Monday, May 05, 2008
.
I've been writing what may be a book for maybe a couple months now. I don't see an end to it. Or, I don't feel an end to it. Not that that's really important, but maybe it's necessary. I don't know. Anyway, I'm posting this section that I wrote today from the untitled book in hopes of maybe sabotaging myself. Either the book will end because I went and showed a part of it (because I have often ruined something by showing it too early), or it'll be recognized as a stand-in for a real book (a fraud). Whatever. Here's a time-stamped poem from some fucking stupid ass book I'm writing. I know for sure it's not as good as the last one I wrote. But whatever:
Eight bells rung
EIGHT BELLES is down
we ran
a tight race
on cracking ankles angling in
the finish line like fish on it
were tripping
up themselves
on baitless hooks because baitless hooks
were
THE END—
the Where we’re supposed to get
gathering the nails
in my feet,
EIGHT BELLES,
for remembrance of the EARTH
and place-
ment
and the race
we’re in
a whole planet
ready to be
shot
for pulling up LAME.
I already cannot
rest myself
for a splinting
I haven’t a LEG to stand on
the splintering of my bones
happened
at the starting gate
or with the whipping
perhaps the torture
of another 4 years
of some politician
.........I can’t recall
...............my bells are ringing
...............the horns were sounding
...............the crowds are cheering
...............and my legs did fail
specifically my ankles
...which will break
...andcrumple
like papier-mâché
I was never meant
to capture the lead
the led in my teeth from all that cotton candy
and caramel
and neglect
a season of soap operas
and a season in the sun
tastes like second place
I’m made out of br i tt le
I’ll squeal for a meal
a trough
THE DEATH OF ME
FINISHING FIRST
.....a trainer
.....to beat me
.....into
.....submission
...............I only WANT to win
but a brushing
is often
nice
If I were in Kentucky I would have made
a wheelchair
for broken horsies
all ready
where’s the spoils
for a slight victory? Why must you
feel this need to put a bullet
in the back of my head?
Or would you kill me with a sledge hammer?
Wouldn’t it be neater
just to put
too many sleeping pills
in my feed?
Why must I hear the bells ring?
They don’t tell you this in Sunday School,
but that’s the sound of
angels screaming,
not the sound
of giggling
bellies.
What would you have done
if I finished first?
With my
deterioration?
My EIGHT BELLES
of the ball
we are
merely
past
and this is no PROM
and, sadly, I had no money
for yr corsage.
And I hate to disappoint
so many
with how cheap I am.
What could we have done
to make it last?
Not begun?
The choice is placed
in the sound
of a
gun.
.............................My kingdom,
.............................for a horse.
..........“She ran the race of her
..........life. She went
..........out
..........in glory.”
..........“She didn’t get
..........bumped.”
..........“She’s our family.”
...
¶ 11:12 PM
I've been writing what may be a book for maybe a couple months now. I don't see an end to it. Or, I don't feel an end to it. Not that that's really important, but maybe it's necessary. I don't know. Anyway, I'm posting this section that I wrote today from the untitled book in hopes of maybe sabotaging myself. Either the book will end because I went and showed a part of it (because I have often ruined something by showing it too early), or it'll be recognized as a stand-in for a real book (a fraud). Whatever. Here's a time-stamped poem from some fucking stupid ass book I'm writing. I know for sure it's not as good as the last one I wrote. But whatever:
Eight bells rung
EIGHT BELLES is down
we ran
a tight race
on cracking ankles angling in
the finish line like fish on it
were tripping
up themselves
on baitless hooks because baitless hooks
were
THE END—
the Where we’re supposed to get
gathering the nails
in my feet,
EIGHT BELLES,
for remembrance of the EARTH
and place-
ment
SOME KIND OF
MANAGEMENT
MANAGEMENT
and the race
we’re in
a whole planet
ready to be
shot
for pulling up LAME.
I already cannot
rest myself
for a splinting
I haven’t a LEG to stand on
the splintering of my bones
happened
at the starting gate
or with the whipping
perhaps the torture
of another 4 years
of some politician
.........I can’t recall
...............my bells are ringing
...............the horns were sounding
...............the crowds are cheering
...............and my legs did fail
specifically my ankles
...which will break
...andcrumple
like papier-mâché
I was never meant
to capture the lead
the led in my teeth from all that cotton candy
and caramel
and neglect
a season of soap operas
and a season in the sun
tastes like second place
I’m made out of br i tt le
I’ll squeal for a meal
a trough
THE DEATH OF ME
FINISHING FIRST
.....a trainer
.....to beat me
.....into
.....submission
...............I only WANT to win
but a brushing
is often
nice
If I were in Kentucky I would have made
a wheelchair
for broken horsies
all ready
where’s the spoils
for a slight victory? Why must you
feel this need to put a bullet
in the back of my head?
Or would you kill me with a sledge hammer?
Wouldn’t it be neater
just to put
too many sleeping pills
in my feed?
Why must I hear the bells ring?
They don’t tell you this in Sunday School,
but that’s the sound of
angels screaming,
not the sound
of giggling
bellies.
What would you have done
if I finished first?
With my
deterioration?
My EIGHT BELLES
of the ball
we are
merely
past
and this is no PROM
and, sadly, I had no money
for yr corsage.
And I hate to disappoint
so many
with how cheap I am.
What could we have done
to make it last?
Not begun?
The choice is placed
in the sound
of a
gun.
MY KINGDOM FOR A HORSERACE!
.............................My kingdom,
.............................for a horse.
..........“She ran the race of her
..........life. She went
..........out
..........in glory.”
..........“She didn’t get
..........bumped.”
..........“She’s our family.”
...
¶ 11:12 PM
Comments:
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give us more!
On a sidenote, I didn't notice your message until about half an hour ago. I fucking blew it
On a sidenote, I didn't notice your message until about half an hour ago. I fucking blew it
i would have to say that except for the really really terrible ending and the complete lack of a story line, iron man was pretty good.
um.
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