Soapbox Artist – Page 54 – screaming at low volumes

Wednesday Night.

October 6, 2006 by jgtaylor

Tell me about the places That I will never go; Tell me about the faces That I will never know. Tell me of the loves lost To tradition and ceremony; Of seafarers tossed Into plans for hegemony. Send me backwards, reeling From your deeper insights; Excite my raw feelings With your tender insides. Drag me … Read moreWednesday Night.

The Way It Is

September 20, 2006 by jgtaylor

We sat in perfect proportions like an entree with two sides. I’ve always loved green beans – A few drinks A little reefer Spiraling into the desire… one says, “Why don’t you ever try and get me in bed?” We keep on drinking until there are four of them. The other asks, “Is this all … Read moreThe Way It Is

letters to forgotten dead people

September 14, 2006 by jgtaylor

Dear Jim,
I know when you died, I promised to write you a lot. I haven’t. But you know that. Apologies are pointless, so, I’ll just get to it. I can’t remember the last time I wrote you, so I will just start from wherever … I’m in DC now. I’ve been here about 2 years. I suppose I came for a job, but really to find something more important. I’m still not sure what it is, but I suppose it will all clear up as this movie unfolds. This weekend was like few others … Bar / Club hopping on Friday night with Dave and some Boy Candy who got us in to the I Bar for free (and me with my sneakers!). The guy at the door gave me a future reference point that sneakers weren’t normally allowed, but he gave me props on matching my nice suede blue pumas to my blue button down, untucked. What a style monster I am. Jim, if it weren’t for the failures I keep repeating, I swear you’d be proud.

thinking of zen

August 31, 2006 by jgtaylor

find out just what you don’t need. put it on sale and buy 10 of them. say it was worth saving the money. pick out a small dark spot that is scary. send your children in to it without light. tell them it was an effort towards freedom. take a nail and pound it through … Read morethinking of zen

The English Lass

August 30, 2006 by jgtaylor

is it the end, just yet? or are we waiting for it to start. it’s so confusing sometimes trying to understand our heart. it has not been a life time of souls separated by life but there’s a pull of the life line from a core of drum and fife. will I cook? will you … Read moreThe English Lass

Hard to say

August 23, 2006 by jgtaylor

OK – here it is. I’m torn about releasing this one. It doesn’t really have a title, per se, but it’s been called “Amerika”, “3 Thousand mile Love”, “God damn piece of shit”, and others. Either way, I wrote it in January, 2004 over the course of about 5 very sleepless days. Of the 6 public readings this poem has had, the introduction that was closest to the truth was, “I slit my wrists and bled out onto the page.” Of all the poems that have kept me up, this one was the worst. I don’t think I can convey just how personal this poem is to me. Everytime I read it, I well up with tears and choke on my words. When I’ve read it publicly, it always comes with a lot more pauses than I’ve written into it. It is with great reluctance, but even more promises to share it, that I post it now.
It came from an argument I got into in front of a coffee shop with … well, let’s just say that they weren’t the best debaters. It ended with them saying, “This is America – love it or leave it!”

Propaganda Dreams I

August 23, 2006 by jgtaylor

I’ve been dying for the Propaganda Dream They put it in motion – I don’t know when Make me want freedom, and all that. But something went awry – The Propaganda Dream can’t hold up to lies. Oh, the dream was good – Freedom, Equality With Capital F’s and E’s and no one gets on … Read morePropaganda Dreams I

Propaganda Dreams II

August 23, 2006 by jgtaylor

P r o p a g a n d a D r e a m. Propagandi zing D.i.m. Propaganda props. Dreams Of Proper Ga ng in g. dream. proper. Gain. Gain Dreams. Dream Power pro painGanda. Goal.

Love Letter

August 17, 2006 by jgtaylor

I want for you and me to dance like school children at play; to know the bottom is between two upswings. I want the ropes under our feet, off of our hands I want to be free from these adult conspiracies with sticks that hurt too much. I want to hop through squares in arbitrary … Read moreLove Letter

Cardinals

August 3, 2006 by jgtaylor

There is now a set of love birds in the tree behind my apt. A red Cardinal and his fine lover chirp to me as I hang out and smoke cigarettes in the blistering heat. Occasionally, they hop down and hang out with me. If I’m watering the ivy or the daisies, they hang out on the fence under their tree and commiserate on neighborly things.