She asked
"Have you ever read the Bible?"
Said Mary was the mother of all
Said the gays made her sick
Then told me about some of the guys
She met and ****** on tinder
"He was from Brazil, he was good at ***
Good at ***
She dropped me off at home
There was a pause
I said "alright...have a good one..."
She stared with simple,stupid,confused eyes
I walked in the house
Sat on the bed
And I was alone again
But a little less
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 10:11 AM UTC
The morning after sunrise
Over a decimated Nagasaki
The smooth smiling
Bulletin board *****
Immortalized over
**** blood streets
You were so beautiful but your
Love was dead
You walked smooth rhythm like
Hot bullets through butter flesh
Your voice soft sweet like
House cat ripping dove's neck
And in Waterloo I watched you
Watch your father watch
Past pain fill cold beer mugs
Feel numb nothingness
Attempting to drink it all away
And you knew ALL included you
Pain passed down
Misery inherited
And when you slapped me in the snow
I knew the blow was really from
Him to you
And his wife dying of cancer
In the room across from ours
You shut our door
Poured the Carlo Rossi into
Plastic cups
Then talked about your cats
Then we ****** on the floor
But I couldn't stop thinking about
The suffering across the hall
The suffering in your grinding hips
And when I stared into your
Drunk dead eyes
I saw pain inescapable
I saw future smashed by past
I saw desperation for control through
Expendable men
I saw him
I had to look away
Outside of the window
Snow falling heavy
Bright cold delicate
It burned my eyes
You were so beautiful
But your love was dead
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 10:35 AM UTC
Inferno Arizona. 10 am.
I pick at once frozen french fries
Stare at stove with no thought.
No thoughts of no thought.
Then the phrase
"Death On A Dreary Brook"
Slips out from the subconscious.
And I am unsure of the definition of
Dreary
And I am not sure that Brook
Is really a word
I look up the definitions
Dreary:dull.bleak.lifeless.
Brook:a small stream.
Alright...
Who put those words in my head?
What wants me to know what about what?
I take a slug of hot black coffee
Rub my small hands upon my
Chewed up face
I do it all like coffee hot small face
Are real things
Like trivial mouth sounds can
Shelter me from the definite terror
Of undefinite existence
You can cling to your words
And pretend they mean something
Death on a dreary Brook.
Words mean nothing
Black crows trapped
In pitch dark caves
For eternity.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC
Vomiting in vulture circles
Waiting for a separate self,
A true you,
That you don't know you're
Ignoring
To jam dumb grunts and howls
Into your false face
So that you can be acknowledged
By the others
Picking the meat off rotting carcasses
I can't be like you.
Dance drunk smile
Screaming words
About things outside yourself
That are described by
Tombstone languages
Meaning nothing to what truly is
Ignoring the guillotine gleam
Of past pain and present agony
That make up the true coward within
I can't be like you.
Wandering mindlessly
Unpurposeful purpose
Pretending there is a plan
And a meaning
Thinking about
Kids
Cars
Work
Vacations
Upset by trivial inconvenience
Never pondering the finite mirror fool
That you will have to abandon
Or the immortality of Infinite
Thought bursts
That might actually be thought of
By a blue skinned 4 armed Lord
Living vicariously through the
Useless you
I can't be like you.
You aren't even real...
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 11:18 AM UTC
Veil of suffering lifted
Too hastily
Blind man thriving in
Infant comfortable darkness
Ripped into burning reality
I watch cheap wood paneled walls
Pop and fizzle: they breathe and battle
With true void of nothingness
The once familiar dullness of
All things
Now burstingburningburying
Who's manifesting all this anyway?
I wait in terror
The empty bottles of Mercy
Abandoned me like
Crisp Bible pages torn from
Leather spines
The truth of the universe is just
Too much
The immortality of non living object
And the temporary existant that is
Me
I want to escape:I beg for blindness
I wait
To become non becoming
The clock ties my hands and
Drags me by the feet
Through the stench of reality in it's truest form:
Suffering
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 9:32 AM UTC
Blistered bronze popped howling
Dragging egg shell through
The china of the parietal lobe
There will always be somewhere
To run to
As for now?
I smash my face in grey rain
Teeth broken by inhale
Softseagreenbreeze exhale
IsmileismileI
Slug knees bloodied inching
Toward eternity finish tape
I smile at that too.
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 11:45 AM UTC
Inhaling unsure
Heart screaming existence
Pounded like fightorflight
Loveorlone
Wake like the anxiety of
Dandelion fields finished
With their morning prayers
My love stands massive
Though trembling
As you drip smooth
Jagged wet blackrock
Choke index pointer with falling
Black curls
Belly empty and flattened against
Peach Egyptian cotton
$62.85
Ignoring life like
Pink flavored lip gloss
Like 60 text messages per day
(Oh how awful to have to use text message in a poem)
Throwing my head back now
****** wild eyed fanged cub of
A beast
Her twirling midnight nothing
Kicking smooth oak legs like
Drowning
On clean soft sheets
At 4 pm.....
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 8:33 AM UTC
Fleeing smoke;risen
Proud and delicate
Ghosts of wild horses
What IS this?
Eyes bathe
Darkness;bliss
My soul folds into itself
Gentle now
A metropolis collapsing into
Sinkhole
Gentle now; now
What is THIS?
Bluepurples burst growglow
Then vanish
More appear
Matter cannot be created or
Destroyed?
Yeah?
That hugs me like grizzly hibernation
I am ancient
Thats it!
I have been here for centuries
I remember
Protozoa ****** in prehistoric lake
The boredom of burning stars
Massive galaxies collapsing like
Waves
Yes. I am satisfied with that.
WHAT IS THIS?
Bodies burnt back to ash
An "i guess i'll just have..."
Kind of dinner for worms
To be consumed and created anew
Againagainagain again
Yes!
No?
No...
I cant figure it out...
My heart beats
Detonation countdown
After all this
My own heart will be the one
To **** me
What is this?
I don't have much time.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 7:48 AM UTC
Tuned to the local classical station
I dont know what has become of me
All the other mid twenties at work
Listen to new **** and love to dance
I like lou reed and tom waits myself
And now im stuck on this classical
Binge
I suppose i will always try to escape
The crowds
Whether it be beneficial or not
This string quartet #8 "Razumovsky"
Finishes up and i drink my 7th beer
And say
In my best classical DJ voice
"That was Frou Frouflau" with his "Twa de La La in B minor"
And i laugh alone
In a dim lit room
Staring at paintings of a dim lit man
Me
And I start to feel
This is the right place
But the wrong time.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 12:54 AM UTC
The worst part seems to be
Not being able to breathe
Its unfair
Maybe it would've been best to
Not be at all
No, this is good
But wasting it is not
Drunk on a futon
Reading Goethe
Its going to be very
Hard
To let this all go
Won't it?
The worst part about it seems to be
Not being able to breathe
But as you watch the others go
Your cats, your mother, your loves
You will be ready
Young man.
Won't you?
.......................................................................
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 12:15 AM UTC