Road Trip with the Hollywood Actor
I suppose we’re both important now
one of us might say on the stretch of road
between America and More America,
westward, us discussed like systems, feeling,
terms of presidency in lamented irony,
impossible sincerity now we can scour
google-Tundra like gods whipping their presence
from scene to scene, life watched in a camera
outside your body. It’s synthesis
we might call for. We’re going left
to find the start of Earth, to pass into the end
and stall the cycle, inverse, again, before
wading through oceans of pre-time mountains
in motion, dollar-green, cocaine-as sand
between our toes. Desert candy. Hot pop-pink.
Sugar-stone wasteland. Utah pseudo-plateaued,
out-blazed by the information highway.
I could scream-laugh phrases, pretentious,
into the star-sucking night if I were less naïve,
if this hemispheric nation was gold with sunlight,
that autumn feeling. Fall forever. We’d pass a golden shrine –
choose your temples of fanaticism with great care – McDonald’s –
while predicting when New York will shrug
into a pile of glass pillars. Anyway, we stop
by protests against the petrol pipeline
and our yellow car blasts into the sky.
Aberdeen NJ, 2016
2am Poem or Something, Yeah
Headphone wire wrapped round
my outstretched wrist like a vein
in the milked-dark night,
glossy black looking back,
I thought of memory and heavy hearts
to the sound of past songs ─
my iPod, green stone, one
thousand songs on one slab,
orchestra in a palm.
My desk lamp is straightened
when absent. On the radio screen:
of signals on the edge of silent places.
The space, ceasing. And when
that light is turned off? Brief
after-orange. These songs will
not die, but pause, because
this body must stop all
looking. Go, light, give away
your mysterious ways;
my heated computer
can’t keep yammering on.
Ready for peace? Stop. Sleep.
A good tree turned Cursed.
Rotten from the internal servers, internal servants,
roots stretched into hopeless soil.
Stuck in a desert of spambot rust
and dead XenForo.
But a seed is pushed
by the winds of change.
Crafted by community spirit,
a leap of faith over infinite sky.
Hardmode is over.
Load up the new world.
Written in celebration of the launch of the new Terraria official forum site, Terraria Community Forum.
To All the Boys I Have Loved: Lessons Learnt
To all the boys I have loved, I have always had a lesson to learn
My value, my worth and my strength when facing heartbreak at each turn
I have given myself openly and honestly with truly little in return
But these are the lessons I have had to learn
Lies, deceit, and abusive words and actions always then blamed on me
What I know now, back then I was too naive to see
Shakespeare once said “love looks not with the eyes but with the mind “
It is true, love really can be blind
I held my heart out openly, exposed, and placed within your hands
Lesson learnt: if it is not protected and held carefully do not stay and question where you stand
Whilst I would make the time and make sure you were a priority
Lesson learnt: to all the boys I have loved before I was nothing than a mere majority
They will share sweet words followed with little or no action
Lesson learnt: when you question this, you will be blamed for your reaction
Continuous hurt and my kindness then taken for granted
All those moments and words spoken, only for them to be recanted
Oh, how I remember all those moments I have felt broken and I have cried
In those moments Lesson learnt: self-pride
All those scars due to hurt, my weary soul still recalls
Painful Lesson learnt: stop giving those who do not deserve it your all
See I was honest and always would say how I felt
Lesson learnt: that is not the hand we are always dealt
So, to all the boys I have loved Thank you for the lessons learnt
Once bitten, twice shy, and now the bridges burnt
So, thank you for the heartbreak, and for the healing that it has bought
Thank you for the lessons I needed to learn and that could not be self-taught.
You said you’re over it and it’s time to walk away
But then again that’s something you always say
You’ll walk out but you then come back
No, I won’t allow it this time because I’m sorry means jack
It’s been three weeks and now you say let’s talk, because I’m no longer upset
You ask me to sit down and listen whilst you light up a cigarette
But no not this time I’m so over it, I don’t need your love
Here comes the lies “Ding, ding” Round 1, hands up let’s put on the gloves
I love you, I’m sorry I didn’t mean what I said, as I go to walk away you say please don’t leave just yet
I just needed a-bit of space to sort something out and without me your so upset
Oh, so now that’s your stance
I’ll hear you out okay, let’s dance
“Ding, ding” time for Round 2,
I'm still here and you’ve now got me questioning what I should do
Listen, “I need you, you’re the only one for me”
“I’ll prove it this time, it will be different you will see”
“I promise I’ll change; you’ll never have to second guess”
“I’ll treat you like a queen and nothing less”
“Ding,ding” here comes round 3
The tug at my emotions, making me think we were meant to be
No, it won’t work this time, I’m sorry but I don’t need you
I don’t need the constant back and forth and your words that aren't true
“Ding,ding” hear that, yes for you it’s the final round
Now your silence is so profound
Now it’s my turn to fight back
Instead of on the deference I’m now on the attack
Nice try, but No, I’m done, it’s a K.O
Just like I was left in a daze who’s the one now looking like Galileo?
All your attempts won’t work this time because I now know it’s just a lie
So, baby do not waste your breath... this is GOODBYE.
Desert John’s Saloon
The doors of my heart swing open
Both ways, like saloon doors
On their double hinges.
They swing shut again
Immediately. Each new person
Has to push their own way in or out.
But even when the doors are closed,
You can see right inside,
See who’s there,
If anyone’s there.
These doors don’t lock.
Is it just empty? Closed? Abandoned?
Anyone can make their way in. To stay
You have to drink. To drink
You have to pay.
Do you have gold
In your pocket? Perhaps a
Tooth to extract? A tongue? A heart?
I dream of streets paved with gold,
Deadbolted doors, keys,
But this is the Wild
West. Any ol’ drifter can
Walk in, get drunk, wreck the place.