The angel, Azrael,
came unto me -
he'd been drunk -
and showed me the true meaning of life
was inside of my glass:
"Swirling and burning;
a sour taste
in the back of your throat.
Something to sip wearily,
or gulp down in
devilish earnest. "
But of all things
the glass would empty
and the angel
would close His book
on us all.
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 6:07 PM UTC
I used to love these dreary, gray days
they'd lift my spirits
out of the muddy trenches
and straight through No-Man's-Land.
But today
gas
is
approaching
yellow and lurching
choking -
soldiers of the mind engulfed by
a creeping monstrosity.
The screams -
guttural like a raven's croak -
are unbearable
I was not ready for this.
I was too soft
we're all too weak.
It's a wonder
that there
is
anyone
left.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 2:31 PM UTC
What has the world become
when a projection
of a cat drinking milk
is labeled ART -
is of high enough importance to be thrown
into a museum,
next to Matisse no less!
We've lost our way when there are folks out there -
decent, intelligent people -
working on masterpieces
that will never see
the light
of day
because you
are stuck
reading my obnoxious dribble -
or staring at a room filled
with sand.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 12:10 PM UTC
How many ****** Valentine's poems will I
be forced to endure -
young love
lost love
ill-begotten love -
likened to that of a blooming red rose
thorns and all -
"Oh! my passion burns bright
like the flames in my *****
Much too cliche, I think
as I sit down to write my own
and sign it
"Yours Always".
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 12:17 PM UTC
I saw a girl today -
who I used to know -
she killed herself
just a year ago.
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 5:24 PM UTC
Whiskey in a tea cup
Porcelain and wild
Blonde and dark
She's running me amok
She swept through my life like a
tempest
Whirling and screaming and
Throwing dishes, crying, swearing -
All the things those storms do
to make you never forget
She'd destroy my home
And I'd take cover
Cursing her and that infernal
Wildness
When it stops
And the rain quits pouring
I'd look to the sky,
hoping it would all happen
Again.
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 5:15 PM UTC
One night when we were sweaty
and exhausted
I claimed that the sun rose from your *******
and set between your legs
"You sound just like a poet," you crooned
What do you know about poetry?
"Nothing, but I know you"
You don't know me for **** No one knows
each other.
Just what they're allowed to see. I could
write you
a sonnet
beautiful and verbose
and still hate every fiber of you
"And I could hate you
and your talking,
but **** you every night"
Fair enough, i thought.
You could.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 4:21 PM UTC
Lost on a rickety float
amidst a sea
of friends and strangers alike,
battered constant,
time loses meaning.
All that exists -
the crashing of waves.
On we float and bob
and sink
and consider ourselves lucky
just for not having drowned
in the crashing of waves.
We are stuck
treading alone,
having no one - yet everyone
to hold onto through
The crashing of waves
has corroded my mind filling
the crooks and crevices
of a once pure life -
So I drown, finally
under the crashing of waves.
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
In some way,
behind closed doors,
We are beautiful
And We bloom like flowers
In the dark of night,
but the sun rises
as it always does
and we wilt and
drop
like leaves in Autumn
desperately awaiting
our pitch black Spring.
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 3:57 PM UTC