Posts tagged porter.

Midnight Coffee

Midnight Coffee

Keep me up

Midnight Coffee

Kept me up

Slosh through the bright and blinding sun

on my way to a job that’s just no fun

Drown out the sounds of daily routine

sleepwalk through life  

try not to be seen

Punch the clock  

kick off my shoes.

shake off the working class blues

A dream of flight 

A sleepless night

I take out the pad and write away

A kettle boils, steams and pops

Hot pot of coffee

Please help to fend sleep off 

MIDNIGHT COFFEE

By Michael Lorenzo Porter

Walthamstow

A face in the rain, wet bread crumbs for sick birds and the smell of feces.

Welcome to the Farmer’s Market of Walthamstow.

No, we’ll take your coat—and run off with it.

Mind your wallet. Mind your step. mind your mind in the sea of shit.

Unholy matrimony between fish and sidewalks bathed in dry gum. 

Kids pushing and fighting over a stale waffle covered in mold and cream, an old woman with more bags then her bent spine can handle.

It’s a real mess in the street but it’s lovely somehow.

Hill top reminders.

He stood atop the hill and waited patiently for his food as the wind blew trash past him on the cobblestone ground. He pulled the collar up on his coat and blew into his gloveless hands. This was winter. This was what everyone had warned him about and as he stood there trying not to shiver and shake, he decided that he wouldn’t tell anyone just how tough it was. He figured that revealing that made him seem human and he’d gotten far enough in life getting people to believe that he was something more than just average.

To scrap the plan now seemed silly and cowardly—in fact, no such thought should have crossed his mind. It did though. It crossed it and lingered there. It lingered for more than a second and now,now it had taken up space in his mind. Traveling through a field on a plane in another dimension proved fruitful and taught him the meaning of perspective. You see, things are much different from way up here. Different isn’t always bad but it is almost always scary. If you aren’t afraid, you aren’t alive. If you aren’t alive, you’re dead. 

I was scared

I checked late late last night in a  drunken stupor.

It was there. 

I knew it was there.

But when I awoke the next morning, it still shocked me to find it there.

More than anything, it was the thing I said to myself that shook me the most..

I said to myself: “I had faith and I knew it would be there…I had blind faith and I knew it would be there..”

Now, if I can have blind faith in something as small as money being where I need it to be, why can’t I have faith in something as large and grand and beautiful as the idea that there’s a GOD up there that loves us?

And now that I pose the question to myself, I have an answer..

It’s cause I know it’s not true..

Online transactions and circuitry and technology have nothing to do with some great intellectual being watching over all these people.

Clearly IF he ever gave a shit about us…he doesn’t now.

ALLITERATIVE APOCALYPSE

Angelic, able-bodied and adventurous amateurs aimed awkwardly at associates after attempting another assassination.

Beleaguered, beaten and broken beasts barely breathing, bathed in beautiful basins. Begging became boasting beyond borders and busty brides blushed before being bought by bashful brutes.

Camps crumbled. Crushed — caravans came carrying cures. Colossal crime waves….

Digitalized despair drowned desperate deviants denying death. Diarrhea dripped down, dooming dogged drunks. Disgusting disease dumpsters doubled as dwellings for decades…

Egotistic entitlement ended. Energy evaporated, ending economy entirely. Every entry enclosed. Evolution, eventually endured. Early-morning earners entrusted Earth’s entire ecosystem to espionage. Eternal earthquakes eviscerated eels and elephants alike.

Fuck.

Glorious and grand gorillas guarded grateful geezers. 

Hierarchy helped hold hopeless homeless hostages.

Indoctrinated idiots informed interstellar impostors of implemented institutional invitations. Infinitely impossible issues instigated inner infighting.

Jokers, jesters and jezebels jabbed jaded jocks and jumped on jaguars while joyfully jeering juxtaposition of Jesus to jubilant Jehova.

Kingdoms of keen killers and kings where kept kempt and neat until the hour of defeat.

Luscious and loveable lackluster sluts strutted about before dusk. Nothing mattered much. Luck was lacking and much was lost. All people remaining gave up on love as a likely end to their lows.

Machinery continued to malfunction in marvelous fashion, leaving most men motionless. Majesty—measuring malice over mercy delivered on both and moved meticulously towards mending mowed down monuments. 

Never needing out of necessity—needing out of nausea. Nerds and newcomers nestled neatly under nests made of neglected networks of natural stone. Nonetheless, nefarious nomadic nihilists nimbly negotiated nuclear attacks. NIRVANA.

Opting to openly and officially ostracize officials officially ushered in lawlessness.

Pigs and preachers pressured preoccupied pawns, primarily pushing pathetic and pitiful laws. Progress? Pitchforks lined the highways across the pastures of the fallen patriarchs and practitioners likened the pitfalls of plague to plain old punishment. Purgatory.

Questions quickly climbed the social ladder and quelled the feeling of calm. 

Rampant and rapid repulsive decapitations revolted rising revolutionists. Rolling skulls rocked hill sides and wreaked havoc on regular folks. What ever regular was.

Sun was dead and many sons would be soon too. Not just here on Earth but everywhere in out blood spattered society. Reaping the rewards of our soulless cowardice would be the end of our sins and send so many searching for shelter.

Treachery ruled thousands and the turn of thought was thought to be a turning point but it was short-lived and more trouble than most initially thought. Tears fell and although the people left were visibly disturbed, their insides remained hard and taught. Lifeless shells leaving bloody footprints wherever they dragged their meaningless empty carcasses.

Under umbrellas, undesireable undead and underfed undefined unclean urchins struck each other for crumbs.

Vultures appeared and viciously ripped flesh from victims shard white bones.

Where most had seen waves of dead before meeting his fate while waiting, Wally wept woefully and was crushed under the weight of a hundred women wondering why we went so far down the well. We went down for wealth. We had it. Where was it?

X-rays revealed exactly what experts predictions had predicted. Exponentially expanding execution only resulted in executions. Exported humanity for the sake of a dollar. The children hollered from below the floor boards but no one came. Examples. Left behind for someone to excavate.

Yellow bellied yes-men yanked younger men from beds and demanded unyielding dedication. This was the end of the road for many and let this be an education.

Zed.

Written by Michael Lorenzo Porter

It’s all yours.

Poverty to prosperity and the edge of insanity. Calamity and foolhardy is the foolish nature of the reckless adventurer too bold for wisdom.

A life of solitude in the crowd of fools. Surrounded by genius and witless at the same rate. About half will suffer and not too late. None too wise and each one’s success is subject to fate. 

Blind chance does not discriminate.

Don’t put your life in hand’s of men with less at stake.

Young American

The chatter of a thousand voices and accents sounded like they were mixed together my a DJ from hell. The buildings were tall and old. I decided that since they didn’t get earthquakes out here it probably helped to keep everything intact for so long. Still though, the crowds, the noise, they were soothing. It was as close to home as I’d been in months.  My ears were at home at least. Being from Los Angeles, it is the norm to have people al around you who don’t speak English. Speaking of my ears, they were freezing. I felt like I’d been walking around for hours, no, days. Maybe longer. People popped in and out of shops with bags bigger than their middles and eyes wide at the sign reading “50% off” and another sign reading ” fantastic holiday deals”. Ahhhh. Christmas time. Consumerism, steady rain fall and the chill of Winter on a Friday afternoon. not too cold, nothing that a decent overcoat couldn’t fight off. I had been looking for this place for hours. I think I was close but I couldn’t be sure. To be honest, I had given up reading street signs. They put them all really high up on the sides of buildings so I had stopped craning my head up like some sort of awkward alien giraffe looking for food. In reality though, I just thought it gave me away as a foreigner. An outsider. Someone who didn’t fit in. An outcast. A nomad. An illegal. I had to bury that shit. I have to go into every pub, restaurant and diner like I own the place. Confidence is key. I repeated this to myself until I had a headache. I asked a stump of a man on the corner where I might find a particular Itlaian restaurant I was told would be more inclined to hiring someone in my predicament. Sideburns that’d make Liberace jealous, a gut that invaded anyone’s personal space who had stopped to ask him anything and a bright red face that he seemed to be proud of. He’s probably drunk but I just saw him helping someone else so I’m sure he can tell me where the fuck this place is. I’m tired of looking and I don’t care if I don’t blend in, I just need to find this place and get it over with.
"Hi, can you help me find this address?" I point to my phone screen and rain droplets collect on the face.
"Put that thing away!" He shouted, disturbing pedestrians and causing a jolt that made me laugh.
"Take tha first left ya see there. See the green and gold pub?"
Blinking through the rain, I nod and squint—wiping water from my brow and motioning to let him know I saw the pub in the distance.
"Good, yer eyes work!" 
He seemed to only laugh at his own jokes.
"Now turn left at that corner and keep the pub to your right shoulder, make another left and then turn right at Dean St."
"Thank you so much. I really appreciate it."
I was off into the mass of people—fighting for space along the crowded side walk, trying to breathe amongst the desperate shoppers and tourists. I was near to the restauarant now. I gathered myself, wiped a fresh coat of rain off my face, tucked my ipod and phone into my bag. I didn’t want them to see them bulging in my pockets and gather that I had travelled more than thirty minutes to get here. I’m so paranoid..

"Here goes nothing.." I mouthed under my breath.

To be continued.

Movie rant

Fanboys are ruining movies. Every geek with a comic collection and an internet connection is trashing these flicks for not being 150% accurate according to their precious comics.

Can you imagine if this were the case thirty, maybe even forty years ago?

The Shining would have been trashed by idiots who hate that Kubrick changes the ending and took liberties that totally fucking work for the purposes of FILM!

Goddamnit, if you want something faithful to the source material, read the source material.

Grey

Shoes, shirts, skies and eyes. 

Everybody showed up, only  to find out they had already died.

No tears fell. Only bodies.

They stood and watched while the invaders partied.

Lights flashed and music started, the horizon was alight with exploding constellations.

The ground gave way to gaseous clouds of purple that shifted through the blood red sky like poisoned cotton candy ready to rip the soul from anyone who had the misfortune of inhaling them.

All in office proceeded to higher ground, higher ground was quickly reduced to rubble and ash. Not one single earthly representative was safe in it’s path.

We who survived, and that is to say the two of us have used our time to reflect, plan and most importantly, to move forward.

We never should have come here..

The End.


Contrast

Is everything really relative? I mean a kid with no food. That’s not relative. Nothing is nothing. Wealth is relative though. Weird.

I pondered this for about 55 seconds while working on another piece of work and boy is it a piece of work. I sit here and think about just what makes me think what merit anything I’m doing really has. 

Well to be honest, that’s just the thing, as long as it means something to me then it should be written right? That’s not to say every thought should be jotted down and that’s where we are in society.

Nobody can say or do something without it being documented. No one is discovered anymore. People can go out and show themselves to the people who can make them rich. 

Cool right? I don’t fucking know. It seems that with an influx of people with access to cheap tools that allow them make art, we get a whole lot less art. The things that rise to the top and gain the most exposure continue to be the things that always have. 

Let’s face it, sex sells and it always will. I’m rambling again. I’m not gonna sit here and act like I don’t watch porn but you are fucking lying to yourself if you think Katy Perry is famous for her oratory skills. Her talents lie elsewhere.

I had a cool note to end this on but now I’ve fucking lost my point in the haze of other thoughts and will re-visit this later on when I have things in order. 

Until then, chaos.