please don’t murder my brain
with those numbers, calculated
Time kills the
Life cells
long hours, shred, and grind
the lines of fine time
divided, only in minutes
Brackets
Bullets
Square roots
Multiple shoots
can call your sanity into
Question.
I…on the other hand haven’t yet
found a sum, that can
ring the un-wrung sounds
of a soft heart, and steady
fragile feet
climb
on the days (numbered)
on our scripted
lives
PhilosopherPoet
today venus sat on my bookshelf licked its vagina with her tongue once done she simply stared up at me with yellow poker eyes as if she had forgotten the problem
i know i hadn’t because almost immediately i turned the page of the book i was reading and continued from where i had left and venus simply lay there if it wasn’t for the fur youd see that she was naked right from her breasts to her inquisitive toes that peaked under the duvet when I wasnt watching
her and the games she
taught to herself while frolicking in the garden this morning she caught a bird and two bees and once id finished scolding her about environmental destruction and nature conservation she taught me to forgive and learn by holding a flower with your fingers and listening to its echo that comes out of the buds when only your heart is listening
because thats what the garden was all about i came to learn through an eventual stumble of ideas and soiled trousers swearing at the other clothes that were too clean and full of water
this is another thing i remember about her and the way she seemed to walk through the slush and muddled flowers waiting for my greasy hands and a chance to prance around when the spade wasnt
around
you see thats what I learnt watching her and the way she laughed
the way that her hair stuck to parts of the song she sung
life is a creative experience and you should treat it the same way like the time when she was drunk and dived into the compost heap full of dying shit and creamy humus she didnt care or apologize for the mess or the way she looked with bramble branches tattooed on to her instead with a giddy shake of her head she giggled and said
ill clean it up tomorrow
almost always she had a hangover and forgot about the garden spills and mess since all she ate were panadopills and the rest of the pizza from the night before she climbed into the void of a lunatic that had enough passion to change the day and order in which the garden lay before she sprung on me
armed with vodka and mud and creating enough nonsense to calm a flood that occasionally rises from the inside when i forget to check my stageface in the mirror beforeandaftermeals and let the audience know that when you sit in the mud and nature comes and climbs into you with matted paws eyes stuck in sleep and a wideyawnjaw and tells of a anchored consciousness inside those bones
it calls you
in a whisper and tells
you youre home
PhilosopherPoet
This is the first part of a short story I started…with let you know when I have more…;)
PhilosopherPoet
************************
Alex walked into the Kitchen. It was 9 o’clock at night and he needed more tea. He found things easier in the darkness. In the evening, he could concentrate and feel alive. He poured the small sea of sugar into his cup. So untouched and innocent, he thought. It was the first time in weeks that he’d begun to think of things other than himself. It was disconcerting, and one could even say distracting. He placed his cup in the microwave, it meant that he could cook the teabag beyond what normal people thought was ok. It would first boil…then hiss. After a good ten minutes, it would split open under the pressure and spill it’s insides into the rest of the liquid. Now that thought was probably more comforting than drinking the tea itself.
He grinned and looked up at the ceiling while he waited for the monotone hum of the microwave to stop. Tonight he was excited. He was in a different mood for some reason. Something about the stillness and the seemingly loud sounds that came from his movements…bred a chilling possibility.
*
The following day while he walked back from school, a thought came to him. He let it sit there in the last empty corner of his head. He watched it. He listened.
Calculate, he told himself. His Math teacher had told him the same thing a thousand times, although she didn’t know someone like Alex would listen so closely. Calculate meant more to Alex than simply finding an answer. It meant waiting. You had to first listen to the clock ticking in your head, before you could rip out another question. Sit in the examination of your own thoughts…and decisions.
Calculate meant listen to the variables. Feel the pulse of events that flow through this single decision…and decide where to put them. Alex reached for the golden door knob between him and his house. The door knob between him, a belligerent mother, and a drunken father. He went inside, passed the boiled faces shouting his name. They seemed so hollow now, it was almost as if their voices had now peeled off him like paint, escaped into the air.
Alex walked up to his room, the wooden steps sounding more solid.
Calculate.
That was all he could do now. He shrugged on his earphones, and continued to listen to his favorite song…Eaten from the Inside. He believed the words. Every time he listened to the murderous drum beat, he felt calmer. Now that thought he had brewing in his head, grew into a full-sized idea.
(NOTE: The following story was told by my half sister, I’ve simply interpreted what she said – via my step mother – the scribe.)
*The Crystal of Love*
By Trinity Ballam-Smith
Chapter 1
One day there was a jungle girl named Ellie. She lived in an island named Hawaii. She was sooo happy there. One day (while trying to find some grapes) she spotted an elephant. She didn’t know that she could speak to animals. But when the elephan tried talking to her…Ellie listened.
They were very confused because they didn’t know they were sisters. They went to the elephant Cloud Princess and she said,
“Do you know that you two are actually sisters?” and she was amazed that the elephant princess had old her story.
She replied, “”Did you know, a long time ago King Rothbart turned me into an elephant because he was so angry. I didn’t let Rothbart go, so he strangled me and he took all my powers away. I only have one power left, and Rothbart doesn’t like me any more. he put me into a dungeon, but luckily I broke through.”
She paused momentarily, and continued.
“Rothbart takes all my powers away, and doesn’t gove me anything. So I moved into the Cloud Kingdom, and I needed to live all by my own.But luckily I had some animals to speak to me.”
Rothbart came every single day to check on the Cloud Princess, but eventually she fought back to get more powers. The world changed and all the trees were dark around her…and there was no pollution in the air. the Cloud Princess and stopped all the pollution.
Ellie (the Cloud Princess) said, “Bye-bye” to the Cloud Elephant, and ran off to find the Crystal of Love. She told them about a wand, and a ring of love, lying in the dark depths of despair. To find the Crystal of Love, Kindness, and Helpfulness you must go there.
“Remember,” she said.
“The Crystal of Love, is the more important than all the kindness in the world!”
I’m a poet and I know it
So the caffeine tells me
Long hours behind the
Screen,
Coffee cups clattering and
Releasing the muse, y’know
We share a bed and pajamas
And a toothbrush, to keep the
Costs down, because
I’m a poet and I know it
I spend my days behind the
Books, who feed me new ideas
And a chance to share with the
Muse on the loo.
Art magazines and greasy poetry
fill the void, if you can
mind the smell, because
I’m a poet and I know it
Mornings are the worst,
wiping away sleep and trying
to keep the cats from my bowl.
I stick to the thick book,
plastered to my chair, with last nights
spree of sex and hair.
I’m not that bothered, and who should
be with an army cats, and a litter of
books that swamp the shitter, because
I’m a poet and I know it
Days run away from me, like a
giddy spastic. Today I kicked a
cat up the arse, to get to my mug
of plastic. I don’t think
much of the kitchen, and the
bombed out sink I live in, because
I’m a poet and I know it
Remember these words, when you’re
next on the john, expressing an idea
That’s yet to come loose.
No one can keep up
with life in general or the
joy you’re meant to find. Britney
Told me this from the Playboy, before
I could kiss her goodbye, because
I’m a poet and I know it
PhilosopherPoet
Generally I’m very easy to please…most of the time requiring three things:
Yes…I’m a caffeine addict. When it’s not Pepsi in summer, then coffee in winter normally does the trick. People who know me well might argue that my brain spins fast enough. I happen to disagree. Everyone finds their pet love in life and lets it rip…on one condition (that it doesn’t kill you). It’s mostly the things that kill us…that we are drawn to sex, death, money, alcohol and drugs. It might sound like I’m contradicting myself, but sex and death can be fatal.
Firstly I can’t remember the term, but some teenagers try to hang themselves by jerking off…and then if they are lucky enough to live through school and college…they will good on to sell life insurance to the very people that raised them. It’s rather fitting isn’t it? You give birth to kids, so they can pop you off when they get financially and emotionally comfortable. Life does seem to have it’s quirks. Going back to my initial point…I try to stay away from things that are more likely to kill me and/or my brain.
Coming back home from the local store, I didn’t waste any time. As soon as I got home I placed my posterior on my worn chair (in front of my computer). I proceeded to grab a snack, pour myself a lovely cold glass of Pepsi. Caffeine O caffeine! I love the hit of it. I enjoy the feeling of being 100% wired, and conscious. Obviously now and again I’ll grab a beer with some mates. But give me the sweet taste of caffeine, any day.
There’s one downside to caffeine…it doesn’t make you live as long. And I have an argument against that as well. Coffee keeps you alert, you talk and act faster. Therefore it’s not a sin if you don’t live as long, because you’re doing double the amount of stuff a normal person would, so that cancels out the previous fact. In mathematical term it’s the same as saying:
My Life – (Coffee ending it sooner) + (the amount of things that I get done) = Date of Death.
If that confuses you further think about it this way…if you take away the same amount you’re going to give back moments later…The result will stay the same. So now that I’ve justified a short and fulfilled life…I can sleep tonight, lol 
PhilosopherPoet 
ive got to keep on holding on to this keyboard and the life that lives and leaves me the black plastic keyboard gathers into my frown brown hands making a small mould for me makes it all feel like a dream with the keys pressed into my palms and the software staring through my rapid face im a simple king of my emotions, they crowd me now look for a face between the pages of roughly hewn software spitshitting my pages between brackets and hemidemisemi colons who themselves are
nervous of the cursor
but then back to the main page where i can at least breathe without an emotional choke and squeal from it you see i feel to good like that strutting out in the rough public who seem to throw a few glares and bulleted comments numbered by rage and date
again
maybe its me hiding behind that nervous cigarette held in my smooth fingers ive always been good with the smoke that drapes you across the room itll listen when you get close enough to speak and then once a mutter escapes it splashbackflashes like a firstime shy girl whose not meant for the show tonight
she will at least watch me
through the vital light and nervousness that crowds and irritates her curtain hair and fatalashes look at me will it ever last through the game and my bleak sense of interest a predicted momentum and almost just about ready to leap into the shadows smoke and darknavy part of her dress that
not many of us have talked about yet because the rest of the show seemed so much more muddled and interesting to the pie lit eyes and bakery faces cooking under those fragile dance lights that catch up with the rhythm laced into her loins lying along the rest of us in jokes beer crackedcans tenderjeers soberyears coke pulse and leftover smoke coming from me and
the keys i pressed
PhilosopherPoet
i closed a coffin today,
it was black with
wires of time inside
its burnt body
it lay on the floor
the silver fan
(cooling its heart)
Stopped and sighed
It lay in the warmth
Of my own curiosity
i was more technology than
this carcass, splayed before
me and the wooden desk
i could get off the floor
crawl away from the slow
undergrowth – over
our lives.
i wept more for the
numb life hiding in
the cage and its brain
my tears fell out
so did the battery
PhilosopherPoet
Over the weekend, I came to this realization by watching a BBC documentary on Ancient Rome, and then the classic movie 300 (for the umpteenth time). I’ve always been fascinated with the Roman Era. The reason is it’s a period of history that seems so close to our own. Okay, nowadays we’re not exactly watching people get thrown to the lions…and to me it was the birth of thinking. They tried to be as civilized as possible, and in doing so brought forward many ideas, theories and religions that would later be boosted a couple hundred years later in the Renaissance.
Call me the historian now…but think about it, if the Roman Empire didn’t exist (this includes all the thinkers, philosophers, scientists, scholars, and activists of that period) would there still be a Renaissance? Many say that the 1600-1700s was a time of rebirth in knowledge, although it was more an uncovering of past ideas and thinking. This is not to say that there weren’t new discoveries, but I see the Renaissance as a whole lot of people stopping themselves and saying, “Holy crap, there’s so much to build on in the past! We better get started and make the most out of our generation…”
Moving on, I think that we a lot to thank the Roman’s for. They were ahead of their time. Okay, they didn’t exactly have the internet, automobiles, and a Starbucks around every corner, but they did begin what the rest of mankind would continue to build on. The only regret (I have) of the Roman rule, was the institutionalization of Christianity with Emperor Constantinople, deciding that slaying a few pagans in the name of God…isn’t such a bad idea.
(Anyway, I won’t get started on that train of thought just yet.) For those who are interested the documentary I mentioned, it’s called BBC: The Rise and Fall on the Roman Empire.
If you’re into history…I highly recommend it!
PhilosopherPoet
I was reading a really interesting book today. It was on Blogs…although not written by a blogger. If I remember correctly, it was called Ultimate Blogging. It was an analysis of blogs, written by a woman who is a fan of them. It went on to say that according to Technorati.com there are about 80 million blogs out there, 16.6 million of which are active. I was stumped by this statistic…that’s a huge…to think that there are that many people ranting, discussing, researching, advertising, and publishing on such a wide scale!
When I’ve certainly got the blogging gene, at the same time it’s not for everyone. Some journalists still admit that they haven’t got the hang of the blog format. Anyway I find it a wonderful escape, and opportunity to voice what I think and feel to whoever may be listening. Also, it’s a form of publishing, that can sometimes give opinionated people the chance to blow off steam.
Why would I recommend it?
It’s a form of online sharing, and expression. I know that if you are a writer (of any kind), blogging will help you become braver and also grow your writing. I’ve always been lazy to keep a journal…I did it out of diligence for a while in school…but nowadays I just can’t. If I need to talk through my problems, I’ll go to a therapist, and sort it out there. Blogging gives me motivation to go and explore more blogs (and ideas) that distribute it to the masses. I also have the habit of posting links that readers may find interesting. Technically this isn’t adding anything back into the blogosphere, but my opinion is that if I’ve found something interesting…there’ll be someone else who also does.
Again, I’m blogging about blogging…just in case someone out there may find it. So long Writers and Blog-o-maniacs!
PhilosopherPoet
