I used to steal his milk-money,
and hope, but now he has
The spider. Now he's fused
Head and thorax together
Day, or night, in all weather
He controls the spider.
The trigger fish is fast asleep
In an ocean current
Plankton warm then ripen
For this whale's last meal
But the whale knows not
The spider, just the lobster.
An older spider underwater
Good in Maine, and with butter
I want to have the spider
I have to keep the symbol
I must solve this riddle.
I will have the spider.
I should have invested his milk -
- money more appropriately
Now allow me to condescend
Since I am such the arrogant autodidact
A bully full of bullshit
I can't possess the spider
I wish my bravery
Was a little bit wider
Than the highway
I came here upon.
He is tarantula boy
Child born all hair
Look out for fangs
When lights click quick
Shadows race center
To form absolute blackness
Where compound eyes lurk
To nestle you in web,
drained corpses, and
mathematical perfection
I am jealous of the spider
Say "You're not",
and you're a liar.
Here's your milk-money back
Now just let me go fluid-filled
Not one drop lacking...
Jung was right to blame
The spider, I was wrong
To keep inside her.
Author notes
Written June 7th, 2004
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I had this in my bookmarks. I will look stupid if I say anything but- this is way over my head. But great writing!
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oh my you are going to force us to think aren't you. i think i will bookmark this collection, and come back to it. I will also reccommend you to someone else I know who will love your style of poetry.
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You are a friend indeed, and warm going down.
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It was once said of a man just before a barrow of bricks tumbled down on to him that he should be more observant. What facinates me about your work are three things...four really if I counted them all up. Firstly, while some can comment I would think very few actually connect because of the chance of being totally baffled by what you write which is a pity as your writing is a little deeper and a whole lot more interesting and better than the usual cliche or smoke and mirrors we are subjected too. Good writing is good writing and those who like it will always seek it out. Secondly, art has no boundary. That why is is called art. To comment on art is as subjective as the art itself. The interpretation of art is subjective. I don't think it matters if you write about one thing and a person feels they connect on a totally different level. The only time it really becomes frustrating is when the original artist is subjected to an observers spurious beliefs or is in some way lectured by these moronic moments. In other words from an artists point of view, the dog barks at the traffic but the traffic still moves on. Thirdly, subject matter should never be dictated by those not creating it which to some degree the artist's world is full of "A bully full of bullshit" and it is galling, frustrating and it fucks up creativity. This is one of the reasons why you should be read by people who hate you. They hate dangerous people and I am sure many find your work confronting and dangerous when really they should find it like blinding light on a fucking black day. No one could write anything on this site that doesn't look acceptable after reading you. You do all of us a service because it not just dangerous, more often than not its brilliant as well. And fourthly, and probably the most important thing that I would gather people don't get. There is a seam of unmistakable compassion that laces the anger, hate, frustration and overwhelming urge to scream.
For those who don't like you, fuck off, those of us who do, you make us all write better and this is wonderful- I loved it
David
by the way, have a nice day, although Ray Charles dying has put a bit of a damper on that. Looks like it will be Ray Charles and read wine tonight. Like to see David Geffin tell Ray Charles he's may like to tone it down!
Edited on Jun 11, 1:07 because 'usual pile of typos'. -
I wish my bravery
Was a little bit wider
-i like these two lines best. and i see myself in them, somewhat, since my "bravery" scope is kinda limited...and i spend alot of time wishing it werent.
im listening to Remember to Breathe by Dashboard Confessionals, and, it added such a sad tone to this piece, im sure it wasn't ment to, but, it did.
you write well, im glad i found your works.
N... -
Once again I am married with children, happilly.
My acting career Is just starting, and I'm patient
enough and sophisticated enough to do it right
and sensibly, there's no rush, I don't do drugs,
groupies, or people I meet on the internet, I am
in the best mental and physical shape in my life,
and I'm an expert at exposing lunatics before I
allow them into my circle, like what we have here
with you. You're a fraud, shallow, deceptive, undereducated,
lacking manners, discipline, and an overall grasp on
reality. I don't know what fruit truck you rolled off of,
but I'm glad I'm not interested. Why you might ask?
because you're unstable, vindictive, untrustworthy,
and completely out of line. Were you raised by monkeys?
because I can't help but wonder... You have absolutely
no self control, or basis. Are you so incredibly stupid
as to think someone with my ethics and talent, not
to mention awesome loving friends and family would
sacrifice all of that to ass fuck a mouth breathing
treacherous cunt like you? You're funny, dull, a bit
rotund -- but funny. It must really piss you off when
a real man that can see right through you, avoids you?
Proving that's all you have to offer, a set of tits and an IQ
of borderline frozen gerbil? Is it so hard to understand that
there are men out there, granted few wise enough, to avoid
you? Why you persistantly feel the need to strut your stuff
all over my poetry is exactly why, I find you uninteresting.
You are about as challenging as a naked tied up whore
in a frat house? In other words a dime a dozen, last weeks news.
A bad investment, more trouble than you are worth, and
completely predictable. remeber when you asked me for my number
and address? LMAO, see gentlemen, it pays to wait in poker
if you got the hand, and the skill. The losers always, and I mean
always expose their true colors. In other words honey, you really
don't care about me at all, you never did, you actually despise me,
and you're too stupid to even know it. I at least cared enough about you as a human being to always give you a chance to grow up, but you can't. The smart braud would have said "yeah, you know what I know nothing about the movie business, male prostitution, or media moguls, and shut up and listened, but you, no, you are repeatedly stuck on scratched cd, unfixable, dangerous, and... well... about as skank as it gets. -
Can I just say that the way you speak without saying a fucking thing is really rather painful to watch. Do you think for the sake of 'reality' you might possibly take it into your consideration, and form an actual sentence when speaking to me? That way I won't shake my head and pass you off as a total fucking nut job. Also, please refrain from jumping into a conversation that doesn't include you. Because you have no fucking clue what you are talking about. You know about as much about the 'industry' as someone that went to fashion school in San Diego should, which means squat, nada, zip, zero. Here, let me educate you:
A. You wouldn't know what this poem meant if it was pierced through
your nipples and titanium coated.
B. Don't assume that the comments you read are indeed true,
because this is a poetry site, not a free mental health clinic.
C. If you like my poetry now...When you eventually learn how to read and write I guess you'll really love 'em?
D. Please look up the word metaphor, and say "ahhhh duhhhh?"
E. "did you sell your soul for his gold, hmm it crossed my mind, but since i have two, so better luck next time. " This is proof that you should be shot up the ass with the golden bullet of grammar and clarity, because not only does it make no sense, it makes you look mildly retarded. My advice to you would be slow down, shut the fuck up, and listen, you might learn something if you can keep that hum in your vagina from distracting you back into the hamster wheel of your uncontrolable backwards evolution. -
Ahh let the music play and eat whilst you can.. and the collective conscious of us all.. will go out and buy Beth's song and make it a big hit !!!
Shove them others aside and walk like an egyptian.. LOLOLOLOL
~GILL~xxxx -
I love how you said poor without the slightest hint of irony.
He's worth 3 to 5 billion easilly. Ask Laura Nero, Axel Rose, Mike Ovitz
No, I don't hate anybody, I'm just horribly unimpressed by the velvet mafia, and their utter lack of respect for the sanctity in the art of story telling. I think it's disgusting and sad how much money these people make destroying the lives of whom ever exposes them. Barry Diller and David Geffen are redefining the art of power hungry cock cocking by the minute, and between you and I -- I hate seeing narcissistic sociopaths in charge of creating, mixing, and selling the things I depend on. I'd like to see athletes and actors switching paychecks with teachers and dr's. And I'd like to see a truly gifted talent, for once, make it to the limelight without selling their souls first to those two. -
I figured prostitution had to figure in somewhere since it's in your Prostitutes Collection.
David Geffin...always it's David...do you hate the poor guy? -
The whale is David Geffen, The Spider is my subconscious thinga ma bob, and
the milk money is PROSTITUTION with a heaping dash of hep-c marinated in flat pepsi. -
aha....maybe spider as From that disintigration cut, vaginal....Okay, i am going to stop commenting.
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the mathmatical certainty of them winning? and us losing? NOt strength, but patience and relentless organization...this is what prevails? We will eventually fly into one trap or another, locked away. Very intense write, even if elusive to the feeble and underdeveloped mind i possess. I take what i want from it, and what i take impresses me much. great poeme.
the spider's reach is vast as money, comprehensive as power? old wealth. lots of staccatto bursts of understanding...quickly swept away by my next thought. -
Jealous
Forgive me for failing to take the time to pick your metaphorical concoction apart and see what it comprises in minutia, but hell, the title blew me away and my brain is in shock.
I got a sudden brain flash of Doc Savage and Buckaroo Bonzai -- some kind of odd bizarre twist of the eighth dimension (suitable for 8 legs I suppose...is that how they name dimensions?) and I found myself staring at the spider, willing it to move....but I can't control the spider. I could if I had a taser...but I saw Attack of the 50-foot Spider (actually I can't remember the name of that movie) and know that tanks are useless against them....
This is weird. But what the hell. Yours always are, eh? I am jealous of the spider.
Edited on Jun 07, 9:02 p.m. because ''.
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