decade

PEACE OUT 2010. 
bring on my to-be favorite decade...

prosepiece - just

just start writing,
stop fighting, igniting-
a new kind of passion,
a spark of reaction,
some verbal infraction,
relentless attraction...
break free from what stops you,
from bleeding your truth through
--just scratch at the surface,
it so will be worth it
-get yourself back in touch,
pull you out of this rut...
know it's never enough
but you still got so much...
left inside to come through,
to feel something that's new,
get a fresh point of view,
let it flow right through you,
and embrace the distraction,
unique interaction
--enough to get started,
just go for it whole hearted
don't analyze it, give it all
and just commit
--you'll get it, and come through
--stop thinking and
Just Do.

prosepiece - so much

so much pent up, inside of me
prick pinhole in it,
let. it. breathe.
release in steady, focused stream
deflate, debate the casualty
a summer slips so easily,
through fingers, toes,
and soul to feed
and know the need,
avoidance seems,
much easier, to let it be.

prosepiece - tired

so tired
receiving
mixed signals only
still left
on own solely
stuck in
the middle
and holding
just bowing
start breaking
myself of
this habit
turned
half-year
to tragic
stance
nothing
no longer
keep head straight
moving forward.

post it prosetry

prosepiece - not sure

not sure what the point is
only fleeting
leaves me keeping
clinging, cracking
feel so lacking
longing, loathing
start retreating.
no need to be
reactive,
feel so placid,
pleasing, plighting
but i so am,
sparse igniting
leave me grasping
grappling, fighting
with my self
resolve to stealth
and coax my wanting,
leave me well.

prosepiece - sweet

so sweet, a doll and douse with love
come fluid from fingertips
laid soft from above
float from cosmos, ethereal space
lies between us, as seen such
in lover's embrace
our lips warm connection in
the air that we breathe, 
the space from between us, form shapes
play to we.
so graced to be slowed down
and breathing aligned
reminded, to find it, 
as spirits collide.  

prosepiece - dumb

so dumb.  too weak.
thoughts a wreck
head can't speak
mind to thought
so much doubt
scratched short.    
left without.

prosepiece - feeling

the feeling's overwhelming me
consuming so much
                            i can't breathe
the truth is that it's
hurting me,
         pierce hole in heart,
leave me to bleed.
still not made whole,
scars fresh and raw
tried healing too quickly
to open the door
          to a new kind of
wanting,
                            the tables have turned,
flip back, change of mind
and so feeling perturbed.

prosepiece - listen

listen to
don't care for me
but all for you
to let it be
aversion to attention on we
shy from the matter
only matters to me.
not to compare one to another
no label but lover
still seems plenty to cover
our bases
so basic
not reckless,
just complacent.

prosepiece - enough

enough to tell me all these things
of past, non-present, formalities
as not to conflict what i see,
delusion, disjointed,
reflection of me
truth is i'm bothered, but passive persuasion
enamored expression of communication
and loving connection
dissection of basics,
alluding to coming,
plans of expectation
...uncertain, but working
this bridge that we're building
alliance, symbiotic
and mutually gratifying
so natural,
come with it
and cosmic cohesion
paralleled in
and dwellin'
within a new region.

prosepiece - honor

an honor, no bother
they all talk in proverbs
so loyal, treat royal
the new one, to spoil
and meet to spectators
pass judgment, leave takers,
don't let down, and stumble
head forward, stay humble
and true to our instinct
no stake in our new link
entwined in our onset
unfolding the best yet...

prosepiece - now

now i loathe
how i feel
acronym, lost appeal
a summer spent to
spin my wheels
get lost, stay put and
start to heal
no waste of time
and can't conceal
a catch, get caught
inside the seal
by other name,
we're still the same... admit it
get with it
let love reign.

prosepiece - great

a better bet
a better buy
to sit and swap and
stay awhile
a new intent
a lifetime spent
to know, how now
and what extent
the words are messed
and thoughts distressed
to flow, let go
start to progress
to something slight changed
in the best form, arranged
in the cosmos
not seeking,
but bestowed so,
completely
in tune with the other
power to discover
innately
so greatly
and left to
uncover.

prosepiece - distraction

distraction
from action
just want
satisfaction
no reason
for others
and less
for my struggle
so bogged down
and listless
feel drained out
and useless
don't need it
or want this
just keep it
for remiss
i'm tired
and anxious
treading, making
no progress
beguile abounds
and empower
resounds
but i'm left
on my own
so severely
distraction-prone.

pages

prosepiece - mind not

mind not my celestial prophecy
your words, cradled in ambiguity
softly rock my soul
hypnotic in melody
intrinsic in tone
deflected by a mirrored luminescence
the memory slowly melts me
cooling my thirst for freedom
complex in thought, in content, the present,
is rolling
     in waves
          through me.

prosepiece - contact

contact, to capture
appetite for rapture,
erupting, elating
consuming and baiting
me, creating
frustrating
invading my waiting...
impatient,
or forget
just leave it,
quit the struggle to
receive it.

me, then.

stumbled upon this.  from 2002... or sometime around then.  simply came from "about me."  likely a John Gardner exercise in creative rhythm.
i suppose, this was me.

i'm a giver & a taker, movie watching, heart breaker, free minded, self-promoting, truth bearing, baggage toting, creative writer, lover, fighter, guitar playing, manipulating, soul-searching, laid back, hard working, beach goer, mind blower, low maintenance, swim instructor, dog loving, passive-aggressive, gemini, compulsive/obsessive, compromising, jeopardizing, question asker, multi-tasker, non-elitist, heartfelt defeatist, lying, seething, broken, grieving, loving, hating, deeply bleeding, non-smoker, joint toker, liberated, fairly jaded, complex thinker, compulsive eater, self-bashing, bottom feeder, brown haired, brown eyed, confidant, jersey pride, sister, daughter, niece, cousin, angel, devil, breath of heaven

prosepiece - tip

on tip, of tongue
the words form one
soft sound, another
like no other, ever mention
subversive suggestion
the dream elating
banter to baiting, me
slating, placating
it's not worth all the waiting
my time's getting precious
don't waste it
embrace it
it's only a moment
intangible can't hold it
so take me for words freed
from parted lips
between we.

prosepiece - knew

if you knew what
was on my mind
you'd be shocked,
completely horrified or
caught by intrigue,
lured inside
can laugh to self at
those denied
explicit detail
every inch and all
thought out the way
i think
and move to get it,
all comes back,
the upper hand so
tightly grasped
and held so close to thought in mind,
to what i find
on the outside.
don't lock it tight, it starts to slip
my thoughts formed words, can't
get a grip, it seeps so quickly
out of me,
the truth, so happy to be
set free.

prosepiece - know

i know you like the
way i move
when slow, i go,
consuming to
enjoy the presents
presence brings
to knees i fall
but armor clings
i'm guarded not to
let it be
as slow, i show,
you all of me.
it falls to floor
the clang abounds
i hear for
days as shock
resounds,
i peel the layers,
let them down
and take you up on
chances found.
i find i like the
way it works,
no strings to cling
to skulk and smirk and draw
conclusions
leave loose ends,
no need to break ties...
make amends.

prosepiece - got

i've got a dozen pages, false starts
a million or more so
broken hearts a
handful plus of
lost intent and efforts saved
for thoughts misspent..
a thousand words got lost in mind
a precious few, of friends i find
or found to bring us center, see
seas just apart, dissecting we.
a life divided flows in part
the words reel fast and flood
the heart, my lungs inflate with
toxic, fleeting, messages lost
in open hearts beating
and bleeding the truth through to
you, as i see it
wrapped neatly
completely
it's only unneeded. 

mottstreetblues

this post is via my sister.  because it makes me laugh.  for the record: i loved this cake. 

Sunday, April 11, 2010

professionalism...

to everyone who has already seen this & heard the story, i apologize... i just LOVE this and for some reason - this never gets old to me... so, my mom goes to the store and orders a blank birthday cake for my sister... she tells the girl behind the counter she would like it to read "happy birthday corey" ... the girl says no problem and that it will take a few minutes... my mom does a little more shopping while waiting and returns back to the bakery counter to pick it up... the girl hands her this and says 'i hope this is okay- i've never written on a cake before' !!!!!!!!!!!!
now- i love this cake... i think its the absolute greatest cake i've ever seen in my life... but don't you think it would have been wise for the girl to give my mother the heads up first? i wonder if she told my mom it would look like a blind third grader wrote it, if she would have gone ahead with it anyway??? hmmmm

Posted by Leigh at 9:56 PM

prosepiece - don't

'don't feel bad,'
'...about anything.'
my life, my choices
all i've seen
the places i've been so
and righteous in sin
the singular art
and moment of presence
deceiving, misleading
myself and the other
distasteful, disgraceful
embracing the struggle
i buckle,
the pressure,
keep pushing it farther
within me without me, no matter, no bother.
realignment, of sense
of conscience, defenses...
let it go, roll right through me
forget it, let it
just be.

prosepiece - been

i've been deeply gouged
destroyed completely
left for dead
and hijacked discreetly
needed, and sucked dry
then tossed to the gutter
revered and held highly
then left with no other.
disappointed, disheartened, dejected, left empty,
hurt and held tightly
then discarded, defenseless
no closure, no kindness
no scrap of our friendship...
dissolving a kinship,
just reveries so distant
despondent and doubted
i'm better without them.

                                       
                                  (except you, jL.)

prosepiece - kiss

your kiss is like quicksand
can't pull back, get sucked in
creeps over my toes
between the cracks in my soul
fills me up, makes me whole
as it swallows, i know i will
slip in and sink
in this thick quick, no thinking
just doing, misusing
ENJOYING it's o o z i n g
devouring my legs, up my waist as i beg
there's no rest, no protest,
feel it's weight on my chest,
it submerges the rest,
so escapes my last breath,
to your lips as you coax it
no struggle, i submit
can't quit it
sticks to me, draws me in
then consumes me.

radiohead

Talk Show Host 

prosepiece - sorta

sorta wish you knew me
think you'd like me, see what i see
and we're friendly, sometimes maybe
let it phase me wish you knew me.
being selfish can't relate this
but you'd know it, like to fake it
i'm half decent, almost clever
moderation, i'm no better
than the next, compare my self
to no one else
my standards well...
are just for me, and measure
free will let me fill up but still
it gets me nowhere, left defeated
broken spirit strength retreated.

truth is...

i like distraction.  i'm a multi-tasker.  not necessarily diagnosable as attention deficit, i just like to share my attention with multiple tasks and sources of distraction.  simultaneously.  mostly, my closest friends can keep up with me (or at least ingest enough caffeine to cope). 
i think everything is basically a distraction from something else.  so that way, if you keep your attention moving quickly from one thing to the next, or to several things at once, there is always a way to keep busy from having to place your attention on things we'd rather forget about.  i suppose that's what could be called "procrastination of thought."  although, in application, it really applies to not only thought, but action.  it splits your attention.  especially nowadays.

it's too easy to surf the web, chat with friends, with the tv on, while your cell phone is on speaker so you can text at the same time.

we've become too conditioned.
i mean, decision engines??
BING!
who comes up with this shit?!

(for the sake of full disclosure, i happen to really like Bing.  i think it's a reasonably formatted and intuitive search engine.  Bing's basic maps and directions are, arguably, better than Google's.  and every day you go to Bing to search, you've got an amazing photograph from someplace i never knew existed.  my problem with Bing, in this particular instance, is that they're marketing themselves as a "decision engine??"  i mean, aren't there already enough examples of BAD DECISIONS made of human volition?  we have to bring in machines to take over for our own thoughts?!  poor research and development, boys.  you would have been better off calling it the first ever "discovery engine," but maybe the patent on that intellectual property is already taken.)

sorry... i got distracted.
SEE WHAT I MEAN?

anyway...
the truth is that i like it.  distraction, that is.  it's good for keeping the days moving.  the problem becomes, when you can't turn it off.  i can turn it off... but sometimes i just don't want to.  sometimes i invite it into my life.  it seems we all do...

prosepiece - excuses

excuses, they're useless.  the truth is, i use this
as fuel to the fire, feed flames they grow higher with
nothing.  to admire... just more stuff to acquire
skewed sense of perception, headed the wrong direction
it's useless aggression, malignant misdirection.  you're reeling, 
not feeling, concealing,
need healing... it's frustrating, creating and faking, keep taking.
don't give though,
one sided, can't hide it, your puppet,
pull strings make him just fit, can't see it's not worth it, not working, not growing,
just stunted and bowing.  not what you should strive for, this life should be far more,
convinced that you've got it, too scared that he's not it.
and showered with diamonds, those jewels keep you mindin yourself
when you're with him
it's not like you'll miss him, be happy again and get out of your head, and stop
planning your future, it's unsure... just live more.
got so much i could teach you, but you'd never want to, it's just
sad but so true.  this has always been you,
just one of the many.  stand waiting for plenty, to shower upon you
do the least that you have to.
i'll just be moving onward.  pack my values keep em strong toward, this life
that i'm growing, without you
i'm showing myself, moving forward.  feels so good to dismiss,
having freed myself from your ignorance.

scrap

here are two half decent lines in a mess of... well, just a mess.

prose

Main Entry: ¹prose

Pronunciation: \ˈprōz\

Function: noun

Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French, from Latin prosa, from feminine of prorsus, prosus, straightforward, being in prose, contraction of proversus, past participle of provertere to turn forward, from pro- forward + vertere to turn — more at pro-, worth

Date: 14th century

 

1 a : the ordinary language people use in speaking or writing b : a literary medium distinguished from poetry especially by its greater irregularity and variety of rhythm and its closer correspondence to the patterns of everyday speech
2 : a prosaic style, quality, or condition

Thanks, Merriam-Webster.

caveat

i recall greg ryan, john mascaro, john kennedy... all telling me explicitly, once it's on the page for someone else to read, it's no longer yours.  it's a sentiment i know is true, but still has always been difficult for me to come to terms with.  i still have copies of random zines and lit mags that i've written pieces in, and if i read them now (years later) i still have the voracious urge to edit myself. 

the past few days i've been spending a little time going back through my notebooks.  wondering what, if anything, i could bare to clothespin onto the web.  for anyone to criticize and interpret. 

anyway.  this is a strong caveat to anyone who reads prosepieces posted on this blog.  these are pieces that have been collected from 2003-2010.  i cannot and will not disclose when, during this 7 year time line, individual pieces were written.  so don't ask.  except for emily.  she can do whatever she wants.

a note to PCs

if you're viewing this on a PC, i'm sorry.  i think it's sort of intended to be viewed on MAC.  unintentionally, of course... but nonetheless. 

it comes from

some of what you'll stumble upon in the web of threads and pages to follow this primary post, comes from a source already created.  i'm a long time fan of pen and paper.  i, of course, cannot deny the ease of creation, deletion, and editing that a digital medium provides, however... there's something more authentic about actually holding a pen (or pencil, crayon, quill... whatever) and putting it to paper. (or, more frequently in my case; napkin, scrap, back of receipt, etc.)  well, i've been compiling (in some cases, crumpling into a ball and tossing in the trash) those scattered pieces of prose and housing them in notebooks.  for years.  there are many.  so, in paying due homage to the sanctuaries that house so much of my life, my thoughts, my... self, i am posting a few visuals below.  i think.  if i can figure out how...