half blind, spitting, straight into the wind, by yosh dow
my car was towed at 3am that morning, i was very sick from drinking and taking other things the whole morning pushing overflown wheelbarrows of concrete around on single planks making a path throughout a muddy foundation
on top of crying and whining and bawling because of the car ( and the not being able to see clutch that night ). no class, low-class, whatsoever, everything was hanging out all over the place. sheer absurdity. unbelievable.
i made it through the work day with the promise of the retrieval of my Xanax RX, money, weed, concert tickets and ID recovered from the vehicle currently impounded. faked it enough to borrow a car from my angel of an Aunt, mothers sister.
drove to Gettysburg , you know because it was”on the way” to lancaster, not really. not allowed to get near or in my impounded car at the dealers lot , my Subaru wagon, repossessed by the dealer for non-payment. no Xanax, no weed, no money, no concert tickets (show was sold out).
i have one friend in lancaster (i hate pennsylvania) . i manage to track him down and get to lancaster, didn’t have my “meds” that day, regardless of my disease, i was on these things regularly to no avail so this sudden cease of dose was an incredible undertaking. so getting stoned on reefer amplified my situation and my feelers grew to excess. i was living through hell, a dank, swampy, swirly, buzzing, jungle like hell.
so i held his couch down after i got to the chameleon club as early as i could to try and score a ticket from someone. spent my only borrowed 25$ within 5 minutes of being in line to a kind lady who had an extra ticket to spare.
the only other time i had attended the “chameleon club” was in about 2002/03 and i was carried out the door for being a ‘mosh pit shark’, causing disturbance, etc –
the club was very small, smaller than i remember. small in that whole, ‘the walls are closing in on me’ sense. that frozen but sweaty, stuck in the same position for over an hour rebound anxiety you get comfy with because you’ve got no other choice.
they opened with immortal and the only thing i could really hear the whole entire set was the outlet of my own yelling and screaming over top the band . it was miserable
it was spiritual , and it hurt
show & tell, a short thought. by joshua dow
Often times i make the attempt to involve you within my intellect. A large part of me has a desire for thought connectivity. I want to just open the valves and let everything out, let my thoughts run away with words. Discovering some new band, seeing some cool art, for some weird fucked up reason i think the other person might have an interest, and in return i only feel the disconnect that follows rejection. my biggest fear, rejection. something i never allow myself to deal with, rejection. i stumble around on a plane of endless, timeless, worthless information that my bones ache to share with someone. uncovering layers upon layers of topics that pique my own interest, unselfishly wanting to share every broad stroke with the broad that sits beside me. Though the attention span gets so bad sometimes that the focus is completely lost within minutes, or has just completely moved on to the next. just breathe, i think to myself. there’s always next time, i tell myself, wanting to make it all about this time. Considering myself an open mind, a kind soul, a loyal heart. Being told I am rude, mean, asshole’ish. In one ear and out the other, lucky to make it through the first ear. Face stuck in the fucking cell phone – I demand attention, because i’m a fucking genius, goddamnit. Pay attention to my ideas, my thoughts, my expressions. You might never witness something so genuine, so pure every again. Though i digress… My insides prune, my face wrinkles and my teeth slowly rot. Never could i share my feelings fast enough, for who knows when i’ll go. Never could i share my feelings period, really.
Kitten Cat (my little theodore) a poem by Joshua
a kitten sits next to a cat
with it’s/his/her holiday scarf wrapped
neatly around where the neck should be
this thing doesn’t have one
no neck feline
washboard abs, do cats have abs? cats have
washboard abs? an eyebrow piercing,
tribal tattoo -no a barb,-ed wire tattoo
right above on a farmers tan bicep
the section of his arm he
begins to razor off the hairs
this pussy can shave itself
or girl cat
young and very cute
buzzes and purrs so much
you’d think he has a 2 stroke engine
motoring on down between his
little kitty ribs
right where a heart would be
a tiny block engine
untitled, a poem
misery is a part of the
experience we call life,
you will feel joy again.
in one way or another
you are not giving yourself
what you need to thrive
most likely, that thing is love
loving yourself can be very hard
if no one else has really loved you
that you, also have love
and if you are loved
you will never see the true-self
until you see the you that is
through the eyes
of those who you adore
the new kale, a poem
you’d like to think
that her dreams
were very nice,
soft, smooth edges spanning the length
inbetween the rounded corners
of a familiar shape.
plastic covers on the electrical sockets, too.
clear, flexible 3 prong insert
grossly overlooked and transparent
against a painters pallete
of the 2017 color trends.
last year: peach, pineapple
the year before that: kale
the use of food as names
run congruent with the soup du jour.
next years will be an off-white,
we call it cauliflower.
cauliflower is the new kale.
and i will take neither in the form of soup.
plastic pillow covers creek though-
and clash. and the zipper breaks
primrose yellow pillow is practically
bursting out at the seam
giving it some attitude,
‘rough around the edges’
a much unseen disheveled display,
even for a seat cushion.
the dazzling blue,
blurring into the primrose yella pilla,
all mixed in front of that cadillac white
they brood the hazy purple
that has been named,
Please note that:
your dreams show no evidence
that the color ‘radiant orchid’,
had made its way in
to that place i found in your dreams
when you were surfing your brain waves
and i was surfing your couch
slurred speech, a poem by yosh dow
why not add happy holidays?
to that narrative,
right behind merry christmas,
if that’s your thing…
carry out your positivity
assuming you radiate any positivity.
its understood someone may not simply
go out of their way to say Happy Hanukkah
if that person wasn’t a jew.
that person on the receiving end-
may be wise to express their narrative
and respond to you with their own
all demographics should garner your best wishes.
that’s only playing fair
you protest nothing by “choosing sides”
the side you now choose is arrogance.
kaboom, a poem by yosh dow
Todays the day
Go out with a bang
Steel will dangle from the veins, blue.
Pumping blood that’s a darker shade of red
Though said to be blue before oxygen
Reaches the white cells
The red cells
The last day
The fifty second, fifty third last day
The last, last day
One last nail
Slam the shit show shut
The nail in the coffin
The birth of the death of a chronic disease
Beginning of the end
Check that punctuation
No funeral for me
I will be the one to bury you
They will never bury me
Not six feet under
Not even five feet eleven inches
Not in this dirt
Though i could use a nap
And after all, my batteries are about to die
selfessnish, a poem by yosh dow
wipe my nose on the cuff of my shirt
wear my heart on the sleeve of my jacket
wipe the blood with my right hand
pour dirty water over top the pin hole
saturated brain, misinformation
but its still roasted, brittle and sponge like
its like i have no control over my racing thoughts
when i get the chance i beg GOD to think positive
when i get the chance i jam myself up to feel better
making so many plans, i plan to make nothing
this needs done, that needs finished
lets start this.
lets start tomorrow
i think that i’m thinking.
turning my eyes inwards,
giving up on blinking,
but thats not my choice.
it just happens
and i have no control
usually i can force myself to stop before
i cross the line
my head, what a mess
thinking of someone else
isn’t what i do best
Motorcat, a story by yosh dow
Where is the cat and who made the last unusual noise.
There are times I am just not sure. There isn’t a big desire to speak about in first person. I am staring away from the computer screen as I type this. The cat eating my leg brace laying on the floor full on attack mode. The paranoia has gotten me right now .
For how long though?
There is or there is not a correlation between feelings and events. Do physics prove the laws of attraction. Is this kitten attracted to the couch. It keeps trying to scale the thing, sort of dance around the corner like a boxer. The black cat just jumped 5 feet in the air, okay 4 feet in the air straight up because the kitten came at it, full lunge. Theo jumps to a roll and places the entire tip of my suede wallabees in his mouth. Brown earthy looking Clark Wallabees, flat top\e front. Theo feasts upon it and my brace, back and forth between the two, The little mini (right now_ feline is going banana’s , so lively. Such spunk. Theo is not a cranked enough name for this powerhouse. He’s on it. Motokitty. MotoRkitty. Lemmy. Or Bonzo. But she suggested Lemmy, after his name was decided on Theo in an unspoken but certain agreement, (I presume).