"the greatest mystery is not that we have been flung at random among the profusion of the earth and the galaxy of stars, but that in this prison we can fashion images of ourselves sufficiently powerful to deny our nothingness." andre malraux

Ramblings

Thursday, 10 November 2011

Wednesday, 14 September 2011

  • Currently
    Recovering the Satellites
    By Counting Crows
    see related
    it's a losing battle,
    whether it's you or the world,
    or even just me looking back at me,
    from the mirror.
    so i guess it's back to the trenches.

    i'm a lost cause
    cause there's no one
    that wants to get lost like me...
    in a five and a half minute hallway
    in the subway being a porno.
    ...
    i'm the bastard child
    of a god who never existed
    because no one believed but me.


    it's a losing battle
    but i've loaded all my guns.
    and i always shoot to maim.
    and wait...
    i'll hold the door for you ma'am.

    i'm a lost cause
    cause i expect.

    'nough said.

    i'm the bastard child
    of a god who doesn't exist
    because no one wants him to...




    (but don't worry about me.
    if it was a winning fight...
    i'd be gloating.)


    © d.m.riggs. '11

Thursday, 08 September 2011

Tuesday, 30 August 2011

  • i'm most of the dirty names you could call me
    and there are dirty dishes in the sink
    and you're on your way home.
    i wanted to clean
    i wanted to buy subs
    i wanted to shit shave and shower.

    but i didn't.
    so i'll deal with all the dirty names they'll call me.
    and with the one they can't call you.

    © d.m.riggs.'11

Monday, 29 August 2011

  • she tells me to take better care of myself
    so i swallow 4 aspirin
    with the skimpy part of a drink
    and i put some clothes on.
    i brush my teeth with a straight shot,
    then i head out into the streets.

    it's a cool night.
    and i've spent too long digging my grave.
    maybe i'm not quite ready
    to step back up into the gutter.
    but it does feel good to be here.

    my lungs hurt.
    clogged, clotted, or cancerous.
    and my body is beat up --
    at one time i called it desire.
    my hands don't type as well
    since they were broken.

    but i survive.

    ©d.m.riggs'11

Sunday, 14 August 2011

  • smoke swirls in the ceiling fan
    twisting and spinning
    like some back bar poker scene
    but it's just me betting against
    me.
    i got the heavy stack,
    and the high hand,
    but how do you bet
    against a cynic.

Tuesday, 19 July 2011

  • Currently
    Sigh No More
    By Mumford & Sons
    see related

    newly renovated.

    i moved into our new apartment.
    i moved .. in the sleeping bag in the corner
    i moved to you, in our bedroom.
    you brought some clothing;
    you put it in the closet,
    and wore the same thing all weekend.

    we were happy together
    laughing and scrubbing off
    the scars other men left on our walls.
    we tried to clean up mistakes
    and the rest we painted over with dreams.
    we left .. a composite sketch on the kitchen counter.

    i came back to my hometown
    .. from where i was born
    and you went to where ever it is you go
    when you can't hold my hand
    and the rest of our lives
    is locked in a half empty apartment.

    i have the keys
    and i thought i'd proceed
    (my big head barreling like a steed)
    but i stop like i do since i've been with you
    and that's when i hear it:
    mumford and sons, track 5

    playing from inside .. (my head...
    [none of them can, or will, or are.
    [...refrain...]
    second verse...)

    and i leave.
    i'm not ready for the next song.


    ©d.m.riggs.'11

Friday, 15 July 2011

  • i was just this close to the rest of my life
    i could've reached out and grabbed it
    i swore i would
    but it was just a sun dog
    and it seems the sun is still a million miles away
    just close enough to burn me.

Wednesday, 06 July 2011

  • Currently
    Graduation Ceremony
    By Joseph Arthur
    see related
    i used to be your everything...
    back in the hotel, a while ago,
    when we were naked and spent
    and we spent all of our time in love.

    i guess we felt young again,
    because i used to be too old
    to be fooled by
    "nothing else matters, but you."

    but i was.

    and i was supposed to be happy
    but i'm still lying in bed, alone,
    living on alcohol and bad dreams --
    a gutter poet staring at the stars,
    wondering how we fell;
    wondering why anything else matters.
    wondering if it was just your favorite song.


    © d.m.riggs.'11

Monday, 27 June 2011

  • Currently
    The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
    By Brand New
    see related

    it's 3am monday.

    it's 2am monday.
    it's a chapped tongue,
    and i taste it smoldering;
    so my lungs burn
    and my belly boils.
    it's what happens when you can't Live --
    you Die.
    it's what a philosopher does
    to make it profound.
    or maybe what a writer does
    when he's come to accept that
    he's just as bad as a god.

    it's probably some sort of disease.
    or disgust.
    (quitting, or trying to...)
    it's whatever you call it.

    it's 2am every day.
    it's hallucinations and delusions,
    and i make them worse.
    i drink. and drink.

    it's what happened when i decided i wanted to be happy.


    ©d.m.riggs.'11.

d_m_riggs

  • Visit d_m_riggs's Xanga Site
    • Name: d.m.
    • Birthday: 2/13/1980
    • Gender: Male
    • Member Since: 7/23/2008

hmmm...

  • "(he) had been born...in the years when children still had to learn by heart the thirteen reasons for using a capital letter. to these he had added one more of his own, which was that he would, in all circumstances, do exactly what he wished."macado fernandez

Pulse

bookwormish

the watchmen -- warren ellis...\ dmz (1-10) -- brian wood...\ the filth -- grant morrison...\ the sleeping beauty trilogy -- anne rice... \ women -- charles bukowski... \ the fall -- guillermo del toro... \ the strain -- guillermo del toro... \ transmetropolitan series -- warren ellis... \ american gods -- neil gaiman... \ sandman (1-6) -- neil gaiman... \ the curtain -- milan kundera... \ foundation -- isaac asimov... \ ender's game -- orson scott card...\ we the living -- ayn rand...\ the dante club -- matthew pearl...\ sundog -- jim harrison...\ the master and margarita -- mikhail bulgakov...\ ada -- vladmir nabokov...\ murphy -- samuel beckett...\ a hero of our time -- mikhail lermontov...\ dune -- frank herbert...\ fight club -- chuck palahniuk...\ fear and loathing in las vegas -- hunter s. thompson...\ the book of illusions -- paul auster...\ the raw shark texts -- steven hall...\ something happened -- joseph heller...\ wolf -- jim harrison...\ post office -- charles bukowski...\ the city of dreaming books -- walter moers...\ the cement garden -- ian mcewan...\ the stuff of thought -- steven pinker...\ notes from underground -- fyodor dostoevsky...\ steppenwolf -- hermann hesse...\ existentialism and human emotion -- jean-paul sartre...\ the other -- david guterson...\ love and garbage -- ivan klima....\ the family of pascual duarte -- camilo jose cela...\ blind willow, sleeping woman -- haruki murakami...\ snow -- orhan pamuk...\ celluloid cowboy -- scott c. rogers...\ the room -- ray melnik...\ narcissus and goldmund -- hermann hesse...\ the book of revelation -- rupert thomson...\ love in the time of cholera -- gabriel garcia marquez...\ if on a winter's night a traveler -- italo calvino...\ white teeth -- zadie smith...\