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
Showing posts with label paranormal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paranormal. Show all posts
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
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.
Friday, August 30, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
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.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
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?"
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?"
Monday, October 31, 2011
All Hallows Even
O' dance in the foggy gloom,
baleful creatures of the night,
under the moon macabre,
somber, fiercely blazing eyes
of the ravens, piercing maleficient
minds.
Run away now, my dear
under the inky sky!
Dash along the rickety
old bones, turned to
dust, revived by lurid
dreams.
Drink deep, potion of the dead,
alchemy of the ancients,
cadaverous mouths greedily awakened,
by the gnashing of teeth,
while each pace brings certain
doom.
Too late, for the earth is alive now,
with swarthy hands grasping,
a tangle of arms, pale in the
moonlight, taking you back
from whence you came, to sleep in the
darkness.
baleful creatures of the night,
under the moon macabre,
somber, fiercely blazing eyes
of the ravens, piercing maleficient
minds.
Run away now, my dear
under the inky sky!
Dash along the rickety
old bones, turned to
dust, revived by lurid
dreams.
Drink deep, potion of the dead,
alchemy of the ancients,
cadaverous mouths greedily awakened,
by the gnashing of teeth,
while each pace brings certain
doom.
Too late, for the earth is alive now,
with swarthy hands grasping,
a tangle of arms, pale in the
moonlight, taking you back
from whence you came, to sleep in the
darkness.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Birth
Stroll along, my dear lady
through the dark city,
over the cracked old streets,
and sidewalks strewn with
cobblestone dreams, in the
stained glass windows, pretty
faces gaze out upon the
masses, gravely watchful,
piercing blue eyes, following
every step, as her delicate hands
busily tracing the tender flowers,
dried in the summer sun, down the lane,
a lustful illusion of divine whore,
spreading her wings across the sidewalk
marketplace, ferrying lost souls to
a lush hereafter with bottle of
moonshine and a kiss, liquor on her
breath, sending
away the doldrums with a
wink and a smile,
just in time for the evening storms
to wash away the cobwebs, sweet tendrils
hanging about the mind,
now a prison of imagination,
gracefully strolling along,
on the broken streets,
till the city swallows her
whole.
through the dark city,
over the cracked old streets,
and sidewalks strewn with
cobblestone dreams, in the
stained glass windows, pretty
faces gaze out upon the
masses, gravely watchful,
piercing blue eyes, following
every step, as her delicate hands
busily tracing the tender flowers,
dried in the summer sun, down the lane,
a lustful illusion of divine whore,
spreading her wings across the sidewalk
marketplace, ferrying lost souls to
a lush hereafter with bottle of
moonshine and a kiss, liquor on her
breath, sending
away the doldrums with a
wink and a smile,
just in time for the evening storms
to wash away the cobwebs, sweet tendrils
hanging about the mind,
now a prison of imagination,
gracefully strolling along,
on the broken streets,
till the city swallows her
whole.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
March 2nd
A day like any other, nothing much going except that I am writing for another blog now: http://paranormalpdx.wordpress.com/ This is the paranormal group that I am a part of now - and I'm pretty excited about where we can go with this group. In addition to writing for the POPS blog, I am also a case manager for the inner city Portland area for future paranormal investigations. I really need to get out there and pound the pavement on my days off so we can get more investigations as soon as possible - I can't wait till our next one :)
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