The Neon Zee

Famous Fragments

the heart of Joan of Ark,

masterpiece of burning. 

 

Galileo's middlefinger,

heaven's first fuck you. 

 

Final breath of Thomas Edison,

caught in glass, like light. 

 

the ear bones of Beethoven,

but they were stolen. 

 

Kurt Cobaine's suicide note,

framed, venerated, reissued. 

 

the Rosetta stone.

which has been cracked. 

 

Keats' love letters,

responses, all lost. 

 

The garden at Giverny.

 

Lincoln's bloody cufflinks. 

 

Rome.

 

Was Cleopatra beautiful?

 

the song for me 

you never wrote. 

 

quiet.

 

dusk.

 

dread. 

 

Liberace's sparkling costume collection. 

 

the Grand Canyon.

 

Vesuvian man.

 

JFK's brain.

(but I hear they've destroyed it since

to clear evidence for those who chase 

the case of The Second Gunman) 

we were always the disgustingly

false conspiracy.

 

obsidian arrow head. 

 

Mao's formaldahyde bloated body,

huge tourist attraction at center

of tiananmen square-- not so far

from where a man

stood vigil before tank.

 

Persephone's pomegranate winter.

 

falling down a staircase into 

clouds, your arms,

        the dropped rose.

 

Venus' marble arm.

 

Eyelash wish,

the fluttering eyelash stuck to your chest. 

poem refers to no one in particular and no time in particular. just stolenness and broken things.

Naming You

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NAMING YOU

I  grave

i'll wait somewhere forever

for you.

 

they dug me six deep

and I was a hole

to fill. 

 

II  corpse

snowdrop water sunk and then cracked these bones.

a daisy seed sprouted in my nose hole

weaving through the mouth cave with spindle sewn

lace finger roots. soil absorbed the rich soul

 

and much became planted in the cool roast

rainbow chocolate of earthstuck flesh clumps.

from dirt, blooms sprung about my gross black ghost,

penetrated and pinned by the cross stump. 

 

prison is not coffin, but tomb marker,

here lies spirit stamp iron wrought etch.

i don't exist, but still suffer darker

purgatories: merely the starring wretch

 

of the loving epitaph. i exist

in stench, resist god fists of fixedness. 

 

 

III  baby

the bouncing beats sound softly. woven hearts

interlope cross body territories. 

stillness, not easy, as i am both part

and within movement, our sordid stories

 

of plum bobbing apples, incarnate Eve

or Newton's trembling fruit. its for you i wait,

weightless within the thrum, to be received: 

naked date with the pearly silk slick gate.

 

i seem to inhabit, it all becomes

me, within you, housing me, snake pulse

and dark, thick, milk fog swirls bthm bdm,

en-wombed so, by universal forces.

 

fluid sack bursts, tornado squeeze contracts,

sucked forth by breath  till' void, again, takes back. 

 

 

IV  mother

i waited for you for months,

it was like they say

about boiling water. 

 

i was a big globe swilling

thousands of tsunamis.

what shall i name you, 

little death? 

 

 

dear marina abramovic, you and james franco make me sick LOVE ALI

you know what annoys the hell out of me? poems are small little itsy bitsy things demanding 2-30 minutes of your time (and 30 is totally pushing it for the most part)-- and yet, we spend years (sometimes less) fine tuning the shit out of them. revising, editing, facelifting, etc. there are infinite possibilities of editing within the one little poem.

 

AND THEN THERE ARE THESE PERFORMANCE ARTISTS who spend a month of time on some MASSIVE FUCKTASTROPHE with 8 thousand moving parts, millions of moments of possible artistry--

AND THEN THEY DEMAND YOUR ATTENTION FOR 2 HOURS ON SOME PIECE OF CRAP. 

 

which is why im inclined to believe Natalie Portman's ballerina double. that shit must've been SERIOUSLY ANNOYING. natalie portman is not a prima fucking ballerina. jesus christ. she's a self righteous little vegan twit who went to harvard and laughs like miss piggy. maybe she's a good actress. maybe. BUT THERE IS A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN FINE ART and low art. 

Swan Lake and The Garden State. 

and if you don't get that well fuck you.

i love The Garden State as much as the next pseudo hipster...but I won't pretend for a second that Marina whasterhead the performance artist is a new age John Keats. NOPE. never. NEVER.

 

just sayin'

dear world

ALL WRITERS ARE BIG FAT FRAUDS. 

GET THE FUCK OVER IT. 

The poor dear doesn’t stand a chance when set upon by an industry of self-appointed Pygmalions.

PRINCESS BADASS?????? WHAT?

i didnt give a fuck about Kate Middleton or THE ROYAL WEDDING until some fucking dumbass advert popped up with a montage of awkward kate moments that could not be exited.

fuck i am a newly minted kate middleton fan:

 

PRINCESS BAD ASS???

 

i want arm muscles like that. or give me death.

 

or something. 

 

all hail the princess?

p.s. we had left over champagne after my poetry rreading.....so my roommate and i cracked it open and fixed ourselves a pot of refry beans (duh) cus thats practically the only food we have in this house.

 

CHAMPAGNE AND REFRY BEANS! REJOICE! 

p.p.s.

sometimes i think i hate everybody in the world except lady gaga. and i hate lady gaga too when her music sucks really really bad. which could possibly be always....except i still love her. 

 

she is the person to look up to. i wont stop until i've won a voice until i've created something that sends love and assuages loneliness.

 

nobody can stop me. 

 

and nobody can stop her.

 

and obviously i dont hate anyone....

except myself basically

(but thats normal)

"death penalty bullshit"

I just opened a word document...and for some reason this long list of reasons why I am completely against the death penalty popped up. I think I wrote it in my FYE (freedom and authority) about 4 years ago. but my position hasn't changed...and I'll still rant about this to anyone who will listen. The blog is my last resort as its the illusion of a captive audience.

and i created it so i could indulge myself. so thats exactly what I will do.

 

Doc Entitled: Death Penalty BULLSHIT

-death penalty- psychologically cruel and unusual?

-killing in self defense is the only permissible reason for killing

-nature verses nurture. I don’t think that anybody is born a killer; I believe psychological fuckery makes killers (though perhaps there are a few mentally disturbed people who might be prone to impulsive or destructive behavior.)

-I believe forgiveness is more healing than revenge- that revenge perpetrates hatred and anger.

-Even if there are people in this world who deserve to die, as a fallible being, I can’t conceive of being responsible for judging who reserves to die and who does not.

-I don’t think a government institution is functionally responsible enough to decide who deserves to die or whether or not some people in this world deserve to die.

-My faith in state and federal judicial systems is minimal.

-My faith in state defense lawyers is minimal.

-Originalism is by no means logically applicable to the constitution! It is contrary to the philosophy of the construction of the constitution! It was meant to be amended according to the development of the times and the appearance of future nuanced ethical issues. The constitution is meant to protect the people from its government. Protecting the people from its government includes protecting the values of the people from the ulterior power driven motives of the government- to protect the marginalized...etc. If capital punishment and abortion have developed as moral issues since the construction of the constitution...then these issues should be addressed accordingly. This is why the constitution contains The Elastic Clause. The constitution would not have been accepted by the ethically/politically/etc un-united colonies if not for this clause.

-The word “unusual” was chosen and used by the drafters of the constitution with purposeful intent. The meaning of “unusual” is elastic unto itself. What is considered “unusual” is constantly evolving. If you want to adopt an originalist perspective, the original intent of the founders was to utilize clear rhetoric where necessary and elastic rhetoric where necessary. The elasticism of the constitution was a purposefully employed device both rhetorically and in the elastic clause itself. The drafters never intended the constitution to limit the rights of the people, but instead, to limit the power of the government. The bill of rights was added solely to garner the support of the colonies as well as to ensure that the government couldn’t somehow infringe upon the rights of the people in the future.

-While capital punishment was acceptable and practiced (more or less) guiltlessly in the time of the constitutional convention, the drafters by no means explicitly declared capital punishment a necessity of a functioning state government.

-Innocent men have been placed on death row. Innocent men have been executed. As an individualist, I think it is morally decrepit to have a system in place that jeopardizes the life of an innocent. If there are people who deserve to die, I’d rather see them all live than see a single innocent man die by means of state or federal execution.

-Due to legal fees, executions cost more than life imprisonment.

-All of the money invested in the legal systems existent due to the death penalty should be invested in rehab programs and public schooling.

-Further more, I believe that each person is deserving of rehab and also, its ridiculous that we have so many people in prison. Blah.

 

IN CONCLUSION: BLAH!

ANKLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

its kind of ironic that i show off my legs and basically work almost 2/3s of my outfits around that fact....and yet my legs are utterly broken and stupid. I think they broke and suddenly got sexier or something. because sexiness and brokenness are often one and the same. or maybe i finally figured out the importance of ankles and dressed accordingly.

here is something: ankles. 

i wore knee high boots since seventh grade....and it never occurred to me that ankle boots exist for a reason. i thought they were the bitch of bootwear. 

 

i was wrong. it turns out i was the bitch of bootwear. 

maybe if you think about it, my useless legs are the reason i read fashion blogs/started to channel my energy inwards....so discovery of the ankle is perhaps linked to my discovery of fashion blogs via immobility. 

 

in any case. im obsessed with creating optical illusions/allusions with clothing. try it.

or ignore my rambling.

or something. whatever. 

p.s. heres the latest gem delivered by Alber Elbaz via Anna Dello Russo's blog

"Be big and small at the same time...Big in your work and small in your life
 Success is like parfum, you can smell itbut you can't drink!"

AND yesss, i mock her...but only because she is a cartoonish version of me in a way-- and if my ridiculous speeches and unsolicited advice were delivered in a different language im sure I'd sound exactly like her. 

winning doesn't feel like winning unless you have mind blowing sex in the running end of the sequence.

just sayin'

for instance, it is now the morning after and i still feel a fire lit under my bones. but in other other news-- rock  is dead. seriously. i was playing kyuss in the house the other day and my hippie dippy yoga mat monk grain eater roommate called it "NOISE" and requested that i turn it off. i think im the only person at CC who just wants rock- or some variation on that theme at the least. everybody else is either womping or chillwaving or bluegrassing. and i am all by my lonesome in my sad kooky corner of sadness.

so... i am serving up some kyuss light= QOTSA, The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret,

 

but since the theme of this blog post is sexual frustration....i'll provide a link to my favorite sexxxy song of all time    (also QOTSA)

 

 

(now this is the part of a blog post where i congratulate/mock myself for sounding like i quoted Almost Famous....or perhaps even unknowingly channeled the cuntiness of 21st century people who romanticize the olden days that happened 20 years ago. BUT WHO AM I KIDDING ANYWAY. half the time i wake up and pretend like im Penny Lane. Especially the field-topless-frolick part. but also...definitely the groupy part.)

on that note. 

 

have a good saturday motherfuckers.

day of drama and poetry and interviews and nerves and drama and whatever

and

now im sitting at home eating a brownie, drinking a beer and crying over the latest vampire diaries episode. 

 

CONGRATS to all the winners tonight! which is everyone i love! because you're all awesome! and im corny! and you're lucky to be awesome and have a corny friend who makes corny statements of love about your awesomeness.

 

that is all.