Violent Words for Beautiful People
ch. 4
*|INFERNO & THE MIST|*
there is something about the way I love you from a distance / the viscous resistance train tracks attack louder with ever step you take away from me / thickest from another’s mountain peaks out of focus pastel shades degrade massive cliff sides into whatever your subconscious provides / and on this soft morning (bird calls below you the sound of clouds scraping against and through one another above) that provision comes solemn as ape faces in the mist / drawn downwards towards the bottomed out trees like poachers exploding motion the slashing of forests beauty mark blemished empty spaces replaced them with cages old age passed by in solitude and lonely / a vantage point graceless even in the presence likened intelligence fortuitous / so tell me what is relative / the shrewdness of apes rejected the answers slingshot around the planet / the thick creases in their palms told them better choir songs were the ones written by deaf Africans in the after glow of the house fire / bare foot tired / a single dread lock perhaps one of them named it panic / if only the elders had any parables formed from derivatives of what we high rise grown see when the signal falls dead / when the equator experiences frost bites and snow storms we experience the static / it is only in the metro I find my partnership with you pragmatic / without the webs of spinal steel jungle and concrete encapsulate light dodged as to remind and not forget / our solitude is done for / clearly as the enigma's wet hard hand has practiced
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
V.W.f.B.P. ch. 5
Violent Words for Beautiful People
ch. 5
*|COPPER|*
I am conscious of the empty space forever above me still I find myself in the body chamber and am glad that in these days that means something different / that the single bulb that once resound simply echoed from the rooms of the basement / bounced from door to bar stool to gathered laundry in the corner to concrete wall to stair well to window pane and not at all back again / echoed from the flash of switches blown the breaker out into the black night / across the blue and cut a crescent in the atmosphere leaked out the light / girl we called that shit the moon 'til the day it found the ground
...
and I find that the serpents I let coil around me do a lot more than just change color with the bending of my mood from moment to moment / they slither through my nerves and tell me things from the inside / that most of the time seem to intense to begin to try and describe / and I am learning the difference between what I believe is wrong what is living in the shadows and the beauty of the unknown
ch. 5
*|COPPER|*
I am conscious of the empty space forever above me still I find myself in the body chamber and am glad that in these days that means something different / that the single bulb that once resound simply echoed from the rooms of the basement / bounced from door to bar stool to gathered laundry in the corner to concrete wall to stair well to window pane and not at all back again / echoed from the flash of switches blown the breaker out into the black night / across the blue and cut a crescent in the atmosphere leaked out the light / girl we called that shit the moon 'til the day it found the ground
...
and I find that the serpents I let coil around me do a lot more than just change color with the bending of my mood from moment to moment / they slither through my nerves and tell me things from the inside / that most of the time seem to intense to begin to try and describe / and I am learning the difference between what I believe is wrong what is living in the shadows and the beauty of the unknown
V.W.f.B.P. ch. 6
Violent Words for Beautiful People
ch. 6
*|I DID IT FOR YOU|*
as every page folds and tears / as every steam rose from paper coffee cups / mugs overturn / stains set in / the rain continues and the corners of brick buildings swivel in step with your streaming through the streets / every turn of my head / I open my mouth to call out to you a second too late nights still frame shot melancholic slates of my crescent moon hope for you / just one more time / just for four more minutes you said / but sugarbass I'm going to be late if I don't leave
please stay / we can make love all day long
I grasp your right hip shove my face into the crook of your neck breathe you in and spoon you as deep as I can
just for four more minutes
just
four
more minutes
ch. 6
*|I DID IT FOR YOU|*
as every page folds and tears / as every steam rose from paper coffee cups / mugs overturn / stains set in / the rain continues and the corners of brick buildings swivel in step with your streaming through the streets / every turn of my head / I open my mouth to call out to you a second too late nights still frame shot melancholic slates of my crescent moon hope for you / just one more time / just for four more minutes you said / but sugarbass I'm going to be late if I don't leave
please stay / we can make love all day long
I grasp your right hip shove my face into the crook of your neck breathe you in and spoon you as deep as I can
just for four more minutes
just
four
more minutes
V.W.f.B.P. ch. 7
Violent Words for Beautiful People
ch. 7
*|GALLOW OMEN|*
only the spiral
never the circle
I used to be the circle / the vinyl turning perfectly / I swear I would play that track like murder premeditated even when on other thoughts it never really goes away / it makes me listen ‘til the finish then rewinds itself to where it began only to linger on spinning on point / on yet another moment and on and on and on like linear time has been stolen / I mean on and on and on again endlessly / it would carry on in my head even as I left my bed with the first words and light of day I said / it was there in the background even as I thumbed my way through the papers searching for myrollies / ya know I burn 'em daily / took my place on the morning bus along side early rising yoga students those still lucid from the night before thetweakers and the bookies / their tucked away numbers spelt out the lyrics like closed captioning along the bottom of my sunglasses / there are some secrets that red ink and leather can never hide / I keep the candles in my eyes few and dim my vessel free of sin I glow spectacularly softly / breath as maiden as the voyage I guess I should have learned to swim something besides the doggy / my backstrokeshotty / my singing voice rapid as the breaking notes of knowing there are some songs that just never crest the waves / enough to touch the land before being pulled back out with the sand and the joint roaches sand bag this part of the coast enough to fish tie the cooler waters / ya know it is the spirits of our ancestors that guide land to wet toe side this is where I am meant to be / the revelry of the tide mixing with the fiery hues pages scorched to ash across the warmer waters / surely I have never seen a drop fresh as the whale slaughter since the last night I laid naked on the beach and cried in time with every tug of the moons gravity / my lone light nodding gently forever a perfect silence / flawless blether that lent my pulsing hearts mortality the mechanical simplicity of appreciating whatever sounds bled their way out of the speakers / or out away from the needle scratch yes the subtle noises hold my focus for my ears are feminine as the lace of audio / waiting in the wings if only to caress the echo off the curtains / sustained by a gender akin to skin spent spoken steady tone enough in length to resurrect passion's own vibrato
I am here for the quantum physics bred of sound
I am here for the soul’s geometry
I used to be the circle until the plain on which the third dimension found me
now I know I am the spiral how I know the coil how rhythms depth is fractaling
ch. 7
*|GALLOW OMEN|*
only the spiral
never the circle
I used to be the circle / the vinyl turning perfectly / I swear I would play that track like murder premeditated even when on other thoughts it never really goes away / it makes me listen ‘til the finish then rewinds itself to where it began only to linger on spinning on point / on yet another moment and on and on and on like linear time has been stolen / I mean on and on and on again endlessly / it would carry on in my head even as I left my bed with the first words and light of day I said / it was there in the background even as I thumbed my way through the papers searching for myrollies / ya know I burn 'em daily / took my place on the morning bus along side early rising yoga students those still lucid from the night before thetweakers and the bookies / their tucked away numbers spelt out the lyrics like closed captioning along the bottom of my sunglasses / there are some secrets that red ink and leather can never hide / I keep the candles in my eyes few and dim my vessel free of sin I glow spectacularly softly / breath as maiden as the voyage I guess I should have learned to swim something besides the doggy / my backstrokeshotty / my singing voice rapid as the breaking notes of knowing there are some songs that just never crest the waves / enough to touch the land before being pulled back out with the sand and the joint roaches sand bag this part of the coast enough to fish tie the cooler waters / ya know it is the spirits of our ancestors that guide land to wet toe side this is where I am meant to be / the revelry of the tide mixing with the fiery hues pages scorched to ash across the warmer waters / surely I have never seen a drop fresh as the whale slaughter since the last night I laid naked on the beach and cried in time with every tug of the moons gravity / my lone light nodding gently forever a perfect silence / flawless blether that lent my pulsing hearts mortality the mechanical simplicity of appreciating whatever sounds bled their way out of the speakers / or out away from the needle scratch yes the subtle noises hold my focus for my ears are feminine as the lace of audio / waiting in the wings if only to caress the echo off the curtains / sustained by a gender akin to skin spent spoken steady tone enough in length to resurrect passion's own vibrato
I am here for the quantum physics bred of sound
I am here for the soul’s geometry
I used to be the circle until the plain on which the third dimension found me
now I know I am the spiral how I know the coil how rhythms depth is fractaling
V.W.f.B.P. ch. 8
Violent Words for Beautiful People
ch. 8
*|BLESSED BE|*
I was the vertices bent by my own conception of surrealism / I blamed the fixation of canvas ablaze on your fascination with Dali / the ladder's corners rounded out to the note of pin pricks tapered a nothing hole in the center / on one end / a viscous syringe / while on the other the rest of the body protruded endlessly from the molars splayed wisdom ways / separate the jaw from hate / the deformation from love we called this serpent's mouth / in lone moments warmed by the crux I had stolen / I found entire worlds sung into being by the conviction we held so dear / so dear / so near to death we came for the realities of the myths we wrote / but that single pricks my jugular / regurgitate myvernacular's rotted one note / just shut your pretty mouth 'cause this is the first time I have ever had to iterate / not that if I hadn't you wouldn't understand my empty hands / but at this point in time a banquet of sounds I can only offer / mirror a difference in line with the silence was so beautiful it was just more than I could bare / and so I iterate / and this is fine / these are mykaleidascoping eyes in the rain of color / these are my crying eyes in the black star's sun / shone heaviest on days devoid of ultra violet / I had only the capacity of believing somewhere between sepia and gray scale and a zodiac personified I would ensnare and gift if only you were the kind of girl who wouldn't weep at the constellation's caging / but you are not / so many things and nothing I can see / light pollution past the atmosphere some say there was one day not a single one of us did not forgot / wishes what I want for in partners bred our documents manifests check marks leave a residue of positivity / what we scrapped from the bottom's bowl trail out far into the merkaba hour / glass refines the sands shimmy out in crisp tones we find a secession no longer wanting / it is the leaving / it is in the filling sloping under currents where the quantity pulls a second glance gloam for foretense glamour stance grades our actions with many airy makeshift symbols / just so many god damn numbers / and I cannot continue them all / so I finish strong with whispers we spoke in unison "fuck it all for we recall the minuscule shapes the dust rearranged our slop and the acrylics glaze our lips under testament unlike any rescue we've collapsed / the base lines clean themselves / now that the art clings to the clouds much differently then before / we let it sleep standing up and leave the wakeful the cushion of the floor / there is purpose here so hesitate not a second longer and dose the drug / bottoms up / what you are to me is an intention deficit deflection / dissect roles defect the fuzz and in on us I'll touch a case of the resonance molds / a screaming acoustic clarity clambered about face / break the banks and when we're caught I will stick you chest wise akimbo er go a lot like the opposite of wounds closing up / and think nothing of it for I know in the same and single instant you will have roughed a gaping hole in the southern pole of my gut... fuck..." my shaking tresses still not bodacious enough / I will take my last dying breath four hundred thousand times and square my ruptured lung adnaseum as that it collapses and rises again not never standing still as a Cretaceous turtle's housing mouth residence / bay windows that are just the bone and ship wreck frame / nothing in between / still condensation accumulates across the glossy eyes / hand prints that will reappear tomorrow upon the turtles resurfacing will tide us closer together then I ever thought was safe / my grace will conceal the retracting stilts I wore to walk an even plane from the top of the ocean to the edge of the shore / your aquatic acquisition and rough carpentry teach me to carve in honesty / my response will always give me away / in just the right light I believe everything you do / just the same way that you did / faith like negative space / the vase and the face / principles taken as rat poison and lace and other over the counter narcotics all the children take / two by fours jammed together with substantial pressure create entire relics without lifting a chisel or nail / no metal involved / only wood / forty one age rings ripple to the swaying of the structure / we move in time with the construction / meditating on the pendulum cursive action of ourselves and it's relevance to that contrary to our child hood belief / we find that development of the land to be a sincerely beautiful progress / manifesting our potential in a tangible form / our intention certain / I was here / architects heard the rolling echo of thunder storms / they dreamt of coffins and woke to a new understanding of the documentation of sound / sine waves read in hooked shapes grasping the side of landscapes from wall to door way / building men dreamt of where the church met the graveyard and woke to cave openings they saw between their fingers / architects closed one eye and breathed through that cuticle space / these were the first mausoleums to house our atmospheres / our conquests of fears / our whole truths laid to rest against our half lies / an atlantis pyramid of sarcophagi laid out the back side as mountains of souls make their way home / maws longing for the surface and sands fine tide / the windful current skews the lens through which we under stifled laughter peering wince eyed jeer in hope that our reflection can possibly penetrate all the way to the ocean floor / taking every layer masked together along with ourselves recognize transparency as a learning tool / we can take this assault from the waves as a beckoning call that we are the same / that we may all ways see the beauty of the universe in the mosaics we unawaringly create / for in the dankest depths of darkness we cannot see where we end or where we begin so we are as endless as we allow ourselves to be / spoke softly in repartee apart from repetition's reputation as a crooning eye / stoned spent enough for that what's ripped the start I wasn't sure what I could be / a bird flown flat lined along the water / trigger sleeves doused thinner with the soaking / your sweater of feathers clung heavily to your glowing frame enough so that you resembled the convex splash of the oceans surface / the sharp edge of glass / the last glimpse of opium from the chamber / the first breath slight as cloud's birth / the masticated clash typhoon driven and pounded two dimensional when your clothing contains a lake full flushed / replenish thank yous for cradling the divots and that you know what's given / dissipating as your teenage profile / in my time I know that mine was thinner / thank you for allowing yourself to be the vanquishing victim plenty a gold full farthing's worth of your supple station's vulnerability / procedures of the new times are the old times accounts / stacked as smoke stack jackets armor of yesteryear / determent and sedentary are my pursing lips bloom to the tune of bombs shattering our sound and over coats / our silence is such a conductor / lightening tuned in to our frequency alone / across every night sky rumors beyond space and time are the electric echo that abounds avoiding ego and that same familiar smother / Nikola is so jealous he reincarnates and suicides over and over for eternity in the hopes he will one day be born our only son or at least a cousin or brother
ch. 8
*|BLESSED BE|*
I was the vertices bent by my own conception of surrealism / I blamed the fixation of canvas ablaze on your fascination with Dali / the ladder's corners rounded out to the note of pin pricks tapered a nothing hole in the center / on one end / a viscous syringe / while on the other the rest of the body protruded endlessly from the molars splayed wisdom ways / separate the jaw from hate / the deformation from love we called this serpent's mouth / in lone moments warmed by the crux I had stolen / I found entire worlds sung into being by the conviction we held so dear / so dear / so near to death we came for the realities of the myths we wrote / but that single pricks my jugular / regurgitate myvernacular's rotted one note / just shut your pretty mouth 'cause this is the first time I have ever had to iterate / not that if I hadn't you wouldn't understand my empty hands / but at this point in time a banquet of sounds I can only offer / mirror a difference in line with the silence was so beautiful it was just more than I could bare / and so I iterate / and this is fine / these are mykaleidascoping eyes in the rain of color / these are my crying eyes in the black star's sun / shone heaviest on days devoid of ultra violet / I had only the capacity of believing somewhere between sepia and gray scale and a zodiac personified I would ensnare and gift if only you were the kind of girl who wouldn't weep at the constellation's caging / but you are not / so many things and nothing I can see / light pollution past the atmosphere some say there was one day not a single one of us did not forgot / wishes what I want for in partners bred our documents manifests check marks leave a residue of positivity / what we scrapped from the bottom's bowl trail out far into the merkaba hour / glass refines the sands shimmy out in crisp tones we find a secession no longer wanting / it is the leaving / it is in the filling sloping under currents where the quantity pulls a second glance gloam for foretense glamour stance grades our actions with many airy makeshift symbols / just so many god damn numbers / and I cannot continue them all / so I finish strong with whispers we spoke in unison "fuck it all for we recall the minuscule shapes the dust rearranged our slop and the acrylics glaze our lips under testament unlike any rescue we've collapsed / the base lines clean themselves / now that the art clings to the clouds much differently then before / we let it sleep standing up and leave the wakeful the cushion of the floor / there is purpose here so hesitate not a second longer and dose the drug / bottoms up / what you are to me is an intention deficit deflection / dissect roles defect the fuzz and in on us I'll touch a case of the resonance molds / a screaming acoustic clarity clambered about face / break the banks and when we're caught I will stick you chest wise akimbo er go a lot like the opposite of wounds closing up / and think nothing of it for I know in the same and single instant you will have roughed a gaping hole in the southern pole of my gut... fuck..." my shaking tresses still not bodacious enough / I will take my last dying breath four hundred thousand times and square my ruptured lung adnaseum as that it collapses and rises again not never standing still as a Cretaceous turtle's housing mouth residence / bay windows that are just the bone and ship wreck frame / nothing in between / still condensation accumulates across the glossy eyes / hand prints that will reappear tomorrow upon the turtles resurfacing will tide us closer together then I ever thought was safe / my grace will conceal the retracting stilts I wore to walk an even plane from the top of the ocean to the edge of the shore / your aquatic acquisition and rough carpentry teach me to carve in honesty / my response will always give me away / in just the right light I believe everything you do / just the same way that you did / faith like negative space / the vase and the face / principles taken as rat poison and lace and other over the counter narcotics all the children take / two by fours jammed together with substantial pressure create entire relics without lifting a chisel or nail / no metal involved / only wood / forty one age rings ripple to the swaying of the structure / we move in time with the construction / meditating on the pendulum cursive action of ourselves and it's relevance to that contrary to our child hood belief / we find that development of the land to be a sincerely beautiful progress / manifesting our potential in a tangible form / our intention certain / I was here / architects heard the rolling echo of thunder storms / they dreamt of coffins and woke to a new understanding of the documentation of sound / sine waves read in hooked shapes grasping the side of landscapes from wall to door way / building men dreamt of where the church met the graveyard and woke to cave openings they saw between their fingers / architects closed one eye and breathed through that cuticle space / these were the first mausoleums to house our atmospheres / our conquests of fears / our whole truths laid to rest against our half lies / an atlantis pyramid of sarcophagi laid out the back side as mountains of souls make their way home / maws longing for the surface and sands fine tide / the windful current skews the lens through which we under stifled laughter peering wince eyed jeer in hope that our reflection can possibly penetrate all the way to the ocean floor / taking every layer masked together along with ourselves recognize transparency as a learning tool / we can take this assault from the waves as a beckoning call that we are the same / that we may all ways see the beauty of the universe in the mosaics we unawaringly create / for in the dankest depths of darkness we cannot see where we end or where we begin so we are as endless as we allow ourselves to be / spoke softly in repartee apart from repetition's reputation as a crooning eye / stoned spent enough for that what's ripped the start I wasn't sure what I could be / a bird flown flat lined along the water / trigger sleeves doused thinner with the soaking / your sweater of feathers clung heavily to your glowing frame enough so that you resembled the convex splash of the oceans surface / the sharp edge of glass / the last glimpse of opium from the chamber / the first breath slight as cloud's birth / the masticated clash typhoon driven and pounded two dimensional when your clothing contains a lake full flushed / replenish thank yous for cradling the divots and that you know what's given / dissipating as your teenage profile / in my time I know that mine was thinner / thank you for allowing yourself to be the vanquishing victim plenty a gold full farthing's worth of your supple station's vulnerability / procedures of the new times are the old times accounts / stacked as smoke stack jackets armor of yesteryear / determent and sedentary are my pursing lips bloom to the tune of bombs shattering our sound and over coats / our silence is such a conductor / lightening tuned in to our frequency alone / across every night sky rumors beyond space and time are the electric echo that abounds avoiding ego and that same familiar smother / Nikola is so jealous he reincarnates and suicides over and over for eternity in the hopes he will one day be born our only son or at least a cousin or brother
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