Listen to the goddamned Mountain Goats

 Here is a new poem about terrible people being terrible. The first line is a riff on the first line from Rilo  Kiley's "Love and War (11/11/46)":  "all is fair in love and we're in love".

The poem as a whole seems to be a result of how I spend way too much time listening to the music of the Mountain Goats, as I have been doing since 2002. You would think I would find a new favorite band already, but nope. My love for tMG is eternal and unceasing.

"not divorced blues"

all is fair on drugs, and we're on drugs

we like to tell ourselves

that we're only harming each other

you think, you always think you can

you think you can hide vodka from me 

 but i am supernatural

your best bet is to always drink quickly

may there be consequences, and may they be hilarious

so, you fucked the neighbor for two cigarettes

fine, i just banged his wife out of boredom

i miss when you had interesting hobbies

sometimes you used to even piss me off

if you won't give me a divorce, then give me a distraction

set a few buildings on fire

or spark a moderate uprising

against the local city government

the whole city gov is bullshit

the cops, the mayor

and every other goddamn city employee

they're all on bribes or dope or both

i encourage reckless drug abuse

but no one has ever been honest for money

legalize drunk driving again

we want to kill with our cars, as our ancestors did

we'll never be done with this town

we can't even end our bastard failure of a marriage

we did some awful shit last week

we should be arrested any minute now 

we could use some time in prison

they will force our separation, there will be no other possible choice

"

"and i know its got nothing to do with 'deserves it' "

  Here is a poem, more of my drug addled bullshit. Here's the thing. The only way I can justify using destructive drugs to myself is if I work.

So I write. Sometimes I get something good, sometimes lots of good. Most often its mediocre nonsense and fragments that are at best promising.

But if I get high, I write. I don't give any special attention to whatever I'm on. I maintain that I can do what I do in any state of mind.

Anyhow. Here's a poem with weird structure. It's about a girl.

"the queen of heartbreak"

the queen of heartbreak don't mean it

some things are just hard to avoid

while she could fall in love with anyone

only questionable people fall for her

"do i seem arbitrary"?

just i can't handle boredom

i don't like standing still

or popular opinions

or common choices

(2)

I'm not trying to be difficult

i just turned out that way

i grew up confused

then one day voices started talking to me

so i started listening

they don't advise or threaten 

mostly they just make me laugh

most guys have a bullshit sense of humor

they think i'm laughing at them 

my tits can only do so much

i make men feel small

or i freak them out in other ways

i'm too much for anyone

and i'm suspicious of everyone 

(3)

the queen of heartbreak is

a nervous february suffering

through a presumptive spring

she's the whole world trying to happen

before anything is ready

and i'm never ready

if i can't be prepared at all times

why should i be at any time?

the best things in life take you by surprise

true shock is rare 

even heartbreak, you see her coming

if i delight in how she dances 

i accept the inevitable cost

i do so with knowledge

it might finish me off this time

(4)

i should be quiet 

nah, fuck it 

smash the fuckin patriarchy 

i wish more women were loud 

I am a menace 

i know when i am going to hurt him 

then i promise myself i won't

i can't handle familiarity

i wish i would stay by myself

shared history, quickly, a common language 

i remind myself that he could hurt me

but it's hard to see it 

before they drop it in

do i need  the comfort of emotion & threat?

 if i stay at home i will stay high

i will talk to myself and the voices 

but if I go out 

i will inflict myself

Scripture/prince is god

"We can dance if we want to We can leave your friends behind 'Cause your friends don't dance And if they don't dance Well they're no friends of mine"

This is a love poem about no one in particular. I'm in love with no one.

I've only been involved with one gril since the gril in 2019. I've been seeing her on and off for like a year. When I first started hanging out with her a dear old friend warned me not to fall in love.

The girl in question just told me the same thing this past February: "ag! I'm no one to fall in love with. " So I've kind of held my heart in reserve for her, even though I know it's probably useless.

"the safety dance (sad bastard remix)"

if we kiss there will be music playing

there always is

sound breaks confusion

if there's music

there should be dancing

my friends must dance

"the safety dance" is law

maybe we could be balloons

and drive out the shock

with bass drums and electric guitars

if i close my eyes

at anytime, i hear music

but i don't hear what i want to hear most

the sound of your breathing

*********

this next thing I'm only going to post the first verse of. it's unlikely the person the rest of poem is obviously about will ever see this I'm not taking any chances. It was inspired by Prince's Head:

"You know you're good, girl

I think you like to go down
You wouldn't have stopped
But uh, I came on your wedding gown
And you said:
"I must confess
I wanna get undressed and go to bed"
With that I jammed, you fool
You married me instead"

i would apologize

if i came on your party dress

i will not be sorry

when i come on your wedding dress

"but not here, babe"

 I wrote this a month or two ago when I was really baked. It probably is a bad idea really, but I like to talk shit to and about whatever gods might be paying attention.

There are millions of gods

"ambiguity"

raining, which means

some god is out there 

working like a chump

writing poetry and selling drugs

i guess could

be construed as work

but there is pleasure in these things

okay I'll admit

If i had the ability

it might be fun pissing on this world

but doesn't it get old?

gods can get really old, I'm going to die soon 

then I'll be' reborn and 

i'll live and be young anew

"But I know I mean nothing/I'm just drugs to you"

My asshole friend keeps talking about this poem written by musician/poet /suicide David Berman. It's called The Moon :https://melodicverses.com/poems/36495/The-Moon I was gettingsick of it so I was like fuck it, I'ma write an actual poem about the goddamn moon.

I was planning on actually ripping some stuff off from Berman, but the narrator kind of co-opted the thing. No, this is not writtten from my point of view We share some traits, but I don't know that dude.

Almost every time I write anything I am thinking of at least one person I know ir. This poem is strange bcuz for once that wasn't the case. I don't know what I was thinking about. I'm high. Leave me alone.

One last thing . No matter how i might feel about Berman's work, he did write the following sad ass song, so he has my eternal respect:. https://youtu.be/A4qPyhQPFl0 seriously, this is one of the saddest songs I have ever heard. It breaks my heart every single time.

"the fucking moon (fuck the moon)"

(m)

if i could fuck anything

i would fuck the moon 

i would stay there forever

covered in come and silence 

with my dick in a crater

we don't like the moon 

stupid yellow bastard

we like it in the dark

where we can do drugs and fornicate

I don't like how

the moon fills people with hope

hope does not really exist

there is doom 

and there is god 

but god feels so far away

like the moon

thats far away, too

(o)

we didn't ask any questions

we stumbled through the north

we were diamonds cursing light

by the time the sun went away

we were lit enough to make our own light

but then came the moon

in our faces, like a threat

you don't have to come down

if you die from an overdose

and you don't have to look at the moon

if you close the curtains

and don't go outside

but we have to go outside

because that's where the party is

and everything interesting

happens at night

so the stupid moon

will have its slutty way with us

it's almost as bad as the sun

(o)

you were talking in your sleep

some shit about the moon

you sounded like that dude

in that stephen king novel where a lot of people died

the city sleeps

and you sleep

but i rarely sleep

even when I'm not on dope

at this hour

i can walk the streets

and not be bothered

but i worry something bad might happen

if i leave you alone

i spent so much time by myself

i have no idea how to act now

you deal with my stupid bullshit

like my obsession with the moon

thank you for

i hope you never regret

the kind things you have done for me

(n)

let's pretend we're back in time

when things like

the moon didn't bother us

maybe if 

we hold each other tight

we can forget the moon

and that we ever feared anything

*******

So this next poem is dumb, but I told Chris I was going to post it online. Here's what I said in an email when I first sent him a bit of it:

"Remember the other day when you basically said all my poems were about drugs? I was a bit angry for a minute, but then I remembered that you're a bitch. So I decided that I actually would wrote a poem about drugs called "fuck you, chris white", and it is the worst poem ever written bcuz you are the worst person to ever live.

Anyhow .this is ridiculous and totally dumb, and that's why it amuses me. It is basically the middle of the poem, but I am sending it to you before i finish  editing the rest bcuz I am hoping it annoys the shit out of you."

Heh, verbally abusing each other is a very important aspect of our relationship, okay?

"fuck you, chris white (do more drugs/drug poem #1)"

i wish to live

a life without regrets

i will go to great lengths

to keep myself safe

what is life

if not a lie 

we tell to ourselves and others

over and again,?

Come on, you've got to buy into my bullshit

it's the only way 

i'll be able to believe in it myself

(2)

the world is a cloud 

and i am a cloud

do i wish to always be a cloud?

i do not know what i wish

except to be with god

but i am not pure

i cannot be with god

so i continue to get high 

and go there that way.

inside our heads

we are all our own gods

i like to live in there

but i need to remember

to sometimes look outside

when i look outside

i see krishna in everything

and i take a bit more dope 

to further confuse my senses

is this my dharma

or will that have to wait?

(3)

i met a god, once

it appeared to me as a cloud

of a type i had not seen before

 i did not try to talk, at first

i remembered that i was high

and possibly incoherent

it spoke and it told me

that i should go hard

i replied that i had

it said that I should

go as hard as i could

"jeffrey, the thing is

someone has decided that you will be

the poster child for self destruction

it seems that those fuckers

need a patron saint

so i said:;"well, shit

i guess I'm your boy

i will live forever

and consistently implode"

so good people

you must now see

there is a reason why

i have to do drugs

(4)

i will go to my grave

telling anyone who will listen

that they should do drugs

i've tried them most, except

for that one, the one that scares me

I'm worried that 

it might kill another person i love

how dare i say anything 

about anyone's personal drug use

i am consistently high, and 

i'm not even all that picky, i'll snort everything 

it's okay, don't worry

pretty much all of us are incapable

of protecting the things we care about

you'll end up in the smoke 

if you think on things  like this too long

but in the smoke

everywhere, there is love, beauty, and

someday we will remember nothing

someday we will be with our gods

(5)

everything is everything

as has been, will ever be

everything moves along

"If you're foolishly in love with me/then it's a fine day for sure"

A blog entry?sure, why not. I don't do that very often.
This was written for a Facebook writing group. The organizer ( the fabulous Michael Hession) provides a title n the group has at it.

Scott Hutchinson was a musician  most famous for his band Frightened Rabbit. He wrote a song called Swim Until You Can't  See Land that basically told  listeners exactly how he planned to kill himself.  Then 8 years later  he drowned himself,  fulfilling the promise.  It sucks that he's gone, but fuck. What a badass thing to do. This is the kind of shit legends are built from.





"the ocean is quite a thing (in memory of scott hutchinson)"

(1)
the ocean is quite a thing
it stays, (maybe it's dreaming) it
just stays there
it doesn't choose to intervene

when i need to stare at something
i stare at water, and
I could get lost
i could go into the sea
and never come out

someone once said that
"the sea is a good place to think of the future"
but i don't want to think about the future
there's a woman nearby
who wants to spend some time with me
this affair may end badly

someone asked me what i was thinking  about
through my smile I said:
"the ocean"
             (2)
jane got to los angeles, and she was tired
she knew life would get worse
the fucking thing is exhausting
but she was near the ocean
she could smell the salt air

by a river so dry
it was barely a river at all
she sat and thought of her parents
and their reaction
and her ex-boyfriend's reaction

sorry to move along, but
life on a farm in flatland
is two dimensional at best
a person can live a life
and never go anywhere

such a fate could be a death
to some eccentric souls
some people need movement
new faces, new cities
new and similar problems to hide from
(3)

where will the wind take us?
should we drift to sea?
i guess i would live underwater
if i could

then again
i would miss the internet
most of my friends
books, and some of my family

but, to be a fish
oh, to be a fish
if i had the chance to be a fish
i would be a fish

do i want to be a fish?
yes, i want to be a fish
(4)

jane has no interest in school or  fame, or other glamorous shit
she inherited some money
and she was bored
and she wanted to live by the ocean

unasked, some questions are best that way
like: where did granpa get all that money?
granma might have known
but she took that noise with her
when she went down

it probably doesn't matter
when jane dissapeared
into the west and sunshine
people wondered if her body was in the ocean
she was never heard from again
(5)

i've threatened to drown myself
almost as often as scott hutchinson
unlike that legend, i probably won't
but I wonder: how would it feel
to go into the ocean and never come out?

or to come out as something else
nothing ends, things just change
and that's what i want, i want
to live another life
but i'll probably just fuck that up, too
whenever i get there

oh christ, it sounds tiresome
life after life after endless fucking life
so i look for people that i have loved before
connections one wouldn't think possible, they happen

the ocean, like krishna
is infinite and almighty
but i think i would prefer
to be in the god's embrace
i don't want to be anything
i just want to dissipate
into energy and light

blowin skunk gettin crunk

Here is a poem from January.


"the weight of glass"

it was a long shot philosophy

not that anything

can save anyone

why try?

because there is boredom

and there is bitterness

and suicide isn’t so simple

it is its own god

a beautiful nurse, or a muse

or a delusional blustery frog

there we were, it was cold

we were outside, smoking

and i looked at you like

you would live forever, like

nothing but me should touch you, forever

it’s just that if

suicide doesn’t get me, you’ll

die before me, probably

i ignore the world, i ignore

the chill, the thrill, the call

in my heads is a pregnant deity, i

am just so much wasted potential

if you see words

they were words, but also

something else, but probably nothing

it’s all nothing, really

we’ll shoulder our collapse, we’ll be ready