What does it mean,
to give to yourself?
Why is it so meaningless,
Without another face?

A defense against death,
The gifts you give,
Of posessions,
Of yourself,
Of love,
Are memories,
In another mind,
Written on failing parchment,
In disappearing ink.

You are immortal now,
And how do things change?
Immortality is yet another death,
After the stars grow cold,
You still remain,
Memories of you,
Trapped eternal,
Inside your own mind.

What is this, life?
Why are we offered hope,
False and unrepentant.
In the end, what is this,
This life?

Perhaps that is the problem,
“in the end”,
Because the end… isn’t,
The now,
Right now,
Is the end,
That justifies the means.

Time is not an arrow,
Straight and narrow,
Time is the very now,
This lingering instant,
Time is the distance,
Between the you who are you,
And the you who are me.

Live right now,
Today,
Live this one moment,
As if it were your last.
Because this one moment,
Is all you ever were,
And all you ever will be,
And all you’ll ever have.

I love your temper.
You terrify me,
You thrill me,
Your passion; inferno.

I love your temper.
When you stormed out,
you waited for me,
across the street.
You knew I would follow.
You knew what I would do.

Your anger;
blast the world to ash,
the ground trembles,
ember firefles kiss the sky.
I love your temper.

I will ever follow,
Passion in delight,
Passion in rage,
Dangerous power,
Between you and me,
A match made in heaven,
I love your temper.

You captivate me,
Friction between us,
Heat flowing in waves,
Kiss me in the sparklight.
Kiss me through your rage.
I love your temper.
I love your passion.
I love you.

Wish you were here…

The beatings from fellow passengers and years of torture in Guantanamo will be tough, but the look on your neighbor’s face is going to be priceless!

If you are a super hero, and are interested in finding a new villain to fill your time with, I think I will prove to be quite the catch. I’m despicably evil while at the same time possessing a semblance of honor which may tempt you to try fruitlessly to convert me to the call of goodness.

You will spend many an evening perched on rooftops, wandering the depths of treacherous ice caves, and stumbling into secret laboratories on forbidden islands while you slowly piece together my tragic past and learn the true nature of my cruelty and possibly the secret to my redemption.

Costumes and secret identities a plus, but not absolutely required.

And the prince lived happily ever after!

STAND UP for the rights of people, human or not, and make your voice heard.

There is a jew, an asian, and a black guy on a plane. They discuss their struggles with prejudice.

A horse walks into a bar. Why the long face the barman asks? My brother just died of cancer replied the horse.

An elephant gets onto a bus. The bus driver is frightened and calls animal control.

A priest, a rabbi and an imam walk into a restaurant. The sit down at a table in the corner and have an engaging theological discussion which compares and contrasts their beliefs.

A dog walks into a bar and orders a drink. The bartender realizes how silly this is, and wakes up from his dream. He rolls over and tells his wife about it, who ignores him. He begins to silently cry, knowing that his marriage is a lie and his life is falling into shambles.

Leavenworth sticks up like a rusty nail when you do the math. I’ve always suspected as much, but I never felt comfortable saying it, but Leavenworth is completely wrong. It simply doesn’t belong between Hyde and Jones. Considering how completely it lengthens the overall walking distance, I suspect that it is a deviant SOMA street that somehow snuck it’s way across Market. I will go back and check in the archives to be sure, but the math simply does not lie.

It’s official: Leavenworth must go!

[Note: Funded by the Hyde Street Urban Shortification Committee]

I feel like…

I’M BATMAN!

Now with moisturizes MADE BY FUCKING SCIENCE!

FUCK YEAH!

I fully support any profession that requires costumes (particularly capes, but I have a feeling that the cloaked hitman isn’t really a long-term career path outside of the super villain field). I think my only suitable underworld job would be driver of the getaway computer. I’m not really sure how much future there is in that, but until my next paycheck, I’m willing to explore options…

Corpses!!  HUNDREDS of corpses….

Here’s one right in front of my new home:

Horribly mutilated tree corpses, littering the sidewalks like ribbons on the floor the day after Christmas.  Some of these grizzly murders are even decorated in some sick, twisted vision of tree beauty.

This serial killer clearly has a message to send to trees: Trees not welcome in San Francisco.   I don’t know who this mad man is, but he must be supremely confident and methodical in his horrific crimes to so casually dump these bodies in plain view.  Whoever he is, I have a message for him:

You will be found.

You will be brought to justice.

[If you have any information regarding the person or people behind these terrible events, please contact your local authorities or media outlet right away.  We need your help to bring justice to these poor, helpless victims.]

White space melts away,
Black lines fade to gray,

A codex written,
A cipher decoded,
Between the thoughts of you,
And the thoughts of me,

The elegant branches of your mind,
The beauty of your words,
Woven into the tragedy mine…

Merge.

Commit.

[Ed Note: This poem is about software.]

Make your choice:

• Fold them with crisp corners and store them right away.
• Roll around in them like a cat. Fuck wrinkles.

[Ed Note: To those who chose the second answer: I like you. ]

Every second slips by as hours pass,
each thought a bolt of lightning,
flashing bright against the glacier,
of the trembling, ticking clock.

I must rise.
I must rise, and unify the forces,
and tear my mind from it’s staccato pace,
or unbend the slow twists in space.

This drop of blood,
of water,
of hope… not yet fallen,
the tension building,
gravity clawing wildly at the slowly bulging curve,
at the pregnant inevitable,
waiting in desperation,

For this body,
for this face,
for this image.

Glad you could make it.

We’ve got a pretty amazing year here.

Come on in and make yourself at home.