sp (a) ce

pushin

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 11:11:00 +0000

80
hope to outlive
amber waves
undulating from clockwork
mechanisms not bound
to organic processes

and fluid displacement,
bile production
muscle contractions
souring taste buds
spots that have nothin,
nothing to do with liver

pulsing on timers
whirred and clicked
into motion based on
weight sensors and
magnetic rendezvous
with metallic salt rusted cadavers

maybe before the dead-line
beat of red flashes and sticks
to your wheels to
cell reproduction
maybe just pushin 80
i could sneak by

tail pipe snapshots only a blurr

metaprose at 23

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 08:17:00 +0000

I wrote this finally for
myself
- as in the self that needs
to have
convos

about nothing
going
somewhere - but in your head

ya'know?

'fore you forgot
it was always about
public confessionals

&

the art of looking
artistic
under microscopes
given out for free (so, so free)
at your first
spoken word ..jam..

and -
it might as well have been a literal, edible, delectable, empirical, jam

a stream of consciousness
into ...............time
.......................time
...........................time.time.time.
(use up it's meaning)
and/or
ry, ry,ry.....th, um?

thatfitsbetweentwowallsin
awayfrommicrophonesto
eardrumswewishwecould
awrittenitfirst

saying in seconds what
it took 23 years to brew

restraint

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Wed, 13 Dec 2006 07:28:00 +0000

under bedroom canvas

Taught like the shear
Whining wires of guitar
Pluck (ed) in motion for response
In re(verb)eration

Rumbling through catacombs
Of thought about sound
He was rushed to answer his own
queries
Of morality

In cast spaces lined of ancient
Scar – ridden vesicles
Slowly to carry like
A mule in desert
Without water, without
A smile

Lacerations tempt a thinly shadowed moon
From protesting
Marked graves in a vast corridor of dusk

Slowly to tear thin membranes
Tear think tanks from crowded rooms
Tear a hundred soapboxes
From under

Consistent characters pace the scene
Line call
Line call asshole
If only a sermon had been prepared
And he didn’t have to improvise

With God’s WORD

Restraint from tearing

like a tear duct let loose in dim
alleyway cats lick it softly
like water but with milky sweetness
“these aren’t like tears” she said
"you changed the beat of your heart” he replied

You
from mind

Here ye, Here ye

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Sat, 25 Nov 2006 07:20:00 +0000

Hey all, as if any actually checks this site out anymore. well, anyways if someone happens upon it,
i thought i would throw up the link to my myspace, cause ive loaded some of my acoustic noise thurrr. Thats about it. Enjoy. And dont eat meatballs, cause once someone found a fingernail in one, a cow fingernail.
.jesse.

fire blur

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Sat, 28 Oct 2006 01:56:00 +0000

fire blur
Originally uploaded by jhabes.

UNBC1

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Fri, 27 Oct 2006 04:26:00 +0000

UNBC1
Originally uploaded by jhabes.

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Wed, 18 Oct 2006 08:49:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Tue, 17 Oct 2006 04:28:00 +0000

cyclic recycle re_____

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Mon, 25 Sep 2006 23:23:00 +0000

when it first started to rain
i ran outside
tongue tense from
over-extension
waiting for the first drop
i pranced like i was 7

maybe i was

so when one liquid capsule
burst throughout
thousands of buds
taught and expectant
i only tasted
acidic tension

the distant smokestack
drew back as though
called off curtain
smug and content
the rumbling belly of industry
joined in where the
rivers connect
and give their offerings
to the clouds

orange is the color of the darkest hour

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Mon, 25 Sep 2006 07:03:00 +0000

what i couldnt tell
you in person
i paid someones little brother
to carve into a jack-o-lantern
smoothly chiseled
i let go of a few dollars
and got her to place
it on your porch
ribbon in hair she looked
both ways before crossing
streets that intersect
between you and i
it was perfect
until some kids came
and smashed jack's face in

leaving carts and loving life

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Mon, 25 Sep 2006 06:03:00 +0000

racing through (out)
corridors rich with warmth
sweet snacks delite (full)
i could have sniffed you out
cinnamon and chicken
soup isle 14
(where did all the children go)
instead i paced the halls
leading to and from you
alternating efficientcy
egg nog is on the shelves again
i knew id find you there

boys night out

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Thu, 24 Aug 2006 21:12:00 +0000

when i couldn't find a home
i crawled into a cigarette butt
but a roach kicked me out
so i slept in the rain

River Blu

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Thu, 24 Aug 2006 20:55:00 +0000

deep from sleep
awake still one foot
over the threshold into
mind-made madness
scrambling for pen paper ink rustling pen pen
no paper
the creases of hands help grip
to write in the creases of hands
words that spell universe
and flower and shit and gardenhose
running through the ink into flesh
stilled and settling
by vibratory resonance
by a heart beating
and slumped and sleeping
the words in their games of play
frolicking towards another
uniting in poetic prose
(ring around the rosie)
and satanic verse
(hands clasped)
prayer
(with childhood decadence)
apologies
(some without meaning)
makeshift amendments
( )

ink runnning
so that when sun
ignited conciousness
this sleeping epiphany
ran together
the creases of hands
that can write into the creases of hands
blue ink in rivers
wordless following
secret
subterrainean veins

August Fall

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Thu, 24 Aug 2006 04:25:00 +0000

soft crunches brittle leaves

stain streets, curbs

collected dirty laundry

wastebasket overflow

trickle down

each inscribed

a tale hung

hugging exotic grasses

upon great heights –

weaved among

hair

things

be regurgitated upon

or picked pressed stamped

into infinite memories

mulched

churned bloodstreams

condensed rebirth amongst

plastics and rot and plastics

that never rot

mulch into soil for seeds

carrying time

to emerge from grasses

pushing past brittle leaves

for your viewing pleasure...

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Tue, 15 Aug 2006 04:38:00 +0000

www.peta2.com
- check this out....mixes some of my favorite things....music and activism

Why i drink myself to sleep

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Fri, 04 Aug 2006 05:37:00 +0000

watching the news today
i learnd culture
exciting research has shown
(funded by American Media Corps.)
that:
unlike their israeli opponents

palestinian(s) do not have children

nor do they understand compassion
fear reason
lust joy hope or dream
i learnd
america knows how to pick its allies

Currently...

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Wed, 29 Mar 2006 22:33:00 +0000

Okay, so i havn't really felt poetry lately. so i started drawing webcomics.
im not gonna gaurentee they're funny, but you can check em out if ya want anyways.
http://the-simplethings.blogspot.com/
peace
jesse

education

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Tue, 28 Feb 2006 07:02:00 +0000

i.
rubbing this dying
(-----)bird(-----)
i wished for
genies
who could sell me
a complete set (trading cards)
of imaginary
realities
ii.
from con(fess)ions
in hospital beds
with sticky fingers
and animal-ian parasites
doctors nod
in disapproval
iii.
(---)birds(---)
were a bad idea
just look at the name
foul—fowl—foul
like broken wings

routine (interrupted)

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Tue, 28 Feb 2006 06:33:00 +0000

ringing telephones
start clichéd
poems I thought
until I was sitting here
drinking (bavarian brew)
listening to my favorite
song
and when it ended
the answering machine
played my fake voice
for you

(leave a message)

dear poem....

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Tue, 28 Feb 2006 06:13:00 +0000

i wrote you from Indifference
in a truckstop
where I woulda got my ass beat
if anyone knew I was literate
so i wrote in tomato paste
and sugar water
like I was spelling
out french-fry ransom demands
and ive been living here
ever since

while you were wishing i was dead

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Tue, 28 Feb 2006 06:05:00 +0000

I ran at tattered wall(s)
pray(ing) I could move (world)
but (i) didn’t
I fell inside ( )
and my fairy godmother
basted then roasted me alive

IM (instant messenger)

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Mon, 27 Feb 2006 03:45:00 +0000

“//I tried to tell you
     \\> (I don’t love you anymore) <// *bashful*
but my computer froze

     _     _     _

so I forgot---
     and now I don’t (kiss) you *wink*

any@differently.com”

Salva(Ic)

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Fri, 24 Feb 2006 09:56:00 +0000

in the cold
I folded the
makeshift skin
btween left forefinger and/
pinky (absent of color)
until a small tent
erected bone(ified)
support
to house
flesh dwelling
tenants

cradle

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Sun, 19 Feb 2006 05:45:00 +0000

spent nights

in hollowed corners

from outside worlds

counting woven afghan rings

tallying breaths

marked by words dribbling

from each kiss

holding back from

seeing you

(into) fine hair

lashes skin

through tangibility

into each package of (the) possible

not (small) like valentines chocolates

a crate, or coffin holding

endless thoughts

of ends and beginnings

continuing or

stalling for that one last

youth

noreply@blogger.com (jhabes) — Fri, 10 Feb 2006 04:16:00 +0000

i heard happiness (taste)d saltine crackers

so you crumbled them up

placed them in (my) pocket

and decided to save (a few)