life with the blinds down

greater men have fallen ‘neath the weight of your worlds,
so young,
so artful,
naïve,
in your protests against the newest slice of life you don’t want to find,
the paintings you don’t want to see,
feathers swooping down your face with the tears of everyone you’ve ever forgotten.
i love how you think you can’t speak your mind while you kill the souls of the new lennons,
the kerouacs,
the revolutionaries.
i lie here,
thinking about bobby dylan and wondering what he’d say if he met a guy like you,
with your saccharine smile and vindicated lips,
talkin’ bout a revolution like you know what’s going on.
i think about patti smith,
how she’d tear down your walls just like she tore down mine and everyone else’s.
you’re funny in how you’re so serious.
i love taking down your pictures ‘cause it makes me feel powerful and ‘cause i know you like burning mine.
we’re so cute when we’re together,
actin’ like we don’t know where it’s at,
but,
sometimes,
i think you really don’t.

father, you had me

gods and horses bow at your feet, but not if i get to them first
you’re bringing out the shotgun while i’m wheeling in the hearse
burning me down, like i’m a house made of sticks
you want your door to be stone, but it’s not even bricks
the dogs of hell bound to your brimstone ideals
your intellect like a nude experience, all you know is to feel
like a baby adorned with chrysanthemum thoughts
like a sniper exclaiming, “now take your shot!”
we’re so alike, but only when you want to be
the winds of my emotion not allowed to go free
till our politics permit us to forgive the other’s presence
our eyes are the very nature of our essence
i look in the mirror, i want to kill you idols
but murder’s bad enough, let alone suicidal
i’ll miss you when you’re out destroying our fates,
the citizens of utopia burning down its gates

...that never were true

i’m no longer the best friend, but the next best thing
when you’ve no longer got your marlon brando
my sympathies were dead before you needed them
you know i could burn your house down

he’s so handsome when your eyes are shut;
you can almost imagine saving the world in his embrace
but our politics force us to withdraw when it’s dark
and you must come back in my cave

on repeat, your pleas become so obtuse
like you forgot what you were saying before you even started
rejection’s a pretty bitter pill to swallow
but at least it’s not the sun against the moon

watch out, be sure you don’t leave too soon

writing blog

hey kids,

basically, i wanted a place to post all of my writing that i do. i dunno, i guess i thought it'd get me motivated or something. i doubt any/many of you will ever venture this way, but if you do, feel free to comment. it would really mean a lot.

thanks,
amy