Back from Utah

Hello all. I just got back to Tucson after five days in Salt Lake for a funeral. My Grandpa passed away this last Thursday. Needless to say I got behind a little on writing, but after twelve long hours in the car I am all caught up. So please check out the following blogs titled: Home, Seek, Photograph, Bones, and Traffic. Thank you all for reading!

-Bake

Upcoming words.

upcoming words. thanks for the input guys we appreciate our readers:) all 14 of you! :)

lips.
dragonfly.
happiness.
cucumber.
snail.
and skin.

might not be in that order. :)

Pretty sure it is safe to say we all feel the same when I say, this feels so good. Us three have always been "writers" of sorts, and we wanted this site to force us to write even if the subject is something we might not care for or normally be inspired by. In hopes that it will help inspire to write more about the things we are passionate about:)

so thanks again. tell all your friends.

-shan

Bones. Liz's pick.

Bones
Eyes open to a dark room
Mouth full of gauze, unable to speak
I find myself saran wrapped tightly to an office table
The walls draped neatly in plastic sheets
All around me; a collage of macabre
Faces of people I knew without knowing
People whose blood I’d spilled to feed my appetite
A lust for blood that is all too insatiable
Now I find myself…here
Helpless
A victim
In walks a man, my captor
Dressed in a transparent poncho
He is clean, perfectly clean
Unscathed as a patron saint
He leans in close as his right hand produces a scalpel
I wince as he draws a crimson line across my cheek
He places a drop of my blood on a glass microscope slide
A sick little souvenir from the event yet to ensue
“I am going to filet your body down to the very bones”
The words calmly fall from his lips
“You are going to feel what they felt and scream like they screamed”
I was astonished by the steadiness of his voice
No inflection in his tone; calm, steady as a flat-line
His collectedness assured me that this was not his first time
He was too composed, too organized to be a novice
He was too much like me
And yet I was the one on the carving table
Murderers never worry about being murdered
And under the umbrella of that assumption I became all too comfortable
I could not slake the need to feed my disease
So killing became a constant
A mundane task in which I got sloppy, jaded, just fuckin lazy
Consequently, the classic “predator becomes prey” phrase applies
He’s capitalized on my mistakes
He knew the secrets I tried to keep, he knew the monster inside
And his job is to rid the world of monsters, even though he himself is a monster
But…
No one cares if a killer kills a killer
With him justice will not be clean or swift
No, he prefers slow and nasty
I am his frog bathed in formaldehyde; his anatomy experiment
He will savor this as much as I would have
We are truly two of a kind
With a gloved hand he removes the gauze to grant me my last words spoken
All I manage to do is ask “Who are you?”
My eyes stretch and widen in fear as he pulls the trigger of a surgical saw
He coldly replies “My friends call me Dex, but you can call me Mr. Morgan”

-Ryan Baker


The character "Dex" is based on the character "Dexter" from the Showtime Series "Dexter". This character was respectfully borrowed for this piece.

Bones
Won't slaughter without a little laughter,
Don't preach to me disaster.
Can't conquer the world if we're all captured.
We are God on earth,
Bred to bring control to chaos.
Don't confuse us with a pack of rabid beasts.
Wolves only kill what they can eat.
We raze the land and smile with our sharp teeth.
Our castles cast shadows from the hill.
We've paved the paths with broken bones.
And withered mountains to dust and stones.
Morals aren't an issue when we know we're right.
Don't like the course?
Then walk away.
The process will not change,
Until silence is what remains.
-Tylor Sherman


Bones.

I used to think I'd die at thirty two.
no kids.
no you.
Something i did changed my course.
Maybe it wasn't checking the locks three times
or filling up at pump four.
I still think I will die first
a little morbid.
but true.
And when I do,
I hope they dig up my bones
and build a bed for you.

-Shannon Masayo

Mother. Megan's pick.

Mother.

I still think about that drunken night.
often.
and it still offends me.
hopefully these words don't offend you.
somehow. somewhere.
in your rumple-mint blunder the topic went from public schools
to intoxicated slander.
There was no logic in that one sided conversation
in which you probably might not even remember.
I cried myself to sleep that night dear brother.
But who cares right?
"I'm just a mom, and you are nothing but a soldier"
You may regret the life you used to lead
and the places it may have taken you
or didn't take you for that matter.
But ironically.
All I have EVER wanted,
more than anything in this world.was to be exactly what I am.
My children's mother.

p.s.
I'm sorry your dreams have not turned out...yet.
But there is still time big brother.

-Shannon Masayo



Mother
He's got his mother's eyes.
Everyone says he looks like me,
but that can't be.
Friends and family fill the field...
Who knew we knew so many people?
Such a radiant bride.
You never saw the point,
said marriage wouldn't fit you well.
But I convinced you,
Now look at you.
With a body built for a wedding dress,
I wouldn't miss this for the world,
Even as your guest.
Tylor Sherman



Mother

Tortured and tired
You’ve seen many storms
You’ve battled through hell
And smiled at the devil’s scorn
You’ve met the darkest of days
And shaken his hand
And despite his betrayal
Unflinching you stand
Though he will not relent
And dark clouds will cover
You will weather all storms
My life’s rock; my mother

-Ryan Baker

Seek. Heidi's pick.

Seek
Keep your young blood close,
The Holy War Machine's deployed.
Recruiters hunt for students
Like them Columbine boys.
"You won't die alone if you
Can get your friends to join..."
Seek and employ,
Search and destroy.
You're a soldier first, son
That fuckin' gun is not a toy.
I'd rather be buried beside
A grave of pacifist pussies than
Arbitrarily die.
Not for oil, not for money,
Not for Christian pride.
I hold my heart for the sacred stars and
Stripes in hope of stronger civil rights.
America, I thank you.
For the life I freely lead.
Dissent is the blessed beast of free speech,
So I mean this with love when I say:
Get your shit together,
In the name of life and liberty.
-Tylor Sherman


Seek.

I haven't written in a long time
with an actual pen and paper
black pen to be exact
i hate blue pens
they make my words look cheap
like your bleach streaked hair
and your pearly whites
that show through your smiley snare
I wish you'd just say how you really feel.
I'm a bitch because, I do.
But at least I am honest.
you need to get fucking real.
but until you do,
seek friendship elsewhere.

-Shannon Masayo


Seek

Take a number, stand in line
They call this limbo; purgatory
Somewhere in the middle of heaven and hell
Somewhere and nowhere at the same-time
Stand before your judge; your maker
Your executioner or your savior
Plead your case, await your fate
As the gavel slams you start pray
Now you seek forgiveness
Now you show remorse
But inaction speaks louder than the words you never spoke
The casket lid is closed now
You can’t hurt her again
May god have mercy on your soul, for your unrequited sin
May you learn to be good again, may the fates forgive your folly
Just know my mother could have been saved with one two word apology

-Ryan Baker

Photograph. Shantell's Pick.

Photogaph.

We were meant for something great.
I think i knew you in another life.
every life.
you are a part of me somehow
and i have only seen you in photographs.
you are my soul mate.
And I am comin to you.


Indiana I can't wait.

-Shannon M

photograph
To the internet community:
Just because you own an expensive camera
does not mean you know how to take a photograph.
clicking a button and creating art are two different things.
think of that before you charge people for "professional" work.
-Tylor Sherman

Photograph

I don’t photograph well and I can’t quite figure out why
When I am in a pose off with the mirror, I often think “how did you not get a modeling contract”
Then I see myself in a photograph
My hair is flat, my beard is auburn and my arms are far too long for my body
When I stand beneath the incandescent bathroom lights I feel good about myself
It flattens my features, it makes my skin look smoother, and my teeth seem less yellow
The moles on my back don’t stand out quite as much
But outside and in a photograph, my back looks like a tortilla, my teeth are discolored and my pores are deep and noticeable
I guess I am so good looking that no matter the mega-pixels or film speed, my beauty cannot be captured
So though I look bad in digital and celluloid, at least I have a bathroom mirror
It takes my best pictures

-Ryan Baker

Home.

Home
Everyone who matters to me has lived beyond Utah state lines at one point or another. Yet here I am. Still.
I spent time with my brother today.
I listened attentively to his European adventures;
Listened to his drug-induced journeys and sexual conquests.
I listened to him live the life I have read about.
Last time I saw him, he was jaded and vacant when it came to feelings or emotions. But today, he tells me about patching things up with old friends.
About how life's disappointments have led him to where he is now.
It could've been all the cotton trees, but I swear I saw his eyes swell and spill over like two tiny levies as he described recent conversations with friend.
He's finally comprehended the consequences of all his decisions.
They weren't sad or painful tears. They were grateful. Positive. Overwhelming.
I'm just thankful he still has emotions.
I don't think I excelled as an older brother,
but I'm realizing I didn't fuck him up completely.
Although I'm stuck here a for little bit longer I'm still my family's anchor.
To my wayward loved ones, I am home.
-Tylor Sherman




Home

Home is where the heart is
But my heart is in two places at once
Does this make me homeless?

-Ryan Baker


home.
In the darkest corners of the deepest parts in you,
I built a home.
For me and you and the two breathing beings we have made to live.
A place for our beds.
A resting place for Our heavy hearts and weary heads.
A place to eat and drink and be merry.
Sometimes less of the latter.
But still our home.
A place where our dance parties don't need music.
And our dinners don't need forks and spoons.
A place where the sex has never been better.
A place that I invested my whole self into.
I sewed myself to the walls of your inner rooms.
BUT now I've locked myself out.
And I've lost my extra set of keys.
-shannon masayo

Traffic

Traffic
Out of the list of things I'm not,
At the top of the page you'd pen: caught.
I'm the peasant king.
African birds pick my teeth clean.
I designate passengers to sit in traffic for me.
I want you to want to see me...
With witnesses and everything.
I don't believe in superstition,Want to catch a full-bodied apparition.
I perfectly conditioned for this ghostly position.
-Tylor Sherman



Traffic
I will throw myself into the rush hour traffic
of his want,
his need.
raw.
No seat belt
only wind
and speed.
Our veins the road map to morning.
-Shannon Masayo



Traffic
I love the safety people feel in their cars
It’s an extension of home; a second mortgage on wheels
And because of that safety, people forget they are surrounded by walls of windows
They forget they are being watched in mile per hour glimpses
And when people know they aren’t being watched, that is when they are at their best
Or worst…
Look to your right, a young girl is putting on lipstick in her mirror
At the same time she is fumbling a Mcgriddle sandwich, while talking on her cell-phone
Judging from her spray on tan, I am sure she like totally likes the word “like”
Look to your left
A businessman drumming his fingers while maintaining the ten and two position
He is bobbing his head in 4/4 timing
Pretty sure I can hear Supertramp playing through his closed windows
They are such a safe band, hence him keeping his hands safely on the wheel
Back to your right
The spray-on tan girl is now digging deep into her nose with her pinky finger
She is up to her second knuckle and is going for broke
Glance to the left
A forty something woman is belting a operatic tune
I can’t hear her voice over the rumble of her 70’s pickup
But her facial grimaces give away her dedication to the role of a driver seat diva
She is in the moment; driving and onstage at the same time
She doesn’t want fame or fortune
All she wants is R.E.S.P.E.C.T.
Ya know, just a little bit
Stop light approaching
Glance right
A minivan full of screaming kids
A flustered mother yelling at her red faced husband
Dad reaches back and hammer fists his kids legs
Don’t worry dad, another thirteen years and you will be fat, bald, and stripped of all your dignity, but at least those little bastards will be out of the house
Driving in your car, you get a front row seat to American culture
We are a culture of multi-taskers who practically live in our cars
We eat, drink, converse, have sex, sing, dance and ponder, all in our cars
Whoever invents the toilet-car seat will make a fortune; we would never leave our rolling homes
I am filing a patent as soon as I am done with this
Anyways, the next time you’re stuck in traffic, look around and observe
And enjoy the motion picture
-Ryan Baker

Still. For Devyn Marie.

still.

I had a dream about zombie tigers
with blood and guts in their teeth.
They were coming for you and me.
We could hear them coming.
and we didn't care.
We were ready for them
and we just stood still.
right there.

-Shannon Masayo

Still
Confined to a cubicle.
Dressed for a funeral. Disconnected.
8 hours at time.
Still, it feels cozy in this coffin.
You get your own name tag and a security pass.
You're a big shot, finally paying those student loans off.
Youth prescribed potential, but you refused to fill the order or talk about politics, cause he's not the one you voted for.
You didn't vote at all.
You just want to ease into your fifties and hope your wife will still fuck you.
Fine. Enjoy your life.
Who am I to tell you you're not living it right?
-Tylor Sherman


Still
“Poor little fella” I said, peering down on a screaming bunny
It lay there with crushed legs, crying
I couldn’t believe how much it sounded like a newborn baby
I couldn’t believe what we had done
I was seven and just trying to be like the older kid
I looked up to him, but now I hated him
I hated myself for not stopping him
I hated myself for joining in
We were just being boys
Throwing rocks at a little bunny
The bunny seemed impossible to hit
But God had a lesson to teach us that day
The older kid shouldered up a rock the size of a grapefruit
He heaved it; success, target devastated
The legs of the bunny were smashed; broken
It screamed and cried, trying to figure out why it deserved this
We approached an knew what we did could not be undone
We tried to make the bunny comfortable
We brought it water and some grass
It laid there suffering, looking us in the eyes
Crying, whimpering, breaking us both apart
I felt like my insides were spilling out all around me
I felt nauseated
I have never felt such disgust in my own actions
We left the bunny for the night, hoping that just maybe it would be miraculously healed by morning
We returned at sunrise
When we got there we heard no whining
We saw no flailing; the bunny lay still
Its body was flattened; its head was caved-in
Someone had crushed it with a rock
Someone finished what we started
But that someone was trying to end its pain, not inflict it
Not like us
We were just boys being boys
But I still live with what I’d done

-Ryan Baker

Wind. For StacyAnn.

Wind.

I want to be reincarnated as a kite.
I don't want to be superman
or a bird
or a plane

I don't want wings.
I want a tail of string.

I want sky.
and the wind.

and when I crash,
I want a little boy and his dad
to pick me up
and make me fly again.
-Shannon Masayo

Wind
You're not listening, let me be.
I only meant to make you proud.
You suffocate and call it love.
I love you too, but as of now...
I'm not in love,
Not in a good place,
Not in any position to give you what you want.
I'll keep breaking your heart.
Until you wind up hating me.
But let me go. Let me show you.
I think I could really be somebody.
-Tylor Sherman

Wind

I have no use for the wind
It messes up my hair, and I love my hair
It’s always blowing dirt into my eyes
It stirs up the pollen and makes my girlfriend sneeze
Have you ever tried jogging against the wind?
It’s awful; it makes you feel like you’re running in place
Forget about golfing in the wind
Wind, you only make things harder
Get a life wind!
We hate you!
You blow!

-Ryan Baker

Cadence

Cadence
I absolutely hated this word. But i loved her.

When I first saw her, I fell in love.
She was warm.
and she has sunshine behind her teeth.
our hearts
jump jump jumped
to the same beat.
I saw her every day for a month.
and then she up and left me.
she stopped the dance.
Her name was Cadence.

-Shannon Masayo

Cadence
In the dark.
You climbed my body like a mountain.
Left grass stains on my back.
It's okay, I say. I stole this shirt.
I can steal another.
On-call cops asking us to move along.
It's after-hours.
Off balance but on beat,
Fingers laced like a corset,
stumbling through empty streets.
We march to the crickets' cadence.
We'll never be this happy again.
-Tylor Sherman


Cadence
(A tribute to Metal)

I love my metal heavy as iron and razor sharp
I love the thundering gallop of staccato triplets
The sound of the four horsemen coming to claim your life
Let them come
Cause we love that evil sound
That sound that smashes your skull, wrenching it back and forth
Your ear drums become the drummer’s kit
While he pulverizes them with frenzied double bass
Chug, chug, squeal! Chug, chug, squeal!
The guitar breaking down and building back up
Rising higher, getting faster, building to a climax
Oh man, here comes the solo!
The horsemen begin ripping us to shreds
Being torn apart never felt so good
Each of their fingers has a mind and body of its own
They effortlessly dance on rosewood floors
Those strings are gonna be smoking cigarettes after all that finger love
This is metal
It is all so blistering and raw
And all those other nasty adjectives
My ears smile as the horsemen bring on the cadence of the apocalypse

-Ryan Baker

Napkin

Napkin
When you tread on me,
Tread lightly.
I'm patient, not perfect.
Eventually I will respond.
Odds are, it'll be dirty.
A violent series of actions.
You can't clean up a catastrophe
With a couple paper napkins.
Don't seek a front row seat
And just watch it all happen.
It's called justice, darling.
Accept the consequences of your actions.
-Tylor Sherman


Napkin

I used to write love letters to strangers on napkins
I would let them know how beautiful I thought they were
And the best part was, they believed me
Now all I want to do is fuck and fight
And write hate letters to people who don't know how to drive

-Shannon Masayo


Napkin
We were just an idea jotted down on a dinner napkin
Placed in a pocket and thrown away; within that very day
We were living proof of social Darwinism; we lacked the tenacity to survive
The both of us just stepping stones to something better
Still I regret not fighting for you; you were worth more than a shrug of my shoulders
Regret is a great giver of wisdom
I learned to fight for what is worth fighting for
No matter how bloody things may get; you take what is yours
Because of you, I gave up on…giving up
Thank you
-Ryan Baker

Savior

Savior
I forgot who i was for the longest time.
I for got how to say my own name.
I lost friends,
the ones that didn't matter.
but still.
They are gone.
The sky is never blue anymore.
and words are just big streaks of black blur.
is this even my skin?
and much too long hair.
consistently stagnant.
I just keep standing here.
I want scream.
and dream.
and save the world.
teach the girls how to fly.
I want Cambodia.
and Indiana.
I want to pray more.
and when i look in the mirror,
I want to know me,
and see my Savior.
-shannon masayo



Savior
You’ve changed my life, my oldest of friends
I feel you, I understand you, I guiltlessly worship you

When you speak, when you scream, when you sing
Pinpricks trace down my back

You move inside of me
You stir and inspire me

Once upon a lifetime ago, you were all I knew
I wrote you, everyday, for two- years

You, my insatiable addiction
My only drug of choice

Then one day you left me
The spark that became a flame had fizzled out, and now what remains?

A shell of what I used to be
All inspiration had left my throat and fingertips

Now parasitically, I feed from you
Have I nothing to offer this once symbiotic love affair?

One day, you will be in my life again
I will return the love you have given me

You’ve changed my life, my oldest of friends
Music; my savior, I will make you once again
-Ryan Baker




I have removed my post for personal reasons.
-Tylor Sherman