Captain Kellogg’s Fun-Time-Boat-Ride and Unsolicited Synagogue Sex

Captain Kellogg’s Fun-Time-Boat-Ride and Unsolicited Synagogue Sex


In the wide-eyed corridors of treason
There is little left to know
Where the young and old cheat and steal
And make their lovers pay a price
Beyond that of any actual decency

There have been countless, who in their tangled woes
Have embarked on such journeys
Not knowing the exit strategies
Nor caring who was punctured or, if in haste
The wounds would ever congeal

Jokers, smilers, quiet ones, indifferent ones to name a few
All of whom knew their place from father to friend
Lovers to loved ones, black blooded and cruel
Exasperated backbones, melted from within
My eyes sore from tears and sediment

The man was I, and hunger and thirst were present
And counselled with arts and ideas
The thirst was quenched and the hunger resumed
Angry at the neglect, potent with desire
The turning page of the love judges rule book, alit and alive

A hunt would begin, the volunteers long since expired
A decomposing search party of wanderers calling out to lost love and lovers lost
In a night that burnt with articulate uncertainty
Where no one could know the consequences of a twig snapping or an owl`s cry
The perilous and often fruitless reliance on instinct

A back and forth of certainty and doubt
And so when familiar places were uncovered first
An opening seemed to reappear
Like a freshly torn scab from a morticians model
No blood would seep however, the tissue already deceased and gone
And there was knowledge that one could still not escape without wincing

Old faces were found, touched well by time
Familiar smiles, richer than before
Interests peaked in the minds of sinners
Long since forgotten lust, basted once again
The awakening of the beast with the tender taming of pink, boiling love

The pursuit then began on the shores of familiarity
Old hurts, a weak but throbbing reminder
Of the ancient hunger’s woes
Chasing away apprehension
The threat of indifference giving way to new understandings

And so we thought fate was working with keen eyes
We trusted in the poets to deliver blood rewards for thirsty veins
For knowing then that games had been entered
With little chances of much success
Optimistic surveillance frothed from the mouth of innocent desperation

Choices were made and self-prodding was committed
The mortician within ripping new scabs and looking inside
His microscope an excitedly expectant bride to its findings
This tissue alive, his job obsolete
But within the masticated holes, the realization of ability and newly freed enamour

The certainty of caring for another, a prize unto itself

And so the party hammered away at the bush
Building an arc of damned men and damned emotions
Entering two by two, as the murky rain of uncertainty and chance
Poured down, heavy and quick
The boat lifted, heaved, hoed, and lurched forward into the gaping maw of the blackening earth

For countless days and countless nights it slid without anchor
Bobbing up in hope and down in misery
Calling out to sister ships
Priests and rabbis stripping down to nudist nothings
In hopes of finding religion

And then, at what seemed the deadliest pass
The vessel was accepted into another plane
One of heat and friendly fires
That hit and produced blood, but enriched blood, swell blood
And as it poured down the arms and legs of the skeleton crew, they danced
Skin and bone gyrating in the neon pink, flickering firelight

A drawing of three was made over some period of time
And with each one, the loving flames grew higher
Familiar smiles returned once again, a sequel to a prequel never filmed
The unreliability of the unbelievable pumping in chests
Long deprived of movement

And in that elation of love once again found and present
The memories of past fallacies and fallout
Crept back like weaker counterparts of their original carbons
With a newfound realization of what was thought to be
Their place, their meaning, their devil’s dance card

A girl with a fish-puffed face
A frozen pucker, lush, velveteen
Held me once under the youthful pangs
Of trepidations set to music
Lights low and quick, yet somehow slower than she

A boy with bronzed flesh
The king and queen of abandonment
Never was there much assurance
And though frequencies mixed
The pink dress of masculinity made all ridiculous

One with Aryan charms
Gave love strong when licked with madness drink
A melancholy of wild lust and refrain, like a revolver shot hot into space
The heartbreak stung throughout the decade
And from it stemmed poison tipped tittle-tattle that would last about the same

The next an echo of the one before
A chamber of sameness , poison and all
A look and belonging, that of someone else
Took me for jingle and a jumble on the floor
But by the time he hit my head against it, not a drop came out

One a friend first
Who’s intermittent shows
Of confused confectionary affections
Risked being a friend second
But pulled out instead
Taking my heart along for the doomed flight

Another flaxen nowhere needle
Made me fall from a leaning tower
And all along it I yearned for what was merely self induced eons
Alas, he was something that someone else would mow and bring forth
While another with a mind so smashed would confuse and pursue me
Pushing the nowhere needler far far away in the throes of mistaken identity

You know, I think she wanted my eyes

Dark night followed in heavy pursuit
I refuted every attack, and attacks often they were
Heaven supposed it was sending a cattle king for my liking
And he grazed for what seemed like forever in my stable
Though beauty for sure, infected with nonsense from within

In short, it did not take

For a briefing I tried my luck at the Persian tables
Not even liking the poorly pitched product
The sweltering heat of desert stupidity
Self proclaiming self worth
Getting not a pace closer, the same story in a different land, dying in a different time
Hating hotly placed desperation with aggravated passion

Taking then time
To allow one next to the tables
One closest to them at a time
To enter into my soul
A former companion of he, scorned by shame and hiding
In what I saw as the patulous branches of disrespect

He lived back in the lava lands
With skin olive white
And after hourglass upon hourglass of back and forth dances through childhood teasery
I knew it time to sever the many heads of the Hecatonchires
Not ever knowing if he knew just what was lost
With the solemn realization of ever present dimness
Even at the height of his glow in my mind’s eye

And by this last
My shell was all but crumbled
The estranged prophets casting me into burning Prague
A heat vast and white like a cancerous dog
Barking blindly for death needle

To be alone and to wither
To cry and to corrode
To abandon and be insipid
To remove nerve endings and feel nothing
To crave not and want not
To enjoy nothing
To be free within it
To fuck it
To taste it
To love it
To waste it
To drown in it
To inject it deep
To vomit it
To re-consume it
To be ravaged and filled and spill nothing
To romance nothing
To love nothing
And then, this

This love

This something

An out of control
Out of nowhere vision of pumping life
Of understanding for all before
Of hope for all to come

In this the gingered eruption of joy
An unbridled glee
A calling of perspective
A realization of beauty
What beauty truly defined

Knowing a fire could come tomorrow and disfigure you
To not care
And knowing a disease could come and cripple you
And knowing you would be loved more
Knowing the pettiness of the superficial
Gave way in every fold to the reality of feelings

To know there was reasoning
Behind the hangman’s fevered pleasure
At seeing me squirm on an oil slicked rope
As he cackled beneath a match
Alit for a cigarette he’d never come to smoke

To know my blood coursed for this interlocking
For this conjoining of two
For a mirrored yet peppered friend
Who gave back the slick creative roundabouts
And challenged as well as aroused

To know all these things
And then to know

The return policy
Was still a valid one

And to know
Though I was being returned
To the hag headed reception
The testimony of feelings

Was not

And with that my skies reopened
And the flood resumed
The ark nowhere in sight
Gone with the presumption of better days
And promises of promises

And so we starved on soiled foods
And so we drowned on too much drink
And so our bodies mildewed and peeled
In waters rank with piss and disease
My earth was filled with unfathomable pain

And when the waters dried
The ground glowed
With the growling entrails
Of a thousand angry corpses
Frozen in the horror of their final moment’s heartbreak

Dead too were the Frankensteinian freaks
That once pursued with the same force
In which others repulsed from me
Still sewn together from all the things
That could have been, should have been and never were

With everything dead, waterlogged and decayed
The ground absolved all feeling
And so I was back
To my little nothing
The hand that held me faithfully
Six feet under the atmosphere

The search party gone
Not even dust remained
My shell completely strewn like the estranged prophets
Irreparable amidst the chaos
No creation to be found

And the solemn realization
Of fact and certitude
That solitude was the course
And that with all good intention and class


A world was offered

And with imperturbable detaché

Unconditional love was declined




Yeah. Now it’s dark.

First times are always MESSSSYYYYYYY - Rob Englund as Fred Kruger

So umm, I guess I'm getting into blogging. At least that's what's suiting me right here and now. I'll probably lose complete and total interest in this shortly, but for now this is what I'm doing.

So my first post, a bit about me? Well, I can't be bothered getting into that either. In fact I don't like the whole first post process. I don't know where to begin, I don't like this easy-breezy no topic hippie mentality.

So guess what? This is my first post. Let this be the first of many uncensored ramblings. They'll get better though... they should anyway.

"she's nobodies child, the law can't touch her at all..."

- Dylan.