j.y. profile picture

j.y.

I am here for Friends

About Me

-an existential romantic -a postmodern vessel -a victim of the vernacular -a holonic lego -a question mark finding context -a sick lovechild of danielewski and derrida - the space between words, panels, and notes -

My Interests

contemplating the orbital simulacrums in the existential void

I'd like to meet:

the man (or woman) who invented the spork

Music:

i dream of collaborative musical masterpieces.... like what if bjork and worlds end girlfriend collaboed, or zack de la rocha and mogwai?

Movies:

kickboxer, only cuz of the scene of jean claude dancing

Television:

i like to reenact scenarios from "man vs. wild"

Books:

currently... "the children's hospital" by chris adrian

Heroes:

macgyver

My Blog

the war inside

The sea, a viscous of rusted redPollutes the sands where few have treadSilhouettes of ghosts ascending amidstClouding dusts of King CadaverousThe booming silence bombards my drumsOf wails in vain from...
Posted by j.y. on Sun, 28 Jan 2007 05:26:00 PST

more old ish

How had i come to this?I am my omnipresent selfObserving my body makingMonotonous movements mechanicallyMy madness mouths mere mumblesMy dried up gears Continually grindAs the piston pressesMy inarous...
Posted by j.y. on Sun, 28 Jan 2007 05:23:00 PST

old ish

RUINED BY ONEI loved you since my naked entranceBut the intangible line is torn.Violated and torched,Innocence incinerated,And now a prepubescent adult is born.I respected you from the bread that bred...
Posted by j.y. on Sun, 28 Jan 2007 05:19:00 PST

attempt at microfiction

The hooded man slowly approaches the cottage like a hovering mist. His tattered feet are numb to the earth as his senses draw him hither to the aroma of bread and a woman..s harmonic whistling. He k...
Posted by j.y. on Fri, 08 Dec 2006 04:34:00 PST

Ichorous

Her hair, tangled and drenched,Drips like melted icicles. Her tears blend With the bath salts and blood,Flavoring her bitter and bitten lips.The blade chisels through her stomach like a sickle to a fa...
Posted by j.y. on Fri, 08 Dec 2006 04:28:00 PST

The Ancestry (spokenword)

This is a poem for all those ..poets.. who think they are poets but really are just people who think they write poetry. If you can..t even tell me what an iamb, trochee, dactyl, or anapest is then don...
Posted by j.y. on Fri, 08 Dec 2006 04:27:00 PST

Walls of my Youth

These nostalgic walls reflect my youth,Projected like a movie screen,Colored with imagesLike these green neon stars that hover over me,Like a mirage of space, sending me back to a buried memory.In th...
Posted by j.y. on Fri, 08 Dec 2006 04:13:00 PST

Orchid Ghost

I awake from her resonance:A milky hue, the moon eclipsed in her soul,Pulsing its rays through her ivory eyes.Her hair: silky strandsGlistening and gliding on an ocean tide.Her skin: pale and smooth a...
Posted by j.y. on Fri, 08 Dec 2006 04:11:00 PST