There is no place else I’d rather be
than with someone else that’s not me
there is no escape from world’s end
time isn’t something you can mend.
In a state of suspended inner isolation
without the fierce guard and desolation
reckless abandonment in the evening
substitute rational thought for feeling.
Save yourself the effort of finding truth
the throttle opens up the sun-moon roof
with nobody to watch the broken gauge
the needle dances above the red-line of rage.
Sitting in a Polk Street watering hole,
just like the very first night here,
many years have past though not very far,
give me a fag to smoke and a beer.
Everyone else on their way to someone,
sitting alone and assumed to be okay,
sideways glances that can’t be undone,
sleeping alone in the night and by day.
I can’t relate and probably never will,
there is no song I am inspired to sing,
you can’t get real emotions from a pill,
there is no bad belle to polish or ring.
I don’t want to sleep alone all day,
I don’t want to never want to wake,
I don’t want to go and sometimes stay,
I don’t want to be unreal and fake.
I wish to resolve what is inside,
I wish for a cold dark place to hide,
I wish for someone in which to confide,
I wish to have laughed instead of cried.
I want to feel the beauty I sometimes see
I want to sense the skin I long to touch
I want to be captive instead of almost free
I want to be the petal to your clutch.
I wonder how this will eventually end
another time & someplace welcoming
my faults are yearning to transcend
a life that was once worth a living
longing for a last chance to amend
remember the end is always near
exceptions to each and every rule
a winding path as an invisible ghoul
don’t give in to the hidden dark fear
you only understand what you wish
do to others what they’ve done to you
energy is eminating with a swift swish
answering questions you should eschew
down the vortex we swim like a fish.
Straining for attention to recognize their coolness
having all their pictures tagged in blissful vain
there’s nothing more important than how to dress
hipster spotting in urban-ville searching for the brain.
There is a place where you can stand and be ignored
looking for eyes that dart away from your old look
life slips and what once was cool is now not adored
being sociably different as pages in the same book.
Smile and wink like autographs and final answers
youthful skirts float and shaved bald heads bounce
hogging all the glances while ignoring all the cancers
zig zagging through the crowd with irony to renounce.
They give each other meaningless titles
misdirection at every fork in the twisting road
self reverent obstacles instead of recitals
they have everyone trained with Pavlovian ode.
Life is falling in every possible direction
up and down and side to sideways as well
inside out and diagonally right outside in
we do all the saying that they have to tell.
Chatter is flatter when nothing does matter
words are now empty and flow vapidly hollow
makes us feel bad being a good for not ratter
to disagree with every truth meant to swallow.
Resolving disagreements with their internal bias
disposition is something they keep in their gall
pick and choose what they see and hear as pious
scorn and ridicule what they admire most of all.
Leave alone their nonchalant attitudinal emergency
live in the darkness and die daily like the light
dance alone till dawn with no one else particularly
see what’s sometimes wrong and do what’s always right.
Complimentary E-Poetry-Book Download Makes a Great Gift
Join Aslan and Jennifer Monday’s at noon in conversation about how Philosophy, Art and Physics commingle to form our individual and collective global consciousness.
Special Guest V. Vale* of RE/Search
Pyramid Power
San Francisco Punk Power
How Punk Rock Changed the World
Surrealism not quite explained
The Power of Poetry
*Wiki Page Entry: V. “Valhalla” Vale is a writer, keyboard player and, as Vale Hamanaka, was a member of the initial configuration of Blue Cheer, prior to that band becoming famous as a power trio. He is the publisher and primary contributor to books and magazines published by his company, RE/Search Publications. “Valhalla” Vale…
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Join Aslan and Jennifer Monday’s @ Noon in conversation about how Philosophy, Art and Physics commingle to form our individual and collective global consciousness.
With Special Live In Studio Reading with: DEAD BEAT POET!
Gasoline Shower
Columbus & Broadway
Whore Friends
Pray for Fire
Gold, Oil and Drugs
and more…
Play List:
Someone Great: LCD Sound System
Ashes to Ashes: David Bowie
Birds Fly (whisper to a scream): Icicle Works
Subterranean Homesick Alien: Radiohead
Antmusic- Adam Ant
E=mc2- Big Audio Dynamite
I Remember Nothing- Joy Division
Go!- Tones on Tail
I Want Candy– Bow Wow Wow
Listen Now
Listen now….
Join Aslan and Jennifer Monday’s @ Noon in conversation about how Philosophy, Art and Physics commingle to form our individual and collective global consciousness.
With Special Live In Studio Reading with: DEAD BEAT POET!
Gasoline Shower
Columbus & Broadway
Whore Friends
Pray for Fire
Gold, Oil and Drugs
and more…
Play List:
Someone Great: LCD Sound System
Ashes to Ashes: David Bowie
Birds Fly (whisper to a scream): Icicle Works
Subterranean Homesick Alien: Radiohead
Antmusic- Adam Ant
E=mc2- Big Audio Dynamite
I Remember Nothing- Joy Division
Go!- Tones on Tail
I Want Candy– Bow Wow Wow
This experiment is the cornerstone to understanding Quantum Mechanics.
Now you may relax,
now you may concentrate,
now you may focus,
now you may anticipate.
The center that you seek,
the center that you store,
truth is something we all reek,
secrets are always behind the black door.
With your sophomoric arguments,
please don’t saddle our kind,
turn your eyes into accoutrements,
dj music will expanded your mind.
—————————————————————————————————————————————-
Portable : Adaptable : Responsive
The REG-1 represents the latest in quantum technology widely available for public use. Now anyone with a home computer can participate in The Aethersphere Experiment and explore the direct impact of consciousness on the art world.
L I T E E D I T I O N |  | S T… |
View original post 31 more words
Join Aslan and Jennifer Monday’s @ Noon in conversation about how Philosophy, Art and Physics
commingle to form our individual and collective global consciousness.
Each week we focus on contemporary or historical figures from the fields of Art, Philosophy and Physics,
and explore their contributions to society and relevance to us now.
Play List
Lies – Thompson Twins
I Believed What You Said – Psychic TV
The Truth is a Lie – Left Spine Down
Terrible Lie – Nine Inch Nails
Policy of Truth – Depeche Mode
Give me some Truth – John Lennon
True Happiness This Way Lies – The The
The Violence of Truth – The The
What is Truth ? _ Johnny Cash
Rebellion (Lies) – The Arcade Fire
Introducing the NEW Horror Zine book HERE!
Published by Imajin Books
From horror masterminds Bentley Little, Ramsey Campbell, Graham Masterton, Joe R. Lansdale, Elizabeth Massie, Piers Anthony, Melanie Tem, Cheryl Kaye Tardif, Scott Nicholson, Conrad Williams, Simon Clark and a host of other respected authors, poets and artists comes WHAT FEARS BECOME, a terrifying collection of bone-chilling, nail-biting horror that is sure to keep you awake until all hours of the night.
This anthology brings together some of the best works from The Horror Zine, an online magazine dedicated to giving you chills and thrills. Edited by Jeani Rector, each story, poem and art work within showcases an international talent that will give you shivers.
Featuring three poems by dead beat poet [b.a.d].
"Each spine-tingling chiller takes the reader into the depths of eerie imaginations!" ―Fangoria
They will laugh,
as we knock on their door.
They will laugh,
as we do all the dying at war.
They will laugh,
like there’s nothing to care about,
They will laugh,
because those with cash have clout.
Their grin will turn into a smile,
when the wins become less.
Their laugh with turn to snicker,
with the first sign of distress.
Their wonder will turn to a mild horror,
as their empire evaporates like a tree.
Their pockets will eventually empty themselves,
by the rest of us giving and doing most everything for free.
dead beat poet 
