Even in the midst of the automated
rehydrated
underrated
fires of my mind
I can't sleep under
these conditions
and why should I
filled up with greed and pining
nevermind the winning and the
shining
let alone
the sinning and the dining

writing captions with CAPSLOCK on

Welcome to the Facebook Status, not to be confused with PostSecret.

Well it all goes towards what it is
we're trying to say.

THINGS THAT ARE NOT ENOUGH TO PUT BETWEEN MYSELF AND THIS

What are "my eyelids" ?

O Brother, where art thou?

Die dunkelste Nacht

There are too many secrets
surging through me

and they're not all mine.

There's not enough room for them

and they know that.

It's too cold

(but they don't think so)

and I feed them well.

And I watch them devour 

the death that despises me.

There are too many of them hovering 

over me when I sleep.

And the voices sound like mine.

But the terrors from Hell aren't mine.

And my screams don't even curdle their blood,

they entertain them.

Sometimes I am obscene, and it's

all just entertainment.

But when I attack them in the name of God

I'd like back all the things

I don't deserve, please.

And they whisper lies to me at night.

And they ridicule me at night.

And I need to stay awake.

Oh, Dear Jesus may the

scales of lies be shed from my eyes

that believed them.

The slick and sly and skilled disguise

will not be soon forgotten.

Fight, fight fight fight.

Fight fight fight fight fight. Fight.

Fight fight. Bleed. Fight bleed.

No sleep.

It's won.

And isn't this all so convenient

to have another thing to blame but myself.

"Sounds like a personal problem."

You're right.

Good night, darkest night.

Hoppe hoppe Reiter
wenn er fällt, dann schreit er,
fällt er in den Teich,
find't ihn keinter gleich. 


Hoppe hoppe Reiter
wenn er fällt, dann schreit er,
fällt er in den Graben,
fressen ihn die Raben.


Hoppe hoppe Reiter
wenn er fällt, dann schreit er,
fällt er in den Sumpf,
dann macht der Reiter... Plumps!

Alexis Renee

The day you were born,

so were a lot of other babies.

But I only remember one of them

‘cause my parents brought it back to our house.

It’s a good thing, too, because

you make me laugh harder than most people can laugh,

and laughing is a life-lengthener. So, thanks.

I owe most of my life to you.

You’re not just hilarious, though.

You’re good at lots of stuff.

Like writing (even though you don’t think so),

and playing soccer.

I love that you’re so sentimental.

You kept a bunch of acorns from our old house.

And you still have your baby teeth

(but not in your mouth.)

You kept the last grass Cally ever laid on, too.

I watched you watch her die and you cried

so I cried- just like I did when you told me

about Opa sleeping peacefully because God is awake.

As your older sister, I have a responsibility

to teach you how to do things.

I taught you how to shave your legs.

But you taught me how to use a tampon.

I suppose I have to teach you not to do things, too.

Like smoke. I’m glad that made you angry.

Thank you for caring enough to write

me and Kai those notes.

I’m watching you get older through pictures.

You’re beautiful and I’m missing it.

Did you get your eyebrows done recently?

Hahahahaha! Giggs.

I hope you never stop living a life worth writing about

or forget that better things are coming.

Thanks for standing in the lake with me that day

and for holding my hand under the water.

I’d say you have a heart of gold,

but that’s pretty overused so I’ll say

you have a heart of some other precious metal instead.

I’ll let you know when I think of one that’s good enough.

Something That Means Something

Find the beauty of God. That is an imperative sentence. There are 1,618 characters in this poem. It is still a poem even though there are no line breaks. 1,645 if you include the title. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. That is an example of a sentence that includes every letter of the alphabet. Seven letters make up two words that make up the shortest verse in the Bible. Jesus wept. The Bible is made up of sixty-six books. Somebody said if you understand this verse, you don’t need to read anymore. You will have learned everything. Somebody should say something about when to type numbers like this 3 or like this three. When his character cried, John Barth wrote, “His eyes watered, there aren’t enough ways to say that.” I don’t think many ways are necessary. Near my home there is a church where a large sculpture of Jesus hangs from the ceiling. A proper sentence only needs a subject and a verb to be considered complete. He is just above the congregation and I’m worried He’s going to fall down. Sometimes the subject is understood: (You) Go. (You) Be. He is very large and I do not think those cords will support Him. One should not begin a sentence with a conjunction. But I have a friend who says, “He’s tied up pretty good. I’ve never even seen him sway.” Thank God. It is a common misconception that one should refrain from using a preposition to end a sentence with. He doesn’t even sway. English is one of the most difficult languages to learn. A girl I knew used to say, “May God bless you and keep you forever and ever. Amen.” I wrote used to say because she has since died. She used to say this after a sneeze. Did you feel the cool breeze? That is an interrogative sentence. I suppose she would say it still, were she alive. Please (you) interject with a response. And I suppose she would even still mean it. There are a lot of rules to break here. Everyone wants to [say] [do] [be] something that means something. And when you find it, thank Him for it. 

Take Away

Seldom going on about

The way the rain can speak

To think the count was higher now

Than ever it would peak

To rush around through falling wet

Accompanied by none

And twirling in the loathsome dim

Enchanted by its shun

Mirrored in each dewy piece

Making beauty where it went

And creeping suddenly about

In all the time it spent

Thrashing through the space between

The unbecoming sway

An unimaginable gaze

To take the breath away

The glow surrounding at this point

Was woven by the dawn

And there was no good reason

It should be sung as a song

So ever

That there would be anything

but the breaking of day

to better beg the question,

historically, I know not of it.

The question being, of course,

how to go about this.

I pause never less than a breath

to spring upon the fragments of this,

the unleavened artillery, that perches

sometimes thoughtfully,

sometimes thoughtlessly,

in clouds of space all about my frame.

Impending then, the answer.

So curious it seems to me,

to spend so many hours in pursuit of that

which may not take a form I’d know,

even should I ever come upon it.

Nevertheless, I thought

So ever I’d query

Whatsoever,

Wheresoever,

Howsoever long;

Until I came to there

which may not be.

Lucky it is then,

that I have come to see

that what I seek and what I think

shall never intersect under my command.

For the only thing I know

is that I know no thing

but that contained within

this very phrase.

And with every being out

in search of answers never found,

ought not we be so ever more

concentrated on the questions?

Blessings

From my dear cousin, Ann, to me


I love how God has blessed you

With deep desire for joy.




I love how He has blessed you

With heart that looks for beauty.



I love how He has blessed you

With talents of all sorts.



But first and most of all

I love that He has blessed me

With a cousin fair and lovely,

Who loves me without fail.



No other explanation

Beside the one I claim

Could ever offer evidence

To prove this all unplanned.



God gave us to each other

For reasons oft unseen.



But I love you all the more

Within that mystery.



So, with that in your mind,

Forget not my great love.



But first and most of all,

Forget not ever His.

Speak slowly and carry a big dream.

wake me when it's over.

you
are a film
with breathtaking cinematography
& a mindblowing soundtrack.

it's a shame the dialogue is less than stimulating
& the plot also leaves something to be desired.

watching you,
i fell
in love
into a trap

asleep.

Can you imagine?

Hey Opster.

Today it's been a year since you've left us.
But I know if I saw you now, the first thing you'd say is
"Howdy doody!"
And you'd tell me about all the phenomenal things you've seen
since we spoke last.
And you'd ask,
"Can you imagine???"

You know, I only knew you for 22% of your life.
But, at the time, you knew me for all of mine...
so it's okay.

I'd expect you're still wearing that same brown vest everyday
with your York Dukes baseball cap.
But I'll bet you don't worry about dangerous fungus

taking over the world anymore.
Or the Russians.
We still hear the shuffling of your slippers around the house.
It's not that creepy. We kind of like it.
I will still always expect there to be a puzzle in progress on your table
and it will always be "Opa's room."
Your rooms were always my favorite rooms.
I don't think I will ever feel as comfortable anywhere as long as I live.
I loved finding your silverware in our drawer
because it was just another excuse to go back to your part of the house.
You made our dogs fatter
but our cat happier.
All the mausers miss you.
And I miss Lithuanian phone calls and newspapers
and the 10:00 news too loud when we were trying to sleep.
I might even miss the incessant weather updates

for other parts of the country
and the weird smells of the food you cooked.
And I also miss that little bus coming by
to take you, in your suit, to lunch.
Why did you always wear that suit to go out???
Even on scorchingly hot days!?!
I'm sorry for never putting on socks

when you told us we'd get sick if we didn't.
Even though that never made us sick,

we could have just done it.
But... you could have just put your teeth in too...
and you rarely did that, so... I guess we're even.

I'm sorry Kai broke your typewriter
and that he sometimes slept in your bed when he was little
because he was scared of being alone.

And I'm sorry for not being home

for your last and 90th birthday.
Why did we even go to Hermann that one year?
We still aren't sure, but we hope you liked it.

I'm also still not sure why

you would sometimes ask us for ice cream
even though you hated all things cold.
No ice in your drinks.
"Sippy sippy Mississippi."

Another thing I don't know
is why my mom considered you a suitable supervisor
when we wanted to go in the pool.
But now that I think of it,
maybe she meant for us to watch each other.

Thanks for always picking up the sticks in the backyard.
And giving us root beer and candy
(even though some of us hated it).
And thanks for always letting us play with your magnifying glass
and pretend your footstool was a boat.

I'm so glad you got to meet all your grandchildren.
When we told you the thriteenth was born you said
"A dozen is a dozen but thirteen is more."
Ain't that the truth.

You can remember things now, I'd assume.
Do you remember when we got out the video camera
and asked you what advice you had?
You told us to go on a walk
until we found a really good tree.
And you told us to climb it;
that we'd never regret it.

I think that's the best advice I've ever gotten.

You sure did love walks,
even though you were really slow at them.
And you sure did love trees... and trimming them.
Good grief.
I'm sorry that we hid your saw so many times
but you really needed to calm down about those trees.
If there's any forestry where you are
I'm sure it's perfectly pruned.

About a Sign

A bridled tongue
And sundipped pen
Will try to fight for me again--

Through every day that I'll have passed
As long as frigid tremors last
To reach the depths of what I know
(To the extent that it is so)
I'll practice wholly thinking of
The time and space continuum
And hopefully with fist clenched pain
Can stumble out of dreary frame
And into lighted world unknown
By any other than a throne

The bleakness of my eyes' report
Is murdered by my heart's contort
Envisioning acceptance of
The world I know in swing because
Of thoughts and deeds done not by I
But rather, wholesome friend nearby
And I will rest in full despite
The treachery in sound and sight
And inhale every inch that's brought
And finally make love with thought
That books are penned and songs are sung
Indifferent of my breaths when young

I feel its warmth but see it not
(The day the answer is begot)
And clouded mind will finally cease
Disturbing every shred of peace
I will resemble each remark
However wretched, shrewed, or stark
And own my own as given by
A magic giver in the sky
I'll all at once begin to shout
How sea and sky could do without
The story of mistaken trust
Obliterating every "must"

How bittersweet of this conclusion
To coax me from the rash illusion
That I am fully worthy of
The first five movements from above
I'll feel and know when time is best
That my whole vanity's a jest

Were I to wake to find the ground
I walked upon was still around
And tree and rock not marred nor scathed
Positions perfectly arranged
First witnessing the plans unfold
Each plant and person rightly told
Here all exist were I not me
And where I am is where I'll be.

e.g.

whatever happened to the follow-through?
did it just get lost in the undertow?
did it lose itself some years ago?
did it pack itself into bags & leave?
will it take me with next time?

whatever happened to jumping in?
the fishing lines, the will to swim?
i will try to recount the words
when the puffing's passed & the spinning twins
are last year's wings undone.

new places but my places,
(just not-as-old places)
different faces but my faces
(just haven't been placed yet)
this may sting a little.

baby, i could cry.
baby, i can't.
baby, why?
is it because?
no, i didn't think so.

there'll be little more to say then,
biting my lip for "i told me so!"
ha ha ha!
i'm happy for
you.