papers/lighter/text

crumbled and rolled

boxful of boxes 01/24/2010

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 6:54 pm

i can be like him:
rescuing functional objects from dumpsters
an eternity spent rotting perfectly wedged
between styrofoam slabs slathered in
rotting perfectly functional objects

rainbows are tough but deep down
i’m barely the mist in a summer sprinkler
circa nineteen ninety six

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69 love poems part 2 01/23/2010

Filed under: readable,silliness — paperslightertext @ 3:06 am
Tags:

9

froze: a pose
contained in such
stained glass, frigid,
rigid, but beaming.
my sewed on smile comes unstitched
i think you might have tripped the switch.

10

so elusive! four score
dozen bad eggs scatter
dribbling down hide and seek
the birth of ludicrous ideas,
the usual downfall of the meek.

11
it’s worth a blistering barrage
of self-loathing, o Object,
for a glistening glance
at your ivory on fire.

hooded in faux-fur
eyes downcast, demure,
drastic! fantastic!,
it shan’t be true,
like a well-oiled lie
of aplomb, bombastic.

12

hunched over and quibbling
with the grimy screen
aching and baking and thinking,
you’re hardly ever this green.

13

oh, so you’re too good to phone me?
only if you just want advice,
on whether to join some frat
to hammer the shy out of you.
i can’t even tell if you’re serious right now.

14

i painted out the box when
fever-dreams of the Doc
demand i sewed it to my shirt
they’re expecting it to work

yet you missed the
dimensions. gotta
squint to see them,
just don’t blink-

 

69 love poems part 1 01/20/2010

Filed under: gender trouble,readable,silliness — paperslightertext @ 10:11 pm
Tags:

1
apocryphal prophecies
of the long one fore
tell of a coming blond
to contrast the darker,
for they often pair.
in tandem,
wishful thinking,
an imagined bond?
the teenage prophet forgets.

2
sew a button
on your lapel
if you’ve found
this bottled scrap
a declaration of what,
if out of the corner of
my eye you are,
flash a sequence.

3
i’m handsome,
you’re pretty.
held ransom-
such a pity.

4
cross-section of a blob:
contents include
disdain, jollity,
whismy, utter folly,
the words of surrogates.

5
can’t stop myself
hurriedly blue-boxing
fancifully possible-
plotting, forcefully
imaginable.

6
told me he was scared
of sex, i said sacred’s
overrated anyhow, isn’t it

7
a cow in calf,
more like a
clumsy pirouette.
a hippo in tutu,
a rhino in rhinestones,
an elephant unelegant.

8
i’ll never be a temptress
i’ll never be divine
i’ll never be drop-dead gorgeous
i just don’t have the time.
i’d starve myself if food didn’t taste so great
i’d shave if i gave a fuck.
but the truth is i don’t and i’ll never procreate
and i just don’t really give a fuck.

 

social networking set on stun

Filed under: readable,silliness — paperslightertext @ 2:28 pm

yr facebook’s flat,
it lacks affect-
tact escapes it,
spats are silent-
txt barring that,
correct me if i’m wrong,
but fuck, does it sting.

yr facebook hates you.
it smacks of defect
detecting a flat affect,
it pops up a chat
its ads insist that you’re fat,

no wonder our heads
are increasingly mean places-
we’re picking each others’ faces.

 

mirror-gazer 01/17/2010

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 3:28 am

isn’t it as easy as anything else?
can’t you hear it-
the sound of the universe,
a teaspoon scraping ceramic
in sickly circles inscribing
soaring arcs,
delicate time-tendrils?
don’t you tire of
the incessant thrum
of thund’ring battledrums?
doesn’t it drive you mad?
just daffy with diligence,
twitterpated by theory,
transfixed by potential brilliance
of ships in the thickening night.

 

ELOQUENCE, ELLLol. 01/14/2010

Filed under: blog posts... of interest!,silliness — paperslightertext @ 2:31 am

your response, which i do not want to read, always accompanied after a righteous storm of texting, that deep anxiety in the pit of the stomach that their response could be more hateful than my own vituperation. (YEAh, pull out your FUCKING thesaurus. or your google, or ‘titter’ or whatever the shit you kids use these days.) such a petty habit. to pick fights and abandon them. i blame… the internet. i blame anyone but me.

man, i’ma eat some fuckin icecream, fuck dat shit.

 

oh, toxic titantioch

Filed under: gender trouble,readable — paperslightertext @ 2:26 am

energetic ectoplasm leaks
out in marie curie waves
oozing from every sci-fi pore
disregarding dnd greg,

some doofy scapegoat,
a merciless toy godzilla
kicking at its carcass
cawing tiny squaws

effeminate man, or
genderqueer butch in the corner?
or corridor tormented by ghosts
of dance spaces once populated

where to write on the wall
would be like writing on space and time,
that’s how powerful a nothing it was,
steeped in headiness, a last jaded
hurrah, a t-shirt screen-printed to say,
eight grand in debt and all i got
was this lousy free hoodie.

set and setting aside
since i tore the inside up
and redecorated

all the simplistic love gone,
faded, competition
leaving me perpetually jaded

and cursing out the less fortunate
folk. the blindly yoked,
the yokel folk, the insulting joke,
the well-meant bloke…