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gutterbreed β Burned
Published: 2006-05-03 22:50:29 +0000 UTC; Views: 523; Favourites: 1; Downloads: 25
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Description
We washed away yesterday'sHabanero sunset with
Tequila that burned only
Half as bright
Venezuela dust tastes like
Tepin powder, you said
The children there have
Blisters inbetween their toes
Down in Caracas the
black-footed locals called you
Savina, a name for
Wild gypsy dancers and
Women who leave men as
Charcoal ash
And now you're with me, little
Milk-faced girlchild who
Fevers at the thought of your
Capsaicin mouth
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Comments: 24
dammit. this is beautiful.
i knew there was something missing from my daily reading.
you write too well.
we should do a book together, you do all the work and i stamp my name on the front next to yours.
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i'll get you a special gold-embossed stamp, with curliques around your name! and mine will be printed with sharpie alongside it
went to check out your ms site...love the beats
this is probably my favorite insofar, because i didn't try to hard haha
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yeah? awesome. thanks for digging our stupidity!
aren't the best poems, the easy ones? it sucks, i could spend like 4 hours writing something or just churn out a 15 minute piece of poop and everybody likes the quickie. but then again, who doesn't like a quickie...? hmmm... i think i just confused myself.
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ooh, that makes me feel wickedly good
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can computers sweat? i wonder...
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There are a lot of words i dont understand...hm, maybe i should look at a map x.x
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really? it's not that elusive. i tried to keep it simple.
go look them up on wikipedia and tell me when you do.
that's your homework for the week.
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Homework sucks fat Rabbi ass.
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this poem burns. it's not just the words you use (though they definetly helpβsunsets and tequila and blisters and gypsies, they create a pulse so strong i an almost feel it from way over here), it's the story. it picks me up and spins me around before setting me down five miles from where we started. there's some need, to know or to experience of god knows what, but it's compelling in a way most aren't.
thank god yo've posted againβi think i was about to start going through withdrawal.
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i'm starting to look forward to your comments like i do kitkats. do you know how much i love kitkats?
i dunno. personally, it feels unfinished. i had spice in my brain and had to put it somewhere, but i really didn't know how to do it these days. i'm going through one of those "question my writing" phases. don't even get me started on prose.
i've reached the conclusion that we BOTH need to write more. probably why i started the journal, but nobody reads that but me. but i do write more now, and it helps inspiration from time to time.
we're withdrawal junkies, that's what it is
see you soon ^.^
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ahhh LOVE the fire imagry...
quality, quality, quality! need i say more?
~ kit
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haha! no, you don't - three times the quality is great praise!
thank you!
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hahaha yayyyyyyyyy
~ kit
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no, YOU are.
oh, this could go on forever.
let's just leave it at "i love you"
i think it sums it up better than anything i could ever write
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indeed, indeed.
i love you...more!
haha, the argument is what we live for!
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YOU more!
that's my nose!!!
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YOU AIN'T NEVER GETTIN THAT NOSE BACK!
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OK there's a chance, my postings may catch up with me, and you might have like ten of the same comment from me, cuz the computer spazing, but as far as I can see none went through, so I'll try again.
Girl, if this is what you write when you're not in the mood. It's like a written invitation to a seedy/sexy Latino world to which a white bread like me just stands at the edge in longing and fear. It sound likes a begining of a story or novel, every word is so rich so well placed "Capsaicin mouth" who thinks of that? ahh I wish there were books and books by you I could read, but all in good time I guess 
Hope you feel better, babe
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i'll write a book someday. it's a little goal of mine but it never takes off. i never feel ready, or something needs to be done first. it'll probably wind up scattered like my thoughts.
my dad just came back from shooting a film in caracas, which is where this all came from (although it has nothing to do with my dad). he sat me down and told me story after story, showed me hundreds of photos. he also went out into the jungle where the children have bones in their faces and tapirs for pets. that i'm putting away for a rainy day and another subject.
i also have this extreme tendency for spicy things, hot things. i've become mildly obsessed with scoville units and the effects of capsaicin, all sorts of things. theme after theme. but you can see how it pieces together. i guess what i'm trying to say it..."well-placed" isn't quite how i feel, just...themed.
every time somebody puts down a tasteful line, i say "why the hell can't i write something like that?" or "i wish i had thought of that phrase." i find whole poems in other peoples' lines, poems i can't write because really, they aren't mine.
oh, someday i'll gather it all together and file it away neatly. for now, i have echinacea and vitamin c to keep my thoughts occupied.
thankyouthankyouthankyou. comments like this make me feel better already
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Your Dad's a film maker? ANything I could look up?
Venezuela's been on my mind the last few years, dig'n Hugo Chavez, there's few I look up to on the world stage, but he's one so far, so far, because sooner or later, it seems, everyone falls and becomes corrupt.
One thing I learned the hard way, never rub your eyes after slicing Habaneros.
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actually he's a local tv producer, this is his first film. it's very small-budget and indie but he's having the time of his life - maybe you'll see it when it comes out, who knows?
you should go (i'll be heading down there when my dad goes back) - i hear it's insane. and jeez, that sounds painful. almost like inhaling hunan peppers
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