Lyrics for Ill Rapute 2.6.97

Disaffection as protection
Can't stand rejection
So I hurt you first
I don't care
But I want you to care for me
I don't care
But I want you to care for me

Kneivel Without The Crash (early '97)

Falling without impact
Like being on a ride
Blood without a wound
Like jumping off to glide

waves without a tide
like rolling up a hill

Soul Transplant (early '97)

Cosmetics only go so deep
skin grafts just don't keep
he needs a
he needs a donor
for a soul transplant
soul transplant

2.15.96

she wore a turquoise bracelet to
ward off the spirit who watched
her with one evil eye
she had a crick in her neck
from looking behind her, and she
kept on looking, even though each
time made her cry

That Wasn't Heaven 2.14.96

I blamed the apple
that you gave me
for the hell that I was in
It was a meal, freely offered
and not a symbol of your sin
My garden needed tending
but I fiercely called it fine
the lean-to shelter sagging
from the weight of twisting vine
which in my blood encrusted dreams
became a black and hissing snake
who sang me evil songs
and told me I could take
your love for granted
but couldn't take you at your word
and soon the serpent's s'es
were all I ever heard
so I'll take us from this eden
to a place as dark as me
and say that wasn't heaven
just a nasty shady tree
there were monsters in there baby
I just couldn't let you see
so take this snake and hide it
where it just might let me be
take this snake and hide it
bite the apple just for me

2.8.96

I hope that I can make it
down the stairs before
my brother hits the ground
they dropped him, they dropped him
he didn't have their candy money
so he died

No Date Early '96

He didn't know
couldn't tell
his soul had risen
but his feet still fell
couldn't see
had to walk
his love sang his songs
hsi anger won't talk
cold air, breath visible
warm mouths, indivisible
blue eyes, open slow
warm frame, center of balance
is low he didn't know etc.

No Date 1995

my apologies are female
they take me by surprise
as if I'd inhaled some helium
my voice begins its rise
an encrusted Easter candy
its inner wetness shocks
apologetic blood from deceptive little stones
those testy little rocks
hiding sisters saying sorries
and mothers backing down
loves unleashing worries
and daughters crying clowns

12.17.95 (II)

Through discussions over furniture,
and coffee bought with coins,
by movies seen in hollow buildings,
past crossword puzzles and broken mugs,
a face stares out.
An animal, right there. In front of me.
Unpredictable. Dangerous.
Unreliable as far as expectations go.
And utterly adorable.

12.17.95

There is no doubt, fine sir,
that your meanings far surpass
the scope of my inferences.
The original correspondence struck in
me a chord of recognition, a
tune of a note that spoke to
my recent feelings as to the
nature of my own writings, henceforth
referred to as "bloated empty silos".
Thus, my response to said correspondence
(watery.grave.com) was merely a small
potential self-reminder, a cerebral post-it,
if you will ( but I fear you won't) to
actually SAY SOMETHING. And, this realization,
having been caused by your poem, was
akin to a ship dropping through clouds, for
I had trouble grabbing at it with my hands
it moved so fast, and when it landed on
my head, or more exactly, IN my head -
it hurt.
I was intimating, quite clumsily I
readily admit, that I would prefer a
quick drowning to the useless tripe
dribbling out of what I have come to call
my ink-asshole.
It seems we share a certain emotion
concerning the written word, and would kill ourselves
off in liquid fiction for it. I envy your ocean as
I inhale the tepid soap ridden filth - drowning
in my own bathtub.
Please keep sending news from the front.
I hope this little misunderstanding will only
deepen our coffin of a literary alliance.

One who muses too long,
BO'M