[ .xv. ] (sleeping in between the engines,)

sleeping between the engines, as  consuming thunder tempers underground, for the sound is reaching out in the serpent walled room, and smothering your cries, stabbing through your crooked folly.

© Bryan McLean May 31, 2009

[ .involuntary.love.ii. ]

struggling, muddling through my aches and long sun days, birds mock with gliding freedom, giggling as they soar, like dolphins chipping reckless abandon. tied out in the deep scorching light, cooking my flesh, my weary hands, as my pale moon skin turns roasted red, and my atria and arties cease to love me, giving up, where I fight to go on. I'll be no limit, climb back to the sun, and mock down to the sky below me, at the birds that once blocked
my heart's path.

[ .involuntary.love. ]

my heart, my paired twin, uncaring, palpating, in my chest, like thunder or bright rain, with too many holes in it, so no matter how much I fill it up, amour, goals, reckless abandon, even hemoglobin, just pushed away. it refuses to hold on to anything, even for my sake, our sake, its all just involuntary love.

© Bryan McLean May 29, 2009

[ .cats.game. ]

scratch on
two by two
the exes to the ohs
no ooh or ahh
just locking conflict
out on the ground we take
nor on the mile we share
do we gain anything
but losses
on every side
no one is winning
and every lost
deminishes us all

© Bryan McLean May 27, 2009

[ .palpations.still. ]

my crazy life.. I don't know how to be around people half the time.. I talk too much, fill in gaps of silence by going on about all the things I do.. cannot keep my fingers still.. I'm not a pompous jerk, I just do a lot of things.. I'm pretentious for a reason.. and then its the day job or the lovers or the book or the albums and the singing and lack of signing.. no tours, no profit .. only my stupid hands making things that leak out of my head and cannot find a home or any kind of solid commitment for execution.. cannot keep my fingers still.. and the people I owe or the holes that I've dug and favours I cannot pay back.. and all this going nowhere.. just wanted to act like and be myself.. that I know I am.. and I think too much and have no clockwork heart.. just stones in place of palpations.. and fingers that cannot be still..

© Bryan McLean May 26, 2009

[ .giving. ]

don't really believe in karma, not if I ever did, a life spent caring sharing, exhuasting. nice comes in last, its clear, the value of giving in a world built for taking. no profit or security in love. but I'm crap at anything that doesn't use my heart, so I guess I'll continue with this lost aching feeling in my chest and empty wallet.

© Bryan McLean May 25, 2009

[ .xiv. ] (swelling digits,)

swelling digits, in the dark, a.m. passing, as fingers retch and reach for wrists or ankles or any swearset handhold, in the gripping, the very trap of maw, all hallowed, the canticle escaping, lung and cord. found the in finery of grass, sound as silk, as it brushes your forbearing cheeks, and fattening lips, the years etched in, lines built all surround, from your clearly living lies.

© Bryan McLean May 24, 2009

[ .as.we.peer.into.the.sky. ]

heart racing, pulse breaking, seems to be morning, as we peer into the sky, anthropormorpheous skin, fluid in it's cockschemed timing, watching us, from heavy irises that tumble, from the trembling clouds, that poxed and thick, it's hunger rumbling children, deep and festering, in it's dovetailed liquid gears, in the all aligned coding, that's forcing our attention, ever onward.

© Bryan McLean May 23, 2009

[ .a.fortune. ]

You will encounter a sense of confusion today. You have lots to contribute to the universe, you just have to get out there and take one more punch to the gonads.. take just one more for the team. On the up side, romance is in the air, up in the air; might as well be stuck on-air in the radio waves, for all its transparency will do you. Fortunately, by the end of the week everyone will see just how hard you've been working, leading by example, setting goals and making things easier for everyone, so they don't have to do anything, and there is really no reason for them to help you out, because you have it all under control (compulsive disorder anyone?) Oh, and you'll forget your lunch at home on the counter too, where the cats will have access to it all afternoon.. so don't forget your good fortune today!

© Bryan McLean May 22, 2009

[ .zip.pers. ]
 
sunny, all decked out
in the living room
you pull me back
behind the shadow
of a clock tower
where no one will catch us
pulling my pants clear
dropping your own
you tug at me and giggle
its sunny, all set out
in the living room
you play and compare
I'm nervous but smiling
strange games
girls play
when you are five

[ .bottle.rocket.radio. ]

and I think I'm eight
with some freshly bought fizz pops
and brand new sneakers
colour wrappers
its sunny, maybe spring
my dad's nineteen-eighty silver mustang
smells of copper and red leather vinyl
or vinyl white sneakers
with white white shoelaces in the sun
I can't quite make out the dashboard
definitely cannot reach it
red seatbelt too tight
it's too sunny downtown
near our bank
but I'm waiting in the car
some other chewy candy
takes the horrible sting
of bubbling tangy fizz
out of my mouth
things seem 'too' too much
when you're so little
the old country mixed tape
is still playing on my dad's radio
while he was running inside
the car running in the heat
I wish I could remember
if my dad or mom was smiling that day
or if I was eight years old
but all I recall
is how much I hate
fizzy candy in my mouth

© Bryan McLean May 20, 2009

[ .elongated.calculations. ]

master deceit
the same breath you use
to tell me how gorgeous
like the sky & sun, I am
and then
how unworthy I am
at your barren feet

© Bryan McLean May 19, 2009

[ .mid.day. ]

down the length
of body
a hand glides
where heart marks
are clearly in the skin
can't stay
somewhere to be
don't know how to say
we should stay
in the mid day light

© Bryan McLean May 18, 2009

[ .why.aren't.they.near? ]

[ i ]

where are all the easy wolves?
the ones too quick to shudder
are they in the sleazy urban tops
or on the outskirts riding home?

good heart good natured
panting in the lake day heat
hunting down now or
lolling over the voluptous boys
filthy from their lack of sincerity?

[ ii ]

where are the foxy girls?
those far too shy to flash
their tails and masks our way
smoking and turned purple
from your clandestined candor

a swaggering demeanor
in your after glow
their scent bouquet and borrowed
sweaty from the daily hunt
of rubbing flirt to front

[ iii ]

where are all the wild kai-yote curves?
their strapping loose from chewing
out and free on the hunting green
where wind sets furl their torrent of hair
thick coated from all their lying

teeth too sharp to set you out
etched into all their little giggles
or nudging out some other lunar mystery
they are not down at vicious
not hiding out near seventeenth

still nowhere near my kind of trouble
nor riding me with all their wild
where all their passionate wind
is made from throbbing love
and curvaceous lies

© Bryan McLean May 17, 2009
(updated version)

[ .dumbfound. ]

don't really know what to say to you, when your cool & jealous boy is there, and I'd much rather say what is on my mind .. sitting, in respect, instead of in my heart.. feeling stupid about the tear in my jeans, my worn out hobo-skateshoes, or my lack of haircut.. and its easy with you, like I'm normal, and not such a fumbling awkward idiot boy.. my lungs are flooded, my brain filled with smiles and drinks.. in company I've missed, so much more than I can really explain.. not sure how to say it.. I don't really know what to say to you.. unless you come closer.. maybe I'd figure it out..

© Bryan McLean May 16, 2009

[ .reprise.from. " strange " ( '99 ) ]

reaching
you're reaching
reaching so hard
for the sun
reaching for
that height & expectation

where wing can not soar
and wax can not bear
but we can not be touched
and our course can not alter

take up my charge
take up my wings
borrowed if need be
burn me up
on luminescent searing atmosphere
re-entry to my heroes' heart

moving at speed
shifting hard 
like random thought
wing now wax & down
soar to every point
engaged and ever-ready

where every night burns
screaming out a primal scream
and dreaming of the sky on nigh
the black charcoal sky
filled with the starless void
filled with the void of potential
engaged and ever-ready

© Bryan McLean May 15, 2009

[ .rainseeds.]
 
i
monsters, crawling up your skin, time to break for it again. sleeping, the syllables mending, in awkward angled lacerations, that cover, every inch, of your intricate, precious, maw.
 
ii
diving in, lines long to run, down in spirals, black. into the boaring tunnels, of your spirit body, lowered in, caught in the maelstrom, a consuming torrent, like in love, where lovers meet.
 
iii
inclined to defence, the turnaround, this phase. out in periodicals, letter by litter, in palm pulp read, swelling in the skies, birthing proportions, heavy with the children, meant for graphed vellum ground.

© Bryan McLean May 14, 2009

New track from Corbae : http://myspace.com/co7bae" title="http://myspace.com/co7bae" target="_blank"http://myspace.com/co7bae 
Corbae - 2009 Eviscerate- 37 -Rainseeds ( Cadaver Diving ) :

http://lyinghere.com" title="http://lyinghere.com" target="_blank"http://lyinghere.com
© BMc  ____

[ .moth.wind.i. ]

switchout on the tapedeck
rolling back to make certain
all those imperfections
are caught just right in the magnetics
holding your last rites together
as we rise
on your moth wind
cutting us now at this hour

© Bryan McLean May 13, 2009

[ .used. ]

she's rolling over
on her trampoline
the day waking + weary
are our children now
the tight line walkers
sounding out the morning
rush up against
her coming-to sighs

© Bryan McLean May 12, 2009

[ .yellow.lines. ]

but I know we shared a moment back there, when & where you elbowed me out of the way, on the ctrain, downtown passed yellow lines, deep yellow lines that you cross, to get to me.

© Bryan McLean May 11, 2009

[ .in.the.fluid.lit.park. ]

sweaty & sweet
the girls glare down
frowns
in the fluid lit park
pouting at
the ruined seconds
that just passed
in flux
pulses wave & bounce
buxom in the whirling
spring light

© Bryan McLean May 10, 2009

[ .xiecho.tropic. ]

words arch in gravity
post pendulum
parting like
the ricochet
from walls on sound
lines lovely
lowered below
your equator
of heartfelt lust
circles of latitude
neither nor your regions
lowered below
my heart felt rust

© Bryan McLean May 9, 2009

 

[ .perdido.te.en.traducción. ] mi corazón se marchita como caes mi corazón quiere como te es mi corazón dolores como vas

[ .lost.you.in.translation. ] my heart wilts as you fall my heart wants as you are my heart hurts as you go

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

© Bryan McLean May 8, 2009 045/100

[ .in.defense. ]

you play so loud
and walk away
but you love so cold
and trudge this way
in our times
they make us fade
and in this place
you're so slow
like you're on rewind
and fighting here
for something or nothing
all we can do is
find ourselves
in defense

© Bryan McLean May 7, 2009

[ .xii. ] (in my gyrotrope,)

in my gyrotrope, hands, ever untowards, ever unfolding, glaring mass(es) collide(s), in conflict in the faultlines, that rupture your pulply skin, succulant, crushed against the windscrew, that love that you carry around.

© Bryan McLean May 6, 2009

[ .xi. ] (radio is now,)

radio is now, everyone to the frontlines, you in the back, get in the front line, reality isn't waiting for you, to happen, now is now, now is now.

© Bryan McLean May 5, 2009

[ .x. ] (bright as summer light,)

bright as summer light, cascaded silhouettes from the halos built from florescent teeth, here the glass holds back, the hostile night.

© Bryan McLean May 4, 2009

[ .ix. ] (perimeter of skin,)

perimeter of skin, the fragments & fraction we are trapped in, cause ways unaligned in our stirring selves, echo of the nuance notion of personas we could still become, hands hurt, willing.

© Bryan McLean May 3, 2009

[ .viii. ] (the water tangents,)

the water tangents, ruin me, weathered at poxy surfaces and time over tyne, in the running, oh how the spark sits, ready to turn on you, from ediface, starter to narrow, flame in blue, as it conspires to burn you.

© Bryan McLean May 2, 2009