tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5716444786446343852023-10-30T04:33:25.520-04:00The Metrist AdriftRiver Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-27095746034369205892008-09-16T23:02:00.003-04:002008-09-17T03:50:32.950-04:00Spare Change and Poor Thoughts<span style="font-family:georgia;">Hello all. I return. So little to say, so little to say. I think I might take a break from the blog. More often my visitors are googled here by my fortune-cookie pilfered topic titles rather than an interest to read poetry. Rather disconcerting. I am, however, actively working on putting together a chap-book. So hopefully in the not too distant future I'll be updating with that information. My apologies if you actually visit this site often. I shouldn't be gone too long.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Honeybees <br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"> All the honeybees have gone<br />somewhere far from here<br />A great escape<br />to 1968<br />and all its sleepy ways. "Surely"<br />She says<br />"You must be crazy<br />for all the weeping<br />you've missed.<br /><br />God, damn, you must be crazy."<br /><br /><br />She sleeps away <br />the sunlight, claims<br />she's seen enough <br />and the praise is misplaced.<br />Doesn't like the nights<br />alone.<br />Chain smoking bootlegged cigarettes<br />while her children<br />dream. "Surely" <br />She says<br />"You must be heartless<br />for hanging around<br />as you have.<br /><br />Dear God you must be heartless."<br /><br />She fixes herself tea<br />milk and too much sugar<br />before the sun<br />can show his evasive face.<br />Sips<br />Gets lost in thoughts of honeybees<br />and sleeps away the day.<br /><br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-50948651181100420362008-08-27T01:15:00.007-04:002009-07-07T00:06:00.642-04:00The More You Say, The Less They Remember<span style="font-family:georgia;">Boo!<br />I live and breathe. Isn't that an odd saying? How would one live without breathing or vice versa? Alas, I digress. <br />'Ello all, 'ow the 'ell are ya? I'm doing alright. Been a bit of a mental hermit, but that happens to the ol' River Man too damn often to consider special. I've been writing. I've been drinking. I've been working. I've been aimlessly staring at the wall whilst sitting in my boxers and fighting the male urge to grab the old gents due to the healing stab wound in my left palm. Porcelain should only be broken by hand when you are a lawless teenager. I'm too old for that nonsense, I've learned. Meanwhile, when it comes to social interaction, my box has been empty. And in that, I've withdrawn into the aforementioned mental hermit stage. I'll be out soon, but in the mean time I don't feel like engaging in too much verbal meandering. On top of it all, I just awoke from a nap. I call it a nap, because if I say it is my damned in ability to get a straight nights sleep, I'll just get pissed off again. Instead, I say I've adopted the fun habit of a filling my nights with a series of naps. Isn't that superb? <br />Oh. Go watch the following movies:<br />The Man From Earth (a couple cheesy moments + cheesy ending but an overall damn good flick)<br />The Air I Breath (damn good flick)<br />Gabriel (need I say it again?).<br /><br />These have not been suggestions.<br /><br />Go, watch. <br />No, wait. Read this first.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Reign <br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">TEMPORARILY REMOVED <br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-84347304954774721402008-07-27T21:28:00.003-04:002008-07-27T21:37:19.892-04:00Many a False Step is Made by Standing Still<span style="font-family:georgia;">Greetin's readers. No long winded jazz tonight. I'm a bit out of the babbling mood. Having done nothing productive or even reasonably close to 'active' in the last 4 days or so... (not counting a short bike ride and shorter walk), I'm brain dead. Odd, but nevertheless true.<br /><br />Here's a piece that I want to play around with a lot more. I'll probably post a highly edited version in a few months. Why post it now, you ask? Because I want to damnit. <br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Sonido Del Alma<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Rising above those angels<br />Flesh<br />In aluminum and faith.<br />July,<br />Like the hide of alligators,<br />Wears gaudy <br />And magnificent.<br />Those angels<br />Find rest beneath the wings of men<br />solace with god-awful breath<br />and an inflated ego…<br />softly seducing sleep<br />with sententious verse <br />they can’t recall the origin of:<br />This is the sound<br />The soul makes when <br />decamping<br />This is dread for doctors,<br />Parents,<br />Children.<br />This is the sound<br />The soul makes when <br />decamping.<br /><br />Mother forgive me<br />I’ve cursed your name<br />And now taste salt in effect.<br /><br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-50994690609517016362008-07-25T21:29:00.005-04:002008-07-26T00:09:42.326-04:00The Apple's Lost Its Shine<span style="font-family:georgia;">As per an agreement I made with myself during an early rebuild, I have to address any listless feelings within 48 hours of their arrival. That didn't work out very well, so somewhere a few versions later I decided a week was a fair amount of time to hammer out the dents. Well, I returned to New York feeling out of sorts and have found the source of my woes in only 5 days. Celebration.<br />Pardon me, readers. Happy Friday. How have you been since we last spoke? High spirits and such, I hope. I've spent the last 48 hours watching Scrubs. Not the entire 48 of course, but most of the waking hours. Seasons 7, 1 and half of 2, to be exact. My mother -the TV worshiping doll that she is- would be proud of me, I'm sure. More on that at a later time, mayhaps.<br /> Yes, so what is the source of my aforementioned woes, you ask so sympathetically? (What... you didn't ask? Too damn bad. Read on.) I had this whole fallout a while back regarding whether or not research is where I really want to be. Ultimately, I put the decision off... but I hid it behind a thin veil of 'yes, it is'. I think I've come to the final conclusion in the last couple of days that it isn't where I want to be at all. I'd just grow to hate it more and more until I become the mess that I see in 95% of the scientists I encounter annually. I've realized something about myself that I think I knew the whole time. I can't be one thing... not really. My mind wanders too much. As a kid, when shit got to rough in the drug-filled foodless existence I called home, I would crack open some random fantasy/sci-fi book and I was gone. My mother was no longer doing the fiend lean on the couch, I wasn't running to the park summer afternoons cause it was one of the few places to catch a legal free meal (meals were few and far between at that time) - I was a fucking warrior battling every manner of dragon, orc and alien. As I got older, I spread my zone of escape to the wonders of film. Private I's, explorers, super heroes and any other character I could assume the role of for a couple days was welcome. The negative aspects of this all being that I would confuse my mental adventures with my actual ones. This was socially detrimental for a while, as I was generally considered a bullshit artist. I got over the confusion, or I got better at bullshitting, which is the truth I'm still not sure. <br /> Either way, I still walk into a room and within the first few minutes woo the cutest girl, kill the nearest threat and escape amazingly through a window or hidden doorway. This isn't always the standard storyline, but my point is I haven't gotten over my wonderful mental adventures. I grow wings at least once a day... again, digression. I think it's this whole dig that made me become a writer. I began chronicling and creating more of these bits. It's why I love writing. I'm free when I write. I'm my own brand of crazy and it is beneficial. That is also why the science gig might not work. My brand isn't meant for the confines of a lab coat and the same four walls. I should probably be in show business, but I haven't enough manic spouts to counter the self doubting periods. Teaching will continue to suffice, I suppose. I think my love for teaching comes from the performance aspect of it. I'm not #### to those people, hell I'm not even the River Man... I'm whomever has the reins to this beast of a body at that time.<br /> I've babbled on about all of this to get to the point that I no longer want to do research. Not seriously, at least. I may dabble in it for a bit and I will probably get my doctorate, but research is no longer my end all. I'm going to keep on with this writing jammie, 'cause I have a feeling my previously mentioned bag of crazy just might be hiding something that will get me noticed. And everyone knows how I loved to be noticed.<br /> As a side note, a few people who read this probably know me well enough to know that, even if I've never done something before, I'll assume I know everything about it and can do it first time out the gate. Chances are I might even claim to have seen something on it, or read something, or (forgive me) that I've done it before. Some have been astounded by my ability to actually appear as if my BS is valid, others see right through it. Either way, in these instances, I'm not fully lying. Chances are I've done it so many times in my head, I'm a friggin' pro by the time I have to do it for real. Or... feel like a pro. And confidence is half the battle. <br />Enough of this deep look into the mind of the River Man. Onto some damned verse. Enjoy.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Arizona<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">And he wonders why he falls <br />So easily<br />Like the ink to this page<br />The mosquito to light bulb<br />Love finds him and prowls<br />The areas of himself<br />That he can never seem to find<br /><br />The song is sung<br />A thousand times <br /><br />Will enters<br /><br /> Bus<br /> Train<br /> Airport<br /><br />Eye contact<br />His heart tap dances <br />Against his ribcage<br />His mind writes <br />A detailed story of their love<br />The intimate moments<br />Sleeping in on a Sunday morning<br />Nightlong conversations<br />And that awkward first utterance<br />Of the word he’s never said aloud before <br />But has worn lame in thought<br /><br />Seconds crawl by<br />And with a blink<br />Inevitably, she looks away<br />Inevitably, He sits<br />Silently lamenting his inhibition<br />And his broken heart<br /><br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-58606755921687821532008-07-24T01:44:00.003-04:002008-07-24T14:58:20.949-04:00The Pleasure Of What We Enjoy Is Lost By Wanting More<span style="font-family:georgia;">Greetin's readers. Happy Thursday and all that. So I am back in The Bronx. I'll tell ya, I've never loved this city more. That may be a lie -- honestly I'm not sure. I did miss it though. Los Angeles is an alright place, just not my cup of tea. Then again, I was only there for a total of maybe (and this is being generous) 72 hours. San Fransisco is awesome, aside from the weather being shit. It's July, San Fran, warm the hell up. Overall though, my favorite city from the trip is definitely Seattle. I could see myself moving there for a short stint. Though, I was informed by a lovely drunken gent at some pub that the men outnumber the women about 5:1, so I may have to find and bring the mrs. first. Not his exact words, but then again I use gent purely out of respect and not because it fit his delivery of this information. All in all, a good trip.<br />I wish I had the urge to divulge all the details of the trip, but in truth I don't. In short, LA (shitty bar), Drive, San Fran (Cold, great people, nice park, nice skyline, Alcatraz!, Coit Tower, crooked street), Berkeley (nice school, nice tree, awesome library, good food, disrespectful peon hot dog vendor), drive, red woods (simultaneously amazing and monotonous), drive, Seattle (first Starbucks, Space Needle, great beer, great people, great vibe, awesome dog, good music, beautiful cityscape), all night drive (lots of coffee, more coffee, even more coffee, lots of bathroom breaks due to coffee), San Fran (great people again, good night), LA (good food, great people, nice bar, The Dark Knight), flight home (red eye... couldn't sleep). <br />Hope you enjoyed. Now, I wrote a few pieces while I was away. Not as many as I'd hoped for, but honestly more than I expected. I just finished the first edit of this. I'll scan a couple others for the next few days. Enjoy and good night.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Another Monday Night<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">It’s midnight half a world away <br />He assures<br />Himself slipping the blue Tuesday tie<br />Around his neck,<br />Monday night<br />Sometime in July.<br />He’d lost count of days<br />Since the seventeenth of December.<br />His firefly<br />Making snow angels<br />In the freshly layered<br />Yard<br />When she should have owned the skies<br />A week before.<br />He’d counted his blessings <br />In marshmallows floating just below <br />The cloud <br />Of steam rising from the mug <br />He’d carried to her,<br />Hot chocolate – her favorite winter drink.<br />Her mother<br />Used to have it waiting<br />When she would come home from school.<br />It was fitting,<br />This parting.<br />They’d met <br />Over hot chocolate and snow angels<br />In her parents yard<br />So many years before.<br />He’d been too much of a man to lie<br />Down beside her then,<br />So he admired her from above.<br />This day though, he sat <br />the mug just below<br />The arc of her left wing <br />Lowered himself<br />Just far enough that their hands occasionally brushed together.<br />She took hold of his,<br />Thumb gently working <br />Into his palm. Slowing. Stopping.<br />So she could admire him from above,<br />At least that’s what he imagined -<br />Still. Sipping his Irish breakfast tea<br />Mulling over <br />The revolver in his lap<br />The bullet in his hand<br />Another Monday night.<br />Load. Spin. Cock. Place. Smile. Squeeze.<br /><br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-19671561735201485932008-07-10T01:25:00.004-04:002008-11-02T01:39:36.818-05:00It's going to hurt...<span style="font-family:georgia;"> 'Ello and all that jazz. How fare ye? Good, I do hope. Happy Thursday. And happy July at that. A friend of mine recently asked why I often open with 'Happy [day of the week]', citing his disbelief that there is such a thing as a 'happy Monday'. After making a Garfield joke in my head (I told ya, I'm a dork), I explained my view that we should be happy for every day that we get to take another breath. My saying 'Happy Tuesday' is not a celebration that it <i>is</i> Tuesday, but rather that we both <i>made</i> it to that particular Tuesday. Think of it this way- today is Thursday, July 10th 2008. No one has ever experienced a Thursday, July 10th 2008 before today and they will never hereafter (barring the unlikely invention of a time machine... in which case... fucking bastards. <b><i>I</i></b> would like to play with the time machine...). This is your once in a lifetime opportunity to make Thursday, July 10th 2008 the best damned Thursday, July 10th 2008 possible. Good luck with that, and Happy Thursday. <br /><br />I'm currently finishing getting ready to head out again. I feel like I just got back from Mexico, now I'm headed to LA for a west coast road trip. LA to San Francisco, onward to Portland and up to Seattle before heading back down to LA. Atleast, I think that's the plan. When one has the memory of a mentally challenged goldfish, things get fuzzy. I often wonder if it isn't early onset Alzheimer's. Not a single member of my family has been spared. Maybe I'm unlucky enough to bear the load early. Heaven forbid. Off of this depressing digression, yes? <br /><br />I've been sleeping so sporadically lately. Sleepless nights and midday naps. Mexico somehow threw off my entire sleep cycle, and I was only in an hour difference. Cali just might kill me. Neh... I have a feeling it's going to be a good getaway, if unwise financially. This recession is really a bitch... that and all this debt. I'm down to rob a bank -- any takers? C'mon... a man can't pull that off alone... not smoothly. Don't you people watch movies? I need atleast another 5. 4 of you might die though, and the remaining one will probably turn on me in some grandiose plan to secure the millions for his/herself... until thwarted by my cleverly planned counter-stab. But we could disregard this knowledge and let it all play out - what do ya say?<br />Yes. This is what the River Man babbles about at a quarter after 2 in the morning. <br /><br />Onward with the poemtry. I'll be back on the 20... should have written a bit on the trip. See you then. <br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Truth(Hope)<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">He sits, <br />this man (we shall name <br />him later) worked to the bone, <br />atop a small hill <br />of the greenest grass <br />imaginable (no, greener) <br />- learning to fly. <br />Humming softly a tale <br />of dragonflies courting the wind (sweet <br />maiden's breath).<br />The night sky <br />black as love <br />lost and buried somewhere <br />the mind won't dare venture, <br />where dear memory <br />abjures (there are some merits <br />in forgetfulness).<br />William sits (as promised, a name) <br />and contemplates <br />wings to carry him away, his mother's<br />voice as sweet as honey <br />to his ear (she would often speak <br />in song): "One must either <br />learn to fly or prepare to fall, <br />this world won't care <br />which you choose <br />when it pulls away <br />from your feet." <br />He sits, does William, <br />on a trembling hill<br />- the greenest grass one could <br />never imagine, patiently learning <br />to fly. <br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-20025725120264206672008-07-03T00:18:00.005-04:002008-11-02T01:40:51.346-05:00<span style="font-family:georgia;">Greetin's peoples of the blog reading variety. I be the River Man, happy. How be ye? <br />Just got back from Mexico yesterday. I headed down to Merida for this year's ASPB meeting. What is the ASPB, you ask?? Why, that is the American Society of Plant Biologists. Yes, I am that cool. It was a good get away though. The food was horrible. If you are from the Yucatan (which, looking at my stats, I know you're not. All my repeat visitors are New Yorkers. Do I know you all??), I apologize... but it is true. The cuisine of Merida fails to satiate my pallet. What more can I say? Headed to see some ruins while there --Dzi something or another. Very, very cool. I have a fascination with past civilizations. Could have been a History major if it didn't seem so damn boring overall.<br />Anyway, the River Man has indeed returned to NY. Not entirely happily. But really, what can you do?<br />I have much to say... but no time to say it. Tomorrow, perhaps. I'm off to organic chemistry. Sleep well, dear readers.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Cutlass<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Have you not learned yet, boy?<br />Wastefully pitching pennies into fountains<br />and buckets<br />and every manner of water filled vessel. <br />Running yourself ragged<br />with thought<br />and sick of ink stains.<br />Descending through the delicate white<br />of a cloud covering close to her.<br />Hurrying,<br />before the sun can consider rising,<br />to that bench <br />beside a midtown apartment<br />to serenade the stars,<br />seducing them into sending her<br />a enamoring dream of you.<br />You really haven't learned yet, have you boy?<br /><br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-40021494928029755232008-06-23T17:02:00.004-04:002008-07-08T13:51:47.994-04:00Happy Endings<span style="font-family:georgia;">Greetin's and all that jazz, dear readers. How the hell are ya? I'm fine; thanks for asking. I know... I should have updated on Saturday... but shit happens. The shit can be generally summed up as alcohol. Too much alcohol. I was done a couple times over. That night I went to a sushi at a friends house. In Harlem. I know... Harlem and Sushi are not two ideas you'd typically link together. Nevertheless, it was a sushi and saki party in Harlem... on a Friday night. <br />I didn't really touch the saki. I'm not big on it. I did, however, annihilate about two bottles of plum wine. Throw in a couple shots of gin, a couple cups of cranberry and vodka, a shot of jose, a few beers and a glass of henny [more or less in that order] and you have one fucked up River Man. <br />One of the good outcomes, though, was a connection. I met some guy who'd lived in France and got involved with the whole Parkour scene. A scene I've been trying to dive into for about 3 years now. He seems interested in making a crew and getting some things done -- we'll see if it all pans out. <br />So, needless to say, Saturday was spent in recoup. Saturday night I had some 'hair of the dog' therapy. D and I killed a half a bottle of Patron.<br />Sunday... I don't know what the hell I did Sunday. Damn memory problems...<br /><br />Fun fun. Onward with the piece.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">10,957<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Turning Thirty<br />felt wrong.<br />At 12:00 AM I recalled<br />a drunken conversation<br />from years before.<br />"Guys like us...<br />We ain't meant to make it to 30."<br />We'd laugh<br />proud of the prevalence <br />for a early demise <br />in our world.<br /><br />Jay lived up to his word<br />taking 2 shots in the chest<br />at twenty-three.<br /><br />Hector overdosed at twenty-four<br />speedballing in his mothers house<br />at 2 in the morning.<br /><br />Eddy was convicted at twenty-five,<br />25 to life.<br />He lost the latter at twenty-eight<br />over a lunch tray.<br /><br />Rich almost made it,<br />twenty-nine,<br />-- at least he left a son behind.<br /><br />12:00 AM<br />and I wondered why <br />I was still alive.<br />At every funeral<br />the preacher repeated<br />"The good die young."<br /><br />I found myself <br />repeating their words.<br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-19636126576301455322008-06-14T13:56:00.003-04:002008-06-21T16:37:50.303-04:00<span style="font-family:georgia;">Heylo all. Happy Saturday and such. How was your week? I've been burnt out for the most part this week. Work, class and personal jazz.<br />It would appear I'm facing the music of my last fucked up semester in a number of ways. Beside the blow to the GPA and the extended time of schooling, I also owe the bastards extra money that must be paid before the start of the fall semester. Whoo-hoo. This is what I get for a series of shitty decisions. Here they are, in 'never do this' form.<br />A) Never allow the burned out friend whom you know to have become a loser since the days of yer youth crash at your place for an extended period of time.<br /> The River Man allowed an old pal to call the River Pad home for far too long. This led to our River Man's mind reverting to that of a 15 year old substance abuser. Only, the matured parts wouldn't allow anymore hardcore substance abuse, so our dear River Man became an alcoholic for a wee-bit. No No for real life.<br />B) Never begin to hang out with the burnt out friends new friends.<br /> This one was straight logic... shit attracts flies. Neither are the better in that scenario. But, alas, our foolish River Man dove headlong into the pool of irresponsibility and almost drowned because of it. Fucking idiot.<br />C) Always keep your number one goal your own advancement.<br /> I knew this... but ya know what. I said fuck it to the whole thing. Not an excuse. A sad truth.<br /><br />But... I'm back motherfuckers. You may all return to your places of River worship. (Missed me, didn't ya?)<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Cold<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">He couldn't disappear,<br />He was already gone<br />long before I was ever born.<br />The news caught up with me<br />at noon.<br />I was working then<br />cleaning buildings in the city<br />for shit pay<br />when she called <br />Hysterical.<br />I cried for her,<br />but made sure not to shed a tear<br />for him.<br /><br />I created stories in my mind<br />beside his box<br />of the honorable man laying<br />on the maroon satin lining. <br />Tailored fine memories <br />of basketball games<br />and fishing trips<br />and anything I could think of <br />to later tell my children.<br />"My father took me hiking <br />when I was your age."<br />I'd lie, so they could feel involved<br />in some long standing tradition.<br />So I could feel he wasn't just<br />some household accessory all those years.<br /><br />But the truth will remain the truth<br />whether dressed in fancy red satin<br />or cheap, knotted pine.<br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-57295689027599927722008-06-07T13:20:00.002-04:002008-06-07T13:21:26.191-04:00<span style="font-family:georgia;">To keep up though, here is a pre-edit piece.<br /></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">A Decent Earning<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Summer heat<br />Window ajar and welcoming<br />every manner of summer insect<br />with half the sense to follow<br />the seductive flickering of<br />a candle by my windowsill.<br />Lit for the sake of scent, I claim<br />but in truth, I care little for<br />the vanilla rising from its flame.<br />I light it for the excuse<br />to touch the books of matches<br />strewn across my room -<br />relics of a past cast aside. <br />I no longer long for tobacco<br />(most of the time)<br />The oral fixation is gone<br />The tactile fixation is gone<br />I do so miss the lighting, though.<br />Primitive desire, I suppose<br />but in our modern world<br />fire<br />hands on fire,<br />is preserved for survivalists <br />and country homes.<br />And the striking of a match<br />serves to satiate my <br />city boy pyro blues.<br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-49116513103220714822008-06-07T12:35:00.002-04:002008-06-07T13:10:34.751-04:00Gwan Do Ya Ting<span style="font-family:georgia;">'Eylo all. Happy Saturday. How was the week to ya? Pleasant, I hope. Mine was just fine. A decent mix of work and play. Made some purchases this week, most of which were wholly unnecessary, but would I truely be the River Man if, in times of manic upswing, I didn't buy some shit I didn't need? Please, don't strain yourselves. The answer is no. Luckily, I was in control enough to not make major purchases, as I have in the past. Though, in defense of myself, most of my major purchases turned out to be good ideas: A new computer (this one), A new computer for my sister (aw, isn't he so sweet?), that bottle of Henny XO (mmmm, that was a good buy). On the other hand, I've had some notably stupid and unnecessary buys: The TV incident (two large TVs, two days - one tiny apartment...), the couch incident (I thought it would fit in my house, I really did...) and other such gems.<br />The purchases this time, though, are minor... sort of. The biggest buy and thus making it the most unnecessary is the new phone I bought. Pantech Duo. After rebates and discounts for upgrades, I will have spent about $200. Did I need a new phone? Not really. Did I need a smartphone? Nope. Did I even <i>want</i> it when I put the order through? Eh.. sort of. If I come to my senses, I'll sell it this week. <br />I also got a juicer, as part of my new 'must get healthy' kick. I quit smoking, started doing some of my old calisthenic routines, took up boxing for endurance, and have now begun drinking fresh made veggie/fruit juice mixes. I used to be is such great shape, it pisses me the hell off. If I flex, I can still see 3 or 4 of my once chiseled 8 pack. My obliques have long since vanished into obscurity. Arms lost all sense of definition, forearms shrunk a good 3 inches beside losing definition... so on and so forth throughout the River Man entirety. <br />I don't understand how I let it happen, either. I used to enjoy working out. Time to enjoy it again. And to drink some fresh juice after... yeah, we'll see if that part happens.<br />Other purchases: RAM, a SD card for the phone, a decent luggage set (for all my travels), a new hoodie (mind you... it's summer), boxing equipment, and something else... I just can't think of what the hell it is. Eh, money comes - money goes. I just gotta learn to slow down the going. <br /><br />Today's piece is proof that I don't let these rough drafts rot on this blog; I edit damn near ever poem I post on this site. Some I edit a few times. Some I scrap, and they remain here like ghosts. This piece was posted some time ago, edited a while back too, but... it's proof. So, yesh, enjoy.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Late Night Drive<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Hung over<br />Chasing phantoms in a<br />Fog covered field<br />Grass flicking morning dew<br />Onto my feet.<br /><br />Mem’ries rise like <br />Clouds of smoke<br />And lines of white<br />Draping the sky in<br />Love lost<br />Longed for<br />Hung <br />From Orion’s belt<br /><br />Dangling <br />Dangling in the cold moonlight<br />Peeking through the trees<br />Caressing the crowded leaves<br />And love’s lonely toes.<br /><br />Love’s stolen bones,<br />In heaps beside unruly bushes,<br />Reek of horse manure <br />and mint leaves.<br /><br />And youth…<br />Laughs at me.<br />Giggling somewhere unseen<br />Strung to a lattice <br />Of painted metal beams;<br />Crimson metal beams.<br /><br />A lone thought, amidst the scenery, summons me:<br /><br />OF all the things I’ve been<br />I think I liked myself the most<br /> And I wish so goddamn hard<br /> That I could find him<br /> Out here<br /> In this haze.<br /><br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-31533633674906403682008-06-03T13:40:00.005-04:002008-07-08T14:00:36.389-04:00<span style="font-family:georgia;">I just read the last poem to myself a couple times and laughed. I make a reference to my long hair in that poem, a reference so rarely made in my work and a reference never before posted here. I laughed because I recently cut my hair for the first time in 8 years -not counting trimmings to make sure it didn't go too far down my back. So yesh, The River Man has short hair now. An inside joke, I suppose, but nevertheless I laughed. And now you know.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Twenty-Two<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">They call me a dreamer<br />because I believe in the sky<br />and dangle lines of verse<br />from the stars at night.<br />But how would it feel<br />to grow old and die<br />without a destination in mind?<br /><br />I don't want to know.<br /><br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-401525063177516002008-06-03T13:04:00.009-04:002008-07-27T21:42:52.766-04:00Trust Your Intuition... The Universe Is Guiding Your Life<span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />EDIT: I'm getting a lot of traffic to this page because of the title. If you did google that amazing saying up there, do not be disappointed. Look around the blog. The poem in this post is admittedly subpar, but it was posted for a purpose. Click on the huge banner and scroll a bit. In the end though, if you don't like the vibe, trust your intuition. It won't steer you wrong.<br /><br />'Ello River fans. Happy June. Sorry for the hiatus again, life can be a time consuming sunuvabich sometimes. It's been very strange in River land... every time I'm inspired to write, all I write are stories. This isn't too bizarre, as I've always enjoyed writing short stories, but normally their appearance was evenly dispersed amongst the poems. Stories have been dominating lately. It might have been due to my shot at screen writing, a side project I'm still half engaged in. My first film idea has shifted dramatically from its origins. Maybe I'll post some scenes on here after I shoot them. <br />So far as the old writing a moleskine worth of poems a month, I figure I'll get back to that sometime in July. I forgot how easy it is to be prolific when you have nothing else to do. Last year this time I essentially said 'Fuck the world' and went on a literary journey. I wrote a lot, but got very little done in real life. Reminded me of the movie Pinero - "Anyone can be an amazing poet if they have no responsibilities." That might not be the exact quote... but you get the point. So, upon returning to real life, I have been shell shocked in my writing. <br />I somewhat fear for the future of my work. I'm going after a doctorate... that can't be good for the free time deal. Eh... there is balance in everything that requires balance. I'll find a way.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Cold Tea<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">And she wonders why I want her heart.<br />She seems confused by all the things I do.<br />Searches for the motive behind this dance...<br />But I can hardly explain myself these days<br />-A clever ruse to guard my chest.<br />She presses on and questions my intentions,<br />Demands to know what I want from her.<br />When I answer "You"<br />She seems suspicious <br />of this long-haired Latino's sentiment<br />and asks again<br />"River Man, <br /> Why is it my heart you wish to have..?"<br /><br />Because you already have a hold on mine.<br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com111tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-56390477059423916662008-05-12T21:39:00.003-04:002008-05-12T22:08:10.448-04:00<span style="font-family:georgia;">'Lo dear readers. Happy Monday. <br />Ya know, I read a few blogs here and there and often see the 'I had so much stuff I wanted to talk about but now I can't remember it' post. When I see this, I usually shake my head, questioning the point of even mentioning it. Why not just shuddup until you <i>do</i> have something to say? Well... now I understand. On the bus to work I came up with what I believe was an awesome topic to write about tonight. I do know that it occupied just about the entire hour long ride. What I do not know is what the hell it was... and this absolutely void where even a shred of an idea should be is damn annoying. If I had the slightest idea I could build upon it... but nope. Where the thought was is now empty. In fact, when I do try to think of it, I end up starring at the wall for 5-10 minutes straight. So, it is not empty. It has been replaced by a mental vacuum. Hooray. <br />Either way, it was good damnit. Really, really good.<br />Onward with the poemtry. A short one. <br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;"> Not Quite<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">It's true...<br />my past was written<br />in ashes and scar tissue.<br /><br />These eyes have seen <br />many sundry things...<br /><br />But never before had they seen you<br /><br />and in that<br />they were inexperienced<br />and misfortuned. <br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-90403821933459306592008-05-10T21:05:00.005-04:002008-05-11T11:04:58.205-04:00Air Fuels Fire<span style="font-family:georgia;"> WHAT?!?! Could it be? Two back to back days of posting?! My word, who are you and what have you done with The River Man??<br />To which I reply: Shuddup.<br />Hello, readers. I hope I find you all in high spirits and a relaxed Saturday vibe of some sort. I can't say the same, thanks to my fine skill for procrastinating. I've a huge paper to do, and two work and class filled weeks to do it. "But River Man.." You will undoubtedly ask "Haven't you known about that paper for about 5 months now?"<br />To which I will reply: Shuddup.<br />No, in all honestly, I've got to work on my time management. I've always relied on what I whimsically referred to as my 'last minute magic' but I do believe that my few years are beginning to dull the ol' noggin' -- 'Cause the magic just ain't what it used to be. <br />In other news, I received my much awaited stimulus check. $600.00 here and gone before I could draw a second breath. It was good, though. A couple bills we bearing fangs and poised to strike. I've managed to distract them momentarily. Thank you, failing economy. <br />Two days of near political conversation. Am I actually starting to give a damn about this country? It would appear so. Eh, the old noggin' loses one thing and picks up another, I suppose. Balance in all things, young grasshoppers.<br />Onward to tonight's piece... well... in a moment (my time of course) because I misplaced the bloody book it was written in. Only I can lose something that was just in my hands without moving an inch...<br />Okay. Somehow it was on the dresser across the room. Today's piece was written, I'd say, about 3 weeks ago on the bus ride to work. It seems it's another wrap around poem. <br />Onward with the enjoying.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Maybe..<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">It should have been <br />a warmer day<br />-perhaps.<br /><br />Or slightly later<br />in the night<br />-maybe.<br /><br />It should have turned out differently<br />of that much,<br />I'm sure.<br /><br />And I recalled,<br />in the valley of that moment,<br />something a friendly enemy<br />had once told me:<br /><br />"Babe Ruth had two specialties:<br />Hitting home runs<br />and striking out."<br /><br />Well, it's been a while<br />since I've made contact<br />but I'll sure as hell keep swinging.<br /><br />Next time though,<br />I'll do it on a warmer day<br />and slightly closer to the night<br /><br />--just to be sure.<br /><br /> <br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-79529796194388058032008-05-09T19:04:00.006-04:002009-07-07T00:08:52.391-04:00Rain and Hunger<span style="font-family:georgia;">Heylo there, mine readers. How fare thee this Friday eve? I'm tired... but really now... are you surprised? Other than that, all is well. I got my passport a couple days ago meaning it took all of a week and a day or two to get the damn thing. And I was going to be a fool and expedite the damn thing. Maroon. I thought there was some sort of crazy delay? Eh, I'm not complaining. Way to go, government -- on this topic atleast. Whoa, no worries. This is a politic free zone, I assure. Religion and Politics are two of the most pitiful things to fight over, in my opinion. And my opinion is golden, damnit. Therefore those things should not be argued about henceforth. <br />Heh... fat chance of that, aye?<br />Onward with the verse, mine readers.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">By Chance<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><br />TEMPORARILY REMOVED<br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-22722745496765875062008-04-29T10:59:00.002-04:002008-04-29T11:06:39.184-04:00<span style="font-family:georgia;">Heh... a little homage to my spoken word days, inspired recently.<br /><br />Now I'm off to get my passport. Later, mine readers.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Tea before bed<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">If I might recite <br />my finest lines in mind to you.<br />For you. About you.<br />I doubt you can imagine<br />the difficulty I'm having<br />in not kissing you...<br />holding you...<br />or just grabbing your hand<br />and declaring my affection<br />with a collection of words<br />seemingly invented with<br />the intention of my one day<br />using them to get your attention<br />and then when I have you immersed in verse<br />and think I've got a chance to advance <br />on you in person.... like this...<br />with the softest kiss...<br />lips to lips<br />heart to heart<br />in bliss.<br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-76426585643657402102008-04-29T10:50:00.001-04:002008-05-09T19:58:42.988-04:00<span style="font-family:georgia;">Some random nonsense from an untitled series...<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Dear Eros..<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"> <br />I've loved as youth often loves -<br />feverishly and conditionally.<br />A raging blaze quickly consuming itself...<br />And these infernos have suited<br />my often chilled heart<br />as a warm breath can ease icy fingers --<br /><br />Momentarily. <br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-42602348894227396062008-04-29T10:34:00.003-04:002008-11-02T01:45:14.315-05:00April Closer<span style="font-family:georgia;">Greetings, all. How was yer month of April? Seems I'd gone AWOL again there. But alas, I've come back - declaring my return as usual. So how the hell are you all? How is the River Man, you ask? Peachy keen, actually. Normally I'd be dripping with sarcasm when I say that, but I'm serious this time! I've been feeling pretty good lately. Back on track, and all that jazz. <br />I'm not too happy with the direction my word is heading, but that is only because of what I've been reading/listening to. Many poets don't realize the influence <i>everything</i> around them has on their work. That Sexton-tribute that preceded this post was written while I was on a confessionalism binge. To be honest, I really love that piece. I'll have to tweak it a bit, see if I can't make it a bit smoother around the edges. <br />Yes, onto the more recent pieces. I'm going to purposely omit one that I've posted elsewhere because, upon further inspection, it needs too much work to see the light of day. The following, however, I enjoyed writing because it allowed me to delve back into the life of one of my favorite characters - William Purtell. Enjoy.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Mother<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"> Such sour scented women<br />you surround yourself with, Will.<br /><br />Clumsy bags of sunshine,<br />mother used to say<br />with little in the way of explanation.<br /><br />"Who needs such frills?"<br />She'd quip in regard<br />to her lack of detail.<br /><br />"The finer reasons why...<br />those are a divine lot<br />not intended for man.<br />Everything you know as truth<br />is true.<br />All the rest are lies."<br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-39433294534385084602008-04-10T16:26:00.006-04:002009-07-07T00:12:18.566-04:00Botherable<span style="font-family:georgia;">'ello readers. How fare thee, denizens of this playnet Earf? I'm pretty bloody good mineself. Clearing out the old brain-basket. Getting myself in order. It's been too long since I've been in order. <br />This will have to be a short talk, mine friend, I have work.. and am already running late. That much hasn't changed. Enjoy.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;"> My Dear Mrs. Sexton<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">TEMPORARILY REMOVED<br /><br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-85914077913536732932008-04-07T14:26:00.001-04:002008-04-07T14:29:01.028-04:00And Runeth on...<span style="font-family:georgia;"> A jumbled mess from the Purtell series.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Requiem for the Moon<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><br />O! Sacred lunacy<br />Moon born madness<br />Born on a cold night<br />Bed of glass beneath her back<br />Onlookers hiding behind<br />Their dirty, bedraggled curtains<br /><br />O! What words have I<br />To fill this noble cause<br />Of life? Dear life.<br />What right in telling<br />Of it's trouble<br />What judgment in my youth<br />Surely, these queries<br />Be asked of me.<br />Surely their answers tailored<br />To fit their finest idea<br />Of my image<br /><br />If, by you, my image<br />Is to be found on page<br />In ink. I say it is<br />Better found, perhaps,<br />On midnight train rides<br />In darkened windowpanes.<br /><br />"O!" They will say – seeing me<br />"O! It is you, who wears youth<br />Like a disease. You who is<br />Curled and<br />sick with lack of years<br />Whom we found clutching<br />His stomach by the rose garden.<br />Sick beside the angelicas<br />Ill beside the lilies.<br />Beaten by stone and river.<br />Bloodied and bruised and laughing<br /><br />To which, I could only reply<br />"No, Not I. It is not I."<br /><br />Standing tall there<br />Against plain white walls<br />Stained with dusk<br />Empty was I<br />A pen run dry<br />A page left blank<br /><br />During this dawn of green<br />Discontent.<br />A symphony carved of cement<br />You were there,<br />Sipping coffee in<br />The early hours<br />Of the morning;<br />Speaking of me<br />Sipping lager in<br />The later hours<br />Of the night.<br /><br />Sad<br /> lovely<br /> forsaken things<br />You and I<br />By the riverside reposed<br />Riverside<br />Cigarette smoke – thick<br />And overbearing.<br /><br />Like this lasting gloom<br />We wore around our<br />Quivering bodies.<br />The sweet recluse<br />Of this.<br />Our dear moon<br />walked the<br />Hardwood<br />With sunshine at her feet<br />O How I loved her<br /><br />How I held her<br />In my eye<br />A Queen<br />Born<br />from the blinking eyes<br />Of angels.<br />And she would nestle me<br />whispering<br />"Dear, the company you keep<br />Is better kept afar."<br /><br />I sipped her advice,<br />Generously given,<br />Beneath these ashen stars<br />Burned into the ceiling.<br />Lighting my cigarette,<br />She offered more<br />And I softly replied<br />"Thank you – but<br />I've had enough to drink tonight."<br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-73605445347638660962008-04-07T14:25:00.002-04:002008-04-07T14:25:50.573-04:00And Runeth...<span style="font-family:georgia;">An early piece from the William Purtell series.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Frostbitten Footprints<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"> <br />I've held the fleeting<br /> teardrops of the moon,<br />A sylph lazily<br /> caressing my back,<br />Undine tenderly<br /> rubbing my feet.<br /><br />Were you awake, then?<br /><br />My breath tracing its way<br /> through November air.<br />My hand tracing its way<br /> along your November flesh.<br /> You were asleep, my love,<br /> and in sooth I poured the sand. <br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-72561784629427772652008-04-07T14:22:00.003-04:002008-04-07T14:24:25.219-04:00Runeth...<span style="font-family:georgia;">This piece was scribbled onto the back of a postcard I had in my pocket while up on my uncles property. It was during the first rebuild.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Casanovia<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"> Take the time<br />in youth to<br />Follow the flames<br />down<br />Ledger Lane Road,<br />just past<br />the bones of old<br />Patrick's farm lay<br /><br />Cazenovia Hill.<br /><br />Beneath the birch,<br />bare and tall<br />and ghostly white<br />some claim angels<br />come to sing,<br />others hear<br />the Devil's song.<br /><br />My uncle swears<br />he heard that<br />birch,<br />beautiful and bare<br />whisper death<br />into his ear.<br /><br />I've not much to say for that tree.<br /><br />I've Less to say of that hill.<br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-39326228632070611062008-04-07T14:16:00.003-04:002008-11-02T01:47:24.782-05:00And the River runeths again...<span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />And so I return. It's been quite some time, aye? Well... in the time away I lost myself... a couple of times. I'm in the process of rebuilding. It should be a while but I have high hopes for the new version of River Man.<br /><br />I've done a bit of writing. I'll post some of it today. But first I want to post some random thought I typed up about a year ago. I just found it and thought it suitable to post at this time. <br /><br />To fill in, recently a good friend of mine passed on and it really made me think about where I am going with life. It is unfortunate that sometimes it takes death to remind you of life. This post won't be a poem, just a random thought.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">A son, father, brother I've been... an uncle, nephew and cousin as well. A painter, a roofer, a fryer and busboy. A helper, a porter and superintendent. A lover, a patriot and fighter of the good fight. A poet, an author, and dreamer. But I've also been a pothead, a coke fiend, and alcoholic. A pill popper, tab taker, mushroom muncher. A thief, con man, drug dealer. A stickup kid, a gang banger and an animal. Through it all... if I can say nothing else... I can say I've lived. And because of such, I can die a satisfied man. So don't cry when I go: smile because this has been an active and full life; and I'm ready for my rest.<br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-571644478644634385.post-30136378256051648262007-08-22T17:36:00.000-04:002007-08-22T17:57:08.928-04:00Goat anti-Rabbit.. no wait... Rabbit anti-Goat. Whichever... it's your peptide and mine.<span style="font-family:georgia;"> Greetings, my loverly readers. I still haven't got much to say. I'm feeling awfully burnt out lately. My mind needs a vacation from me, and I from it. It's getting cold in New York... and it's still bloody August. What a state this world is in. <br />The next two pieces express two completely different ideas. That is exactly why I am posting them together. <br />Enjoy, mine friends.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#a25b17;">Paper Clips and Plastic Cups<br /></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"> 5 am<br />swallowed in rain<br />and the world has given up on summer<br />and he has given up on the world<br />and he's given up on finding<br />pretty words to<br />explain himself.<br /></span></div>River Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14955889510717110338noreply@blogger.com5