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The Charge of the Light Brigade
The old Colonel is trappedagainst the bakery casein front of the Grand Cafehalf a league from the casino floor
The slot machines cry out, they beckonbut the Col’s electric wheelchair is brokenfront wheel stuck in the rut of timeupon his steed he charges again and again
“Onward! To the slots,” he shoutsbut he only bumps into the curved glassin front of the rockslide browniesnext to the snickerdoodle cheesecake
Wrapped in his stained blue blanketHe rears back, undauntedthis time, surely he will break freeand the super jackpot will be defeated
Meanwhile the ghost of his ex-wifehaunts the 24 hour bingo parlorshooting bloody red splotchesacross six pages of numbers
Puffing Capri 120sJust one more numberalways one number awayfrom victory, from freedomfrom one more buffet
And then perhaps a nap
Ours is not to question whyours is only to do and dieBehold!The American dream consummatedin the sands of Las Vegas

The Charge of the Light Brigade

The old Colonel is trapped
against the bakery case
in front of the Grand Cafe
half a league from the casino floor

The slot machines cry out, they beckon
but the Col’s electric wheelchair is broken
front wheel stuck in the rut of time
upon his steed he charges again and again

“Onward! To the slots,” he shouts
but he only bumps into the curved glass
in front of the rockslide brownies
next to the snickerdoodle cheesecake

Wrapped in his stained blue blanket
He rears back, undaunted
this time, surely he will break free
and the super jackpot will be defeated

Meanwhile the ghost of his ex-wife
haunts the 24 hour bingo parlor
shooting bloody red splotches
across six pages of numbers

Puffing Capri 120s
Just one more number
always one number away
from victory, from freedom
from one more buffet

And then perhaps a nap

Ours is not to question why
ours is only to do and die
Behold!
The American dream consummated
in the sands of Las Vegas

Photoset

rrrick: By special request…

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Anonymous asked: You're so incredibly sexy I can barely stand it. I want to drink you.

Rrrick you don’t have to be on anon! Christ has risen! Its 2014! We can be public with our love.

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360 degree view from my 21st floor suite
Out of darkness Las Vegas bloomsa ridiculous neon flowerattracting every sugar soakedbuzzing fantasy
Everywhere I look I’m tauntedby the illusion of instant fulfillment
the taste of electric skinthe sounds of winningthe nostril flaring fuckof power and incessant sex
Jackpot!
Hell, right now I’d settle for losingrather than the winningbe exposed as the tedious scamit always is
In the end the desertcrawls another mile into silencethe wind erases the sheenthe sun exposes everything
the sands of time glitterlike fools goldlike the seductive notion  that winning and losingare two different things

360 degree view from my 21st floor suite

Out of darkness Las Vegas blooms
a ridiculous neon flower
attracting every sugar soaked
buzzing fantasy

Everywhere I look I’m taunted
by the illusion of instant fulfillment

the taste of electric skin
the sounds of winning
the nostril flaring fuck
of power and incessant sex

Jackpot!

Hell, right now I’d settle for losing
rather than the winning
be exposed as the tedious scam
it always is

In the end the desert
crawls another mile into silence
the wind erases the sheen
the sun exposes everything

the sands of time glitter
like fools gold
like the seductive notion 
that winning and losing
are two different things

Tags: poetry selfie
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After three days in the desert I asked the dream owl. It wasn’t a question so much as it was a prayer, so much as it was a song.
How long does our love need to wander, searching for water, until it finds itself an eternal spring. How lonely do we have to get before we realize we’ve never been alone?
It was high noon when the owl answered me in the middle of the casino. In front of everyone its black shadow glittered across me, tore me open and I sang an aria of bloody grief. The slot machines cried out in unison and everybody won, even the losers. Especially the losers. After all, they were the only ones who knew how to win.

After three days in the desert I asked the dream owl. It wasn’t a question so much as it was a prayer, so much as it was a song.

How long does our love need to wander, searching for water, until it finds itself an eternal spring. How lonely do we have to get before we realize we’ve never been alone?

It was high noon when the owl answered me in the middle of the casino. In front of everyone its black shadow glittered across me, tore me open and I sang an aria of bloody grief. The slot machines cried out in unison and everybody won, even the losers. Especially the losers. After all, they were the only ones who knew how to win.

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Mothers Day is just around the corner!

Mothers Day is just around the corner!

(via jimmythemustascheman)

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You think your pain makes you specialso you lug it aroundyour whole life
No one understandsyour sufferingso you explain
endless
to anyoneand everyonewho will listen
The real tragedy isno one gives a fuckand once you’ve outlivedyour fuckability
You’re out of luckand truly fucked
you’d better brush up your marketabilityget richmaybe become some kind of artist
lest your church of self worship close up shopand you become a gloriously worthlessregular old beautiful human beingwith nothing to sell

You think your pain makes you special
so you lug it around
your whole life

No one understands
your suffering
so you explain

endless

to anyone
and everyone
who will listen

The real tragedy is
no one gives a fuck
and once you’ve outlived
your fuckability

You’re out of luck
and truly fucked

you’d better brush up your marketability
get rich
maybe become some kind of artist

lest your church of self worship close up shop
and you become a gloriously worthless
regular old beautiful human being
with nothing to sell

Tags: poetry freedom
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Anonymous asked: I feel so fortunate to have found your blog. I don't know if this makes sense, but the way you write is the way thoughts sound in my head.

Hey Thanks! Yeah, I just write the thoughts traveling through my head/heart. Where they come from I dunno. The trees, earth, stars, or the great water perhaps. And we’re all the same inside. This strange hopeful flesh, eating cereal and watching it all come down. Our bones imbued with ancient music and used car commercials. Sacred clearance sales suckling love, looking for just the right fit. It’s fun, terrifying and often boring.

Glad we can keep each other company in this… whatever this is.

Thanks again - Jade

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I got a dream recorder for my birthday, it’s an endlessly fascinating machine. This morning at work I’m looking at last nights dream on my laptop. I’m not quite sure what to make of it.
In my dream I wander the streets of the small town I grew up in until I become a wandering stream. No one pays any attention to me as I grow larger. Even as I grow wild and raging. Even as I overflow my banks and I submerge the entire town, drowning everyone in my tears.
A great hawk flies down and plucks me from the lake town, but when I look to see exactly what the hawk is clutching all I see is my new dream recorder. The hawk then drops me into a warehouse with a bunch of other dream recording machines. We all fall into tight stacks like magnets, growing heavy and dark, heavier and darker until the weight is unbearable. We begin to collapse into each other and fall backwards through the floor and when it feels like we can fall no more we burst into flame. We are the sun, rolling boiling fire.
I am a plume of flame belched deep into outer space. I’m shooting towards earth at a ridiculous speed. Diving towards Florida through the roof of my house, into my own human head that lies asleep in my bed with my wife. I watch myself wake up and hit pause on my dream machine. I watch myself shower and get ready for work. Kiss my wife and wrestle with my dog. I see myself drive to work in the winding rivers of traffic until I arrive at my office.
Now I’m watching myself watch myself. Watching myself on my dream machine feed, falling in love with everything.
Sometimes I wonder about all of this. Sometimes I hit pause on my machine and float like a blue diamond hum rolling in the blackness. Rolling as the entire cosmos with you and me, this everything. There is no other. Sometimes I hit play and honk at you at a green light. “Get the hell outta my way!” I yell. Sometimes we fuck and kill each other. Sometimes we ignore each other for years. Sometimes we worry and fret about the silliest cutest little things. Sometimes we are nothing and everything and there is no fear and no death, just this, just this, just this.

I got a dream recorder for my birthday, it’s an endlessly fascinating machine. This morning at work I’m looking at last nights dream on my laptop. I’m not quite sure what to make of it.

In my dream I wander the streets of the small town I grew up in until I become a wandering stream. No one pays any attention to me as I grow larger. Even as I grow wild and raging. Even as I overflow my banks and I submerge the entire town, drowning everyone in my tears.

A great hawk flies down and plucks me from the lake town, but when I look to see exactly what the hawk is clutching all I see is my new dream recorder. The hawk then drops me into a warehouse with a bunch of other dream recording machines. We all fall into tight stacks like magnets, growing heavy and dark, heavier and darker until the weight is unbearable. We begin to collapse into each other and fall backwards through the floor and when it feels like we can fall no more we burst into flame. We are the sun, rolling boiling fire.

I am a plume of flame belched deep into outer space. I’m shooting towards earth at a ridiculous speed. Diving towards Florida through the roof of my house, into my own human head that lies asleep in my bed with my wife. I watch myself wake up and hit pause on my dream machine. I watch myself shower and get ready for work. Kiss my wife and wrestle with my dog. I see myself drive to work in the winding rivers of traffic until I arrive at my office.

Now I’m watching myself watch myself. Watching myself on my dream machine feed, falling in love with everything.

Sometimes I wonder about all of this. Sometimes I hit pause on my machine and float like a blue diamond hum rolling in the blackness. Rolling as the entire cosmos with you and me, this everything. There is no other. Sometimes I hit play and honk at you at a green light. “Get the hell outta my way!” I yell. Sometimes we fuck and kill each other. Sometimes we ignore each other for years. Sometimes we worry and fret about the silliest cutest little things. Sometimes we are nothing and everything and there is no fear and no death, just this, just this, just this.

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Alice In Wonderland by Nicole Eisenman

Alice In Wonderland by Nicole Eisenman