SUCKY POETS SOCIETY

Exile

captain boolsheet — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 23:21:08 +0000

i wake up mid night
with beads of sweat on my forehead
my mind in a whirlpool of thoughts
that almost prick the inside of my head
this uncalming feeling… why?
i lie here, on a velvet pillow
draped in soft cotton, wearing strings of pearl
my wife sleeps soundly, my son
his breathing peaceful like a gentle breeze
his eyes closed innocent, his cheeks
glow, in contentment
nothing bothers him, yet why?
why is it not the same for all…
for the others…?
what lies outside my palace walls…
that which is i know not of…
even know not how to name
why did the gray man frown so? his wrinkled face
bent forward close to his stick, his forehead creased
into letters incomprehensible
why did the elderly woman cry, as the four men bore
the figure on the bier to the river-bank
why were her eyes wet, what kind of… pain was she in?
what kind of world do they know, that i am not part of..
why did the lean boy shiver, under the wooden shed?
wrapped in a thin shawl, as it rained outside
why does he not know the same… comfort.. that my son does
or why do we not know.. the same pain that he did?
my chest now burns, with a strange fire
i must find the answer
to these questions, that now surround me
or else this world that i do exist in
is only as good as a dream unfelt,
unlived in
a life, but without the seeds that sprout in the spring
to bring us confirmation of the brahma within
i must go
i must seek
if i do return, it will not be without answers

dunno what i was gonna call it…

captain boolsheet — Sun, 27 Apr 2008 09:13:03 +0000

predate by several months…

prolonged sniffs and snooty coughs
gray air and drizzling tears
ragged boots and faded jeans
moving background of fallen greens
tired ugly portland skies
dreams of blazing newyork highs
slice the apple into two
william tell was hungry too
al gore took the goddam year
mary fucking christmas drawing near
colored graffiti hanging noose
billy kid is running loose
last repose or gitting laid
cant count you in if you aint paid
gothic tales of angels pure
violated to be sure
time to say goodbyenow
shut your crap and take a bow

Will it ever end?

oblivion — Fri, 01 Feb 2008 15:46:50 +0000

People have come and gone.
Though i remain the same
Through the burnt bridges and broken pathways
I walk beside no one
Beside no one

No one to rest upon
Not a soul to hold
We only care of ourselves
And no one else
No one else

Else we would be happy eternally
And we can’t seem to find that
As why would life be pointless otherwise
Such a mystery
A sad sad mystery

Mystery in my eyes
That sense of confusion that has solidified
Not a soul to find laugh forever with
Forever with

With these evergreen questions
Which we walk in search of for answers
Will it ever end?
Will it ever find an end

End this now, right fucking now
You tell me, will it ever end
Oh semi-schiophrenic mind
Tell me please
Will you ever find peace?
Will you ever find peace?

SE Homeless Blvd

captain boolsheet — Fri, 17 Aug 2007 06:21:27 +0000

will see you out tonight
on homeless boulevard
we’ll make sand sludgie soup for breakfast
and teen foil macaroni roll for appetizers
its been raining all week on the terraced hills
those tied-twig-fences just not doing the trick
we’ll sit down on the edge of this cold ass curb
and dream of romantic vacation spots
ponds of thatched roof and mud brick
not worth thinking about
a narrow dirt path is still good for bicyles
we’ll lick some moonshine for dessert
when the sky clears up
till then, we just sit and wait
and wish we was home
just sit on a cold ass curb
out on homeless boulevard

…

ayerhs — Thu, 07 Jun 2007 21:38:11 +0000

Amidst songs of summer rain
Adrift on tiny vessels of time
Voices come sailing

Melody wisps threading through her,
The night sings from her bleeding depths

I stand here and gaze
As a myriad fireflies spangle her bosom
A story in the beat of their wings
And whispering in wrinkles and kisses
Petals pink and blue fly into her twinkling embrace

There’s music in the air tonight
There are keys falling all around

I stand here and gaze
Of sailing voices and fluttering petals
Is your gossamer caress
Lifts me from my blind slumber
And lets me drink thy sweet waters of fireflies
It’s rich with stories untold
A sip from their enchanting chalice
And now, in my veins your song flows

Watch me dear night
As in your song I gather winking keys
Your song in me, my only, my once
Watch me dear night
As again and again
In your endless cradle, I dance.

losing what…

captain boolsheet — Sat, 02 Jun 2007 23:07:11 +0000

feel like i’m losing myself
dont see nothing at all
is this true or a dream
does anything matter…

feel like i’m losing myself
why dont you stop screaming
nobody seems to listen…
no one else matters

feel like i’m losing myself
the world never seems to pause
axles and wheels keep grinding
a noise wall shatters

feel like i’m losing myself
sand slips right through my skin
somebody come to my rescue
and breath life back into my veins

these sick dreams, blow them away
breath life back into my veins…

"nothing seems real, i’m starting to feel
lost in the haze of a dream…"
DT, Scenes from a memory

pray

oblivion — Wed, 30 May 2007 17:57:14 +0000

Pray for an answer
to why your quesions never go away

Away sky gets blacker
cause you never let your sun shine

Shine like that diamond
hold it close and never let it fade

Fade away; you bright sky
illumated , you burn my eyes
hear the sounds break free
free from your percieved reality

Pray for the night
Pray to your sky
Pray it won’t ever let men come out and fly

In the darkness everthing is beautiful
and grey seems to be whiter than white
Take this light , show him where he’s wrong
He won’t pray cause his morning has already come

Fade away; you bright sky
illumated , you burn my eyes
hear the sounds break free
free from your percieved reality

hedge

captain boolsheet — Thu, 22 Mar 2007 12:53:34 +0000

he sleeps inside the bushes
lays his head against the ground
whispers to the grass
stares at the leaves above

he is friends with the ants
shares food with them too
would like a banana of his own
and a kingdom for lunch at noon

he smokes cheap cigarrettes
and drinks the dripping rain
he talks to the squirrels
about existential pain

his god is no almighty
wont kill at his request
his mood is crisp and wafer-like
his beliefs are strips of cheese

he shrivels with the hibiscus petals
hugs the cold ground tight
he wont sleep till tomorrow
cuz he never sleeps at night

lost keys

captain boolsheet — Sun, 31 Dec 2006 06:01:51 +0000

what’s the price of this make-believe security
which i contemplate sitting on a toiletseat
of this 8 by 6 bathroom, shower and tub
cleaned every week by a half-mexican custodian
what did i pay
and how
if not me, who did
i feel sick dave, your weed is too good for me
i swear i’ll give up cigarrettes
confused
reclined on a 7 by 3 sofa, stare at the TV, its not mine
what should i watch
mutilated hands of a diamond miner in sierra leone
wet, rotting bodies in banda aceh
taped to be shown again and again on history channel
the reporters’ efforts shall not go wasted
there’s all on TV
glories of human achievement as contemplated by stephen hawkins
eating disorders of dennis quaid
just sit and stare
voyeurized
by graceful hip-swings of perfect bodies
traumatized
by middle-aged women using facial-hair-clippers
"it made no sense, us watching hollywood movies back home"
"and now you’re here, isnt that wonderful"
just another disgruntled consumer of beef jerky and beer
a victim of sweet romantic words
and pseudo-intellectual cogitation
just another reclusive sociopath
just another catatonic bathroom philospher

more movies

captain boolsheet — Sun, 10 Dec 2006 18:00:43 +0000

this wasnt supposed to be, was it
why? this never happened in movies
how shall i deal with this now
i never seen this in my movies
i need ta watch more of em
i need to learn what to feel like

take a tall glass with 1/3rd of whisky
2/3rd soda, leave space for two cubes of ice
dad said johnny walker’s is the best whisky in the world
i’m tired of dressing up
like the hindi-movie-heroes of your times, dad
i dont think it make me look decent anymore
i have my own movie-looks to copy

you said 555 cigarrettes are the best
but you’ve let me down now, i discovered camels are much better
i think even yak is better, dad
stop judging me by what cigarrettes i smoke
or what shirt i wear,
how many times must i explain
your movie heroes, your idols have grown old
they dont twist their hips and sync their lips anymore
they are swollen and sit at the back row of movie-awards now
didnt i tell you, i have my own movie looks to follow
i gotta be more wes-ter-nised dad
its not me, its just the movies i watched growing up
but seriously, i think i’m cooler
you oughtta watch american movies more often, dad
then you’ll understand
why i dress up as i do

dad, this aint no ramayan or mahabharat
let’s stop acting priggish
dad, let’s raise our hands in the air
and give in, this cultural war
let’s be defeated, our worthless values based on your 60s and 70s hindi movies
let’s be won over and colonised, so that i can get my new cool jeans
those new SF jeans torn at the knee and the crotch
seriously, dad i think they are cool

buddy, we need a revolution
cuz i need more imported beer
i need more bangkok leather shoes with tags of made in italy
and t-shirts and jackets made in the underbelly of indrachowk
that copy the latest LA street swing
buddy, we need a big revolution
i want more big-breasted ladies to pose on the front of my magazines
i want more scams and celebrity hook-ups to make my life more interesting
buddy, we need ta burn those libraries cuz we need change in our values
let’s get done over with that past generation
let’s wipe out their backwardness
we need to burn down their houses and libraries
because i am "a free man", as they say
no wait, i am my own hindi-movie hero
an updated version of their self-righteousss nitwit clone
hollywood-rip-off-imagination of a hindi-movie producer
i have become the consciousness
of the more recent time-of-my-life hindi-movie heero

i need more movies
i dont know how to react to this anymore
i am puzzled aghast
i need some serious tutoring sessions in "feeeling"
i need the old comfort of my soft-porn hindi-movie-song videos
help, i want my movies
cuz i dont know what to feel anymore