Wandering In The Cross-Town (Mental) Traffic

Picture this: A Synopsis (AN unspooling)

melting into the sea
sightless ego made of sand, revealed
not as strong or mad, or ego-free
as I thought I would be...

why am I so angry. so easily bothered/ upset?

Roaming the country side asleep on a dead horse / tethered.  Haunted by witches, still.

getting/moving/seeing/seething/pleading/eyes/distracted

moneyed/cruel/tools/sales/veils/nails/rails/pale/white/whale

first drawing. in a while. did I break myself?

I feel talented and stupid. The boredom of too tightly a repeating pattern enrages me. Co-workers seem to like me. But they also cry to me and naturally deputize me for things because of my age. I am now one of the old guys where I work. There are only two people older. They don't know any of the bands that mean anything to me, even though the music plays on the radio throughout the day. They don't understand why I know all their bands too. People don't try very hard to find out anything anymore. They huff and puff their way out of the simplest tasks. Also: Get off my lawn.
















Even on my best days, I do not feel like I fit anywhere right now.  Nathaniel makes it seem so easy.

In some ways I feel like a turntable which has reached the end of the record and is just going around the last groove because the return arm is malfunctioning in their working life. The balance of personal projects and professional life seems dauntingly cyclical. Actual praise seems weird and foreign. People so kind and present sound like background noise to the din of angry hateful voices not getting what they want no matter how many organs I offer up for sale. I realized why I hatred retail too many months ago to sound pathetic anymore. Money craziness. Work imbalance. A certain deadening that creeps in with the realization there is no getting off the treadmill at all costs.

I feel genuinely frayed most days. Predominantly inadequate on a number of levels. Feeling challenged on the things I feel skilled at. Everyone else is taking so much, the well is dry when I dare to look. But so much beauty....and potential. Hang in there, Steve. Hang in there.

Just passing through 'till we reach the next phase / the futures changed / perceptions all been erased

Shootings, Dollar and day-lates, some poetry (after a spell.)

flying cars,
shooting stars?
they're all secrets
we still can't see.

Don't want to talk of the
divided states,
insurance rates,
all of us tossed
to the fates.

the paradigm is smoothly polished,
engrained in the strains
of our dark undergrowth,
apron strings which act
as strangler figs
close out the last of
the light and the fight
(of blue eyes, stale pints
 Irish jigs and queer delights).

Things are perhaps fucked up
and slightly perfect in their own ways,
being used for that which they were designed
to misalign the patterns of the spring.

Lights on strings, hewn logs in a straight line
dances with in lux and stretches away from the trees
like a darkness out here, it goes for miles
from the warm reds of autumn to
the sunburst finish.

Frightened again by a new day
wheels spinning but faster and in less control
despite the centrifugal forces pushing
down the weight of the wet clay
From Brilliant and perfect
to broken and chaos and disorder
and down it all rains.

scared and skipped and tripped up, careless.
my courage fails, sails, nails it down,
yet is full of fear.

You cannot forget
how we captured it.
your head spins
the day we met
don't stop talking about chance.

Now it is so,
we know secrets.
as cars shoot by
we fly by stars.

Unfinished Thoughts / July Something or Other

the day was too long.

I was too complicated.

Torn a little lately.

I am good. I am working hard.

Modern life interferes with whatever it is I am working on...

and I cannot. Let go. Let go of my ego.

------

the court case rings in my ears and my sensibilities.

I do not think I am comfortable doing jury duty again.

I let an insane woman attack a innocent intoxicated woman and walk away.

She laughed in court when identified by her attacker.

She was captured on tape beating a nurse walking home from a bar.
while walking her dog.

While walking her dog, whose leash she grabbed first BEFORE hitting the victim.

Yes. on tape.

But a motherfucking preponderance of the evidence, seeds of doubt planted by a skilled scumbag public defense attorney and bunch of legal mumbo-jumbo and she's let go on a technicality.

KaRMA REPAYS all those who are banished from the reality palace.

-----

Also a big fuck you to Paul Dilly-dally
and his boastful post-fifty bedpost notching while discussing
LAME sexual encounters.

A Total Pig Paul? YOU WERE FUCKING ASLEEP!!!

SNOORING!

Seriously eat a fucking bag of old dicks. You were asleep at the fucking trough. You're pretending to be gorging from the well while you skim the surface and feign stinky mystery. Meanwhile Bob and I have gone so far down the same rabbit hole no one else have ever been where we are with each other or ourselves. And you? You're skipping stones over a cold dead lake hopping to strike lightning.

And he was a Pig in bed? I pity your lack of achievement Paul.

Really.

------

Music continues to heal me. We have not given up on each other.

<3 bob.="" p="" to="">

Selfie Ghoul / Time Off / I Still Can

4 AM / No Sleep / AS / In Passing We Grow Older Everyday / Always

Add caption

The Last Two Months / Music, Art and Whatthefuckery

*Busy Signal* / Prospect of Sound / Scent of a Sunset

I'm not asking for more now.

Whew, this last year. Barely any blog posts. total life shift. The dog's bollocks. Doing a lot of barking but taking a break from my creativity to make money. How does one do both again? derailed, curtain -called and hard to do without a sense of reason.

Cut to the heart of pain / I just do the same again

Tough middle age bitch, but I demure

from stiff upper lip to angle-poise grace,
 I step away,

    guided. IN the evening air, lost in space.

the noise, the (lack of) art

 sprinting, sleeping, spluttering, suggesting, subjugating,

    not sold separately, irreprepablytrembleylatelyshankly.

  but all is cast off before the fire

 before old flames die

and your mother poisons

   the apple pie
  (the palace is still part of a silver age)*

*Your son and the moon.