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Steve Paige Davis

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Not There

did I get on the wrong train
one with a mixed up
destination
the place you want to be
keeps changing
while you learn
to forget
madmen dreams
the familiar face dealing with the same
pains running away
with a song or a note
that's never here or there
rock and roll isn't always
there to save you
in the lowest ebb
of static blistering through
the rashness of decisions in
the dark corners
where mad thoughts laughing back
at me.

What kind of wall did
I ever believe in
that would be made
of nothing?

with each bad decision
some part me
I don't remember
is disintegrating

broken sidewalks
where I paused or stopped
never seemed to lead
me somewhere decent
a descent into recent unhappiness
or something dredged up
from the unrecent past
like a wet coat I can't shrug
nothing works, even drugs

I am so tired... so tired. 

Xmas 1972 - 1976

Xmas 2012 / Animals and Icons

Oceanview in Mendocino

and the love of my life...

Mark, What Hath You Wraught?

What a weekend this has been. Friday night Sheldon started throwing up. First came all he had eaten then bile-by Saturday he hadn't eaten or drank anything for a whole day and what was coming up was like no cat yak I had ever seen and smelled terrible. by the evening he was listless, wobbly and cried if I picked him up. Sunday morning he got worse and I took him into AIMMS on 9th avenue for emergency vet service. 2.5 hours of waiting was hell-and while I was there another woman's cat literally died in the carrier in the waiting room. they ran every test, blood work, x-rays, ultrasounds, put him on an IV, gave him fluids, medication and held him overnight. He improved slightly from the fluid but after calls back and forth and another trip back to Arguello Pet Hospital, it was confirmed that indeed there was a blockage, fluid painfully built up in his system behind it and needed surgery to be removed.

Surgery was Monday but they couldn't fit him in at Arguello so he went back to AIMMS. After a year of steady improvement in the behavior dept now he is handed a life threatening blockage? If I could afford my own place this would have never happened-everyone knows what a neat freak I am. A big fuck you to the slob roommate for leaving bags of trash/recycling in his office overflowing with loose candy wrappers for MONTHS instead of simply taking them down to our recycling bins-which the cat of course eventually explored and, due most likely to Pica, he ate. $5,000+7 car trips across town and three sleepless days later my cat has a 4" suture on his shaved belly, a cone around his neck and a drug habit that would make Lohan blush-and can't jump, clean himself or eat without assistance because of the cone. I can't I remove the cone lest he rip his stitches out.

Disturbance At The Kitty House? And I thought I was going to finish that Dead Can Dance article this weekend? I'm wrecked and its only Tuesday! Oh honey the FUN we have together! its a laugh riot! really....I need a drink!

Still Life With Travel Bar

Looking Past Shadows

Red Sails & Amnesia

No Reach For The Search For Reason / Pumpkins For Halloween Season

close these eyes
all the voices have gone
now liquified
poured in the corner
click to restore order
can't hold my breath
much longer with these burnt hands
switch it off
switch it round
absence of reason won't
bring the nightmare
to a close
just a search for
the broken
pieces, backing up
I stepped on
in the darkness
the incessant weaponless floundering
the star and sinner sand castle place full
of monsters and mobsters and drinkers
being missed
sinister regretful
in some brightness
awakened...

Happy Halloween Despite The Actual Horrors

Running Backwards Into Time

blink
flip
white
there it is images again
again
a hundred thousand images
each one the next one
bursting flip books ripped
old gray ships
falling into the ocean
a hundred thousand images flapping
flaming into the silence like shadows draped over stones
into the distance I'm running
like time melting into
the sea

I Knead You!!

The Ghost In You / The Ghost In Me

Jumping Into Old Hollywood Besieged by Inapproprate Memory

in the first six seconds
they were liquid
dream beings within reasons
on an outcropping
stone altars
the sea.

nether-future
wingless, flightless
gifted.
sifting through morning
ever green fields of overlapping
what no man can ever say
the guitar is packed
and the gang plank sings like a singular smile
I've been nefarious
delirious and nearly dead
when I should have been
some kind of saint
I saw burning buildings
and the wax stains from
ash

were you

in the

white space
as dark as the knight
and the invisible
spaces
where shadows
come to light
chandeliers swinging
like police batons ripping through heads
of heroes spilled on cement
marked out on the
maps of the stars
cloth cut from
old stocks of movie
still-reel dreamers
this hollywood is dead
the music plays
in the cemetary loop
you can't help but hear
during someone else's funeral
what will be your legacy
what will strangers hear in memory
what color will the grass be
when the name they
call belongs to
me.

Silence For The Witches / Madness For The Watchers

Something Beautiful To Chase Away The Blues

Unfinished Symphony (Long Live Starspring)

I have always been one of those people that tried my best to get behind ideas and projects people suggested I get involved with, either because I felt like the idea was good or because the thought of working with somebody I enjoyed spending time with sounded like a good idea. However, I am coming to the conclusion that anytime I put a lot of personal energy behind these types of projects, it seems like when the other people involved eventually lose interest I am stuck holding the bag of unfinished work, or it turns out I have done the bulk of the work myself, even though the idea was to work together. Ever have one of those awkward moments when you find out someone who you thought you trusted was giving you lip service, saying they wanted to involve you in something and then finding out they went ahead and just did whatever they wanted to do, chose not to involve you, not to communicate that they were doing so and left it at that? When asked the situation they just sort of passed the fact off as no big deal? Well, I just had one of those realizations.

Yeah, well maybe from now on you can NOT finish projects on your own.

What I am also noticing is that any time I seem to generate ideas on my own, not only do they get finished(even if they take years to develop) but they get done well-and they keep getting better over time. The bigger question I am wondering about it the why. Why have I wanted to get behind other people's ideas but getting them motivated to understand and believe in mine seems exponentially harder? Thank goodness there are a few people who do support my work and ideas-we just don't work together on things. Why can't I work with THOSE people?

Fuck it. Well thought out projects where I am compensated for the work I do, my interest and time is worth putting in and recognized and appreciated, great, fine-bring it. Other stuff where people seem willy-nilly about commitment-please take that shit elsewhere-I'm not interested in helping you explore whether you want to do this or not until you decide you are bored/too stressed out about your life/etc. I have spent too much time and emotional energy trying to be the 'supportive friend' and I see where that has gotten me-a back story that could have been filled with fabulocity is instead filled with half finished projects and unrealized ideas and ambitions because you were too distracted with your own wants and interests. You seem fine when it comes to pursuing things when you want or need them-so do that on your own.

Return / Re-establish

farewell
to a balloon
I guess
we'll get there
some other time
air pressurized skin
pressed down upon
while aching for grand skies
amber sighs
and platinum waves
purple fading into pink
fading into purple stripes fading
into blue fading
into black fading
into you.

Old War Wounds

she crawls in
an old hole
dug before time
was kept from
ourselves and after we
pretended to
start over again
clock strikes twelve
time to destroy ourselves
sails with tears
plugs in our ears
wings flustered folded inwards
sick flags on cold
rememberance days

history disappears
with each moon
and the barren frosts
eve crept in
and created the
inability to learn
from the distant past
washed up, ground up a
and melted into stasis like PAINed glass
for couture tombs unbuilt monuments of unmovement
left to joyless neglect
rudderless non-care forgotten metropolitan gestures
more exactingly broken out with rocks
by junkies pissing in the rain and cutting out..

there is no intro
the staccato doesn't matter
no flock to scatter at daybreak's welcoming
no waiting for the game to end
for your random turn to send
something away
grab something from a rush and hope that it stays
subject to the whims of the unknown
and whimsy of time
but meant to shine anyway
against a thousand sunsets
already set to fade.