Currents

  • Secret Sacred

    Sneaking around
    Over miles and memories
    You seep into me

    Sneaking into a home
    Where I dwell for now

    It’s a warm day outside
    But warmer here when you
    Surprise me

    Coming in
    Taking control
    Of a bluetooth speaker

    And filling these rooms
    With your sound

    With your love
    With your kisses
    And your scent

    Secret and sacred
    On the couch
    Talking in a ruin

    We’re in a new age
    Of green tea frappes

    I can love you
    And we can go
    Far


  • Pocket Infinity

    Something in the air
    A wisp in the cinders
    Caught in a wind
    Descending killer fog

    Electric complexes
    Shoot the sky
    Intimidating by
    Way of light

    These bolts of fire
    Crisp and uplift
    An aura airborne
    In alpine force

    Inhalation of fractals
    Fine dust spinning
    Like a spiral galaxy
    Suspended interstellar

    Cloud complex
    Garnished with stars
    Flaking in the light
    Of these powerful bolts

    When they strike
    Are set off
    Intaking the bold
    Ozone

    Cold
    But their meaning
    Is stoic and
    Choking

    Infinite


  • Photographer Nine

    photographer nine

    Shot with a Canon EOS Digital Rebel XS; f/5.6; 1/400; ISO-800; 18mm. 1/15/2018 3:33 PM.

    We like taking photos, evidently. And I used to be worried about the idea of permanence. Not much anymore. Photography does that to you.


  • Subatomic Resonance

    Nerves were made
    To feel
    What atoms
    Repel

    Since it’s resistance
    At a distance
    That “touch”
    Really is

    Never really
    Making contact
    Thanks to
    Magnetics

    Opposites attract
    But when it gets atomic
    Nerves are made
    To feel

    And the sensation we
    Resonate with
    Are really
    Made by resistance


  • Good Morning

    Cheeks rusting
    On the rooftop

    Pale skin red
    With ferric front

    Freezing morning
    Turning shingles white

    In a sweater crawling
    Out the window

    Carefree iris and
    A done-up bun

    Drinking in
    Nightsmashing sun’s

    Dawn over the
    Mountain chain

    Stars begin to
    Wane

    Replaced by the
    Light of day

    And then you say
    “Good morning”


  • Hijabi Seatllellites

    hijabi seattlites.JPG

    Shot with a Canon EOS Digital Rebel XS; f/5.6; 1/30; ISO-1600; 18mm. 1/12/2018 7:17 PM.

    On the prowl for Himalayan Curry and then lavender honey ice cream. Backlit by streetlights and hooded night. We four found it.


  • Letter Opener

    Another artesian
    Green tea frappe
    From Main St.
    In the admin
    Building

    Me up from
    An idle morning
    Through to an afternoon
    Of kissing you
    Past

    To two o’clock
    I’m receiving a
    Mixtape and
    A criminal’s
    Letter opener

    Opening up
    Some misdemeanors
    A few felonies
    And stuff that’s
    Shady

    Underneath this
    Sappy tree
    Holding your hand
    To songs from
    Soundgarden

    That his victim
    Listened to, a
    Deadbeat vagabond
    Far away from
    You

    Exotic and wonderful
    To my eyes
    Our sync and
    Sentiments will
    Survive

    Being opened
    And read
    Again
    And
    Again


  • Lakefair

    Walking among crowds
    Like we belong
    But we cast ourselves
    A different color

    As observers
    Outsiders to the fair
    To make fun of them
    And enjoy the scene

    Without being a
    Part of it

    Absent from bright lights
    We dim instead
    Dead inside beside living
    And the carefree
    Making fun of them
    Because they aren’t

    The two
    Of us


  • Trees of Silence

    trees of silence

    Shot with an iPhone 5s; f/2.2; 1/2053; ISO-32; 4mm. 6/25/16 4:28 PM.

    In the shadow of Mount Baker, there is a lake, and a river, and an outlet. In that outlet is a wide pond, with beaches below the surface of the water, where trees grow and mirror themselves as they mature.


  • An Alpine Air

    An alpine air

    Five-thirty-five
    Feet from here

    North hill across
    The way we can see

    Particles clear
    They’re spectacles

    Below on the map
    Looking across

    This cloudless canyon
    Full of footsteps

    Stepped past
    The last five years

    An alpine air
    In a clear sky

    Breaths visible
    Life vaporizing


  • Fireball

    Wandering on freeways
    80 miles every 60 minutes
    And every 30 seconds
    I laugh with the force
    Of knowing a month ago
    I was 120 miles away from here
    With other people like
    I was in a movie
    Just a cinema of nitrocellulose
    Powering internal combustion
    Now

    Drinking green tea where
    It isn’t meant to be
    Demystified cinnammon
    Whiskey in the cupholder
    Camera in one hand
    Steering wheel in the other
    Following maps
    In the peripheral

    Offering sacrifice
    To gods in the East
    Outrunning sunset
    And firing away
    With each V6 cylinder
    Into the horizon
    Ever further

    140 miles
    Away from home
    Getting further
    But not looking back
    Because the new is ahead
    Where we don’t belong
    Meeting night
    Like a warlock
    Waiting for us to
    Bring to it its power

    Mountaintops seemed
    So far away
    Before we fired that way
    And brought the light
    With us
    Without suspicions
    Or expectations
    We fire that way
    To the new and the cold

    To make it be so warm
    And
    Welcoming


  • No Pressure – Journal 1/7/18

    I woke up this morning and found that the internet was off. By morning, I mean 11 AM, and by off I mean “Comcast wasn’t up to snuff in my neighborhood today” (the danger of monopolies commentary is surely in the subtext). My first instinct was to think that this was it. People are taking to the streets at last, upset over net neutrality. Comcast killed everyone’s internet and this is how it all begins. I struggled to find a channel to tune into on TV, and by that point I had discovered that Comcast hadn’t been malicious in the way I had thought, no they had merely been incompetent as a corporation. So that’s good.

    My day started as it meant to go on.

    Today is one that’s been spent entirely in a funk. Lightheaded, dreamy, mopey, one of those aimless days that comes around every so often. I thought what might have caused it yesterday was that I was eating too much. It seems that may be the opposite case, I’ve discovered, as the things we have to eat around the household are mostly zero sodium. We started putting the pieces together yesterday, when we found that my blood pressure was reading 118 instead of 120. Not bad, but today was much worse.

    Today my blood pressure read 108. Bit of a drop, and that would most likely explain my not-great mood and constant lightheadedness. I never want to make a racket about when I’m not feeling well because no one likes a whiner, but man I’ve never felt this before. It started just when I was reposturing, but now it’s a constant stream of feeling like I’m dreaming, and that I’ll wake up soon.

    The chief suspect of this mood is the lack of sodium in my diet that is normally present in spades. So hopefully now that I know I should be eating more metals, I might sit up in bed after waking tomorrow and not feel drunk.

    So there’s the title of this journal. No pressure! Because I’m so laid back if I’m left in a natural state I will simply float away.

    And yes I wrote a poem about it.

    I write to you today from a laptop that has a newly-installed Windows 10 Pro OS on it, since I have found that it’s not going to be easy to translate 50 gigs of workable Radio Reality City into Linux formats. So that was abandoned quickly. I’ll only be touching Linux again for their server OS.

    With the new year in full swing, the goals which terminate in February are approaching quickly. I found myself sitting down to begin printing Abandon Ship to find that I was out of ink. “Alright”, says I. “I’ll just swing by Best Buy after work and grab some.”

    So I do that, get home, and it’s the wrong ink. Great, now I have to double check what my printer takes, come back, return this ink, and buy a new one. Fine, I can do that. Swing by Best Buy again, return the ink I had, and get the one I need.

    Get home, and find that I needed HP’s 62 cartridge ink, not 61 like I was currently holding in my hand. God dammit. Queue the Edgar Wright montage of me doing the same exact thing, returning the ink, and then actually getting the right ink cartridge I needed.

    I feel like the fact that this happened is an issue. They don’t have a consumer printer that comes with upturned bottles of ink you can just add to? I feel like that’s the easiest solution here. Anyways, I popped the ink in, and kept its packaging so I know what to get next time.

    That in mind, Abandon Ship has officially began printing. A few copies to take to those bookstores I mentioned a while back, King’s Books (which I had been calling King’s Row, for some reason. Probably vestigial Overwatch on my mind) and the UWT bookstore are on the list, as well as the Mad Cap Tea House and the Nearsighted Narwhal. Very Tacoma heavy.

    For Christmas I got a stapler that is very long, so I can finally get the binding of my chapbooks right on the center of the leaves. It’s a very simple, dumb thing to most everyone else, but that was exciting. That’s a gateway to slightly more professional publications! Something I’m proud of! Strategic and intentional!

    Also, on the sidebar and front page, you might notice a little video that popped up here at https://radioreality.city.

    I engineered the sound, the video, the editing, took the photos of the content, all that stuff. This is the first true multi-media piece of art that’s come from the station.

    I’ve gotten it in my head that I should start finding topics to “cast” to put the Radio in Radio Reality City, since this place is pretty much lacking any kind of audio. In the spirit of that, I made a short intro stinger for such a thing, and this video is that.

    Going forward, I’m going to mix samples from the Xilent Powerpack and various radio noises I get from my own devices to make the audio behind RRC. This video includes Xilent samples, and radio tuning sounds meant to mimic the chirping of birds. These are motifs I want to remain intact as I go along.

    I was really proud of the short 11-second thing I was able to throw together in about 5 hours. The goal is to make backing tracks that I can play and read my poems over, possibly releasing them as digital downloads. First, I need to see if my equipment can do that. Then we’ll see what we can do.

    I’m a chapter deeper into House of Leaves, having stopped reading today after hitting the milestone for chapter 4. It just gets better and better.

    And today I did something I haven’t done for a very very long time.

    When I was in high school, when all the angst and bullshit got to me, I would retreat to my bedroom where I had “Somewhere Else”. It was my happy place. In canon, Reality City is located in Somewhere Else because of this. I got to Somewhere Else by attaching my ropelights to an audio-sensitive receiver, and wiring all my speakers to play from one input. I would turn off my main light, turn on something to tune out to, and drop in when I wanted to clear my head. Often, this was a song like 1981 by Deadmau5. Just sorta let me get away, in its own special way. I haven’t had the setup active since maybe 2015.

    Today my weird sodiumless mood caused me to go into a sort of mania where I built the portal to get there again. Lightheaded, I laid back on my bed and had a good long think. Stared in the mirror. All that auture, weird shit you see characters do in movies when they want to look forlorn or something (e.g. I’m a badly-written character). It helped. So Somewhere Else is alive again and I feel like that should mean something.

    Poetry, probably. So I’ll be writing again tonight.

    In my struggle to get proper printer ink, by the way, I found myself trading in a bunch of PS4 games to get my hands on Horizon: Zero Dawn. I have not regretted it one bit. Like House of Leaves, I’m barely 10% in, but I highly recommend it!

    Man, I have consumed a lot of media since my last journal. Okay, here’s another.

    Black Mirror? Fucking fantastic. I thought the original Twilight Zone was good, no if you want a good “fuck with your head sci-fi” then most certainly you go to Netflix and you turn on Black Mirror. I’m two episodes in and it is possibly one of the best shows I’ve ever come across. Yesterday afforded the opportunity to sit down and watch it, after procrastinating it for nearly a year.

    That’s it for me tonight. I need to find sugary and salty things to eat to revive my blood pressure numbers.

    This is Jake Thomas Shaw, The Host of Radio Reality City, saying thank you very much for tuning in! A lot is happening, and I hope to fabricate something really cool in the audio spectrum soon!

    Consume reality! Radio Reality City!

    https://radioreality.city


  • Abandon Ship

    Branches like masts
    Of ships sailing on
    Ocean winds.
    Leaves like cloth
    Rigged to capture
    The gusts

    Billowing bravely,
    Wanderingly,
    Drifting yet rooted.
    So the sail itself
    Begins to rip
    Away from its bark,

    Tearing cloth and rope,
    Shearing stem with breeze
    Silencing wave sound
    In the leaves
    As they cascade
    To entropy.

    Breaking masts as they go.
    Toppling crow’s nests
    And shattering hulls,
    Pieces of fabric
    Lost and drowning
    In currents of air,

    Gathering someplaces
    And marking paths
    Of the ocean winds
    So the leavers can see
    There is still hope
    In a currence elsewhere.

    Their trees now islands
    Marooned in the sea.

    Leaf sails swirl
    Like destiny.


  • Look Back

    Nostalgia wanders
    Up the mountains
    And through valleys

    If only I can
    Bring you with me

    Just one more thing
    Look back at me
    Smile happily
    Through the regrowth

    We’re in ruins
    And evolving
    Broken down and
    Building up
    In our hands
    Spilled on the journey
    Onto the glass
    Through the outer edges

    Just one more thing
    Look back
    And smile at me
    Through outer edges
    Of the glass
    Streaking in silver
    Printed tracks
    Across the surface
    Waves spilled
    From an ocean parted

    To journey through
    Reflections in water
    Passify
    Walking by
    And evolving


  • Welcome 2018 – Journal 1/2/18

    Happy new year everybody. Anyone really feel that different? Anyone feel like an arbitrary gauge of the passage of time adds to the confidence you’ll have in achieving a ‘resolution’?

    Well, cool! Anyone wanting to take that away would be a not great person!

    I kicked off my new year playing Doom and having a pirate shot of Ciroc. As we here at Reality City do. Result: I’m still pretty amazing at Doom and nightmare difficulty hurts so good.

    Seeing as it’s the new year, I’m going to lay out some goals for myself to achieve over the course of 2018.

    I want to become more familiar with vertical integration when it comes to self-publishing, and have sold at least 100 chapbooks by year’s end. Now that I have everything I need to print, bind, and publish them, I should have no problem.

    I would like to kill Mount Si, solo or otherwise. At the summit, I shall play the song “Kill Me” and also take photographs of everything I can see. So I’ll be taking my new MOLLE camera bag with me.

    I want to finish another notebook. Because that’s always thrilling.

    Epics! I love epics so damn much, but I have yet to write a heroic tale that’s over 1,000 lines, with meter, kennings, and rhyme. Beowulf being no small inspiration as I say this.

    Write something grindhousey. Because I was going to do that last March but REALLY didn’t keep to it.

    Chief among these goals, though, I would like to publish an artbook. Not specifically about any kind of art, but a combination of everything I’ve got to offer. Photography, short stories, drawings, illustrations, plays, whatever I have. Flesh out Reality City some more.

    Some of these things are going to be much easier than others, but we gotta have some breadth to aspirations. Megadeth started my year with “A Tout le Monde”, and we have 363 days to see where that sentiment takes me.

    I am still pushing forward with a desire to do something in the audio-visual spectrum that isn’t me standing on a stage and swaying while I SLAM a poem.

    Also found out that I much prefer Turkish coffee and baklava to any other brunch. It’s the hardest tea to swallow. Reality!

    If you’d like to kick your year off right, why not start with Olympia Nights?

    So let’s talk stuff. Radio Reality City turned on ads yesterday in an unprecedented move worthy of nobody getting angry over. Neat. I also did some more coding around the site to make everything a little bit cleaner and switched the background back to the June 2016 one. Which looks much better in my opinion.

    This is in an effort to see what I can do here and have it work. Publicity is a difficult thing when you’re just a tiny little website that hosts poetry and stuff. One thing I want to do is do a sort of ‘Making 101’ series where I talk about things you can do in art that work well. Almost like a class curriculum, but without the curriculum. That word is the hellspawn of the Modern Language Association and Pearson. Let’s not use it in the future.

    I took to the twitter account linked to the site and updated it to more reflect what it is. It is no longer @shawestofjakes, but @RRC_PubBot because that’s all it is. A publisher bot. So if you’re on twitter and would rather be updated about what’s going on here there, follow @RRC_PubBot. The bots will get you what you need!

    I’m also on Instagram under the username jakefuckingshaw if you’re ever curious about what photos I pose on the bottom bar of the site here, that’s the most direct spot to see.

    Hopefully I’ll see some more interaction between you who reads this and myself! I’d love to see more comments pop up here and there, as always.

    I am very thankful for my core audience of readers, so those who have consistently participated in telling me what they enjoy at Radio Reality City will be getting a special something very soon once it’s all finalized. A free gift to start the new year!

    Alright, I’m out of time for now. Thank you all for carrying RRC into 2018 with over 10,000 viewers, and I can promise it’ll only get better as everything becomes more apparent.

    Consume reality! Radio Reality City!

    https://radioreality.city for more!

     


  • Photic Ray

    Grinding away

    Siege
    Breaking

    Surroundings
    By unending
    Magma bursts

    Atop sunspots
    Simmer heat
    Boils over this forge
    As sunshots

    Wear the plates
    Of metamorphic rock
    Punch through
    As a volcano
    Through clouds

    Thermite of dawn
    And mortar strikes
    Weaponize light
    As melting heat

    Fearsome
    Roaring energy
    As fast as the
    Speed of light

    Charging with fury
    Because they can’t

    Outrun
    The sunrise


  • 2k 4 KC

    2k 4 kc.JPG

    Shot with a Canon EOS Digital Rebel XS; f/11; 1/1250; ISO-400; 55mm. 10/21/2017 2:45.

    Two-thousand what?


  • Surge of Triumph

    Tension’s electric
    As it calmly builds.
    Building static.
    Running.

    Not looking back.
    This is over
    Coasts and
    Heartlands,

    Over mountains
    And fields
    Of grand design.
    It surges:

    Flash and thunder
    Alters flesh
    And bone into
    Light itself.

    Bands of tendons.
    Now gunsmoke
    As they action
    And fire.

    Time’s come
    To run,
    Unsure,
    Wayward.

    Peaceful woods
    Of fresh trails
    And elevated
    Old growth.

    It mantles triumph
    In exodus.
    Every misty
    Morning sends us

    Off in the horizon.
    A mountain chain
    Has been broken
    By a valley.

    Kinetic electric
    Adrenaline instruments
    Tireless seekers
    Still tense,

    Ecstatic to run
    To wonder with
    Fingers on the surface
    Of maps uncharted.

    A wandering
    Runner
    Pulse of a
    Spark.

    Thick forests
    Shot through.
    Dark maps
    Set to fire.

    Plains now grand,
    Blood in the hand
    Shed to scale
    Mountains.

    Teeming legs
    Of energy
    Stood to see
    Out to that valley.

    Across tracts in
    Grasslands
    And fearless
    Into flowing crystal.

    Rivers tracing
    Down the center
    Of this grand design.

    What might tension
    Find when it
    Sings
    Through the yard?

    Summitting its will
    With static grip.
    Wind in wisps
    Cause a cold chill.

    It sees a trail,
    Unmarked,
    It wishes to
    Wonder.

    Epic tension in
    The shoulders
    And
    Tired eyes:

    Frission of kinetic
    Energy
    Will scar this
    Grand design.

    Will never cease
    To wander
    By its will
    Staring out at

    Unventured lands.
    Tension creeps up
    The spine and
    Infects the neck.

    A spark
    Radiating through
    Arms and legs
    Built of light.

    Eyes drunk
    By the drink
    That is this
    Landscape.

    Running to it,
    Time’s come.
    This is over, so
    Don’t look back.


  • Goodbye 2017

    Shot with an iPhone 5s. No specs accessible. White paint on patch, machine-sewn to leather (done by not-me).

    “A tout le monde/ A tous mes amis/ Je vous aime/ Je dois partir”

    “To be picked clean/ Of impurity/ Receiving a guard/ Drawing card and sword/// ‘I will set you free'”

    Welcome 2018. Consume reality.


  • Thumper

    Does a beetle
    Feel pain
    When it walks on
    The carpet

    And is set upon
    By any blunt object
    I can find?

    When its legs are
    Paralyzed
    Does it know
    That it’s its time?

    As it writhes,
    Does it writhe?
    Does it know that’s
    What it’s doing?

    When it slows
    After it sustains
    Another blow
    Does it know

    It’s dying?
    ‘Will it be missed?’
    I ponder as I
    Hit it again,

    Observing its
    Legs tear in two,
    It leaves them behind
    Trying to escape.

    If it spoke
    Would it scream
    To protest
    At my cruelty?

    It doesn’t bleed
    But its shell is
    Hammered
    Viciously.

    Still squirming,
    “Writhing”,
    But ever so slowly
    Fading out.

    Fading away,
    And with this
    Percussive eulogy
    I say:

    Stay the fuck out of my house.