February 2012
20 posts
5 tags
I against You
I put down childish things
because I am no longer
a child,
but I will not pick up
Mannish things,
because I have never seen a
Man,
he is a myth preached by
posterity as an
absent minded attempt
to proclaim strong roots
in the place of termite
ridden rot.
I will pick up a mate
though,
I will make children,
I will suit myself to bodily
pleasure by marking my
body priority #1
then I shall die
and...
6 tags
Enkido's Footsteps
I look at the two men
in the ring
punching, jabbing, hooking,
dipping, driving, looking to not
be the one knocked out cold,
so they can find their head rested between a pair
of breasts,
man was civil,
until he laid with a woman
and she made him an animal
who’s hearth was in between
soft breasts.
#353
5 tags
empty solace
My life is a constant
Jazz Orchestra,
the smooth, violence
of a trumpet in
some dead-beats stubby fingers,
all band hands digitizing my reality
at a pace unbeknownst to me,
the whole charade
uncontrollably
moves me,
quite literally.
It will end,
this is my empty solace.
Some day the noise will stop,
the fear
is
silence.
#352
5 tags
Creation Story
The public schools make it
look like
God messed up
while making a mix tape for his favorite
concubine.
#351
5 tags
A Narcissist’s Journal
I hope I die
before I loose
my sex appeal.
#350
5 tags
Ouroboros
We men are fixated on
fixing everything
except man,
the tinkerers of the
universe are immersed
in the same pursuits
as a puppy chasing his
tail.
#349
5 tags
Bobo’s Bar and Grille
I look up and the ceiling
disappears
and I’m floating into clouded
Boulevards.
Then I look back to where it
was
that I had been
seeing plush cushions gaudily colored and dimly lit
with half-drank drinks and a dozen people I
don’t know but share
the same space
with,
and talking to each other
would be strange
but sitting silently with
bottle rocket thoughts and
lighters on our...
5 tags
The Soul of a Sweater
I bought a sweater
at a thrift shop,
navigating the rows
of worn down clothes
with my nose,
I smelled deep into the soft stitching
and knew I would pay any price.
Often I can smell its pungent
odor emanating from the closet
and become aroused
at the thought of wearing it.
But I never wear it,
just smell it
and imagine the person who
had worn it before
and how they could have completed my...
5 tags
Passerby
The woman sat
in the yellow lighting,
contrasting the white
siding of her house
and the crisp winter
skyline. Out on the street I
felt colder
watching her.
#346
5 tags
me and you and the dreams we make with words
The sky ships come through
your words
and take me down
side streets of
misguided amalgomorphic
malcontents,
I found myself a pilgrim with three fingers and six loaded chambers,
the odds stacked against
but I still knew the blood
soaked dream would be the
most wonderful thing you had ever given me.
#345
9 tags
5 tags
The Circle of Life
And the tall Blondes
get with the tall Blondes
for dancing
while the magician
behind the counter
makes a buck
so the minstrel can
still sing gaudy
Garth Brooks.
#343
5 tags
Training Your Eyes
I thought a thought so
fantastic,
I hurt my eyes by
straining them to look
backwards.
#342
7 tags
The Wooing of Amaterasu
The crowd came
as they always
did in the darkest
hours before
the Sun commanded
the scope and plane,
shuffling into the
rows of hewn stone
benches,
as flaming fingernails
gripped the skirts
of the world
seeking to make
everything naked
the roars broke
out,
Man, Woman, Child
all standing
and screaming in
shared defiance or
conquest or joy
but each bellowing,
meeting the bright, soft
light with...
5 tags
The Beautiful Infection
Triggers laid down,
like VC pissing on shards of
glass
that too young boys fall into,
the whole scene
cuts me deep and
infects my chest with
tightness,
that’s how life feels,
that’s what beautiful means.
#339
4 tags
The Boulevards
Littered corpse streets fill
my tongue
and I look at you,
none of it washes anymore.
#338
6 tags
The Sickness
Black out depressions
where you won’t back
down and
be happy for
anything short
of God giving you
a sponge
bath
with angle wing luffas.
#334
6 tags
The Fire
The boy took the ashes
and rubbed them on his
forehead
he looked at the woman
she said,
“God makes you poor,
but he doesn’t make you
helpless,
the money and not having
it makes you stronger.”
The boy nodded and walked
through what had been his
bedroom,
mad at God.
#333
6 tags
Synapse
The mess
of haywired
pop culture
sexes up my
brain and you
become some big
glowing face
drawn by my 12-year old
self at the movies,
then we touch
and illusion shatters
into reality
and I don’t
know where I
am.
#332
6 tags
The Young Dead Men
They laughed at sex
and wanted sex
and posted tits on bathroom stalls
when they were too young to die
and not old enough to care,
they looked at death in fatigue
dress.
Others sent them
for reasons others
had
backed by others
who didn’t know shit.
Young men die from
ignorance not bullets.
#331
January 2012
23 posts
5 tags
The Rub
I tried civility
at first,
but it didn’t
take,
so I took my
no good prospects
to India,
enslaved a slue
of child workers
to manufacture smog
on a bloody horizon,
having them work
ninety hour weeks
making all of the niceties
my heart desired
in exchange for canvas
shoes.
No matter the
wealth I amassed
or crazy sex
orgies I orchestrated
in my Hindu
Xanadu,
I could never look
on anything I...
4 tags
The trees that walk my dreams
I woke up in an immature
wood,
with silver birches,
skinny barked bodies
painted two coats, in
moonlight and darkness,
the frost came out of my mouth
and shot down the lanes
of moonlit shadows,
the bi-polarity frightened me
beyond control,
then I woke up again
waiting for the sweats
to break as I
breathed air in a realm
which could never contain something so
fantastic.
#327
4 tags
Our Fathers’ Secrets
The sharp fall
fell into our flared
nostrils
as we split squirrel
skins and threw
squirrel kidneys at
each other in jest,
cutting off fluffy trophy
tails to nail,
smearing warm red
onto ruddied cheeks,
making ourselves into
warriors from past
times,
trying to fill out the shoes
and shirts our mothers
had bought for us
in forethought,
slapping arms and
making jokes with
meanings only our
drunken...
4 tags
I Cried Maroon Tears
I cried Maroon Tears
to the old ones,
they cupped
hands and drank
my sorrow.
Maroon Tears came from
between your legs
and I reached
down touching my face
with the warpaint of
Hotel Sex,
not having to clean
the sheets
drops the pretense
of using a condom or putting
a towel down or staying in
the shower so we can
make warm red water
on off white porcelain.
We made room
46B a bloodbath of
momentary...
5 tags
Matchstick Hearts
After long days
in front of the flames
and the metal sparks
I would find you expectantly in
the springs by the root of
the mountain river
and together we would drink each
other’s crispness with parched lips,
it bothered me when you left,
the ones that leave the soonest
stay with me the longest,
but as an old man I can
look back and not mind so much,
but as the young man
it burns matchsticks in my...
4 tags
Barefooted Souls
We walked
through parking lots
barefooted,
like sinners on
blasphemous knees
genuflecting on rice,
we had our own
holy lands then,
picking up broken
beer bottle relics with
our barefooted souls.
#322
4 tags
Posterity
My father took all of
my dreams upon
birth and
stored them in and IRA
account,
so some day maybe my children
will have them,
inflation and interest aside.
The hook-nosed
banker holds a key inside
his kerchief pocket,
when I slit his
sleeping throat a
little blood got on it,
making a funny sound inside
the twice bolted keyhole,
I took out what was mine
asking my dead father’s
forgiveness and...
4 tags
Twist Top Talk
Man did not want
to talk to each other,
then they distilled
potatoes and mashed fruit
to let it sit under the ground
and become potent,
this was the slavery our
forefathers imposed on us,
commonly known as
social drinking.
#320
4 tags
Iphicles
I hope he had a hobby
from which he excelled too,
maybe pottery or horticulture.
Or he made nice
figurines with
manicured features carved out of
hardened clay and he used chaff
for hair and wove clothes out of
wheat shafts.
It must have been hard on
him to deal with that kind of
competition.
Maybe he developed an alias,
shaved his beard and
moved to a new land.
Where he wed into anonymity
and left...
4 tags
Cinnamon Dreams
The field of cinnamon,
crisp,
the maroon powders the vision,
a smell so intense nostrils exist
alone
and everything else:
hands, legs, hair…
is cinnamon.
#318
4 tags
Will I Be Like the Wind
Soon the wind turns
cold, making bare, grey skyline ,
will I be the wind?
Some day
will my children look at my
habits as fumbling dumbly about,
bedraggling everything,
as one large farcical being
nose-diving towards the end?
Is the frowning upon one’s elders
what spawned so many maxims attributing
them wisdom and deeming them respect-worthy?
Is it why an Indian’s grandchild greets the old ones
by...
4 tags
Orator
They’ve always had people like me,
just named differently,
bard, poet, orator, story weaver, teller, gypsy, medicine man,
my counter parts I imagine
spitting out their foreign
tongued words splitting child
and adult mind alike with
the sheer terror seeping out of
his mouth into the air,
tribesmen gathered around fires
looking at one man who shines in the sweet
sweat he baths hisself in.
Telling of...
4 tags
Oh the Rooms you will Know
There will be rooms for you lad
The rooms will be happy or sad
Productive and degenerative and indifferent
Long hallways with too many doors,
You’ll choose a lot of wrong doors before you get
To the right one,
You’ll regret the doors you’ll never find,
There will be rooms with friends
Filled with boisterous laughter and you’ll get drunk on the delight of it,
Smoke filled or dank or putrid,
As...
6 tags
Three Farmers
The plump tomato juices
would matte our red
beards,
but it was a beautiful taste
and we knew
that if God was looking
down at three
tanned, taught skinned bodies
with blue kerchiefs tied tight around sinewy necks
matting tomato juice
with luscious smiles onto
luscious red beards
it would be a beautiful sight as well.
#313
5 tags
The Fountain is Temporary
We took the pills
out of the Fire God’s hands
to find our Spirit Animals,
hindsight speaks later and tells me
it wasn’t my best idea,
as I wake up a waifing wasted wastrel
three years later with Rats
gnawing on your hands
while my Spirit Animal
has crawled into the cracks of yellowing
wallpaper,
left for dead by my own soul,
fucking traitorous spirit animal.
#212
4 tags
The Orator
My hand reaches
and the sulfur preaches
to my flared nostrils
I hold the enflamed matchstick
still against my chest
waiting for it to recede into
Darkness,
people honor the fire I’m
holding,
the power and beauty of flame,
but in mine eyes it only
accentuates the inevitable
Darkness,
the calm of inevitability,
I take solace in its vast
reaches
using the etch-a-sketch in my
brain to draw on the...
4 tags
No Doc, I don’t think you got pills for this
I was with a girl one night
finishing the formalities of eating
we moved onto the formalities of being
interested
in each other
and quite suddenly,
I noticed a horrible, gut-wrenching thing,
I made a statement, which was supposed to be funny,
but wasn’t really funny,
and she laughed. Not only did this impose
importance to meaningless wit but also,
her laugh, her boisterous, preposterous laugh
was...
4 tags
A young man meditates in the chapel
Flower patterned dress,
clear in the sunlight,
opaque in all the right places.
Whore was all she had going
for her in the looks department,
but she wasn’t a whore.
So instead, she was a pity.
A pity which would grow closer to God,
but be very much alone.
It made me sad to think about,
being lonely and pretending not to be,
and it made me angry to watch.
A ferocity on my heart strings
was Ellie May...
8 tags
Grady Sheen and God
When I first saw God,
I was shot in the head
by the one-eyed-man
the villagers called The Argonaut.
Upon waking, I found myself telling
to the stable hand Yates
all of the dream,
where I had been waltzing
on God’s thumbnails
with a she-wolf.
Yates said the Angels had touched me.
Now when I look back,
I can’t remember all the questions I had imposed on
my Creator,
for I had no questions to ask,
I...
7 tags
The cunning linguist
I have erections dreaming
of scraping my sharpened quill
over thickened wood pulp,
dragging blood lines of black
octopus PMS
pools,
or the ways to chisel with rock
onto rock,
making soft indentions at my leisure
and pleasuring myself to the symbols of
my imagination’s fancy,
or hearing the delicate click-clack of metal
letters from speed riddled fingers
pressing onto ink ribbons making...
6 tags
The High Times of an Existential Astronaut
The universe
slits my strings of
malcontent
leaving me at the
mercy of no more Gippetto
and having to take hold of
mine own fate.
I plummeted as far as
conceived.
Screaming and spitting
spinwheel dreams
shimmering and
glimmering the
obscene
recollections I have for
what it was like in my
forefather’s time.
Predicting
what it will be in my forbearing
son’s time
forgetting what it should
be like...
7 tags
The Sun and the Sky and the Earth
The Sun will stop,
then stay for three days,
and come back a new
sun.
Said the Sky to
the Earth.
We shall have new faces
for a new year
to see new things
with old movements
and ubiquitous intents.
Said the Earth to the Sky.
They were silent
having been too long in each other’s
company to waste words.
#305
6 tags
The Mute
In college I was a mute,
that’s what they called an Undertaker’s Assistant.
When it all becomes too much,
the kids, the wife, the boss,
the appearances.
I don my black suit,
buy some flowers,
then slip into the lamenting
family members
lamenting a dead man in carved
dead wood with a carved
dead face,
I weep into neck crooks, on shoulder pads, into bossoms,
letting the relief pass over me,
gaining...
December 2011
30 posts
6 tags
Winged Narcissist
I will not be the moth
with too many holes in my
wings to fly.
I will live beyond
expectations,
I will not be mediocre.
There will be no holes
in my moth wings.
The shiny grey, polka dotted
and speckled with black,
shall leave an impression
on human eyes beyond that of
a naked demi-goddess brandishing
a flaming wheel of firefly eyes
whilst waltzing with her demi-god lover.
I will live forever in...
4 tags
Ecclesiastes For Crack Heads
That time I had three hundred dollars
worth of Crack
and a head full of superstitions,
yelling at mama as I walked
out the screen door of Louisiana backwoods
childhood,
I pawned the last piece of my
soul to the devil behind the
counter of Bayou Pawn,
buying a nothing I mistake for everything and
ultimately I am
spawning hatred for the next generation
as they look into my pocked face
lamenting a...
6 tags
The Owl and the Mouse
One day,
the gypsy grandfather had
to tell the gypsy children
why the gypsy father was put in jail.
“Children
Once upon a time,
an Owl caught a mouse.
The mouse yelled at the
owl to stop, stop eating me
and crushing my bones,
the owl arched an eyebrow,
finding the mouse peculiar for
having the capacity to speak,
so half uneaten,
the mouse was placed on the branch
from which the owl was...
3 tags
Dreamscape
Across from the Emerald palace
Dorothy beckons,
calling forth Golden Brick
dreams which pave a way
for my beautiful muse.
Dressed to the nines in snakeskin
shining in a light like the
sun but more so
as the vision burns
into the Disneyland of my soul.
I pride mine legs
and run free towards her
(wanting to grunt into a pillow while she stares at the ceiling)
snakeskin form only
to be impaled
by...
5 tags
A warm wall and a calm mind in old age
In the afternoons,
I would sit with my back to the wall
on the East side,
so it would be warm from the radiating heat the sun had
distilled onto the concrete
but I would still be in the shade,
the orderly, Tom, who I had made a small
friendship with would buy me tins of
sausages with the small coin I would provide,
I could not smoke anymore, not a pipe or a cigar, the taste had gone, nor could I...
5 tags
Partial Custody
He pulled his daughter’s headphones
out of her ears and said
Have you ever simply understood
the parallels between Old Men
and gnarled Oak Trees,
has it ever occurred to you that the answer is in sorting out
the terrible thoughts which we seek
to scatter with noise,
the thoughts which we attack with mutated of
flamethrowers which retard able minds
that all the TV shows and Bubble Gum Pop...
3 tags
What Mama Jean didn’t know
During the summer time,
we would run errands for the
business men
by the wharfs and get nickels,
sometimes we would each get a couple
of moon pies
a cola and as many peanuts as we could
stuff into our pockets from Mr. Santos’s store,
the spend the afternoon shelling peanuts to the fish
kicking our feet in the water,
Mama Jean always said it was a waste
but Mama Jean didn’t know how fun it was
to...