may (sometime) 4

All I own I cleaned and placed in boxes, and may leave in boxes, crowding the walls around the central space. There lies my great wooden desk, small but solid, I take with me wherever I go. All the way back to 1998. There lies my intention to write my poetry, my prose, my words, my books. The tv got the last of invitations. I may not open the door. When I die someone oughta cut my desk down and bury me in it. Together may we be — repurposed.

channel

i found myself purposed to be an instrument of some constituent pie charted and marketed and television saturated and worked, yes, worked, worked to the marrow to grow some boundless fruitless profit margin i would never see nor feel nor benefit from :: i found myself channeled to evolve our nation, grow her right off the fucking map, people, not unlike the old English empire. less colonialism. more land. smaller navy.

i found myself
and decided not
to participate
whatsoever

drama by katya

of purpose

Gave you my heart after all

the heartbroken

unspoken

the best chance I ever risked it all on

I gave you my heart and
you loved me out of blue
and all the colors run not
so disturbing
now

when I was alone the
monochrome was familiar
not unkind

I got used to the singleness

now I am used to
you

a story so simple

Having to make meaning in life can be hard and worrisome, but if you think about it as a creative endeavor you can get excited and maybe transform the worries and pretrauma of knowin our bodies can only hold us for so long before they wear out, into higher energy feelingstates. Living itself need not be impeded by worry thoughts and despair. So scoop up that pancake and flip it over. It is bubbling and ready. I will sit here, waiting for you, and write a story so simple there are no names.

reading at home with cat

100

I gave up once, too. I gave up on myself a hundred times. It was really awful. Soulless. Blank. The only way out for me was to believe in myself and have a cause. I wasn’t given a purpose, I found a purpose. Something so much greater than myself. The forces, if you align with them, can give you courage to live authentic, I mean, to be yourself no matter where you are or who is trying to boss you around, no matter what your circumstance, you shine forth and brightly. And find that you are one of a kind, you are needed. And wherever your passion lies, you go for it, purposefully, with a giving spirit. In 2016, do not hold back for anyone or anything. We need you.

Let your purpose carry you like a gust through darker moments of life, rattling the windows

I will be there
alongside your faith
to hold you
when you get home

We will know
neither day nor night
in our arms
embracing

Posted from WordPress for Android

EFFING EFFED! (POEM & SONG)

im so effing
effed

once i was smart
now i am dumb
once i felt feeling
now i am numb

only god
can judge me!
ice cream in your face i
scream in your face
cream in your
face your
face your book your
face ina book youre
not listenin to
me

wrapped up in cellophane
wrapped up in cellphone
locked up in cellphone
locked up ina cell

take this napkin
its white
draw whatever you want
its art
stick figures
its wiping an ass
swiping an idea easy
off a perforation

origami and you
and a cigarrette butt
and a cigarette
but…

we’re so effing boring
so effing
effed

reading the mind
reading the stars
reading the paper
reading my lips:
so effing what?

eff you! and your effing
effingness. sir eff-a-lot

hold the phone!
hold the tablet
hold your gaze on me
softly

read my lips
quiet the mindless
inaction

no faxes from Asia
no instructions
no faction

no mickey mouse
fantasia
no brakes and no
traction

no roses
no hips
no more LSD
trips

just vitamins for us
essential yet boring

no banana
silk-screened on a t-shirt
it detracts from the
logo

no velvet
no underground
no Warhol
its boring

personal headphones
sleep apnea machines
no music. no snoring

effing effed

no winning
no losing
no flying
no boozing
depressing the
snoozing

get high like a junkie
on pre-natal vitamins
another pill head
how boring

no touring the world

im at home. effing effed
just eating my grapefruit
its juices runnin
down my lips my
chin

purple liquid pooling
on to Sexus. page 177.

no living vicariously
through the dead authors

the girl after
girl described in the pages

a dirty old man
beats off in a corner
how boring…oh wait!
its the author

from inside the pages
hes watching the purple
drool down my
red lips

how sexy
to know you’re alive
to know we’re alive
you and me
both

how boring
to die

a girl and a
guy and a guy and a
girl after
girl

give me a mission
give me a message
give me a bottle

effing effed
ill crack someone over
the head
with it