Sunday, August 30, 2009

thangs saving my lyfe right now

the one and only true master of words: by the end of this album, everyone is going to know who sage francis is
mmm the fog
another great lyricist, sole
homo's in general
valerie vargas and tattoos and i can't wait to get my sleeve
3 birds, 1 stone
dyke nerd
my favorite season
the mission
mc's need to know their limitations

tomorrow i'm gonna rock the mic right 

here come the hussies

love and bow ties
i honestly don't even know what to do at this point....recluse here i come

Saturday, August 29, 2009

LITQUAKE 2009!!!

Friday, August 28, 2009

yeah, moving to portland after college

dis be long

style inspiration of my fall wardrobe:
my favorite homo's
won't pick up trash, but i dig the pants and belt
basically me with added dick and not as cutesy face, heehee
to date, but not marry, maybe marry, maybe her name is mary
did somebody say fashionable housewife?
the big boi table
not her
goldmember and then some
we are the mods, get me a vespa and pronto

titanic: lesbian edition

my babe

can't wait to see ya at fox theater!

WHIT!!!! watch this! it's funny

Thursday, August 27, 2009

what i don't understand is, aren't we, or i should say, the government, supposed to be removing troops from the middle east? 

rest in peace, brian wolverton. 

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

mah horoscope:

No, you're not going insane -- you'll be back to normal soon. Your subconscious is going through a major growth spurt, and all these episodes, meltdowns and crying spells are a healthy part of emotional maturity.

welcome to the birth of your rising sign: it spells out, "you're not going to die".
um, skewl is awthsome

linguistics is one of the coolest things i've ever heard of! yum yum yum can't wait for that class! my teacher is hella smart...went to cornell, phd. at harvard, doctorate at cambridge, um hi intellectual stimulation...she even did a analytical essay on the use of the word "hella" and also another analytical essay on word usage in the lesbian community, so rad, so rad. 

bob dylan is going to be a stoner moment

*i feel fresh and free. sorry won't ever cut it because it doesn't bother me at all and nothing's really going to change that 
i wanna show you what the stars are made of, i wanna show you the stars

Sunday, August 23, 2009

all i want in life is happiness and a sweet hand tattoo
um, valerie vargas, just make it easy for both of us, marry me. 

and success! feelin freaky!

Saturday, August 22, 2009

if it's not something then it's not something

this one time in nazareth

you gathered clumps of dirt

in shaking fists

trying to roll away the rock

that symbolizes the most spiritual visits,

where followers find bone boxes

of supernatural hypothesis

and break down bible barriers with weaponry

and “we got better answers,

buy into this religion

and we swear your donations

will give you VIP passes to the rest of eternity”.


and this other time in bethlehem

you caught your breath

and wondered if

all the blood draining from your wrists

was a sign from god

as you signed the cross

in four swift movements

examining stigmata under microscopic lens

feeling hands intertwined with rosary,

trying to pray to the one’s that visit poetry

on a regular basis,

conducting an open thought process

instead of closeting this new existence.


and maybe you took first communion

chewing card board cut out jesus

and maybe that wine drowned your sins

and maybe you were just a little kid

so close to never being bad again

wearing white lace dress

being made to confess

to someone

that is not




some scars are of rationality,

some are of mundane verses

like when the priest says, no homo

and reaches for his pistol whip

and chains the second coming of christ to a crucifix

carved from flesh of bodies

that have been condemned

and will surely be put to death,

with their blood upon them.


church gossip said you woke up face first in mud

and wondered where god was

they said you woke up face first

in the sun’s alignment with orthodoxy

pretending every bullet was as passionate as you.

so now it’s time spent begging

father, could you please

tattoo my tongue with the same ink

that wrote the word of leviticus 20:13

going back centuries 

to remember that time

when jerusalem

was just a name

and not a reason to believe in



you bathe in pools of holy water

flowing with mixed up prayers and transgressions

looking reflections straight in the eye

as if you were the holy man,

as if you were the empty confessional

as if you were the tabernacle

that has all but burnt out. 

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

featuring at brainwash on monday august 31st


goals goals goals

fall semester is starting in a week, stoked. 
goals for fall:
-actually pay attention in class
-no ditching
-write a lot of unassigned poetry
-keep reading the news daily
-save up money to finish the top of my sleeve (outline and shading)
-paint the far wall in my room forest green
-submit to magazines
-no weed on school nights, hehe
-contact anticon about internships (if they even do that)
-continue engaging in my community
-self publish another chapbook 
-interior design
-going to the panhandle more
-unassigned reading
-exploring my neighborhood
-continuing contentment
-continuing happiness
-continuing learning
continuing looks like it's spelled wrong, it might possibly be or i'm just stoned...

Sunday, August 16, 2009

park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me

what would you do if you knew
how much i wanted you?
you'd say "hey, me too so lets get busy.
let's raise some hell in this little city."

the dreamboat's waiting on the docks at night
she's a little bit horny and she feels just right
hey, how about some of that lubrication?
'cause this motor's gettin ready for some fornication

hey, whatever happened to the sweet young chick
who fell for the babe with a strap on prick?
you see 'em ridin around town together
in a orange pick-up truck and wearin lotsa leather
you know, i don't look forward
to seeing you again soon,
you'll look like a photograph of yourself
taken from far far away
and i won't know what to do
and i won't know what to say

Friday, August 14, 2009

rejected.....and NEXT

Monday, August 10, 2009

vieve i lova you

Sunday, August 9, 2009

babe babe babe

i'm an enabler too, ya dig, but working on it. 


I want you to shackle me

not to your voice box

and not to your



and drop it,

but to the vision of your rhythm

where the rain hits your window

in beats of domestic violence,

I lower my senses

to “it never happened to me”

or to you.

But it stains the woman on 17th street

fumbling aimlessly

on a trail that leads to a bulls eye

looking a lot more like a clenched fist

than red and white circles

making bruised flowers grow on cheek bones,

planting seeds of emotional anxiety

and she




not that she needs my advice,

but I’d cradle her in basinet arms

til her throat gurgles of self fulfillment

and the split skin of those red lips becomes whole again.


And I can’t quit the ties you brought to me

And I want you to shackle me not to our inability to procreate naturally,

and I want you to shackle me not to your language,

breathing scratches down my vocal cords,

but bind me up into your prayers

of the religion

you might still believe in

as you blow smoke up to a full moon

and imagine the back bends of fallen virgins

pulling swollen sutures from your day dreams,

I just wanted you to realize

that there’s skin connecting you to me

through goose bumps and arthritis,

 ‘til death do us parting ways,

I’d hold a white flag to your sobriety,

I’d hold a white flag to being lost like your virginity.

All I wanted was for you to realize,

That all I wanted was a get away,

all I wanted was for you to realize

that while you were spurting verses

from tissue paper pages of fiction,

the woman of my madness

nestles quietly on city street,

humming hallelujah through yellow teeth,

but she’s still smiling

through beaten blindness

and cracked asphyxiation

I think in some other world,

She’s happier

And so much stronger than me.


I want you to shackle me

not to your bed post

but to your doorframe

where lost notches are etched into wood

hanging delicately like these tired heartstrings


and to be honest

I would have hung a mezuzah on the white frame,

but you seem to already know holiness by it’s first name

and I wonder if those notches are as deep as a broken rib cage

or if they fit the same measurements as abusive backhand rage

and it’s not ok


when she still wanders back to her slab of concrete

and lays stinging body to sleep

and dreams of sunlight

kissing the blackness of her eyes

into wings of blue iris’

pumping independence into her bloodstream

where no fist can pummel down reality

and truth be

she uses spilt blood

to tag the pavement

in words of cursive that might someday save us:











Monday, August 3, 2009

trample this

hi vieve

ew, missed connections can suck it

Sunday, August 2, 2009

on the brightside....
why are people

second time in one week where someone's sarcasm went a little too far from being "funny" to "wow you suck". 

i think anyone that is a piece of shit should stop acting like one