A Dadaist concept
Of a ti-82
Floats behind my sclera.
The insomniac’s struggles
As evening approaches
Are overtaken by my autonomicals.
Dark comforts,
The birds take their jurist roles,
As I break and nap.
Waking minutes later
To the benzocaine burn
Of my freshly numbed cold sore.
I tap my feet,
Fantasizing in the surreal,
Wanting to create.
In this meditative state,
I realize the next step is coming,
And I must take its course.
In case you didn’t know, I was in the Marine Corps for about two years before I was separated for Medical reasons. I served as a 4341, Combat Correspondent. Needless to say, I took quite a few cool pictures during that time. Here’s one to start off the day! Good morning and Semper Fidelis
Lack of Rest,
Lack of Food,
You are killing me.
At least I’m bigger,
What a waste,
He begs for Vegas.
Dear John,
I’ve seen the rain,
Too much, perhaps.
At first, it calms,
But I miss the stars.
Nothing worse than a black sky.
On those nights I think.
I write, I paint.
But I don’t sleep.
Eventually the black turns grey,
As my part of earth
Turns towards the sun once again.
That’s when I go out
For my morning cigarette,
And see the worms haven’t slept either.
I rarely give them thought.
Dodging them on the asphalt,
Keeping my bare feet clean.
They saw the rain,
And lost everything,
And I give them no thought.
Oh, John.
Have you seen the rain?
Grass turned to mud?
I think you have,
But you watch the fresh grass grow.
You look at the clearing and the humid sun.
You light your cigarette,
And dodge the worms,
Giving them no thought.
You smile at the new day,
While I’m stuck in the storm.
I envy you.
Though my fallen bride lies fallen
The Lord won’t have me.
Revenge instead of repentance,
Her tomb will taste His own’s blood.
I feel like making something, so, whoever comments on this will get a custom post card mailed to them. I’ll make a max of 5. Comment on this and email me an address at dcidcorvid@yahoo.com and I will have your post card in the mail this week.
Went to a bar tonight, the Garry Owen’s in Gettysburg. It’s a favorite of mine, I can’t recommend it enough. The bartender tonight was a gent named Matt. He provided fast and friendly drinks, and I left feeling quite a bit happier and a little bit more buzzed than I was when I went in. Thanks Matt.
Picture is a doodle while at the bar.
Not that that has any real influence on this post. However, I do look forward to playing it, seeing what all the hype was about
My Kevlar sweetheart,
My violent angel,
Let us go together,
And fuck peace.
Take my hand and watch as I do,
See the fear my name invokes,
The shaking heads,
My bloody hands.
Let us go together
Into the void of inhumanity,
Embrace your base drives,
And tear a fool’s throat open.
We say no to sacrificial guilt.
My love,
Let us walk the juxtaposition,
We’ll live as they die.
Your hands are trembling, dear.
Do not let them see your fear.
The weak feed off the excess of the strong,
Starve them with your bravery.
I’ll be here to the end.
I’ll support your stride,
And stem your blood loss.
So what if tomorrow never comes?
I have you now.
An old bitter poem and a new burnt out drawing dood
Is a correlation a connection?
Can my loss of you,
Be the reason I lose now?
Is the fact I lost the one I loved,
What warped me to hate everyone else?
I don’t know,
Probably never will.
I have blood on my hands,
And for now,
I’ll blame it on you.
Two dimensional reality
An opiate’s purr
Sinking, he whispers in my ear.
“(heavy breathing)”
Pinpoints point
Some Chords burrrrrr.
Time to be an artist.
Dcid Corvid 