.

The wind
blows the leaves
of green,
green trees.

The water
collected on top
looks,
under the street lamps,
like a dust cloud
being blown off
an untouched
bookshelf.

-details should be felt and not seen.
The End.

stanzas seperate different details. (cute, huh)

2005-08-14T15:46:48Z

who really wants
summer reads?
this is not the right time
or temperature
for reading.
autumn takes care of this.

so, i count
on my familiar stranger
to be
in the same
permanent restaurant,
smoking his smokers choice.
when all that is false is gone,
and i need routine.

my brother asks me,
maybe i'd like
to go bowling
with him?
i don't, of course.
but what would i do
if he
never asked?

i write a lot of poems
and throw most of them away.
they seem like too much nonsense.

the poem dies out with the vocal chords

2005-08-02T04:53:48Z

I remember thinking, famous quotes are over-appreciated
just like publicity; over-used.

This was yesterday.

Like he said, it was the text-book example of disenchanted youth.
and i didnt mind at all, with the peach color of my skin contrasting the 10:00 sky
when we were laying on the yellow lines of the parking lot, some in the truck bed.
playing guitars, someone kept singing about the present situation.

This is summer.

We're thinking about unhappiness, and about direction.
everyone imagines autumn of 1967 as if they were our memories
but we're all a little too young for that, aren't we?

Some of us go off to France to read our poetry where Hemingway did the same with his.
Some of us read our poetry to our girlfriends or boyfriends
and to ourselves, the most discontent of anyone.

p.s everybody : (moral of the story / side thought) keep trying, and tell me what kind of enlightenment your fucking gpa got you in 20 or 50 years.

33s; isn't that just so arrogant

2005-07-30T06:16:19Z

sometimes you stare at the same spot
for as long as it takes for moments to become minutes
and its the television
or its sitting on the corner of
Liberty and Main, starbucks
(offending clean lungs)
it's noticing human flaws and error
and full-sized oak trees with yellow street lamps behind them
brick buildings and
snow-covered beaches

tall, african man playing a blue acoustic
memory loss
stealing back giggles that were
boomeranged a year ago
and have made their revolution back around

why yes, i think we'll take those there.

redredmercury @ 2005-07-15T00:44:00

2005-07-15T04:58:15Z

eu·phe·mism
n.
The act or an example of substituting a mild, indirect, or vague term for one considered harsh, blunt, or offensive

i learn something new everday. thought i'd share

p.s. your house defies time. and any other principle of Newton, Darwin or Einstein. ( or, for that matter, anyone else whom the kids like to brag their knowledge about )

humiliation vs. banana daiquiris

2005-07-08T06:45:41Z

Some people become so fucking obsessed with visual stimulation that any other cents is weekend, essentially pulling the dissapiering trick. and thus we all get fucked.

cut out your eyeballs and see what happens.
(What is left in this world to be taboo?)

fuck the obscene (look for the double meanings; there are none)

2005-07-04T10:37:00Z

the imagination is for liars;
never state anything as fact;
life is hypocracy,
and how?

redredmercury @ 2005-06-30T04:06:00

2005-06-30T08:11:24Z

5 yrs of ksk.
good for me

redredmercury @ 2005-06-24T07:33:00

2005-06-24T11:37:54Z

when people see your frown, people dont want to stay around. when people see your smile, they want to stay awhile.

redredmercury @ 2004-09-21T21:16:00

2004-09-22T01:18:23Z

sniff crystal meth

2004-08-30T02:53:18Z

1. The differences between the following are benign, if not all together non-existant. Any that you think you can see are just your lack of imagination &/or poor vision.

2. If you don't burst out into giggles upon seeing these then you are hopeless. That, or you probably just don't know who either of these characters are.

i will be your ambulance if you will be my accident.

2004-08-03T04:33:35Z

for heaven's sake,

oh, I love Veronica, but sometimes I wish she was Ryan Hnatiuk.

2004-07-21T07:51:50Z

stomachs in
chests out
on your marks
get set

take this scene-sters.

our day in Clarkston.

oh, whether you're dressed in autumn or not, you are dashing.

2004-07-17T08:25:31Z

my brother + captain morgan shirt + sword

I stood in front of waves a long time and refreshed myself. Im not sure that Im different because of it, but I wish I was-- I always do. Im not too glad to be home. Im not too glad to be anywhere, Id like to be away. In a slummy apartment with Mark; playing the old, frazzled movie stars. But guess where I'm sleeping tonight.. my own bed! that is not really good or bad, just needed.

I miss my girl too. [Liz]

and because its cute:
[sorry liz. i had to do it.]

your battleship is sunk. I wish grandma could see us now.

2004-07-08T05:34:13Z

the ultimatum:
"Dance now or I'll shake my ass on you."

I now have my mother booty dancing at the side of my face. and enjoying it.

--

There is only one thing a writer can write about: what is infront of his senses at the moment of writing ... I am a recording instrument ... I do not pretend to impose 'story' 'plot' 'continuity' ... Insofaras I succeed in Direct recording of certain areas of psychic process I may have a limited function ... I am not an entertainer...

... Gentle Reader, The Word will leap on you with leopard man iron claws, it will cut off fingers and toes like an opportunist land crab, it will coil round your thighs like a bushmaster and inject a shot glass of rancid ectoplasm

--

tell it, William.
Mark reminds me so dang much of him.

the old eljay is taking a gander at my day today.

2004-07-03T05:56:47Z

She's a brute.

yes there is pictures. first: my day.

I had been with him since 8:30 this morning, but the day hadn't started until his arms were around me and I was weeping. That's when the feel of our time set in. It was 2:30, he was asleep. I lay awhile, his forearm draped over my waist. My body was on its side (as was his), the weight of his arm felt more impacting that way. It was a comfortable heaviness that embraced the curvature of my sideways body. I didn't feel vulnerable as I wept, I felt attached. I didn't mind that feeling, though; it was a relieving one. Every now and then his body would flinch, he was used to sleeping alone. I was too, but I wasn't sleeping then. How could I? And miss the opportunity to listen to him, unaware, breathing? I think not.

After some hours (which passed like minutes) I kissed his clothed shoulder and whispered that I'd be back. He hadn't heard me, it was my moving which startled him. He gave a half nod, kissed my lips lightly, just barely, before his eyes closed themselves again. They were heavy and pushed down like his arm had been on my waist.

I walked across the corridor to the bathroom and closed the door softly. In the big mirror, which spanned a good 2/3 of the wall, I looked at myself for quite the time. I looked pale and unshowered. I was pale and unshowered. I had a short grey shirt on, I like it usually. Today I thought it unfitting, rather distasteful. Anyway, none of this matters, I thought ( I knew). I left that ugly woman in the bathroom to keep her own self company.

I made a half of a sandwich, got some watermelon and a glass of ice water like the house was ours alone. It felt nice. I sat outside on the back porch and ate. Debating between Queer by Burroughs or a walk, I opted for Burroughs. Finished the book in its entirety. It was 9:00 then. He was sleeping still. The pleasure I took in that was sincere and relaxed.

I opened his bedroom door. It was hotter than the other rooms and faintly musty. I put the book back on his shelf. The fan that was blowing on him blew that same, damp, warm air onto his back. The sunlight in the pale room casted a certain light, changing the tint of everything just slightly. His back was to me, I sat behind him and kissed the part of his neck right below and a little behind his ear. The fan blew on the wetness left on his skin and his half-asleep body got goose bumps. At least his arm and neck did, from what I saw. What an endearing submission that was. His eyes almost opened, then shut again, opening right back up. I noticed his pupils focused and told him there was Chinese in the kitchen waiting for him. He liked that and gave me a couple of kisses. I liked that. All of his alluring demeanor was raw and hanging out of his skin. Hardly composed literally, but his inherent composure was present. He looked quite aged, how I see him, wise and experienced. The defenseless affection (which he didn't even know he carried) radiated out of his lonesome character. With no resentment or hostility, I envied his beauty and experience. I felt the stability, and was eased.