Time heals all

I'm so horny
That's ok, my will is good




























































Rows of cars for miles
I can not breathe here
Underneath the moon
Poppa's sprung a leak

My friends are feral cats
Reclining past the police
I don't need it now
No, I don't need it now

My nose still remembers
My wrist still recalls
My mind is receding
My pain's my only feeling

She pulled out the knife
Asked him to slit her guts
He just wanted to get laid
So he did it her way

Rows of cars for miles
I can not breathe here
Underneath the moon
Poppa's sprung a leak

My friends are feral cats
Reclining past the police
I don't need it now
No, I don't need it now

My nose still remembers
My wrist still recalls
My mind is receding
My pain's my only feeling

She pulled out the knife
Asked him to slit her guts
He just wanted to get laid
So he did it her way
~~~
Realizations make me yearn so hard
Crave so hard
This feeling of resignation leads me only one way
Boredom and withdrawal
Makes me hypnotize, idolize
The one thing I really know
I stay awake all night staring at the light
The world spins around the light
This is my sleepwalk dance
There is no one outside my trance
And if they say I'm trampled wretch
Well then fuck 'em
Cos I will plus venir all night
And if you're right you're bright
But you do not exist
None of my friends are real anymore
My only sanity is this shame
My only relief lies in my vein
And they'll never see it coming
When the trance leads to hanging
Who will be left when I'm gone
And they'll never see it coming
When the trance leads to hanging
Who will be left when I'm gone
The reason no one writes anymore
Popular opinion claims pain is fleeting
One more night
It's just one more night
One more night
It's just one more night
Come breathe with me
Inhale, inhale, who's the victim?
Exhale, exhale, exhale
Two lights back and forth
Waiting for darkness
Don't control my fingers toes
It works its way up my arms legs
My torso shakes as I write
I hear it come from behind me
Psychosomatic addict insane
I fear it comes from behind me
I never see it coming
It crawls up on me
I give it a chance sometimes
And then I'm high like a star
And I will die alone

And what truly eludes me
What truly irritates me
Is that for nothing else I am myself
But I am no different
And what truly eludes me
What truly irritates me
Is why they ostracize me
Is that my only sin is not that I feel this way
But that I will myself to admit it
I beg you
When you get that call
That you fear every day
When you get that call
Print these pages
And share them with the world
But not a moment before then



Rape me again
Am I the only one?

So every time I watch or read something about Woodstock and the general hippie movement of the late 60's, I hear the same metaphor used by attendee's, producers, performers, etc.: that Woodstock was the planting of the seed and today we are seeing that seed blossom.

I was almost 5 when the U.S. Government sieged a compound of Branch Davidians in Waco, Texas. Two years later a Branch Davidian sympathizer bombed the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. I was 13 years old when Muslim radicals hijacked four planes, flew two into the World Trade Center, one into the Pentagon, and one crash landed in rural Pennsylvania. One month later the U.S.A. invaded Afghanistan. I was 15 when the U.S.A. began the invasion and occupation of Iraq. Not two months later, the U.S. Government declared "Mission Accomplished" in Iraq. Not but a few months ago, my cousin returned home from a tour of duty in Iraq. When he returned, he was stationed in Fort Hood, Texas. Not long after he got to Fort Hood, a Muslim radical shot and killed 13 random victims at the Fort Hood military base. One week later, as my cousin was escorting the family of one of the victims in a memorial, he met the President.

I was 20 when the second biggest crash in stock market history occurred. Today, people argue whether bankruptcy today or bankruptcy tomorrow is the best solution for decades of corporate greed.

I have two possible explanations for what the former hippies are saying today about the seed blossoming. The first is that the seed they are referencing is habitual drug use, and the blossoming refers to the dysfunctional emotional and intellectual state long time drug use results in. The second, is that they are old, and they are scared that when they die they will be forgotten. So they are scrambling around to tell us how important they were.

I think the fundamental flaw in the hippies' argument that they mattered is that they claim to have been dramatically different from any generation that came before or after them. 10 years before them, the Beatniks were traveling the country doing various forms of Opium, having rampant sex, and writing some of the greatest literature in the form of poetry and novels that has ever been produced. 20 years after them, Kurt Cobain was traveling the country taking various forms of Opium, having rampant sex, and writing some of the greatest literature in the form of music and lyric that has ever been produced. 2,000 years before the hippies, Socrates was a hobo living in a public park in Athens taking various forms of Opium, having rampant sex, and writing some of the greatest literature in the form "modern" philosophy that has ever been produced. I guess I don't need to spell out what's going to happen 2,000 years from now.

Maybe not, I don't know.

I guess they're going to wash away my sins while my Dad and I sit in the back and snicker.

Note to the polite: sometimes, when you think you're returning the favor, you're just being a pain in the ass. Sometimes people just want to do good and get nothing in return.

More love, more power
More of you in my life



Love never fails.
~1 Corinthians 13:8

back to the lab again, yo

When the young boys go to war
And the young girls are growin' old
I'll stay here and write about it
When everyone else has gone home

When I lost my job, my friends, my girl
And I had no reason to await the morrow
I stayed here here and wrote about it
And everyone else just went home

I am still young man
And all I want to do is smile
Instead I stay here and write about it
While everyone else just goes home

I try to make my mark once in a while
But I am weak and can not stand
So I'm gonna stay here and write about it
And you can just go home

You came home to me came home today
With so many things you had to say
Wicked women and bossy men
Ruined your day now you need a friend

But when you're down it gets me off
And when you're low it gets me high
Seeing you sad just makes me glad
And it's better than sliding between your thighs

Your day-to-day soft-spoken ways
Gives impressions that all life is okay
So seeing you come home from work half-past Eight
Well to me that's just great

When I reference God you speak of luck
Like I'm just some dumb fuck
You look so smug that I dug
Your grave you petty bug

When you're down it gets me off
And when you're low it gets me high
Seeing you said just makes me glad
And it's better than sliding between your thighs

You came home one day and it took further
When you said the Muslims committed murder
Everytime they pray for peace
You declare you want a piece

Your hate-speech makes me quiver
And you're so fucking jealous of her
So I'll take you down by the river
And solve you with my backpacker

When you're down it gets me off
And when you're low it gets me high
Seeing you sad just makes me glad
And it's better than sliding between your thighs

We are one in the Spirit
We are one in the Lord
We are one in the Spirit
We are one in the Lord
And we pray that our unity will one day be restored
And they'll know we are Christians by our love
By our love
Yes they'll know we are Christians by our love

We will walk with each other
We will walk hand in hand
We will walk with each other
We will walk hand in hand
And together we'll spread the news that God is in our land
And they'll know we are Christians by our love
By our love
Yes they'll know we are Christians by our love

We will work with each other
We will work side by side
We will work with each other
We will work side by side
And we'll guard each man's dignity and save each man's pride
And they'll know we are Christians by our love
By our love
Yes they'll know we are Christians by our love

All praise to the father
From whom all things come
And all praise to Christ Jesus His only son
And all praise to the Spirit who makes us one
And they'll know we are Christians by our love
By our love
Yes they'll know we are Christians by our love

Well if you got something to say, then say it
If you want to proclaim a love, then don't blame
Me if you don't
But I get this feeling you won't
Because we tend to run n' hide
We'd rather go inside
Then play by the fire
And risk being called the liar

But you need to know it's easy
And I know that from the back of your tooth
You spill only the truth
So you can do this today
So if you've got something to say
I promise it'll be okay
But if you'd rather rest, then lay
Cos I seen the way
You came in by
And who could blame you
Not me

There's a million things you could say
You could make me untrue
All you'd have to do is undo
But you need to know it was always for you
What else could it have been

When you're gone, when you're gone
When you've traveled on
Please don't sing my song

Allah. won't you cure our greed
When we give our money to those in need

Allah, there's only one God
And Muhammad is His messenger

red salute
black salute
Albanian National Liberation Front
American Indian Movement
Anarchist Black Cross
Antifa (Anti-Fascists)
Black Panther Party
Socialist Party of England and Wales
Earth First!
Women's Liberation
Food not Bombs
International Brigades
International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers
Italian Radical Party
Jewish Defense League
Labour Representation Committee
Socialist Workers Party
National Equality March
Otpor
Red Army
Saor Eire
Socialist International
Socialist Youth Front
United Farm Worker of America
South African Congress Alliance of Anti-Apartheid
Rage Against the Machine
Zimbabwe African National Union - Patriotic Front
Spanish Socialist Worker's Party

Whew.  Devotees deserve to know I have a number of longer pieces of prose I'm working on for this.

Devotees know that condensation builds on the only window in the room.  You and I know the truth.

I don't want to spout out some pretentious shit like "I used to be good at this," so let's just leave at this: I used to do this.

Maybe I should just throw together a half-assed quasi-paragraph where I drivel on about my day.

Sometimes I stand outside of buildings and smoke a cigarette and think about all the already noticeable harm those things have done to my nose, tongue, throat, lungs, and colon to name just a few of my fleshes.  I think about when I used to win just by smiling.  These loses jade me.  I repel for a multitude of reasons.

I read a story the other day about a woman who's son was born without arms.  As the boy grew older and became a teenager, his mother was aware that as a young man, he had certain urges.  She decided it would be best to jerk him off.  She said she thought he was different enough and that getting off would help him have a piece of normalcy in his life.  This behavior goes back to biblical days/stories, as rabid incest would have been necessary to populate the earth.  Stemming from Adam and Eve, there would of been absurd amounts of mother-fucking, father-fucking, son-fucking, daughter-fucking, grandpa-fucking, uncle-fucking, aunt-fucking, brother-fucking, sister-fucking.  That kid's gonna have some great sex when he's married.  We tend to fuck with the lights off so we can imagine we're not with the boring, annoying, ugly, fat motherfucker who makes us want to paint the walls with our brains 23 1/2 hours a day.  He'll do it so he can picture momma.  Heaven forbid the kid fucks some couch cushions or his mattress like every single fucking 13 year old boy does.  I wonder what Jesus' masturbatory habits were like.  I wonder if that lady swallows.

I'm still in love with all the same people.  Save for a 14 year old girl living in Leeds who has virally wooed me with her guitar and voice.

I need to fuck.  It's been a long fucking time.  And a back-rub.  And someone who just generally gave a fuck.

When I was in High School, I had a surprising number of really fucking hot chicks tell me they were gonna pray for me, that they were worried about my eternal soul, that I wouldn't get into Heaven.  All my memories of this, for some reason, were in my Dad's old '98 Ford Taurus.  They used to tell me that Heaven was the most amazing thing I could imagine, that it would be anything and everything I wanted it to be.  For me, Heaven is a place where, instead of praying for me, the really hot girl gets in the back seat of my Dad's '98 Ford Taurus and I fuck the shit out of her.  I think when I was younger I had some pre-conceived notion of women, that they were worthy of respect, praise, and time.  Now that I'm older, I see that those were not women, but little girls, who were so fucked up in the head that they actually thought it would be a good idea to conform with MTV's conception of what men want: a brainless blonde with tits wider than her shoulders and a waist that could fit inside their father's wedding ring that he lost after the divorce.  It's good that the overwhelming majority of women my age I see walking down the street are so much more concerned with my dick than my mind.  Apparantly my own gender has become so violently heathenestic that getting a hard-on stroked by a porn-star wannabe is the penultimate definition of love.

The other day I saw a woman I found attractive.  I actually said to myself "you know, women who are willing to look like themselves are really cute."

And that's the extent of the moral encouragement you'll get from me until you quit driving like some sort of fucked up palsy Penguin with ADD.  Seriously, learn how to drive.

And since, according to the Bible, we're all a bunch of inbred white-trash motherfuckers, I'll bid adieu with a git-er-dun-diddly-dumbfuck-done.  As well as an incredibly brief sneak-peak at my next (hopefully) highly-offensive piece of (extremely) dark (probably not) comedy:

My name is Ryan Jacobson.  I am a Janitor at Foundtech's corporate HQ in Boise, Idaho.  Someday I hope to meet a nice Polish woman and settle down with a couple of Ryan Jr.'s.



You'll have to wait.  Until next time

Mahalo.

I am a blind man crossing the road




plus venir

In the morning
When the day is done
I'll look above
Look for number one

And if I see you
If I catch you standing next to me
I will claw and I will scratch and I will bite
Because tonight's the night

Yes tonight's the night
When I name names
In my love ode
In my lovely abode

Yes tonight's the night
When I share the fame
All this thieving and perceiving
Well it's driving me insane

In the afternoon
I try to keep fulfilled
Cos it keeps my mind away from home
Where the pornography's filmed

And if I see you
If I catch you standing next to me
I will kick and I will scream
Because your light was just a dream

Yes tonight's the night
When I proclaim your name aloud
And if I get too loud
It is just because I'm proud

Yes tonight's the night
When I give you all that I have
All this breathing gets me seething
Til there's nothing worth redeeming

And in the evening
When the day is done
I'm looking for a woman
But the girl don't come

And if I see you
If I catch you standing next to me
I will laugh and I will sing
Because you always saw right through me

So if tonight's the night
That I spread your name around
I'd have nothing to write tomorrow
So I'd better keep it bound

So if tonight's the night
That you and I commit the bind
I've got no wares to share
So I'd better give it time

An excerpt from Sleep Tonight, Sweet Child.  Sleep Forever, Sweet Child.


Which is a poem by me, Greg Schell.





The longer I wake, i bake, i die
Fight til we're free, you'll see me fry
I think it's clear this is a __LIE__

Moisture builds on the only window in the room
We'll be the ones they'll never find
You and I will know the truth know the truth
You and I will know the truth

It's on another plane insane don't ever ask a question!
You're just waiting on ghosts to bring you answers
Dig up the truth the truth the truth and see it with YOUR EYES EYES EYES

It all connects, the slate is full, I'm here now




The full piece can be found at love-a-sinner.livejournal.com/39071.html#cutid1

Sometimes mother dear your child won't come home
He play like he don't care and he won't even pick up his phone
But mother dear do not fear it's not you he's fighting
Cos inside he's dying from his Daddy's flying

Mother Teresa don't fret your son gonna play the gamblin' man
And he's gonna reach for the pipe and claim he got dealt a losin' hand
I see you mother dear cryin' out "why's my boy resistin' me"
Sweetheart it ain't you but babies need daddies that're home consistently

Someday dear mother your boy trades his pipe for the needle
And the control the drugs hold over him gonna make you feel so feeble
It's a test of humility hate and love to watch the boy feel so serene
But inside he's writing his own closing scene

Mother Teresa you won't hafta throw the bum out of your sunny home
Cos he only show up when he needs money or a phone
He'll look you in the eyes and tell you "Ma, this is the man that I have to be"
And you know that it's bad man gonna try man gonna die man he's a dead man but he don't see

Somehow dear mother the boulders fall on your shoulders
And it's up to you to turn the nightmare over
Cos someday your boy's gonna wanna peel back those calluses
And really feel life again and that's what your challenge is

My Daddy found the twilight of his life when he closed his eyes tight and opened his wrists wide
He couldn't cope with what his own Daddy had engraved inside
Alcoholism and Depression in the midst of the eternal economic recession of the working class
Maybe Ronald Reagan can understand why so many Americans turned to grass

And Mother Teresa I paved the path your boy walks today
So my external apologies will never be enough but they're all I can say
So if your boy gonna be the gamblin' man
Maybe it's a good bet that the bullet will end his Russian Roulette fucked up excuse of an existence

As a man I can testify that you share the pain your son delivers with him
Cos nothing will sting him quite like knowing that the woman that gave him this life
Is being eaten from the inside

And you can remember the day dear mother that your boy came into this world so innocent
And you promised him he'd have everything he needs to live it
And now in his dying hour he claim that he don't you
And you know there ain't no God to save anybody - but I need you
I need you

Whoa dear sister
Have you forgotten me?
Don't you remember a better place?
Needles and lines have done me in
But I did not throw out your face

When the night would come
And I picked that picture up
It'd be out the window or on the dash
It would always rest on the last

And I would choose to smile

Whoa dear sister, do not be afraid
You're only dreaming
I didn't write you this one
When the dogs shout
It gets out that I am in love

When will the day the come
That you'll wake up
And I can hold you and never let you go
And we'll fly from the throes

Who else makes you smile?

Whoa dear sister, have you lost your faith?
It's the same story here, year after year
Men misuse you and push you around
Did your world fall down?
Your pain does murder my soul

When the morning comes
And the mourning is done
I swear to do you right
I'll wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hold you tight and remind you
That I'll make everything alright

They left you hurting so many ways
Some things can not be undone
But my love weighs a ton

Whoa dear sister
My love weighs a ton

This is a poem about Brittany
This is a poem about the girl next door
Who you do not meet until you move away
Who knocks your jaw right onto the floor

Brittany likes to talk about the past
Cause she's 18 and 8 feet tall
She's worried she left her best times in High School
She's scared transition is a fall

I try to teach her that's all that life is
A series of static transitions
Where you have the same job for 40 years
And all the while your dog your cat your mom your dad go and die

Then you spin around and fall down
When you wake up you have your own kid
She thinks it's all fool-doggery
She's scared to place a bid
On a place in life

On a place in life

They will tell you that you are not enough
They will tell you that you are insufficient
Sometimes you wake up crying and you don't why
Sometimes I think it's cos all you hear are lies



Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh, shh,
And shout



This is a poem about Brittany
Sometimes I wonder if that's her real name
Although Brittany certainly is Brittany's name

I want to hold her hand in church
I want to skip along the fields behind the High School with her
Where the boys and I smoke pot and throw a frisbee
To forget about that fucking god damn loneliness
I want her to cure that fucking god damn loneliness
Brittany I don't think we need the drama
I don't mind if you voted for Obama

She is young and I am so old
Her heart is warm my back is cold
Where she muscles I tend to fold
She is a genius
While I put myself in stupid places

But I know all the right people
I play all the right games
And I think Jesus has a crush on me
Cos he keeps lifting me up
I want to lift you up with me

Sometimes the hand you hold
Is the hand that holds you down
Here is the soul food that I owe you
So you can take it to town

And isn't it ironic to turn on the TV
Talking heads claim that money is the root of all evil
They have never been poor
They have never tried to buy Brittany a pearl necklace
With the nickels they keep in their shoes

So Brittany I may not have money
Or a fresh set of lungs
My clothes may be dirty
But Bob says my hands are clean

Father above take me aback
Jesus Christ Lord and Savior take me above
I have risen smitten and fallen in love
And her God Damn name is Brittany

Brittany, they can't hurt you unless you let them
They can't hurt you unless you let them
They can't hurt you unless you let them
They can't hurt you unless you let them
And Brittany... when you need me I'll be there

I swear on my Father's grave and my son's life

Up around the Panhandle
Somewhere near Oklahoma
I'll start making promises
Of all the things I'm gonna

There's a place up there called Timmy's
Where they play guitar too loud
Little people drinking whiskey
And their big dreams make them proud

I took a seat and grabbed myself a drink
I saw you leanin' on a memory
With your back turned to the crowd
Will you turn around and see me
And if you do what will I say
Can I convince you to believe
That we'll fly above the trees

All the way from Beaumont
With a white rose in my hand
I walked the roads to get here
I just had to see you but I did not have a plan

But now I'm tired of not being seen
And I'm old enough to cry
I'm smart enough to understand
You do not need to lie

All the way from Beaumont
With a white rose in my hand
I can not wait forever, baby
I hope you understand

Singing songs about the ocean
We can hear the ocean roar
4 year old girls and their mothers
Strewn across the floor

Up around the panhandle
Near the Oklahoma border
There's a princess that I'm waiting for
And I'm knocking on her door

All the way from Beaumont
With a white rose in my hand
I love you with all of my heart
And I'll do anything I can

All the way from Beaumont
With a white rose in my hand
I love you with all my heart
And I'll do the best I can

Soul beats and soul men
Keep they souls to the floor
Keep they ears to the vine
And they doin' fine

Now God's rain water flows through the same gutter that we
Walk today - Gotta stay brave brother
Keep your lip stiff
Keep your fist clenched
At times you gotta kick your way through this bitch

When you ain't good for nothing but writing
And on writing - they ain't but bad showtunes
And all the joy I've ever known has gone
And it's wrong
It's a soul song
At times I feel like my life's too long

And I ain't good for nothing but creating children
That I can't feed
That I can't support
But he's my son - my son - my son
So predators should re-assess who they messin' with
Cos I got a reason to live
I got a son to keep alive

Now God's rain water flows through the same gutter that we
Walk today - Gotta stay brave brother
Keep your lip stiff
Keep your fist clenched
At times you gotta kick your way through this bitch

Whoa oh oh
Jeremy
She loves you
But it ain't free

Her face is cracked from smiling
All the tears that she's been hiding
Cos it seems that pretty soon
Everyone is gonna know

This one's gonna be for you, Princess
Long blonde hair and a turquoise dress
Can't help herself - she gonna smile wide
She gonna flash 'em eyes - she won't hide

Now this one's for you, Sweetheart
Bobby pins and hand length denim
Summer in the air from your hair and the trips
Skinned up knees and salty lips

This last one goes out to the last clout
Who when I lay in bed and shout
Am left alone and without
She can't be here when she's there when she don't care

I am myself
I'm not dead
I'm not for sale
Hold me closer
Just let me be