As my English Teacher always Said

coleen

falling in love doesn't feel so bad unless its falling apart which can sometimes happen

Goulet

Originally posted by coleen
falling in love doesn't feel so bad unless its falling apart which can sometimes happen

falling apart isn't so bad
i wouldn't be here in the poetry hut
or anywhere close to anything i am
if love hadn't fallen apart for me
but then again maybe i would because its fate
everything that we know of though
falls apart
we are born
and then we die
we fall in love
and even if you stay in love you die
so that falls apart
really only two things are guarenteed
one is life
and the other is death
everything else is up in the air
and that doesn't seem so bad

coleen

i don't mind the falling
from grace
for love
to pieces

its the impact that scares me most

like 'they' say if you have that dream of falling and falling and falling....you should never dream of hitting the ground. i have - almost as many times as i can recall the falling dream and i'm not dead yet i don't think. but i'm still not so jaded by the experience that
i forget to remember to be just a little scared of
what will happen this time or the next.

the impact i mean.

Goulet

Originally posted by coleen
the impact i mean.

think of it this way:

life is so short and so imperfect and so hard,
but when you die you're dead forever...
it's like you become immortal in death
unless you belive in reincarnation,
but that eventually has an end
when you find Enlightenment
or become Brahma
or whatever your mind can think up...
everything has an end
until you become that which has no end
and really weren't you always that thing
because if you become something
you have to stop being that thing eventually...
my head hurts

Goulet

here goes:

i press my patience with my right hand and out of my head comes a block of red rubbarb and some twirling dancers from Bohemia who dance in explicit was nd make my organs grow and churn like an old butter churning device that cause many a cold night in the 1600's to turn into many a hot night in teh 1600's and cause many a Romantic poet to be born so i think it was the right decision to collapse into the arms of a strange girl i didn't know and look into her beautiful dark cow-eyes and through her beautiflu dark-rimmed glasses that turn me on so much and tell her that she was beautiful and i wanted to make love to her for hours of at least until i got my rocks off oh i feel so cliche just like a pirate probably always does and i'm sure his parrot tells him so and i'm sure his mother is dissappointed that he didn't become a doctor or a lawyer or something respectable because he doesn't even come home for Christmas and doesn't even call on Sundays and he kills people from time to time and plunders their riches oh i forgot i'm having this kind of episode today where my forehead feels like its moving in a forewards direction ahead of everything else that's attatched to me.

coleen

don't stop

please

Goulet

Originally posted by coleen
don't stop

please

you are a sneaky hider

coleen

Originally posted by Goulet
you are a sneaky hider

i am a happy phanom....its part and parcel of the occupation

Goulet

phantoms are like this:

on my cheek i sometimes feel a prick-prick-prick and a rub-rub-rub and i laugh a little and get sad a little and stare at trees a little and think they know too much and that's why we cut them down and i go on long trips across teh USA and across the continental divide adn the mason dixon line and all teh way to mexico where i stop and look back and say, "Fuck it" and i move on and shuffle my feet and stare at teh passers-by who are staring at me because they think they see somethign or something is prick-prick-pricking or rub-rub-rubbing on their soft cheeks or their over-grown beards or their sensuous nipples and they smile and laugh and get sad and start to think about become a giant among men or a giant among gods or just becoming the wind and becoming a hurricane or a tornado or a horrible downpour of rain and then they could wash themselves down all teh drainpipes of teh world and hoist the planet up on their back and be proud and feel accomplished and know that they are needed but never thanked and that is good enough.

coleen

some are just disembodied souls who feel a bit unfit for the insides of their limbs. their skin never fits quite right - for some its too loose and others find it a bit too tight. but mostly it holds them down or in or maybe it holds them back and they strive to be that which truly makes them who they are. they are light as the breeze as imperceptible as the air.

phantom wanders about through a day and a life extracting the true essence from the skins of things. our most humble moments, our most brilliant moments, the moments that make us less than proud. all are beautiful and perfect and wonderous in their way when we look upon them without judgement.

its something that most of us seek - someone to love us for what we are warts and beauty marks and bruises and shining hearts and scars and gentle souls.

Goulet

Originally posted by coleen
its something that most of us seek - someone to love us for what we are warts and beauty marks and bruises and shining hearts and scars and gentle souls.

i think i'd rather have a real person that loves me for all those things that seem silly or don't matter or inspite of all those things that seem to matter or seem silly
thinking about the phantom or the fantasy of it all is where i get in trouble because it becomes too perfect and doesn't have any of those beautiful imperfections itself
real people are imperfect
and imperfection is true beauty
perfect things are just that too perfect
there's no dischord or disharmony in them
there's no fun

Goulet

Here it:

isn't it a grand old time in the dream world where you're off having sweaty lusty love with a Big Breasted Blonde Girl who is nine feet tall and you're nine feet eight inches tall and have giant feet and when you two kiss its like glaciers slamming into each other and tearing at each other's insides and then your potato salad doesn't taste so good so you smash the gong and go high diving off the front podium of your elementary school stage into a sea of all the people that you remember you only remember their faces though so its kind of tough to tlak to them in a resonable way and you just end up shouting at them about how porrage isn't hot enough and your name is not Bill or Hermes and that you are a successful miner and you own your own diamond mine and have Two Beautiful Girls who sleep in the same bed as you and your bed is made of diamonds and gold and silver and you sleep of bags of money and they keep you safe and sound at night and you dream good dreams about being a wealthy farmer from Canada and you think that's maybe what you'll do tomorrow so that you can have a real Soul again and maybe get into Heaven even though you don't believe in all that stuff so you continue kissing this Wonderful Girl with brown-green eyes and darker hair then yours and she's got it in Pig-Tails and she's got those dark-rimmed glasses and she's a singer and plays guitar and is lovely and you think she's perfect so you just keep kissing her.

Goulet

i remember it being easier to cough a syrup dish then have "relations" with a teacher in high school, but that is just me
why has my writing style changed?
i wonder if has anything to do with older women
or ground coffee colonies
or home-spun weaver looms of juicy mashed taters
i bet that's it
slunked

Goulet

i'm worried about you
it seems like you've changed over the last part of teh year
you cut your hair
it used to be long
down to your shoulders
and curly and wavy
and uncontrollable
and very sexy
but now you chopped it off because it was easy
and not as hot in the summer
and it takes less time to dry
so i wonder what you're like now
are you still full of lust
and regret
and hate
or do you have some spot inside yourself
that can open up again
--no i don't
but you didn't let me finish, Cal,
i know better then anyone that you're dead inside
and have no feeling
and no charm
and no regret
you look into the eyes of strangers
and want to "sex them up"
remember you said that
and even that pretty girl that likes you
you can't seem to open up to her
--i haven't even gotten a chance to yet
well all i'm saying is that she's got pretty
eyes and plays guitar
and those are two things that you've been looking for
--i know
but don't fall in love with her too quick
or you'll end up killing yourself
or drowning in misery
or both
--maybe
okay, Cal, be melodramatic if you want
you short-haired worthless hippie.

Goulet

i think:

if my name were Marsha i would be so much better off because it seems to suit me better then my name now do you know my name now if you do it is a pleasure to know you too if you don't just ask and i will tell for a name is not else but a word and a word is not else then a string of letters put together in a careful and beautiful way and each word is beautiful and spoken so clearer by each person that speaks it so that they owe their very life to letters and if there were not letters then we would have to communicate like trees and sway in teh wind and make creaking noises and humming sounds and be quiet and content because we would be masters of our own domains and we would have no names because our names would be teh earth and the wind and the grass and the field mice and teh nature that is around us so i claim to have no name but i will tell you if you ask if you ask.

Goulet

yeah so:

my jelly worm is bigger then your jelly worm.

Goulet

memory from a fragment of dream:

lifting weights in the high school weight room i realized that i hadn't lifted weights in about three years and that even the lightest weights were too heavy for my muscles that do not bulge and i was struggling and struggling to get strong and wasn't quite sure why i was there you know those times when you can step outside of your dream while you're still dreaming and you know everything is fake and your just asleep because everything you're doing and saying is somethign that you would never do or say and then i gave a local drug dealer gang member a ride home but instead we stopped at my house which was across teh street from a family of ninjas who were out to get said gang member drug dealer so we had to run through my back yard and into a strange house that turned into a giant warehouse with lots of halls and doorways and soon we were in a room with two yellow couches and a palm tree and in came three ninjas who had blonde hair and were dressed and looked like the children of teh corn or at least choir boys and girls and they came at us ninja style and now my older brother was there and instead of teh gang member drug dealer my best friend and we fought teh three ninjas and beat them and then three more came this time two girls and one guy and we beat them and then more and more came and we were floating in the air kicking and punching until soon we had beaten up almost the whole ninja family and they let us go and so we were driving back to somewhere talking about the ninja family and i suggested that maybe they were like us before they became ninjas you know just really good at karate and kung fu but my brother and my best friend and the gang member who had returned did not like that idea so i called them ninjas and then i woke up.

Being Enlightened

Originally posted by Goulet
memory from a fragment of dream:

lifting weights in the high school weight room i realized that i hadn't lifted weights in about three years and that even the lightest weights were too heavy for my muscles that do not bulge and i was struggling and struggling to get strong and wasn't quite sure why i was there you know those times when you can step outside of your dream while you're still dreaming and you know everything is fake and your just asleep because everything you're doing and saying is somethign that you would never do or say and then i gave a local drug dealer gang member a ride home but instead we stopped at my house which was across teh street from a family of ninjas who were out to get said gang member drug dealer so we had to run through my back yard and into a strange house that turned into a giant warehouse with lots of halls and doorways and soon we were in a room with two yellow couches and a palm tree and in came three ninjas who had blonde hair and were dressed and looked like the children of teh corn or at least choir boys and girls and they came at us ninja style and now my older brother was there and instead of teh gang member drug dealer my best friend and we fought teh three ninjas and beat them and then three more came this time two girls and one guy and we beat them and then more and more came and we were floating in the air kicking and punching until soon we had beaten up almost the whole ninja family and they let us go and so we were driving back to somewhere talking about the ninja family and i suggested that maybe they were like us before they became ninjas you know just really good at karate and kung fu but my brother and my best friend and the gang member who had returned did not like that idea so i called them ninjas and then i woke up.

COOL! We're they Teenage Mutant Ninja Children Of The Corn??

Goulet

i grows mad, i grows sad
--why so mad-sad?
i comes, i goes
--why comes-goes?
my brains sink, my minds sunk
--why so sink-sunk?
my lifes gone away, my hearts gone broke
--why so away-broke?
my eyes is dark, my ears is black
--why so dark-black?
my time on this planet
seems useless and filled with muck
and in the roads i wallow
and role in the filth
because your eyes is bright, your eyes is fine
--why so bright-fine?
cause i seen nothing like them
so bright-fine
and cheery
and scarlett
and your hairs is dark, your glasses is rimmed
--why so dark-rimmed?
cause she so beautiful
and older then i
and more experienced
and laughs more
and loves to play music loud
and fast and fun
she legs is long, she breast is full
--why so long-full?

Goulet

I hear a weeping willow out there,
i wish i could tell it to smile
or at least
kiss it on the cheek