Moral Inventory

I have the real thing,
strutting around.
Head to toe, I know...
I measure my worth
based on the value of my clothes.

I have a ton of gadgets,
I have a bunch of clothes.

My wallets empty,
my wallets worth more than me.
In the mirror,
I see the reflection of my clothes.

Each morning I take inventory,
fearless and searching,
head to toe, I know,
I have the real thing...
(for those who know)

Who am I?
Where am I going?
All the while this great wind carrying.
I make a bold statement.
A Man, who has a place to go.

Late night's journey,
sprinting upon the blurry scene,
every two steps stumbling,
on a straight white line
that leads to nothing.

In the mirror,
a reflection, obscuring
a dirty nose.

I have a ton of gadgets,
I have a bunch of clothes.

onbrownpaperbag

What if they found you, naked
in the hole you've been hiding?
You wouldn't say anything.

All the stars in the sky,
and you didn't reach for one.
All the branches of a tree,
and you couldn't cling to one.

Washed up before beginning,
giving away your crumbs.

You crept, not back
but into the shadows.
No one hears from you.
You eat or drink or piss
to pass the time.
You seemed to have stopped caring.

The city's all flash and no substance.
The women are on the prowl.
Immerse yourself into a role
you once only planned to play -
you lose yourself in it everyday.
The city and you are the same.

The room gets quiet every night.
The music's over,
and the sensations have gone.
Self absorption gets you
a public access station.
Whiskey comes stiff and early
in the morning;
It dulls your bleary mind,
as you broadcast your daily special.

Notes from Da Underground

yo, yo, yo,
i be edgar b,
all the girls know I drive a bentley.
They my biscuits, my oreos,
They hang around me like yo-yos.
They go, "baby, can i ride with thee?"
I go, "bitch, this ain't shakespearean!"
You wanna roll, you gotta blank on these!"
They think they my ponchiks,
my sour cream blinchiks,
my evening condensed milk and tea;
They call me a rascal, 
Yo I'm done with Sonias.
I'm a romantic,
the king of spain,
if you got a dog,
 he'll pass along,

my love song to you.
 
Blank, don't funk wit me,
I'll make you blank my blank,
and blank my blank.
You'll be like "its so scrumptious-mumptious
Think I'll have some more of these,
And so on and so forth."

Blank, here I am,
In the hollywood Hills,
smokin bowls,
spitting truth,
Who would fight Mike Tyson
for a Million and Two?
Floatin on ideas,
for reality TV,
who would get in the ring
for a Million and Three?

...

People sigh sweetly -
in a smile out of which
escapes relief -
when into their rooms,
they retreat.

And sinking softly,
into their pillows,
they can sleep.

A Day Removed

Oh, but to feel,
If for only a day removed,
That familiar fear,
Which haunts me still:
When fallen off Passion's peak
And into a yearning,
Oh, to feel again that burning!
Let me be uncouth,
And indulge in my fruit.
If for only a day,
Removed and replaced,
To hide the shame of such disgrace.

Dirty Girl

She said I never inspire you.
I said things to her
I wouldn't bother on a whore.
My heart is filthy,
my thoughts unclean...

I see images
but never
of you and me

fuckin around

Let death be as painful
as it is meaningless -
you know where I'm going with this.
It's fun to think about things
that never amount to anything.
Why philosphy?
Why bother?
You still go to the same store
to buy some groceries.
I'd rather not move.
I'd rather not exist.
The two, strangely, co-exist.
or they don't
who the fuck cares

sell crazy

artists, they speak of our grief and make money
refusing to be ordinary -
cigarette boxes, they're laughing at us.

documentary

Call me crazy,
But you all won't bother me.
People are looking
Off-color and shady.
Oh, I've heard warnings
On my TV,
Yea, from the warhead:
Things have gone
From bad to orange.
Nevermind those
who choose not to face this -
They'll be running 'round
crazed and hungry.
I've got electric volts
And a chain-linked fence.
You all won't bother me -
Oh, no you won't -
When I'm down there.

There's no one here to impress

You can't feel the flash,
but it's there:
it consumes you
the bottle that soothes you
your mother, whom you hurt.

Girl on Meds

You're too much
out of a book -
And I have read enough books.
I'm a conservative now.
I want a little wife and a home:
I want to make babies and eat them.

protocol

Better than a doctor
I can tell you for certain.
Don't matter
whether a line or a quatrain,
the mind is fueled
by the same obsession.

crude and uncouth

What can I write
That I won’t regret tomorrow night?

Shit…
that’s not right,
it just rhymes!

It’s in the mornings,
That I feel so obscene,
(then I’m back on again).

The clock is ticking -
Fuck you, cute motif!
I’m running out of steam
and I don’t have time!
To embellish you,
(there are toxins running through).

God grant me the serenity…
That’s where I stopped.
Dare I be bold?
Enough to try?

....

I just don't care today.
Let the cars pass me by!
The night is long tonight,
nice with all its lights,
But the rest are moving fast -
Let the world pass on by!

Tonight I'm going to revel
In my Daydreams.

I just don't care today.
I couldn't find the right words
to say to you, yet we both looked
and perhaps you knew...

Tonight I'm going to revel
In my Daydreams....
see you, darling,
as I'd like to see you.

I just don't care, today
in my search for insanity.
Everyday I see,
some more righteous,
much more fucked up than me.
Tonight I'm going to revel in my diaries.

the college years

Four years I've spent
Regurgitating words of a wiser man
While losing ten pounds in one day -
Who am I to speak of the Golden Mean?

Diary of a Madman

---
...but I'm a romantic,
the King of Spain!
And your dog,
he'll pass along
my lovesong.
----

The West Wind of which they Speak (1863)

Oh! but to live the life I once knew,
Before time lingered on.
In the back of my mind,
I felt within me, Life,
slowly as it was leaving me.

Now I stand, motionless-
In commotion, I pray to thee,
This west wind of which they speak,
Blowing winds and consuming me;
I am but those amber ashes,
Pleading to thee.

Everlasting, everpresent -
For so long, how I ignored thee.
I felt I was the stronger,
Till Power was mine no longer.

Now I try, to close my eyes...
For I may see or feel thee.
Your river flowing, provoking;
As thy wind upon me blowing.
No longer dead my Will be -
Rekindle the fire of my fancy.

(on brown paper bag)

-
erasing new numbers everyday.
sighing like a child, sleeping in your own bed again, today.
rushing against lost days, clinging around the table, to family
--Scatterbrain, so sweet, like a hooker swept off her feet: It must be sincerity.
Coming home the next day, with that all-consuming
--m o n o t o n e--
grasping for air, choking on words, to muster up some of that sincerity-
As empty as the air I breathe.

Something extra reviving you, above all your friends,
on that sprint of serenity--
“I must be getting highest, off the air we breathe.”
Spoke too soon…
(or it couldn't have come soon enough)

Too heavy a weariness to stand--see out the day--
I curse my friends for being content,
dull for sitting around, living moderately -
Then drive around for hours, try to force a standstill.

doh re mi be lazy...in deed

smoke weed don't smoke weed
snort speed don't snort speed
smoke dope don't smoke dope
snort coke don't snort coke
drink all day don't drink too much
drink all day don't drink too much
sit all day don't eat too much
drink all day don't drink too much
watch TV don't smoke too much
sit around don't sit around
lie in bed don't lie around

...miles to go before I sleep
...miles to go before I sleep

smoke weed don't smoke weed
snort speed don't snort speed
smoke dope don't smoke dope
snort coke don't snort coke
drink all day don't drink too much
drink all day don't drink too much
sit all day don't eat too much
drink all day don't drink too much
pop a pill don't be a pillpopper
pop a pill don't be a pill popper
mama mia! mama mia!
watch TV don't smoke too
much mama mia! mama mia!
sit around don't sit around
mama mia! mama mia!
lie in bed don't lie around

...miles to go before i sleep
...miles to go before i sleep

dream and dream the drugs kill dreams
dream and dream the drugs kill dreams
dream and dream the drugs kill dreams
dream and dream the drugs kill dreams

Dream. (1,2,3)

Just a look -
Like you used to;
I looked away...

Then looked back:
quick teary-eyed look.

I could feel it.
How I miss it!
Your eyes swollen after a fight.

Your look -
How can it feel so real?

...dreams now make interesting my days.

*

*All things written in these multiple blogs, unless alluded to—or to alluded, is it?—or specifically referenced are written and copyright by EatKhash and his double eb

Ode to My Vishap (or My friend Jack)

I fear one day I'll go impotent,
It's a potent fear of mine.
It strikes me in midst of a paranoia,
How I hate coming back to these stages.
And when I consider it thoroughly,
I'm thankful for medical advances.
And I want to research and compare,
And I want to ask my friends,
But they're too much
Products of Propriety,
Bent on pomp and glory,
Boasting of their masculinity.

There's a discrepancy
Between the brain and the yearning:
Or perhaps they're one in the same,
Worn out from continuous chemical strain.
Surely, I, too, have worn myself out with this fatigue:
Recovery days that take longer than they used to.
All I know is constant intoxication and disintegration;
The flame flickers as soon as the passion ceases -
The experimentation stage is so high school!
I'm not as sharp as I used to be
And I think I may have contracted ADHD.

When the thrill is gone And you're a cliché,
A target of trigger effects and impulses;
When you write lines on scraps of paper,
blasting Leonard Cohen,
Sustaining tears of lost potential -
With your own drunken pomp and glory...

I hope these lines are as fulfilling,
When I leave the arms of Morpheus,
And the companionship of my friend Jack.

Center of the Universe (Scum of the Earth)

In the early hours of the morning,
You will often find him roaming
The slums and ghettos of the city,
In search of indecent company.

The smell of sex and meth,
The fear of life and death -
I need to get out of this city...

Over the hills and far away
From you all:
On Alvarado, across from MacArthur,
you can basically find anything you're after;
In the hills off of Hillhurst, with that gorgeous view,
where the hookers take residence, for a day or two;
On Highland and Santa Monica,
ignore the horny trannies and those eager to dupe you;
And next to Tarzana Rehab Center,
where their rent money has been spent,
(and on Christmas we sat around lit by candles);
Or any house in the valley, you can tell
by the windows boarded up and the useless shit lying around -

What more than depravity
Have I found in this heavenly city.

...

Only to Forget I Exist,
I sleep.

Even in fatigue, flouting
That which will flicker
into inconsequence, what still remains
of a flame illuminated.

Like a neglected lover,
to whom I crawl into bed:
A soul weary where
the animal roamed freely,
marred by the filth of depravity.
Indifferent, I am here again.

Like an irrational decision,
from the strain of a polar consciousness:
It’s sweet and soothing,
free of obligations or guilt.
Indifferent, I am here again.

But like an unappetizing choice,
Safe and plain, and always there:
A calm stability, a welcome cushion,
To disentangle me from the web
of free will and individuality.

Lines Composed Reading John Donne Remembering What’s Been Done

His Mistress Going to Bed.

If, tis beneficial to one's health,
T'will make life longer -
then, you fuckin whore
you're going to live forever

...

Give me fetters!
So I can, again,
Give in to you.
Numb me.
Till the memory,
Dull and heavy,
No longer bears down upon me.
And I, voluntarily,
Laying as her body did,
To Him willingly,
Drift away.