Monthly Archives: June 2012

Everybody Needs Someone To Love

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You may stumble as you walk

and the wind may whip your face

You can’t think of the right thing to say

and so you remain frozen and gray

Somedays you laugh and think it’s not so bad

other times you cry

One thing is for sure

Everybody needs someone to love

You can try to go it alone

and never answer your phone

Walk around dumbfounded

wishing everything were different

If only you were young, tough, handsome and smart

whatever you do one thing holds true

Everybody needs someone to love

You need someone there

Simple and pure

They don’t need to be just right

you may even fight

But everybody needs someone to love

 

Nothing was there

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I snapped a picture of my girlfriend today

and nobody was there

I walked out to the celebration

I had my balloons, I had my silly hat

Nobody was there, anywhere

I tried to call you

I left three messages

I’m still waiting for your reply

I decided to read some of my old journals

but the pages were blank

Nothing was there

I thought I heard birds singing in the trees nearby

Nothing was there

It didn’t help to squint

Nothing was there

Anywhere

Snotty Little Bastards

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Those snotty little bastards

Gather around my door

They make their useless comments

As I pass through their dreary world

Those snotty little bastards

are rude

They have no brains

They clog up the trains

With their backpacks, tattoos, and stupid looking hair

These snotty little bastards are everywhere

They think they’re unique

They shop at boutiques

I wish they’d just fuck off

When I try to find out what’s going on

In this high definition world

Snotty little bastards say it’s no use

You may as well stay home

On Facebook they dwell

They are on every cell

It’s a living hell

What if they held an election and nobody voted?

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What if they held an election and nobody voted?

And nobody went to work?

What if the gangs stopped killing each other?

What if everyone lost their smirk?

What if Jesus returned and nobody cared?

What if everything were shared?

What if Madonna stopped touring

and meth were a thing of the past?

What then? I ask

Would the birds stop their singing?

Would the phones stop ringing?

Would people stop lying?

Would babies stop their crying?

Would I finally give up my act?

If the server went down

You couldn’t get to town

Blank screens throughout the internet

Emptiness filling the streets

What then? I ask

Would we be afraid?

Would we have a parade?

Would it piss us off?

Or would we just take off our clothes

and relax?

Poking Around

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Never know what you might find

Poking around

Might be pretty, could be gross

It might bite, or stick in your throat

Poking around I discovered things

That you might not believe

Tiny little levers that move the universe

Poking around I improvised

Making tools out of tickets

Treasures out of wickets

Poking around I blew my mind

And had to replace the sockets

Poking around is always fun

filling my pockets with gum and soot

Poking around

I just might find the truth

I Dived Right In

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She spread herself wide

inviting me inside

I dived right in

and licked to my heart’s delight

I tried to eat her up complete

although there was no taste

I dived still more

into that damp crevice

You really know what you are doing she said

A brainless, sightless worm

burrowing through her secret passages

to curl up inside her room

I dive right in

This is what I do

The Thing Is (lol)

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The Thing Is

There’s not enough room

For all your dreams and aspirations

Scale it back, be realistic

lol

The Thing Is

Compromise is a part of life

It is what it is

We can’t finish this conversation

I’m dropping out

lol

The Thing Is

There is only so much money

And we don’t have enough for you

Sorry for the inconvenience

We appreciate your understanding

lol

The Thing Is

I thought you knew we were only friends

While we were hanging around

Sorry

lol

The Thing Is

My battery is low

Can’t talk now

Somebody Told Me

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Somebody told me I should just keep quiet

Pull my socks up and lose my blues magoos

There is no use in upsetting the apple cart

There is nothing anyone can do

Somebody told me to just chill out

Follow the instructions and try not to shout

Go about my business with a smile

Somebody told me I should watch my step

I reveal too much and I tend to insult

I better watch my health

Somebody told me to take long walks

and enjoy the sunny weather

Nobody needs to know about those things

Which haunt your tiki hut

Somebody told me to tuck in my shirt

You better get to work

I do so well, I’m well respected

Keep it up though and you’ll be rejected

Somebody said

It’s a Long Long Journey to Your Heart

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The daffodils you planted

Still remain

Swaying in the gentle summer breeze

It’s a long, long journey to your heart

I remember how you smiled

And tried to make it all ok

It’s a long, long journey to your heart

I had a dream one time

I had made my way back home

All the windows were broken

The rooms filled with dust

It’s a long, long journey to your heart

We argued, we fought, we had so much to say

So far away, so very far away

If I could have you back

If I could hold you in my arms

I would be young again

I can almost remember your face

It’s a long, long journey to your heart

And time is drawing short

Soon all will be forgotten

The sun is fading

The crows are cawing

It’s a long, long journey to your heart

 

Sexual Cowardice

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It is curious that on the same morning I posted what I think is a very bold but beautiful poem which successfully joins my poetic and horny selves, there was the news report on Yahoo about the conviction of Sandusky for child molestation. I still assert, with gusto I might add, that sex is not the problem. We need more sex, not less, but it needs to be the right kind of sex. Respectful, joyful, empowering sex, which reminds us of who we truly are, not sex as a weapon, sex as a product, sex as sin.

Once again, sex in all of it’s problematic power, is dealt a setback. The problem here was cowardice. Sandusky lacked the courage to put himself on the line and find sex in a responsible way. Or maybe it wasn’t really about sex at all, but power. Sex was a way for him to feel powerful, having total control over these boy’s lives, possessing their bodies to use as he might. He knew that if he pulled that crap on any adult male he would end up in the hospital, so he preyed on kids. Because he could. Infected with too heavy a dose of freedom, he thought he do whatever he wanted. The normal rules did not apply to him. This kind of thinking lies at the heart of any crime.

But let’s not let this be an indictment of sexual freedom. Those of us who champion a more liberal view of sex are not child molesters. Let’s not push sexual behavior into the darkness. Children need to be educated about sex in a responsible way, a truthful way, and we should leave religion out of it. It angers me to no end when yet another asshole takes something beautiful and ruins it. Thinking only of himself, and too much of a coward to do what he needed to satisfy his needs, in a responsible way. Too afraid of rejection. Why risk rejection when you can force yourself on someone weaker than you? People in positions of power who use that position to dominate and hurt others deserve what they get. But our society tends to paint all sexual hedonists as harmful perverts, potential child abusers or rapists and that simply isn’t the case. Stigmatizing sex isn’t the answer. Because it is almost impossible to be honest and straightforward sexually in our society, it leads to all kinds of perversions. I suspect it is worse than we know. I detect an ugly, aggressive undertone in today’s sexual culture. We are intolerate of differences and very quick to condemn. We seriously need to chill out on this subject. Ironically, chilling out will actually help to reduce sex crimes, not encourage them. It is a repressive, uptight society that is terrified of sex that generates sex crimes. Why? Because sex criminals get off on the wrongness of it. For them it is an aggressive act, and acting out of their hatred of all those who condemn them for their sexuality. It is an expression of the rage felt by those who are terminally rejected, despised by everyone. They can only get sex if they pay for it, and even that becomes a dismal experience for all concerned. This atmosphere generates sex crimes.

I know that my feeble attempts to inject some humor and honesty into this realm will not solve these problems. No potential child molester or rapist is going to listen to what I have to say. But if any of you guys think I am a kindred spirit you couldn’t be more mistaken. I have pity for your condition. You need to stop what you are doing and seek therapy. I support your incarceration. It is deserved. When I champion sexual freedom I do not mean that kind of sexual freedom.

I know this is a difficult subject. It is why I write about it. I seek some resolutions for myself as well as for the world. I am not surprised by the wall of silence which greets my sexual posts. But even if no one whatsoever pays attention to my blog, that would be fine. I am ultimately writing this blog for myself. If it is of benefit to you that is a welcome bonus. Don’t worry. I have a lot to say about a lot of things which have nothing whatsoever to do with sex. It has been my preoccupation of the past week or so, and that too will pass. I just hope that my openness and daring in sharing my sexual fantasies and poetry encourages others to do the same. Don’t allow your lust to gather dust in some dank, dark corner of your mind. Lust is universal, and it pushes us onward whether we are up for it or not. We need a genuine sexual revolution. This isn’t really the right time for it, because everyone is afraid. They are too frightened to fuck. They fear the fucker. In many people’s minds a fucker is a dangerous criminal who must not be allowed around their children. We live in a society of sexual cowards, finding their release from images on the internet, and talking as though they are having sex all of the time. They speak of it casually as if they could care less about it. Nobody really cops to actually liking it, instead it is a kind of status symbol. Everyone generally agrees that everyone is fucked. We live in a world of sick puppies, and you can only hope to find the least sick of them to hang with. What a sad commentary that is. We have moved on from metrosexual to nosexual or antisexual.

I will continue to rebel against all of this, although I suspect I am truly a voice in the wilderness when it comes to this subject. I will go back to the heart warming poems with my next post, I promise, but occasionally I just need to be responsibly naughty in order to serve a noble cause. We need to fuck more, not less, and feel good about it!!