Girls & Monsters

I wanna write about monsters but end up writing about girls. Again. "I dunno, maybe they're the sa—" "Oh how dare you!" cuts in another.

Girl Out the Aisle

Girl spots me as she strolls out the aisle, moves on. Same girl turns her head around, takes a second look at me. On she walks, sighing "Babe, over here" as her boyfriend dopes out the aisle. This is where I sing the jaunty "I'm Gonna Take Your Girlfriend" song in my head.

A Proof in Shakes

Sometime Tuesday Morning...

I made a girl laugh at IKEA.

My brother and sister were looking for a bunk bed which prompted the girl in the blue-striped, yellow IKEA shirt to ask them, “Is it for you two?” 

They said no. It’s for the youngins. 

The girl added, “Okay, because it’s not shake-proof.”

My brother and I turned suspicious eyes to each other, both thinking “shake-proof” was in reference to breaking beds as result of an at times vigorous adult act. He made a “yeah sex” comment under his breath as I quickly contributed the thought (replete with horizontal left-fist pumping forward action)... 

“Stress--from intercourse?”

A boisterous laugh confettied from the right whose origin evaded me because I was looking at my brother as the words and fist floated in their finish, both our smirks a-match as we stood sympatico on the silliness of the idea. My sister as cool spectator to this makeshift Swedish furniture flat pack store stage act (For One Day ONLY!!) then proclaimed in a voice I heard sweep through ever so clear, “Ahh she laughed!” and I looked to the girl in the IKEA shirt, from whom emitted that lustrous audible energy to the right of me, now at this point a full-turn away, stepping away, in view the rear of her shapely form somehow revealing ever more so her still-coming state in hysterics; a proof in shakes.

Oh how good that was!

I walked away soon after, leaving brother and sister to continue business with the owner of that heartfelt laugh. I walked away because I got anxious about who I am--stranger in a stranger hat--in front of this outstanding woman and dared not my deficiencies be known, sickly shadows as they are, to her fine light.

But you know what?

I made a girl laugh at IKEA.

I, however momentary, however fleeting a fresh breeze too soon gone by, was the reason for a woman’s smile.

And to see such beauty in bloom?

Today was a good day.

Spaghetti-Strapped Honey (Lunch at IKEA)

Meanwhile Thursday Afternoon...

Enjoying lunch at IKEA I looked around and outta nowhere made eye contact with an already staring spaghetti-strapped honey who held it--her comely face revealing she was stunned that I essentially caught her peeking--then shyly looked away dipping into her coyly raised right shoulder, her neck to bare, all cute like.

Yuuuuup.

She beat me to it. 

The girl was 528'ing me.

Whaa?!

I know, right?




(Shoot, I heard that was a Sign of the Apocalypse.)

She Came with Cute, I Shoulda Put Back with Pretty

Aye yo to the girl at Eastridge who looked me up & down and said my outfit is "cute": Sincerely, thank you for the compliment, hon. Nah, I don't dress like this everyday, but oh yes when I feel good and... knowing I be talkin' to pretty ladies such as yourself. #Slick 😘

— Leonard L̶a̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ Lightning (for awhile) (@leonardlacking) June 21, 2018

Garburators with a Kick Start Heart

     My head grinds trying to understand how someone can effortlessly dismiss a person who was previously embraced with all the care one can give to another. What was framed and on the wall now just crumpled paper and tossed into a bin with the rest of the rubbish. I know I'm trash. That's probably the answer isn't it? I should have made it clear before attractions were played and save my self from inheriting another well of murky pain.
     I went into the relationship knowing that it would be marvelous to see a life with her. To see another day would mean something new to learn. Appreciate. Love. In this, I'd find a happiness. Smile as she smiled. Her wonders I would receive as my own, seeing a greater view of the world; more than I would have on hikes alone. Then to say goodnight, we'd mean it and be ever so eager to see what's next and take it on, hand-in-hand in comforting assurance we were to see it together.
   
     That's what it is to accept someone.
   
     Or how I think about it anyways. If you can find one person and do that and live it? Then it's a worthwhile time. Caught up in the splendor of it all that I forgot that I've got nothing to offer, dummy. The trash that I am invalidates me from ever being seen as what I would see in someone to spend time with. It takes getting dumped to know that. Or to be reminded of it. I knew it before, somewhere. I just got lost when things were well.  I believed in something good but had no foundation to support it. She's absolutely right to leave. They all are. How could she stand with me? As unstable as I am?

The Song's Working Title Was "Why Did It Die?"

Though I might try I can not write what was just recently thrown away. First it must drown. Rot. Suffer. Decay. Wither in absence of the one who let go. Then I'll gaze at that death preserved, some voodoo shrunken head at which I can piss on in great relief.

Until I tinkle, in apropos of the current hurt (yay) I'll leave it best to the Beatles to sing For No One.

This Day In January

How's it going? Not particularly well.

Like Child with Broken Toy

It's a fine series of disappointments; to say you want to be with someone but not really be there. Though I wonder if all relationships are like this and again there are thoughts I've come across I would not have come to realize as someone single but most revealing is that this "being together" thing only has served to reflect and magnify my insecurities, not dissolve them which goes to show I am not fit to share something so broken, like a child with a fucked up toy remains careless. 

She's the One Who Likes All My Pretty Songs

Hey - she's the one who likes all my pretty songs
And she likes to sing along and she likes to shoot her cunt
But she knows not what it means
Knows not what it means and I say:

She's the one who likes all my pretty songs
And she likes to sing along and she likes to shoot her cunt
But she knows not what it means
Knows not what it means when I say, yeah




*If you haven't caught it yet, it's a lyrical twist on Nirvana's In Bloom. Sing along if you know the words . . .

This Time Last Fall (She Chokes on a Dick)

Strumming 5'something in the morning. Then gibbering random to the strumming but then once again it's not random and out goes the stream to set the first verse. Then a follow through. Then top o' the lungs singscreaming before the sun under East Side hill even peeks a hello. Quick record on my mp3 player just to remember but post it up here soon after because the emotion won't be any fresher than it is now, newborn.

Pop from the womb, this is a spank and cry. Yes, it's alive.

It's a harsh one too. I'm all over the place on this one. I hurt too, yo. Rage is man's instant defense, so hear it in the shout. Why rage? Because they say we ought not shed them tears. But I did then. Utterly. It is here now I shout. You wouldn't want a recording of me 2 minutes crying would you? Duuuude. That's not punk, man. Or emo.

That's just . . .

shoot, that's just . . .

sad.

Oh well. You know what happened this time last fall? . . .





This Time Last Fall (She Chokes on a Dick)

This time last fall
Found about it all
She said just a friend
But 5 in the fucking morning call?
What kind of "friend" does that?

I questioned on
What the fuck went on
When I was gone
Though my heart stayed and was not gone
Loved you I did, oh I did carry

You looked away
When asked directly
Is there another guy that you've
Been so fucking loving?
"Yes . . . uh baby no" you said.

Now something's up
In your unsure answer
You're either messing around
Or you're fucking retarded
But bitch, you're a doctor

So fuck you bitch
for fucking lying
All the years loved
You couldn't tell me you moved on to another?

I hope you die with the worst kind of cancer
All painful and tumored
Choking
Choking
Choking from dirt dick been sucking

You goddamn whore
Since you were kid diddled
That's no excuse to have fucked this kid over
That time last fall

Heartbeat

Hey girl. Yeap. I like you. And this is how my heart sounds when I do, I do. Smile on. Woohoo!!




Heartbeat

Across from me, a girl I see
She's so fine oh best believe (How do I know?)
Because my heart it goes beep beep
Quick goes my red for her it beats

Ooh I see the girl look there she goes
She's so fine, her stance and her lingo
(I'd like to be someone known to her)
Watch her walk her walk and her hips go
Then she smiles oh my god it's bingo!
(Would you say hi if I just said hello?)

Here my heart it beats right on
Just for you
Do you hear my heartsong sing right on
For you?


Such a sweet thing that I do see
The perfect muse for whom I sing
Because my heart it goes beep beep
To think of you my red it beats


Ooh I see the girl look there she goes
She's so fine, her stance and her lingo
(I'd like to be someone known to her)
Watch her walk her walk and her hips go
Then she smiles oh my god it's bingo!
(Would you say hi if I just said hello?)


Here my heart it beats right on
Just for you
Do you hear my heartsong sing right on
For you?

And here it says, hear it says 
I'll love you
If you let me, girl

Can you hear my heartbeat, it beep beeps?
Just for you, my heart yes it does beat
You're the one I'd love to care for

Can you hear my heartbeat, it beep beeps?
Just for you, my heart yes it does beat
You're the one to love to care for

Things I Like on a Girl

Red   
   --Red will win these eyes in kidlike fascination. A favored color so goes the favor to a woman seen in red. Lips, polish, dress, etc., somewhere there is the visual charm sought by this red heart.

From My Deathbed

Listen up. This is what happens on a strum and a hum then the follow-up gibberish attempt to put words in but in a stream-of-consciousness attack the words that came out this evening was--is now--the first verse. When not in a serenade about them Maidens, Death is the everlasting call. I'm not as down as I used to be but like a good tree capable of bearing the bad fruit, the ill is still in me somewhere. Evidence. Go.






From My Deathbed

When they take me away
From my deathbed
I'll be happy
So Happy
So dead on my bed
Away from living unhappy
So Unhappy

This life sucks anyways
You can take it all away
Fuck it all

When they take me away
From my deathbed
I'll be happy
So Happy
So dead on my bed
Away from living unhappy
So Unhappy

They never loved me anyways
All the girls ran away
From me

Head hurts, I'm fucking sad
Heart hurts, am I so bad?
Is this the life I had to have?
Ah fuck it

When they take me away
From my deathbed
I'll be happy
So Happy
So dead on my bed
Away from living unhappy
So Unhappy

Hi Again Flower

       



          Phenomenal is the flower to sight this day. Post-silent year then back on approach, you expect a hesitant bud to whisper but then--what sweet surprise--she speaks, oh yes, in full bloom! In smiles and growth we are reacquainted on a carousel that circles forth to ride the seconds better than the twinkling ones before and up to look brighter, make brighter, live brighter this engine life. Hi, oh hi again, good old friend. It's swell to know at mid 20's is a peace, we type the time gracefully ahead.

Flea Market Finds 10[7-11-14]12

The following is a collection of cheery things I've gathered the past Sunday-Thursday-Sunday at the Capitol Flea Market. Here we go . . .

The Haul

Well on! Another cane to join the other two. This one is collapsible and is
all prepped and ready to go with hairbands on the handle for just in case.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

A fine find whose brilliance include "Even men of the same age
and the same country do not always speak the same language."

Because Lord knows I need it, as socially retarded as I am. So how do you say hello?

                                                          

                                                                            Whoa uh oh it's them ladies again! The tough! The wise! And the pretty!

Morning Walk

After breakfast I like to take a walk. Helps the digestion in this belly o' mine. Just a neighborhood walk. Out and nearby the schools or down to Capitol Square Mall. On Mabury there were these 3 chicks and the best of them had a red pullover, nice long hair and a nice tush. Yup, nice tush. She was across the street so I spotted that P.Y.T. under no duress and enjoyed what I saw. There was a hinted glance from her end but no matter, that girl was something in beauty full view today. As I looked on with her gone far down the road and my neck and torso at a twist to look back, to the blindside left of me at a lot exit a dark grey Toyota Tacoma KRUCHUNKH! stopped abruptly. Holy hot damn! I almost got hit! Duuude. I really ought to stop getting into accidents/near accidents when museum'ing the fair ones. It's a dangerous thing appreciating women, aye? Last time, when I saw a pretty butterfly and her good friend, I backed up to a parked car behind me HUHTHUD! Damage consisted of a bent license plate, is all. ~Whew~. Again, noticing wahines is a risk.

But a worthy one. Believe it.

You know what it's saying? "I'm a tree, bitches."

I decided, "To Target today" because I wanted to get a few more rounds in with the Undisputed 3 demo made-to-play at their XBOX360 stall. Good game, this. Kicking faces in and all that. With all this writing/songwriting/chick-thinking that's got me plenty (& happily) occupied I just don't have the time to enjoy a videogame as much as I used to. A walk and some gametime is a fine marriage. There are trees all over the neighborhood, wondrous trees of all sorts! I do like them trees. Green, lively, proud even. With all the madness around them in this sometimes fucked-up world a tree stands as is, stable in the doctrine in its knowing that it's there to be a tree. So I high-five 'em when I walk under their leaves and feel their greeny goodness and try to get a rub off their life's undeniable tenet in the hopes that I too will truly
know who I am in this, yes, sometimes fucked-up world.

Hey Ambrosine

So it starts with a hey. "How have you been?" How have I been? And in these words is a call to disaster, a query with the assumption of some fantastic answer where a king is king and the kingdom he sits throne to is in peace and golden prospers, where no dragons spit fire, burning land. But 'tis a question asked in a time of ashes. How have I been?

Dear, this a truth that I do not parade, for what parade drags yards of uninflated cartoon balloons, withered roses, shattered stiltmen, kung fu dubbed-like lip sync singsongs and epileptic dance numbers? But you ask for this parade, darling, and there ain't no Santa at the end of this one; somewhere he got stuck in a notoriously unswept chimney and died from cookie malnutrition.

In the glory of your higher education and the brightside you found in life, there are others like me, who sit pale from no sun and remain dumb for not grasping $40,000 degrees.

I am. A loser.

And it's tough to tell you that outright, miss.

The Ghost

A sunrise ago, strumming and humming 5'whatever in the morning, I blabbered out the first two lines. Thought ooh that's an idea and kept it in mind. Affection as a nuisance then to be killed for it? Oh my, an impassioned ghost! Then by happenstance I saw the first muse reappear, aged neat and blessed and in the buzz of a feeling that once was, I wrote a song, yes another song.





The Ghost

And in this love I was your foe
You won't ever see me again I know
You ran me over when I stood
To bleed out for you, I would, stand

North, the farmer's wife now are you?
The smile you smile is it true?
You never smiled when I was around
The love from your side was never found

The promise I made was something that you may have never heard
Yes 'til the end I'd think & sing & strum about all your worth
But as gone as I am, what is it worth?
One ghost unheard

The First Muse

The first muse
but first, breakfast