JDSundeavors

Living is just giving in.

2009-10-22T14:25:16Z

Death is the first step, friends.
Everybody's just got to take it their own way.

Let's go home.
To south of the Mediterranean, and let everyone have a turn.

I'd like to do that.
ASAP

Writer's Block: Happy go lucky

2009-10-14T22:54:56Z

\

Oh Lucky ME

When I always would sleep... nothing but sheets.

2009-09-22T22:01:11Z

Sorry, but
You are looking for something that isn't here.

I don't know for a fact.
I know for some fun.
And right now,
I feel there is none
To be had...

Ha..aH
I like how that sounds:
To be had

You've halved me.

Future=Tense.
The future is now.

Relax,
There is always time.
Just enough time to go around.

One half attempts to finish what was started long before
There was even chance of half.
(2)1/2=Whole.
The whole refuses to be filled.
Bottomless, in fact, so that
There are more to be had
Looking for something that isn't here.

Who has a reason while there are plenty of excuses?

Multigrain On The Brain

2009-09-19T18:43:05Z

Bread is life.

Ouch! I bit my gum.

You know I never meant to hurt you.

- - - - - - - - ----- - - - - - - - - - - ------- - - - -

驚いたことに、私はゼブラーマンを楽しんだ。

2009-08-29T13:52:28Z

I am oh so moderately American.
One of my buddies intends on going to Cali.
"I guess I'll make pizzas, if I have to,"
He softly repines.
Meanwhile,
I wake up at 7:30 AM
To tell my computer what I've consumed
Before I am too late.

Thank you, Zebraman!

"From where we are, can you take me some place far away?".
-I'll find out later.

This Conversation's Mind

2009-08-25T21:23:56Z

The thrill is in the question.
The answer is irrelevant,
And the trivia master
Or bibliographer is vain.
The specific date
Or particular place
Isn't the statement's
Intended purpose.
Maybe it's not much of an ending,
But I could say the same for the encyclopedia.
Spoiler alert:
Zoroastrianism.

We see a conclusion
As a relief.
On the contrary,
It's a comfort.

Last night,
I led it linger.

Finger Hook Scrape

2009-08-18T22:05:00Z

Nude as a jay bird
Free as a convict
For all of the world to see fit
Ready for a shave
Like Iggy Pop on stage
In the golden age of self-destruction

They don't break 'em like they used to
Supposedly knowing better now
The sixties were a time of "experimentation"
A silly, fleeting moment of liberation,
But no need now

Wandering other's discoveries
With the same absente spirit
Only to have the high beams arrest my pursuit
"Where is my grace period for carelessness?"
Requesting as if it were dropped
Into a glass too narrow

It's over, now, I realize
Watching hypocrite boomers
Advertising free love with purchase
Adrift in their compromise

They say it happens to all of us
When we're no longer young enough
To trust youth

Mr. Down

2009-08-17T13:46:42Z

Something like idle hands
When picking up pace
And the Robin Hood of Sherwood Lake
Apartment complexities of a missing bell
Up and down corrections
Down further into the muggy level of hell

Something like a roaming eye
With plenty of detailed choices
The right side handshaking voices
Left isolated the sincerely awkward sounds
Of running out of breath
Downplaying the up-sold towns

Here's my card.

"↓"

No, the other side.

Something like a secret weapon
While the hand is slight
Meeting at any time of night
For purposes of known impressions
Left up to the right henchman
Mr. Down, at your discretion

To Little

2009-08-12T08:59:08Z

With new-found confidence,
My eyes stay fixated,
Challenged.
Gracefully, she leads
Me through old corridors
Where I'm sure many before
Haven't felt as at ease
As she.

Not so relaxed, however,
When abstained.
Silence.

My mother was the same name.
Little irritant. Naive dependent.
Apathetic.

Despite what I perceived,
I left my trail pointedly.
Do you see what I see?
I seem to recall a more relevant hour ago
Enhanced in the magnified scope,
But it's too late.

Mighty Toll

2009-08-05T05:32:15Z

This morning came with the instantaneous reminder
I'm footing the bill for this learning experience.
I feel your furrowed brow from behind the plow.
With my toes buried in the sand of the Nile,
The lesson learned clearly could only be earned.
If you're asking me what he'd expect,
You're asking the wrong reflection.
What pales in the comparison of the translucent bullet proof?
Thanks for calling to check up, but
I must depart from our cahoots.

In the afternoon, I was awoken to my own devices.
I broke down, broke the ribbon, and broke down again
But to a lesser extent. All that I meant to do
Developed irrelevantly for an impending rainy day.
My nervous system's strayed so that now
When my brain commands a response,
Each body part is independent and indignant.
I wish I could convince them all
That equitability is often equivocal,
And the sacrifice seems small
But takes a mighty toll.

And tonight,
I squeeze blood from a stone.

Writer's Block: Family Heirlooms

2009-07-19T17:34:22Z

Is there anything in your family that has been passed down from generation to generation, or from family member to family member? What is it? And who do you plan to pass it on to?

Submitted By licktheknife

View 502 Answers

Guilt has been passed down ignorantly throughout my family's history for generations. It's only in recent times that it has been brought out into the open, but for the most part, it is still denied. My intention is to pass it to no one. Even if I must keep it to myself for my remaining years, I will not let this burden spread to any children of mine however they may come.

3 Different Poems Post Orgasm

2009-07-07T18:04:42Z

Fuck, fuck, oh, fuck

He rolls over to his left side of the bed where he slept every time so she may have her preference to reach out for something in the middle of the night. Smiling, panting filled each 30" x 80" space in a room that was only 100" x 310" itself. As they caught their collective breath, their thoughts gathered in the silence that was draining inward due to the leaning floor boards. She turned to him with the sweetest intent.

That was incredible.
I'm always amazed at the power of our love.
It washes over me and leaves me an uninhibited puddle of trust.
I love you.

She enveloped to her left enclosing him in her embrace. Lying motionless, he lifted his forearm to cover his hand over hers. With her face pressed against the comforting warmth of his chest, she could not see the distance in his eyes. Those draining thoughts cloud his mind.

I love you, too.
...
It 's almost terrifying to have your trust.
So much so, the doubt in me creeps into my most loving thoughts,
And I become unconvinced that any of this is real.
How can you trust me when I don't even trust myself to let you?

His question cut through the atmosphere. At first, it was rhetorical, but it was ultimately true. His doubt radiates through his otherwise spent body like mercury in a cracked thermometer. Not wanting to be exposed, she held him tighter, but now her eyes traveled that same distance. Down his abdomen, over and away from the once vital organs, she saw herself in a future as an unwed widow with manipulated fruits to bear for this, her love dead to the world. Slowly, her hand peeled from under his, and she coiled back to reach for something in the night. It was the lamp chain she pulled back, and in this darkness, they dreamed of essentially the same thing.

I can't believe you would lose my love,
As easy as it may be.
This loneliness threatens my very existence,
And I will be surprised if I haven't disintegrated by morning.
Should I find myself next to you when awaking,
I will love you.

Without understanding this convenience,
I feel that I need it.
Truthfully, I know your face could change into antoher
Without affecting my approach,
But I've grown so accustomed to yours.
I've groaned into your eyes in what may be all-together three seconds of honesty.

Good night.
Good night.

Tomorrow morning, I will love you
Without feeling it for myself.

Marquette Park

2009-07-07T08:36:31Z

At 7:30 AM, I wasn't sure if I'd make it through the whole day.
I couldn't even comprehend being conscious at 7:30 AM.
I rolled in, looked you in the eye, and forgot your name.
We had our fifth conversation; the third without names.
You corrected my hearing and convinced me to leave.

At your house, I tried my best to put in as little effort as possible.
It's like that most every day at your house.
You tell me the stories of being let down, and I can help.
You trust me in your basement, in your bathroom, with your daughter,
And in return, I am hydrated and acknowledged.

At your disposal, I receive your messages,
And respond, accordingly, at your disposal.
I make haste when you claim I'm late,
And I hesitate every time you make me wait.
No matter how bumbling or humiliating, I will pull this wreck together.

At Marquette Park, you were waiting for a change.
Though, you were beginning to feel that urge more often sitting at Marquette Park.
We parked in between the dunes, saving a spot for our eventual celebration.
We buried the hatchet and a thirty case of beer in the same sands we sat dry.
It seemed we had somehow gained independence in our old uniforms.

At the demand of the Animal Beast King,
We ventured off into dark wilderness at the expense of our feet.
You were strapped to the nines but lost it halfway into the night.
He was smoking at his heart's contempt with mind and body unkempt.
That's when I realized all you needed was some reassurance
It wouldn't end at Marquette Park.

Drive Slow

2009-07-04T02:36:18Z

There's a station wagon without a door handle on the driver's side. In the backseat, piles of newspaper and cable wire tangle and tear. My dark glasses make it hard to see; just how I like it. If it wasn't for this wall against my back, I'd collapse right now into a flowerbed. I'm not thinking of any of that, however.

My mind is in my hand. A hand that is holding an apple. Granny Smith couldn't be anymore proud. My teeth are numb from drinking beyond "that point." Every bite feels like I'm turning into a whole roast pig, and I'd like to be in the Philippines. Any place away from this siding and wood grain.

It makes me spit. My mouth is coated. Staring into the markings of my misshapen jaw, a brown spot seemed to lift up midway to the core. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. Like a covert bloodstain on bedsheets, it haunted my vision, forcing my mind into racing to no avail. Every explanation led right back to the apple with my jawline.

For some reason, I silently speculated that it was my teeth that created the brown spot. It was mocking me, and I couldn't take my eyes off of it, except to look into the window of that station wagon. My eyes were missing, my backbone simulated, and that god damned apple leaked in my palm. I felt it's sticky interior between my fingers, gripping it like a curve ball. I looked into that window and noticed that I didn't mind my shit-face grin.

Then, that apple exploded into that fucking window. The right shoulder came undone from the wall, and I expected someone to come and catch my hanging, lifeless body. At 3:32 AM , though, I was as undisturbed as newpaper and coax in a station wagon without a driver's side door handle.

Rodrick Hightower vs. Apish Rapist

2009-07-03T22:21:44Z

"Let's say goodbye to the world we know,"
Hightower's mind communicated to his heart.
Meanwhile, I was still in his receiver pressed against his ear.
"No, no," I consoled, "I'm sorry to hear about your intrusion."
It's funny how one man's misfortune can be another man's relief.

As much as I try to, I cannot blame myself.
Not with that apish rapist on the loose at least.
The Blessed Hess has been oppressed by this maniacal,
Thoughtless, and bluntly stupid brute from Missouri's river route
For what seems like a lifetime now.

Hold your black books tight,
And keep your PS3's out of window-sight.
The Neiborhood Watchwitch will be out tonight.

Keep That Juice To Yerself

2009-07-03T17:06:21Z

Snooze the booze outta yer head.
Boy, we're headed out to squarish town.
Better know I'm bringin' this bed,
Else find ya self tied down in the back.
Make room for the records,
Tire irons, copper, and buckets.
This ain't no vacate, Nate.
Moeny's across stateline.

It's been fine, Nashville,
But Louisville awaits
From so many miles away.

Writer's Block: Environmental Confession

2009-06-26T13:34:02Z

'Fess up: What do you do that's bad for the environment?

Sponsored by One Million Acts of Green brought to you by Cisco.

View 500 Answers

I yielded my time to the Republican Representative from Tennessee this morning on C-SPAN.

Feeling Weak

2009-06-10T22:07:58Z

It feels as though I can go on no longer. I hear these fear mongering mouthpieces encouraging the ignorant to take their misplaced aggression out to the public, only to use the resulting tragedies for their nightly ammunition. They will not stop until there is nothing left of this community, and then who will do the daily labor they require for their desires?

For eight years, I contemplated public destruction and succession, but I knew better due to lessons from the Civil War to our Civil Rights movement. It's a shame that democratic appreciation doesn't seem to carry over into "social issues," but apparently, violence does.

Yesterday, they decided what was right for Dr. Tiller in the house of God himself, and Private William Andrew Long became another unnecessary casualty of war while on home soil.
Today, Officer Stephen Tyrone Johns was slain in the name of hate for protecting those who had just wanted to see the history of this ongoing struggle as a distant memory.
Tomorrow, as we march on, we must never forget every sacrifice so that we may preserve our rights. Not just as Americans, but as humans. It is our method of coexistence that will decide what we live with or die for.

And no one belief, idea, or system for that matter must ever take precedent over this fact.
I don't know if I will live to see the day where this is completely accepted internationally, but until the day I die, I will hold it high.

Hung Out (too dry)

2009-06-05T04:02:33Z

Joining the ranks of those who had fallen out before him,
The only solace he could find was in the leftovers of his ego.
Results were below expectation and tragically disappointing.
Denying it was no longer an option this time.
All hope met the abrupt reality.
Nona should never have walked in to discover this legacy.

The very first memories I will save for you,
And even though all recent interactions faltered,
Never let it be said that you didn't have a place.
The zenith on another plane welcomes you.
Oh, receive the invitation.

R.I.P. JV

Take Two And Tie Him Down

2009-05-31T22:28:52Z

The eraser is attacking so this must be brief.

The loonies have taken over. I saw Jesus on the side of 165th Avenue holding hands with a drunken mess. He was interested in purchasing a bankrupt house but ended up buying the entire farm.

She needed that hand. She had just lost her job as a chef when her husband, with his most recent debt, took her truck and the last of the money to be with some young, freaky chick. I could tell you that her name was Cheryl, but instead I will tell you her name was Denisha who lived in front of the house with the red, white, and blue tree. Leaving brown and green all to me.

She insisted on being taken care of by Mr. Bobby who was down on the corner with the coaches. Jesus carried her by the hand past each block while she revealed that her mother had been in town to remind her that her brother was dead. Her knees buckled, but by that time they had found Mr. Bobby. He took her in and provided the medicine he knew she needed. Jesus was not so sure and fled the scene.

Meanwhile, one of the coaches was explaining to a patron saint that he had been royally screwed. "I'm sorry. We've been looking for Frank for three weeks. If you want the money you won from the NASCAR race, you're going to have to find Frank."

But Frank was looking for a game of golf.

Extraordinary Envoy

2009-05-28T08:37:03Z

It's like that, hanging from my hand.
Further and further into the inevitable quick sand,
More obstacles reach me each and every day congesting my broad way.

Hope I haven't pried, but
'They'd tan my hide' and
'Don't forget to wash behind your ears' are phrases you'll rarely hear anymore.

I'm time spent and represent
The swaying translucent pennant.
Oh, and that name remaining blank is their best way of saying, "Thanks."
I suppose I know I'm not the only cat in this bag.
Nonetheless, hoist and moisten that rag.

I had picked a perfect pocket.
When opportunity came-a-knockin',
There were at least ninety-six weeks, though, with nothing to speak of.

I uttered a sentence.
"As an electrician apprentice and dishroom attendant,
I've surmised abiding direct instructions from my supervisor actualizes production."
But the fact they actually bought my bull-huck lie is
The contradictory complication of complyin'

Everybody People

2009-05-28T00:40:16Z

Everybody can begin slippin' on the Sunday skin
Both hands reach grease, each touch rubs in
Feelin' relievin' pants, and substitution substance
Priceless, proof-read prints, publicized nonsense
Dead on the weddingness, some sanctitious symbolism
Serviced reception featuring alcoholic anti-rhythm
Why, it's got Sly rollin' so below his family headstone
We all got a snicker outta you eyein' your sister 'cause the disk jockey said so
Headin' home I finally caught a cap under my tongue
Easin' my nerves from feelin' that flung, high-strung,
Chest-numbing explosion I first had died on a ride
That went high and side to side, I shoulda shied before I cried
Besides, that's how the people recognize me anyway
As brave as a stain, and as crazed as a stray
"I'm a lonely man," I'd always say,
"But that's life."

Everybody! Everybody!
Get on down that road!
Sunday's music's on!
(Let's go!)

Unamazed, somehow always, to be found underground
Stuffed with a behemoth and a mime, not a clown
Who stayed in the haze so glazed, couldn't recognize they own face
Chasing every hit with it's equivalent replacement haywire mayday
And they can't see the TV coloring the splitscreen
Free inhalant steam reactivating
Analog antennae snipped through the shielding
Maynard & Hester are far into the fielding
Waging a war in a foreign kitchen shelf
Nudging the funeral into passing me the elbow shells
Dance it all off and scoff on a Saturday, Mac the knight
Pick up your sword, a boring device, and get you a slice
Inversion from the window pain, cursing in the worldly name
Plain as it is cold as it is hellish, yet it's another day
"I'm a lonely man," I'd always say,
"But that's life"

Roll With The Punches (feat. JDS)

2009-05-27T22:55:41Z

Antelope dung feels worse because hefty crap grows moist.
Babies love dabbling, somewhat, in Karma yearbooks for money bags.
Driven partly, Alex quizzes you champs.
First man to stroll past a stolen Rolls-Royce,
Rolls with the punches.

Gasket sequence can operate ponies, nevertheless,
Santa writes rural tales; mostly detailing bunker anacondas.
You may think, though you'd be wrong, this is all marijuana.
It's an old game. You can play if you wanna venture a guess,
And roll with the punches.

ONE WAY

2009-05-27T21:17:27Z

"Something in the past"
Wonder who said that
Almost every living thing, I'm sure
Coming down that forking path

Whichever direction you took,
Does not make it taken for good,
But you can't walk backward, dog
When you come to that intersection,
There'll be but one way to look

They call it the crossroads
So often associated with selling of the soul,
But it actually takes more work
Than what that devil will have you know

No one way about it

Y Tengo Hombre (Mamala)

2009-05-27T19:38:46Z

Hate to say,
But the truest facts are sad
And today,
Reputation's known for being bad
And what's strange
Is you seemed to add
'Y tengo hombre'
Into a vocabulary I'd never had

Yes, I knew that friend you kept in the dark
That one I shined a light on
You ever need that flash? I thought
You seemed like my type, bright in contrast
Unwilling to sign any contract,
But perfectly willing to bloom in bondage
Under the cool, shady stairs
Away from that sunny day funeral home

Mamala,
In Hessville and southeast
Mamala,
Protecting that child underneath
Mamala,
Did you ever hear me sing?
There ain't nobody like
Mamala

That one light dimming the entire cab
Won't say those words truly to any man
And yet, mamala, can
And as eager as if planned
And it's this observer's opinion
That she knew from the beginning
And every attempted retraction
Became the real distraction

Hate to say, Mamala,
But the truest facts are sad
And today, Mamala,
Reputation's known for being bad
And what's strange, Mamala,
Creo que tienes que comer.
Nunca he conocido a nadie como
Mamala