love is
your favorite song
on repeat
dancing naked
through bright hallways
with the blinds up
let them look
this song
never gets old
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Sentinal
I stand
ready to save you
from your own carelessness.
These tracks I've guarded
for decades
are as dead as my eyes
which used to wink at you
one
then the other
sharing my secrets
while you waited for me
to raise my lance
and see you safely
on your way.
Now I'm blinded by time
and this elbow is rusted
and these tracks are overgrown
with weeds
and disuse.
The children
who used to crush pennies
and balance-dance on the rails
are all grown now,
scattered by progress,
no longer dreaming
of iron giants.
ready to save you
from your own carelessness.
These tracks I've guarded
for decades
are as dead as my eyes
which used to wink at you
one
then the other
sharing my secrets
while you waited for me
to raise my lance
and see you safely
on your way.
Now I'm blinded by time
and this elbow is rusted
and these tracks are overgrown
with weeds
and disuse.
The children
who used to crush pennies
and balance-dance on the rails
are all grown now,
scattered by progress,
no longer dreaming
of iron giants.
Switch-a-roo
These are not my hands
holding this pen
writing these words.
They look the same
they obey
of course
like all hands should
but these are not mine
to command.
Some other person
has my hands
holding you
caressing you
as I once did
when they were still mine
when you were still mine.
holding this pen
writing these words.
They look the same
they obey
of course
like all hands should
but these are not mine
to command.
Some other person
has my hands
holding you
caressing you
as I once did
when they were still mine
when you were still mine.
Future
This is the generation
of wasted potential.
We the youth demand nothing
but solitude
and an internet connection.
Our best friends
are virtual constructs
of voices and pictures
a thousand miles away.
We know what you want
and what we should do
and we shrug and turn away
heeding nothing.
Our lives are fully digitized
and this "reality"
just doesn't measure up.
If we wanted to
we could revolutionize
everything
but we lack the motivation.
We see your lives
and they're the same now
as they were twenty years ago.
That is disillusionment.
That is why we do not strive
WILL not strive
for we want more
and that more is not to be had
in the world you've built.
So we shrug and turn away
and say
"fuck it
we'll build our own".
of wasted potential.
We the youth demand nothing
but solitude
and an internet connection.
Our best friends
are virtual constructs
of voices and pictures
a thousand miles away.
We know what you want
and what we should do
and we shrug and turn away
heeding nothing.
Our lives are fully digitized
and this "reality"
just doesn't measure up.
If we wanted to
we could revolutionize
everything
but we lack the motivation.
We see your lives
and they're the same now
as they were twenty years ago.
That is disillusionment.
That is why we do not strive
WILL not strive
for we want more
and that more is not to be had
in the world you've built.
So we shrug and turn away
and say
"fuck it
we'll build our own".
Spring
the sun is illuminating
freshly-hatched rosebuds
the birds have returned
with new melodies
the humans exit their caves
and stretch and scratch
the slumber of winter is over
and life can begin once more
freshly-hatched rosebuds
the birds have returned
with new melodies
the humans exit their caves
and stretch and scratch
the slumber of winter is over
and life can begin once more
Bastard
There is a man
somewhere
who has never felt
pain
sorrow is meaningless
to this man
as is grief and
loss and
misery and
that unbearable weight
the rest of us carry
on our backs
and our minds
is made that much heavier
by this man
and his stubborn refusal
to be human.
somewhere
who has never felt
pain
sorrow is meaningless
to this man
as is grief and
loss and
misery and
that unbearable weight
the rest of us carry
on our backs
and our minds
is made that much heavier
by this man
and his stubborn refusal
to be human.
Accept It
The sun is cowering
behind the clouds
ashamed
at what his light
reveals.
Today
thousands will die
give or take
and there is nothing
you
can do about it.
Stores will be robbed
and the clerks stabbed.
Women will be raped
and their children molested.
Men will kill men
over nothing at all
and there is nothing
YOU
can do about it.
So
for God's sake
stop worrying
stop stressing
until they come for you
and it's your turn
to suffer.
behind the clouds
ashamed
at what his light
reveals.
Today
thousands will die
give or take
and there is nothing
you
can do about it.
Stores will be robbed
and the clerks stabbed.
Women will be raped
and their children molested.
Men will kill men
over nothing at all
and there is nothing
YOU
can do about it.
So
for God's sake
stop worrying
stop stressing
until they come for you
and it's your turn
to suffer.
Paper Cage
You can never understand
indignation
or true anger
like napalm
in the gut
the dizziness
and adrenaline
and walking
right up to Violence
to shake his hand
but turning away
at the last second
to stuff the beast back
into its paper cage
you can never understand
how close I've come
how tempting it is
to take that
final step.
indignation
or true anger
like napalm
in the gut
the dizziness
and adrenaline
and walking
right up to Violence
to shake his hand
but turning away
at the last second
to stuff the beast back
into its paper cage
you can never understand
how close I've come
how tempting it is
to take that
final step.
Had a Great Fall
Your scars tell me
to handle with care
that you are
fragile
the salesman says
that you're stronger now
more than ever
that each time
you were broken
shattered
and the pieces
carefully glued
back into place
reinforced
your weaknesses
but these scars
so many scars
say that
each break
and crack
and split
has left you
more broken than ever
and no amount
of glue or horses
can put you
exactly back
the way you were
to handle with care
that you are
fragile
the salesman says
that you're stronger now
more than ever
that each time
you were broken
shattered
and the pieces
carefully glued
back into place
reinforced
your weaknesses
but these scars
so many scars
say that
each break
and crack
and split
has left you
more broken than ever
and no amount
of glue or horses
can put you
exactly back
the way you were
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Check That Behavior
I want to rip out your eyes
put them in old mushroom jars
filled with vodka
and bring them out
to stare at me
when I feel happy
put them in old mushroom jars
filled with vodka
and bring them out
to stare at me
when I feel happy
Embrace
The hands of Death
are warm
and loving
caressing
with a tenderness
you never showed
I still think you're incapable
The warmth is astounding
Let me die
a thousand times
before I lie
in your arms
again
But death is
a limited-time offer
a one-day sale
for select customers
and your arms are
a thrift store
offering cheap imitations
used and worn
of the best
life has to offer
are warm
and loving
caressing
with a tenderness
you never showed
I still think you're incapable
The warmth is astounding
Let me die
a thousand times
before I lie
in your arms
again
But death is
a limited-time offer
a one-day sale
for select customers
and your arms are
a thrift store
offering cheap imitations
used and worn
of the best
life has to offer
Vagrancy
Home
is where
the heart is
I find shelter
under overpasses
in dark alleys
temporary solace
from the ramblings
of a broken heart
is where
the heart is
I find shelter
under overpasses
in dark alleys
temporary solace
from the ramblings
of a broken heart
Temptation
Certain devils lie
between dream-girl whispers
and a perfect soul.
NOTE: This poem appeared on everydaypoets.com
Monday, February 21, 2011
New Midas
Food and water
turn to ash
in my mouth
everything smells foul
like liquid garbage
the things I see
are tainted
with ugliness
and inevitability
I hear nothing
but static.
Do not ask
why I will not
touch you
for I do not know
how my fingers
will disfigure you
further.
turn to ash
in my mouth
everything smells foul
like liquid garbage
the things I see
are tainted
with ugliness
and inevitability
I hear nothing
but static.
Do not ask
why I will not
touch you
for I do not know
how my fingers
will disfigure you
further.
Catharsis
You know what I mean.
That sharp pain in your chest
shows up occasionally
without notice or explanation
whenever you breath too deep.
It is the poem
scratching its way out
of your heart
and soul.
So crack your knuckles
get your pen
and write
until the pain disappears
and you can breathe easy
for a while.
That sharp pain in your chest
shows up occasionally
without notice or explanation
whenever you breath too deep.
It is the poem
scratching its way out
of your heart
and soul.
So crack your knuckles
get your pen
and write
until the pain disappears
and you can breathe easy
for a while.
Punchline
Her mother hated him
the way he rolled his R's
But a Jew
marrying a German
offered fuel
for her laughter.
The world was her inside joke
her laugh would sparkle and dance
through his head.
Everything was funny to her
even the lump
scared him more.
He followed her instructions
to the letter.
Everyone assumed the tears
were of sorrow
and loneliness
that his body was trembling
with silent sobs.
It was such
a lovely urn.
the way he rolled his R's
But a Jew
marrying a German
offered fuel
for her laughter.
The world was her inside joke
her laugh would sparkle and dance
through his head.
Everything was funny to her
even the lump
scared him more.
He followed her instructions
to the letter.
Everyone assumed the tears
were of sorrow
and loneliness
that his body was trembling
with silent sobs.
It was such
a lovely urn.
Woman's Intuition
"Tell me you love me"
Watching TV
distracting ourselves
from life
she speaks
after hours
of silence
a simple request.
I slink over, hold her,
bury my face
in her fragile neck
kissing
nibbling
anything to keep my mouth
occupied
and silent.
She pulls away
escapes
eyes full of fire
and water
those beautiful eyes
those disgusting eyes.
"Who is she?"
Watching TV
distracting ourselves
from life
she speaks
after hours
of silence
a simple request.
I slink over, hold her,
bury my face
in her fragile neck
kissing
nibbling
anything to keep my mouth
occupied
and silent.
She pulls away
escapes
eyes full of fire
and water
those beautiful eyes
those disgusting eyes.
"Who is she?"
Tinnitus
It never stops
the noise
from their mouths.
Not noise-
you can get used to noise
have it fade into the atmosphere
like smoke
barely noticeable.
Talk talk talk
you can't block it
or shut it off
this diarrhea
of the mind
the heart
the soul.
You're constantly aware
of the babble
the chit-chat
around you
all the time.
When I die,
let my Heaven
be silence.
Summer Heat
On the days when the sun was our enemy,
the heat congealed
to the consistency of idleness,
the shade just a darkened oven,
forsaking baseballs and water balloons,
we did nothing and said even less,
for it wasn't worth the effort of speaking;
we listened to the buzz of the sun
and the sizzle of our skin
and these were our summers.
The music box melodies would dance
through the heat, beckoning,
and we ran and ran until we found that
ice cream truck trudging through the heat
like it's tires were melted
(and they probably were);
our salvation was shaped like
Firecrackers and Fudgecicles.
We'd race to finish it before the sun would,
trying to lick it down to the sticks;
braving brain freeze and numb tongues
we'd savor every drop of that frozen childhood
as quick as we could, but it was impossible.
No matter how fast we ate,
the sun ate faster,
and our childhood always
melted into our hands.
NOTE: This poem appeared on everydaypoets.com, as well as in their first printed anthology, The Best of Every Day Poets One
the heat congealed
to the consistency of idleness,
the shade just a darkened oven,
forsaking baseballs and water balloons,
we did nothing and said even less,
for it wasn't worth the effort of speaking;
we listened to the buzz of the sun
and the sizzle of our skin
and these were our summers.
The music box melodies would dance
through the heat, beckoning,
and we ran and ran until we found that
ice cream truck trudging through the heat
like it's tires were melted
(and they probably were);
our salvation was shaped like
Firecrackers and Fudgecicles.
We'd race to finish it before the sun would,
trying to lick it down to the sticks;
braving brain freeze and numb tongues
we'd savor every drop of that frozen childhood
as quick as we could, but it was impossible.
No matter how fast we ate,
the sun ate faster,
and our childhood always
melted into our hands.
NOTE: This poem appeared on everydaypoets.com, as well as in their first printed anthology, The Best of Every Day Poets One
Lepidoptera
Your beauty is better off with me,
stiffened by pins and paste
in this glass world, suspended in flight,
away from the predators that wish
to lick and bite and digest your glory.
The way you bounce on the air and
dance through the unicorn-and-faerie fantasies
of every little girl should be preserved,
protected from the hungry toads;
your beauty is better off with me.
stiffened by pins and paste
in this glass world, suspended in flight,
away from the predators that wish
to lick and bite and digest your glory.
The way you bounce on the air and
dance through the unicorn-and-faerie fantasies
of every little girl should be preserved,
protected from the hungry toads;
your beauty is better off with me.
Necessity is a Greater God than Truth
How do I tell her that leaving
the front door open in her enthusiasm
to catch the bus was a mistake;
that the driver, concerned with
spilled coffee, didn’t see him
warned too late by a yelp and a thud
How do I describe that farm
without crying, that wonderful place
where all parents take dead pets
to frolic and chase chickens
and be happy and alive
in their children’s minds?
How do I explain, when she asks,
why there’s a spot in the garden
with no flowers?
the front door open in her enthusiasm
to catch the bus was a mistake;
that the driver, concerned with
spilled coffee, didn’t see him
warned too late by a yelp and a thud
How do I describe that farm
without crying, that wonderful place
where all parents take dead pets
to frolic and chase chickens
and be happy and alive
in their children’s minds?
How do I explain, when she asks,
why there’s a spot in the garden
with no flowers?
Eden
The airplane rose
like a balloon
and popped,
blossoming orange
petals atop a smoky
black stem.
A baggage handler
who had watched it bloom
later remembered only one thing:
the horrible and
somehow seductive stench
of smoldering plastic
and burnt flesh.
like a balloon
and popped,
blossoming orange
petals atop a smoky
black stem.
A baggage handler
who had watched it bloom
later remembered only one thing:
the horrible and
somehow seductive stench
of smoldering plastic
and burnt flesh.
Enlightenment
I toss a pebble into the sky and
watch the ripples shake the stars
like no man or spaceship ever could,
disrupting the light that has for centuries
gone undisturbed, some long since dead,
some long since alive,
we just haven't gotten the message;
but we will.
Soon the pebble rests in the silt
of long-dead algae, a fresh corpse
in an old cemetery, and the waters
once again rest as smooth as the sky.
The moon looks so close, so
tempting in these new heavens,
I reach out and grab for it,
accomplishing nothing; after all,
the reflection of the moon in the water
is just a reflection.
watch the ripples shake the stars
like no man or spaceship ever could,
disrupting the light that has for centuries
gone undisturbed, some long since dead,
some long since alive,
we just haven't gotten the message;
but we will.
Soon the pebble rests in the silt
of long-dead algae, a fresh corpse
in an old cemetery, and the waters
once again rest as smooth as the sky.
The moon looks so close, so
tempting in these new heavens,
I reach out and grab for it,
accomplishing nothing; after all,
the reflection of the moon in the water
is just a reflection.
Hide and Seek
For Evel Knievel
I have counted to one thousand
time and time again,
search high and low,
in every motorcycle crash
and packed stadium.
Ah, there you are,
you old devil.
Come, I've found you
and it's time to go home.
I have counted to one thousand
time and time again,
search high and low,
in every motorcycle crash
and packed stadium.
Ah, there you are,
you old devil.
Come, I've found you
and it's time to go home.
Apologetics
This poem was supposed to
answer all of your questions,
to cure your heart
of that nagging, hollow ache
and send you straight to God;
but it didn't, and it won't,
and I'm sorry for even
calling it a poem
and getting your hopes up.
answer all of your questions,
to cure your heart
of that nagging, hollow ache
and send you straight to God;
but it didn't, and it won't,
and I'm sorry for even
calling it a poem
and getting your hopes up.
Binge
She left
and he started eating
small things at first
a photograph
that camping trip
the indention of her head
in the pillow.
It got worse
as all addictions do;
whole days were swallowed
without chewing
or tasting
until all the years
and memories
sat in his gut
undigested.
He died
they said it was
heart failure
but really
he had
starved to death.
and he started eating
small things at first
a photograph
that camping trip
the indention of her head
in the pillow.
It got worse
as all addictions do;
whole days were swallowed
without chewing
or tasting
until all the years
and memories
sat in his gut
undigested.
He died
they said it was
heart failure
but really
he had
starved to death.
Down
Can't get a job
so I got unemployment.
Can't feed my kids
so I got food stamps.
Can't pay my bills
so I'm Section 8.
Hey, look at my new cell phones
with pictures of my new car
with the rims
and sound system.
It's hard, dude,
real hard,
when the Man's
always trying
to keep me
down.
so I got unemployment.
Can't feed my kids
so I got food stamps.
Can't pay my bills
so I'm Section 8.
Hey, look at my new cell phones
with pictures of my new car
with the rims
and sound system.
It's hard, dude,
real hard,
when the Man's
always trying
to keep me
down.
Jailbreak
Life is bubblegum
and now the flavor
has faded
and my jaw aches
from the lies I tell
when they ask
"how are you"
The cynic in me
gnashes his yellowed teeth
as I write this-
my fuel is hope.
I hope every day
every single photocopied minute
for a chance to flee
run away from everything
and everyone
and find what I want,
whatever that is.
Every day I look
for the rasp
hidden in this cake-
vanilla.
and now the flavor
has faded
and my jaw aches
from the lies I tell
when they ask
"how are you"
The cynic in me
gnashes his yellowed teeth
as I write this-
my fuel is hope.
I hope every day
every single photocopied minute
for a chance to flee
run away from everything
and everyone
and find what I want,
whatever that is.
Every day I look
for the rasp
hidden in this cake-
vanilla.
Vinyl
Sometimes I wish
for death
but mostly I just wish
for life.
This thing I have
cannot be called life
without irony.
I am the needle
stuck in the groove
playing the same bit
over and over
and it's not even the good part.
Stuffed Animal
This is my stuffed animal;
isn't she cute?
Her name and her face change
constantly
but she's always the same.
I love to hold her
at night
whisper my secrets
into her deaf ears.
When I'm angry
or sad
or empty
I hit her
throw her against the wall
hurt her
and I feel better
for a while
then I regret
and whisper apologies
and empty promises
into her deaf ears.
Don't worry
she's just a stuffed animal
full of fluff;
she doesn't really feel it.
isn't she cute?
Her name and her face change
constantly
but she's always the same.
I love to hold her
at night
whisper my secrets
into her deaf ears.
When I'm angry
or sad
or empty
I hit her
throw her against the wall
hurt her
and I feel better
for a while
then I regret
and whisper apologies
and empty promises
into her deaf ears.
Don't worry
she's just a stuffed animal
full of fluff;
she doesn't really feel it.
Super Villain
When concrete is poured
over the last untouched
patch of earth-
When some pair
of dirty lungs
breaths the last bit
of fresh air-
When there is nothing
new or original
or at least slightly creative;
when there is nothing
left to say-
that is when the world will end.
So I pay my taxes
smoke my cigarettes
pick up my pen
and aim for Armageddon.
over the last untouched
patch of earth-
When some pair
of dirty lungs
breaths the last bit
of fresh air-
When there is nothing
new or original
or at least slightly creative;
when there is nothing
left to say-
that is when the world will end.
So I pay my taxes
smoke my cigarettes
pick up my pen
and aim for Armageddon.
Grind
Seventh day in a row
I say having a job
any job
is better than unemployment
but I'm lying.
At work
reading Bukowski:
real poetry.
The drag of life
the grind
the scrape
the poverty shuffle.
I wish I was stupid enough
to play the lottery
or gamble.
I wish I was stupid enough
to hope
for a better
life
or a quicker
death.
I say having a job
any job
is better than unemployment
but I'm lying.
At work
reading Bukowski:
real poetry.
The drag of life
the grind
the scrape
the poverty shuffle.
I wish I was stupid enough
to play the lottery
or gamble.
I wish I was stupid enough
to hope
for a better
life
or a quicker
death.
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