Brainsprain.net

You may wonder why I do not paint you,
but there is no museum wall that could hold the beauty of you.
There is not paint bright enough, deep enough,
or resilient enough for the vision you hold in my head.
There is no canvas ever made as strong as your arms
or as pliant as your kiss.

You, my life-long lover and friend
are the greatest of all works of art
and if I had any hand in your making,
I hope that I have only left
my thumb print on your heart.

Colleen M. 2/14/2008

I have been terribly ill, I am afraid. It seems that the kidney stone passed, left me with a bad infection and now I have to see a gastro specialist which means I am gonna get the tube of joy. I can hear Hank Hill in my head (Baaaah!) I did manage to suck it up long enough for a job interview somewhere in between it all. It is exactly what I need right now. High volume. Good pay. Low responsibility. I kind of want to be invisible for a while. As Lut ze says, one must truly appreciate the joy of being a sweeper if he wants to be a master.

As someone who has traveled through Europe, Mexico City, Canada, Australia and the Orient, I can definitely say that there is nothing quite as desperate as an American with nothing to purchase. I have been that American. It has taught me a lot about who I am. A consumer culture really does give you a sense of emptiness which many Americans try to fill with food or designer trends. Chances are, if you are American, you want something right now. If you get it, you will feel fulfilled for awhile and then grow bored with it and need more. If you don’t want a material possession, there is something that you are craving. I personally love attention which is why I am specifically choosing things in my life which afford me none. Others still are questing for notoriety, fame or some sort of way to mark their life as different after it is over. The truth as I see it, is like waves in the ocean. We are all different and we are all the same. Albert Einstein was a brilliant man and he will be remembered for a while. He was the Stephen Hawking of his time. He is now a pop-icon with awesome quotes. Soon he will be as memorable as a greek philosopher and then he will be set back where only academics go. His memory will be eroded away the way all natural things do with time. My point with all this is that we as a society must recognize this void and find how to fill it ourselves.

Perhaps that was way too deep. Let’s sing a song about dog farts now.

My mind keeps coming back to that Monday
when we sat outside in the grotto lawn.
I stretched out flat on a chair below
so you could not see me as you sang your songs.

My eyes traced the veins of the of the leaves above
while you told me of your plan.
It rained flowers that matched my shirt.
and silently my teardrops ran.

Ain’t it funny how our memories change with time?
or how a penny whistle tune can be sublime?

When what you seek and who you are merge
you simply divide again, I am afraid my friend.

But why that’s how it goes
only the cosmos truly knows.

Now, I have loved a man longer than I have not.
and I’ve not found many who know what I have got.

I’m so glad to share the laughter
and a pocket full of dreams.
because now I see that lonely heart
is busting to the seams.

It is beautiful to see the love that I have that is so true
you have found in someone beautiful and I have to say
my darling,
Love looks good on you.

Ruth lingered in the doorway just long enough to see for certain what she had been suspecting. Once she had her proof, she turned and shot down the hallway like an arrow to her target which had been placed on the back of the utility room door for emergencies just like this one. She was furious and intended to do harm. This was no ordinary anger either. This was rage that had been building for weeks when she first started seeing the signs. It wasn’t obvious right away. Just a little thing here or there, but she had seen it with her own eyes. Now that she knew the whole story, she could almost smell them doing their dirty business down the hall. Did they think they could just get away with this in her house? Don’t think so! She armed herself and started on her journey stepping ever so softly as not to alert them to her presence. She was always such a gentle soul, but there were some things in this world that she just would not abide. She eased the door open and began to open fire. “Die you pig-fuckers! Die!”, she howled as she unloaded the canister on to the floor of her kitchenette. “There will be no cockroaches in my kitchen as long as I walk this earth!”, she exclaimed and tossed the now empty can of Raid into the garbage. She sighed happily and armed off the bomb that would finish the job as she slipped out her front door to meet Emilia.

I struggled and struggled
thinking I was all things.
I grasped at chaos
and practiced elegant stances
until seven came along.
I disregarded him
saying “I have no time for you as I am all too important”
and he said, he would be back.

I searched the cosmos
I wore meaningful beads
and performed the rites of ancients.
I read the great philosophers
and memorized the words
so I could repeat them with eloquence.

I clothed myself in the world’s greatest thinkers.
I danced before the fire.
I bathed in the river of time
and then I met nine
who asked what I was doing.
I said “look on me and behold my glory! for I am infinity!”
Nine smiled and called seven to her side.
They took me by both hands and
held me like a lover between them
and suddenly, my confusion melted.
I had a purpose
and my burden was no more.
For I am not infinity.
I am eight.

I have been unmade by nothing
and nothing shall be my unmaking.
For the king of fairies mocks me and does not know it.

He, with his world of knowledge and plastic beads
laughs at my simplicity.

He, with textbooks of incantations and useless spells
mocks my energy by comparison to the horned toad.

I also have words of Latin and the rack of a first kill,
but they mean nothing.

They are merely symbols used in time by men who know no better.
Teddy bears of the intellectual man who cling to words
and have forgotten the old ways.

But how can I resist the dance?
What glamor has the fairy king.
But I will not tango, nor drink but my own wine.
And for all his beauty, passion and poise
the fruit on his table is always rotten.

Cupid is a fickled one
with heaven’s eyes
and devil’s tongue.
His aim is past the hearts he won.
Old young one aims to tease.

His wicked grin’s encased with fire.
Wooing you with lute or lyre.
His dance of knowing
pure, deep desire
You find you ache to please.

But capture him, you dare not try
for you will fall and fall from high
flash paper cinders arch the sky
and twirl askew to mother soil
so handle him with ease.

Even angels he has come to woo
know not to chase the little fae.
For endless is he to pursue.
As they exhaust, he does renew
and grounded, they fall on their knees.

Playland Skate Center officials declared the site “the safest place to be” last night as not only Supergirl, but Batgirl felt the beat and got down. A trio of super fans showed up in capes to support the duo. Batgirl sliced through the crowd on blades while Supergirl chose a more “American Way” on red white and blue quads.

The duo skated hard and furiously until a giant lobster showed up. Sensing that he was not actually a Super Villian but instead a tasty food item, the two began to realize their own super hunger and decided it was time to fly.

One of my favorite little odd past-times is to replace the pronouns in love songs so that I am singing to myself. It is a little narcissist tune and it makes me laugh. The effect goes something like this. “I love me. I honestly love me.” or “Just me and I, sharing my world together”.

I have recently realized just how telling my little songs were. I am hereby granting all my friends validation stamps. They are invisible. Whenever I start in on something that sounds like I am just seeking validation, you are to just mock stamping my forehead and say VALID! This will help me identify these narcissistic moments. Thanks. I am working on it. I really am guys.

What happened to poets who stood up for chance?
What happened to lovers who stood up to dance?
What happened to passion that came without brand?
Oh the times, they ain’t gonna change in this land.

We are products for product we are born with a void.
So much lust for fulfillment, that nothing’s enjoyed.
We use and we use all trends in demand.
Oh the times, they ain’t gonna change in this land.

So some of us gather to welcome the fall.
Some of us answer to a higher call.
But until we gather ourselves hand in hand…
Oh the times. they ain’t gonna change in this land.