sorry bunny

sorry bunny

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

not share experiences

beating yourself with a hammer for stubbing yr toe with a hammer
is not maybe the best way to treat one's self

I am putting this into the category of "not share experiences"

talking about beating yrself with a hammer for years afterwards and how much you have to self-discipline yrself years after you stubbed yrself

also in the category of "not share experiences:

not being able to relax and viewing yrself as an eyesore with a slight cute quality that therefore allows people to accept you, like the way it has become more popular to have a pet rat, or gerbil, or baby eye eye...

in the category of "not share experiences"

shutting down every time you make the slightest mistake

in the category of "not share experiences"


getting back up and trying again even stronger next time, and never giving up, and always trying hard and being super enthusiastic and being able to take any weird odd damaging strange experience and still loving everyone and believing in a collective consciousness

category of "not share experiences"

and as you know not/zero becomes infinity
and "all share experiences"

forced free write for 14 minutes

are you intelligent?
what if one day you woke up and couldn't use your brain in the same way? you could perceive the way in which your brain used to work, but couldn't make it work that way...?
how blah blah blah all the sounds and people and mouths would become
all this joy, how you got there, you smile and laugh when the drum-stick hits the drum
and the crash syllables

all the toe slapping good time

fingers that can't move fast enough for words that can't move slow enough for lips to hover
lips that stop space and time

illness that degrade and give off the illusion of age

money is every where
money is eternal
money found the fountain of youth and drank it dry

we night time swimmers spin still
waiting for the woven string to catch up to our tongues

in the meantime we sing
and twist our lips, and even a tinge of breath makes a soft hum
like an electric car
all roads lead to death, money, don't you know
honey you cant be old and alive for too much longer

love and rockets
yooung memories
i hate those punks now
i hate most punks
because most punks are living off their pappy's salary & ignore me at shows

why didn't momma pay for my court settlement?

sometimes it's not money it's privilege

i'm not white i just look white

i got that light-skinned privilege but not that white privilege

i got that light girl privilege but not that "I've got a family who can help me out in bad times" privilege
except i do
cause we're Arab and we take care of each other, sometimes we're just all poor.

maybe it does
maybe it doesn't make a difference

that my grandmother travelled some miles from her home, not even taking her sentimental objects, told she would get to return

Israel's occupation is so real to me.
It's so real.
It's what I understand to be the root of my mother's trauma. gunshots. and war. racial discrimination. religious oppression.

it's part of why i am afraid of the dark. and afraid of the mouth
who weaves words that slip under yr fingertips and move yer hands about
shielding yer face
covering your heart

i can literally feel when my heavy heart opens and closes because of how heavy the latch is, and how many things whiffs of wounded wind rush out every time i open it.
i feel so good like a drug just to open my heart
and to lay open in the house of others
because i live nowhere
and my heart is the only home i know
i have 4 family members total home is
you dream
of becoming


and you, a dream,
cycle back and forth
staring at clouds like children in the sunshine on concrete in the backyard waiting for mom to bring strawberries or
maybe you are a cat
and your parent figure is waiting for your return to pet you

your fur is upturned
and your claws, fins that help you swim
in this ebb and flow economy colony
 i call out
one arm to the folds of skin called wind

and screech banshee banshee--

i forgot nothing!
i carry one sword
and when my heart is bare i hold it inbetween my teeth

please God, I wait for you to pick up yer mess

in this catatonic state i wonder are you catatonic too?

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

the point is

being outward even when it hurts, sharing information that can't be used
wearing uncomfortable clothing
unfinished words
unfinished body

to show that even in an unfinished state
one can still breathe

i'm alive & dead at the same time!!!!