Friday, November 27, 2009

(Sorry, Arlon, but) This One's Not for You

this wary wood birch/ won't bloom until the spring/ and all its leaves have yet to fall/ you and i/ we still have time to get our coats/ and pick the remnants from their roots/ i will rake them/ bundle them up and take them/ to their new abode/ in the middle of the road

what life is changing here?/ purge the water, dear/ purify my colored mind/ with fallen leaves and stagnant fears/ my only hope is holding onto something real/ but no verity is clear/ at least not here

if you're afraid to love me/ then i'll save you from fear itself/ the unknown truth can't stop me now/ step upon me/ grind my soul beneath your soles/ a million steps can't keep me down/ or plant me in the ground/ without me growing/ into a brand new birch/ with outstretched branches/ for your lances to perch

breathe in and break my lungs/ take our pictures down/ my photograph looks so much better shattered on the ground/ my only hope is holding onto something real/ but i can't feel/ i can't feel!

im heading straight for a breakdown/ i won't be home by nine/ im heading straight out/ so break me down/ because i won't stop trying/ until you're done hiding/ i won't stop trying until you smile

- Alex McCurdy

Thursday, November 26, 2009

you are not the grout that fills me

im not exchanging gifts this year/or balancing any checks/ im at close range with a lift/ i fear my life is a wreck/and much like my check book/ i am unstable/ and unable to get back in check/ so check back in the morning/ if im in the same spot/ give me the push i need/ to move my tush off the floor/ and out the backdoor/ and onto the deck/ and over the rail/ so when i hit the rocky bottom/ it won't look like rock bottom/ only that i fell/ but really/ i FAILED!

- afm

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Scenes We Have Seen from the Silver Screen (complete)

The box awaits a single slate of procreated metaphors depicting when its only friend was locked outside the EXIT door. Swing faster and faster until this disaster is plastered onto the silver screen. The silver line is redefined as I blindly scribble the words you dribbled from Sibyl's prophetic, oracular schemes.

Pull the trigger, girl, but keep the safety on. Get used to the feeling of never getting what you want. 

The box abates from its berated, congregated hosted uproar inflicting them with oxygen - an overdose for the final score. Spill cancerous cancer - defiled enhancers - on dancers dancing through the last scene. The last fight reignites the lightning from the springs of Juturna, so what has Sibyl truly seen?!

Pull the trigger, girl, but keep the safety on. Get used to the feeling of never getting what you want. 

Pins and needles rest on the countertop. Pull the trigger, girl. Keep your pointer on the stop. The rise, the fall. You take it all and move into the liquor shop, but they won't sell you sweets in there, just, "Sweetie, how you doing? Would you like it if I top it off?"

Pull the trigger, girl, but keep the safety on. Get used to the feeling of never getting what you want. 

- Alexander McCurdy

Saturday, November 21, 2009

The Land is Silent, the Hand is Violent (complete)

i'll take you by the river/ we can swim in it/ i'll teach you how to dive/ you can even reach bottom/ im skipping stones and skipping days of work/ but i swear having you is a job itself/ you're gripping sleeves, but slipping off and out to sea/ so if i were you and you were me, you'd be better off/ someone is speaking/ but i can't hear a thing/ someone is drinking/ sinking down to the bottom/ my dearest friend, i think i found a better home/ but if home is/ where the heart is then no wonder im alone/ unlike you and your dripping eyelids, i choose to be on my own/ so sit here until the fishes teach you how to roam/ someone is speaking/ but i can't hear a thing/ someone is drinking/ sinking down to the bottom/ i'll take you by the river/ we can swim in it/ i'll teach you how to dive/ you can even reach bottom

- Alex McCurdy

Thursday, November 19, 2009



put it on your ijunks :)

- afm

Saturday, November 14, 2009

The Alex Show - Episode 19

close your eyes and tell me, how many fingers am i holding up? two. one for me and one for you. the last two fingers have consisted of the following:
  • potato salad. actual potatoes in lettuce with mixed vegetables and a bitter balsamic
  • the confrontational roach. he glares, but he paralyzes nothing. also, he has perished... and by perished, i mean that he never should have scampered about my leg. i have a deadly scratch attack
  • the office. i am not jim halpert! i am not jim halpert! i am not jim halpert! i am not jim halpert! i am not jim halpert! i am not jim halpert! i am not jim halpert! i am not jim halpert...
  • being jim halpert. in reality, that kind of witty banter is only tolerable for a good twenty minutes or so. if you continue any further, you're no better than the world's best boss
  • sasafras. i traveled to Africa, Australia (twice), PA, and Boring Land
  • Africa. they serve outstanding coffee here. strong and cheap. nothing like that one mermaid who has been making big bucks by selling stars
  • AUStralia 1. only in my dreams. if we were in Nice, then i wish i was a stone. at least then i would have a chance
  • AUStralia 2. catch up time only to find surprise after surprise (without any expression). no hmmm-ing involved
  • PA. ... is Gay
  • Boring Land. you woke up early on a Saturday morning to open up shop while still snoring. If there be something more then quit living in Bore!
  • Home. if my heart is here then it is no wonder that I am a bum
  • Waltman. "Fuck you so much!"
plenty more fell between the cracks, but i don't plan on getting them back. AUS1 also helped me realize that my world is still spinning, but i am no longer dizzy. in conclusion, there is no word from the south.

- Alex McCurdy

Sunday, November 8, 2009

No Turkey Sandwich for Sleeping Babies!

twenty years ago/ you were on the set/ looking good in your white jacket/ telling all your friends/ at least the two you had/ that you were happy for a second/ speed up the sideshow/ so everybody knows/ that your smile was just an act/ a mere accessory/ to hide that misery/ that you stabbed behind your back... long ago

sixteen years ago/ you gave up your throne/ your crown was made of smooth plastic/ you put the kids to bed/ at least the two you had/ held their hands like a father, monastic/ hush, don't say word/ moving will be deterred/ cuz every movement you make is drastic/ "goodnight, pleasant dreams/ love with all my heart"/ whiskers on my cheek from your chin... long ago

on the TV screen they are playing a brief segment of what i was trying/ not to see/ not to see/ yet i enjoyed the distraction/ cuz every abstraction took me/ further from where i wanted to be/ i enjoyed the distraction/ cuz every abstraction took me/ took me, took me, took me!

if you don't speak then i will rest assured/ when my thumbs are numb and my speech is slurred/ if you can't sink into the ground tonight/ then i was never wrong and you were never right

- Alexander McCurdy

Thursday, November 5, 2009

"The Alex Show" Update

I couldn't become more self-involved if I tried.


- afm

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

The Alex Show - Episode 18

how can i connect my ideas about thoughtless webs spinning crisscross patterns in my toss'd head? the silky layers spread and reflect like lanterns against mirrored ground all across the membranous town - guiding my feet, forcing them to leap nineteen steps at a time until they fall out of line and out of sync with the thoughts i presumably think. or thought. please understand that the effort to articulate could easily be made if i could simply create, but no thanks to apollo, i have swallowed every slate which once enabled me to sketch or sculpt or paint. now the daintiest of rhymes resemble the faintest of times when my following of readers once considered me a saint. my mouth wears a restraint to hold these thoughts in place in case my internal chatter starts to eternally splatter throughout the web my spider spun. now these run-on sentences can no longer run when their legs are not eight, but fewer than one. the meaning behind the lie is: demeaning refined replies of any time my crooked mind had tried to spit the spider out like the spout full of rain.

ASIDE: but what if my brain is dry?

what if my mind is a drought of good thinking? then why am i sinking if the water is shrinking? one cannot sink in a deep-seated drought no more than a mute can sing or shout. i am no mute, however, so i shout to the spider to flee from my skull, but he is too clever, so deeper he crawls until my thoughts are not thinking of anything at all except what they will catch or what they'll enthrall, but not to absorb, only to survive, so the lessons i learn will not be contrived or devised in the least, instead they will spin like a web from the mouth of spidery twin who looks much like myself but bears nothing within. he just wears my skin and an unsettling grin. flash flash flash spin spin spin hello, alex. let us begin.

- Alexander McCurdy

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

btdkyd (imrpovised)

i hear the call/ ring in my deafened ear/ this signal obscured awakes the sleeping age/ that trapped my mind/ but now that bind is through/ where is the cursor/ that split the earth in two/ i was arranged/ to build this world anew/ this is the time to rebuild what's mine/ this is the final throw/ this is the time to reopen your eyes/ and see what we can bestow/ awaken/ stand up/ and purge the world below/ relinquish/ this rust/ undertake the plateau/ a long time ago/ i once knew the smell of air/ that sense was ripped apart/ from this elusive affair/ buyers beware/ buyers beware/ i will purchase every soul/ you wouldn't dare/ no, you wouldn't dare regain control/ of my form/ hold your ghost between/ have you ever kissed your ghost between/ this is my form/ you can't even ask for your soul

- afm