it's our most requested feature
aka
it's our most commonly ignored request
aka
give us more money
aka
then we will maybe work on what y'all suggest

My god, your beauty is bright
I can see the halo radiating
though the clouds at night
my heart hastily pulsating

whenever we're in the same room
my eyes only gravitate towards you
I recognize that lovely ambrosial perfume
when you glance, my cheeks take a different hue

I have immortalized you through my poems
but I rather spend this mortal life
basking in your lissome arms
a drop of you cures all my strife

I want you in the flesh instead of dreams
but any thought of you is okay by me
look how the moon thinly beams
highlighting my idiosyncrasy

You move my pen, dear
and you don't even know it
to you I owe this writing career
and I am scared that I might blow it

The morning peaks through your pristine blinds
                                         already up, dressed and ready
The morning trespasses on my dusty mind
                              snooze, turn away and rest unsteady

Lunch break, out with your friends (and him)
                                      stories you tell, is he listening? (he is)
lunch break, alone still and again
                                      .....................­..........reminiscing

Night has blanketed you with Argus' eyes
                            cuddled close, watching and kissing
night has blacked out with my stammering cries
                            in bed, alone, shivering and missing

I grew up between bookends
with the holy word held between
one fell off the shelf with no amends
now the shelf is filled with words unseen

So I read of other options
now I question the thread
of these fairy tale adoptions
which have been so deeply embedded

Christian school, weekly church, prayers before bed
my childhood filled with these epic tales
of a guy who died and then rose from the dead
and if you don't believe, well, see you in hell

They are good stories, some even great
but that's all they really are
to live by them is to live a life castrate
burning bush and a man inside a whale, a little bizarre

I am not mad I grew up this way,
but now I live a life of questioning
of what's beyond the pearly gates
without all of the one sided lecturing

September 16th 2018 1:34 pm

The war started between the illegible instructions and chunks of wood. I decided to enlist, well, more like volunteered. I arrived at the camp today and met a few loose screws. They don’t have time to train us, we are being shipped out as I write this in my journal.
I hope to god I survive this thing so I can see her face at the end. She will be ecstatic to see me alive, I know she has her doubts. We can not let the engrish win.

September 16th 2018 3:17 pm

We have arrived to our camp. It’s a pigsty. Styrofoam specks cover the yard like snow and cardboard chunks are blown to bits just over the trenches. No time to settle in. Just enough to down a cup of dirt coffee before we charge in. It’s been storming all day, everything is covered in mud.

September 16th 2018 3:56 pm

Stage one has been complete. We have a wall up. This should help stabilize anything that comes after us. It was no easy task and we have been told this was the easiest part.

September 16th 2018 4:32 pm

The foundation has been completed. There were casualties. Henry, a brave man, lost a hand and had to be evacuated. We can hold them back if our aim is true. I hope there are angels watching above.

September 16th 2018 4:33 pm

There are no angels watching, only devils in the disguise of pictures with the number on the wrong side and the finished side flipped around. The foundation had to come down. Back at square one.

September 16th 2018 5:56 pm

The foundation has been rebuilt. Correctly, I hope. More men have been lost. I know this is dark, but one had a flask on his body that hasn’t been emptied. It is now emptied.

September 16th 2018 6:29 pm

The wheels have finally been installed. We are now mobile! Thank god. We can now trek over anything that gets in our way. It’s still pouring rain. I wish I could find another flask.

September 16th 2018 6:53 pm

Hooks and roll and top have all been fitted and examined over. We may have done something right for once. There’s hope that we will win this thing after all.

September 16th 2018 8:48 pm

We stumbled onto a cache of cold ones. We lost sight of our goal for a while. We are back on track marching forward.

September 16th 2018 9:17 pm

The last wooden peg has been hammered in, the last ***** has been ******* and locked. This is it, it’s finally over. We won!

September 16th 2018 9:18 pm

“It’s about time” was my only reward.

It’s ok, I came out stronger than what I was. I have scars I can tell my kids about. The blisters from using hand tools and the knowledge on how to decipher Chinese disguised as English. Useful talents I’m sure.

September 16th 2018 9:20 pm

Finishing off that cache.

Bottles of cheap bliss
drown out lugubrious sadness
replaced with bottles of ****
in this festering den of madness

at least there’s paradise in my poems
at least there’s a clean bed in my dreams
at least in those spaces I’m in your arms
at least I’m happy bathing in the moonbeam

surround by a fetid smell
with a lack of care for myself,
is my hunger even quelled
when there’s no food left on the shelf?

a roach skitters across a pile of clothes
my temporary friend that I confide in
he speaks, “Here is what I propose.
Stop thinking that you are a has been

get off your *** and clean this mess
unless you want more of my kin
stop ******* at the bottle is what I suggest
and have a little victory, a little win

you don’t have to live”

Squish

“Funny how you can survive a nuke
but not my tiny bare foot,
well you pest, there’s my rebuke
how’s it feel to be ground to soot?”

“What am I doing with my life?
Maybe the cockroach was right.”

Cleopatra and
Patroclus reflect upon
the same cursed mirror

Stories of burning in the sun
fizzle out after a couple generations
Stories of salt filling our lungs
will outlast many civilizations

The sun burns quickly
like a brief moment of excitement
that wanes away while we search for
the next blazing hit

The sea pummels slowly
like a life of enduring and remiss
beating you down day after day wholly
until you sink into the abyss

Just because you now use your spear
as a walking stick, doesn't change
your past's sanguinary veneer
men, women, and children, your range.

All for us to sing of your κλέος,
the shades come back to haunt,
your glory, your fame, your albatross.
dreams of slit throats and screams daunt.

You have given up bloodshed,
we no longer sing your praises,
now you can finally rest your head,
and the enemy thanks you for your hiatus.

Got jumped going down the alley
by a couple of bottles and a card game
Got my portrait painted finally,
hands hidden by the fancy frame

"Immortalized Sobriety"
that's what I'll call it,
immortalized sobriety
and not alcoholic

I'll tell my friends
I'll never drink again
We both know that's
not ******* happenin'

I'll tell my friends
I'll never lie again
We both know that's
maybe gonna happenin'

Am I losing my mind?
No, no just one more drink
am I perfectly fine?
No, no just let me think

My mind is soaked
in fermented brine
this page is soaked
with blotchy
                         i
                            n
                              ­k
                                  -

-ling of a remembrance
woke up in the backseat
of a taxi cab repentance
aftertaste so bittersweet
declare me in-dependance

I'll tell my friends
I'll never drink again
We both know that's
not ******* happenin'

I'll tell my friends
I'll never lie again
We both know that's
already happened

Am I losing my **** mind?
No, no just one more **** drink
am I just ******' blind?
No, no just let me ******' think

I think I might need,
I think I might need,
I think I might need
you.

There is a light that likes to turn on
when I lay my head down for the night,
toss and turn with my dreams now forgone
no matter the yawn, this bulb is bright

not with so much as ideas but, words
and small phrases that I rearrange
that will fly away and cause me nerve
so I spread their wings, pin and arrange

their beauty captured and put in frame
so finally I can hit that switch
and try to win at this sleeping game
I will wake up in a few, poem rich

and so repeats the boundless cycle
capturing metaphor butterflies
in this restlessness bed of idyll
sleep late, wake early, a compromise

It’s best to wait a while
and live
than to take a chance
and die
these were the words
my mother gave
when she taught me
how to drive
She also taught me
to do what she says
and not what she does,
now I see why.

You chased
I ran
You yelled
I turned
You swung
I ducked
You huffed
I pushed

The back of your ankle caught
on the underside of a gnarly root

You twirled
I watched.
You screamed
I watched..
You bled
I watched...
You gasped at air
I watched....

The old jagged branch penetrated
through your squishy eye
and kissed the back of your skull
blood burst and squirted
while the rise and fall of your chest slowed
and your body grew cold

A rose bush was born amidst the clutches of an early winter

I left
You haunted
I cried
You permeated
I stayed silent
You spoke in my dreams

I know they found you
I visit and leave you flowers
But I am through,
I finally convinced myself
that it's not my
fault.

I have weathered the anger
of many gods and men
But none compare to the ferocity
of a
heart
   broken
      woman

Dog days of summer
How doth thou steal
Sweet blackberry plunder
How will I ever heal?

Cars passed fast
breeze swishes trees
As if spirits
Floating so free

A whisper they hiss
run faster than fastest
to grocery store produce bliss
give those blackberries
                                  a little kiss

The blood in the bottle usurped
the blood in my veins
I love you I burped
but it was in vain

You're drunk again
why do you cause this pain
it's fuel for my pen
and I cannot abstain

I guess I am weak
with no self control
with a future so bleak
and a shriveled dried soul

It fills the page
can't you see,
it fills your rage
and that's fine with me

Today you left for good
so I bought a new notebook
and a bottle of wormwood
laid out in a small nook

Watch as these pages like feathers
fly off in the wind
lets get back together
so I can do this again

When you're immortal
all beauty is left to wilt
except your own reflection,
you can't help but to fall
in love with yourself.

Mr. Piano Man how your
fingers rain down on the keys
dancing a somber ballet
capturing the feeling of being empty
like those bottles underneath

Here Mr. Piano Man
the next drink is on me
while we sift through debris
of our melancholy

Every note stings
every chord bleeds
woe is you
and
woe is me
play
Mr. Piano Man
a song to our ennui

Let it rain Mr. Piano Man
let the storm hammer the strings
lets swim in the puddle
of whats spilt underneath

Oh Mr. Piano Man
What is that I hear?
That note that was just hit
it sounded rather queer
there is no room for happiness
at the bottom of this beer

No! NO! Mr. Piano Man
I don't want the sun
go back to stormy waters
to where you had begun

I thought you a friend
I thought we allies
I thought we understood
the sounds of demise

Mr. Piano Man how you so betrayed
with your songs of love and spring
every note my heart aches
every chord a bee sting

Mr. Piano Man this is my goodbye
I am leaving you now
please don't cry
I am going to my new friend
Mr. Bartender
How do you do?
Give me an endless bottle
and another drunk to talk to.

In the skeletal remains of the night
an echoing whimper of a frightening cry

"Daddy, there's monsters where there's no light."

I join under the covers and hum a soft lullaby

Daddy is here to protect
of all that haunts in the night
no cranny left unchecked
no monster left to fright

Sobbing, you moved your tiny body closer
threw your little arm around
laid your head on my shoulder
"Thank you daddy"
was your final sound

Eyes finally closed
breathing finally slowed
embraced and composed
your dream I borrowed.

Panicked mechanical howls
echo off the silver moon
blankets the summer crisp air
blending in with the ghosts of the weeds
and the angels in the trees
flashing lights blocading the streets
in hopes of preventing tragedy
every night it’s Hamlet out on this street
this stage has been played a hundred times
the ending never changes

I had a dream of a dresser
where the dust had settled
as if it were a snowy field
a tribe of pearly white
wind-up C l A t T e R i N g teeth
danced around stirring up dust
one pulled out a cigarette
and began talking

"If you keep this up kid, it'll drive you to **** yourself."

"No, I would never, I could never, how could I even..."

"Give it another year." Those stammering pearls said.

And I did.

I am still alive, if you call this living.

Three bottles in
after a day of the same ****.

Can I compose a poem?
I doubt it.

Maybe another drink will help
then I can be like Bukowski
who has seen more style in dogs
than in men.

Well he isn't wrong is he?

I go to work
to listen to same old tales
of how his wife
keeps falling down
how there's another gun show
this weekend
how this week the diet
is gonna begin
how this company is sinkin'.

And I agree
it's all going to the bottom
of the dark sea
and for some reason
this thought makes me
happy.

Half drowned in those wine dark eyes
drunk off those fermented words
that trickle off those lush rose lips
Calypso or Scylla, I know not
it doesn't even matter
as long as I am with you

Come lay with me and let me
Feast upon the ambrosia
And **** the sweet nectar
Of your slender body
Until we both feel immortal
And push fear aside
For one night
Then let’s do it
Again
And
Again

Fingers dance around
strings as if trained at Bolshoi
dance academy

A grizzly man just sunk a stripe in the corner pocket
Another bought himself company in a glass
One pulls out a cigarette and sticks it between his lips
Soon a spark ignites and a spirit starts to rise

Over head the hum of jets fly by

Across the street sits an old rusty park
Two kids are there, who knows from where
They look happy to be free
A dog squatting just behind a tree

The flying angels left their halo

A block down the street
People gather to watch the lighting of the Christmas tree
Some in the coffee shop
Sipping on sugar and caffeine

The halo starts to whistle

The town is lit up as to say thanks to our lord
Instruments take the stage
Rock around the Christmas tree begins to play
Children yawn and parents laugh as it’s getting late

The whistle shows his face

The festivities stop
Screams of panic fill the night
Kisses and hugs, loved ones holding tight
The smoke in the bar has risen ceiling high

The face opens his mouth and laughs out loud

Silence overtakes the night
Just for a split second before a column of bright
Cauterizes the flesh and melts the bones
Once a joyful town, now is gone

This was the third one tonight

What goes on in your glowing head
when you sit in front of your harp
eyes wide shut your fingers thread
and pluck, syncing with our heart

the way you majestically play
fills my ears with angelic tones
stunned, I can't look away
from your heavenly flowing bones

Harp forged from Hephaestus' gold
pluck and pick easy as a river's flow
soft harmonies of Philip Glass enfold
and just for a moment, forgotten woes

Everyone needs a vacation away from home
so I trekked out to the crumbling temple
of your soft skin and fragile bones
welcomed with the promise of being gentle
a beautiful landscape for me to roam

Checked into your vacant room
visited the museum of your hall
dined on wine and roasted shrooms
danced the town in a hazed pub crawl
slept in the arms of your perfume

Days swift by into weeks
weeks begin to breeze
You grab me by the cheeks
and tell me that you love me

Babe, I am just a tourist
Its time for me to go home.

Love starts with the eyes
and ends with the mouth

Every day I burn
In a shower of flame
One day I may learn
This hot water faucet game

I want you to be the paint that drips on my canvas
our bodies brush to create something beautiful

Dreaming while dying
Is the only way to catch
Immortality

Iliad book two
never ending list of ships
impressive, Homer

I have drank the philters of the oceans
inside the notches of your sculpted bust
chiseled to perfection by my minds notion
immortal beauty to never crumble to dust

Skin of ivory with curves carved by a god
my little ivory girl how my fire burns
breathless, stiff, and lifeless left me aw'd
a singular lonely lover forever yearns

Just one kiss to those stone cold lips
just one before I visit in my dreams
my lips upon yours, hands on hips
how you look while the moon beams

lighting your lovely void face
The lips how they grow so warm!
Your arms how they tightly embrace!
By the gods, a living art form
to forever love in this dark place

The words that
                               d
                                  r
                          ­    i
                            p

off your serpentine tongue
dissolves the flesh            r
                                     u    n      n
                                  b         i        g
my lungs

breathless gasping at fetid air
reckless in this never ending nightmare
derelict and disrepair
death wish traveling nowhere
except
            D
            O
            W
            N

under­ a mound of stone and flowers
twirling aimless in  buffet showers
leaving flesh devoured

by passionate winds  
soul left caged in

self-indulging bones

left to wither to dust
this is the final price
of a wandering lust
a real fool's paradise

Oh lustrous new moon
how you cradle the old

like

Aphrodite humming a soft tune
cradling Adonis whom grows so cold

How many hearts will cause a man to fume
How many heats must be enraged with fire
How many hearts will a hungry soul consume
How many hearts actually follow their life's desire

How many hearts are frozen without a beat
How many hearts are left buried in the cold
How many hearts except total utter defeat
How many hearts never take off the blindfold

These questions we may never know
until we are the lost wandering souls
in the Styx's black meadow
while loved ones are left to condole

Stream of consciousness
traveling down tin cans and a string
going on about Romulus
and ramblings, vibrating in between
half a world away
keeping each other awake
thanks again
for the company

Sometimes you just have to go for baroque in this acapella life.

Life is a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
Until the needle is lifted
and moved somewhere new