they do! been inspired to write about writing and art since i’ve been diving deeper into the works of Charlie Kaufman. i literally looked up shades of brown and they’re names and they were meh so here ya go lol
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.
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all shades of brown sound ugly
i used to think in quartets
now theyre everywhere
and after three laps around merrion square
wild suffering
writers blocking the way
paving the way for destruction
nothing is happening
the writers make the nothing into everything
in a movie where nothing happens
tomatoes rot and stain your original mind
look for it
the art is within the banal
we drown in singing voices
the better the voice, the deeper
maybe the best songs are buried in the ugliest of singers
and yet the trees keep changing their look deciduously
yet no choice
but to keep telling this story
theres no foliage of paper
you just keep turning
and the writer writes
as though willpower is the only way to overcome the robots
and coffee with extra sugar
two cubes
24 May 2020
when, now
when, now
the peace disturbed by my sanity
your clock is ticking
tickticktickticking
searching
researching
the banality of greatness
boredom and other attributes of me
to you
i am no longer caught in the past
those purple golden lights can no longer entice me
with crystal clear eyes i pierce through the dark
beaming yellow
staring at the mirror now the fog has cleared up
30 Apr 2020
foggy age
foggy age
the sounds fade away
fatigue crawling up to my eyes
words in clusters dont make sense
the simple soul songs
working class folk songs with easy repetitions
smooth chord progressions
classic guitar
lets sing along
the masterpieces keep getting printed
in this day and age rampant with “information”
entertainers and writers alike
we claw for art
and yet high art is somewhat foggy
who appreciates the unknown
dreaming of avant garde capitalism
i’m too spoiled to write my poems on the back of fallen leaves
i’m on my phone
airdropping my feelings onto my macbook
recording them
posting them online
gotta make a presence
the artist is isolated and yet so connected
the world does not allow for complete isolation
the writer must live amongst the people
write and tell the tales of those around
one must write
one must create
one must put forth his writing
one must keep writing
speak to an audience
while in my creative coccoon
where no one can influence
unless i let them
in this coccoon i interact
i socialize
i express
i perform
and in this coccoon i amplify my emotions and carefully spill them
splatter them onto my page
one must keep writing in this foggy age
22 Apr 2020
Unreal City: Citizens Ep. 1: Malika
My good friend Malika joins us for the first episode of Unreal City: Citizens. We talk dolphins, travel, and our friendship.
22 Apr 2020
Tiger King Review!
Audio version from my Youtube video! Just finished watching the Tiger King documentary and just wanted to share my take on it. Enjoy!
21 Apr 2020
ambages
New Poem! Spreading good vibes and good times.//ambages
the ambages tumble all the way to colorado
la and vegas
and lost time zones including hawaii
mostly pain
swimming across oceans
flying through radars
never making it back
jealousy and pettiness
we wrestle aside the uneasiness and compromise
we cant go outside
yet the introspection is minimal
it hurts too much
the ankles cracking we try to find a purpose
no mornings
no weekends either
just mostly mid afternoons
dreamy midafternoons
the sunset reminds me of nostalgia and retrospect
and the romantic ideal
i suppose
16 Apr 2020
what now
what now
sometimes its cold and it feels like the sun never rises here
and yet it does
not so much on the green
much of the city is rubble
not from broken dreams
but broken lives
in search for the dreamless dream
in maniacal psychadelic fashion
the people of this city shed their dreams for the collective dream that is this city
if the famous wall was a mirror
in what shade would it color the ugly reflection
what time of day
for a city so well known for the darkness
which person
cause you can get lost in it too
and that seems to be the charm
yet all is quiet
and the broken lives are left to be picked up by sobering insomniacs
without any names
15 Apr 2020
stop motion mondays
Starting a podcast! I write and record a poem a day so decided to put them in audio format as well! Enjoy! Text to follow/// stop motion mondays
the writing seems bleak
the wall is tapering off
the yellow sticks no longer
the phone calls are not charged
and this connected word seems lonely
at least to me
the dawn sets on darkness and the sun doesnt rise anymore
weve lost our touch
living room to living room
stubbing our toes on musty silence
documentaries and narratives
the prose doesnt flow anymore
weve questioned art and automation
the infinity of infinities
truth
and lack there of
the whiskey messy
we set this night to rest
in another of these flowing moments
we stop while the other walks
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