ching, ching*
Two men walk into a local cafe.
A city boy, and a Townsman

The cityboy sports
Slicked up hair.
Blue button up shirt,
Grey slacks.
Dress shoes.

The townsman simpler.
Brown hair.
Orange T-shirt,
cargo pants.
Work boots.

"Hey there!" Says the city boy.
walking up to the counter.
"Do you ladies have different roasts of coffee?
Or do you have just one kind?"

The Register girl looks at him sideways.
"What are you talking about?"

"I want a black light roast if you have it. Also, two shots over ice."
He hands her his travel mug.
"What's this for?"
The girl fondles the travel mug.
"I'd like my coffee in that please."
The manager puts a hand to the girls shoulder.
"The house coffee is a light roast doll, give him that."

"Cream and sugar?" Asks the register girl.
"Oh god, please no." Laughs the city boy "Thank you."
Handing over a credit card.
The register girl does not understand
what is so funny about cream and sugar.
"Cash?" Says the manager.
"Is there an atm? I can only offer this, but I know how to change that if you point me in the right direction."
"No ATM. We just Offer a discount for cash, we'll take your card." Says the manager.
The city boy waits for his drinks.

The townsman, walks up and says
"Coffee, please"
The manager hands him a paper cup with coffee, cream, and sugar.
He pays them in cash.
smiles, nods. Says: "Thank you"
Then waits for the city boy.

"Here's your sippy cup."
Says the register girl.
Handing over his travel mug.
The city boy stands there waiting patiently.

"Are you waiting for something?"
"Yes. my two shots over ice?"

"Oh I put it in there."
"Could I have two shots over ice please? I'll pay for it again if you forgot."
"Oh we don't have an espresso machine.
Our shots are like a syrup."

"Oh... Is there syrup in here?
I just wanted two shots over ice."

"Well like... I mean our prices are so low anyway, it's no big deal, but we don't have an espresso machine so..."

"Sorry" says the manager.
"Thank you ladies." Says the townsman.

The cityboy grabs the townsmans hand.
They leave the Cafe.

The city boy sips his
Botched coffee.
"I've had good, bad, and know what I want.
I don't want to be seen as difficult because I'm educated."
He tolerates it.

The townsman sips his
Familiar Coffee.
"Sometimes ignorance is bliss."
He enjoys it.

His car engine hummed as he sit,
Headlights shining through the dark onto the stone step.
Music softly bumps the night as she descends the doorway.
Curly full brown hair.
Bright green eyes.
Pink sweatpants and a flirty bathing suit top.
He had never tamed one of these before.
Usually he finds cute neon haired creatures
With drug habits and back stories.
This girl goes to bars.
She's had two kids.
She knows what she wants,
Tonight it's him.

They Park before the covered bridge.
Sit on rock by the water.
Full moon beams down and brightens the night
She speak of how the full moon
Makes the old folks at the nursing home go Zombie horde.
Wrinkled outstretched bone sacks moaning and crying.
He speak of how their jobs complete opposite.
She helps old ladies, and he cons them into
Buying vitamins they don't need.
He notes how before they even met
She was already fixing his mistakes.

Splashes and giggles are heard across the way.
They follow the sounds of adventure barefoot.
Stumble upon two lovebirds and a rope swing.

The lovebirds call at them.
"Join us!"

Various hunks of withered rope are tied off
Macgyver'd in ways that look dangerous.
There no platform or solid ground to stand on.
The girl confused as to how exactly one could use this thing.
She tries
She goes swinging right for the tree.

The boy stands on the sandy ledge and cringes.
Taking in all his surroundings.
Rope swinging, he notes,
Is not something he'd be good at.

Splash

The lovebirds heckle and cheer as he stand there
Realizing it appears like he's going to jump.
The girl, rises from the lake clumsily
She drenched beautiful disaster.
"That was terrifying"

The boy steps back from the ledge.
"I don't think I'm physically capable of doing that."
He embarrassed.
The lovebirds laugh at him as they leave.
"I feel bad for the guy" they say.

"They were kind of bullies" The girl says about the lovebirds.
"You think so? I like them." Says the boy.

They pack the sandy clothes into the car.
Head back to stone step.
Girl invites boy inside.
They lay on mattress
Watch "Orange is the new black."
A dog sleeps between them.

They pet the dog together
Occasionally brushing fingers.
Awkward fumbling shyness
She'd never had a geek before.
He's the first one to sit here like this
Usually she's already being objectified.
He cared enough to talk.
She never realized how impatient she was.

She changes into pajamas.
He doesn't get the hint.
She gets up and lights candles.
He still doesn't get the hint.
She turns her back to him
The boy sets an alarm for 5:00am on his phone.
He has work at 7:45
He puts an arm around her.
She is comfortable.
She is waiting.
He's too respectful
The boy is happy to finally have found a girl he can wake up next too.
He's so happy that he never falls asleep

The alarm goes off and the boy says goodbye.
He finally kisses her.
He thought it was a goodbye kiss.
She had other plans.
Soft hands slip down and undo the boys belt.
Finally, the boy understands.
He moves on top of her.
"Do you have... uhh.." the girls hands make an awkward balloon gesture.
"N-not with me... I have some in the car, should I grab one? or just leave?"
The girl looks desperately at the boy.
"Go grab one."
"Right!"
He steps into the unfamiliar kitchen and starts walking down the staircase to his car.
"This is uncomfortably awkward" he says
Grabbing the Trusty Square Artifact.
Return upstairs
They kiss again.
She starts to remove clothes.
He unwrap the good decision.
Suddenly they hear screaming on the T.V.
"NO! STOP! Stop it! NO!"
He looks at the television and sees doggett's absent eyes look back at him.
The boy looks back to the beautiful woman below him.
He sits back, defeated.
"I'm sorry but it is apparently not in the cards tonight."
"I understand. Wow." she reply
He awkwardly place the opened ****** on her dresser
The boy kisses her goodbye.
The girl lay there thinking about the night.
How terribly the night ended.
How she needs to call that boy again.

the darkest of my fantasies whisper
Your body is a scuba suit
insist i breath with your *******, through your mouth
dive deep into claustrophobic waters, sink heavy to the rock bottom
where we petrify by gorgans gaze
i know we'll turn to stone because, of course, the gorgans can't resist gazing at You
nobody can resist gazing at You, land or sea.
Our permanent legacy, lost under layers of life
barnacles clinging, moss burying Our chimera god/snake skin

i am without Your oxygen
when breathing would terrorize the wind
where words belong
still, my forked tongue writes

i'm a theif to say i only want You to be happy
when i had You, it was still selfish
the revolving doors of pain and perseverance
more time invested in us
then money invested in the Pills that kept me from killing You
out of habit
You begged me to beat You
it's been seven hands dealt
rubbing my 5 o'clock sandpaper chin
on the tarot card of death
my tolerance for vacancy
a brownish red stain
i've only the thin line of medication between necrophilia and sociopathy
i want to lay with You at the bottom of the sea

the Pills... where are...
please no, God.
The Voice,            run!
         get out!

I would gladly go to prison
to **** your lifeless body.

I would gladly **** Myself in the afterglow
of your affection.

there is only one true Sin, Objectification.

I indulge relapse
in every memory, find

your shed snake skin
pull it on, like your *******

how disturbed I've become
with you gone

how selfish of you

of course "I" blames You
when the Pills dull

i indulge by studying Your location

i know where You escape too
i want to go there
does that scare You?

i want to bump into You
apoligise for what i want

"want" as a word
is like plexi-glass, or kevlar

standing between Us
keeping the bullet safe.

i want a hard impact
in a school hallway

where we drop all our
Books and look up and You

see my ghost, that would be enough for Me

i want the impact to hurt.
i want the tumbling of all our Book's
i want the messy hair and ripped knees,
then Our
eyes to meet
and linger
I want to watch the fear fill you.
i want to sit there,
watching.

petrify from parcel tongues
as i gaze at Your gorgon body
shedding skin

if i shed my snakeskin,
maybe i'll see You

i can't leave this Poem
i can't leave this Poem yet
i won't leave this Poem
please kick me out
Poem
Poem
end Me
..
end
.
I
..

There was a time
I opened my computer in highschool
Searching my browser for you-tube for the first time.
I opened the website for U2
The band.

It was not for another month I discovered the video search engine that is so engrained into our culture today.

I saw a 5 year old navigating you-tube today.
They were watching a cat be abused and giggling.

I wonder when curiosity died.
Perhaps after it killed the cat.

Grandpa?
Tell us about the flowers again.

"I don't like to tell those stories anymore little Bug."

but you write allll your poems about the flowers
you have so much love in you papa!

"I don't remember the flowers, Bug."

you have to remember the flowers!
you spent years telling the world about them on stage!
How the sunflower invited you to an occupied bed
and you stayed there for shelter
imagined a future with her, another child
But You found your child in the pansie
when the sunflower left for Hotter adventures.
You really loved the pansies Grampa

"Yes I did, more than anything."

Every time you met a flower you left them for the pansies!
the pansies are so pretty
they had you obsessed grandpa, you were addicted you said!
how they smelled, how they felt on your fingers
but they were always getting into danger and never listened to you
they made you feel like you were broken
and they were withering away
All of your flowers always went without eating grandpa!
why didn't you water them?

"I promise you bug, I watered them plenty."

crying on them doesn't help grandpa,
you needed to feed them

"I fed them plenty"

Did you feed them enough sun?
you always said you kept them in
with the windows shut, that's why they withered
until they all left you for the sun

"The sun left me, they didn't leave me for the sun."

No the forget me nots took the sun from you
you said that a lot
how she stole the happiness from you and gave you this poetry
how you really can never forget her
and you hate that it's her favorite flower
because it seems enchanted on purpose to haunt you.

"Let's talk about a different flower"

Ooh the daffodil didn't eat either
she wrote poems about it! and she even wanted to plant a bunch of poison for you
she kept coming back too! all the flowers came and went with the seasons
she gave you so much that you practically died when she left
you were poor and got sick from not eating
crashed your car and tried to **** yourself

"these aren't casual things you should be talking about in passing with your grandpa bug"

but it's all in your poetry!
the pansies really loved you grandpa.
The sunflowers gave you Charity because it's what they knew
The daffodils supported you when you both needed each other
the forget-me-nots are the reason for all your trauma and will stick with you for the rest of your life
but the pansies kept coming back because they loved you
you didn't offer each other anything other than love
you didn't drive each other or pay for bills
you didn't even like to go out but you did, because it was a reason to be together

What's your favorite Flower Grandpa?

"I never had one when I was asked"

when was the last time you were asked?

"when the pansies first told me their name"

what did you say?

"I said goodbye...
but not for long
you know me and the pansies"

Miles of indigo ocean floss the urchins from its rocky teeth
cracked, aged, sturdy

like our captain
unwavered by the changing tides
wrinkles deep in his eyes
skin dry from the salt of the blue.

The ship a knotty brown, pointed like a tri-corn hat. Roguishly handsome like it could Woo the sea.

Our captain sang stories
of the ship's past lives before its soul
settled into our vessel.
His adventures hearing mermaids
Lured under to their beauty.
Most men be tranced by their call
lost forever in their seaweed chains,
not this Stone-hearted Charmer.
With swiftness of a thief
his smirk toss the sirens under his thumb.

Johnny Two Leg sticks his knife into the lid of a large barrel
prys it open.

Maggots wriggle under the dark of it's planks.
Rot cotton forming in their crevasses.

"Another day another barrel" Johnny sigh to himself
lid clanking against the deck.

This will be the crew's rations.

Sing songing men with their plenty red wenches toss back tankards on board.
Their song isn't flashy,
not even practiced,
they just want their tales to be heard.
A chorus, or chant repeats between stories.
Some simpler, some scary, some tall.
Each member of crew taking turns with their voice boxes, scratching the black liquor walls.

Johnny Two Leg plunks the barrel center of the crowd
a loud cheering erupts.
The poor boy who was staged on a chair belting limerick of his most recent love affair has his stool politely kicked, knocking him prone,
causing a nearby member
or four to laugh.

"If a man is a song, is he really dead?"
booms our captain through the bustle. touching Johnny Two Legs back,
giving a smile as he walk past.

We form a line as he hand us vials from the barrel

thumb the frosty glass
pop cork unleashing purple mist tendrils that spiral round like a serpent's tail

look to our captain in devotion
who holds his vial out proud.
Johnny Two Leg stands prouder,
glowing for the captain.
The poor boy stand bright eyed, clutching.
Together we swig back the poison

give our souls to the next vessel
be it castle, sword, or ship.
They'll sing about us
of hearts calloused harder than oceans teeth
voices louder than the reddest haired *****
passion hotter than the fires of hell.

When their lungs grow tired of our song, remind them
'fore we faired the sea under their new flag
we breathed oceans of wisdom
devout to this Knotty Tri-corn Rogue.
May his story never die.

Why am I still ******* to you?
I hate that you're beautiful.
that I'm too weak to delete this picture.
That the most intimate thing left of you
is your body.
After four years of living out every fantasy.
A home,
baby,
making dinner,
fighting,
making up,
waking up next to you.
All i'm left with
is this carnal desire to possess you again
like you used to belong to me.
And isn't that the worst thing.
Isn't that the whole reason I left in the first place.
Because we both knew that nobody belongs to anyone.
Yet after all my grieving
All my lovers between now and then.
This is the memory I cherrish most.
This last chance to steal you.
When we were already breaking We thought it might save us.
How foolish we were.
See in the picture you can tell we were breaking.
Your eyes begging to forget.
Just like I beg to forget you.

The first time I saw you walk into a room
I deleted all the naked photographs of my ex lover in that instant.
Just in case you checked.
Just in case I flirted with you.

No girl has earned that same memory.

It belongs to you.
See, memories you can claim.
But not people.

The time you refused to accept
blankets between us and the cold ground
of our tent would keep us warmer
than piling them all on top of us.
That we can keep.
That mistake belongs to us.

The night we took this photograph.
The curvature of your hips.
Your arms hung dead like the maronette strings snapped that day.

That's a memory That i've captured.
See, even though you're gone and I don't have you.
I have this picture.

Why is it that i can go every day of my life loving people for who they are.
Seeing their dreams and past lives.

But with you
Blood.
I see this carnal need to devour you
like some delicacy.
Some favorite dish.

I hate that you're still beautiful.
I hate that you turn me into this monster.

One who sees girl as flesh not human.
Bones as shield not structure.

And it's only you.
This one thing i hate.
Who I need to ****.
Who I need to possess again.

I'm so glad I left you.
Glad I killed the monster.
But I can't delete this picture.

Every lonely night That I would cry alone and miss you, I don't.
I crave you instead.
Claw into your flesh
pull out a still regretably beating heart.

I feed it to this beast.
That demands you dehumanized.
pray I never see you in real life again.
fear that may be the last day I'm human.

I once saw a winter tree
With **** skewered on each branch
Next to the road
In the front lawn
Of my elementary school crush.

I once melted a coil of her hair
On a lightbulb
In her attic
I still remember the smell.

I do not remember the smell of the tree
I imagine it smelled like ****.

I once watched return of the jedi

On a pulled out futon mattress
While my elementery school crush
And her two younger sisters
Explored each others bodies.

I ignored them.
I also ignored Carrie Fisher losing her entire planet.

Instead I watched their mother lose a game of majong on her dusty grey computer moniter.

She then sold some of the hoarder stash lining their walls on ebay.

This is where I learned to observe.
Being a fly in the tar pit is more honest then
Being a fly on the wall.

I do not remember the smell of starwars

I imagine it smells a lot like a woman
losing a game of majong.

I imagine it smells a lot
like sweat
and tears.

Under heavy fire from enemy forces
I hide behind a concrete barrier.
Blind fire spray
take out a man and a woman.
tumble behind a wall, pop up
Shoot a third.
run down a corridor. Spot a fellow soldier
"group up!"
as we Charlie's angels back to back. He immediately drops to the ground.
"Evan!" no time to mourn. I'm in cross hairs
run down a tunnel watching my back.
Turn around to spot the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen.
Wearing the wrong color.
Tread quietly up behind her.
before she can even see me,
hold hip, hand tangled in hair,
kiss her against a barrier.
while she's stunned.
We lock eyes and exchange smirks.
I Shoot her.

"You fight *****!" she screams, as her vest beeps and recharges
Coming to life just in time to get revenge before I'm completely out of site.

when the game was over we
told war stories.
"We need to do that again sometime!"

They are Immortal.
They are dead inside.
They are pale.
They often sparkle
but naturally don't.
They bite necks.
They are nocturnal.
They are out for blood.
They enthrall people effortlessly.
Their loved ones are often dead
or being mourned
while secretlly alive.
They act like the cool kids.
Or the awkward emo clicks,
but are treated like this exclusive club.
They don't show up in mirrors
because this IS their reflection.
They don't let the real them see the sun.
I am reflecting.
On.

Why.

Why have I only dated vampires?
I'm loosing lots of blood.
But
What am I gaining?
Besides y'know...
their blood diseases.
And lots of exciting! moments
That belong in movies
that would get
or already have gotten
way to popular.
And be better as books.

Some of them can throw me across a room.
Some of them love to count.
some of them seem to only show up around halloween and looove chocolate

Don't get me wrong.
I still love all these terrifyingly
Seductive temptresses.
I have a type.

But I don't know if it's A
Or B
Or O negative?

I'm an optimism ******
Oh, Positive?
I'm not afraid of needles
But they're afraid of me.

I tend to be a universal donor.
Which makes matching blood hard
Blood that works with my body is rare.

This is not to say anyone
could use my blood
Universal donor or not.
I am infected
with a blood disease
It could be vampirism
Or well, whatever causes one to seek
Vampires.

I Can't confirm anything about wooden stakes
Or decapitation or garlic.
But i can assure you setting them on fire doesn't work.

No matter how hot or fiery I make them
Their anger never kills them
It just makes them stronger.
But it does repel them quite nicely.

Of Drained batteries
The white plastic robot that uses them
The pink and poppy wallpaper of
Tiny bedroom the robot sits in.
Child too grown to want pink walls.
Doesn't want the toy either
Not since the battery died
Overalls tucked into boots tear down pastel gardens
Paint over the chipped glue in beige.
The Dreamer
Of a drained battery
Of a toy.
Sees the walls from memory now.
Won't open her eyes in the bedroom anymore.
wear beige anymore.
This robots Batteries are hard to replace
Beige Is difficult to charge.

I heard, he gets super social during the winter,
and then lives the single life during the summer.

I heard he's a social butterfly,
charming as a satyr

I heard he used to live in the white house

I heard he has the coordination of a God,
balance so awesome he could walk across mountains
climb trees

I heard he's a wicked hedonist.

I heard he can jump 5 feet high!

I heard he is brilliant, like rocket scientist brilliant
Like can con you out of your pants brilliant.

I heard he INVENTED COFFEE.

I heard he's super curious
open,
like if he sees something new he
HAS to explore it.

Yeah, I heard he'll try anything twice.

I heard his sister has a beard

I heard she's super dominant

I heard he doesn't cry
I heard he doesn't even have tear ducts

I heard he can learn his own name, and come to it.

I wish I could party with a goat.

This morning brought to you by a lack of everything.
Also forgiving every customer solely on the basis that they haven't had coffee yet.
Like Oprah Winfrey is in my blood handing out second chances.
"You get a smile!"
"You get a smile"
"Go **** Y!~ ou get a smile!."
Because we've all been there. Pre-Java grump at everything.
So I guess what i'm saying is...
Rich white people who probably won't read this....
I get you.... you're welcome for the coffee and optimism.
I hope you pay it forward in some way...
May my smile and
My compliment of your expensive jewelry transmorph through your ears into your brain and out your mouth at...
A fellow employee
Or
Your children
Or
Your husband.
May they see you significantly after you drink this coffee.
Which I did not. could not. possibly tamper with. (Hehe. Tamper)
Because this is self serve.
So, "Go S*rve Yourself."
And have a nice day.

I've invented 3 new colors since I last left this room.I've invented 3 new colors since I last left this room.
I've grown too familiar with the first 9
It gave me someome to talk with.
They never told me their names
But Lorde told me what they smell and sound like.
She has synesthesia.

One is a sweating cavern, howling sirens, calling on foggy hot rocks, smelling of sulfer but luring you with their chill.

One is a cracked crown, dropped from the luggage of a fallen king. Gem stones scattered on the dirt road, to the clomping hoof of his horse trotting away towards buildings that stand tall like pill bottles.

One is a flower blooming with a child in the pollen, crying. The childs crying grows quieter as it seems to lower it's opacity and fade out of existence.

These are colors,
just colors...

I've replaced each color

Red smells of sulfer
a luring chill, howling sirens, silk mist clung to wet skin
YOU ARE MINE, OBJECT
  clouds cover sheep wool, that chars in heat

Yellow cracks pepper over itself
impact pops gemstones, vacant kings crown
Horses clomp toward them
MY CROWN! STOP YOU'LL CRUSH IT!
  pill bottles shake above burning cities

Blue of baby powder
budding from pollen, crying children
droplettes falling into a body of water silently
open mouths, dancing wet tongues,
WHY CAN'T I HEAR BLUE SCREAMING?
  I can't hear blue screaming

BLUE IS SCREAMING!
NOBODY CAN HEAR BLUE SCREAMING?
  color are uncomfortable

The call center Bunny cannot sit Still.
He's a t-t-t-twitchy *******
with an Easter Grill.
His foot just thumps, and thumps, and thumps, and thumps until.
Beep!
Receiving a call, now it's ***** to the wall.
He's Makin' a Deal.

Welcome to the Magic Bean order center My name is thump~

"STOP RIGHT THERE RABBIT!
Tricks are for kids.
I'm 100 years old tomorrow,
I'm not placing a bid.
I'm calling about that free sample,
can you do that or not?"
"Brace for impact boys" Says Thumper.
"She's coming in hot."

Up to the plate with Rapport.
A ******* and a Miss.
"That's a great question, deary."
As he lights up a spliff.
Now the Dinosaur responded,
Well it was more like roaring.
Through the headset this woman
Led on quite a story
Most men would be huffing and puffing as she blew their house down.
But thumper sat there patiently
Turned her frown right around.

He pulled a lot more than grass
Out of his basket of Candy
"Listen here, kiddo.
You have a chance to be happy."
Get a Bunny enough paint.
He turns ******' Picasso.
"What's that beautiful?
You gonna let that rock go?"

"If you mail your wedding ring today.
We'll throw in an extra back bone."

This ******' rabbit Is tamin' raptors
on the phone like Chris Pratt.
He reads The wrap-up verbatim
Then does a victory lap.

The call center Bunny cannot sit Still.
He's a t-t-t-twitchy *******
with an Easter Grill.
His foot just thumps, and thumps, and thumps, and thumps until.
"Hey Thumper."
His little bunny smirk seems to
Spot himself a thrill.

"Seems like everybunny here is taking' Adderall."
So he pops and he smokes
He snorts and he cokes.
lines back up
with a wink, a pill, a couple less bucks.

Waves goodbye to the boss.
Swivels down in his spinny spot.
Snaps one headphone to his ear hole
Then stares attentive at the clock.

Tick tock tick
The bunny vibrates as he wait.
Usually he not so wide eyed
more drifting or asleep.
big white dress feet over
keyboard and mouse.
His tie pulled loose,
his ego is out.
The Pink bunny looks
seems to whistle and shout.
The bathroom stall is empty
where they usually hang out.
So they set AQE.
Though their meeting be brief.
It was Tactical.
Vertical
***** relief.
With her cotton tail up,
Her skirt to her knees.
Their paws on their flaws
A nibble for His carrot
Her Cadbury thong.
Got this pink bunny dialing
up against the wall.
you heard the thump, and thump, and thump, and thump and call.

For The call center Bunny
who can NOT sit Still.
He's a t-t-t-twitchy *******
with an Easter Grill.
Her foot just thumps, and thumps, and thumps, and thumps until.
Beep!
Receiving a call, now it's ***** to the wall. She's Makin' a Deal

soundcloud.com/geekelement

Thunder, and Lightning decided to open up their relationship.
Invited me to join them in a Triad.

Thunder and lighting have this eternal connection,
Belong together
I love watching them dance

Perform for me impulsive without leashes
I worship the trust that requires
The loyalty, faith in each other
Flying wherever they want,
Loving loud and without boundary
Knowing this storm belongs to them.
Safety, Definition: that moment after every passionate lovers kiss.
We are worshiped as the same storm.

Now I have the oppurtunity to build intimate connections with thunder.
With lightning.

Thunder has this base drop palpitation
Our hearts twitch in time just to align
The feeling of her crushing my butterflies
With firm hands, a passionate kiss that lasts only seconds.

Lighting comes in these quick bursts
I never feel like I can look at him long enough
Bright, dangerous
Knows he could **** me in a second
If he only touched me
He will never touch me
Only dance
Never long enough
Keeps me craving more
Likes to give me that headrush
When he returns.

As for me,
I was content just worshiping them
Every second they weren't worshiped,
Wasted chances, lost time, missing puzzle peices.

I didn't expect an invitation
This chance to see them honestly
Two seperate beautiful creatures to worship
Instead of one savory storm to feel pulse through me as one dancer.
I'm just an awestruck boy staring at the sky
Lost in endless baby blue, warm off sunrays, or choosing my favorite freckles in the stars
More lovers to distract me when they are gone.

It's a bomb on your doorstep.
Wrapped up in a pastel pink and white blanket.
Swaddled in a babys basket
You don't even hear the ticking over all the babble
You just assumed it was designed to protect.
You never asked anyone
Or questioned where the basket came from.
Where it got this baby.
Why it is concealing it's wicker with this blanket.
You bring it inside.

tickTick tickTick
tickTick tickTick
tickTick tickTick

Wake up tossing and turning
hear a ticking downstairs
In your kitchen.
On the island.
"You're hearing things"
close your eyes.
It's too loud.
Walk down to see just a basket
A blanket
The baby is tucked in tight
You were hearing things
"Go back to bed sweety."
But the basket keeps ticking.
"Baskets are supposed to tick"
you never question it again.

tickTick tickTick
tickTick tickTick
tickTick tickTick

You never see it explode.
Just find and count the pieces
Wicker shrapnel where there should have been guidance.
Viscera where there should have been eyes.

Part time bartender
Full time escapist
Left to spare her daughter
From a life of engagement.

She'll never know
If her time here was wasted
Before the verdict
She Prayed for church basements

Nobody noticed.
Except the bar fly
His tab stayed open
She clocked out, out back
before he could close it.

A memorial,
he was outside smokin'
didn't realize he lit a candle
When the cherry was glowing

She'll never see it.
In the paper they read it
hearts bleedin'
like a wound they weren't treating
By breathing.

at the tip of a needle
wings spread like an angel
Wrote her name in hebrew
Left us a messege.

"malakh"
How much time you got
How will you spend it
She bet him on her life
That it's less then intended

If I could reinvest it
I'd pay for my sins
I'll be ****** If it
Wouldn't take every penny I have.
But I'll be glad for empty pockets
When I stop losing friends

I'm not sayin' her life was wasted
I'm just sayin' live.

Thank you for Matching the Tinder Call Center. My name is Nick and I will be helping you with your order today. And your name is?

Hi, (Tinder Match). I'm so glad you called because you do qualify as one of the first 100 people I find attractive!
So Where are you from?

Oh Wow, I've never been there, you ever Been to Portland Maine?

No? Well look at that, I guess we've never been too each others places before.
Haha.
Looks like we have something in common.

What was it on my profile that got you interested in swiping right?
Oh I see, you liked the beard and
my addiction to Netflix.

How long have you been interested in that?
Wow that's a long time.
you really enjoyed the Office.

What else have you tried to build a good relationship?
Yeah, that must be frustrating.
They seem like a real bad guy.

What's the worst part about dealing with that?
I see, that must be really hard.

Tell me a little bit about why it's so important for you to do something about this now; it's a little different for everyone.

I see, you can't love anymore because he broke your heart.
You don't want anything serious right now.

Do you prefer coffee or tea?
you're right, Yerba Mate is fantastic with maple syrup.

What's your favorite meal of the day?
Yeah, breakfast is amazing.

What kind of music do you like?
Twenty One Pilots saved your life? that's Unbelievable.

what does your bedroom look like?
Covered in artwork and paper lanerns?

You know, (tinder match). I can't wait for you to start seeing me, and feeling Happy.

As my profile states,
I am a Geeky, Confident, Charismatic Optimist who likes to wake up next to people, Watch Netflix, and sing to himself almost always.
And that sounds great doesn't it?

Just imagine how wonderful it will feel when you're able to Sit down in Dobra tea. Pass back and fourth our Yerbe Matte Ahumado.
Then go belt out lyrics to Twenty One Pilots in my car on the way back to your place,
have amazing *** under your paper lanterns and wake up the next day to me making you breakfast.
And THAT'S really why you swiped right today, isn't it (Tinder match)?

Excellent! Let's get you started!

As you heard, I've put together a Special Date, with the free Tea. A serenade and car ride. And an extra free second date when you try this First One for just your body. Plus, since you're one of the people I find attractive, I'm gonna throw in a Third date. so you get three, for the price of one! And remember that dating me is risk-free because it's backed by my 30-day Text you back guarentee.
So what's the best number I can reach you at?

I understand your hesitation, (tinder match). When we first started talking you had said you'd been dealing with bad relationships for a long time right? Once you start seeing me you'll see an increase in happiness within the first two dates. And if you never have to worry about being sad again, you'd say it was worth trying wouldn't you?
Right! So what's your snapchat username?

Perfect, and your Cell phone number?
Alright, and a day you're free?
And what's a good time to meet?

Awesome, okay (Tinder Match). And I'm also told to inform you of our special super saver package today. You'll get to go out on a date with me, and my friend Sally for the same low price of just your body. Imagine what it'd be like experiencing the both of us at the same time! Scientists have proven that polyamorous relationships are more happy, more healthy, and result in less overall stress. Which is really what you're looking for isn't it?

Great so I'll just have her tag along alright?

Perfect.
Thank you very much and just to confirm, I'll see you on Wednesday at 12:00pm at Dobra Tea, alright?
Alright have a nice day (Tinder Match.)
Buh bye.

Thank you for Matching
the Tinder Call Center.
My name is Nick and I will be helping you with your order today.
And your name is?

Hello, Port Veritas

I'm so glad you called
because you do qualify
as one of the first 100 people
I find attractive!

So Where are you from?
Oh Wow, I've never been there,
you ever Been here to Bull Feeney's?

No? Well look at that,
I guess we've never been
too each others places before.
Hah!

Looks like we have something
in common.

What was it on my profile that got you interested in swiping right?
Oh I see, you like love poems,
you like new ****,
you just wanna make everyone cry.

How long have you been interested in that?
Wow that's a long time.

What else have you tried
to hear love poems,
see new ****
and make people cry?

Wow that's...

that's kinda ****** up Port Veritas.

That's really ****** up.

What's the worst part about dealing with that?
I see, well I'm glad you called.

Tell me a bit
why it's important
to do something about this now;
it's a little different for everyone.

I see, it's Valentine's day. There's a valentines open mic and LOVE SLAM Tonight!

I'm just gonna ask a couple quick questions to see if you qualify,

Will you all answer them for me?

Do You want **** poetry?

**** poetry IS the best sticky note to receive in your eighth grade lunch box

Do you want Radical Self Love?

me too, let's keep looking

Do you want love Poetry?

You just want so many things from me that i can give you.

Do You want people to need a towel by the time you leave the stage!?

You're right, they shouldn't call it dry *******

You know, Port Veritas. I can't wait for you to watch this amazing show we have for you tonight.

As my profile states,
we're gonna give strangers this microphone for four minutes.
Where they are gonna say whatever the hell they want about terrible dates, passionate love, terribly passionate ***.
And that sounds great doesn't it?

Just imagine how wonderful it will feel when
you get up here
picture all these lovlies in their underwear
feel cold and alone
with nothing but your words
and a microphone
Then drop the god ****** heat on us.

Imagine a chorus of ****
and Mmmm and snaps

THAT'S really why you swiped right today, isn't it Port Veritas?

Excellent! Let's get you started!

As you heard, we've put together a Special Package, with this Valentines open mic. A LOVE SLAM.
And an extra free second date when you try this First One for just your body.
Plus, since you're one of the first 100 people I find attractive,
I'm gonna throw in a Third date. so you get three, for the price of one!
And remember that swiping right on a Poetry slam is risk-free because it's backed by our 30-day Text you back guarentee.
So put your name on the sign up sheet.
next to your $3- $5 dollar suggested donation
bus your tables at the end of the night,
Tip your bartender Leah well for putting up with us every week.
use whatever bathroom you ******* want

and one last order of business
to wrap things up
like a good boy practicing
safe ***, who is totally not trying
To get you all pregnant.
when he asks how you like
Your eggs in the morning.

Un-fertilized.

If someone gets up here and says
something during their four minutes
That makes you feel unsafe
you can do one of three things
1. Silently get up, leave the room and come back when you're comfortable
2. Get Nate or myself and tell us to provide floor for a calm discussion.
3. Go home write a ******* poem about it. and bring it back here next week!

Now
WHO'S READY FOR A VALENTINE'S OPEN MIC?!

UP ON DECK
WE HAVE:

I'm clawing at your door, God
Don't you see the shadows seeping out from under your closet?
I see those shadows everywhere.
Let me be that for you, God.
Let me pull you in.

Up here at the top of the world, I stare into the horizon.
a building under construction in plain view.

Next to me,
A homeless man throws an empty bottle at some hard hats.
Screaming nonsense at them like he owns them.

Beside him,
A dog prances around, stopping only to **** on the brown grass.
covering up the **** that was left by some other dog earlier on.

the sun sets.
a film student points and clicks his camera at his model.
The model stares longingly into the horizon

At night,
Rebels, stumble out of the wilderness giggling and coughing.
smelling like skunk and sweat.
Almost stumbleing off the rocks.

I sit alone at the top of the world,
Trying to find my own way to escape.

I stand up and walk to the end of the cliff.
I scream nonsense at the black, but nobody hears me.
I ******* the precipice; but nothing is covered up.
I stare gloomily off into the horizon, but all I see is the building under construction.
I inhale smoke, but I don't feel any different.

I can't escape like the homeless man does,
or the dog, or the film student, or the rebel. they found their ways and Those ways belong to them.

I need to find my own way to escape. My top of the world.

He says "Geek Poet!
Leave the politics alone
Stick to Pop culture"

Cousin.
Politics ARE Pop culture.
don't you see?

in a world where businesses
buy natural disaster insurance
In fear of presidential tweets
McDonald's burger vending machines
You think this isn't dystopia?

We play games to escape.
where can we go when the real world is
scary as the upside down?

Tell me, Cousin.
Where do you write your poetry?
is it safe?

Do you surround yourself with coffee?
Turn your back to a naked woman?
is there whiskey on the bar,
A journal,
your favorite pen?
Your cell phone,
clentching in the public restroom?

because no matter where you are.
that sanctuary
is a ******* pillow fort compared to the
Fort Knox of an artists imagination

politics ARE pop culture
China is throwing unfathomable
amounts of money into Propaganda
targeting millennials though memes.
Fish don't see water, remember?

You are telling me
I can't write about politics.
There are Americans
who have never voted,
posting radical left and right facebook posts.
protecting and attacking A Racist,
selfish, blemish on our history.
you wonder why we are scared, Cousin?

You want to know why I am so loud?

I watch Men step alligator shoe
out of Boston limousines
Slicked back hair straight
from wolf of wallstreet
belligerent screaming
"I do what I Waaaaaaant!"
"She does what she waaaaaaaaaaaaants!"
"We do what we waaaaant!"

This is the world
we're escaping from.
Excuse me if I break
from the zombie jokes
The vampire romances
Focus on the dead bodies
in our own city, Cousin.

Our demons are real now.

dystopian literature
called for the 2017 election
as far back as the 1930s'

Senator Buzz Windrip
from "It can't happen here"
by Sinclair Lewis
makes promises
to "return America to a better time".
back in 1935

buying validity for his ideas
in airtime on the radio,
tarring those who disagree,
as tools of mother russia,
dismissing woman,
as silly socialists.
naming the press
"a lot of irresponsible wind bags."

In the book "Parable of the talents",
Octavia butler Predicts a "Pox" In 2015
Wiping most of the population.
She wrote this book in 1998

Andrew Steele Jarret
becomes president
promising to return the country
to an "Older Simpler time"

Want to learn how to defeat Trump?
Read "Our Twisted Hero,"
by Yi Munyol

Read
"In the Heart of the Valley of Love, "
by Cynthia Kadohata

All of these Dystopian fantasies
Prepare the Geeks to rise up
and fight.
Pop culture is the only thing saving us
Knowledge is the only thing saving us
Standing up.
Making art.
Being loud
Is the only thing saving us
from the red button
in the orange hands
of the man who NEVER Had
the best words.

We The Artists
The Geeks who will inherit the earth
Swear to protect our words.
We will not bow, bend, or break.
Ink is the blood of prophets
The voice is a weapon

excuse me if I use Mine to educate
rather than distract.
Forgive me for spitting on anxiety paper-cuts
from our government
paperback of bigotry
labeling myself neosporin
praying God, PLEASE
let me be charismatic enough.
Let me incite placebo healing for a small fraction
of the tortured anxiety pretzels
I walk along each day.
I am sick of being tall because
my friends are too busy crawling.

I will preach Art as our gospel, Cousin.
You can't Incite Revolution
by throwing dice at ghosts
Our Pop Culture IS Politics.
I'm putting all my stat points into inspire
Watch how high I roll.

You dangled from my laytex glove
Prey above dogs
Held sturdy by the chest
Gentle

Playful beasts they were, barking.
TOY! MEAL!
FOOD!
They couldn't see how terrified you were of their instinct to howl.
I foot them inside the rickety screen door.

I agreed to toss you in the woods.
expected a cleaning job.
Extracting a cold still object from her sisters cage.

You looked at me.
I wanted to look you in the eyes
before I did it.
And You looked at me.
Stretched out your legs

We laid down together
Sun cooked the wooden porch beneath our bodies
desperate to learn everything like fresh fall season lovers.

You moved when I touched you.
Like my attention gave you an extra moment

You didn't seem to breath

I offered a carrot.
Meek. You used what life was left in you to open your mouth.
You hadn't the strength to chew.

I was too optimistic.
I know now.
When I broke the tiniest peice of carrot free
placed it in your mouth.
You hadn't the strength to swallow

But you were breathing heavy now

I felt like god.
A human god.
Selfish even now in the giving of life
How happy your mother will be
How powerful I will look
Deciding which creatures live.
And die.

I shoved the bit of carrot
with a medical pinky finger.
You took three large gasps for air

I Dropped my godly optimism in a grey plastic bag on the desperate table of three worried pet doctors.
Embarrassed for me, they ask us to leave

You already had.

At a field of uncut hay.
Same laytex glove.
Same grey plastic bag
Same executioners guilt.

My guardian angels curiosity and risk slapped my greed with icarus wings.

I cried.
threw you like a baseball into the sunset.
Cars pulled wind behind us while I stared.

How like me to give my full curiosity to what is known to die soon.
How greedy I am to try and bring it back
Risk shoving my hand down its throat to chase a miracle that looks
to you
like charity
for the praise,
then abandon it when I discover
the treasure comes with its own ghosts.

I pull down another sunset.
Fast.
Like curtains on a stage

Trailer hyena

I was forged in the gutter

Too, I just got out.

I make you pancakes in the morning
Strawberries and whip cream
Just like my grandmother used to make
They call me the trash monster

Those tattoos of wings on your shoulders?
Those were the first two tattoos I ever stabbed into a person.
You were my first.

Remember I was the one who told you to pluck your eyebrows
How you cringed and refused.
plucked them the same direction
they were growing.
One by one.
So you wouldn't feel pain
I made you beautiful

They call me the trash monster

I paid for your world of Warcraft subscription.
I was at every birthday
your second mother

They call me the trash monster

My face is on national Televsion
Photographs of my living room.
The same one you woke up in every Saturday morning.

You wouldn't even recognise it.
Hidden beneath all of this spilt hourglass sand

So much between us now.
Prison bars
fast food shrapnel.

They call me the trash monster

A baby boy.
His little sister
Swimming in this filth
My depression hording

Their father left us for a 19 year old who lusted after his motor cycle
joined a gang
sells heroine

Left his autistic son and daughter
Taken now, my everything
From the nest

I was left to clean

They call me the trash monster

This filth
The broken wooden horse
The wax paper backs of sticker sheets.
The McDonald's bags n' grease
Scrapbooking strip cutters.

They call me the trash monster

Did you hear yet?
Do you remember me?
Did you throw me out?

I sit to the left of a lonely man.
He is smiling wider then the ocean can stretch.
He is french.
Wrinkled.
Glowing.
We have come to the topsham fair.
Strange creatures pass and we gaze at them,
Talking about how funny or pretty or different they are.

We eat french fries.
He looks down.
"Your grandmother never ate skins on potatoes. She was old fashioned."
"You must of ate a ton of em then, huh?"
"Oh yeah, all kinds."

Two girls around 20 skip on by
Short denim dresses,
Bright red lipstick,
Candy apple shoes.

"Back in my day i'd be chasing those little girls all over the place. Now half the time they're chasing you!" I laugh
"Yeah, I have fun papa, not as much as you had though"
"I thought i'd find some old geezers like me but they aren't here."
"Well I'm sure they're around. let's go find some."

We get off the bench
walk a ways.
His cane clicking on the old tar.
We stopped to watch a young boy laugh on the pirate ship.
It swings him up high
He screams and giggles.
We smile up at him.
Watch his mother put hands to her mouth and heart attack.

We come across a bench with two grey haired men and an empty seat.
"Can I sit here?"
"Oh come on down!"

Papa, well,
He starts talking about the good old days.
"My wife passed away four months ago."
He talks to the grey haired men.

As they make conversation,
I realize, there's a reason us lonely men stick together.

We get it, Sometimes.
You just need to talk about the pain
like it's just something that happened.
If you keep saying it.
You can remember it.
You can be there for awhile.
Instead of here.
Instead of lonely.

Lonely men love stories.
We love hearing stories.
We love telling our stories.

If a lonely man tells you his story.
Listen.

I warn to not set expectations in the face of discomfort or fear.

Not only could it lay thornbushes like barbed wire fence in way of people who may want to help you.

The weeds may also grow instead of you. Not just around you.

A room with walls made of thorn bushes instead of barbed wire may look like a sanctuary garden. But with four walls that no one will touch, it is still a cage.

Don't silence a helping hand, because you're insulted that it does, or doesn't feed.

Just hold it. Thankfully.
Until you do not wish to hold it any longer.
And then let go.

You are all repression
and denial and avoidance
in the face of anything
not ideal
because the alternative is
self hatred
And we both love
you
too much to prioritise
truth
over
your happiness
and do you see now
why
this is killing me

You have a body.
I know you never sleep there,

spend less time breathing than contemplating,
jailbreak daily from your ribcage,

harbor kitchen spoons to feed your escapism.
hide the entrance
under stale white hotel sheets.

Born to be an actress
with no script, you ponder this
in every mirror.

In every mirror you inherit this vacant body,
enough money to live in a studio apartment
in Washington, Vegas or anywhere

men would pay for three phone plans,
calf-length black socks and pseudonyms.

A room at the Marriot to trade scars,
connect you again with your skin.

At a political dinner
roasted hog, blueberry pie,
gilded knifes protecting the spoons.

Dog mouths are wet for scraps.
They bark beneath the table,

"Unoccupied bodies, should start charging rent.
Have you considered being a *** worker?"

"...Oh come on,
you never even turn on the lights."

Fight or flight
A gut response.

I've bathed in hatred dressed like leathermans pointed at my ribcage.

Jumped off rooftops thinking the ground was softer than my future.

Told woman to choke me until I purple
Purple plays verb safer than run
Than scream
than remember.

When your sancuary
Has a spotlight on the one thing you've been escaping from.
Fight or flight.

"Hello"
You tap her shoulder.
Confirm she's not your hallucination.
You still aren't sure.
You couldn't touch long enough.

Do not ask.
"where is she?"
Or "so you're an alcohaulic now?"
Or "are you having a panic attack? Because I'm having a panic attack.
And you used to always have panic attacks.

Do not pose:
If I avoid the streets of an entire city
So I won't cross your path.
whether you are there or not.
See Your ghost in the deli,
Order gelato, carrying a carseat.
hear your name
reach out to thin air
that belongs in my lungs.

Why, beautiful disaster
Are you skipping your A.A. meeting
Sitting at this bar, that I call home.
Drinking on a stool that with one moment
Belongs to your ghost now.

how did you stumble into this bomb shelter?
Were the salt circles not enough to keep you out?
have I not been loud enough?
I preach the Gospel of this microphone.
Everyone within a ten mile radius of a screen
knows I come here at this time
on this day
every week

If you ever want to see me.
I'll be here.
I can't leave.

You can.
You don't have to.
I mean, I didn't invite you.
But when has that ever stopped you before?
If you need to face me head on.
Come.
I need you too.
Let's dance
Forget the empty dresser covered in princess stickers
Forget the swirling mattress of our lies and mistakes.
**** Google+
your perfect ***,
the photographs I can't delete.

Jump on this bar table with me.
Show them how it breaks under our weight.
Smash that beer against the wall
Jam the broken bottle in my ribs
I promise you.
I will ******* feel it.
If my blood doesn't spill out.
If my pain doesn't splatter this godamned stage.
If a single person in this room forgets
This dance
When we purple.
our bodies slammed off every dining room table
Shatter wine glasses into chapbooks
tear off your fake smiling mask
throw it at a nearby ******.
Naked screaming killing each other.
When we blackout.

your ghost will still be sitting at the godamned bar haunting me.

And it's funny
Why does it hurt?
It's not like I go a day
without seeing you anyway

"Over there
Witness all the rooms you rent,
Moments, Memories,
all the pieces of heart
gifted by lovers or strangers"
said The Cherub.
"My arrows choose which you will cherrish."

"While we lay entangled here,
Having consumed one another.
Do you wonder if we will cherrish this?"
said The Archer.

"Would you like to come even closer
And discover the answer? "
replied The Cherub.

"Every memory I've choosen to cherrish,
Has Shattered"
says The Archer.

"Well of course it did,
You tried to choose.
We cannot choose
which memories we will cherrish.
We may only pull
faith From quiver.
Give in to potential
without intention.
Close your eyes.
Empty all your senses
Until the only sense you have is Trust
I'll fill those empty spaces,
can you feel me?"

"Yes, you are close."

"You have my quiver now.
We still have no control over whether
We will cherrish this moment.
Put your faith in this bow.
Draw back our arrow
Trust it's natural path.
Close our eyes.
Forget this room.
Volley the whole tower"

Provoked to put some sort of thick concrete in my mouth.
All my teeth are now stuck together
as I tongue around to try and pick the glue off.
they teeter and totter on their last gum strings.
heavier now due to the concrete.
In My dream A girl says: "I know I am a sewing machine."
When I wake up, I realize she meant Piano.

I dreamed the man who glued my teeth together
looked like Biff from back to the future.
and was my brother.
and was an *******.
When I woke up
I had to Google "bully from Back to the future"
so i could write it in this poem.
because I forgot his name.
I'm bad at names.

I dreamt not having the money to go to the dentist.
also Not having time to go see the dentist.
I didn't have to dream very hard.
I'm really broke right now.

My teeth go numb and pop off their strings.
my gums are stacked cubes of honey combs
They too fall out one by one
like single falling Tetris pieces

Girl says: "What would I do If I couldn't sew?"
"I'd be nothing!"
In the dream, She still hasn't realized she's a piano
I think: "What would I do if i couldn't sing?
Couldn't Write.
Breathe."

One day I knew exactly what it was like not to breathe.
a few times, I knew exactly what it was like not to sing too.

This dream felt a lot like that.

I dreamt the life of a liquid diet.
Denchers sitting in off-yellow sanitizing containers on a porcelain sink
This other older woman, who is clearly supposed to represent my mother.
looks at me with "I told you so, Eyes"
I think she's here so I can't find any comfort in my dream.
She knows this has to be a nightmare.
If I see my real mother, I'll get some comfort.
so instead I see this slum queen who looks down and says:
"go to bed sweetie, we'll call the doctor in the morning."
as flies buzz around her filthy Hutt body
as I catch my last block of honey comb gum from my mouth.
My teeth spill, Tumbling out of my hands.

I woke up in the middle of the night terrified
Feeling at my gums.
Because Biff snuck concrete into my mouth as I was sleeping.
When my eyes opened, I reached for pen and paper.
As I wrote down my dream
My First thought was: she wouldn't be a sewing machine, she'd be a piano.

Even though I was alone.
You were my first Thought.
I didn't even notice if I had any teeth.

The doctor Told Her She couldn't play an instrument for awhile.
She sent a picture doing it anyway.
because it made her happy.
see, in the real world, She knew she was a Piano.
I wonder if she had nightmares of teeth falling out
Of keys falling from a piano one by one
Ivory rectangles plunking,
Tap
against the black and white checkered tile floor of a diner.
Where we share The worlds scariest Beautiful nightmare: Life.

We get brunch
There are Pancakes
scrambled eggs.
I told-you-so's
Going to the doctor
being fairly broke.
Waking up terrified
but always with each other.
whether we're really there or not.
Playing a piano that's missing a few teeth.
Even though the doctor said not too
Even though it doesn't sound so good anymore with the missing notes.
Playing because it makes us happy to run our fingers over the old ivory.

this is a world we don't visit.
whenever we think about it our teeth fall out.
Funny, I started writing about a nightmare
How you turned it into a poem.

Always loved fire,
Daddy the matchstick, Mommy?
she was the pyre.

The new Genre Tourist Punk
is sailing the nation.
Hawaiian shirts and white keds are lining up all around Orlando to see
up and thrifting bands like
Lobster trap,
Lighthouse tour and
Dogs welcome.

Founded in a Starbucks
by Toni and Dash,
two MECA grads one student loan away from selling out and getting involved in
the lighthouse painting business,
The Band: Lobster Trap
gave birth to a whole new genre.
TOURIST PUNK
Toni and Dash decided they needed to provide music that was expensive. niche.
Something unspeakably mundane.

With smash hits like
"This traffic is *******"
And "My name still isn't Joe".
Lobster Trap is flying
up the American top 40
faster than you can say socks and sandals

Sales of "I HEART LOCATION" merch has skyrocketed with every launched tour.
Crowds of L.L. bean boots and visors are Moshing, breaking poloroid cameras over each others heads in a salmon rage.

old school punk fanatics were skeptical at middle aged middle class suits getting into their scene.
until it hit them that they could now throw punches
at every pedestrian who ever cut them off.

"Hi thirsty, I'm Dad." By Land of the Polite
Has been played more times in the last year then any taylor swift song.

Money once invested in college-bound middle class vacationlander spawn is being wisely spend on bands like "discount Polo",
and "Local Diner"

So listeners.
if you spend an obscene amount of money on travel fair, and over priced, cheaply made souvenirs;
Or Work in customer service thriving to see those leaf peepers choked out by their own ***** packs.
Do yourself a favor.
road trip into your local bullmoose
sporting your states name on your chest.
And Treat yourself to an exclusive new album
of TOURIST PUNK.

When the first words out of his mouth was
"Sup *****"
I knew a certain few things

1. He was not getting laid tonight.

2. None of us in this room know why he's the party leader,
All glancing at each other in awe
nodding like a hive mind chanting
yes, this man is in fact an *******,
no, i don't know how he rose to power
yes, he did just call us *****.

3. I could think of a million one liners that would earn me way more respect up front than that.

I don't know what I was expecting
walking into this basement

Maybe some small fame
The same small fame I get from getting on a stage for slam poetry
or being cast in a reality T.v. show
Or singing kareoke at my local bar.

Maybe for the free pizza
We've all been there.

And yes, maybe it was for the revenge.
the campaign slogan you stamped
recruitment posters with.
Join the evil league of evil!
Launch revenge against the modern heroes of today!

But when I sit down in this small fold up metal lawn chair,
in what is presumably his moms basement
Behind a projecter  (also probablly his moms)
Next to captain nose bleed
And princess *******.

I already don't have a whole lot of faith in his agenda

So when his opening line
Was "Sup *****"
Like that is some sort of impressive villanous monolouge peared down into one and a half words.
I lost any ounce of faith I had in this cult.
And decided to Usurp this "Party Leader".

Now you might be asking:
Why?
Why would you want to be the head of the evil league of evil?
Founded in this pre pubescent boys moms basement
Whos only followers so far seem to be captain nosebleed,
and princess *******.

Well
clearly
You don't understand.
Captain nosebleed is already under the thumb of princess *******.
I mean lets be real without princess *******
We're three dudes in a basement
Pretending to be super villans.

And you've been known to be pretty charming.

But in your friends evil lair.
Sorry
Moms basement.

You start to evaluate your situation
Gotta make a descision.

Are you fighting for Revenge,
or the small fame?

"Welcome to the future"

reliable rocket ship trade routes, for any rich man.
Flying cars made with science that everyone pretends the myth-busters didn't invent first.
Dead rap stars and anime girls performing,
live on stage with smoke and mirrors
and a government that redefines the word Live,
and operates on smoke and mirrors

"Welcome to the future"

There is a company developing brain chips
so you can watch me climb this mountain,
just synch up with my vision
Also, while you're in my head
check out these commercials I'm hearing from the drone propaganda radios
Feel how this rock feels, synthetic and stamped with advertisements
smell what I'm smelling,
the propane, the soot.

You think this sounds crazy?
There's a little magic rectangle in your pocket.
to Record and send audio, take a photo,
we are halfway
we're just making every science fiction dream a reality

"we're so ******"

What's gonna happen when the world
runs out of dreams to make true?
marty mc-fly got his self strapping shoes, and also we got heelys
and sometimes we got self strapping heelies that glew in the dark
these things are ancient technology now
but we aren't far from the delorian

...or a nuclear apocalypse.

We have flying cars!
when we get flying houses, islands,
cities
when we populate mars
when we umbilicord ourselves to technological advances
hack, splice,
stich in memory chips, nerolinks
Who's gonna come up with the new dreams?

Who's gonna pen the next future
when everyone has seen the jetsons
outside their window.

Bring me the most creative,
innovative minds,
Untouched by the rhetoric
Who will be our new gods?
Will it be the artists?

No,
Bring me the Children.

"Welcome to the playground"

Words of aspiration graffitied on trump tower
Kaiju stuffed bears with saddles transporting business suit toddlers to their desks
where they draw, and draw, and draw
Mechanical dinosuars replacing trains.
Shutes and ladders everywhere
We will put our faith in mommy
and she will be beautiful
just like me.
we will pray to mother
she will rain affection
guide the pint sized diaper academy
while the adults sit in sensory boothes,
occulus rift 99.5.0 on their heads
feeding tube, cathader, an ash tray of tiny blue pills.
a small child hired to wipe their *** once in awhile,
for minimum wage
Which now is $200 an hour,
they still can't get health care
the lowest plan offers crayon insurance
that they can't use until they are promoted to artist

So they pray and pray to their mother religion
but mother doesn't exist here.

only birth robot
only television parasite
only plugged in queens and worker boys

we have the responsibility
to mold these tiny minds
if we **** up, remember
the fate of the world
was never in our hands
it was in very tiny hands
with pencils in them

"Welcome to the future"
"Welcome to the future"
"welcome to the future"

Tattered flags
Wedding dress train
White fringe cached in dirt road
Like baggy jeans bottoms
Converse stomped but worn each day like a religion.

Stolkholmes syndrome
Maybe she would have taken off the dress for the right sandpaper hands.
Delicately telling time and wearing her
Down six months
Down eight years
Down in the basement
Ducttape cuffed to a wooden chair
Bandages torn off slow
Like a drag on a thick cigar
From fat lips
Fat teeth
Fat wallets.

She spent a lot of time on her side smashed down on her bruised ear.
From the cold concrete after tipping cedar legs
Or listening too closely

Didn't clover though
Despite the Irish eyes
She isn't lucky enough to have scars
We can see.

Green. She is tall
Held fire shattered in year 20-something
She has flash backs
When men in black
Hold pens to her nose and click

A boat from Ellis island
Rainstorm on white picket signs and fences in a dance of coin and sweat

Under long arms
Holding the hilt
Called the broken blade fire.
Say there's a mountain somewhere that matched her on tinder
Three men's faces carved into it.
I hear she used to represent freedom
Before being robbed of her flaming sword

I bet if the statue of liberty had a voice

And she does

She would wear a red dress.
No makeup
Sew her mouth shut
Love the pain
and post Gore **** pictures
on adult websites as confession.

I believe the statue of liberty owns stripper heels
And can run in them.

I believe god is a broken torchlight.

I believe being consumed by the fires of god is a metaphor
For drowning in the green shrapnel of a voice or a wedding dress.

I believe I am ready to be a statue
To drop my fire in the ocean

Crumble under America
be found in Atlantis under pounds of enough pressure
only the angler fish can tempt me.

At least underwater
Men are ***** producing parasites
And I can drown in something beautiful.

Pushing wheelbarrows through tall grass
hoping it will mow the lawn
it only carries old dirt
over new problems
Occasionally spilling manure over the lip to make new weeds grow faster.

Never believed in lawn mowers.
Said that cutting the heads off all this grass would risk cutting the heads off the flowers too
Most people say **** the flowers
But not you
Your garden is extravagant.

Whiskers is a word that changes 
after love making with a man
Hands that hold, not touch
Scratchy lips, hands on my hips.
Whiskers, like the warmest blanket,
the safest harness, keep me honest.

If I have this with a woman,
she would make me godless.
Venom gets me off a tingle, 
like fanning singles at a stage
It proxies my craving,
drains my savings.

Whiskers can't be heard the same.
I meet a man.
He hungers for my frame.
Drinks me like a bottle
from the top shelf.
He had me on the rocks.

I'm not used to bodies
that aren't soft.
Show me hands that
touch, rough with callouses
I'm learning. I'm still teething
I'm seeing. Fire flickers in my belly.

Men feel different.
I like it. He's safe.
I'm empty. I stop bleeding
for blank canvases.
He holds me on his shoulders like Atlas.
I needed a foundation.

Instead of chasing strangers
I'm being taken by a man
who knows the finer flavors.
This is the way
I'm meant to be.
I can taste it.

Last night Gary Facebooked me:
11:03 PM
"Can I ask you to be crazy with me?"
Gary said he had been flirting with this girl, May
for six months.
She wanted to see him in person tonight,
And he needed a ride.
Gary and I met 11 days ago.
Strangers brought together in the streets of Freeport by pokemon GO.
he spotted me holding my phone out from a mile away.
"Team Instinct?
TEAM INSTINCT!"
Lightning cracked above us
as we cryed in harmony:
"THERE IS NO SHELTER FROM THE STORM!"

My knowledge of him consists of three things.

1. He works as a security guard
Is first responder for medical emergency
Tackles felons and escorts people with restraining orders.
plays it up like he's a security guard for something mysterious
He is a security guard for Wal-mart.

2. Gary buys peoples affection.
Throws his money aimlessly
Pointing at his trophies
Prooving he too is expensive

3. To Gary,
there is nothing better to do
from 12 - 5am
Than wander Looking for pikachu.
With me.
besides visiting this May.

"A taxi would be $80
but I'd rather pay that to you, Bro."

On the drive there,
He is Squeeing, Singing,
Flipping out.
"I've got knots in my stomach Bro."

Upon arrival,
He readily jumps from my car
"Go catch 'em Brock" I say.

When I get back to Freeport
he sends me a messege.
1:04 AM
"Dude.
I think she fell asleep waiting
I'm not inside yet."

I park my car in Freeport,
Finish catching a Weedle.
"I'm on my way, stay safe."

"Man I'm so down."
"She's not coming to the door Nick."
"I'm just gonna curl up on the ground and cry."
"I've called her 24 times"

He heavily thumps his backpack into my backseat
Slumps down into my car.

"There is"
"no shelter"
"From"
"the storm"
"In my heart."

We stare out the window.
At the two homeless men
With no teeth
That he didn't beat.
He's holding night vision binoculars
And a clean Knife.
"I'm sorry I got you involved, Nick
I asked you to be crazy with me."

They finally told me you know.
About what you became.
It took them awhile.
Every time I asked about you they said you were well.
fine.
moved on.
hid it from me.
I wouldn't have the right reaction.

They said you drove to their house drunk.
Brought our daughter with you.
They watched her play
while you ****** some stranger.

Well.
She isn't mine anymore.
I was a stand in stepdad at best.
She isn't yours anymore either.
you Told me,
her, your mother
you wished she was gone.
That she was such a burden.
You wanted to be free.

Your mother was
nice enough to take her off your hands.
the whole time we were together you convinced me your mother was devil.
stealing your baby.
Convincing all you weren't enough to raise a child.
You never told me that when I left,
she'd be right.
That without me, you'd give up.
go back to the trailer life.
The drugs. alcohaul.
Empty whirlwind to try and feel something.
anything.

I wasn't happy when I found out.
You'd think that when you hear
your ex lovers life going down in smoke
you'd be exhilerated.
I'm not... I feel guilty.
For leaving you that way.
you weren't fit to love anyone alone
Not me, your daughter, yourself.
I don't want to see you blackout on pavement
cold, too drunk to drive home.
Throwing up for whole days after ******* strangers for drugs.

When I left you, you refused to drink.
Said, you had an addictive personailty
were avoiding it.

I want to imagine you getting better.
finding the right help...
learning how to raise a child the way that is your own,
but is also healthy, happy.
I gave you both so much time, love, care.
Driving you to the doctors,
her to the playground,
the whole family down to boston for vacation.

you chose this.
Drunk driving from Trip to allyway
Killing yourself on the same street you grew up on.

I wish I had adopted her when you begged me to.
Back when our puppy love blinded us so loudly all we saw was the sun.

You had me convinced I was controlling, jealous.

So I showed you exactlly what happens when I stopped trying to help.
Stopped caring that you were lying.
Gave you all the space you needed to
be free.

I was hoping on some level that I was wrong.
That I was controlling. jealous.
just a confused terrible person.
wishing that I was this monster blind guarded by distrust.
But here you are....
Gave up custody.
Picked up a million vices
working at mcdonalds.
I'm happy you feel free.

I'm happy I gave up trying to change you,
it was the healtiest thing i've ever done.

I've never had a regret before.
always owned my descisions.
Preached each and every terrible experence helped shape my charecter.

Until today.
I regret leaving you that little girl.

All the audio recordings of you hitting her, calling her a ****,
telling her she couldn't eat until she stopped crying
All the times I didn't step up and say you were wrong
because I “wasn't her real father”
it “wasn't my place to tell you how to parent”
You "didn't hit her that hard"
all I ever wanted was to raise her right.
To love her.
Give her something constant in her life.

I painted you on such a pedestal just because you gave life.
trapped myself in this hole I labeled love.

I wasn't happy when they told me you lost her.
That you were an alcohaulic.
had given up.

I just regreted ever telling you no.
no I can't adopt Soleil.
I can love her without paper.
No I would never take her away.
I have faith in you.
You'll be an amazing mother.
Just believe in yourself.

Maybe if you listened to me.
you'd still have her.
be alive.
Free.

A Zippo lighter with a smoker's cough,
propositions the ladybug
clinging to a flannel pocket,

You can always trust a tealight
to warm the neglected beetles,
that cling to your chest.

this Ritual of the staring contest.
attention behind the curtain:

When You blink at the Rorschach shadows
tell me, they are not mailboxes.

The spirits linger; we stumble into entanglement

birch trees weaving
baskets from our branches

I'm known to cave on integrity, for the taste of freckles,
flickering tealights in the hearthstone, with a smokers cough.