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=oldest-boy
sharks don't sleepwhen we pretend to have souls
Newest
ThrillerI got a phone call from one of Freddy Hubbard's friendsThriller
again.
she told me that Michael Jackson had died of a heart attack just hours ago.
I informed her that the king of pop had been dead
(to me) for years.
by =oldest-boy
boy sopranoamidst a long walk to nowhere special I saw her plucking wishes in a field of dreamboy soprano
she had tomorrow eyes that housed more heart than an elephant's chest
that made my soul squeal in vibrant saxophone tones (spitting wild
electron- songs)like high- pitch moans of a boy soprano in the unfamiliar flash of my own ghosts;
I was dead
in my tracks;
she said 'hello.' 4 years later &nbs
by =oldest-boy
to mock a killingbirdoh, to think you know something to wake up wondering, wandering to surrender to pleasure to cut ties and climb trees to call upon your gods to pay rent and bills to eat without chewing to get to know broken glass to skip town and never shake your shadow to be an orphan to fragile forevers and naive nevers to be a dumbass to live without shelter to panic in the streets of las vegas to play musical couches in los angeles and new york city to know you don't belong in minnesota to rest your head in new jersey to steal water and borrow oxygen andto mock a killingbird
by =oldest-boy
cummings43rd choruscummings
cummings, I see it now, my man, I see it;
the beauty behind dis order dis array dis away dat
away
there's always (this place!) and
th is pl ac e!
this finely tuned (electric rise of a begging body's frail- fuzz to rising epiphany) weaponry aimed from.tattoos.to.crayons.at.the.heart
you've chiseled away their gods their coffin-walls their fixed form attire their machines
by =oldest-boy
by =oldest-boy
the nameless project313th chorusthe nameless project3
we played strip-poker hand by
hand and in that nervous light our clothes fell her eyes fell
into a healthy glimpse of just how ugly I was;
'cause there are scars behind my pretty poems
and a heart with muscle- memory, beating the cadence to which dying-soldiers march.
draped in cardio- vascular bandaids I taste-test every apple to make sure it isn't poison
&#
by =oldest-boy
last bus to jerseythe buslast bus to jersey
roared away with a flock of luxury sedans
in its shadow
as my run slowed to defeat.
I spit
downwind into their distance before lighting a cigarette
and inhaling
its expensive smoke into the vulnerability of exhausted lungs.
a young- woman
wrinkled her forehead at me
gasping through my clouds
with her eyes closed
walking her son like a seeing- eye-dog.
I laid down
by =oldest-boy
slideshow
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Instead of butchering poetry
Instead of butchering poetry 5It was a typical weekday night; I was near naked, smoking, and playing with the poems a bit.. ‘Kara with a K’ had cleaned my room and it glowed of pink, as she had draped her panties over the lampshade. The lighting was a nice touch, but I had to pull books from the shelf and rustle papers about to create a suitable writing environment. I was listening to ‘Skinny Love’ by Bon Iver, when my phone rang. The caller id read an unfamiliar number, Which could have meant any number of things. Maybe one of the many women I had given my number to had decided to call, or somebody had the wrong number, but most likely it was some oneInstead of butchering poetry 5
by =oldest-boy
Webcam
Friends
would you purchase a book of my poems?
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Fave News
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- Jul 5, 2009 @ 2:40 am*Anipo
yeah 
AstonisheddeviantID
| Eric Hamilton is a deranged artist who paints everything from canvas to freight trains and is currently talking in the third person. He tours the world getting his heart broken, writes poetry, and enjoys sharing his spoken word at slams or cafes everywhere from NYC out to LA. He was born and raised in Las Vegas, spent a lot of time living in east Los Angeles, and is now unemployed and attending college as a journalism major in New Jersey, where you can find him at art galleries and coffee shops politicking with the poets, art-fags, and random transient folk. He's a bit of a broken man who receives a lot of undeserved attention from women, smokes cigarettes, stumbles in and out of short-term relationships looking for love, spends most of his time waiting for lung cancer and responses from publishers, and is known to occasionally set fire to a booklet of poems aged with the experience of time. |
Devious Info
- Current Residence: New Jersey
- deviantWEAR sizing preference: XL 2XL
- Print preference: Anything for my wall.
- Interests: life and sometimes death.
- Favourite photographer: Katie Brain and Angela Whorton
- MP3 player of choice: portable cd players.
- Shell of choice: coconut
- Wallpaper of choice: Picasso knock offs
- Tools of the Trade: pencils, brushes, microphones, bleeding fingers, ideas that hold water, or pens that hold ink.
- Website: http://myspace.com/tencentfrown
- Email: oldestboyjersey@yahoo.com
- AIM: poetclimbsladder
- MSN: orange_tonka@hotmail.com
- Yahoo: urine+trouble
Comments
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--
Married to the pen,
and we're both having an affair
with the page.
--
a sneak peak of things to come [ read it here. ]
And it's awesome that you're watching me....
look= to get to the point, you probably don't really ever look at what i post so I came here to ask you to check out some of my friends' writings becase I thiink they're awesome and it would be a better use of your time if you actually do read my stuff to read theirs
they are- *betweenthepages, ~zoesponies, ~wolfrose and ~Scatterdotted
thanks a bunch!
--
visit my gallery, if you want [link]
I love brett
--
a sneak peak of things to come [ read it here. ]
nevermind- have a nice summer
--
visit my gallery, if you want [link]
I love brett
--
I am a poetry admin for *DailyLitDeviations.
interested in collaborating?
writer, photographer, painter, whatever(er) -
I'll mix with words with anything you've got.
just been without internet access
for a 'lil bit;
writing a lot though.
i myspaced you;
we againwill
speak.
--
a sneak peak of things to come [ read it here. ]
alive?
--
I have a pocket sun boy
I\'m everything that burns in you...
how's motorcycle boy?
--
a sneak peak of things to come [ read it here. ]
--
I have a pocket sun boy
I\'m everything that burns in you...
--
a sneak peak of things to come [ read it here. ]
dA needs your poetry.
where is it?
--
Married to the pen,
and we're both having an affair
with the page.
read
and
and
--
a sneak peak of things to come [ read it here. ]
--
Married to the pen,
and we're both having an affair
with the page.
--
Love is the Movement. | Note me your poetry suggestions for *DailyLitDeviations! | Have you seen today's *DailyDeviants? | Last Night on Earth
--
a sneak peak of things to come [ read it here. ]
--
Love is the Movement. | Note me your poetry suggestions for *DailyLitDeviations! | Have you seen today's *DailyDeviants? | Last Night on Earth
--
a sneak peak of things to come [ read it here. ]
--
I am a poetry admin for *DailyLitDeviations.
interested in collaborating?
writer, photographer, painter, whatever(er) -
I'll mix with words with anything you've got.
--
a sneak peak of things to come [ read it here. ]
blast off into
outer myspace
"fading yellow ribbons
and bobby gibbons
let's tie 'em both
'round the old oak tree
cooties bugs
in lantern jugs
are quite
alright with me
snake and bake
then shimmy-shake
cookin shane-cakes
in the easy bake oven
come on, cuzzin
nothin' from nothin'
means nuthin'
peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeace!"
people are going to be
so jealous of how
dope we are
--
I am a poetry admin for *DailyLitDeviations.
interested in collaborating?
writer, photographer, painter, whatever(er) -
I'll mix with words with anything you've got.
--
a sneak peak of things to come [ read it here. ]
why+oddnosdam=reaching quiet
--
I am a poetry admin for *DailyLitDeviations.
interested in collaborating?
writer, photographer, painter, whatever(er) -
I'll mix with words with anything you've got.
--
a sneak peak of things to come [ read it here. ]
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