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Showing posts from January, 2011

B is For Defy

I’ll try to keep this to a paragraph…
I was born with a big head. Thus I am brilliant. My adenoids were bigger than a new born’s. I’ve had asthma for as long as I can remember. When I was fourteen I almost died because of it. When I get sick, I get fever crossing the 100/102 Degree mark. Once, my mother’s doctor said if I continue to get high fevers like those I could go deaf in one ear. Fun. Did I mention the hallucinations I used to get when the fever went too high? I’ve had painful ear infections. I have scoliosis. I was told [more or less]: operate or die. We operated. Twice. In the space of two months. Because my body being stubborn as it is, decided that it needed to dislodge/reject certain parts of the process. Right now I’m experiencing my second [known] chest/lung infection. I am a Mucinex ad. MY DOCTOR tells me that because of said scoliosis one lung is healthier than the next – crap will continue to happen unless I take up swimming. No biggie – I planned to anyways. My left …

B is for Ill Will Happen

A few hours ago (Tuesday 25th January) I shared a glorious revelation (or revile-ation) with my mom and a few friends. It went something like this – “the universe… keeps thinking of ways to screw with my money.” I’m serious.
I had some extra change. Small, but just enough to put something down on a bill or two and start clearing off the smaller bills (two in particular).
As a side note – when the Trinidad & Tobago Mortgage Finance Company Ltd tells you “three to four work days” what they really mean is – “prepare to wait and duck your creditors while we feed you with false promises and hopes, quite like your father.” But I digress. Well… not really… but anyways.
So I have some small change left. I’m feeling pretty good (to some degree) with this. I managed to make a budget. I’ve taken out the money I need to pay X and Y and a couple of ZZZ; I could still get me a jeans or two (WESTPORT HAS A SALE ON RIGHT… NOW!) and have money left over. Praises Be!
Oh but what’s this. My throat is …

B is for Screwed

In the end we are all harlots Monogamy is too high a price to pay For goods and services That in the end Are no good
Shafted by 9 to 5 pricks Haunted by Fat Greasy Spirits Who offer little in exchange for a ride on our backs And we accept it Because needs are immediate Fears are overwhelming And morals… Don’t stand a chance against collectors at the door
Fake no more Oh to fake… no more.
December 31, 2010 Screwed Three Text Maximum © tracy j h

B is for Screwing with Homos

This is me. It's 4:30 pm and I'm standing in the bank when suddenly [and without warning] my mind starts pondering biology. and i realised... my goodness, strictly from a biological standpoint, homosexuals are royally screwed!
consider: according to biology [and the British natural history documentary i saw forever ago] a woman looks for a male who appears to be sensitive and caring and sturdy most of the month. this says to her basically, that should she get pregnant, this male would provide for her offspring.
however, according to biology [and the British natural history documentary i saw forever ago] THAT SAME WOMAN will look for/be attracted to a big strong mandingo because he [biologically] appears to be healthy for breeding offspring at the time of her ovulating... ting.
so to recap. Nice sensitive men are providers and security. Mandingo is for healthy breeding partners. with me so far? good.
so you're a homosexual male. perhaps a little effeminate too. your reward for b…

B is for Mine Mind

Click on the Picture. It will take you to the video. The video has electrodes stuck to my head. And a foil cap. Why? because i've found a way to let you see some of the stuff that goes on in my head. Science... [iChuckle]
PaX

B is for Lyre [the devil is a...]

i wrote this last year. though the feeling has passed from me...  oh hell, i thought about dumping it, i thought about re-editing but jeez.. it's gone. still what is left is this. so enjoy the devil... is a lyre. pax tracy j h



The devil is a lyre.
Feel good music. Close your eyes and follow the pied piper.
The devil is a damn lyre. On the count three, breathe deeply Your soul’s in need of thee.
Wait a minute! Forget the seconds Your eye’s too big for your stomach Full of lies. Your stomach’s full of lies that he told ya. Walk it off, walk it off foot soldier.
The devil is a lyre Softly sweetly playing that depressing tune The one we love while we lick these wounds
The devil is a lyre. Eager fingers pull strings trying to find their voice over a tight beat. Still got played. Gold shining Recently sprayed Hides the rust and tetanus… from us. So we play on. Players. Instruments of destruction Play on. Player Faces die from malnutrition but don’t stop the music. Still your nerves. Take a drink Still more needs t…

B is for Drawings

things i did today...   i sat in a meeting...  the client was.... adding to my already... disappointing mood.  so i started drawing.
the end.

B is for Nothing

I am my older brother of my sister’s son. I am the past, the future The only one that matters Yes I alone matter The only one who will survive the impending disaster.
I am the fault off of Every Man The beginning of every plan and the end of all relationships I chuckle at the logic of man For all things revert to me And when this place is no more I will simply say Goodnight And close my mind
My sister is space My brother is time And I Am Nothing.
I alone matter
January 10, 2011 Nothing Really [random ramblings rumbling inside] Three Text Maximum © tracy j h

B is for Ghost Chair

A ghost chair haunts my hours And devours my memory.
I hoped that She and I would become WE. Wrapped in each other’s skin. Like Sunday Sunday, when the air grew still around us As she Breathed life Into my being And I became deeply religious Every fibre thanked the Father that She and I were here Crouched hungrily on a green chair The very same that haunts my hours One Two years later
The familiar I follow But it will not lead me back to her
December 25, 2010 A Ghost Chair Three Text Maximum © tracy j h

B is for Anger (What the world needs)

last night i had a blindingly obvious discovery. what the world needs is not LOVE. it needs ANGER.
consider this: when one is "in love" or "loved" or surrounded by a feeling of "love", a Utopian sensibility clouds one's senses. everything will be fine because you LOVE.
but when one is angry, it is as if a blindingly hot poker is sent through one's mind [i borrowed that from battlestar galactica... clearly] and suddenly [and without warning] you see things much more clearly.
you ask yourself: 1. what is going on here? 2. what REALLY GOING ON HERE? 3. how can i change this? 4. what's the best course of action moving forward? 5. and so on [which usually leads to action]
clarity.  so then i say to myself and you
maybe... MAYBE what the world needs is not LOVE but a righteous does of ANGER. i'm not even advocating rage but hey...
all you need is ANGER

B is for The Living Rage

[and it continues]
My rage could blow up buildings The back draft pushes me against the wall. UGH!
MY BACK! It hurts I am unsatisfied There’s still much to be done. Break up walls and block out the sun Obliterate the world with my eyes Till this rage ends all whom I despise.
No rest for the wicked Still I toil in vain. STUPID!
But I can feel pain behind swollen eyes I won’t stop till I get a release Till in my living years, I could rest in peace
January 5, 2011 The Living Rage Three Text Maximum © tracy j h

B is For "Where the Food Goes"

happy frakkin new year. enjoy a selection from a new project coming soon. pax
Where does all my food go? With all I eat I should be fatter Quite
But I have noticed How my rage is full And alive… And full
I however grow hungry by the hour And thirsty by the day
This Has got to stop I am empty inside and gas pained
Rage though gives me focus Truths easier to ingest Information easier to process And it has given clarity to my eyes
Yet I am hungry Or more pointedly, thirsty
Midnight snacks feed a need But satisfies no one
January 2, 2011 Where the food goes Three Text Maximum © tracy j h