12/31/12

Friction

I've always wanted to understand friction
Where heat and callous meet
I've always felt
The blows pummel and pelt
What else?
Oh, to see my assailant

Yet i know what is not friction
At times
At times an open eye finds an open sigh
Releasing god from pressed shoulders

In life's kiss
At a time like this
Where the whirl waits
To let the clouds by
Fast as easy
But tempered
With fly

I've always understood friction
Just never why

12/30/12

Never a moment

Never moment occurred to me
A pull this moment now throws
So that lusty sewage drains
To cement floor and chains
What chains of love
And of affection
They caress like splints and wraps

Pain, an air-old spear
Making tear-whole to our mirror
In the wake of an affliction

Plucking awake
Pilfering so awake
Pricking so far awake
To tearless, casual agony
The kind that keeps you there

And what was what i cared?
That so quick a tower pales
Peak overshadowed to squeak
I meant a care.
Please believe me.
Every second i meant for the last
And now
At last...

For this i am sobered:
That until now
Never a moment occurred to me

Extrescence

This is a poem of extressence
Of candids quipped quitely
Of cursory curses caressing
Nurturing in cursors
And feeding on the blessing
A god bless america!
And a neolithic OOH-RAH!
I'm hardly heady but my head feels heavy
Plugged with luggs too cold to be dead
So pressing and pushy, impressing my head
With clickers and pictures-- there goes the levy
Brain tumbles everywhere
It fills in dull red
This is a poem of putrescence
How a sickness boils and bloats
How while it feels so good to vomit
Where do you put the shit you eat
Where do you step to ease your feet
Where can you sweat out what you read?
Hide me.
I've done a terrible thing.
I took a glass of fix-it
Let it ring
I sneaked a peek of slipstitch symbol
When i was writing
Don't you see the cold Hypocrisy!
An ardent worder gone to click it
like an adolescent Sadducee
Forgive me language
Forgive me god
May my soul rest for this crime
I'd wager it already gone

12/29/12

Fission

Give me a drink
To wash this taste from my mouth
To wash the waste from my mouth
Disgrace in the house
The house of the lord

Surely name overrides shame
That makes me laugh
like a cheap perfume
I laugh for noxious fumes
What more to do?

What more can live in this fission
Between consequence
And bad decision

Tomorrow is beautiful

Tomorrow is beautiful,
But let's not be coy
I went saw a truthifer
He said i enjoy
The Countless encroachables
That don't press the door
But wait in our whimsied words
Tales of distant shores

What's more! Croaked the truthifer
No fool should you be
If wanting leaves you waiting
For perfect lady
I let off the melody
Of a pulsing panting smitten soul
Luck be to you, wisened one
For tuning to my goal

Now fireside approaches
Forgetting true grit
A warming awaiting immanence
Reader, do you wit?
For if you do
Don't rid of it
I need something
till tomorrow

Yellow

In your room make room for small lights
And in your house, burn a candle
For though overhead overshadows them
-sight by candle posing tedium-
Those precious stars resume

In your distant night
In afternoon gloom
There wind behinds aglow
Marveling small
For the god behind glass
Of flickering yellow

12/26/12

Comeabound exhaustion

That day I took her to the night
And stroked it in a sweeping gesture
What pain had wrought that hapless daze
As I looked upon the lights
Of which, myself became a fixture
In the foggiest of glaze

She turned and asked me what i saw
To which i feared reply
I let myself give in to awe
To steep my feet
Dissolve the beat
Breath pause for asking why.

That day i told her by the muse
stroking it's Tawny mane
Lores forbidden even to dark
Who stooped to hear it said
Of spectral hounds invoking close
Upon ticking, tiny heads

It furthered full in routes divine
It took the senses--and what else is
Yours as well as mine.
Hers as well as ours
And it laid with us sublime, it did

She turned to me with some warrant of love
But i turn my ins back
I looked inside for a tale to ride
I saw an empty sack
A notice of billing on the mantle above

I look this girl
I look this night
I look the fixtures
No more
I sigh

So Says the reminiscent fool
With nothing more to give
If only for one moment could
he play as well as live

12/25/12

Fruit

We take our time to consider keys
the fortune of the most personal kind
coincidental masterpieces flown in by storm
chaotic resolve of the mind
We take our days sipping what elucidation
that eases through our spirits in tides

A pressing moment forms, at moments of recede
we tell tarry to pick its sides
We come to points, pointedly armed
with needles unbent on foes
Explosion to depths-- phasing out sundries
points open in blossoming rose

Cradled rose holding
until it is too much
then ceremony shreds the rose
to druss

We take our time to consider the petals
Falling, Swelling in the visceral sea
coincidental masterpieces flown away by storm
collective foraging of We

12/21/12

Contrary

Contrary to the evidence you witness
This writer is too weary to write
the scrolls ran out
to a gritty, singed end
Satisfaction banned even then
And bitterness set in
Even that too fell away
like guilted sin

Contrary to the evidence of my brain
The soul's sluggish and wisped
Contrary to hard events
to pain
i Seem aswell on seas whose breeze
suck the swell of my geas
All over again
All over again i've doubt
that settles now in literary drought

Contrary to the construct
Of health and glamour in my life
You people don't give me happiness
You of the clever knife
You of the soulless plunge
to unhinge mysteries
expunge

i plea for letting be
For them to get away from me
but it strikes me now
So contrary

12/20/12

Everbristling

I used to write words for what wasn't there
They condensed like clips on balding hair
They culled to bare a witless wind
of whose effects I summoned in

Yet you set to pull strings and undo me
bound to sound doves of pertinence through me
So full a chorus in verdent air
yet kindled kind, to show me care
And so pure a demure allowed to brew
In me. For you.

My phraming vice for whom I take each day to laud
With meager recompense wrought in gilded awe
These lightblind gifts I place to base a further series
of clever ones and heartfelt tons
to send your eyes ableary
but they fail to narrow or divide the realms
that branch everbristling into a cosmic elm
So forgive my poor feints to express a heart
When the heart so enrobes in such a piece of art

12/16/12

Sitting the sky by

I sat a conversation by
Wouldn't anybody
With a winter's clean sky
Where the rim is as orange as it should be
After so many days bundled
He shook his cumulus coat
to sing me a refrain
An interchange I can't have wrote

He looks so old
wrinkles ringing the dome
His skin tallowing
to a purple close to home
where the sky kisses field
and field blushes sensually
in the floral burst
that still haunts
men of steel
men of velvet
I can see he misses her
He moans to those below
tuning his great eye
To the heartest, wrenching sigh
as I sat the conversation by

have you ever noticed
(and excuse me for my silly
but have you noticed really?)
that the sky does not change
Sure, he bumbles along
Shine to rain
but have you ever thought
that though our presences shift
And change
and our towns grow
and we old and slow
and we scurry here-there
In a footstep maelstrom
He's still here
Even now
as I sit a conversation by

As I walk the next day
he filled the air
to grant me entorage
tenderness pattering my hair.






PS: I'm not sure this last stanza fits. Give thoughts.

12/15/12

Unsolvency

Swings a pendulum on my neck
Lolling beatless to the mind
Heaving
Swaying
Closed in Truth of Lie

meditation spells
Send me down
To the hells
A colding, wantless place
Devils are of every corner
A conglomerate nothing
It whispers like static
of just parts of things
lessening importance
to infinity

Now to keep my head skyward
Heaven knows the time's ripe
Now to fish my innards out
to life
I bring my eyes
-- none else obliged
From the ever fathomed sea
To look high
at grey sky
at inkling unsolvency

Dare

Should it stay secret?
Should I scream it to the ends?
Should I worry of the envy
sure to invoke among my freinds?
Should I call a lawyer?
Should we tighten it to treaty?
Is it right to have rights
to elemental beauty?

So kind
so true
so sharp
A whiplike shock at the very start
Yest so swing
so sly
So worth it

Should I dare to call her perfect

12/10/12

I

dear heavenly I
a letter of impish infamy
iron clad to a face
yet impossible to meet in one's head
to embrace
too much spoken for the magnanimous name
like bouncing balls into a volcano
"I feel
I think
I want"
to sink into deep cessions
though this raised figure tilts ad twirls
to glint the sun
who holds it, friend?
something? someone?
which I allows to I another?
which sounds spell out the sound of a druther?




Forgive my recent poetry snap. been away. been Musicaling in different manners.
I don't like what I've recently writ. I suspect a down time perhaps, to recuperate or quit.
However, however bad I become, I intend to think this way. it breeds well-thought thinks.

12/9/12

Comfort


Comforter pulled
pressed up to my cheeks
pause for a sigh
then the ears stoop to seek
a comfort drawn 'way
proposed that morning of firsts
it trickled through my ears
taking care of my thirsts
so much lack like so much black
blankets the stage of a falling mind
though at times off-setting
i do recall
a fondness for the simplicity of blind.

12/1/12

Here

Gallon drops on the screen
Skewing everything
it makes me so cold
so cold to see
too cold to be
Here

While crisp drips zag down
without a sound
I feel a peculiar spirit
a demon of drown
Here

So out I go to see my fortune
One unwon
I'll shock the world--I know it
If I could be gone
From here

11/23/12

Stage face

He rests his head
Lolling just over his shoulders
As he were posed for prayer
Addressing one off of non-chalant
soliloquies like air

The vents point ever in
in deeper to his brain
past caverns of stage props where,
demons, devils, witches, and saints
Invite you all to stare

In him, such denizens
pace on the back mind
striving in a distinct hunger
with inkling towards the spots
To claim souls through virulent wonder

Watch them now, these beasts
how they play in his head
how latent, how pulsing
Drawn to where the fire blares
and soft hearts are listening

Never a show more to see
than the spitfire of his demure
for he takes away faces
in the flash of his little roar
and leaves always without traces

tips you to think:
Nothing is sure

Left

What's left to give?
Should I have held something back
For I want to show---no.
For I want to give---no
I want you to know
But what more exists
must i take those steps untaken
must I do which is undone
When I arrive with all possibilities
What's left to give.
The moon?
The sun?

11/21/12

Two

Two open
two eyes
two pairs
Sync swift
sync sound
sync soul
The pair of bolts darts
Speeding like the other
to the other
Crushing walls
crushing sights
crushing space
to crushing hearts
Two pairs
two sights
two syncs
two sighs

Null

Fornicating Fricatives
Pounding Pulcritude
Mangle like Miscreants in my May
Vicious Vowels
once only ornery
Brim and Boil in my Bowels
so Syllables Stagnate
While Impious Imitation Impregnates
Heaved to heart without Hurl
It Nully Nauseates

Chosen child

They could have chosen me
They could have chosen you
I promoted to sing
While you stilled
to think of everything
By this, I knew
They will have chosen you

As time pulls round
and I twiddle my songs
(stately, or of the common sound)
I'll squint my eyes
to look at mansions in the sky
not with loss
like some self-struck ague
But to remember:
They could have chosen me
But I'm happy they chose you.

11/15/12

Passage

It could have been brutal
It could have been weird
The passage to mortal
The passage to peer

Bloated anxiety
Subsequents ecstasy
Am I finished?
Is this it?
A stanza blasting
Nor room for more to fit?
Seems empty

Hold my calloused mind
worn about on spins of rhyme
In a course to run me blind:
Works of Worth Will I.

so rebirth
Pent up on heights
Miraculously climbed
so dive
down into the ground
Onto the knee
Without soliloquy

It could have been brutal
It could have been weird
That passage to mortal
That passage to peer

11/4/12

open

On an open wake
I beach my brine
I come to suck in the space
To soak out the misaligned

11/1/12

Sodium spill

Sodium spill
Blossoms bubbles of will
On a grey-drenched world
for a coat-trenched man
What a man he was
a buzz
What a man he seemed
he beamed
Now foraging streets
a ride he entreats
But no man ushers such a man
He's banned
Thrown out for his will
Into sodium spill
______________________________

Sodium spill
Blossoms bubbles of Half-will
In a grey-drenched world
For a coat-trenched man
caught under water
under pressure
The blue's peace
Deceased
Now foraging streets
he entreats
But no one offers such a man
their hand
He falls away in half-will
Into sodium spill

Low pressure

A low pressure sweep
I heard it on the news
It said: "Lock the doors
step back and snooze"
so the low pressure punch
Pulled people from morning to lunch
Up into marbled sky
Still sleeping
Still slowed
And roused them to rise
From the scarred and wry
With an omnipresent flowing sigh
Then benefactor wind
whisping through
whisping through
Pushed them back in
Into their homes
onto their beds
Grins growing in their heads

Sandal and Train

It slipped on soapy little sandals
Made of most modern mint and make
Unweildy, too yeilding
a hopeless dash to appealing
______________________________

A roaming Train
In the looming rain
A cacophonous blitz
and resounding wane

10/29/12

My Voyeur

Leathery flaps hold up pitter-pat
Like the comely and warming embrace of a bat
She's a gracious host to cloister by,
On a dampened street under darkened sky

Sneering sovreign at good and grim alike
She stands atop my walking pike
Water streaming in a delta's dendrite
A voyeur to the wind and rain

10/27/12

Empty cheeks

Loneliness haunts
In the shadow of a face
A company unwanted
A company undeserved
He plagues the form
a malignant tallow
for company so wanted
for company undeserved

Bear

Fear is a bear.
He walks the wood
and sways with each step
a slow and lumbering arm
Sets his staff down:

A carven ordeal
of oak and age
Etches gleaming wisdom
of a competent sage.

10/24/12

We'll see

"We'll see"
That's the best you'll ever get out of me
Me, without a one-two punch or a killer head to knee
I'm dream of a buzz caught by the loneliest bee

and it sucks
To hear collapsible bells
Unfolded, they relay the tales and tells
Shake me from one hell of a spell
You see, all they ever say
about watching and learning
I never thought to watch
So they right it in burning

they say to me HEY.
Hey you over there,
you in the two piece suit
struggling to care:
We see you got off
we're Only wondering where
cause if you don't ride in full
We won't tolerate or spare

and it hurts
to know you never earned the words
that were granted so common in machine-gun spurtz
what am I really,
if not labelled in commune
do I think myself valorous?
Impervious?
Immune?

Every scream slashed these lips
And you wonder why I find it hard
To re-equip, click, tick?
I'm sick of it
Sick of games
sick of me
But I guess we'll see.

Sickly

And What was sweet was sweetly moderate
But turns sour as the soul's monument

What was clear was aligned with green
Now a muddy hand rushes everything

10/23/12

Chandelier

I prey upon the chandelier
Like a spider to the world
Such new, such bright
But I play the true fright
With cold and beady eyes

I crawl upon the chandelier
Osmosisized in seeing
The dogs may barks
The whole house may burn
But this is that I see

So here I see the chandelier
First time to spot its realms
So many facets filling there
A maze of grooves and curves
All too swell

The ancient peoples built them
,the dangling bits and duds,
With purpose eloquent, but lost
What see me in thee, chandelier?
What secrets etched the elders
in gawdy, dandy frame.

The one who loves me

I have one who loves me
with eyes of bronze
But a sight of gold

I have one who loves me
with movements fierce
and a countenance bold

I have one who loves me
who takes the day
to remind me of love

I have one who loves me
who reads the spirits into play
Sitting by and by the rug

I have one who loves me
Who puts feet to the ground
while she manipulates the sky

And this one who loves me
I love like no other
and nothing grand can enlighten why

10/14/12

Naiad

Upstream
A splashing naiad
She stands across the street
Too much not to see
All around her, raindrops
literally shimmer in glee
I walked right by a naiad
I just wish she'd looked at me.

It flew from my head

A page flew from my head
Who am I to make this thing walk?
Who was I when I did?

I flew from a stand
Just a jump in the air
A jump in the right direction

The streets below like strands
Up they went, they too ran
Tumbling, weaving land

Word scritches like a scream
plays me on the right team
And I fall to my dreams

From Air to floor to knees to face
I Try to keep up with cancer-like rates
of a killer-kindled case

Nostrils breath earthen dust
Smell of iron, smell of rust
Then up again, with a gust

He revs to reveal true parts
He stands to steal rouge hearts
He ups to urge new march

Cozy and not


Unchecked care calls for catastrophe
as images form in the dust
Played alive by buzzed symphony
Played easy throguh hair all mussed.
----------------------------------------------------

Cozied up
Cold swirls about the muzzle
Of his furtive phrase furnace
And his chapping lips ping

The air tightens the eyes
He stares--Pushing the limit of snapping
Over the borders of calm
In an overwhelming glance
the trance takes him through
On passions from a penniless prayer

The furnace flames from his eyes
Pushing pulsing pointing
Then the furnace forms to overflow his frame
He blows away
Vanished

The daughter

Out there in the mists
Through the rain
Softly sits
Prim, Potent, Pale
The silly daughter in sail
Donned in whispies
Dusted with soot
She plays your eyes
Tempts the wise
Leads you out on foot
Through the great mother darkness
And the great father wood

A valley

Bicycle chain goes through my brain
As I whir past city-lined streets
I paused in the Jungle--It still rains
I sit praying to trims and trees
Under cloudground lit with sodium jungle-fire
Ride around, trying ever higher

Here, now I climb, up into a valley
Lined with parkers and campers and a forest friend's rally
Beaming outside and free, these people walk bold
Flashing pictures at me, all intrusive
Near a place that I never saw as old, mean or nice, lead or gold
The place that I always lived

With doe eyes, they form a line
ringing me back to my den,
In a panic, I rush through vines
Going further and further in
I bolt past Traffic, sheds houses attics
I promise never to go back there again.

10/10/12

Out

like a vomit
Unexpected,
perfectly fall

Hoses out
over balconies
Over cliffs
off the continent
Past the elephants
Past the turtle
Through the icy scapes
Until suns out-exist it

All away
unexpected
depletion

Oh, a torment!
Shot through
holes surrounding
deflation frowning
slid so far
so far
Through the wires of the world
Until it folds out of space

Unwarranted
Unexpected
Outburst

10/9/12

Ball o twine

Sit me, unlistening
rewinding a colorless string
Stretched, numb, thin
latchless sin

Tailored taunts
Wear me gaunt
Eating through the inside
Ruin I confide

Then it whispers
and collectively utters
Chills breathe through
A color so true

The eddies ease
A gust of geas
Brought bright into the world
Ideas warm and curled

A frigate of fire
I Sip blue ire
Tightening 
That sad and hopeless string
Only to unravel again

Undone

Uttered from cracks
An Uplift
Unsuspected
Ugly split
Upturned
Undone

Condoned
Downstairs
jaunty sauntry
Downwards
Downturned
Done

10/7/12

If it rained

If it rained
I might see a sudden decomposition
And underswept with the floods
I might flee a grand disposition

Oh if it even sprinkled
those little spritz Stealing through the cracks
might pour into the hesitant mouth
of an ancient creature green and black
I hear him grumble in a dream
For now he only mustles
At the brown cloud of something obscene

If the sky grew dark
On the chance of one deeply nested night
The tears of streetlit grievance
might solve through all the mortar in sight
I'd sail in the suspension
of broken cities
Partially reconstituted

If the winds sang a tempest
If they wrought from the sky
the cares from every careworn god
the screams from every creature flawed
into a most gracious destruction
into a crippling expression
Then let me watch its disintegration

If it rained
I might float in expedition
and underswept with the floods
I might flee a grand disposition.

But so?

Scenes spiral from a singular girl:
Endless streets,
on sky-backed grey
Closed-down bookstore,
brooding in symph
And then a sunbent crest of joy
me and my nymph

I ruminate in shape of submission
Teasing sets and stories that never were
See, she held me through the rain once
but this you know she never did
She sang inspiration to a quivering child
but me. the child, would have hid
She sidles on the by, glances aside
as I transmute wants and memories

Such confusions breed bonds
and it pushes prudence putrid
It intrigues my restless needs
now held, both in confluence
What a grievous dance!
as she takes me to her bosom
So many moments fleshed out so full
it burst apart an aching heart

As night turns dark, she turns to me
she chats in weary discourse
Now, it seems, nirvana speaks
Delighted without syllable
Or so mt mind would have
Or so my heart would make it
But so?
...
I do not want to break it?

10/3/12

Capri

Child, she sees
The glory
on a subtle white paper
She kneels
In a kitchen parlor
amidst queer looks and remarks
She Closes her eyes
A closure to the world of ours
Fully shut to sight
And soon
She rolls away the lid
A child's protection
to the unlimit beneath ignorant sunny eyes
She wakes
Eyes missing
In replacement, a captured luminescence
and under close inspection
the concentration of worlds
a black hole of creative loads
Lifted to such elevation
through the sight of this littlest one
Timeless now,
She bleeds
eyes and ears and mouth
pour forth the sepia of a thousand spirits
the ichor of untouchable character
to spritz and flay a subtle white
into a calm white horse
outlined in grey crayon
Horse sufficing this ulterior God
She stays this capricious maelstrom
Ceases this magnanimous ray
Unwinds the play
She sits
Indifferent
Untouched

Hold

The glade of dreams
Hovers close it seems
Like stormclouds curling
and silently whirling
Draping scenery
With unwieldy energy

But here in my home
Of ivory bone
Dark callings come hence
And I wince
As hordes claim holding
to the plaster and molding
Which I've waiting wanting since.

In the right connection
Flush with star's intention
the hold comes back to me
And the inhabitants, they flee
So there I will slump
to articulate misery.

10/2/12

Forgive?

First forgive for a break in poetry. This does not happen often.

Next forgive for my recent expenditures, I like this topic. I love the color of sundown over the pacific. 

Finally forgive me for I wrote six poems yesterday that I will never share with anyone but my Anisha. I have even forgotten them myself.

Normally withholding such works, to me, seems like burning them, especially if I didn't collect them to myself for future analysis, but recently I've been taking a hoarding mentality to these works and I think that causes harm.
Therefore, I chose to deny myself these works. Otherwise, I write merely for myself, which never does right. As I say, "Art does not begin with the self, it begins with everything else." I selfishly ask you to quote me on that. 

Decent descent

Afterglow like an aftershave
sighs away from source
it flies away smooth
It spreads to soothe
Powerful but without force

Grow me a sage from the furtile age
Ruminating in the soil of grace
I say this the light flat to my face
as the sun smarts it's downside race

So the sage grows within me
Unaware, unabashed
He hoards great sights
both heavy and light
Till his spirit settles to ash

Now furtile as first he knew
A sunny sail on tides of dark blue.

10/1/12

Many sundown savories.

Oh, the thinly-stried strings
bound relentless
Full of endings
lapse to nothings

In a glow highlighting woe
like the flush of scars
these straightwit beams
Brew here from afar

Cut, they do, from the medium of shadow
A dance of tired shapes
and softening tallow

Earth turns with reluctant rate
weaving orange
like a heart of burdened fate
Swathes of flame
glaze the tides at sunset
and the tide flows out
to silence, for once, this upset

9/29/12

Claustrophobic

She tells to tell
an unbroken spell
oozes secrets like shoots
too voracious to quell

Her tome from bind
unload the spine
from dead-weight sediment
of compound rime

So shoots and roots
burn through her boots
to sink her further
an earthen-wear suit.

The soil untouched
her words some-suched
She forgot to let it flow
So bearing no fruits,
inward she grows.

9/27/12

Trees have no free time

A lull of the times poses particles pacified
A lull in the folds fills with feeling of fair
Easy tides, Easy growth, Easy tunes, Easy pastimes
To grow dimensionless onward, and shrink from feel.
Break from the role
Slowing your soul
listen in whole


Forego the fall in the forward
While away, whittling what we have left
Take to tell, but Turn the tale of it later
No one knows the new from the next next
Sip on the sun.
Run full undone.
Be done.


Lace a loop round capital buildings
Wipe the gripes that grow in the grass there
Sting the stains of greed and pestilence too
Sell your cables for a candle at bedtime
Sit by the night
Sit through alright
Hold tight

Headless

Feeble, under steeple
he listens to his people

Stable, like a fable,
He holds them encabled

Overripe, on a pike,
His people take a hike

Now to the country o'er
Build one up, and lower

Reapers seeking token,
Headless body: broken.

9/25/12

Hestial

I wish that, outside my window,
it were not the moon,
but a merry Hestia
Wrought of soul and flame,
one with your familiar voice,
and your enamorous name

Give me pleasure to see her now,
after still refrain in hazy white
and terror-flashes that breed there
Give breeze to me,
From the hair-furnished furnace,
soaked in savory glow of care.

I'll take her,
That one so rare
as to make my accompaniment a pair.
So I wait silently cursing a careless moon,
and shunning lights presence like highnoon
Eyes embraced to stare.

For at a time unknown,
the cold catch of light will leave,
and filling place, the most gentle gardian
with the warmest fire to feed.

9/21/12

On The reminiscence of accumulation

The waves of want and wit
Depraved and fit
Shift away to make time all lit
So gazing I sit
In spite of it.

Thank you gorgeous sun
for what's done
the soul of the whole run

It's been a whirl
But now there's this girl
A tumbleweed, all furled
Sewn with ebony curls

And I rather think it's fun
Thinking she's the only one.

Stage

On a stage
Green wood
Splintered
Unfinished
The passive precenium
Morning and evening
in skyward procession

My mother: My sun
My shades: My escape
My queries: complete
My aswers: Infinite

She takes me in hand
she sheaves us together
Each point of focus
She reminds me
Of unfinished
the stage
Unrooted
Unlit

"Who will it be
This man before me"
"man?"
my hand sank
All through sand
and the coarser
Closer
Foster
Fester
Fold
I grow old.

9/12/12

Prep

I took steps to prepare
outside.
out there.
I took steps with a torch
slow moving.
dark porch.
I took steps through the pain
wading.
Insane.
I stepped until I came to you
You were unprepared.
You needed more too.

9/9/12

Gust


Moonshine blows from the west
laying all in ashen dress.
ashing coals surge there with zest
playing the room in contest.
Outlining light makes walls everthin
'Tween realms of real and realms within.
Ghost creatures call through the dim
a gusting chill blows through again.

9/3/12

All that time

All the time
the beauty costs a dime
What a whine
It cost us a dime
and all this time

Run away and lose it again
Run away and lose it like a grain of sand
Soak up the fey;
let's run away

All that work
The greatest feeling of torque
What a fork
Play open and easy
or play to the cork

Write away the rosaries
Write away the pain pressure of seas
Soak up the fey
Let's run right away.

All that time
Thrown to touch divine
Babel baked a rabble
now we've rabble aligned.
For the time

8/31/12

Sound?

Do I have poetry worth reading?
It seems I missed the boat. A lot.
Am I in the right ocean?
facing the right direction?

The point at end is sound,
but sounds have many ways around.

Amber

A cry in wood and sun
of seasoned labors burnt none
Of peace: furnace-brung
of songs in grain unsung

A plea pulses to all things
slow moving through amber
A yearning dirge on the strings
A homestead heart unanswered.



Carmel haze,
How do you fare?
Gooey glow glazes to glare
to soften despair

All right, all good
A sweet treacle trickles
throughout the wood
a fitting form
found spread between shadows

Winds sift
Breathing life to leaves
but it soon leaves
leaving amber on the breeze
A warming wrap
coating like dreams

Bridges in the sky

A fronting alignment on the sky
Traced with the airy pebbles
of an overarching beach

Like bulbous steps made over and on
a reaching over with a puff of a touch
The  yearn of yawning burn

to a place beyond sunsets
to a roadless intersection
to a place without sea

A place for me?

Overflow

He soaks up sweet
to keep his to my feet
But the room is warm
His brain is tallow

Good evening cello
master of mellow
He snarks without hearing
Too full to feel

So climbs the pressure,
The hatred
the greed
He roams just to feel
just to live
just to breathe

Pop.

It's lowly at first
unexpected,
he groans and curses the burst

But his flates flow till he falls flat
pouring out woe, he sputtered and spat


8/26/12

truth

The truth: I feel lame
A bound mind-mound
meant to categorize failure

The truth: it seeps
The energy squeezing itself'
Choking on a force not there

The truth: I done
Done doing dither
Done dying to care

8/24/12

Coalesce

A mark of sweat lashes the paper
A product of elements unknown
The prize of a fugitive from his ramble
To categorize his chitterings from below.

8/20/12

Bit of Piece

There is no time to Play
Play does not see time
Play does not know time

There is always a time to Work
Time pushes Work
Time domineers Work.

8/18/12

Drop

On a hazy spirit
pinned by summer gloom

A drop,
floating on its flutters
fearless to the abyss
plumets down with bliss
to rest.

Solace askew

A curtain of comfort leaves me keening
As I see it awaken in dreaming
for this world I know
only breathes naive glow
I contemplate it leaving

8/11/12

On envoyages to a friend Part 3

A gem of creamy white
did I touch tonight
it softened me
to open it
to work the adhesion
till i'd made a lesion
for the words to bleed out
Too many here to count
only to breathe
and read
And maybe through osmosis
hear the faintest heartbeat
the cherished nourishment
of bonds and kinship
_______________________




It was a beautiful letter
for its simplicity and care
in a time where I'm sure
The heart wasn't there

On envoyages with a friend Part 2


She Calls:

She sees your eyes,
your thirsty eyes,
peak out from behind your sleazy words.
Your hands, broad as cayak paddles
Run smoothly over the curves
Of long, drawn-out s's
As you roll like a kitten through your vowels,
purring as the r's bump and tickle you playfully
Those words
Even the shampagne blushes in its glass,
As you stir in the syllables and have her drink.
Drink those words,
Those greased-over sounds.

But not this time.
She gags against your innuendos,
Your participles.
She spews them on your jacket
"No", she says as she leaves.
The hurled words raw and stinking on a silk shirt
This time she didn't swallow it.

Didn't expect that
Did you?
________________________________________

I Answer:

Oh, your Chamomile toungue
laziting long in the sun
Squeezes out a wine divine
My my, she's riding fly to a superstar high 
in a literary realm of cool,
But raising the floor to the cooler below
She rides into her domain
to rule.


A healthy smattery of insane
Matches clattery of pain
worked by hands you adore.
Now roaming down icy
Mind blued up and spicy
She's everything you'd want and more.

On envoyages of a friend Part 1

I steam in the sun
It burns my brain cells
It burns my stem cells
Thus I reach no further
Only rattling hollow
with the resonance of my bones

Astonishment amounts
as I hear the tiniest echo
and I find my bones hollow
Puffed now
on the overripe gibberings
of dusty old lips
From a crusted age of wanderlust
______________________________________



8/2/12

A separate discomfort

She haunts me
She haunts me from a cave of unadulterated good
I haven't left the cave yet
Wonder if I should.

Give me the gates to find my way 'round
Tortured by a witch under the mound
hidden in by the pulp of confusion
Sundered attempts to right this confusion

Sifting through
Sifting through a photo album
I haven't seen her yet
I know I'll find sum

Rustic dinges held away by rusty hinges
When will my sea come to me
With sun's reflection of poetry
Cannablastic maddness in a jail cell

I hear a piano
I hear her playing me a song
I haven't heard it yet
It's mine

cataclysm screeching from pedantic reaching
She kills me with each imagined kiss
Don't leave me like this.
Don't leave me like this.

My hummingbird

I've been buzzed by a few birds that hum,
but none flew like this one.
See the concentrate fanaticlast
riding sidewind
Flitting fit for an upper-caste.
Yet a bat I am.
A black soarer
Night horror
Terror of the samarkand
She holds me in wisdom
Pulls me tight within.
Lips full of quips
like heirloom ships.
And while the day grows dim
She rips away worry
Sailing like fury
Peacefully playing a hymn
Look at the state she's got me in.

________________________________________


The hummingbird, from a distance, appears as one
of the most graceful and mysterious beings of the
world. As one looks closer, they see wings beating
like madness incarnate. She flies in any direction
she wishes, evading worries of most birds with
darting alacrity. Up close, her gentle flight sounds
more like the roar of a wild animal.
A potent talker,
A graceful walker,
with seemingly magical deviance to boot
This is why I attribute such a creature to you.

7/25/12

Retreat

On a clay capsule parchement
a dead hum tunes to me
he sills samely sallow sonorously.

Retreat from a flack-maddened clasp of a face
I sit to fill my comfort zone
an unhampered paste.

To sty on my throne
to leave everything alone
That's home

7/8/12

Waiting

The sun of blare
To turn the sight blue
Wheeling around the sky
Waiting for the day to end

Flasks of emotion
laden to the shelves
Surrounding the house
Waiting for the beams to bend

Capitol cities
Towers of might
Challenging heights
Waiting for foundation's rend

Whole-less completed
now full to the brim
Shining dull
Just waiting for the world to end.

7/2/12

Drop

A ripe droplet
Picks up energy
Shifting shapes

Slow harmony
Slights its sailing
Write where to fall

Earth could have smiled
Fall could have pined
Silence, Comforted.







----------------------------------------------------------------
I've been gone for a week.
With this week away, I've been a little afraid.
I seem to be losing the fresh mind I once had.
But it can't be all that bad.
I just want to keep in the motion of creation.
And never stop.

6/21/12

Brewloose

  A roll of the eyes
to Pattern's demise.
  While in the back
they take what they lack:
the sight to see flight
of chaos within an order-byte.

  See the splash refreshes
the sponge's fleshen meshes,
to gleam the resemblances
from molecules and droplets.

  The child of meshen, flighty eyes,
with a face of elven skies,
(That hang low in the day)
Spoils himself to the innate
Not a spare for the Pension or the contemplate.

Spin

You threw me a spin.
A screwed up sublimity chapel
In the middle of a storm
Crashing my senses

You drew it about
With a million tiny men
They heaved under the mass
Spilling. Wasting. Whatever.

Crept on me, to a typhoon
Splashing spirals outside sight
It pulls me in
It spins me back out again

Twisting cities getting lost
Tempermental images only faust
lose me on the rail
But there wasn't a rail to sail.

6/18/12

All people | All Seen

The room of angles
The sights bounce to everything
like a dinging pinball
then back to me

The facets face, direct in place
A forest of mirrors and shapes

It flashes to shambles
With a flash accompanying
The time between, a fall
To soft slushy waters beneath

The perspectives intended to stay unseen
Shine and blind and otherwise beam.

Mourning loss


To loss:
I read you
I wrote you
I breathed in your presence
Choked on affluence
The world at night lit up
The world in the morning seemed flat
The beauty was permanent
But only for a second
Only for a moment did you take me
But only for a moment was enough
I read you 
I wrote you
Now, I'm afraid
I lost you.

Shore


The shore calls to me.
A line of pebbles and rock.
lapping tides, sea spray.

My hands tell me to touch the surface
I wish nothing more than to be the sea.
rolling and splashing, lively and blue.

I want to journey out.
I want to be with no shore in sight.
I want to live in her arms.

Then things will grow cold.
I will again desire shore.
This time to be the earth.

Shadow bed


Smooth shadowlight spread tight to the table
A disilluminated girl sits at the seat
A Black cat stuck to black-backed night
She looks out to feel her way
all comes to her a smoke and ripple
All comes so slight and fuzzed
With a small supper of supposition
Her head tilts to rest

On the comfort of the blackcloud bed
 she takes presence.








I honestly don't remember writing this piece. 

Severity


I see them every day.
Their smiles radiate
but stone skin insulates

I didn't deserve it
It's for them, not me
From day one they told me:
This world is not for you.

Don't let this first tear fall,
without cutting out my cares
and leaving a heart wound
bleeding out my severity.





From my repertoire. Like? Dislike? Comment? Anything?

Sensless


Happy crippled smiles flipped with a switch
Lifeless treats stuffed senseless
Sweetness from a trickle to blinding white.

Heart thumps too loud
(He's trying to keep you from forgetting him)
Numb fires char open the forgotten hole.

Witless heartless senseless
Fleshy exoskeleton weighs heavy.
A squirming animal dies to get out.

And It does dies.
Crushed careless.








I can't decide whether or not to remove the second paragraph. It seems placeless with too many frayed ends.
ALSO: I can call them paragraphs because I wrote it. 

Dizzying

A slow moving whirlwind
Placing in and out of place
pacing changing pace
spacing respacing
Facing each face
of this insanity case
to rethink the race
And debase
The slow moving whirlwind

6/16/12

Brainscape

Tearaway Cloudcloak
Sear to hear with new
Upward inhale
Take first break of soil
Speedbound joyride
A vast land in store
Electri-city Brainscape
Out there for me to explore

Bottom out

The sun is still
It reminds you of peace:
"Take care.
you'll be there"

The wind holds stance
of an ever-winding face
Even it knows
It flows and goes

Plodding pine pries
"where do you see demise?"
But you do not answer

Nervous. Writhing.
Eyes burn faint and quick.
Without pretense or interplay
you tell me you can't stay










   It's been some time since I've written anything. I wonder what causes play primary. I don't know. Could it be the heat, the laziness of summer, my family's sudden changes? I think, whatever the cause, that I can take a down. I know how to use this time to add to my repertoire. Hopefully, the plans i have for cinema exposures go well. Those sort of experiences tend to help define someone. They at least open unused brainscapes.

6/12/12

EYE


Crease on the blackround
A wrinkle revealing light
One stained swivel-brained eye
Poised and balanced

Bursting golden out from his core,
This ocular marvel emanates clean:
Beams of sunlight, tarnished yellow,
Gently touch the scene

Mortical creeps dart down his long frame
This eye turns round to see them off
With creaks and squeaks he manages thus
Only, there are no more to see.

After all,
they live of pudding reminiscent of deep-sea.
His Spindly wisps of fingerling light
Man-o-war stingers to them.

First breath takes in and in and in.
All as much as possible.
Our friend, the swivel eye
knows of nothing much.

So he rips away essences of stuff
Just to feel and understand it.
Frantic pacings blur passage of time.
Soon all has been passed over with his touch.

He breathes up all he can of the world
"Picture this!" He knows. "A picture of things!"
For which he knows to himself, but can't explain
The colors confuse him so

Hours spent deciphering, familiarizing, self-discussing.
Still no closer than when he began.
The passing shapes of humans and place.
(though he knew of no names to fit)

After time well spent decoding every riddle
He came to a conclusion about it:
This is the world in which I am a part.
Then someone flipped off his switch.

Click! A droned-away humm droned slow to a stop.
The Light clicked off, the heart fell out.
Our friend returns to his previous state.
More shows to come at a later date.






I suggest reading this one twice, then telling me what you think. There is a comment's section, by the way. It exists.

6/11/12

Madness and... Mostly madness

    In a lapse in all good sense, my sense comes through. Like a gymnast who found all she needed to do to reach that further limit was break her back out of place.

I admit, and I assure all others living likewise agree, that ADHD life hurts. First imagine the cliche: The television that randomly switches channels. The nearsighted kid. The firework. Now imagine this: You were born into life loose. All the nuts and bolts in your body and mind sit a little unleashed by a few turns. It doesn't unhinge completely (at least not often), it just flexes and sways ways that send sense ahazed.

   This relates to me, because currently my nuts and bolts feel a tad maladjusted. Someone tightened them. Probably a side-effect of all the Tea I've inhaled to ward of this plague. But at the marrow, my brain feels correlating, active, and aware. In no other time would I have been able to show you this image that I write:



Mad


Mad machinist making mad machinery
Meddling more to manage menial motivators
An Ivory invalid of indigo eyes
Insightful intakes of incense and exercise
Loose rods left reeling lazily
Falling from fithole to floor
Holds he, hovering effigies
Heaved haphazardly, hanging heavily
Too truthful to take to the tart tartarus of reality
Too tantilizing to trim the taste for traction and vitality

Mad machinist makes meaningful mechanisms
Mad machinist missed concrete correction-isms







on another note: Madness is a Fantastic band!

6/9/12

Untouched Porridge: The first poet


There is much debate to this effect. An effect so old, predating art.
It is this which I dissect. This, in its possible parts:

Who wrote which words which weigh
alone, the heaviest in our minds?

Who wrote them first, I wonder,
he who heralded them as heavenly sighs?

That coin-tossed winner won the privilege
Of writing ANY words to suit his image.

Now us ravaged hunters endlessly forage
For forbidden fruits and perfect porridge.

--------------------------

I wrote this piece in response to another writer. The piece I was reading was trite, and bored me to tears, but I couldn't tell him that. I felt obligated to tell him that he wrote something anyone writes. I hope I didn't hurt him.

6/7/12

Star walk

I took a walk that night,
Torturous night
I reached back a neck to rest
See stars in place
I watched them perform
to those of those who mattered
Scattered, prancing,
silly beings

Ongone. Meditation.
Those stars shook the sky
What once looked solid with intimidation
Shuffles. Crumbles. Tumbles
through cracks up high
covering the pavement
Dusty misreadings
Now I see the star's names

With lightened steps
Fearing none
I threw all into perilous
I reached back my neck
Unraveling the sky-scroll
gravitation shifting
Sensations uplifting

I took a walk that night
An equally troubled night
Scattered, prancing,
Silly things
I Forget
I look down
I see him
He looks tired
Expectant
Inspired

6/2/12

Bound Time

Latches close around leather-worn flesh.
pulling taught and closed.
Cold steel grip encircling.
Chain of duty.


Flat face with markings so precise.
Sharp, functional, black.
Curvature drawing out the days.
Chopping and dicing.


Harmonious symphonies ring out with each tick.
Smart, and piercing through a silent second.

5/29/12

My Anisha

She screams at me in the most silent of ways.
She acts out in unseen plays.
She lassos nooses wrapping.
When she's gone:heart-sapping.

Jabez



Bash my head to the desk.
Begin an ending to this tribulation.
Somewhere along, It came.
Somewhen, not long: pain.

I knew it at the start.
At the heart.
It comes, now, again:
Pain.

A journey, episodic, growing.
A sojourn, circular, sowing.
Rend my static style.
I don't think I'll be fine for a while.

When you teach me to walk without ground,
Teach me to make a sound:
A glow from the deep
With strength, to keep.

Music in mind, move magnanimous,
mandating my makings.
Feel free to cut out the fakings.

I need some remakings.

5/25/12

She wings up in storm

Look around:
What a fury!
What a blitz!
What bliss!
Listen to thunder pound his fists!

And you:
Calm
Cultivated
Composed
An Artemis child all wild and honed.

Form commanding
Shockwaves down deep
through mortar and mantle to resonate sweet

As a distance grows
,coming faster than the wind,
you fall out of visage

That doesnt' stop the storm
It lulls to requite with emotion bright
Like a low-laying sun
 Almost done.

It sings,
Calling like a beacon
of Languishing dissonance.

To you:

To You: The stars. The ones that don't shine in your eyes.
To You: The sea. The part that doesn't live in your voice.
To You: The rain. Whatever drop remaining outside your heart.
To You: The sun. The rays you forgot to radiate.

And To You: myself.
Though, I think you already have all of that.

5/21/12

Star Shower


Bomarded
A pure projectile empowered
Grafted, twisted worlds
Silver-lined windows to strange realms
They perforate a sitting mind
Leave it starstruck.
For:
They can't be controlled
They can't be utilized
They can't be understood
They can't be touched.
So:
Let them burn
Watch them light up
The most harmonious of starshowers
Burning worlds lighting dark sky

5/11/12

Shade


For a flash
Reflecting outside the glass
In the dark
It slips in.

A moment drips
Staring blankly
Ignoring detail
When it forms out.

Lenses dial in.
The form shrugs back.
It almost fades
Into the black

A beat
The reflection steps forward,
Appauled with its intruder,
Sizing up his counterpart.

He looks to his side
He finds what he does not possess
for he fades all too quickly.

Like a small sun imploding
He shines out with dismay,
And is promptly smothered,
Much too painful to think about.

5/6/12

Rain


rain, rain, go away,
I once have heard a sad soul say.
do they know what the rain does for you?
those little raindrops coming down like blue.
pelting the earth, making it thin and flat.
I could live on an earth like that.

in the yard, right next to the stoop,
the garden sentinels do droop.
rain bends the sense, bends the heart,
so now that statue's stand is art.
how could one see the rain as amiss
no.
I would love to live in a world like this.

5/4/12

Severity


I see them every day.
Their smiles radiate
but stone skin insulates

I didn't deserve it
It's for them, not me
From day one they told me:
This world is not for you.

Don't let this first tear fall,
without cutting out my cares
and leaving a heart wound
bleeding out my severity.

5/3/12

Dog

They treat me like dog.
I see it.
I see it in eyes and lips and body.
They think with little looks and giggles
that I do not see them,
but it make not one of different color.

It treat me like dog,
the world,
but who said a dog did not live a better life.
Who said dog not find wife
Find joy
Find love

For in dogged brain of me
Fishies swim in open stream
Golden Stream, of mercury
While gold and mercury not similar in feel
Dog brain make it real.
That worth a bottlecap of drink
No? It worth something, I think.

Something. A little old.

Last year I couldn't write.
Last year I couldn't type.
My hopes were down,
and with an agitated frown,
I failed to make things light.

This year I think is better.
This year is much more fun
I've made myself a go-getter.
But I still need more time in the sun.


Strength comes in many forms, each requiring their own faction of pain.
But the muscles can learn to work together, Letting their strengths fill others' strain.

Rime


Blossoms frozen over
Hard ground
Tough to touch
Rough to feel
Yett, ensprouted vines, shrouded in bushels of hardy grass
They pull something out of such torn earth.
They tangle up and out
They Ripen to a crest of leaves
At a crest of rosy crimson and silver
--Taking a peek o'er the peak
Diminuative sprites: Ashtolomer, and Synet.
They seat themselves to see their partner
Until a time of chime and sunshine
Where they wish to fullfill
For now, it satisfies to simply entreat
A frozen globe, Enwrapped in time.
Warm within, old housing of Djinn.
A Hope-dance, Ignorant of Rime.

Games poems essays.

    When I read poems and I write poems, I categorize them. It began in Language and Composition. After writing an essay, our teacher pointed out to half the class that their main fault there in was a tone of prescriptive writing. Implementing should's and would's gave the whole piece a forward expectant lean; the writer proposed change like a doctor. He then went on to say that the entire point of this essay prompt was for descriptive, prospective writing. He intended us to look at the here and now, and to explain and analyze and discuss this topic.
     I never forgot this lesson. It opened up a whole new way of looking at the world, muchly similar to my revelation into the meanings of Subjective and Objective. Mostly though, it turned up in the worlds outside. It colored my poetry and the poetry of others with names. I began searching and diving through this new hole I had ripped. I found more aspects of directive tone(as I call it). I picked up words like Prospective, Descriptive, and Direct,, and started applying them to Poetry.
     This became quite worrisome as I mused on others' pieces. Each work seemed trapped in this half world in between all these terms. They don't cut and decipher like an essay, but they neglect the true flow, ambiguity, and metaphor of poetry. This Direct poetry doesn't suit me. It doesn't cut it. It fails my expectations and brings me no joy to read. I've therefore begun to examine poetry, uncontrollably, on this scale--in this spectrum. Does the poem leave options for others? Does the poem try to say one thing? As I asked these questions, I realized that a No automatically relegated the poem to misery.

     Whether I know what poetry specifically does or not, I know that, like a question, if the poem reads to point at one thing, it doesn't suit me, and better the words go towards an essay than a mock art piece.

5/2/12

Child of Asymmetry

In spindle's jungle, a darter Breathes
Racing from tree to tree, it seethes.
It whispers with him, older than sound:
"set fire to towns
purify the grounds"
The child of asymmetry

Spindle, to peak mountains found
Weaves nets for catching the unbound
They catch the air
Where the child, once there,
runs, breaking through
Flies, speeding true.

now up to a pace the child approves
like a heart-healing sin
the flurry of unbroken east
the burning of a freedom beast

Personal Demons


Forms of placid alarming white
fingers long and thin
hunched backs for dodging and reeling
blood spatters their maniacal grin

As swift as a shadow
and as sharp as a knife
Demons of fear
ready to take a life

When the last chime is heard
and lightening flashes
a message scratched on the wall
leaving blood red gashes

Without reading, it means
Something of ill disposition
"We are everywhere" they say
Tormenting me in my superstition

My personal demons
My unwelcome entourage
Keeping me awake
in subtle espionage




 I wrote this because last night I had an image come up in my dream. It happened in an instant, and I couldn't fall back to sleep. I had this overwhelming sensation that these things that I saw were still there. Not in the room or even in reality, but in my dreams--In the darkest recessess of my mind lies a fearful aspect that I don't know what to do with--I eventually had to imagine people were there with me so that I could fall asleep.
This is the first dream I have remembered since I was nine. I wish I hadn't.

4/29/12

Gestalten


A mist of old memories hangs on this morn.
Twitching at intervals of recourse.
While Stunned, static, silhouettes
Coalesce into forms.

I know now of you, what you mean.
Come now, delight here.
For animated gloom
Lurks here like an open dream.

And they, in dance about me, I count off:
Viper, tennis, capitol, blue.
Harbinger, aspen tree, candle, food.
After time, all appear, but they dance off.

Not one sip of your soul have I drunk
I hear nothing--Dead silence
in the midst of this junk

Though reason tell me: Rhapsody
I feel wrought in doubting thought.
Where does the sea eventually take me?
For I fear I've gotten lost.

4/28/12

The fellow

   Hallo, This here is a fellow who loves poetry. He writes it, and he reads it. The soul importance and intention for this blog will be to showcase and discuss poetry. Nothing else. He even goes so far as to post a piece of poetry before even a welcome post.

Good day,
Fellow

Cold words


Them together
I see the look on her face
It feels cold
like the smile appears for lack of a better reaction
To a cold happiness

It draws me in for a moment
It pulls me away
Disgusting
Too weak to look away
She looks. So. Hungry.

The words that drop out of their mouths
They don't even have their decency
They pull their drawers up
They yawn, take a sec, and carry out their business
They arrive too late with their package
Fresh roses wasted

I don't want to fix this
I know it doesn't work that way
I just never want to see it again
I never want to feel that cold

that pain.