Taking medicine from a machine
Plastic people plastic times
We’ll go west, we’ll find them in their homes
Sucking on life, sucking on souls
Behind greenery of luxury
Behind the masks of stature
Drawing blood from their world
Taking medicine from a machine
A Letter From Clyde Wilcox, a short story from Gavin Hignight is included in the new Anthology SLEEPING WITH SNAKES: Notes from the Los Angeles Underbelly. The book has just been released by record label and publisher Orange Recordings.
Get your copy at Amazon.com now!!
For Poem of the Week, I’d like to share something from friend and writer Scott Gustin. I’m very fond of it.
9/25/2009
Hammer of youth falls
Upon sun drenched skin
As the fancies of idols
Erode and blister
The small hand reaching out
Clenches fist and inhales
Fermented fruits long littered to Earth
Faint memory of blossomed limb
Upon desolate road
Among etched granite stone
Below cracked timber of long silent mine
On Milky Way spattered nights
The creep of time
And the pondering mind
Last year’s draught of dust
To sooth not but thistle
Beneath pale slivered moon
Night quenches glow
To pound this season’s crop to pulp
So one may not thirst long
To thirst for not
Now these bones shall lie
Where gavels are crushed
Beneath hoof or foot
Where the right hand
May caress the horn
And bedtime myths
Are swept upon restless sea
Upon these pages pool ink night
And not is but a tale
Woven from will
That one might set foot
Upon not trail
But beat a path as thou shall
Hello! Sorry for a lack of updates. We have been busy with the launch of my new webcomic THE CONCRETE WORLD.
This is a free cyberpunk science fiction comic that will monthly with new pages.
Hope you enjoy!
Taking off into the sunset
I can’t think of a more fitting flight
To say goodbye
To lay a friend to ground
To walk over a once sacred place
And through memories of younger days
Gold, orange, and blue below
The air will chill soon
The life will grow a little more weary
And hopefully a little more wise
On route to the homeland
To say goodbye to a friend
To say goodbye to an era
We place him in the ground tomorrow
We’ll take part of him with us
wherever we go next
Taking off into sunsets or sunrise
He was the Neal Cassady to my Kerouac.
Thanks for the adventures, for pushing me into territories I would have never gone on my own.
RIP Tony B
the dirty mind weak
the lost
the way we see things
the way things are presented to us
the dirty mind weak
it brews in my head
thoughts as poisons act like agents
clutter cloud like mind
fog on thoughts
drowning again
in this
in you
it’s what we have all become
the dirty mind weak
contained within me
I can’t eject
how I have tried
purge this poison
rush from these times
times where man’s mind is in the black
weak
struggling for control
make those images burn away
flash away from us
be gone
be gone
the dirty mind is weak
And I watched them walk away
And I said goodbye to their youth
And I thought about mine
It’s gone now, so gone
And I think about the was
And the way they are now
The angst on her face
The pain in her eyes
It was mine
And those were the times
And yes those were the times
And I miss her, and I miss them, and I even miss the pain in her eyes
And I watched them walk away and I just watched them walk away
And how cruel it can be
And how cruel I can be
And how long ago those days…
So young and serious
So logical too
So political we thought
And on the outside so tough
So smart or at least we thought
I saw in her face
She was young
her blonde a little dirty
Her face was a little too
And I love her for that moment
For she brought me back
To the times when I was young
And so angry like her
So angry like her
The Grief Proceedings
I found a young girl lost
She found a demon
Not in me, but in what I was capable of
Capable of passion
Of love
Of the idea
Of possession
She found a man on the edge
His hand reached out
Not to help her
But to hang on
Chaos
That’s what she has found,
That’s what she will always wander towards
If not from this man, than someone else.
Someone laced with the same poison
She was bred upon this,
Her fathers and mothers,
They train in chaos,
They too walk on the edge.
Love should be freedom
We retreat from those we are most fond of
We should prevent them from the chains we carry
The Grief Proceeding will come soon, the times when we mourn
Not what came and went, but what never became at all