Slash Master Super Thrasher!?

ok
im afraid of death
and it scares me that i cant feel you
i wanted you to be my father
there was alot more i wanted to say
you didnt want to go
you screamed no after they said you'd be a vegetable
i wanted to save you
you were my father
i dont think i could hurt as much if i lost my own blood
this still isnt real
you
are
to young
our family is falling apart
we're all dying
going crazy or fighting
i want to be a kid again
i want to go back and tell you i believed it to
it was stupid to be honest
i wanted to be older than i was
i know you wanted to fight

...i cant even write about it
im not ready. im sorry.

Some real cowboy
comes walking through the lonely doorways
of day dream denim
he fell asleep inside
his porcelain stained walls

He dances with the whiskey goddess
they fall
she laughs and doesn't stop
Some dream
he looks over at her soul
curled up and dying
on the dirty wood dance floor
"I love You"
he says
she just stares on and laughs harder
He tips his hat
and walks away
with that invisible pony between his legs
"...I know"
she says to herself

this cowboy
is lost
in the straight lines between the tiles

his boots always match his feelings

last night
i found her bag but not her name

I looked for her ID but
all I found is my pink monkey head
with change for brains

She has the emotional consistency of alphabet soup

I can never spell her name
or find the right words
to tell her how I feel about her
but searching is tasty anyway

we walk 3 miles every morning
for cigarettes and fruit
and I read her 72 Brautigan poems
there and back without looking up

shes a self proclaimed preternatural painter
with a grudge against pallets and
the mean reds

her eyes have no real color,
she eats leafs from poisonous trees
mailed to her from Mexico,
to keep them that way

the sun rises on all sides of our
house
and sets all at once
she gets high every evening to the crescendo

we own 7 cats
all named after her
collectively their name tags spell out "alphabet"
minus the "L"
as well as the phone number on each one if you were to
dial letters for numbers

whether its soup
names
or Love
I can never find the damn "L"

"Unsure where to look next
Im just witnessing in general,
"All these lovers with monotone frowns
like they know
what they're doing looks important."

"What a drag."

"So I figure I listen best when Im not watching
and only let myself look and love them
when they're center stage."
"All I can say is it just happened...
I gave up on the passionate speech,
The story that could make or break me.
It really was an exciting story..."

She told me she's in love with everyone
that's how she justifies falling in lust all over the city
"Talent isnt lost yet.
There's still lock pickers
and string pickers
and perfect stilleto walkers,"
all tugging on her heart strings
In every direction at once
its the only way she can stay standing up straight

She let herself fall one way once
for a doctor
and when he touched her...
-non-professionally-
she knew he could fix her
work out the strains on her heart
he told her it wasn't good for her
to expose herself like that
it could drive anyone mad
it could break any man's heart
So he stayed
and spoke like an expert,
like professionals should
long enough for her to get used to it
Some professional
she knew he was too poetic
and he left
on to fix the next broken soul
she decided then
she would stick with her old
tried and true
home remedies

I keep trying to read
"The Unpublished poems"
published by his wife after he died
I feel dirty
like Im reading someone's diary
I dont know if I would like someone
publishing my own foot notes for me
after I died
I would have done it myself if I wanted anyone
to know
What happened to the sacred?
words are the best secrets I keep
I think I'll stay alive as long as I can
When I die my words are coming with me
I loved the man
but for fucks sake lady
let him rest

Stepping over plaid main street huggers,
and old memory keepers,
the last two nights
shouldn’t be so damned surprising
“uptown” isn’t uptown if our dreams are all dead
give me downtown beer can creeps and junkies
over false illusions
any day
I wont ever look away
I will give what I can and complain about the system that
“keeps me free” as much as I damn well want to

This boy says:
“Who’s gonna out weird who?”
I would or could or do say,
“who gives a fuck? You fascinate me.”
Lets climb trees, eat leaves, share stories,
give me your mind for a day or two
of no sleep rehashing…
And I will label you poetry
I will put it on any color pedestal you’d like
Lets talk some REAL fucking float on philosophy



www.davidchoe.com

so i've been having this dream for a while, the dream gets longer and more elaborate with time, im guessing because theres more thoughts and ideas and life i've lived to put into my sleep life, anyways im writing it down because this is the first time this dream has made enough sense that i could attempt to write it down. So here it is so far:

9 hours of days went by
The moneys gone and so is she
Were running out of ideas
its all been done and copyrighted
i walked across the ocean again for the
first time in months
to the ship made entirely of oak floors,
white ropes, and gold tent sheet sails.
the ocean was still dark blue from
a painting i imprinted
i thoughtlessly kick leafs as i walk
i never remember whos with me but someone pulled
me aboard
i stepped and the ship started cracking
i raced to the front titanic style and the storm was quick
and the sheets were torn
some other things happened but mostly i was in the water
again only this time i wasnt invincible
myself and two other no name faces crawled on top
of a piece of floating sheet-sail
and floated on, storm calmed down a bit but still
raging more than i could handle
my mind is collapsing
its not my time to die
to the right of us now and very close there are tall
jagged black rocks its dark but we feel the water
thicken
theres a deteriorating hand stick out of the thick water and
i grab it realizing now the water is thick with bodys and we're
being pulled towards the rocks
but the gold tent idea is falling apart and i know i have to put my fears aside, i have to find something else to hold on to.
i pull the hand slowly and the body follows
im not letting myself be scared
i know this is someone else's idea
someone else's bad illusion they wanted to hand out
someone else's garbage, not mine.
we might be lost at sea for 9 months now who knows...
I've only been asleep for hours
i pull a red glove from his chest
and we all attempt to stand on it
im starting to let myself be scared now, i want away from the bodies,
i dont want to be one of them.
we're inside the rocks now
the glove had a hand i held and it led me here and i feel terrible for dragging the other two with me.
i have to be brave again,
this is my mess.
we walk through a door into very tight, dingy hallways with three rooms with no doors and glass walls
the door ways are a sort of watery looking "leak" and the rooms are blue and clean and well lit and well decorated and full of food and blankets and 30's style couches.
they look incredible, but i know better because I've had this dream before.
the air is acid and you will be another red glove body sucked into this matrix of a black rock if you enter the room.
one of the other two with me, which i can now see is me when i was a little girl goes to put her hand through the watery enterance to the room, she's irrational and senseless, she wants comfort and security and not even fear will stop her.
i snatch her hand away and walk into the room instead,
sacrificing myself for my childhood and the second person, my future, to be free of the black hole-black rock.
i dissapear quickly into nothing and everything,
doors disapear, the storms clear, old me tells future me to never stop kicking leafs and smiles, everythings is in the air now and we wont ever be hungry or scared again.


so far the things that are clearer than when i last had the dream: I know who the other two people with me are now, she says something at the end, the sails are gold tents, im not as afraid of the bodies as i was, i was alot calmer than i used to be, before i had only gotten as far as the other person reaching towards the doorway before the dream ended


*by leak I mean doorway to a different dimension type, like Vonnegut describes mirrors... No other word for it.


This is close but not quite... much more black there

Theres more that you could’ve said
Theres more than just telescope daydreams
that should’ve been hung on that wall
OUR wall
Our ceiling covered in stars that wouldn’t ever
come out if day didn’t come first
Our dusted over universe
Our broken kaleidoscope of promises
Promises you forgot
To hang up
to remember what we could have been
the lack of atlas markings…
those were my promises
for me and to me
the footnotes, check marks, and pictures
“of you and me to that back drop”
Remember?
It didn’t come soon enough to save us
you could have said more…
but we know and
you say
“we’ll be fine”
I will be just
fine

So I’ve been sitting here for the majority of the night feeling sorry for myself, it doesn’t matter what I call it really, neurotic, irrational, whatever, just basically having myself a big ol’ tight lipped pity party because nothing seems to be going right, things apparently don’t just happen because I want them to… I’m hiding from everyone and everything, wallowing in my own hand made and blended fall and shit soup, and I feel like no one wants to talk to me.

I feel like I have all this shit on my mind and everyone else can see it so they’re steering clear when all I need is a fucking hug or some cough medicine or a phone call to go kick leaves and talk inspiration. Blah blah blah…

So. Its 12:30am and no one’s calling which wouldn’t normally be such a let down because it’s the middle of the night but its been raining the last forever and I haven’t had a good dose of serotonin in weeks so I interpret the lack of my phone ringing off the hook and the empty inbox as no one wants to be around me…. now I’m feeling even more needy. Fuck. So I start sifting through blogs and bulletins… checking to see what everyone else is up to, looking for some kind of reason that probably wont make me feel any better.



Fall smells so good, there are so many pretty colors, and I love the feeling of being completely bundled up wandering around with hot chocolate and a runny nose thinking to myself or talking ideas.

So… taking a moment to stop and read what other people are thinking, much to my surprise and delight, EVERYONE feels in one way or another, as sad or as lonely as I do! “BAH!” It’s been so foggy my head fogged over! Of course! Other. People. Have. Feelings. Too. This I know! Here I've been so selfish and caught up in myself to think that Im the only one whos sad sometimes. Other people are affected by the weather the same as me, other people get lonely and want someone else there to snuggle up in blankets and watch the rain. I know that when it rains in the northwest, we ALL get depressed and boxed up every once in a while, that’s science, and that’s why we have such awesome and varient artists and writers.

I am sitting where I’m sitting, blogging, thinking to much, writing, smoking to much, twitching my eye at the sky and the cold, dying for someone to just stop by with a smiling face and yummy ideas to pull me out of this insanity/ inspiring rut and everyone else I know is doing the exact same thing.

My idea: lets call each other. I want to host a middle of a pretty fall day fall get together, I want everyone, musicians or not, to get together in my back yard and make music and sing songs and talk and hug and give each other the attention we’re all so desperately and inactively searching for. We know we all love each other, we know we’ve all got our own shit going on. But we all in one way or another want attention, we love fall but we hate it. Let’s kick all the bad parts to the curb, lets get together and drink cocoa and/or whiskey and talk art and tell each other we love each other.

Fall is an awesome season,

we’re all guilty of wasting to much of the inspiration energy on hiding and waiting. Soooo fuck it, lets stop waiting, lets all get together and help ourselves by helping each other….

I woke up still today the same as yesterday
and shook by it
How I can fix anything if everything I compare to anything else never matches up?
It’s the little lights I’m in love with, - I want them to be dead.
I used to wake up in sweat to horrible images contrasting the good days.
When I could see and feel my brain moving at the same time, and hours would go by and the clock wouldn’t change, I KNEW in that second, the meaning of life.

Now I wake up still and rested and my dreams tell me:

“this is all a test, that love isn’t real, singular love will never be for you.
this. Is. A. test. everything you’ve ever concluded and ever will conclude is wrong, I will stomp on your facts and your faith because I can, I will show you lights and images and typical reasons to believe. I will test you until you die. What will you do next?”

everything in me is screaming: You will never be settled. Everything else is ok with it… and wondering why the hell I am still lying in this bed, in this room, an empty space next to me, when I know the only reason this is upsetting at all is that that space should NOT be empty. But there it is… I tell myself what I know: this isn’t your choice anymore, if you want to stay, than it is not your choice anymore… Stay and see what comes up, or stop waiting and get over it.

If all is possible and nothing is everything and everything is apparently, now, proven to be nothing, can’t I use a black hole to take a trigger or two back just once?
I could if I believed it.
I could if I wasn’t so afraid.
I ask:
“Where does junk get off telling you how you feel?
And who are you listening to, yourself or no-one?”
Remember when we were content?
What are you so afraid of?
That you wont be uncertain enough?
Nothing is certain, you couldn’t change that if you tried… trust me.

Others swing back just as quickly as you swings back to "that"
I know its not intentional, but you're getting really good at "unintentionally" showing me you dont care. and Im getting good at feeling it. at least a little better at letting of steam without blaming it on you. I dont even know why Im still writing, i already feel better. I wish I could just crawl into your mind, understand whats the root of every bad emotion so I could help you figure it out. but damnit Im obviously upset and you just ignore it. you always just ignore it. you get that tone... and treat me like an aqaintence or something. Like you cant handle your own emotions so you dont look me in the eye... you avoid me. all i want is a hug and a kiss on the forehead, you dont even have to say anything, you dont even have to say sorry. This isnt a push over contest. our relationship IS NOT a contest. Stop being so goddamn controlling! your being a hypocrit! You forget that Im here too. Im a human being... with emotions, and something to say damnit.
...
emotions you're suppose to care about. you're suppose to want us to be happy. were suppose to be comforting to each if we're not feeling good or we're sad. stop avoiding my emotions!
how are we suppose to have ------- together when this is how you handle things.
I cant stand the thought that ---- ----- --- ----------- ------- --- --- ---- ----.

my life turned completely upside down; changed for the better.
a month or two(?) later I lost your insides... and completely turned again. not BACK, I cant ever go back, but again.
Im scared of fear, Im scared that a let down like this could make me worse than I was...
But somehow... the relapse, the drugs, the booze, hung over on the porch and daydreams brought on by rain smell, and hair smell, and the terrible smell of my breath, or hands I could never have, are a relief.
ALL this frustration, trying to find myself again, the let downs, the "someone else gets what I lust for by default"...
just might be frustrating enough to help me write something that will fucking sell. I almost want to drop everything and hitchhike until I find that something I refuse to admit I've been looking for.

I'll always be a child...
but hell, Im still young, right?

You shouldnt ever hate anybody you dont actually know,
you dont truely know anybody,
rarely does anybody even truely and completely know themselves.
what the fuck makes YOU think your judgement is so great?




I "hate" the way you think sometimes

some time late fall,
we finally lost it
at dawn we wandered the back alleys of home to the bakery where the baker was tossing out slightly moldy bread
we asked if we could have it, put it in a black trash bag, you put in a couple of bananas then packed some wet leaves on top
i threw open the garage door and dug out of boxes that apparently had all my things in them what i thought i might need:

a couple of lighters
two pairs of clothes
a blanket
socks
a partial carton of smokes
a guitar strap and some strings
a calling card
etc...

we hitched rides up to Seattle in less than a day
and spent the night under a bridge eating bananas and reading

we started forgetting about obligations in the city
then moved west to the woods and forgot why we came
we found a river and forgot why it mattered
you started a fire
i rinsed out our clothes
everything was wet anyway
my legs were numb below the knees but i didnt care
you played harmonica
we picked at the bread
i know im happier in dreams, sometimes i think i would
be better off dead
i hate waking up



experiment? next summer?
check list:
1.) Find a more reasonable way to justify it

that im already planning for the worst?

im desperate
and comparing this to how it ended for you before
its never come close to this before for me
i dont know what to do with this
we talk and act like were best friends
which we always have been anyway
i dont feel anything else from you at all
i hurt
im scared
i miss you
i want you back
i hate not being in control like this
i hate that were just as confused as each other
i want to know whats going to happen
being stuck in the middle is an aweful feeling

a year invested towards the good life is falling through the grate
i dont know who to talk to but you
I'll just talk to my journal i suppose...
ha.
fuck. shit. sob. cough.
"what?" this hurts too much.
you dont know who to talk to either
maybe its time for change...
fuck!
change together though, please!
I dont have the guts or the lack of utter... obsession
...love...
to leave
you say you just want to run away
its getting confusing but at least were confused together
i want to keep dealing with this the right way
and by right i mean i dont want to lose you.
please...
tell me I'll always know where to find you...

mmmmmmhmhmmmm
something about 20 somethings and
walking old railroad tracks
ESPECIALLY on drugs
better yet the morning after
in black and white
or somethingggg.....
im on cloud nine for the moment

bah!
someone bring me drugz