gaucho cup winner from history

return to civilization...

whatever.

flight evades me
fright however
pervades my daily life
live my creed
or so I say
read the words everyday.
I lost the thoughts
that brought me here.
in daily life
fear compels me
helps me see
I let it go
in my dreams anyway.

Oh, to be a member of that grand party; an invited guest at the
least, how I would beam in splendor. To be carried about on the
shoulders of the wicked and the cursed, bathed in the shining light of
the true God, where none other than the almighty himself would presume
to pass judgment. The freedom that such a status would allow, the
heights of depravity that could go unpunished in the mortal world, seem
unattainable.
I can only dream.
I can act towards acceptance, I can show myself worthy, and I
can let no person stand in my way. Only my own worries sully my
supplication, my own trepidations keep my mind clouded. I cannot judge
myself; I can only believe my actions pure, my thoughts focused, and my
heart full with righteous energy. When faced with difficult decisions,
I must not impose morals, ethics, beliefs, or laws to the outcome. I
must rid myself of such fetters, I must remove the remaining barriers to
clear thought, and I must not stop until all of you are dead.
Do not think I only rant and rave; do not think I am not honest
or capable. Make not the mistake of believing you can turn me, find the
good in me, for I am the essence of good, I am pure beyond measure, I am
the hand of god, and I will not be judged by the masses, the mortals,
the sheep who impose their doctrine in the name of our father. If I
must purge this realm of such men to prove my worth, I will do so with
fervor.
Perhaps, if I act purely, I will gain acceptance, and I too will
sup with the master of time, the father of all worlds, the King of all
living and dead, the all-knowing grand emperor of being. Perhaps it is
I who will stand before him, face his judgment, and be taken into him.
Oh, the thought of it makes my body numb, my mind dance, my heart
bloody. It must start now, it must begin now, I must rid my mind of
thoughts that anchor it to the perversity of law and order.
Prepare yourselves for death, for I shall not tarry.

Been gone
Down some road
Never going back
Regret to inform me
You can never go back
Told myself
Never go back
Break that promise
Embrace what's past
Never go back
Embrace what's past.

A cramped office cubicle. JOE sits hunched over a keyboard furiously typing. SUPERVISOR appears over his shoulder:

SUPERVISOR: Hey Einstein. You got a minute?

JOE: Uh… yeah.

JOE and SUPERVISOR walk a tedious, labyrinthine path through an expanse of cubicles, coffee pots, and fake plants. SUPERVISOR stops in front of a closed door, opens it, and turns to JOE:

SUPERVISOR: After you.

JOE and SUPERVISOR enter into what at first looks like a closet, but as the light turns on it becomes a massive room filled with boxes, and other large items. The only apparent area of the floor visible is a small entry near the door. SUPERVISOR, without looking at JOE, turns on the light:

SUPERVISOR: Einstein, do you know what’s in this room?

JOE: This is where we dump the body when someone quits.

SUPERVISOR reacts with surprise, not the type of surprise when someone is shocked, but the type of surprise when someone knows too much…

SUPERVISOR: Well, not exactly....Joe... (Long pause)... This is where dump their families before they quit.

JOE: Fuck you. (JOE turns to leave) Jackass.

JOE is stopped by SUPERVISOR’s strong grip on his shoulder.

SUPERVISOR: This is your new office Einstein, you ungrateful fuck. Have a good afternoon. (He leaves).

JOE stands for a moment by the door. Eventually he reaches for the handle, but stops as he hears the BEEP of a computer booting up from somewhere in the room behind him. JOE listens intently. He again turns to leave, but stops.

JOE: Fuck it.

JOE begins to climb over the boxes, old office furniture, bodies wrapped in plastic bags, decades old computers, and other office detritus that fills this unending room. After several minutes climbing and crawling, he suddenly falls into a small space on the floor, barely large enough for a desk and chair. On the desk is a computer, waiting for someone to log in and begin work.

JOE: At least I won’t have to look at their faces anymore. (He sits down and begins typing furiously)

Several moments pass as JOE becomes visibly agitated. Finally, without saying anything, he stands up, rips his monitor from the desk, and throws it into the shadowy reaches of his closet/office. He watches disappear into the distance, then sits down.

JOE: Well, shit.

Release the sounds of fame from the panes which surround the clamors
heard plain.
Select small numbers, expounded often, in groups freed less than common.
Have a heart for small men, wounded men, the bleeding men seen suffering
slumped and draining, for they will return to you in numbers, in kind or
flaming.
Protect your faith from fanatics, unflappable in siphoning until
falling.
Wound yourself, fool yourself, whether withered or wondrous; wind
yourself in happenstance and happy delusion.
Manage the day to day voices inside yourself; keep the din from building
and blasting and breaking yourself.
Let no one other than those respected judge actions taken by you,
thoughts held by you, emotions expressed by you, or that which defines
the center of you.
Pass on factoring the worth of placated princes of putrid masses
meandering among the days lived by you, ignore ignorance among the herds
not avoided, musings muttered baseless, righteous and indignant.

The 2007 Fickeisen Holiday Poem Collection

Rain o' wet rain
wish that you were white
semi-solid
frozen
as the climate warms
the white diminishes
santa's face, palid
as he considers
a pontoon boat with eight killer whales.


As I look upon
pot roast
fresh rolled pasta
cookies rolled by hand
and parmesan with fingernails
I only wonder what dishes
lie beyond
my curious eye
wrapped in bacon
greenery steamed
grains pounded
such wondrous delights
only serve to confound
one such as I
culinarily confused.


Festivus, o' Festivus
how lovely is your metal pole
unadorned with accoutrements
lift the weight from my soul.

lame

what can i say?
i was going to go on about lacking access to the internet, but i decided against it.
perhaps another day, when said access is returned.

until then, goodbye.

Classify
Horrified replacement
Parts partly
Placed placards
Results pending
Placated reformed wondering
Employee
Radicals fled
Embellish storied action
Dislike
Whatever negated
A desire to succeed
Listen to me when I tell you.

Invasion
Discomfort resulting
Panic
Not dissuaded
Pressed on
Classified results pending
Procedures consulting
Unpredictable outcomes
Presented possibilities
Heretofore not considered
Calm seas wash on this shore
Lettered men found wanting
I find resilience encountered before
Worse things endured
Find peace in this chair.

Pretend placement
After the show
We go from blow to blow
Interrupting fights
With individual plights
Look out for yourself
This world cares not
For your supposed insights
Walk away from
Dark sided alley lurking fiends
Preying on weak minds
Let emotion run amok
Flagging lettered men
Driving blind luck
Let not rest take hold
Vigilance remains
Against evil
And all it stains.

old news

things seem to be slowly moving along here these days...

Kramer brought in a rabbit he hunted down.

I made brownies.

Preparations for the apocalypse continue at an exceptionally slow pace.

I have moved on
better things
crisis of stasis
let this
recorded matter
be one better
one line
matters more
belated attempts sit behind me
zeal is less than
unknown
such difficulty
once heralded
welcomed
embraced
now banished
these strikes against me
summon fearless anger
go out and do
forget what ails
strike faster
with intense fury
manifest emotion
in this way
bleed off
let no person avail you.

More than once I’ve been here; more times than some imagine might be possible, sitting in a dark corner, twirling empty bottles, staring. Please, some thought come, some reason to act. I need to act, repeated in my head over dreams of repetition. I look out into smoky darkness willing myself to care about something enough. Across a room, movement catches my eye, a conversation intense enough to draw me into the motion of it; swinging arms, bobbing heads, crossing legs. It’s the fantasy, I see. The dreaming drives us. To achieve something only removes the pleasure; getting what we want is not what we want.

Don’t let this fool you, trick you, make you think I have a plan. I’ve sat here so many times before, so many times before. I’ve wondered at it over and over again; I’ve wondered at it. I’ve looked so many times into the shallow depths, considered oh so few possibilities, until I hit on this one. Before you resides, in some form or other, the work you now so tokenly peruse at your leisure’s leisure. Your problem, you see, is that you think this has value, you think I have something to say, and now you know I’m like every other. If I say I have nothing to say, them surely I must have something to say, and if I admit in truly have nothing, then perhaps there is something. And by some miracle, maybe that something is truly worth saying, truly worth repeating, truly inspiring, insightful, thoughtful, moving, passionate, creative, worthy, perceptive, discerning, aware, and possibly even fruitful. I can always hope, and always hope for the future. I see someone sometime unearthing this ancient text, looking towards the sun for an idea to its meaning. Believe me when I tell you, I can do this, I can never do this, I can’t do this, I can’t never do this, I believe I can do this.

Maybe some concerned citizen will see this as dangerous.

09.21.06

leave me alone
leave this altogether
bring back
whatever looks
nicely done within the confines
of the task
laid before you
look back
wonder
where did things go right
when did I become this
he who stands before himself
blurring the distinction
man and what
who are we you might ask
a shake of the head
do not
look so sad laden with unseen
emotions laid out
for the coming day
ordered for maximization
break off the bead
fling strings across rooms
bring it back
to this
leave me not alone.

is there anybody in here?
i've been waiting for over a month now. 5 weeks and 3 days to be exact.
let me out.
i can't take it anymore.
the need for speed, access, information....
ceaseless
never do that again.
really, i couldn't be more adamant in this.
leave me isolated that long again and bad things will happen.

oh for fucks sake
time passes faster than i can
begin to think about
a manner worth relating
think on this sir
place several jarring details
for all to see
let suckers be suckers
dispense with any and all
pleasantries before entering my house
i could lay some laws down
if it would make you feel better
i think leaving that out would
what
be better i suppose
flow cascading ritual words
upon page screen board
lecture me more.