So ya wanna be a writer, huh? Hahahaha. Good one. Ya wanna be anything that’s all ya gonna be is a wanna-be. You either are or you aren’t. All other efforts are simply forced, never work, don’t make any sense, and are downright pointless. You create anything ya do it out of necessity, not cuz ya “wanna-be” anything. You either are or you aren’t. And if you are then ya can’t help it and it will flow from you effortlessly. You wanna be a writer? Don’t. Give up. Try something else. Quit now while yer still young enough to do something different. Ya don’t do it cuz ya wanna, ya do it cuz ya hafta. If the muse doesn’t speak to you then ya got nothin’. Don’t even try. But if that bitch won’t leave ya alone then ya have no choice. Ya hafta. No choice. You either are or ya aren’t.
they flood my beautiful streets
the narcissistic shells of once dreaming children
not looking beyond their own
meaningless lives
or their hand-held hunk of technological garbage
crying out hoots and hollers of
ignorant mating attempts
each step or turn they make defecating
on my soulful concrete
clomping and stomping
through their illusions of important existences
never looking beyond their own crooked noses
a horn honks at my figure
as if to woo
my stomach turns in disgust
a young body of raw vitality
a life filled with soul
and unfathomable sorrows and pain
an aura that entices and warns
intrigues and terrifies
I see
like so few others do
and analyze the tears of many
each leaving a cigarette burn
on my heart
so I walk at night to hear the pavement sing
to walk among the souls of so many before me
engulfed in their stories of joys and pain
I know that I am little more than nothing
but at least I live
without the dilutions
of the pop culture vultures
that litter my streets in the light
Bonny “Prince” Billy -Ease Down the Road. “With her finger in my behind.”
Neil Young -After the Gold Rush. “I was lying in a burned out basement.”
Spiritualized -Let It Come Down. “I should of had it while I could.”
NOFX -Punk in rublic (me too). “13 quarters.”
The Notorious B.I.G. -Life After Death. “A nigga never been as broke as me, I like that.” also -Ready to Die. “My life is played out like a Jheri curl.”
Lil Wayne -Da Drought 3. “The south is so dirty bitch you can’t bathe it.”
I have a tendancy to write whatever comes to my mind at the time so here is :
most amazing sex i had…
M emories of a night to remember,
O verwhelmed by excitement.
S tuttering and nerves
T ime could only show.
A fter dinner we went to the theatre.
M ovie was a bore so we went dancing.
A t the club we saw that there was a costume party
Z ebras and giraffes trade stripes and spots.
I nteresting things were going on in the bathroom.
N obody was prepared for the horror
G andering out the window we were amazed
S omeone had actually called the ambulance
E veryone went to see goings on at the hospital
X- rays showed what seemed other worldly
I ntestines wrapped around each other
H amsters gnawing out.
A nd we missed it.
D oing it on a morgue slab was easy once we snuck off.
Neon lights flicker inside the letters strutting vacancy…
The sign dangles itself from my ribs, aching to be filled again
You were a gamma ray burst to my…
pitter patter
ba boom
ba boom
….now every breath echoes through oblivion….
and your promises lay lifeless, making like salt on open wounds disguised as eyes wide open
Sleep is a dicktease and I’m the dick… wanting it, but knowing it’s going to slip through my fingers the moment I touch it…. because that’s the game we play.
I should have kept the doves on guard when our gazes met, but something about you made me want to strip myself of me… and rebirth the wild child lingering within, wine cooler in one hand, joint in the other…
The thrill of you kicked the cat off my tongue and made me spit that frog out of my throat. You were like a stolen ride in an exotic hunk of adrenaline vrooming 150 miles down Route 66… back when it was the closest you could get to feeling.
I felt for you as a thousand diamonds sparkled in a seemingly endless sky….
I didn’t see it falling. I was too mesmerized by your beauty.
I gave you my heart, wanting you to cherish it infinitely….
~Afternoon Stroll~
they flood my beautiful streets
the narcissistic shells of once dreaming children
not looking beyond their own
meaningless lives
or their hand-held hunk of technological garbage
crying out hoots and hollers of
ignorant mating attempts
each step or turn they make defecating
on my soulful concrete
clomping and stomping
through their illusions of important existences
never looking beyond their own crooked noses
a horn honks at my figure
as if to woo
my stomach turns in disgust
a young body of raw vitality
a life filled with soul
and unfathomable sorrows and pain
an aura that entices and warns
intrigues and terrifies
I see
like so few others do
and analyze the tears of many
each leaving a cigarette burn
on my heart
so I walk at night to hear the pavement sing
to walk among the souls of so many before me
engulfed in their stories of joys and pain
I know that I am little more than nothing
but at least I live
without the dilutions
of the pop culture vultures
that litter my streets in the light
Kathleen J. Sather
Top 7 desert island albums.
Bonny “Prince” Billy -Ease Down the Road. “With her finger in my behind.”
Neil Young -After the Gold Rush. “I was lying in a burned out basement.”
Spiritualized -Let It Come Down. “I should of had it while I could.”
NOFX -Punk in rublic (me too). “13 quarters.”
The Notorious B.I.G. -Life After Death. “A nigga never been as broke as me, I like that.” also -Ready to Die. “My life is played out like a Jheri curl.”
Lil Wayne -Da Drought 3. “The south is so dirty bitch you can’t bathe it.”
I have a tendancy to write whatever comes to my mind at the time so here is :
most amazing sex i had…
M emories of a night to remember,
O verwhelmed by excitement.
S tuttering and nerves
T ime could only show.
A fter dinner we went to the theatre.
M ovie was a bore so we went dancing.
A t the club we saw that there was a costume party
Z ebras and giraffes trade stripes and spots.
I nteresting things were going on in the bathroom.
N obody was prepared for the horror
G andering out the window we were amazed
S omeone had actually called the ambulance
E veryone went to see goings on at the hospital
X- rays showed what seemed other worldly
I ntestines wrapped around each other
H amsters gnawing out.
A nd we missed it.
D oing it on a morgue slab was easy once we snuck off.
“I Was Never Your Moon”
Neon lights flicker inside the letters strutting vacancy…
The sign dangles itself from my ribs, aching to be filled again
You were a gamma ray burst to my…
pitter patter
ba boom
ba boom
….now every breath echoes through oblivion….
and your promises lay lifeless, making like salt on open wounds disguised as eyes wide open
Sleep is a dicktease and I’m the dick… wanting it, but knowing it’s going to slip through my fingers the moment I touch it…. because that’s the game we play.
I should have kept the doves on guard when our gazes met, but something about you made me want to strip myself of me… and rebirth the wild child lingering within, wine cooler in one hand, joint in the other…
The thrill of you kicked the cat off my tongue and made me spit that frog out of my throat. You were like a stolen ride in an exotic hunk of adrenaline vrooming 150 miles down Route 66… back when it was the closest you could get to feeling.
I felt for you as a thousand diamonds sparkled in a seemingly endless sky….
I didn’t see it falling. I was too mesmerized by your beauty.
I gave you my heart, wanting you to cherish it infinitely….
like Jupiter loves it’s moons
How was I to know I was never your moon?
©2010 Megan Moira