Apparently, I haven’t followed thee, the sociological norm.
What the herd expects of me,
the one with the eccentrically
supposed mind of an intellectually
grass fed kind.
Remember to rewind, take your time, to truly find the one you think you love.
Return the favor and savor the one. Don’t hone your hate, alleviate the situation and release your patience to fully understand.
-JG
Forgive me, for
I was never
angry at you.
I have bruised you,
burned you,
scarred you,
stained you,
neglected you.
You are not as strong as the other.
I still love you.
You have broken my fall.
Taken the blade not once, not twice.
That’s what gives you character.
As a matter of fact you may be the
strongest of all.
Ode to my left arm.
-JG
We build machines, to build machines, to build machines, to destroy.
They drug the water for cannon fodder. Cauterize the wound, but it still bleeds.
Bodies piled. Abort the child. Blame the mother not the other who forced the seed.
We steal to own the steel and stone that reaps the souls of the flesh and bone crushed together in greed.
Messiah’s rotting. Pariah’s plotting. Clotting herds mocking words of force fed creed.
Hypodermic needles sewing into our skin. Injecting our destruction. Injecting our destruction.
-JG
Poetry: The words are like trash tumbling in the gutter.
Poem: It is the collective refuse, curbside of the bus stop or the drain.
Poet: Is the garbage picker, finding gold in each piece of rubbish.
-JG
Electricity whips the sky.
The clouds begin to cry and become bitter.
We are no different.
We close our gates when exposed.
Open doors when we want to show ourselves.
Biped beauty, biped filth.
Walking, talking.
Regurgitating, regenerating.
Words warping, causes communication crashes.
Its 2012.
As if that is an answer properly fit for other than what year it is – currently.
Or the outcome of an equation.
Or an address.
Not the address of a crook (politician).
-JG
as I sit and ponder Rukeyser
the itch keeps reoccurring from the cigar previous nights ago.
hands ache from the work I have endured upon my two wheeled companion
and the flavor of a European hash diminishes each time the grey enters my veins.
over heard from the rowdy suburban folk
“Jelly is sticky. If anything, we wont be able to fly.”
truly, they must be insects metamorphosed from maggots.
just as annoying.
-JG
And so the moment almost flows to a halt.
Remember alcohol?
It remembers me.
That “coursing through my veins” feeling.
Hey friend, how’s ’bout another round?
Keep’em comin’ until my illegibility becomes divine doctrine for the ones who are with me.
Keep’em comin’ until my vision blurs the thought of her.
Keep’em comin’ because apathy is the sport I’m playin’.
-JG
Swing with me.
Wander with me.
Warm my blue heart with your vagabond, rock step.
Pouring frequencies of Edda James swirl the air.
My ears swallow the music like a mild whiskey.
In this moment, I want to kiss your red lips.
-JG
I want to love.
I want to make love,
but I am hopeless.
The love I have dispersed
amongst the few, seems to be
what has been returned to me.
The product of nothing.
Here, I am, divided by my own product.
Undefined.
-JG
So here I am in a trance of drum and bass.
My heart beats to the rhythm and my blood flows to the BPM.
My senses are drowned in red light and the sauce.
I’ve lost the definition of in and out of sanity.
It means nothing anymore.
All that matters now is the now.
Forget the past and fuck the future.
-JG
