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No Rest for the Wicked

and the good just can't sleep

9/25/07 09:21 pm - Pack my bags cause im outta here..

momma dont' love me and momma dont' care

http://thekesselrun.wordpress.com/

9/18/07 09:17 am - Dont' Try

And if it should matter what i say these days,the point is pointless and seems to be a never ending stream of nonsense,
as romantic, angry and moody
it is all the same jumbled mess that i call my mind
the inventory i take dredging through the shit is almost like a bad garage sale there is nothing of any value or that 2 dollars for the handful of buttons that once meant something to a child
so if you should see me ,just cross the street or move to the other side of the pub
i will keep my head down not bothering to talk
my pint will keep my company and counsel in brief conversation
the bartender will be my deckhand as i sail through the heart of a saturday night not looking at the compass for the way home...
the flags forever at half mast

9/2/07 10:33 pm - Not the news at all

Cabin fever was setting in even though i was completely knackered,i headed towards the bus stop but of course the bus that is never early is in fact passing me by already with that done i headed for the train...a block away from the train i could hear is on the tracks rolling away.
A Guinness at the place on the corner sounded better to me than waiting on the trainstop,a few pints down i headed towards the train deck
i could hear a police radio not too far away and i didnt' pay much attention though...
a few minutes had passed when a fighting couple had came down the stairs..the girl was pregnant and obviously fed up with this man who was yelling at her i knew the cop was rather near so the situation was no affair of mine..i walked to the other end of the platform as the officer approached the two yelling people and he chased the man off ,this is when a wonderful thing came about..the uniformed man went into his pocket handed the woman his own mobile phone then let her make a call he then said good night and headed towards me.
He walked closer to me and when he was in earshot i asked the officer..you let her us your phone?He nodded and replied "She needed to get a ride out of the neighborhood and i wasnt going to make a crying pregnant women walk to a pay phone"
the train came seconds later and i watched the policeman continue his walk of the station...
Sights like that dont' sell newspapers i suppose

8/27/07 06:50 pm - My hero,yes you

Aside from noticing things that i adore on a day to day basis,it could be im too serious for my own good lately
moving past tourists everyday of my life has become sport again so i tolerate it more theses days...
On to the new hate well its more of an old haunting hate i suppose,the tri-state area douchebag but now all grown up.There isnt' a pizza place or italian ice stand i dont' pass on a regular basis in any borough without a pregnant girl getting her fix but that isnt' what gets to me...its the prick in his lexus or freshly waxed car parked half a block away waiting for this obviously waddling pregnant women.So i salute these men,your my hero..you drive the whole 6 blocks so your soon mother of your child can get her spumoni or garlic knots.Your mother should be proud of you sitting in your air conditioned ride listening to your lovely music (that we all appreciate so much)while this poor girl cant' walk as it is but you send her in the NYC summer heat but hey wait you drove her there im not giving you enough credit since gas is expensive...yes my hero i hope you choke on that italian ice that she carried back for you.

8/23/07 10:57 pm

No,not going to bother
move along there is nothing at all to see here today,band-aids on a bullet wounds thats all

8/23/07 10:50 pm

Our Mother, who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom never came. You who have been defiled, belittled, and diminished. Our Blessed Virgin Mary of Most Precious Blood, menstrual, ephemeral, carnal, eternal. Rosa Mystica, Black Virgin of Rhinestone and Velvet Mystery, Madonna of Volcanoes and Violence, your eye burns through the palm of my outstretched hand. Eye glowing with heavenly flames, one single Eye watching over me, on earth as it is in heaven. Dammit, mother dear. There are serpents in your garden. Licking your ears with forked tongues, poisoning your already damaged heart. I am suffocated by my impotent rage, my eyes are blinded by cataracts blue as your miraculous robes, I listen intently for snatches of melody, the piercing high-pitched wail of your song of terror. Here, clues to your ghostly presence in the lingering trail of your deadly perfume: wild roses and plumeria, the dizzying fragrance of damas de noche, the rotting bouquets of wilted sampaguita flowers you cradle in your arms. I would curse you in Waray, Ilocano, Tagalog, Spanish, English, Portuguese, and Mandarin; I would curse you but I choose to love you instead. Amor, amas, amatis, amant, give us this day our daily bread. Our mother who art, what have those bastards gone and done now? Your eyes are veiled and clouded by tears, veiled but never blinded. Dazzle us with your pity, let the scars tattooed on your face be a reminder of your perennial sorrow. Kyrie eleison. Kyrie eleison. Lamb of goddammit who taketh away the sins of the world! My dim eyes scan the shadows in vain, Ave Maria full of grace. Ita missa est. Manila I was born here, Manila I will die here, tantum ergo sacramentum. So the daughters say, so the sons seek out miracles, so the men will not live to see the light. Your long monkey toes grip the hairy coconuts strewn at your feet, virgin with one ear pierced by a thorn. Stigmata of mercy, the blood of a slain rooster spouts from the open palms of your monkey hands, stigmata of beautiful suffering and insane endurance, Dolores dolorosa. Spilled blood of innocents, dead by the bullet, the dagger, the arrow; dead by the slingshot of polished stones, dead by grenades, hunger and thirst; dead by profound longing and profound despair; spilled blood of ignited flesh, exploded flesh, radiated flesh; spilled blood of forbidden knowledge, bless us, Mother, for we have sinned. Our Mother who art in heaven, forgive us our sins. Our Lady of Most Precious Blood, Wild Dogs, Hyenas, Jackals, Coyotes, and Wolves, Our Lady of Panthers and Jaguars, Our Lady of Cobras, Mournful Lizards, Lost Souls, and Radio Melodramas, give us this day; Our Lady of Typhoons, deliver us from evil, forgive us our sins but not theirs. Ave Maria, mother of revenge. The Lord was never with you. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed are the fruits of thy womb. guavas, mangos, santol, magosteen, durian. Now and forever, world without end. Now and forever.

Jessica Hagedorn
Dogeaters

8/20/07 01:43 pm

The unknown is always fascinating prospect,the road less traveled and all those great cliches
even classic stories and folklore point to what lies elsewhere in this world
the grass is greener and anywhere is better than here
childrens stories are never fully understood until youve' gotten out of Kansas but even Dorothy figures it out in the end....

8/14/07 10:03 pm - Red or White?

So after a pointless walk ,i strolled back to the neighborhood heavy headed since i was going back the exactly the way i came and that was not part of the plan...
Hitting the edge of familiar streets now,streetlights and brand new cars line the way with a faint sound a running water
i had to look over since it was a quiet weeknight plus this bottle of wine in my hand wasnt' doing me any good,,,
two men with hoses each watering their 5x15 patches of grass not even watching where their spray was pointing they were just staring aimlessly into oblivion with blank looks..i had to stare at them at them myself since it was fucking scary, is this what these men actually looked forward to in life?
a pre-fab house on the outskirts of a lovely little gentrified neighborhood with a shiny gas guzzler?
i slip past them unoticed
watering a lawn on a warm summer night kills time in between football seasons...

8/8/07 10:35 pm

You can never go home again... but I guess you can shop there.

Martin Blank

8/8/07 10:04 pm - Mikey Corleone

Once again im back into the fray,although my mind has never really left its still an odd sort of feeling or when youve' slept too long and you cant' shake the haze in your head and the crust from your eyes
everything and anything is awry
shadows loom through the hollow that used to be somewhere
everyone settles and takes what they can grasp and hold dear,
a glance
a small note or even a dreaded phone call
that gorgeous face that i used to know is far away
replaced by complacent vacancy and townhouses
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