Mexican Cooking

A good script is like Mexican cooking. It may seem like it is the same basic ingredients re-used over and over again, but really, it is the layers of seasoning and flavor built in that actually make it good.

-RTB

History of Life

It was trust

Emotion based on memory

History based on truth

Intrigued but not yet invested

Engaged but not yet immersed

The promise of a thousand missed connections

The hope from theory, thought, and more

Possibility based on fortune

And a future made of maybes

-RTB

Lynn

I remember you
Before we knew each other
Before we saw each other for the first time
Before we said hello

I remember you
Laughing and smiling
Making fun of the world
Us against them

I remember you
All eyelashes and twinkles
Seen by everyone
While you were seeing me
And not being able to see anything but each other

I remember you
Ridiculous and embarassing
But maybe that was me
But I remember you loving me
Regardless

And its been 17 years now
But I still remember you
Laughing and Smiling
Wherever you are
Whomever your with

I still remember you

-RTB

Finish

They tripped over each other

In mid thought

In mid exhalation

Both unexpecting of the other to be there

Surrounded by their inability to escape

Blinded but for each other

Incapable of alternatives

In love with it

Engulfed in it

And blissfully

Utterly Blissfully

Happy

-RTB

JB

She didn't look at me
She didn't care about me
Not really
Tango and Tease
Alarmingly Aloof
She treated me with dispose
Not caring but not uncaring
Involved but unattached
She was finished with me before I could think more
I was her memory
Before she could even fully become
My present

-RTB

The Mistress of Diamonds and Mystery

The bayonet in her hand reflected the moon upon her body like the mistress of mysterious misanthropy that she was. The blood in my bones ran as cold as the memories of my frozen December youth. My cigarette clung to my lips like a suicide jumper without cause. I twisted my head towards Devandara and looked at the bag of diamonds she held. “Where did you get those” I queried her, struggling to maintain my gaze on her gun and not the maid’s uniform her bosom was squeezed into. “These are the diamonds I stole from the corpse of my dead husband” she laughed, snarling at me every so slightly. I gently took Moses, my parrot, off my shoulder, fed him a piece of gum, and put him back in my breast pocket. I could tell, this would be no easy case. 

-RTB, My entry into the Bored to Death Worst Opening Paragraph Contest.

I'm Still Here

I gave her my memories, all of them. Every one I could have ever had the energy to make, I had made with her. But she took them all when she left. And stranded me with just... with just a pile of sand where our castle had been. And I found myself wanting. For the person she once made me be. But I could barely remember him. Because with my memories went my hope. And with my hope went my possibilities. She had it all. And with all of that she had me. Except she didn't want me, not anymore.

-RTB Entry into the Spike Jonze 100 Words or Less Contest

Hunger

Our desire to consume has outpaced our desire to create.

-RTB

In it

committed to it

hard and fast like lighning

without returns

without turns

without anything but forward

endless

ceaseless

comitted

without committing

just resigned

controlled by the lack of control

committed by virtue of resignation

involved viscerally

internally

carnally

in it

in it

in it  

all the way

everything for it

and nothing left

for me

-RTB

Yes

When I thought of you
It was never bad
Never sad
Stronger than a passing fad

And if its true
(Cuz I've known a few)
You are someone from who
I'd love to hear
"I do"

-RTB

The Gza

I find my strength in lyrics
I find my stride in rhyme
But the time it takes to find these things
Leaves me short on time

Because rhyme in stride brings no cash
It doesn't pay the bills
I can't cover utilities
With the hope of promised thrills

-RTB

Bullet Proof Youth

We are the Bullet Proof youth
We are immune to disease
Impenetrable to germs
We are unstoppable
We skip along the edge of the platform
Despite the coming train
THAT is how we live
We laugh in the face of the devil
And spit into the winds of danger
Give us your worst
You can't hurt us

We hurl ourselves
With reckless abandon
Off the cliffs of chance
Daring our parachutes not to open

We ARE the Bullet Proof Youth

We bring strangers back to our house
We make our friends wait for us
We ignore consequence
We drink too much
We download illegally
We cut corner
We hope for the best

We use our credit cards like safety nets
There is no plan B
There is only plan today
We dance like thieves on the edge of a knife
We push our luck to the end of our life

-RTB

Backpackers Code

Share everything you have
And look out for each other
And treat everyone you meet
Like you would treat your mother

-RTB

Crafted in some other country. Possibly Australia.

Playa Ritoque, Chile

Self Portrait by Richard T. Boehmcke

10 New Band Names

Muffins On Fire

We All Lie About Katanas

Powerbars and God Knows What

Who Is the Strudel?

Tooth Pulp

Chicken Rubbed in Death

Skinny Gay Hemingway

Fuck You I'm Made of Bees

Here Comes the Marzipan

Fun Imp Game

Long Island Rail Road

The ride from here to there

Took an hour at best

But I had arrived a different man

Nay

The fact that I was even a man was the most

Different

The most

The thoughtsploration that I had engaged in

Had been unintentionally incredible

Like the only kind of incredible I could be

Unintentional

It didn't quite make me incredible

Or

Halfway even

Nay

I had just finally realized why I was so unhappy

Yes

I thought the things I needed to do when

It was most needed that I do

Amazing

How amazing this had happened without my trying

My brain tried for me

Or forced me

It was a forced "to be"

But something that was necessary

And we picked up speed

Shedding angers and grudges

Sadness and tears

Well

Maybe not tears

But all those unnecessities for happiness

Emotional roughage

It passed right through me

And the only lasting impact on my body

Was a cleansing

It passed through me and pulled with

My naivete

of those nights in Beelington West Virginia

And all the weekends since

L.R.R.H.

Poor old Little Red Riding Hood
Fled her home and hit the track
Leaving her life and wolf
Never to ever go back

She rode the rails for many years
Her face grew old and shaded
She dreamt of her distant past
In which she thrived unaided

She had no home she had no goals
She just roamed further day and night
She just ended up deeper in to nowhere
Because she had thought it felt right

-RTB

Stabbing Pen

Pressed against him
For the first time
He felt it
Painful
No
Potent
Vivid
And terrifyingly real
A shot of life
To an extremity
That had been dead
For too long
Neglected by others
And forgotten by himself
Ignored and unacknowledged
And hence
Invisible
The sensation was piercing
Like an awakening
A rebirth
A baptism
A verification and validation
Of his own life
An entry to a beginning
And a beginning to a story
A story yet unwritten
A story in which
He was finally
Finally
Holding the pen

-RTB

Sydney

Self Portrait by Rich T. Boehmcke

Clasp

"Come with me"
She begged him
But he couldn't
He had already let go
Of her hand
And everything beyond it
Of her laughter
And her worries
Her insides and outs
He let go long ago
But it had taken him
Days
Weeks
Months
To let her know
To show her
That they were no longer
Holding hands
Together
It was just her
Holding his
Alone

-RTB

To The Sea

"We're Beyond the midpoint"

He said

To no one in particular

And that's what they'd become

No one in particular

And no one left to be

And that is why they fled

With no place left to go

Just some place they couldn't be

So he led them

Because they trusted him

Even if they didn't understand him

They had stopped trying

They all had

So they shut their mouths

And set to sea

Not knowing where they'd land

Not caring what they'd see

Only knowing

What they'd never see again

-RTB

Their Sins

He had arrived

It seemed as though

Nobody had seen him enter

And nobody would see him leave

His presence brought palpable foreboding

Fear in bulk

Insecurity like invisible spirits

He was haunting

They all knew

It had to be

It couldn't be any other way

They had bargained for it

They had asked for it

And it was they

Who would pay

7 Years 2 months and 3 weeks

To the day

They they prayed their sins be forgiven

And he told them

What they hoped he wouldn't

What they begged he didn't

He told them no

-RTB

10 New Band Names

Intentional Mullet

Ms. Hendershot & The Groovy Peruvians

There's No Shame in Munchkins

Ole` All Day

Cause of Death: Gummi Bears

Everything Good In The World Has Lactose

Cookie Casserole

Stinky Hippies

Drunk, Naked, and the Element of Surprise
Sophisticated Peas

Blue Tears

Possibly continuing on my theme of my failed 3 week relationship in 9th grade, I crafted this incredible love letter to nowhere. Yes I know, it's wonderfully profound. Created April 3, 1998.

The O.P.

The optimistic positivist
Never looked below his lips
And never had more than a tryst
With the things less than great

He turned his former sunken eyes
So he'd only see the bluest skies
And said all of his last goodbyes
To those things that brought him down

He laced up his most comfy shoes
So he could sidestep the heavy blues
Hearing only happy news
In his newest of new lives

He did say goodbye to several friends
The ones which he could not make amends
And though he would have chosen better ends
He did not let it own him

-RTB

Oh The King

"Another one boy!

"Another one" he cried

"Give us your laughter boy,

Give us your tears!

We are hungry for your stories

And thirsty for your tales"

The King shouted

And the Knights echoed his call

And the Queen smiled at her husband

And the Ladies in waiting smiled at their Queen

And the court swelled with applause

And the floor shook with their stomps

So the boy went on

Telling yarns of lands afar

Weaving wonders all had never heard

And he went on until the king was out of breath

And they slept

And the knights and ladies had found other places to be

None of them knew

That not a single thing they'd heard

Was true

-RTB

Direct/Local

Those emails
Like Trains
Arriving at the station
You hope
Every time
This one will take me some place far far away
But every train a local
To Here
Never any where else
Yet everyday
I show up at the station
Hoping for something new
Surprise me this time
Shock me this time
Wow me this time
The same this time
Are there even trains to other places?
Do they even come to this station?
If I stop here once a day or once a year
Would any of it matter?
Why must any of it matter?
What am I even doing here without a ticket?
Who am I wishing will whisk me away?
Who could possibly stoke my fire and push me forward?
How long can I stand in wait before...
Before...
Before I can even realize
What it is I am so afraid of?

-RTB

Spotlight

Featured: Richard T. Boehmcke

Photo: Emily J. Krasner

Paper House

Of the dimensions of time and space
Our shared versions and those undone
Spoken fallacies and shattered imageries
And a phone call cut too short

When the shine came off the apple
The curtain fell off the stage
And tempers flared red
And the seemingly unlightable fuse, was lit

With forgotten courtesies and an eclipsed view
They battled semi consciously
Doing battle
Mostly with their fears

And they singed each others ears
They broke into each others hearts
Pulling paper from the walls
And leaving shards where glass had been

-RTB

Of the Fountain

I sleep and I doze
And I wake and rose
From that place where I had been thinking about prose

Of thoughts in my head
And thoughts that I’ve said
And thousands of books that I wish I had read

So I stand here and gawk
At those people who walk
And always always do nothing but talk

So I think, what is it that’s in me
That’s better than thee
Or is it just something impossible to see

Things that are better than prose written thoughts
Actions much bigger than wouldn’t and oughts

And people much nicer that those that I know
And actions much kinder than those that I show

There are things that are out there that I’ve yet to see
And the only possibility to know what they’ll be
Is to just wait and see
Just
Wait and see.

~RTB in Padova 3/14/04

On the Train to Padova

The sun feels warm upon my face
As I sit and forget all but a trace
Of a life I’ve left behind

And I pay no mind
To the kind of fear
That may come near
As I sit and ponder the life I’ve left behind

And a choice is a choice
And I’ve chosen as such
To leave behind something that was simply too much

To live in the less
And find out the more
As I part from the things I truly abhor
In the life I’ve left behind

~RTB 3/13/04

The Jewel and the Ocean

So he bought it. Others around him did not know that there was no “her”. And he was no longer buying it for “her” as he had once wanted. Now it was for him. Not the jewel itself, but the act.

When she had left, he had vowed that if he could not give it to her, no woman should have it. For as much as he now hated her, the jewel was conceptually hers. He had already mentally committed it to her life.

He had come close to being more in love with the jewel than her. So he bought it and fled the store with nary a word.

He was running now. Clasping the unwrapped box in his left hand as he pumped harder with his right, trying to get to that sound as fast as he could. The sound of the rushing river was punishing at near distance. It was the river that moved at a pace so brisk that the bottom was completely overturned a new every day. His jewel would be washed to sea to be discovered in another lifetime.

For while it not deserve to be destroyed, it also was not to be owned by anyone else, any other “her.” At least not in this lifetime.

-RTB

Too Much In Between

Wow. This NOT overdramatic gem seems to be a representation of all the things that become between 2 people who want to be together but just have not enough in common. That is of course represented here by the black between the broken pieces of the heart. I believe this "too much" had something to do with a girl I dated for 3 weeks in 9th grade. Created March 9, 1998.

10 New Band Names

Mu Shu Revolution

Deep Royal Pumpkin

Champagne for Puppies

Kathleen O'Stein and the Steam Cleaners

A Polarizing Candy

Run Slowly & Kick Like a Girl

Peanut Butter & The Jelly Fishes

Tommy Fleece & The Feety Pajamas

Pizza and Espionage

Pelvis for a Head

The Fleeting Purple

Her eyes were open
Aware to the beauty that was her life
The purples and beige
Couldn't possibly hide
A radiance of solar compassion
Burnt and betrothed
To the beauty that was her life
Her eyes couldn't possibly close
Two suns that couldn't set
A laughter with no end
The mutual sensation of her lips
Against each other
Barely pressed
Forming a seal both delicate
And incredibly impenetrable
At least to them
At least to him
For now

-RTB

Three Stars

100 missed apologies
In which we found our fears
Amalgamated weaknesses
Compounded through the years

A sadness filtered threefold
Throughout both you and I
A dangling partial question
Of why we shouldn't try

A mixed up messy misery
Upon which we laid bare
Just items on a blanket
One thought, One hope, One care

Our blissfulness and ineptitude
Worn across us like a shawl
"Our future lies behind us"
She saidn a mournful drawl

A suitcase full of memories
And a a timeline full of never
All becuase he wasted time
Dwelling on his clever

"There are things I've never told you love
There are things you'll never know
Because these partial sentiments
Were all that I could show"

And so they left each other
Exactly as they found
Two boats that could not lose their course
Until they ran aground

-RTB

Innovation

It's so hard to be original and innovative and new
So if you can't be that
At least be good at what you do

-RTB

Palermo, Sicily

Self Portrait by Richard T. Boehmcke

S.O.I.F.

The scarf of ineffable fortitude
Tied up and closely guarded
By those of intense solitude
But left behind
Like a remaindered solution
The star crossed cravings
Could not combat
The tribal drums
Of lusting souls
Those who sought to own
To hold
To be so bold
To be swathed in the scarf
Of ineffable fortitude
And all the hope it carried
And promises made
Of the possible tragedies
That come from all the deviant strategies
Of those soulless shells
Attacking
From their own personal hells
Hoping beyond prayer
For the help
Of the scarf of ineffable fortitude
Their triumphs of the spirit
And victories of the soul
But nothing tangible
Nothing to hold
And those wounded wanderers
So dead set
And hopeful
Were forced into a gray
A forgotten rewritten grey
That stood for nothing
et. al.
And made them feel small
At first one
But then all
As they sought the help
And the cure
And the changes held
By the scarf
Of ineffable fortitude

-RTB

Don't Slam the Wind

I cannot write a slam poem about the summer breeze
It's something that does not come with ease
It will swirl and tease
And pass between my knees
And up around my hand to rattle my dangling keys
But anytime I sit down to write of it
This cool summer breeeze
Whether I'm near a river
Lake
Or blissful seas
I just can't write a slam poem about the summer breeze
Because you see the summer breeze is simply too relaxing
Melodically so
Because it does not blow for show
But rather it will pass and go
As thought it must let you know
That it does not blow for show
But rather just to pass the time

So I will try once again to write a slam poem about the summer breeze
But I warn you its just too tough
Because every single time that I
Commence to capture the speed and pounding rhythm of the breeze
I'm just forced to cease
It's simply too relaxing
My mind my race
And set the pace
For this ace
Of a poem to follow
But as soon as I swallow that most delicious air
And sit back in my chair
I lose sight of my goal as the wind picks up every single care
I would dare to share
And leave my mind a blank of quaint serenity

So I apologize to you once again
That I cannot write a slam poem about the summer breeze
I'm sorry I'm so mellow and at rest
Because at Best
I might be able to write a silly rhyme
But I'd rather passs the time
With glorious ease
Just me and my lemonade
In my hammock between these trees
So you know what...

I don't apologize
As I drift off to sleep
That I cannot write you
A silly slam poem about the summer breeze

D.I.P.

My drunken poem
Of my drunk in words
Of forgotten lovers
And digested Hurts

Of braided problems
And stark white Lies
My corduroyed worries
As my wonder dies

The seams start ripping
As my thoughts unwind
Too much vino
Leave me over wined

A local train
On an expres track
Emotional vommit
That you can't take back

Hopeless insurrection
Of a partial plan
The scatterd topography
Of where I'll land

Of pickup artists
And screaming babies
Of hot pink expression
And exponential maybes

Those ugs and snuggies
A type of discomforts opposition
Regardless, leaves us all
In the very same position

Of Jacked up Daniels
And Grey Goosed asses
Over Jim Beaming perfection
All of it, an aspirin for the masses

-RTB

The Sandwich

My monologue about my time in Istanbul when I made a poor life decision.

Tyrannosaurus Rich

This incredible piece of artwork find me using both Microsoft paint and the cut and paste feature of a scanned picture of myself to play beast master and create a very frightening creature that is apparently attacking South Park? Created July 28, 1998.

10 New Band Names

Casey Babylon and the Dutch Dinosaurs

Controlled Lunacy
Slightly Asian
Weapons Up Your Face
Ibuprofen for Life
A Hangover Named Yeti
Two Slug Explosion
Sweatshirt Cult
It Doesn't Even Feel Good To Sniff
The Beer Comes Out of Jesus

Phrases and Words I Started Using in 2003

Dig this
Bugger off
I'm keen on that
Savy?
Do we have an accord?
Boogered!

A Story

And just like that, the wind opened the pages of his book. Not just to any page, the wind is strange. Her page. Silly wind playing with his head, playing the raven to his mock Edgar Poe life. And so he read, he had to. He tempted not the mistresses of wind, fate, or scorn. They are best let to run their path. And he read, he read the page he'd read a thousand times before, from the book he'd vowed to dispose of 20 score more. He read it because he had to. It was an addiction, a habit... something just short of a tradition.

That word makes it sound too glorified... "tradition." It was equal parts joy and pain. The joy was just fleeting, reminiscing, used-to-bes. And the pain was wrapped up in it. Or maybe those memories were wrapped in pain. Liar man, they weren't happy, they were just... they just were. They were all he had. Had he something else, someone else, she'd be a twinkle in the Arizona sky. But she had; rather, he had built her a nest in his mind. And so that is where she lay, without really knowing he hated her for moving on, or not thinking about him.

He hated this damn book he couldn't throw out, this un-novel novel. He hated this redundant expeditious track to mental anguish. His whole train of thought, derailed by a simple, deliciously evil breeze. He reared back and twitched slightly, made as if to throw the book into the lake, but paused. And instead just closed the cover, tucked it under his arm, and walked away. He wasn't ready for that yet.

But he was getting close.

Summer Shifts of 2003

My life is a series of 4 hour shifts
At least in the summer of '03 anyways.
Wake up early
Drive to work
Dale Carnegie
4 hours
Tick
Tick
Tick
9 o'clock
3 more to go
10 o'clock
I can't take this anymore
Get me out of this box
10:30
I need munchkins
I'm starving
Somebody get me some god damn...
Ooo thank you.
11 o'clock
Almost there
11:45
What's wrong with this damn clock?
GOOOOO!
11:59
Freedom!

Back in the car
Drive home
4 hours of free
Kind of free time
Lunch
Email
Reading

3:30 Pool attendent
What a joke
I can't opena  band aid
Never mind save a life
Why is this time moving so slow?
Little kids in the pool
Always little kids
Where are the hot girls?
WHERE ARE THE HOT GIRLS?
Oh hell
Tick
Tick
Tick
Check the chemicals at 5 and 7
The highlight of my night
What?
Towel?
Did somebody say something about a towl?
Who needs a towel?
Because I can GET you a towel!
I AM TOWEL MAN!
Oh where are the girls?
7'oclock
I'm so hungry
Nice people
In your nice clothes
Won't you please bring me a plate?
LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M THINKING AT YOU!
Damn it
Oh Pepe` you are so kind
With your plate of sushi and shell pasta
A true friend in good service I have made
Tick
Tick
Tick
Oh sweet joy and rapture
8 o'clock has come

In my car
To home?
The gym?
Some wild party with playboy bunnies?
Per chance all three!
Alas bed time after 12
Only to extend my 4 hour days
I can take this no longer
Signed
Your friend,
Richard Boehmcke

The Future

This seems to me a commentary about me being able to glimpse my brilliant, fantastic, future but not being able to get to it because of an obstacle. Heavy right? Created March 17, 1998.

Sorrow and the Pity

Pity and sorrow are strange bed fellows, they are ok to fall asleep with, but never wake up with them for they should never spend the night.

~RTB

Wonder Years

I wrote you a poem
So write me a song
Make sure it rhymes
Make sure not too long
We've come a long way
Notched a large belt
We've been through so much
Seen, heard, and felt
Fork in the road
Knife in my back
Too little you have
Too much I lack
Choices to make
Reason to speak
Tell me the truth
Lies make it weak
God knows I love you
God knows I care
It's slipping away
See how we fare
Make a choice
Made a decision
No choice, just a scratch
Every word, an incision
No time on the clock
No fear in my soul
Time for a climax
'Cuz it's taking a toll
So take a number
And fall in love
Choose them all
Or none of the above
Side with a sinner
Or dance with a saint
Be who you are
'Cuz I know you ain't
Your heart for my flowers
A kiss for your tears
A hug for your love
My love for your fears
This moment in time
This day in your life
This friend of all friends
The love of my life.

-Rich Boehmcke, Age 17

Laughter

And they laughed

They laughed like they’d never laughed before

With tremors of hilarity

And the shine of royalty

They laughed themselves into a forgotten past

That only they’d remember

-RTB

Quote

Never assume somebody could care less, because when you do, you are telling them you want them to.

-RTB

Featured: Richard T. Boehmcke

Photo: Megan ___ Grebitus

10 New Band Names

Cholesterol Is Off The Hook
A Bedtime Purchase
We Do Not Throw Corn
Kung Pao Disaster
Platter of Homosexuality
Spank the Genius
Get Up for Frocks
Soup Fight
Thoughts of Bar-B-Q
A Very Jewish Appendage

My Thoughts on Wine

I like to drink wine out of a water glass. Not a wine glass. Who do you think you are, wine, that you must be elevated so high above the table in your receptacle? Are you better than me? Are you better than your other beverage friends? Beer has no problem standing on the table. Liqour either. Well, MOST liquor anyway. (I'm looking at you Martini and Cosmo) Why must you be so elitist? Come down to the table and hang out with your friends. I promise we will have a good time. I like a grounded wine, or one that doesn't mind having its feet on the ground. I promise I wil like you.

-RTB

Instinct

Instinct isn't necessarily truth
It is more convenience

-RTB

The Sweater

"It's cold" she said. He turned to look at her and his eyes drifted to her goosebumpy arms.

He looked her in the eye, "Do you want my sweater?"

She barely turned to him before deadpanning, "But you don't have a sweater."

He turned away to look back at the bridge. "Yea... I think I was using sweater as a metaphor for love in that scenario."

She shifted her weight before tucking her hands into her pockets, keeping her elbows close to her body. She turned back toward the bridge. "That might be nice."

He pocketed his hands in the same way. "Yea?" he asked the bridge.

There was a pause.

"Yea." And she leaned ever so slightly closer to him.

-RTB

Precious

Photo: Richard T. Boehmcke

Crap

Climb out of your own poems
The Spanish conquerer said to me
Engulfed in flames and eating a green banana
He spoke in tongues
He must have
I understood him
Though I didn't comprehend him
I under listened
So I really did under-stand him

A tiny mandolin playing potato bug stopped walking across my living room and looked up at me
SHUT UP YOU NARCISSTIC BOOB
What?
A potato bug is yelling at me?

And just like that a polish fortune teller burst in through my apartment
This poem blows he said
And I went to bed

-RTB

Pool

If you don't make waves, nobody will know you were ever in the pool.

-RTB