tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-690511697532642032024-03-08T05:39:22.403-05:00Ruinsif you are reading this, you have made a mistake, this is a forgotten place. these are the old words. turn back. find the new words. these are only the ruins.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-21296041194435281942010-07-01T15:35:00.002-04:002010-07-01T15:38:28.480-04:00Too slow to save the <br />dead, our leaders <br />are inept and cruel. <br />While they memorized the digits <br />of factoid findings <br />we can't forget the <br />violent still lifes of devestation. <br />Still, they will move like <br />heroes in the camera's lens, <br />dashing to save the poor blue dead. <br />While 10 million more flail their <br />aging arms against the lash of gravel<br />the swell of glass.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-23511743999974679852010-07-01T15:30:00.002-04:002010-07-01T15:33:23.109-04:00The shadow stands silent <br />in the sprawling distance. <br />He is the prophet of idle hands, <br />the conductor of self destruction. <br />He is the shadow of Control. <br />The unyielding silhouette <br />of greed soaked Executives. <br />The shadow on the bring needs no <br />cloth of mystery. <br />He is my own capacity for horror, <br />my drowning days of sloth, <br />and my forgetful unknowing inability <br /> to learn. <br /><br />DEFEND<br />TAKE AIM <br />at the prophet.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-63865985761214257622010-04-21T11:54:00.000-04:002010-04-21T11:55:31.410-04:00The Vernacular of Vestibulesis a mixture of silence <br />and neutered jazz. <br /> <br />Outside exposed to the much talked about weather<br />I sell empty space<br />“$5 please”<br />I inhale fumes and fresh air <br />“Hello sir” <br />Some people don’t say a word.<br />Others exhale Seneca Nation cigarette smoke,<br />chew big bites of wet meat,<br />see through me <br />beyond me <br />accuse me <br />suspect me.<br />“Let me get the door for your ma’am” <br />My degradation illuminates their elevated status<br />more perfect than bleach<br />whiter than teeth. <br />“Thank you so much” <br />I stare at clouds<br />close my eyes <br />control my breath <br />expanding into <br />empty space.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-71780326452875443652010-02-13T19:13:00.003-05:002010-02-13T19:18:52.692-05:00I see a photograph of <br />a bright dancer <br />in mid step. <br />Nice to note the <br />rare beauty of human form. <br />Then I catch the glare<br />off the glasses of a girl <br />looking on and notice <br />the audience and their <br />average faces. <br />The photograph <br />becomes sadness.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-7283936355440689772009-12-04T12:18:00.005-05:002009-12-13T16:12:59.933-05:00Nostalgia & Missing YouYou arose<br />out of the blue and<br />withdrew into <br />the black<br /> rhythmic wheel of a <br />passing bus.<br /> <br />I feel something like <br />nostalgia and missing you. <br /> <br />You who paid dearly for<br /> every burning minute <br />of all those late nights. <br /><br />And once you're gone<br />you can never<br /> be lost again.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-6791395432385628252009-12-01T10:00:00.001-05:002009-12-01T10:03:06.033-05:00HIRO-SAKISome poor shadow's lips are sure to have muttered an "I told you so" before a belated and epically awful FLASH turned solid matter into poison vapor. <br /><br />The skeptic remains depressedly optimistic while waiting for the horrible twist to reveal itself and it always reveals itself to the anxiously patient.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-87439310879495840102009-11-11T10:48:00.002-05:002009-11-11T10:54:14.310-05:00I <br />know <br />why<br />your <br />struggle <br />never <br />ends <br />cause there's a man <br />who rides his castle <br />cross the gray <br />littered sky.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-11678281640803508162009-10-21T21:43:00.002-04:002009-10-21T21:49:05.735-04:00For you, Mr. NothingMason jar spirit<br />maintain leash length. <br />Hearts under home arrest <br />subject verb agreement. <br />Realization re-run<br />static on the edges. <br />Toothy tribal grin aimed at the aboriginal camera.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-34564257999058870692009-10-14T12:35:00.002-04:002009-10-14T12:38:42.402-04:00The need for metaphors and <br />other murky means of <br />information have ended. <br />Why not come out and <br />say it, that the United <br />States government has been <br />lying,<br />abusing,<br />maiming, <br />misplacing, <br />killing,<br />creating its citizens <br />even before the first <br />frigid native placed a single frozen foot<br />in our conquered land.<br />By which I mean the terrible <br />authority of the United States<br />government is exactly the same <br />ancient authority that cursed Prometheus <br />for a flick of his bic.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-49132086218124158372009-09-28T00:15:00.003-04:002009-09-28T00:21:11.406-04:00the imaginary night is full of imaginary jazztin cup stuck up stars<br />break black ink on moonlit bars<br />where everyones a shadow<br />of something great before<br /><br />midnight blue birds perch on stoops<br />urban chickens free funk in their coops<br />coffee stained teeth chatter pretentious caffeine <br />where everyones a silhouette of <br />something great to come<br /><br />and i wonder if it ever does<br />if it ever will<br />and who knows the names of <br />shadows and silhouettesStuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-9482468037891769122009-09-20T22:44:00.000-04:002009-09-20T22:45:12.640-04:00Cloud ControlEmpirical opinions held.<br />It was the old books I first learned to weld.<br />Mental fists clench sweat.<br />Found fast land sailing shallow seas.<br />Embellished words and lofty chains<br />only add more weight.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-27372131842434306672009-09-19T15:14:00.004-04:002009-09-19T15:23:20.931-04:00disposable cityI can't yet understand<br />just how disgusting<br />it really is. <br /><br />Jessica says,<br />"Philadelphia, one of the most notoriously segregated and poverty-stricken cities in America, is closing its public library system in the face of budget cuts and lack of funding on October 2, 2009."<br /><br />A city crushed<br />inside an ashtray,<br />tossed into the street.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-18602434573321203572009-08-13T09:48:00.002-04:002009-08-13T09:59:32.692-04:00Riding my lady's bikeWhile riding along the <br />river I'm thinking, <br />"what does Buffalo smell <br />like?" and fuck, like <br />cheerios. General Mills <br />is right on the water front <br />and the whole place reeks <br />of cheerios. <br /><br />The smell is out of place<br />like finding my childhood <br />wrapped in plastic <br />left to die behind <br />the train station. <br /><br />Fulton used to smell like <br />chocolate before <br />Nestle closed the plant; <br />the first chocolate <br />factory in America. <br />I remember riding my <br />bike through town and <br />smelling it everywhere<br />especially when they <br />burned a batch. <br />The baseball park <br />was down by the plant <br />and you know I never felt <br />like a part of that team, <br />those people, that town. <br /><br />Abandoned buildings <br />and buildings yet <br />to be abandoned <br />look exactly alike <br />under Sunday's metal sky.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-66575627679242860462009-05-29T23:15:00.003-04:002009-06-10T10:38:09.729-04:00I'm driving through a neighborhood<br />in a city <br />I can't understand, <br />in a city like <br />any other, <br />so full of <br />hunger. <br /><br />I'm driving through this neighborhood<br />and see two <br />plump white punks, <br />they are <br />imagining themselves <br />broken. <br /><br />The boy is lying <br />in the grass<br />wearing a cool smile<br />while the girl <br />begs on the corner<br />bulging out of ripped jeans <br />underneath gelled hair. <br /><br />Her cardboard sign looks, <br /><span style="font-style:italic;">cute</span><br />HOMELESS <br />BROKE <br />HUNGRY <br />each word its own<br />color. <br /><br />It's not romantic <br />to be poor<br />insane <br />lost <br />hungry<br />dying <br />filthy<br />afraid. <br /><br />It hurts.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-59038016370849658822009-05-27T08:58:00.002-04:002009-05-27T09:02:20.990-04:00I read a poem in ArtVoice the other day. <br />The poem said<br />"Buffalo smells like cheerios".<br />I disagree.<br />Buffalo smells like <br />locked doors and flooded <br />basement floors.<br /><br />Buffalo looks like<br />a beautiful billboard<br />above an abandoned building.<br /><br />And it doesn't feel <br />like anything.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-69219270590793062642009-03-09T12:34:00.002-04:002009-03-09T12:34:54.451-04:00RealizationThere is little<br />I<br />can do<br />to ease the sufferings<br />of this world.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-48306586477729544432009-03-09T11:54:00.002-04:002009-03-09T11:58:08.087-04:00Why I Choose to UnsubscribePolitical poetry has become<br />incorporated in the political process<br />and therefore is corrupt.<br />Revolution is also<br />incorporated in the political process<br />and is corrupt.<br />The president,<br />the poet and<br />the patriot<br />are recurring archetypes<br />in the melodrama of history.<br />Hope cannot be truly inspired<br />through such a simple medium<br />that is man.<br />No one<br />should ever trust<br />a man.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-72908890428717433152009-03-02T09:18:00.002-05:002009-03-02T09:51:59.211-05:00poems I never finishedBlank pages smell the same as ink filled pages and great words look the same as dull words.<br /><br />Artists, painters especially should be careful using text signs, takes away, steals the viewers chance to reach that idea on their own. I want mystery not definition.<br />Writers, poets especially should be careful using imagery, takes away, steals the readers chance to reach the picture on their own. I want mystery not definition!<br /><br />The pen is a power chord.<br /><br />Dear smiling picture with the prefect teeth,<br /><br />I see you in the magazine my mother buys and keeps on the bathroom floor. Why do you care so much about your own health living through science? I can see how healthy you are living through science, with your face cropped so neatly. Fucking shrunken anonymous head propped up in a window I never opened show your true self for once. Have the common dignity to be morose. Can't you see you are incomplete?<br /><br />I woke up depressed.<br />She's in an ugly city<br />and cries every night<br />as we hang up the phone. <br /><br />The idiot world wants<br />to burn sodom, gamora<br />are back again. Emprie has<br />us by the throat and we<br />laugh piss drunk. <br />Empire tightens its grip and<br />we stare blindly back.<br />No, that's too abstract. We<br />refuse to move, reject our<br />strength, cage our minds behind<br />electronic joy, we will burn<br />in flames built with<br />books we refused to read.<br /><br />Flying over Dresden he dropped 500 lb bombs killing 325,000 civilians. (not so much a poem as it is what an old man once told me on a greyhound bus)<br /><br />How many more times will I have<br />to leave her crying outside<br />a greyhound station? Two more<br />times at the most.<br />How did I ever get on the bus<br />after she smiled through tears<br />that fell straight from her<br />eye to that bitter Philadelphia<br />sidewalk? With lead steps.<br /><br />I'll trade you<br />my romantic ideals<br />for whatever<br />change in your<br />pocket.<br /><br />I think this pen is sick. It will die soon. I abandon the pen as it has lost its capacity for value and mainly use, just another broken tool.<br /><br />Bloodshot eyes are the broken windows<br />of the soul and life force leaves<br />like heat driving up your energy bill<br />that you pay for in years of your life.<br /><br />My cultural critiques are antiques<br />I am relic I am dust in the lungs<br />cough me out in clumps of snot<br />cross me out like<br />pre-pubescent prose.<br />I will go quietly<br />cue exit music<br />dial up modem dialing up up -out<br /><br />and on and on and on and on and on and on it goes....Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-76195427052098866702009-03-02T08:51:00.001-05:002009-03-02T08:52:48.573-05:00wasted daysI feel like<br />the smallest island<br />in the largest ocean<br />today.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69051169753264203.post-45722113327736663862009-02-27T09:04:00.000-05:002009-02-27T09:06:59.472-05:00free will versus the flux capacitorTime travelers never<br />have to ask themselves<br />"how did I get here?"<br /><br />A time traveler chooses<br />his or her own destination<br />unlike the rest of us<br />who get swept around<br />like so much dust.Stuarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07388997852575335872noreply@blogger.com1