a new day, a new way, time to say whats on my mind or what i need to write, to write, to write, this is my town, this is my life, tired of looking for women and the only women i find are those who treat me like straight trash, tired to being lied to, but i guess i have to stop lying myself, the only thing i lie about though is my drug use, i use drugs and what are you going to do about it, if no one has done anything about it my entire life, what makes you think you could do something, i do drugs because they help me cope with life, they help me talk to people, without drugs i dont do anything becuase i am afraid of everything, i can't talk to people, nor can i talk to girls, its just the anxiety in me, i had this friend, this muse of mine that i was deeply in love with, lets call her Melissa, i was in love with this woman and she was in love with me, but the only thing was that we had this intimacy issues, i dont know, maybe i had them or maybe i did not know how to get a woman like that in the mood, maybe its all in my head, maybe she never looked at me like that, but after being with several women and about a handful of them acting the same way melissa did, makes me wonder maybe the problem was not with these other women, but this problem lied within myself, i have issues, i am a product of this world, and most of my life i have felt like i did not belong anywhere i went, even my last relationship, all of her friends, all of wandas friends they acted as if i was this strange person, even up to the last minutes i spent with wanda it was the same and now as i think back on it, it makes me wonder about all my relationships, maybe some of us are not just made out for things like that, i like what old people tell me, when i grow up, who is going to take care of me becusae i do not have children, i would not expect my own children to take care of me, im a writer, just like poe, my family is in these words i write, my life is expressed in these worlds i create, i look at people like wanda and i know and i knew i could not be with her becuase i could never ever talk to her like i do to other smart people, there was no way i could express myself to her, i mean i thought i expressed my self fully to her, but she was a stupid person and she did not like to read like she told me she liked to read, i am a writer, this is what i do, this is what i do with my life and my time, i write and when the person that you love they tell you to put aside what it is you love the most in life, the only way i know how to communicate with others is by writing, this is the only way i know how to get others to get to know the real me, and when a person that you love tells you to stop writing and to instead concentrate on finding a job so you can support her and her habits, even though she says she is stopping those habits, i know deep down that she is not stopping, she is not doing anything to make herself better, this is when i have to make the decision to stop hanging around people like her , i have to say bye and i have to be mean about it, ive spent the past half year trying to change, to get outof the life so to speak, and she wants me to stay in it, so i can get her high and keep getting her high and so she can keep living the way she wants to, but what about me, where do i make a choice or decision, where do i have i say in my life, i do not want to be a slave to a woman like this, i would not mind being a slave to  a woman, but a woman that woudl treat me like this, i cant do that anymore, now if there was a woman that loved me and tried to do something for herself, well that would be different, but a woman that does nothing for herself, i cant help her anymore, its not bad, its just real, i am getting older and the older i get, i want to find someone i can share my life with, i know i never will and in the future the people who will want to share their life with me, will be so difficult to understand, but sometimes that is the life that we are all made for, sometimes i just have to accept that trash that i see and just ignore it, i just have to be me, i just have to be, i am worth something better than the life i keep putting myself in, and this is wisdome that my best friend has told me, my must Melissa, she told me that i am much better than the life i keep putting myself into, its time i listened to her and all the positive people in the world, im tired of the negative and the negativity that i put myself into, now i see it as my choice and i decide to do something good, like my name is earl, good karma, do good things and good things will follow you, i know i will have to pay for sins, but i think i already have been paying for these bad sins, till tomorrow, keep writing and keep loving, poetry

It is Monday and a new day for a new month.  This month has the birthdays of my favorite people in my life, or those that are important, for the next couple of months these birthdays are present, in March and April.  But lets get this thing started.  I will write in this blog everyday, i will present my ideas to write out what i have to get out of my head.  This will be my column, so to speak, a stepping stone so i can damn the world and still be safe in my little room next to my computer, be it a laptop or a home computer, does it really matter as long as the writing is done?  Who out there still has a word processor?  Do people still remember what a word processor is?  these are the old processing computers that were only made to write papers or essays, what ever it is you like to call them.  But lets get started.  So last week I was at my "girl-friend's " and i really loved her, but all week long she had been acting strange.  there are other times when she acts strange, and there is always another guy involved, that is why i hate women sometimes, i want to hang out with a certain female and she tells me she wants me too, but deep in her head she is thinking about being somewhere else, but this girl lets call her rhonda, which is not her real name by the way, i have to keep the innocent innocent, or in this case i have to keep the guilty guilty, but rhonda has no shame nor guilt, so it really doesnt matter, well one night when i am over there, she tells me her friend is coming over and he needs someone to talk to, for me to sit in the living room, and she took him in her and did her business.  Sung him a lullaby, is what she likes to say, make him fall back and his eyes go back, well she did her thing with him and hung out with me like nothing.  I was disgusted.  I did not want to hang out with her anymore.  i thought she was ugly for doing something like that.  now i know we all do things that are shameful, but is this right.  i mean i told rhonda certain things about my life that i don't tell anyone and i told her in complete confidence becuase i loved her.  and she did the same with me, telling me things that she did not tell anyone else.  but then she went and did this, and then i found out she was doing this all week, making money, which had me thinking, this is how she makes money, she tricks, which just made me want to throw up and to think that i had some kind of love, some inkling of love for her and all she does is this.  she does not care about her kids one bit, sometimes she lays down and wants me to lay next to her and she wants me to hold her, but i cant, she is a disgusting person, ive never been with a female like this and i dont need a female like this in my life right now.  First things first, i have to get rid of the girl, i have to stop hanging out with a girl like this, she has no respect for herself so i have to get it through my head that she will have no respect for anything in life.  and God knows i tried, God you know i prayed for this girl, for this woman, and still she decides to do the bad things.  Sometimes you just have to walk away and dont look back, i have kept looking back for the past six months thinking she will change, but this time i have to look forward and just ignore her for the rest of my life.  its a shitty thing i have to do, but when you look at what she has done to me, she is just as shitty.  and yeah drugs are involved, but i work for my drugs, i make money and buy my drugs, i dont sleep around, i ve told her she doesnt have to do that, but she wants to sleep around she wants to be ugly she wants to be disgusting, she wants to be uggh , i cant live with a woman like that.  i know this world is full of women that are not like that, women that have minds and that can think, Ivan you need to drop this rhonda, and move on with your life.  i have already let rhonda take so much time away from me, from my writing and its time i took back my time and did what i need to do with my life, which is what i am doing right now, write. 

the cancer

The Cancer

I am in your heart when you are sleeping.  When you are awake, I am beating softly behind your livers.  When you feel distraught, I am beginning underneath your teeth.

That pain in your testicles, that lump that makes your balls feel uneven, that is me.  That lump in your throat, that lump in your breast, that lump in your hips, it is me.  That gun you feel at the back of your throat is also me but with French benefits. 

            When you are sluggish and do not feel like doing anything with your worthless self.  When you are feeling left out, like you don’t belong, not here, not there, not anywhere.  That is me my buddy.  That person who is beginning to feel get on your nerves because he never stops calling you daddy, that is me getting under his skin. 

            They will never believe you, wherever you come from.  From the Swiss Alps, or from the French tits, you will not be believed.  What comes with your intelligence also comes with any side order you get at any fast food restaurant.  Don’t think that you can fool me into doing anything, but what I would like to know is how you come apart so easily, why do you succumb to non-truths, yet you believe them before you believe your own heart.

            I am your dark heart beating non-triumphantly, awaiting the next drum beat to spell the end of the life for you.  I am that wind that blows nonchalantly through the trees and begs you to please yourself just one more  time before this whole world goes up like the

She was shaving her legs & then slowly moved to her nether regions.  She sat & carefully removed her hair.  I rubbed her smooth thighs & rubbed her button thinking it was a magic place & waited patiently for a genie to emerge.

We know not what we do.  We know not what we say; we know not what we fill.  When the bowls of earth decay, decay. Riddle my fancy with swords or gutter shame.

How the wind blows away each letter.  Each letter held together with weak glue.  But I think the weakest element involved is hope.  The hope I supply is running out at such a slow rate.  It is running along the spine & dripping deadly to the floor.  Each drop resembles each minute I held on to a painting which was never mine to begin with.  Why is it that I want to find out the finer things in life?  Why do I search out for glazed-over ideals?  Julie is so perfect; she does not know who is stabbing her.  She thinks she has perfect knowledge over my overbearing grimace, but I think she is playing the part and she is, without a doubt, winning.  But what is the prize in this game.  Does she feel powerful in intimidating me?

Remember when we climbed to the top of the building.  How we ran around, in and out of the rooms because we had nothing else to do.  Running in on sleeping people dreaming of sour cows that gave purple milk.

I miss the long beautiful days we spent

Even if nothing was done, I have no regrets,

It was a house with three big rooms.  Each room had its own bathroom and every bathroom had a large tub.  I called you to visit and you came.  Love is a strange disease; it can make you sick when it is not around.  Julie, my girlfriend, I want her around me all the time, but she does not want to hang out with me for a long time.  It’s not me or my bad habits.  It is her; she is growing up and wants me to leave her alone.  I no longer have any sort of pull on her.  It hurts.  I cry a lot sometimes; waste my soul away at being hurt.  Why can’t I just get over it and let her go.  Forgetting someone is very hard.

How lowly the leaves blow from a torrid height

A bright nincompoop with yellow fur

But that urge to learn, from sordid sights and hollow breath

The wind whispers truths of loving kisses brought forth from a

Wicked flower, how I long for a taste

The end of sorts

Holding the knife, you forget who the real murderer is.  Is it really me or the child inside of me?  It’s like holding a pen when you don’t know who is really thinking of the situation.

What am I knee-deep in, is such a horrid delusion, I wonder if what I feel is really my own feelings.  Sometimes before the glue hardens, I feel superior.

I saw her, there lying on the floor, in rigor mortis.  My flower, my dream, my sweet, sweet belladonna.  How is it that death looks so tasty on such pale lips.  What drives me to utter despair wishing to feel your touch again?

            I walk outside to take a breather.  After killing the woman you love, sometimes fresh air does great for the skin.



thirteen

playing with your dinosaurs
eating this city corrupting this
youth playing Bach to alive
ears you were a monkey i was
a junkie showing you not how to grow
and without a comet falling into orbit
i was making myself extinct
because i was afraid of what laid ahead

blah blog

so come to think of it, I havent eaten in five days wondering what kindof crap im going to get myself in this time, the older I get the grayer I become, my friends hate me more and more with my aging but that’s okay ive got lots of things to write about as I get grayer like tarzan

unnecessary dead

coming along the nicely mowed lawns who wants to cut my yard, i said he was wrong, but to suggest anything that is surrealist is crazy so yesterday i went to a writing workshop and i helped other people and i took a short story to get critiqued(sic) and my luck was that i had two people give me feedback on my story, either it was not liked or they didnt know what to say, i showed up with a real story and sometimes people dont know how to respond to art when it is right in front of them, this is what i am reduced to, i am lightyears ahead of my time and i just have to accept it, my critics will be in the future, in the future i will be able to describe and get feedback, or maybe it is just this town i live in, maybe i have to go to some literary town and find something out

say what

its been a while, but im reading and writing hoping to get published suckers, that i will do