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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 upon 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 upon 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.

(Source: hookersorcake)

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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 upon 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 upon 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
Text

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

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Life is a dance between a giant birthday cake and a little chihuahua. The chihuahua eats the entire cake, gets sick and throws up. The chihuahua then eats up all the vomit, gets sick again and pukes it all up again. This goes on and on, the tiny dog eating all the barf and throwing it up again and again until the dog gets old and dies.
Happy Birthday!

Life is a dance between a giant birthday cake and a little chihuahua. The chihuahua eats the entire cake, gets sick and throws up. The chihuahua then eats up all the vomit, gets sick again and pukes it all up again. This goes on and on, the tiny dog eating all the barf and throwing it up again and again until the dog gets old and dies.

Happy Birthday!

Tags: prose
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How much does a tree costone like this big oak
How much for birdsongis there a group rate
Do we rent the sunrisesor lease to ownIs the sunset included
How much for a motherone that doesn’t run awayor a father hiding from everythingyears of unanswered questions
How much for the mystery
How much do you pay until you realizeif you don’t like the storyyou’re free to write your own

How much does a tree cost
one like this big oak

How much for birdsong
is there a group rate

Do we rent the sunrises
or lease to own
Is the sunset included

How much for a mother
one that doesn’t run away
or a father hiding from everything
years of unanswered questions

How much for the mystery

How much do you pay
until you realize
if you don’t like the story
you’re free to write your own

Tags: Poetry
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A splendid blog! Old Erotic Art

A splendid blog! Old Erotic Art