Father Christmas

Corralled in the silver snow,

Invisible towards the crimson streamers flown,

Entropy, drenched in the memories of time,

Dripping wet, in the jungle's steam,

No changing of the season,

Just a smile and a wave, as we pass upon the stones,

It won't mean much the next morning,

Here in the chaos
city streets, electric..
...another face in the crowd,
our moods, just another vaunted spike,
barely registering on the cracked screen,

All we can do is marvel at the glowing buttons,

Keep pushing, mash them together, like dough....
till you win the fight.

And...RESET.

Broken Record

Crimson lightning, stains the white skies

like cracks in the wall

scars on the fabric of time,

May I sleep yet one more time,

On a broken record, I skip

over every promise,

like an earthquake,

and the blood boils...

There's only one last breath, left in that old life...

Symbols along the drenched limbs,

traffic on the highway,

like a knife's edge the road is jagged

it's just enough to make you wonder,

when up is down,

to drown out the pain.

Placid Dreams

Ensnared, the wanderings of a mad man,
intertwined in layers, the
mind tears itself to pieces

Here, in the dark exquisite,
lions rear their ugly heads, gnashing of teeth
broken bones spear the way through
on the gentle tendrils of the mind

we sail on placid dreams ...

Along prevailing winds the waters shift,
on golden streams, stained by the blood-red sun,
sail on, my love...
soon the shoreline will stray into view,
another mirage painted on a canvas sky,

The years roll by,
trodden on, as boots to the ground
the shoreline wastes away
and the shadows creep upon the bay...
tired and tiered

Soon, the land will take us fallow,
usurp intentions, and planting fell will,

But at night, wings shall spread, splintered
in the dawn's cracks,
two lover's quarrel ends,

Streaked with pride and glory,
a new day comes...
And the story begins once more.

Innocuous Basterds Episode 1

T'was a good evening in NW PDX last night for our first "organized" episode. We have finally given the show a name - "Innocuous Basterds". It's pretty much who we are. All in all, I have to say it was a good effort. In time, we'll add more to the show - hopefully with input from the army of degenerates we hope to gather in the future. 

Anyway, here's how it went:

Obamacare, Pet Peeves, Bullshit PDX, and Phone a Friend: (this week, it was our friend Kimberly Allen nee Viernes; yes, she recently married). Enjoy!

https://soundcloud.com/jonamado/sounds-from-friday-evening

Podcast Project

This podcast represents our pilot episode. Future installments will be more organized and a bit less rambling. :)

https://soundcloud.com/jonamado/inaugural-episode-alcoholic/s-bzp9v

Our premise is to provide a bit of useless entertainment (duh), by discussing current events, pet peeves, bad movies, and other various sundries - some of which will be provided by friends (someday we may even have a few listeners!).

Afternoon Leaves

Rusted away, last night's dreams...
floating along the makeshift gutter's stream
like afternoon leaves on the fell wind,

Brown eyes reflected in a glassy stare,
her orange umbrella cast a shadow,
with a red handle in the pouring rain,
a waterfall cascade,
but still the blue in the skies
it was just that time of year...

Deathly yellow sun, pasted close
on the blackened pavement,
as she boarded the train, searching for
a clean seat
her legs wearied by the long game
she saw him once again, as she always did;
he smelled of the mists,
a poor soul, with endless travails
and a wry smile

Another night on the 5:15, she thought...
missed glances, and paper minds,
destined never to meet,
or wanting to meet for that matter...
it was just something to make the trip,

It was her stop, she turned towards the door,
Still their eyes met as the doors closed
"I'll see you again tomorrow, won't I?" she said
Unspoken

"Till then."

Moulting (Waiting for Season's Change)

The lake ripples in the sunken moonlight,

and the icy-blue fingertips of winter's night

caress the scattered stars resting upon

a hero's shoulders


The old man's feet wrestle the years

as the floor-tiles grow weary,

cold and brittle

like tree branches after a storm


Every step behind the windows,

caught in the mirror

one side white-hot, like molded steel

the other laid bare; a wasteland of snow

and a promise of days to come


A vision of intemperate times,

swept across a living-room floor;

dreams of fire and ice,

left in the recesses of the mind,

and cradled in the heart.

Burnouts Part 2

Sometimes I hate the words

despise them for all their little fucking paradigms,

sucking on our withered intentions

goddamn it! why is it every word is entangled in some witches brew of 

wanting to be admired,

when in the vast reality of shit this world is, 

nobody gives a damn about the words,

it's just the same fucking buttons I push over and over again

Fuck it all, all the words,

nothing we can do will ever compare...

the stickiness of a mind,

mired in the sameness of it all,

the same sun and stars, the same moon, the same mirror I look into every morning,

the same old worthless phrases

bandied about like so many lost souls in the street

It's hard to figure out the puzzle, you know

desire melds into one - 

anger of the past, the happiness of now, the flame of the future

while the windows remain closed, fresh air deceased

and the words grown stale.

I change my mind...I really do love the words I've grown to hate. 

Dancing in the Sunlight

The old woman danced in the afternoon sunlight,

not with nimble feet, but frozen hands.


Just my mother, you see - never able to gain a wide berth of trouble...

Sitting there in the shadows I watched,

carefully tracing the edges of the antiseptic room;

white were the curtains, large the windows of the soul -

every gloriously tiled footstep caused a squeek, squeek, squeek on the floor...


Here at the end, we stood...

and yet the flood had not been released,

nay, not even a drop was shed...


Another minute or two passed, I knew I'd never speak to her again...

I knew we'd never laugh at the sparrows in the front yard,

seek peace in a like mind,

or remember the bad-old-days like every other day...


Soon it was time for me to go,

I felt in necessary to remember the old woman dancing in the sunlight,

never nimble with feet - or hands for that matter...but she could cook with words...


No, we were clumsy together - two shoes tied together by blood...

forever bound by dumb-assery...a billboard for foolish decisions...

still she was my mother,

and we were one in the same,

one day I will forgive that trespass,

one fine day it will all make sense, you know...

from the past the tears will fall,

only to live another day.

Friends

Skipping on the clouds,

sun rays, glittering on the horizon

cast down to the bright new sea

on the evening's turn,

bad luck shared with the beasties,

into her eyes I never strayed, content in the jellied fray

we shook and still frozen in the ancient cave,

it was a long night,

survived by only a latent voice,

and solemn friendship among the years,

It became clear, the darkness was our crew-mate,

Odd eye see, a forlorn conclusion...

but still we remain,

with a knife against the flimsy shield of time,

bound together by innocence.

As the summer wanes,

remember the moments we had,

on the open sea of bright new days.

Epilogue to the Battle

Moist grass underfoot in mourning dew,

fresh soil disguised on a streak,

a smile, sickly sweet,

she listens to the hall, heavy footsteps pitter-patter 

as the clouds pass over

just a wisp 

silver in the morning heat,

that sting, a sting on the flanks,

boiled like an old leather heart, rage fills the 

broken glass...

unable to empty the hole,

the dirt slinks back in,

like she used to on the evening sabbath ,

now the spell shatters,

on the daylight we slumber tense,

unable to forget the fateful hours hence,

remember it was only a dream - 

that's what the leech did say.

Nightmare King

Slayeth away, busy King

along the crimson fields the warriors fell!

Tearing apart the darkening skies, the King raised his voice

above the din, bellowing like the call of the horn.


"Stay, my boys! Leave the way clear - the Champion is mine!"

Over the bodies he skipped merrily, traipsing over the pawns,

keenly focused,

on a legacy by the sword.


"Don't go m'lord! Come back, before it is past time!" the warriors brayed,

still the King did not attend - drawing his jeweled sword,

shining now in the evening sun, stained with fading stars


Above all others, he led his life plain,

conqueror among the conquerors,

till that fateful day, the day his Queen was besieged,


She kept the watch

watching the feral hordes writhe above the catacombs


Not in the tower, but at the front gate, urging the young men to fight

in his stead.

With sleight of hand,

She was taken by the Champion that day, with cold steel and heart alike,

the grounds full of blood and dust, patterned like the spray of a waterfall

upon every lifeless face,

He stood above her, the Champion, driving his sword into her gullet

while taking the King's place in her heaven,

and all that he ever held dear.


Almost succumbed under the haze of fever,

the King did see it all,

the fire in His eyes, wretched gnashing teeth, yes, a hole was made into his soul that day!

As the thunder raged, and lightning fell like tears,

an oath was taken - with no one around.

Vengeance, was the only compass of the King.


Now at the edges of sight, his men regaled in the muddy fields

knowing what was to come - the mighty King!

As he clashed his shield against his sword, the men shouted

on high: "Do not continue m'lord, you are consumed!"

Too late for the Champion, however - for he knelt by the end of the King's mercy


Screaming, screaming, the hordes did wail, beseeching the nightmare King,

strangely hollow now, the scene divides

the many seem so few, and the hills become cobblestone hallways,

"What sorcery betrays these eyes?" wondered the King, as the voices became tangible


Gazing down upon the Champion, he noticed the flames had become blue,

a continence much like his weighed upon the image below him,

weaving together the mists, he cleared his troubled mind, and now he recognized the enemy!

It was so clear now, like the harvest moon -

"This man is not my wife's killer, he is my son..."

"My son! My Son! How has this come to be?!"


The King, seeing his son's bloodied features sharp, did now retreat a few paces,

ceased only by the feet of his body stumbling into a unknown form just behind him:

It was only the body of his wife, the Queen...with a dagger lodged in her heart,

to the vision he gasped "My love, my love! What have I done?!"


Time now slowed forth...as if in a dream,

heaviness poured across his limbs swathed in the fear of what he had done

slow as molasses in the morning air,

as the the servants stood by, gazing upon the would-be-king

horror clear, the sound of flesh became muddled once more.


The call of the horns,

The call of the horns,

the cry of the falcon in the distant past,

the pall of summer on the winter's smile,

for times long ago he flailed about,

on the soft mossy banks of the lake,

allowing one final glimpse of what was,

a tapestry of love, now torn upon the rocks, his

standard in the thorny brambles,

and the cruel absoluteness of tender life,

now alone in the corner, two forms still,

while the shadows crept in...

"Ah!"

the King thought to himself...

...then what is the point of being young, if you cannot regret it?"

Streaks

On the docks they skitter along, lost and found,
little feet grown large on the drizzly boardwalk,
with dreams aplenty, as when the wind was young

Few reach the pinnacle of speed - the effort alone would slay
dragons, these souls are on their way no doubt,
towards heroic deeds yet unseen,
with determination on the sweat of their brow,
pining away with a demigod's plow

Some flow down the gentle pathway to a nearby pub like
cold molasses, taken in by the smell of the sea,
new pork pies and stale beer,
a cacophonous, winding, misty embrace -
wafting along the edges of their senses,
they search for way to stay razor's edge

Most, forget why they came -
the fog of being human is not easily swayed
hemming and hawing,
toiling just to skirt the taxman's gaze,
but not enough to
kill the numbness on the brain

Soon all the big feet, some narrow, some wide -
all of them seek shelter amidst the throng,
wishing to become small once again,
tiny footprints on the sandy beaches of the world
unknown and unhindered
back to the place where dreams anew.

Madness of Red

It was a quiet evening in the heather,
teaming, swaying on the gentle breeze like wildfire;
I went there to escape the morning's ill feelings, - still not yet allayed,
yet now I could see
sunset's pure colors oozing upon the horizon;
the madness of red, soulful blue of impending twilight,
sharp orange and yellow fruits all hanging on a drooping
tapestry in the sky

Stillness and silence preyed upon my mind at last,
and the forbearance of the season washed away the
elements of a long, long day -
how could it not? I knew the earth wished to take me.

Yet, the creatures saw me in the meadow, saw me for what I was;
two once lively legs and feet, a lithe and impenetrable will - now reduced
to the ashes, such bright eyes now dimmed with heaviness of time
simply lying in the heather, arms spread wide to caress the evening air,
once again...once again to feel young as if the day was new,
just grasping for hope everlasting.

Between the comings and goings of the hours and minutes,
mere seconds can make all the difference;
a lover's kiss or a strangers kindness,
or a timely melting of the heart -
against all-odds, we continue on,
pondering and planning the next move,
we know we cannot stay long...
yet I will always find myself here again,
alone or not - back in the heather.

Heights

Out of breath

all this time, still the dust frays

about the evening sun,

like a blood-orange bloom

the desert plays on the spaghetti skies

and a quick hand traces 

old wisdom upon ground

and the crowd adores

Slice frozen time

juicy like popsicle villages 

spurting across the angry teeth

of the world

Return again to the scythes

in the fields we wilt

against the wind

atop the mountain-tops

we scramble down 

to the broken cliffs we cry

in the hurt

lifted to the heights at the end.

Part 1

Time flows, again
as lava to the sea
still winds rush across the
black sands
and new life grows upon the littered
plains
ticking clocks, creeping along the
crimson line
and the heart pounds relentless...

Static

Lies in the shade,
crimson fingertips, tainted in the dry ink
on the couch at midnight,
staring at the empty screen,
remember that afternoon

Look round' the ol' house
crumbled about you
like a house of cards

Luscious smiles pasted on the desert madras,
on layered hills
like paint pots overturned

Those deceitful eyes
shining on the oasis green
just reflections in the dark

And TV goes static

frozen in the moment
crystalline
like a spider in the amber.

Mossy Banks

Wept on the lake tears

alight in dark embrace

grandiose the thoughts of those

lost in the forest

but I can see the trees

As the melody secretly floats away

on tethered hopes and dreams

watch the smoke engulf blue eyes

as the shine goes

soon we're little more than tiny figures

see there, on the silver fields - cowering in the hot shade

that's where we left frozen pride

On the way back to lake, through hands like weeds

striding tall again

so full of ourselves, we scream into the faded skies

only to awaken in the sand of our desires

in mud

the gritty beds of a vagabond

Another night by the lake,

another night of bitter roots

round the supple throat -

still in the moss,

right where we belong.

Angel Hair

Flutter away m'dear, away into the flowers melt,
shy kisses enthral the senses but we lost ourselves
in the painted halls, in every frame a new life hanging
on the tips of wild tongues

Upon southerly winds walking together, soldiers'
faces in a peckish hue,
the drums beat a constant tune as ten-thousand feet
crack like thunder,
Be still my heart! She swallowed them all -
into the sinking sands, where diamonds come to life
and golden treasures are spun and gods fear to dwell
all of my comrades gone, withered away in angels hair

Still, still the porcelain stare
like love's last breathe on the mountain's pair
afloat on a river of blood
the ashes flair, flared
upon a whim and a dare
the changing days they
come hither to bear
taking the silence, and
evenings last glare.

Corridors

Bright eyes where have you been?

I lost you in my glasses tint

Along glittering shades of sunlight she danced

In the cobblestone cracker homesteads we met

Long ago when the winter moss was green

Like an oceans kiss

I saw you in the shadows kept

And the pinhole cushion mountains

Where giants fear to tread

Enshrouded in the clouds so blue

Dancing just on the corner of the eyes

Where we will not look into

Like a window to the soul

And so we chase all the empty spaces

Footsteps a crescendo on a circle well worn

Never really looking for the end

In the tiny quiet moments our minds spin like a top

Looking for the way out

On the edge of a mirror.

Leap

Stolen streets
revealed cold embers blue
as liquid colors in the moonlight

gentle fingertips burning angles
glistened
into perfect skin

it's just a leap across the lake
a slow fall
as the wind goes

easy on the eyes
remembrance of the heart
blackened in the hearth

keep a tongue behind your sword
does it suit you?
Here on the stolen streets
dyed in a hue
longing for the blue to come again
in the embers of a kiss.

Tape

Restful leaves play among the silky clouds
torn apart, scattered like fleeting glances while
the fiery winter's breath reigns down upon
summer's cold shoulders

Not lost, but found
shiny glass reminders strewn like pebbles
broken baubles
Not lost, but found
too many colors mettalic
swirled together like
oil on the water

When the spring jumps the heart
let me fall into your arms again
on the swift currents we'll play with time
shambling along, while you dance
I'll remember the old music
on the edges of the crumbled streets
and the eyes plastered to the windows

empty vessels smile at the sky still
and the earth will melt into
the opal blue sea.