Been Done

I had this dream

I swam in the midst of wires

Scratching, pulling, biting

I destroyed all that I desired

But it rewarded me nothing

My feelings remained

All remained meaningless

Senseless efforts to distract father time

Something to appease the mind

Unable to sit still

Unable to fill this void

Unable to taste the sweetness

You remember from that old dream

And then you remember that it was only a dream

As you plead to fall back asleep

But your eyes are desensitized and know

No dream like that will ever come again

Being awake is less fun

But being dead too has already been done

ⓒ 2001 Shawn Michael Quinn

Floa

It comes and overflows or it doesn't come at all
Its been screaming for the past few days
I haven't had the time, even as I float
To let it floa...
Her and Him, patterns and circles, yet again
Jesus, and humanity, and tears, and eyes that burn

Nothing escapes
I'm burning
Tears welling
Eyes hold on to me
People cling to me
I'm horny..
Or should I say whore-ny
Whore NYC
the fucking whore in me who knows none of this
Bullshit
Matters
I hear your conversations
I see notes compared
And things to bond upon
To reminisce
To capture what I destroyed
To have a common enemy
Or scapegoat at least

The innocence of human nature
these wings dripping with blood
Eyes that engrave and hold
This red, yours and mine
You temp and test me
But, I let it floa
As I flowt here (inside of forever)
If it ever came to this
The whore I've become
The saint you've sown
I fuck and fuck and fuck
I'm whoreny  in this city
I seek, tongue, and rape
The minds of my flesh
Digging in, tearing out
twisting and turning
Through this yearning and burning
Without words worthy of waste
Another type of blood I taste
Following the from extreme to extreme
We become dizzy
And let go of your focus
Seeing truth
Seeing you
The whore in you
Live it out
Like anything
And everything
Else.

ⓒ 2001 Shawn Michael Quinn

J. Entry 01102001

I sit in the bathtub as the bubbles rise holding a Rolling Rock, sweating, dripping, sipping, music that sounds like Led Zeppelin blaring from my stereo.  The water rises up and swallows me.  To taste beer ice cold in a hot bubble bath is a sensation I could carry forever.  My cat Luna looks at me with his front paws on the edge of the tub like I am crazy, wondering what in the hell I am doing.  I finish the beer and wish I had grabbed a second from the fridge.  Next time I’ll remember.  I’m too lazy and comfortable to go grab another.  I dip the bottle through the bubbles and let it fill.  Luna’s face goes crazy wondering what the noise of the water going in and air coming out is.  His fear and curiosity control him.  I sit laughing and pour the water out.  I do it over and over again until he comes to watch scared half to death.  I start pouring the water on my face and head.  The water drips down my face and back to the tub and he stares at me dumbfounded.  He thinks I’m insane.  He’s probably right.

I was reading Bukowski earlier.  It’s hard not to drink a beer while reading him.  I think it’s not so bad to be a loser when I read Bukowski.  Being a loser must be highly underrated.  I think I could easily become an alcoholic reading Bukowski, but it’s easy to fall into anything, especially alcohol.  I’ve fallen into alcohol many times before ever hearing his name.  Belch!  Beer is one of the greatest methods of constructing an enormous burp.  Another way to make an average burp a more than average burp is to burp in the bathroom.  There’s nothing like the echo of bodily functions in a bathroom, especially a tiled bathroom in a New York City apartment building.  My stomach’s bloated from the beer and I burp so loud Luna jumps.  I have to laugh at my effects.  Life is good.  Beer and baths are better.  But you probably can’t have either unless you’re in the middle of a life.  I suppose. 

I brought the cordless phone into the bathroom so if it rang, I could answer in a state of extreme comfort.  No one called.  I call Jennie and tell her I’m taking a bubble bath drinking a beer.  She laughs and asks me if I’m serious then tells me she loves me.  I laugh.  Then I say, “I rule.”  I do.  I love her too.  She’s called me at least a dozen times in the midst of a bubble bath.  I thought I owed it to her to return the favor.  Thanks!  I’m gonna go have another beer.

Love Is A Dog From Hell

and nobody finds the

one
but they keep
looking

nobody ever finds the one

there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love

the laughter of the mutilated
who still need
love

J. Entry 01012001

Happy New Year!  Maybe.  Awaken by the sound of the telephone, Susanna on the other end.  We went for coffee.  I had tea.  I gave her a copy of the book my poem 'Anangi' was published in.  Showed her the cd too.  Tears came, and went.  We are becoming part of each others lives again, becoming friends.  She showed me pictures of D.R. and the children from her job.  We talked about life and I told her about Jennie and about our conversational concepts of freedom, contradiction, and relationships.  She said if she was my shrink, she diagnose me schizophrenic.  I told her that's why I don't have a shrink and that I like it outside.  Things will be better when she lives alone, she says...

I spoke to jennie tonight.  I love her.  I am lucky to have a friend like her, to have her in my life.  She is so beautiful.  She doesn't judge Susanna even as she sees how I tend to torture myself.  I told her I want them to meet.  We talked about how its now been a year since we became friends and how it feels so much longer.  We laughed at the whys we pondered.  One little year.  Thank you to those who receive them.

Melting from the heat of life
Or this fire that glows throughout
My body sinks into a cavity of emotion
And I become a shade of grey
All of the colours yet only one
Another contradiction to toy with
And like the rest, divine...
I question if this is similar to that of his
This emotion of pure beauty
        of pure witness
To life, and each of its infinite dimensions
        of perceptions
To feel each and all of its tears
Of Joy, or sorrow, and.. of bliss
Unable to touch only one
Without the rest
Unable to deny the word or the dove
I watch a flock of birds fly rhythmically over my head
And taste the love of God
On the films of my eyes
I work like my fellow friends
Living this life moment to moment
And absorb it all
Touched by angels
And stained by blood
I take none for granted
Or at least, I try
Thank you
For every image
For every tear
For every smile
For every word
I have witnessed
By your grace

ⓒ 2001 Shawn Michael Quinn