CNR #18

Tomorrow

Didn't used to like the music

but the rhythms were catchy

and the tunes snugged like tunics of blue.

Didn't drink the devil's waste

but a bottle bottom down

now tends to jump at my face.

Didn't taste the herb of earth

until a day came of such worth

where I learned that the world's in my hand.

Things I don't do today

for my moral fiber is great.

Tomorrow, will be deliciously grand.

CNC #17

Prayers of the Husband

Dear Lord, I've scored!

With the wishes you've granted it's the girl I adored

and adore, what a whore! She'll do anything to keep me afloat.

My once-shipwrecked boat now soars through her throat.

Clean like a whistle thats blown on the daily

and kept above two shaved rugs that once-snugged my Israelis.

Well, okay she's so great! Soft spoken and broken

like a wild horse thats now tamed, and believe me, she has no mane.

I've seen it all, against a wall, anytime I call, she'll ball, and she bawls

like a girl! Like a bitch, and when she gives me lip I give it right back

not with words but a smack to her back, or her front just to stun her little stunts.

She thinks the world of me now so I pray to you somehow to keep her safe from others

who might wish her harm! No this girl won't be threatened when under my arm.

The seeds I planted then I now farm and with charm and a smile like a tiger

with eyes like lighters and teeth that may fight her, but never bite her.

If I scratch, if she bleeds, my intentions we clean! Don't think I sound whiny

I'm just tired of climbing through hoops to feel good again so I'm praying to

give wood again and flood the forest that isn't there and put back just some pulled out hair.

Isn't that fair? She's my girl, she's my world and I deserve all I get.

So give me the best, or she'll live to regret it.

CNR #16

Fate

What I look for in this world that is full of implications

is a biconditional statement that we love.

Beyond the time of hearts tugged with the wind

and pass the points of lips meeting at whim.

When your mind comes home make sure it's not late.

Every second before is a stood up date.

I look through you like glass, and try to slip away

Maybe you never existed, and I'm not made of such clay

While I stand on the edge of the world and look over space,

and you play in the rest, forests, deserts, lakes.

I won't turn around to see what is deemed fake.

I don't have the strength to pull stakes from my place.

I love you forever, even when I will hate.

The ends coming undone, I'll lay down and wait.

CNR #15

Shot

I often drift to the big band thoughts

brass and shots and smiles caught between red cheeks

and fleets of people on their knees just to please

and to grease the wheels of pleasure whether weather permits

whether shame enters the mix, it is no matter.

Once splattered; mind shattered, once the dam is broken

and reality floods, I've been shammed from hammed

when the glory starts to part and departing myself

in a way that seems unfair, and I've never faired better daze

no matter the institution if the seeds are in ground

then my head floats around and my eyes are least dense

so they float to the sky. My mind goes dull for lost breath

due the proper winds on proper days and fabrics ablaze

or so I wish, I kiss the lips of the flames and can breathe once again

A cock among hens, and should they play contend or shiver

I'd sliver these notions and fester those potions until readier

heavier concoctions bared resemblance to the entrance of something wondrous.

I would if I could, or maybe that's a lie.

Regardless of truth, these day dream pursuits

are fruitful and splendid though they render me helpless

and speechless for each kiss, each thought drowns life in the pot.

But the steam is what I sought but it's not what it ought.

I look in your eyes and I'm shot.

CNR #14

Like Fluid

I will sleep soon.

In this white room with long lights and cold floors

I will fix the sheets and rest my head.

Visual starvation from today's pages

manifest in ways no sage could predict

though the predictions are meaningless if a change's spark is schemeless.

When the earth turns just so, the ground still leaks heat

so we don't freeze in our sheets;

so we can continuously bleed from one organ to another.

Blood flowing and dancing like a father's bride daughter.

It just keeps going and going, until one day it won't.

When her smile fades near a grave and a hole.

Which hole will it un-whole? All the more reason to celebrate

these seasons when shirts are just optional

and friends laugh like cellophane or kernals over flames.

Not colonels in flames, when life isn't just a game.

I can't think of a time when from a laugh I refrained.

and I'll stare down this drain and wonder where it goes.

Follow pipes in my mind to an underground mine

with flowers that grow from the slime, where it's never my time.

I'm not even a star, I just stand on a rock and it rotates around

because gravity is stuck and they say we're all fucked

and we did it ourselves, well the old always say that

when it's their turn for the shelf.

I'll never be up there, a sobering thought.

I open my eyes and look at the clock.

I close them again, wipe an itch from my chin,

rustle the blankets and forget, forget, forgot.

CNR #13

The Universe Observing Itself

I'd like to say I'm a secular being,

that my ends are my own, not scripted.

And when I found out my father

became a religious man

not through the church but through the atoms of the land.

Through the best reason he could muster

with the end looming ever so

I'd imagine he looks up from time to time

and wants to thank the stars and sky that kept him safe his whole life.

With the fortune we received, a bounty not from God, or god, but greed?

While it's kept in the family with a reluctant clean conscious,

we look up and thank someone, and pretend it was an accident.

I look up and thank someone, pretending I don't.

I can conjure a friend, like a lonely child would,

and rest all my concerns on his back.

I say, "I love you, thank you, you have given me everything."

I look down and close my eyes and I put my hands together.

I'm motionless, and thoughtless, and convinced.

Everything is okay, and I'll live free another day.

Amen.

CNR #12

The Ugliest Face

Emotions, like pilot lights, create flames

these piled lights collect and waste energy

but no fire spreads worse than fear.

The smog from this pile yields more year after year.

We are blind, but that's not new.

We think there is more than we can do.

But we are just what we make, who we love, and what we take.

But the fakes, so-called greats, they spew hate laced fate.

These days fame is validation but a spectacle is no need for celebration.

Its more invasive than expansive, shrinking thoughts, not expanding them.

And even I, with my thoughts, think I'm in charge of what I've got.

But all my perceptions are fallacies like a forest of sprouting and falling trees.

I can't see this game from a bird's eye, just as the birds are never grounded.

and even though I smell the dirt, I'm not sure where I'm found.

I'm not sure of my place, or how much is my space.

And so far all I can make

is a face.

CNR #11

Early Morning

I've been hungry since I woke so early this morning.

But I've put breakfast off and thought of you instead.

And why not? Though you can't fill my stomach.

And my heart may swell when I hear your voice,

but your voice doesn't keep it beating.

We hug and contort our legs so that the space between is negligible.

If we didn't I could just stay warm with a blanket and pillow.

You give me ideas I wouldn't of thought of, possibly, but had you not

said those things I would probably have other inspiring thoughts.

Had you never walked into class and sat like a princess who had

lost her riches. And if you never saw in me what few others have.

Had you never given me the clues, or worn those nursing shoes, or talked

so boldly about your sexual escapades and sworn off those who cared to argue.

Had you never done those things I would probably be downstairs. I would be

eating a bowl of cereal and drinking a tall glass of orange juice.

And even now I just think about how much you hate orange juice.

I would have the tallest glass, maybe even refill it.

I really like orange juice.

And cereal is good too.

But these days I can't help but prefer a nice breakfast for two. So, though I woke up with the sun this morning, I think I'll wait just a bit for you.

You look too peaceful to wake and I know you stayed up late, as did I.

I never liked sleeping with my chest to your back, because it's a bit uncomfortable and your hair is like a furnace in the summer.

This morning, though, I feel like this position is in order, at least, until you wake.

Then we can eat.

CNR #10

The stage, two rolling hills

Splash the sky, ripple filled

Brown intentions, Green reply

Squinted eyes, clamor ‘why?’

I don’t always have diarrhea, but you don’t write an action movie about the days the cops don’t get shot at.

CNR #9

Life For Two

Let us breed and take life into our hands.

We will make love with smiles and charms,

And watch sunsets like movies and consume nights like carnivores.

Craft bridges that we may later burn and do so without regard for anyone but us.

Touch fingers and allow what makes us to converse with subtle delight.

Plant ideas in each other’s minds until the blooming thoughts become entwined weeds that cross through skin and bone and forever tie two wandering souls.

Kiss gently what may have been bitter sadness and cold remorse.

We will never look down and the walk will never intimidate.

I will never break sight and the road will illuminate.

The world won’t watch or care and we will have feelings mutual to live in a storybook that will one day close with such ease and silence because the only energy we gave was to each other and nothing else.

In a world by ourselves.

CNR #8

Claire De Lune

True love, I’ve learned, is far from what I’ve been told.

Real love is not what is portrayed, or sought after.

It is a quiet understanding, and a slow burning flame.

You do not feel it all at once, but in the depths of the night it trickles little by little

And lulls you to sleep.

It doesn’t blind you like divine light. It swells like spring and takes its time.

And suddenly there is a beauty you had not seen before.

A familiar comfort, a small sigh at the day’s close, regardless of the view.

The intermittent realization that everything will be wonderful in the end

Because not only have I found what I never knew I wanted,

But I’ve found it in the most wonderful vessel I couldn’t imagine.

I never knew you until this moment, not truly.

And although I am myself, and you are you.

I’ve realized that you and I will always be.

Like flesh and skin we are akin,

And we always will be.

CNR #7

True Love

When I haven't slept well in days

And I'm well into a haze,

at the piano I will gaze

with disdain and amaze.

The incomplete alphabet

repeated over and over

and the manufacturing of this device

still floors me through and through.

I can't help but feel small sitting on the bench,

the wood beneath, in front and inside.

Maybe I am made of wood, and someday I'll compose a song.

I have sat sweat-drenched, furrow-browed, and bug-eyed

And made the keys weep so I'm not the one who cried.

Swirled drinks in my throat til they flushed like worries

til the blood in my head swam down through my neck.

And I've woken beside wood with no memories to my name.

drunk off more than just alcohol's stain.

I've thought to myself no never again

but tonight I will beat the sweet ivories

and punish the keys so they can't punish me.

Call the tuner in the morning to fix all broken strings.

Maybe tomorrow I will finally sing.

CNR #6

Things to Remember: An Essay by Rory

Whenever you think of things you have to remember, they’re always these big important things. Things like, “Where did I put my keys?” or “Did I leave them in the car?” or “Where did I leave the car?” But those are not the types of things that I believe should be remembered, or even be punished for. I think the things you should remember are the little things that you have forgotten.

However, after sitting at my computer for around an hour trying to remember things that I had forgotten I came to a startling conclusion; I forgot these things and cannot remember them. So I got my old photo album and looked through the pictures of myself when I was young. You wouldn’t believe this, but the memories came flooding back, like a flood.

For instance, I could not find one picture where my friend Jack was not by my side. Jack and I were really good friends when I was a kid. We would always play this game called ‘who can get in the most trouble.’ The game started as ‘Who could make the loudest noise?’ but we thought the former name did not fully encompass the game, so we changed it. We would also play this game where I would lock him in the cupboard and he would scream and scream. It was similar to “who can get in the most trouble,” except I always won. I was really good at it. Then one day Jack had to move away from the neighborhood because I got tired of my mom saying, “Aren’t you a little old for an imaginary friend?” I was like, “Look who is talking, bitch, you are older than me!” Except I didn’t actually swear when I was kid because I was stupid and didn’t know any better.

After I finished reminiscing about Jack, I looked through more of the pictures. However one of these picture enraged me because it made me remember the injustice I had gone through. I must have been a young kid, maybe nine or ten, and I was at the zoo doing what animals do, and nothing more. And yet I still got thrown out. Everyone knows that monkeys fling poop unless you show them who is boss. I saw this on a documentary or cartoon or something. So when I threw my lemonade (which was warm anyway) at the monkey to show him how wrong it is to fling things, I could have never expected to get such a stern talking to. It was like the zoo was out to get me. Oh, and then once they found out that I “apparently” didn’t know the difference between the information booth and a porter potty, they said to my dad, “You are going to have to leave.”

When I saw the zoo pictures of me punching the staff and screaming at the penguins I suddenly became ill of remembering things, I was like, “this is not fun.” But then I remembered another thing! This was when I played hockey. I remember being the best one on the whole team, but because of everyone’s jealousy I would pretend like I was bad. I would be out on the ice, about to do some awesome goal scoring and then I would think, “I should give this to someone who needs it.” So I would pass the puck to someone else, so selflessly. The coach would play along too. He would yell things like, “Put your skates back on! You need those on!” I would just smile and wink back, “You got it coach!” And he would act like he was angrier; he must have been an actor before he was a hockey coach. I was so selfless in Hockey that I never scored one goal the whole season, and I actually quit the team half way through. I passed on the beacon to those kids who needed it; I was content with the knowledge that I was the best.

Some people don’t get what you should and shouldn’t remember. For instance when I write a beautiful story about the time my dog was sprayed by a skunk and how funny and smelly it was, my math teacher says things like, “This is math class.” Or “You do realize tests are half your grade?” She wants me to memorize big things like formulas and whatnot. The last time this happened I told her, “Life is about the little things” and when she murmured, “then you should care about your average” I knew some people would just never get it. The good news is that I now have all of summer school to try to explain it to her. It took me a while to get it, but now that I do, I feel enlightened. And I can only hope, after reading this, you do too.

CNR #5

Monday Morning

I wake and wonder if today'll be a blunder,

if the spell I've been under will resurface or sunder.

The fact of the matter is the fog has been closing

and I'm choosing to let it with an effortless air.

To bring flares on a road trip or prepare for the boat

life jackets are just as restricting as hope

and flares can be dangerous even with good intentions

while the rules I once set are now constantly bending.

The straight line I once drew looks more sinusoidal

as long as it doesn't end up as a circle that traps in the bad

and keeps out the good and litters my life with no flames and just soot.

I've slammed and slammed my head and my foot on the floor and

I'm running down hallways of once open doors and looking for a window

or ladder to descend but the descent has been made

now I can't make the grade to myself I am Sade.

and while I'm suffocating I look down to my neck and just see my own hands.

Well I must be so full cause life gave me lemonade.

CNR #4

It’s All Reruns


At night I take pills and all day it’s all sandwiches.

I go to the beach which sand inhabits.

The sand, which in habit is colored like skin

From dead white to dark night sand and skin are akin.

Which brings me to say the point of these days

Is ambiguous to say the least and at least they hold interest

To a remembrance in my future rest and most futurest self.

Though the rest of my future seems on quite a high shelf.

I’m not climbing, not yet, though I’ve been set a net

And a fall would be meaningless, so the climb seems counterfeit.

Simulated imitation of what forefathers bared daily

And I stand at the beach and drink drink after drink

And think thing after thing, but things they do sink

Like sludge is my mind, a landfill of thoughts

So cover it up before I see my boss.

CNR #3

Things to Do Before You Die: An Essay by Rory

The other day I was thinking and I realized that someday we are all going to die. I tried to look up that day online but apparently it varies from person to person. All googled out, I went downstairs to mope and have a Pop Tart or two. Then while fishing the Pop Tart out of the toaster it dawned on me, light a spark! It was actually pretty intense because the fork flew from my hand and the hair on my head stood straight, and everything hurt. I had realized that there should be a list of things to do before you die. That way, you can complete the list and end yourself already, but you are happy because you don’t even need to be alive anymore.

Round two with google proved to be almost as useless as round one. I found a bunch of lists but they were full of things like “Sky dive” or “travel.” Let me tell you, diving is not only boring, but everyone makes fun of how your six-pack only has one squishy muscle and then you run from the pool and cry in the woods. This is when I had my third revelation of the day. I decided to make my own list of things to do before you die. That way, when I do these things I can’t say, “Who wrote this shit?” unless I am drunk and can’t remember. So, here it is, the list of things to do.

1) Drugs: If movies have taught us anything, it is that drugs are pretty great. The more expensive the drug, the cooler it is. When people are on drugs they do things like have sex, or do more drugs. These other drugs usually lead to more sex or maybe a platinum album. People that die from drugs are always important people too. You can try to argue but: name the last person nobody has ever heard of that died from drugs. You can’t!

2) Sex: Being a writer I usually get laid once, or even twice a day. Usually it is a passing girl who just takes one look at me, and just does me right there. Sometimes other girls join in too. It can get pretty crazy on the subway. Sex is always good, and when you don’t have a condom, make sure you don’t tell her your name, otherwise things can get messy.

3) Love: I forgot to mention that sex without love is a vile and evil act I do not condone or partake in. Although, now that I think about it, I can’t say I have ever been in love. In cartoons when you are in love, there are hearts all over your head or something and you float around. The closest I have come to love I guess would be seeing David Blaine levitate on TV. But I think I was just in love with the “idea” of him, or at least I heard that on Sex and the City one time. That show is very girly.

4) Child(ren): Having a child is something to do before you die for two reasons. The main reason to have a child is you can name it whatever you want. I tried to think of a really funny name for my child but I couldn’t so I just don’t really address it. I say things like, “hey you! Come here!” or sometimes I try out some names, “Jennifer!” or “Chris!” But the baby doesn’t really respond to any of these. Boooring. The other reason to have babies is because sometimes that’s what happens, although I guess technically that’s not a reason.

5) Flashback: This is one of the easier things to do before death because it usually happens right before death. What you do is you have a split-second flashback of your entire life and it eases your mind about the bullet headed your way, or the pill you accidentally swallowed, or the knife in your eye, or whatever. If you followed this list you might also have what google calls “acid flashbacks.” Those are different and not as calming.

I will soon upload this list to my blog so that within hours the whole world will see and follow this amazing list. Someday everyone will be efficiently completing their lives within maybe nine or ten years from birth! It will be a lovely world where no one has to live without love or really fast flashbacks. Sometimes death can be really funny, but then you feel bad. But then you think about that old saying. You know what they say: death is a funny thing, one minute it is here, one minute its gone.

CNR #2

How to Make Friends: An Essay by Rory

Some people think it is hard to make friends. They think that friends are never around when you are looking for them. I am one of those people. I am your average really good looking funny guy with practically a six-pack and everything going for me. I have a great job in the works and have almost gone back to school after my brief break to study what it is like to be in prison. In this essay I will explore how to make friends, obviously.

I first got the idea for this essay when I had no friends and wished there was a guide on how to make friends, and wha-la, now I am writing it. It is a guide that is mostly for me, but I guess others can use it too.

About a year ago I decided to try one of my ideas for friend making, that is, after the three-day waiting period. When I finally picked up my gun from the store they tried to sell me ammo, like what am I? A fool? I rolled my eyes around three times and said, “No thanks, buddy, I don’t need bullets to impress people.” Guns are all about image. If I stuff this gat in my sweatpants, walk into an airport, and try to pass security the beeper will go off. I would say, “Oh, I forgot about my gun.” I would pull it out, and everyone would have this impressed look on their face like, “Where did he even get one of those??” That was my first plan, but the airport was a little far. I ended up just showing it to a bunch of people in the park. The first guy ran away, and the second guy put up his hands in excitement, but then he also ran away. I thought the second guy and I were almost friends, cause I started to jog with him and I was like, “Do you jog with all your friends?” and I think he nodded, but it was hard to tell, he was really far ahead.

Anyways, the gun method had partial success but it mostly just got me arrested. This is when I decided to study what prison is like. Coincidently, I had to go there for a year anyway. It’s hard to know the real reason anyone does anything anymore. But while in prison I thought more about how to make friends. I remember one time I tried to pay someone to be my friend, but I think she wanted to be more than friends. But there are a lot of confusing parts about this method of friend attaining. I didn’t really get it; I don’t recommend it.

Another idea I had for getting friends was to order some. I had just ordered some nice soft L.L. Bean slippers off of Amazon, and I was ready to give them more business. However, now you will see a two star review next to Friends BluRay (whatever that means) because of many reasons. Number one: it is just VHSes of friends, like on the TV and (number two) they don’t even talk to you. But I did give them two stars because they were still really good friends.

My final and best idea for attaining friends is to simply to drink a lot of alcohol. Its funny, but I remember when I was fifteen I saw this movie with this girl. Anyway, some guy couldn’t get any action and then I think he drank a lot and something…. Maybe his father died? Oh wait, no- I have it. Never mind though, I was thinking of something else, it doesn’t matter.

The point is, I have reread this little guide many times and even typed it onto little note cards and put them in my wallet. I add new ideas to the note cards sometimes when I go out drinking alone, but in the morning I look at the paper and I am like “What?” My notes usually say things like "Make yourself a nickname like Moose or Jordan" or "friends don't want to see your calculator, buy a better one". The pick-up lines I have read online don’t work on people either. After you say them sometimes girls hit you and all the time guys hit you. You pretty much are going to get hit a lot in the plight to make friends. But the key is to roll with the punches, because when you do that you look like you are dancing which only further increases your “cool.” Now, I am not saying I am the master at getting friends, but I did write this guide.

All in all, friends are very important. Because if you don’t have friends you end up trying to get them, and it just looks pathetic. This guide I have written is pretty good, but I don’t know if I understand it yet. I just have to wait for that day where the words jump off the page and show me exactly how to make friends. I imagine the words would sprout some legs and make this strip club look similar to a perverted sesame street, you know, with the words jumping around, showing me how to make friends.

Note-Card Notes:

- Give yourself a cool nick name (maybe Moose?)

- Talk about cool inventions you wish were real (metal human wings, helicopter hats etc).

- Don’t insult the alpha-male to show dominance.

- Bring icepack (ask bartender to keep icepack in freezer)

- Don’t always show gun.

- Don’t show them the guide (assume they already have friends and are friend worthy)

- Keep blackouts to a minimum.

CNR #1

Humble Origins and Endings

I used to write quite a bit. I would spend hours at home toiling away with constantly erased poems in notepad. Too afraid to do something fun like start a game or even draw a mural but too bored to start my homework, I would sit and spit out whatever came to mind, much like now. And I guess that leads to now. I was hoping to have more written by the time I reached this point. A kind of bitter sweet ocean of ideas that flow through the brain like once forgotten letters found in desk drawers with scribbled jokes and drawings that may have been an artistic abomination but certainly serviceable to portray what tom cruise would look like if he actually did eat one thousand dicks. The point, though, is that I am browsing through all these ideas that I once thought would make good material to write about and share but none of them particularly grab me. In fact the one idea I keep coming back to is trying to not start all of these sentences with the word “I” and I’m not sure but I’d say three “I”s in a sentence should equal an “I” beginning and now I fear that I’ve fallen into a structural depth that I cannot escape from.

This all stems from my fifth grade teacher who, to give you an idea of his character, set me aside and apologized for pairing me with the ugliest boy in class for reading groups and was later fired for referring to a child as a Jew. Maybe not a Jew, but a jew. I wrote a paper that he did not take a liking to. I believe he thought I wasn’t a very good writer, which didn’t surprise me too much because I was in fifth grade. He took the green pen he used to correct (because he believed that red pen had a bad association, so now I think of green and red in a negative light though I am thankful he never discovered the ever flamboyant rainbow pen), and circled all the times I used “I” to start a sentence. “It’s a memoir!” I pleaded, but it wasn’t enough. After seeing all the circles I did kind of see his point. I I I am doomed.

Now that I’ve spent a paragraph writing nothing of relevance to anything I think I have set the mood for what this will be: A place for thoughts and other gay things. Instead of taking a seat on porcelain once a day, I think I’ll come here. It may seem silly but our sewers have much less shit than the world wide web, so to contribute to the www seems like a drop in the bucket and an nbd. Come, stay awhile, take off your shoes, read up on some info, and clean up that mess you just made. You could have at least aimed for a kleenex.