Pyramid People

The tilt-a-whirl was fun
But aren't you a Christian?
She said, "This is boring."
Then leaned over and kissed him.
The night was alive
Yeah no one was dead
"Let's get fucked up"
She emphatically said.
With no one around
The parking lot hummed
The back of his compact
Moved with the drums
Someone had told them
That when it was dark out
They needed to lay down
To hold onto art house

Why don't we just go to hell?
He said

She looked all bruised
Her face and it's hurt
He wanted to take it
Right down to the dirt
She posed to be meek
He knew it like scripture
Which is to say that
He'd taken several pictures
But as to the whole thing
He couldn't complain
The ball game went on
Even if for the rain
She asked to go home
He just nodded his head
"That's the wrong way"
She timidly said

Why don't you just go to hell?
He said

The driveway in tears
And the helpful little refrain
Coming from the stereo
Beating out at the rain
The pulse of these noises
And their constant repeats
Shoved her out of the car
Right on her feet
She walked to the door
Went on inside
Slammed it behind her
Stopped pretending to cry

Why don't we just go to hell?
She said

Next saturday night
After movie affairs
The jumped in the car
Surrounded by stares
The windows were down
They yelled at the town
There is nothing around
When the windows are down
The hard rock he would play
She would always cringe
They knew all their motions
Knew they would binge
But someone had told them
That when it was light out
They had to keep walking
To get to the lighthouse

A Host of Horrible Things To Do

Here's the album I recorded earlier this summer with Kyle. It's finally done, you just have to download it and unzip it. The album art is in it if you want it. I'll also put it up here so everyone can see. You can listen if you want to, I'm going to put it up lots of places just to see if I can get some sort of feedback. Thanks to Kyle and Tara for all their help on the album. I hope you enjoy it if you choose to listen. I'll also put up a link to some stuff I've been doing this summer. Fun fun!

Album: http://www.mediafire.com/?3lmt07ytdts

Summer 08 Demos: http://www.mediafire.com/?mn2vmurbcji

Yours,
B Morgz

Older Poems

Cat Walks By
by Benjamin Morgan

I've got hobbies
Just enough of them
To build a fort
Inside my spinal nerve endings
I built a supply line
to my brain
So they can start a wall
Maybe one day it's a fort
No one gets in
Nothing gets out
I can be a pitch perfect machine
If you'll just let me be
If the waves come up to the edge of my beach house
I will not be afraid nor will I begin talking to my realtor

Bless This Home
by Benjamin Morgan

My mother stood on a hilltop and shot my sister
It didn't feel bad at first
And then it really got inside my head
What was happening, I mean
It was something that would hurt for awhile
But not something that would stop me
I felt so driven after that
Everything moved so quickly
Now I'm here
Writing it down to mail it off to a man
A man in southern Greece
When he gets it he has instructions
To dig up the floorboards of a house I purchased there
Bury the letter
And burn everything to the ground
What I'm trying to say is my mother stood on a hilltop

camping at the center of the crater
by Benjamin Morgan

Hey mom why won't girls love me
Hey mom why won't girls touch me
Hey mom I'm getting lonely
I thought I'd write to you from Wisconsin summer camp

The trees are all full and thick with green leaves
And Shelly's learning how to play green sleeves
I want to lay Shelly down in the green leaves
And learn my first steps like she learns green sleeves

Goodbye Oklahoma
I never want to see that state again
Goodbye Dairy County
I never want to visit home again
And the strangest thing that I ever saw
Happen to a full grown man
Was when one broke down crying
On a futuristic Tokyo tram
I was just a tourist with wide eyes
I touched his shoulder and he cried
For the lost love of his tender, doe-eyed
Female companion who he wronged

But i ain't wronged nobody
Since the last thing I remember
Is the first smile I ever got back
From a bench, in a rainy December

But here at summer camp it never rains much
We're always getting too much of the sun's touch
I run outside naked to brown my new body
But everyone stays indoors and gets lonely

Some Critics Are Always Upset

Started spinning one way
and then the
next way
Then I didn't know what was going on
This is what I told the bitchy
news lady to make her the worst
liar in the history of television (satanism)
I started the whole thing
I told my child to leap up from the
backseat and cover my eyes
We plowed along with the front of my
car moving the snowy people
At the end of it I breathed
and let the blood flow from the
gates of television (satanism)
Holding onto a ragdoll
My little man is so brave
I forgot to boast about him to
the lady on television (satanism)
Kill satanism
Kill satanism
Kill satanism
I am a star!



I saw it on the news - Ed.

XII Poems (VII-XII)

Shower Time is Power Time
By XII

I’m under a rock
well known

It’s like I’m taking a shower
People won’t stop stabbing me
No one wants to clean me
I can’t clean myself
The soap is all righteous
And holy
Like I’m not?
Whatever man
You’re the one watching me
taking a shower
I locked the door
Asshole

Living Like A Bedtime
By XII

Humbling the camel
A man of multiple humps
Jumps the subway
Screaming for a band-aid
No one listens
But he knows that
It’s all performance theatre
World’s a stage
Every motherfucker wants a piece
But it’s like spitting
To clean up an orgy
Everything’s already fucked
And no one knows your spit
From the actual shit

Don’t Ding My Doorbell
By XII

Harking the angels nightly
Her dog croons smooth
At my exposed midriff
Stepping on plush toys
To defend my territory
Man at Arms
Man at Arms
Flash the light as a signal
See no coat racks or lampshades
Only real danger partners
Who flash their teeth knives
Like itty bitty tornadoes
Calling Dorothy homeward
Horny Dorothy struts
Losing my exhibition
Red shoes and I’m done

Real Truckers Drink Kool-Aid
By XII

Holy grails are for panties
Not like sons of the flesh
Holding up bright power hours
Holding up wooden beams
Like a little bit of Elvis
And a little bit of natural selection
All the little red ones
Are the real nice turn ons
My words are like magicians
Powering wicked little deeds
Your body is an ocelot chalice
A fast little racing relic
On my bureau
Yeah dementia
Sing my heart to policy
Command me to lie still
New little darling struck stone

Whack-O Tobaccy
By XII

Crystalmethcrystalmethcrystalmeth
I never dreamed it up
I only threw up a fewsies
On the night of the new new years
Holding our little newborner
Returned to the waiting heat
Hold my refilled glass
Will you now receive under
Oaths of all my crystalmeth
The halls are going wacky
The disher is brand crystalmeth
Holy little fingers clamping
Screaming like a monster stamping
Wanting bags enough for camping
I put bows in his hair while you were out
Our son’s name is crystalmeth

Prom in Space
By XII

Hardcore little puritans
At a hardcore re-enactment
Screaming things like HxC
To see a man in stocks
And little bleeding shackles
The little HxC girl near me
Is foaming at her mouth
Neck veins like Wall Street
Eyes like murder or hardcore porn
Nothing her is like a movie
Don’t you even dare
The matinee is closed now
So simply stand in rain
Suddenly a cheering
All hats and bonnets tossed
The clanking of the pins attached
Like the rain I just described

It was so awful up in chains
Having long lists read to me
True scene rules
And heartbreak crimes
Thrown to the more metal fans
Like I ain’t worth a dime
My blood on the mic
Stepping up to plates
Bleeding on my toes too
Blood on cement stage
All your faggy costumes
I want to take ‘em off
I heard your mother calling
Like a howling little dog
Ain’t ya better answer
I won’t sit down no more
This is hardcore (now)

XII Poems (I-VI)

Thesis on Used Cars
By XII

All of this bad thinking gets boys in heaps of trouble.
You know, you know?

Ribbon
Isitnew
Ilikeiteitherway
Heyheyhey
ribbongirloverhere
suppersatmyplace
happygreetingstoyou
eatthewholeplate
consumemyclouddreams
sighmybigeyes
As you walk forward

Wax Dolls Dovetailing at the Speed of Light
By XII

Smiley! Smiley!
Shiny Happy!
Bombs on bursting hillsides
Smiling at my new children
I can guide them all
My curved hand
Beautiful napalm birth pictures
Hosanna!

My Maple Monsters
By XII

my grandmother’s picture
is the best picture because
her teeth are the sharpest
the same for her claws
Sanda comes a nightly vandal
With grim dark eyeballs
Heavy irons on his eyelids
I had never seen giant’s falls
Sharp evergreen bearded men
Holding conversations loud
Look away Santa, Grandma
Teetotalers always were so proud

Us Two and the Foggy Eyeglass Pills
By XII

Who yawned sunlight
Peeking through clouds
Shut your old mouth
I have my dear mothlight
Maps and pictures of dresses
Exhuming dead laces
Identifying the faces
Whose this dead dress is
Shout down the closet hole
I found miner’s hats
And a dozen bats
NO TRESSPASSING sign sold
They came at dark hours
Your mouth wired
I was too tired
They took what was ours

My First Girlfriend
By XII

Good morning Senator
Two more men are dead
Because of you
We need a decision
On the collision situation
Senator, are you listening
I will scream over oaken tables
Slam my fists
Tears cried for this war time
Open the window Senator
Get some cold fresh air
Decisions need to be made
All you do is sigh
And wag your head
Your hair is nice today
But your teeth are not

Our Whole Trip to France
By XII

You are such a whore
A dirty fucking whore
Don’t whore at me!
Whore yourself
For all I care
Just take a whore walk
Dig a whore hole
Do ya whore me?
Whoring winds tear
Rain in a downwhore
I whore you
I’m whorry
Whores on Parade
In your town
Tonight
Check whore times
For hocal listings