i left my heart in san fransisco

I feel stifled. I hate it here, but it holds my heart. this is where i learned to love, but then i became alive. It's bitter sweet, longing for the love, yet loving where i'm living, it's so unfair. you're too far away, my heart beats and grows and bursts when i see you. but it's stifiling and aimless. no direction, we all float on. And when i leave i can't breath for the way my heart is pounding in my throat and clogging my airways. but for the very life of me I can't go back. i was dying inside now i am alive. and I don't know how to do it another way! you're the dust on my feet and it chokes me. and it's on purpose, the distanced the miles, the space. I need it like I need to see you, like the way that you being here makes me alive and makes me want to live. and I miss you. and i'm annoyed that i'm so adored, that I don't want to leave, and could never really stay.

Come on people now, smile on your brother, everybody get together, try to love one another right now.

Life is about loving people and free coffee from gas stations.
People love free stuff, but we don't like things that are worthless. It should cost something, but it doesn't is drastically different than it isn't worth anything. There is no free lunch. Everything has a price. You can choose whatever you want.


Vices are just like gremlins.
Even with good intentions
they turn into something willful and destructive.
Just because life's a bitch,
doesn't mean we have to stop living it.
Accept where you are at or die trying.
There are lots of ways to die,
And there are lots of kinds of death.

What will I do once I find the meaning of life?
Do I get a prize?
Is there something tangible?
The joy of achieving?
Even if I found it 10 other people would think they could do it better.
Let em try.

The Sky is falling.

Another day, another dollar, another death threat.
I’m exhausted from pondering, love, God and a good sex life.
Why my day goes to shit when I have a bad hair day.
Am I really that vain? Yep. Really I am.
Sorry world peace, my hair is more important.
World peace is such a bitch. I hate it when my shit isn’t as
Important as the local headlines.
Is it so wrong to want to bring peace to my world?
Doesn’t it all start with me?
An army of 1.
I wage war against myself
And there is no body to maintain the peace keeping efforts.
We’re a land of beatniks, free love and self actuliaztion.
That’s what got us into this trouble to begin with.
Love the one your with, until you realize they don’t love you back.
I didn’t see that one coming. Again.
I hate it when attraction outweighs good intentions
It would be nice if synergy was real.
And everyone would work together for one cause.
Like keeping me from dating another musician?
But no. My angst takes back burner to
Dirty water, AIDS and assholes.
Sorry broken hearts and hurting people of the world
Didn’t you realize I was busy over analyzing life?

I'm somewhere where I don't know where I am

i hate running. trying to figure out life, love, and sex.. i'm l0st and i don't know what to do about it. i want things different don't know how to do that.  to fake it. do i have to get it right first? i don't believe that. i don't think that's the character of God. he doesn't make me jump through hoops that's not him.  i feel so alive when i'm worshiping . i love you and i can see how you work and you love but then when i'm here and now and  miserable and doesn't make sense. it's like sometimes i see it in my life. you're not a tease but the very thing you want me to trust you for is the thing that gives me the most doubts. it pisses me off. i don't know how to deal with this. i know it's mot always sunny but i'm so tired of dealing with this i feel like i've given it up like 390 times and it still plagues me. it works for other people. why?  why can't this work for me, i don't get it? can't i be miserable with everyone else? tell me i don't know what i believe and i don't know why i believe it

Everyone has a fishing boat

Everyone in PDX has a fishing boat. and you're not cool unless you do. it's like that scene in Billy Madison where the kid pees his pants.  Peeing your pants is the coolest, you're not cool unless you pee your pants.  Nobody just is.  It's like everyone is sunbathing for skin cancer.  perverts for peace. etc.. etc... I don't think it's bad, but I do think it's interesting.  Working down town I get pan handled roughly 1 million times a day. it hurts my heart, that people are hungry and don't have enough. it's overwhelming. I always wants to do something, but honestly half the time end up feeling like I gave at the office.  Sometimes when I come home from work,  I don't want to be sad or stressed anymore, I already did that today.  It's been weighing me down a little. I have such an emotional response to this yet  not really a clear vision of what my role is in it.  I hear so many people talking about events that they're organizing, things they're doing etc... I love that my friends have a heart for people.  i'm glad they're not all bastard coated bastards with bastard filling. that would be pretty depressing. But what kind of kicks ass about this, is that I realized what my role is. So the next time you're out Hunting for Hepatitis I could be a part of that.

Biology is a bitch

I’m seeping sex. Damn pheromones. Feminine wiles can take a while to catch up to you. Venus Di Milo is my hero, minus the seaweed.  She’s got it going on, since she’s got no arms And is still ok with public nudity. But that makes sense  Because there are lots of kinds of naked. This is the good kind. Where your hips sway to the staccato cadence. From step to strut. Confident and naked.

2007 Ode To Mucus - Apparently I deal with illness by writing it love poems.

In the morning before i look in the mirror
I'm waiting, wondering when you'll appear
But then it's there, the time is right
I can feel your presence before i turn on the light

I sit up in bed my breath grows shallow
Throat constricted I can hardly swallow
My lungs are tight i rasp and wheeze
But then you're there and i can barely breath

Mucus, Mucus every day
You know you take my breath away
Mucus Mucus every night
You know your timing just ain't right

Gag and cough each time I sneeze
I have fever of 100 degrees
You hold my lungs in your iron grip
My body aches from head to hip

Why oh why don't  you  back off?
Why do you have to make me cough?
With each and every  mucus bubble
My hate for you grows double

Mucus, Mucus every day
You know you take my breath away
Mucus Mucus every night
You know your timing just ain't right

I wish you'd put my mind at ease
So I will not be diseased
Now it's time you have to go
Why you stayed I'll never know

You must go and not come back
You make me feel like I'm on crack
Branch out and find somebody new
Cause I'm not the one for you.

No I'm not the one for youMucus, Mucus every day
You know you take my breath away
Mucus Mucus every night
You know your timing just ain't right

No I'm not the one for you

Argh

Asshole, oh my soul,  i'll have you know i need instant gratification.   Omniscient would be nice, but there is a cost to knowing everything.  My weekly wilted,  life's a bit tilted and I really need to pee.

The meaning of life

It would be great to write something really Kerouacesk about how we need to enjoy the journey and take life one day at a time. Make our own clothes and live off the land, enjoy just being. that sounds like a way better answer then not being tied to the end result of any given situation.  Am I truly just in this for the outcomes?  Taking the MAX? yes. Watching a movie? No. It varies. somethings are about the result some things are about the journey.  I tend to be results driven,  maybe it's just a way to justify my own actions. Who knows.  I think it feels like I should put my energy into being a better person.  This made more sense when i was riding the MAX.

Wicks and stick and sealing wax, cabbages and kings

I hurt my toe carrying down a piece of plywood, that still isn't as good at a box spring. damn it Jim. I'm a man not a machine, except that I'm a woman. hear me roar. take that tiger. I'm not used to heavy lifting. I've been spoiled. I'm not handy. Not in the least.  I do not have a mechanical mind. Maybe body mechanics. I like that.  I like knowing how your brain works and chemical reactions.  Some chemical reactions more then others. Wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more. Man I love Monty Python.  Yet I digress.  I'm too pretty to do manual labor. At least that's what I keep telling myself and I think that my mom would agree with me. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.  But not around my mom, she might just do it.  She smokes a corn cob pipe, that's how she gave up cigarettes.  How many other people can say their mom smokes a corn cob pipe? huh? huh? Bueller? Bueller? Exactly.  But as I was saying, I'm not a wilting flower, but I can't complain about the previous system of oil changes and  handiness that was allocated in my favor.  I don't want to be spoiled or dependent, that sounds pretty lame.  I'm pretty crafty.......but handy, that's a different story.

Faux

Botox, detox,cement blocks.. Everybody get up on your box and scream as loud as you can. Driving and striving to make sure you’re the only voice that’s heard. We’re all rugged individuals, trying to pay the heating bills, get up every body and be.




 I might actually seek out a beat for this one.

Ode to Spring Fever

Roses are red
Spring is my rhyme
Good thing it’s March
Or it’d be the wrong time.
You can tell by the way
Some people get antsy
How their thoughts of “like”
Now turn to fancy.
But it’s not for naught
It’s just part of the order
Men get more chivalrous
Short skirts will get shorter
But it’s all sadly false
There’s cold to be had
Your bones will still ache
Just ask your dad.
He watches the weather
And calls to give word
It’s snowing in Alaska
Haven’t you heard?
But pay no attention
To that mere distraction
We’re talking of Spring time
Lust and attraction.
Remember back when
“They” caught your eye
You thought it was love,
But it’s really a stye.
How you long for a fix
A treatment, a cure!
Some secret weapon
To use as a lure.
Please just be patient
Don’t start your groanin
Remember how Leno
Won over Connan?
Now that’s a sad story
A very sad song
Much like your grandma
Dressed in a thong.
So back to my point
This Spring Fever pickle
Love is quite strange, threatening and fickle
So when it comes time
And you are all flustered
Just remember the seasons
And please pass the mustard.

Repression

I need a little release, but can’t seem to find the grease that will make the words flow and put digression to my repression so the roses aren’t red. That’s just a clever endeavor to put words on page, not subside the rage, that keeps me out of fine print. I don’t know where to begin. With original sin? Or just the context of this present perversion? I’ve got the words to retort, but can’t seem to pop the cork that releases my inner word smith.

Center of Attention

Do I love you? Or love what you do for me? Thanks Toyota, a metaphor for life should always be catchy, easily remembered and pulled up to quip pithy wisdom at intellectuals while you’re drinking crappy coffee from the evil empire. Autonomy is so much easier. This constant weighing of good vs evil is exhausting and over wrought. Things would be easier if I were some store bought drone, wind me up, send me out the door. Hello I’m on auto pilot. Boring. Ticky Tacky. Is autonomy really autonomious? Free will, pays the bills, but it leaves me grasping and red eyed. My brain hurts. My heart hurts and that rhymes with brawtwurst. Who couldn’t go for a sausage right now? That’ what she said. Wait. Shouldn’t this poem be about world peace? Or is it just about my world in pieces? If the world isn’t round how is it going to revolve around me? I recycle. Save the animals. The stupid squirrels are dying off. You could learn a lot from a dummy. Maybe you should just try a little harder. I’m the apple of my own eye. I’m just trying to get my stride right, fall into step, without tripping or running any stop signs. Sorry pedestrians. I’m well intentioned. I want a cause that’s not about me. I hate it that people are hungry. I’d like to teach the world to sing, but then I want to make them dinner. Only you can prevent forest fires, so I suggest you start now.

Core

I’m Cole Porter in panties. Really this should rhyme then I’d be hip and everyone would understand that I’m a bad ass and I’ll fight for my right to party. I can advocate for others with a beer in my hand it’s what I do best, despite the alcohol poisoning. I’ll do my best to commiserate, the fate of those too little too late. It was a good go, till I lose the beat, then I have to keep my social rebellion low key, and cauterize my bleeding heart, so that it doesn’t fall out. Intellect is my aphrodisiac, the clever art of seduction, serves it’s function, since brains are sexual organ. Pulsating, pounding, expounding to the brink. Ecstatic. Mentally, physically, deplete. Sometimes semen really upsets my stomach, that makes it hard to go with your gut.

Blissful Ignorance

The roses are wrecked
Your perspective is whack
Lower Middle class house wife
all prone for attack
You'll fight for oppression, injustice and pride
Your kids get free lunches, you get a free ride.
Down with the system and health care reform
People helping people? That's not the norm.
You'll take all your hand outs
It's ok for you,
Your husband has a job
You have expensive shoes.
To hell with community
The housewife will cry
I'll live in fear
The rest of you can die.
You don't see all the others
Because you're so entitled, so right
You'll keep being selfish ignoring their plight.
You cover your sins
But point fingers at theirs
American attitude:
It's not me, so who cares?