31: I love you and your high expectations

Just a fad, questionable diets.
Children's playthings.
Faux melodic woos and harmonic "Heys!"
As he's strumming away through chords of wisdom,
you're breaking mirrors
upon mirrors of art.

Never be good enough,
nor will your dignity prove that.
Mistakes buried underground-- withhold the breath.

30: M.N.

"roll the dice," says mother nature
and with it, all highlights of various depictions of our
creative apocalypse,
too distant to be taken seriously.

Ravaging sea water
rapes the land that forgives it
like clearing the canvas
with toxicity,
drowning mistakes by making a few more.

This is how renewal celebrates.
The ones left over fend for themselves,
while savaging deeds reciprocate.

don't we get it, yet?
we had this coming!

29: lifted

The impulse of the curses of joy.
Pill-formed happiness; mainstream ecstacy.

Profoundly animated/imagined dream
made real to life for those who fake it. And they made it.

The campaign slogan is a song fit for a drink.
Entice us to join him in romanticized glory, hated and thirsty.
Hold his hand, and you'll hold mine. Hang on tight.

28: pocketed

Nihilistic ego hard-ons
accessorized faith
the green from their pockets
leading them in.
Fictional books
make fictional buildings for us to live in

and there's
not much left to bear from it.

27: I want to invite you

The past is fostered: An abortion of thoughts,
enigma, feelings, smoke.
Every dig of the way,
your ideals draw nearer. And mine become farther away.

26: cancellation theme

hanging hopes, suspended, mid-air
collisions in what was meant to be-
let's meet, love, in its last few days.
Cordless invitation: you bring the wine, we bring the bottle.

25: a gathering of all gatherings

The collection of ghosts
and their nightly meetings
with talks of philosophy drawn outdoors to dry
with the other thoughts
dripping of recycled pretension -
the cannibals are feasting
on this picnic of talk.
Finding out who's the weakest
then, having been fought,
ranked themselves highly on society's scale.

24: Cubic Cull

office politics: "Hear Me"
yell the suits from the streets. From the
ties to the cases. Crisp folded twenties.
Did those pinstripes shriek as the deal closed in?

well, the brushes are handed,
the paint's dripping through.
the masterpiece ruined, happens everyday.
"Good game," they lie -
they smirk,
they sigh.

23: metal medals

for the golden truth to be awarded.
Special effects, static transmission - all just minor distraction
until the time sweeps by
and takes the dust
off our weary face and shoes.
Perspective's lost in our hide-and-seek game
but noone's bothered to find it.
The scale of things
grow eventually smaller
while the finishing line is crossed only for a moment,
that flashing moment where statements are proclaimed.
One last look at the days that rolled by.
our living soap opera
that never ceased.

The knowing of what happens
in a subtle joke.
we live for today, tomorrow will dwell.
Our bodies buried, our souls to sell.

22: And When He Saw

A rush entangled; waiting for spiders to feed
gratefully escaped, for now. Good causes, albeit unknowingly.
The charity was all the same.

something special exchanged - not physical.
there was a hunt for the perfect gift.
the perfect prey
to feast another upon.
good for us all,
but truly only given to another.

21: pay role

Company fallacy forgiven
taken as an accepted fact -
the saddening belief of the inevitable.
it grows on us slowly
like an ivy's poisonous hug
'round that place we all call home.
we forgive them every day
as god would bitterly
do to us.

20: retour

The return of my full-fledged
inexperience. Oh, shapeshifter city,
these morphing families,
these days where you
exchange your souls for another.

Instead, the ignorance rushes back
to me and stays, desensitized by gentrified waves,
unphased by our beginning.

It's possible to achieve this height
of high anonymity.
on and on
I climb the ladder
to disappear completely.

19: Tides and tides

Attacking, pouring in
like a lakeside of enemies.
Invasion of privacy and personal space
yet - you withstand it -
in the valiant mix of noise, those splashes of ambiguity.

Don't forget the heart, leave it buried.
Exposed to the world and the meaningless statement
that everyone's done.
Pretend to brush it off and re-gift it to listeners.
Rejoice - you've all been had.

18: Floored

As if nothing happened; nothing disturbed.
ignorance reverbed and the answer of awkwardness
like silent conversations
and then after - infinite nothing.
By the stroke of the clock,
never met, never talked.
Never saw, never knew.
The vision's askew.

Perhaps all these years of costumed ideas
were dressed up a little too much.
Void of real and raw solutions
like integrity sliced
in half, crushed, and taken.

17: Tonight

Beware the lair of the talk show host
their wit's not dry,
absent and replaced with snappy replies
biting off the end of your
sentence

16: The Reeling

mainstream force-fed
monopoly-seekers. "musical" convulsions.
that's why every once in a while
a blue moon dances overhead
as another great dream
of raw, inspired talent
steals the sun - from those who see it.

15: WSX

exchange of the words, guns traded at battle.
aim for the fire - "I'm shot, I'm down!"
Don't look at me further, move along, move along.
No use staring at the deadness of dawn. Retaliate,
your turn.
The corner keeps me warm.
You're winning 'cause I let you, free will obliges you.

But we both long for the future
and our downtrodden days,go on unphased with those wooden smils.
What boils underneath should never be revealed
Never will we erupt again,
until all wounds have healed.

14: Be Sharp

Poisonous butterflies hopped up on acid
-- that is hate.
it's just a matter of when. in the face of the grim.
covered in sins, a dusting of lewdness.
unapologetic, gall of us each and the other.

13: the chair

the big screen directs our small screen lives.
manipulating images and ideas, metamorphosis of the mind
visually appealing.
richly animated.
falsified people, WE CONNECT WITH YOU.

but for a second, looking at those beautiful faces
that kill themselves
on-screen. That cry and weep and die for each other,
The Drama Queens.
could you wish to do the same?

no one admits it, but we sometimes feel the itch to
let ourselves fly - to do the impossible.

12: it's the suit that makes the man

Walk with purpose and meaning.
Heart beats in the financial district,
heart racing for that feeling. What is it?
The sound of that which affords them Life, As Printed
in That Magazine.
Lunch powers dismay the simple pleasers, here is your
coffee on the rocks.

11: wipe the dust

We're taking a trip to a desolate wasteland,
our ambience won't be disturbed. Listen to doves
as the morning rises, the radio head's playing
While the evening dies.
Summer out but hearing these tunes
changes the scene, buckle up for the ride.

like that girl who thought she
could impress everyone
by proclaiming that one album
she would love to die through...

10: Admit One

"The squirrels who took every extra-curricular
activity so that some college admissions
officer wouldn't believe
how they'd actually spent their
time drinking wine coolers
during study hall."

I couldn't have said it better myself,
He said it so perfectly,
I wondered why.
Then I realized
he's a comedian.

9: televisio

Lights,
camera,
Siren.

Darkness-streetlights-neon signs drilled into sky
And then the redblueredblueredblue of the uniforms,
Oh, they speed as much as us. They like to trail,
We like to hear the rush like acid through our veins
(Hey, we need that hit again)
It roars against the asphalt and I can smell the sin
It smells like gasoline and desperation
Hear the copters loving the infrared thrill,
Until we step out of the vehicle,
Hands up, roll the tape,
The lenses out, they do record
And film us as they end our trek,
And we smile at the cameras.

8: Grid-Light

A shot of darkness, the power sleeps
like standstill summer tides.
Stealing the lights away-
Candlelight finds shadows never present
in fluorescent light.

7: The Upper-Middle Class Dream

Doctoral prestige: Pride, money, respect.
Status, class, homes
(in the good part of town)
To be revered, picture photo frames
of Their joy; not his. But he smiles into an empty wall,
Thinks nothing of what's been done.

6: Within

It never occurred to me
that this was what families do.
This is what is made
and what becomes of -

What is created by us and ourselves,
Supported, unselfish and back-breaking.

But if you don't have The Instinct,
Why do that?

5: Her Ode

Ennui is her groom, tuxedo-fitted, tailored,
Self-fulfilling prophecy made true. The altar
sinks from all these heavy thoughts, weigh down the air
As guests sit in the stifling room
Make calculations between themselves and I,
We bet on the results of months of dinner parties,
Cocktail dreams and poolside eats
Gatherings and followings,
Trips to far-off islands to invest their time
in What Should Be. Seems like the veil was never taken off.
But he, he did.
Years of being - statistical wreckage. We witnessed it,
and still we looked away.

4: CD

Get my headphones on like a passport
to heaven and its wonderwall --
(The arcade's fire is burning all night long.)
For it's better this way - straight to the source.
When it's personal and you hear the voice.
The radio's head is mixing my messages,
breaking my social scene
They are history now so let's make it classic
and that's how it is
and how it will be.

3: πλαστικός

Floating, corpse-like living
in the crisp summer tide. Corals sharp enough to bite.
And in the azure-pacific haze, the salt dawns upon our eyes:
The surgeon resurrection. They do revive
the dead and dying souls, invigorate old decay,
With the sheen of tired youth hidden/stretched
Bask in the artificial glow. Already hear the cameras flashing,
So put on your face, curtains drawn, and welcome to the show.

2: Air France

leave it up to the experts
behind the machine
wielding thoughts of erotica
advertising shampoo scenes
cos yeah - I see that
a plane crashed today




"It's a miracle flight,
number three fifty-eight."
and we're thankful and all
though for a minute
we hoped -- sort of -- for the usual ending
So we could Remember The Day When...?

but
there was nothing. Only flames and smoke
and traffic jams along the way.

1: Industry, industry

The late night brings productivity
and with it, buggy eyes for the next morning after.
How difficult it is to stride towards slumber,
Wrap myself in cotton, synthetic fibres brush against my skin
And the moon makes its rounds
Orbits slave-like, bounded path it weaves
Like a drone, borrowed light created
Supplying our demand, continues forward into
the soundless, starry, night.