Another “Bebo Libre!” Update.

It’s been a while since I’ve updated on “Bebo Libre!” and have well gone passed my expected release date for it. However, I can say now with confidence that it is all written. Here are some details:

1. It is 37 poems and 4 short stories.
2. There is artwork.
3. It is much shorter than I expected, but sums up everything I’ve gone through between the months of October and February. 
4.  It is in 3 Parts.

Here are the titles:
Prelude: First Words

Part I: Gonzo:
Tonal Harmony
Munchies
I’ll Just Walk on Water (preview on this blog)
#Oakland {Occupied}
Hand Selected Shuffle
ZA
The Photo Album
To Be Blunt
Gallons
Obligated Ode to Ambition
Devils Night
There Was a Clever Name For This
Gone, So?

Part II: Utile & Dolce II:
Whore Moans
Equal
Politics I
Clear
American Boy (preview on this blog)
Porch Days
Hesitant Ode
Bomb II
Depression I
Depression II
Depression III {Desperation}
Ode to the Obvious
So Gone
Women…
Mayan
A {Sherlockian} Ode to Those I’ve Never Met
The Slings
The Arrows
Under One Nation

Part III: The Saga of Maxwell Widows:
Prelude
Stab Circle (preview on this blog)
Fear and Loathing in PA
Bukowski Blues
Mayan II

Epilogue: 302’d Into Western Psych

So thats what you can expect. There are previews from all three parts on this here blog you can check out and get a sense of.

It’ll be in physical form soon. Promise.

I’ll Just Walk on Water (Bebo Libre! preview)

So, since I stated “Bebo Libre” would be coming soon, and haven’t made much of an update on it as of yet, I decided to share another poem from it so you can whet your pallet.

 

“I’ll Just Walk on Water”

 

For real though.

I fucked up.

I allowed my adolescence

To exist beyond when the existance should have ended.

Blame it on being a late bloomer, I suppose

I just hate…not being a focus

{for real though, for one second}

I’m just filled to the brim with expression!But I only used it to instill regression upon myself.

There’s a literal price on it now.

Obviously I can’t afford it.

So now I have a part time jon

Placing other peoples money into a drawer

To collect for just an eatery company.

But they pay me.

And I need it to dig out of debt

Into more debt.

I’ve still got expression though…

Even against repression.

Its depressing.

I don’t know what to do with itTo get it out quickly…

And bold enough for the outside world to see.

I don’t speak as often as I’d like to…

“god” knows if anyone sees these…

But I did fuck up.

Put my family in a tight spot.

But I’m done…scouts honor.

{I was never a scout} {or at least a good one}Truly. I wouldn’t know what to do if more occured.

So I’m sitting still and passing dollars around for a bit.

I’ll get in a public domain sometime.

Let that decide if I survive or not.

Because theres no backup plan.

I spent a large amount of time

Passing useful information in one ear to go out the other.

I guess I’ll think of something to do.

Ok. Did.

Happy Birthday Ringo {Bored on the 4th of July}

7.

So I’ll never be taken seriously.
So I’ll never live vicariously through
What could be and what you all are.
So what I write right now
And what I post potentially five minutes from now
Will never be acknowledged
As something serious
As something modern
As something important.
And we conspire, and sweat and seek what its worth
But nothing comes apparent 21 years after birth.
Learning
Well fuck it,
Thats not something I believed would be worth it.
Because what could be taught
When our tutor is online and ever lacking thought?

I hope this catches you by surprise
And to clarify
I mean you few
Upon whom I exemplify upon my chest
With a lit keyboard
And nothing else to depress.
Did I mean express?
Maybe both.
Maybe neither.
I meant both.
I meant either.
I’ll name you all so you can sit and say”Well this is strange
What could it mean, or relay?”
It’ll mean nothing to any of you, except for me.
Because who the fuck cares?
No one upon my 400 and maybe nine sphere
But if you’re tagged
And realize the history between two or each
Or maybe no one because forever I reach…

Fuck it. What I mean to say is that I’ve been fucked up by all of you. And I could ever only hope I fucked you up too. Because any relationship I meant to keep, well… its been fucked because I’ve been fucked so deep (figurativly and literally.) So what it comes down to is that I hope everyone has been found now happy without a thought about what happened between us all.
There are only two girls I’ve ever been fully in love with.
There are only two girls who will ever read something into this.
Fuck it.
What I mean to say is that… no one cares.
And no one will.
So I’ll read this on the day I win my first award as if it were a speech pre-prepared.

Abdul the Baptist {Part II}

6.

Standing at the river bank
Where just three years previous
I began losing faith in my humanity
And considered tossing it all away
But instead tossed in cigarette butts.
Felt the wind and let it shake my soul
And swallowed my hopes rather than
Fill my lungs with dirty water that
Would reverse baptize me.
And now I do like I did then
Flick the cigarette in and laugh at how
I almost let you murder me and remember
Words in which a stranger defined my existence.

I let him baptize me
Incoherently slurring a pulpit preach
From crusted lips and alcoholic spit
“This is what your life could become.”

I strained my neck to see
If my pride was stuck somewhere behind me
Instead came everyone I believed
Could save my life at one point
And they did so forever I am in debt to them.
Oh god what an awful habit I had
But I was convinced to listen and
I am forever listening and have stopped
Talking to walls and continued breathing
Because I’d rather have my lung punctured
Than waste anymore breath on my moaning
And complaining which kept staining my eyes.
I have defined my existence.

I let him baptize me
Incoherently slurring a pulpit preach
From crusted lips and alcoholic spit
“This is what your life could become.”

Quarter Draft.

5.

How do they judge thee?
Allow me to count the ways.
Once in how my clothes remain the same
And money doesn’t weigh on my mind as neccessity
Because of the riches I display
When I empty my pockets during specials
Along the Southside on just a Wednesday night
Giving a quarter for a draft and
Screaming aloud to songs progessing into incoherence
Incoherently attracting no one other than me.

Its harder than I thought
To be an age where nothings taboo
And its harder than I thought
To be an age where nothings taboo.

How did I miss out?
Allow me to count the ways.
Once with resolutions that never came to fruition
And fruit that had long since spoiled stolen from
A garden that didn’t belong to me.
And my clothes remain the same because
I wouldn’t sell the shirt off my back to just attract
A woman who wouldn’t do anything for me
Other than become a decent bedtime story
I told myself in the privacy of my room.

Its harder than I thought
To be an age where nothings taboo.
And its harder than I thought
To be an age where nothings taboo.

When the days grow hotter
Its a bother to try and stay awake.
When the nights dim down and
No one wants to bother with one another
Its hard to attract the attention of another
That wants nothing more than to finish
What she got and go away and go away
So I stay put behind the corner bar
And drink away until I feel I can flush away
Every memory I made from just that night.
So I toss more quarters to the bartender to make sure its a good night.
Gnite.

Give Me Your Damned Happiness (poem)

4.

Give me your brittle bones to break.
Give me all your tiny plans to turn into sand
And contain in a glass to count the days you waste.
Give me your right hand to brand with the initials
Of a memory we erased a long time ago.
Children we gave names to that never came through
And became a bad taste in our mouths to spit out
Because our younger years were so naive and too care free.
I care deeply now about nothing and I know you do too.

Give me anything you need to
To eventually give me your damned happiness
That you claim became possessed with regrets.
Give me anything so I can throw it back at you.

I know I said I’d be ok
With whichever way you decided to stray
Because the further from me you got
The more dangerous I sought out to become.
Now that danger is me and I believe it’ll set me free
Because I’m tired of how predictable you made me.
I was never a jealous man but god damn
You knew every way to make me a man
And pass the secret to another along the corridor.

Give me anything you need to
To eventually give me your damned happiness
That you claim became possessed with regrets.
Give me anything so I can throw it back at you.

I’m tired of saying the same things
Repeating memories and atrocities
We performed ritually.
I’m tired of saying I’m fine
And sneaking behind clothes lines so no one sees
Just to see if you’re still breathing.
Because you can bait and catch me divinely
And seduce me even when your blind.
I like to pretend I’m refined in those moments… but…

Give me anything you need to
To eventually give me your damned happiness
That you claim became possessed with regrets
Give me anything so I can throw it back at you.

Never again
So I climb into anothers bed
Never again
So I crush the pills and pass you the dollar bill.
Never again
So I make a scene in the streets to complete a cycle.
Never again
So I climb back into your bed
And feed you the lines I knew would bring out the worst in you.
Never again
But seriously.
This is the last thing I write about it.

Dirt.

3.

I am no longer a clean man
I spend my days in dirt and
Stain my face with with tired eyes
Displayed like headlights in the rain.
I spend my days with friends
In excess we possess the power
To keep a city burning long after
The coals cooled and the smoke froze.
To see it clearer we fog our minds
With a smoke that hazes sense
And contain a stamina in our liver
Only an older fool would confess to being
Alcoholism or abuse of a trusted substance.

I am no longer a gleaming child
I spend my days in dirt and
Refrain from any activity to free me
Like finding love or money
Like finding the sun and honey
Because I am comfortable and content
In the place I’ve set my head.
Concrete and street lights display
My stage where the words vanish just as easily
As if they were never said and…hell maybe they never were.
Cheers to the night where we kick off the summer
Every night until winter forces us into basements
To convert those non into believing.

It means everything to me
Because I am happy.
It means nothing to me
If you are not happy.
I means everything to me
Because I am content
It means nothing to me
If you read into what I say
Because at least you’re reading.
It means everything to me.

So Social I Network {1,000+ Friends}

2.

I fill up my time with petty things
Like concerns with troubles over seas
Or the treason displayed on the front page
Of Wikileaks or taking peaks
Into the diary my grandmother kept.
Now that she has died I feel it fine
To find what it was that plagued her troubled mind
Because it could help answer whats going on with mine
But all I read is the love she kept for Tori and I
So it supplies me with nothing I haven’t heard
About how love is the key and the key will lead
You to a heaven kept above and in dreams.
But I promise I wouldn’t be the one to follow it to that end.

So I suppose I should busy myself with the important things
Like posing for pictures to display on my home page
And collecting statuses of complaints about
The status of my day and accepting the friendship
Of strangers a thousand miles away who only have
An advertisement to paint on my page.

I’m a hypocrit so get used to it
Theres no other way around it
I do it so good, I’ve been given a crown
And sit on such a low throne
That I see the knees I could make weak
Or cut down immediately.
Nothing has been the same since
You changed your name and display
And now I have to stomache the news and tense
Over every update you give to a digital fanbase.
You do such a good imitation
Of everyone that gained a 1000 + friends
But I promise I’m still the only one who’d follow you to the end.

So I suppose I should busy myself with the important things
Like posing for pictures to display on my home page
And collecting statuses of complaints about
The status of my day and accepting the friendship
Of strangers a thousand miles away who only have
An advertisement to paint on my page.

Posting notes and posting hopes
And posting stories and posting evidence
Against us in the case of seeking 15 minutes of fame
But I don’t know exactly who to blame
So I retreat into me and believe that every one of you
Have an interest in the things I say
If not its not that big of a shame because truly
I never really look at the things you do
But this has all just been done to impress you.
I’m not reaching a point to help fix my disease
So believe me I’ve still got a bit of obsession to give
And a lot of lust left to spin into love
Because those pictures you post have kept my head in a rush.
I’ll post one that’ll hopefully follow the end of the trend.
I’m a goddamned hypocrit.

{Skating on} Broken Glass

1.

Licking the last drop from the bottom of the glass

I screw off the top of my flask

And fill up on liqour I claim to be renting

From hosts that graciously invited us in

To celebrate re-inventing our names that’ll be displayed on graves.

Those are the kinds of mistakes they make

Because I take advantage of even my friends

And my family is slowly realizing the disgrace I embrace.

Its easy enough for me to blame everyone else except myself

So don’t say I didn’t learn a thing from you

Because that’s become my golden rule these days.

And these days are grey.

 

You’ve gone on to meet people

That I’ll never even greet

And you’ve gone on to kneel before

A dozen more and find sanctuary on floors.

All the while I’ve remained the same

With an addition of never being in a concious state.

 

Everything I could say right now

Could be so mean ’cause I’ve been meaning to

Clear up a few things that had been bothering me

But I can’t complain because its everything

Previous that I could tolerate and trace

Back to place smile lines upon your face

But I’m a waste…or wasting… or wasted

And theres no accounting for good taste.

You were a warning from old stories I’d been told

By friends who experienced it before

In the form of others and different days

And those days were grey.

 

I’m just a silly little jerk

That wasted potential

And wasted time of those

Who were willing to set aside their private prime

To help reinvigorate mine

But I let you slip into my dreams

Just like how you let me tear apart your seams

To reveal that even beneath the best dresses

Nothing is quite what it seems.

Those days were great

And now I’m older with no more wise advice

To follow so I drink up every night

And get in praying fights

With a god I don’t even believe in.

So I think its time I clean myself up

Because I’m tired of these grey days.

 

Give Me Your Damned Happiness

Its time yet again for previously semi-published works.

This series is called “Give Me Your Damned Happiness” and was intended to be lyrics but have thus far never made it to song.

Enjoy.