There is no time to relax.
No love around to get me to relax,
No woman dancing on the
moonlight stage,
blowing kisses, slapping her *******.
Good enough for others
It makes my eyes ache,
The words I type everyday,
can’t seem to fix my troubles,
My mind snaps,
Where to find the easy way?
Where to find her eyes again?

It will get boring without these
sounds in the stereo floating
around and to get me going…
Fuel.
Give me words to spread on
the white page.

Don’t relax tonight
It may seem you’re losing it
Writer’s block attack
I’ll write-

To smile with fear
is the greatest accomplishment of all.

I feel doom

rising

we all go to the circus

to watch the clowns die

to see the elephants stripped

I feel cold

we all die out like the sad clowns we were

the music is playing loud in the bathroom.

Cherie’s roommate is always blaring,

music that isn’t pleasurable to my ears.

she also likes to blare her mouth off too.

she is the perfect example of daddies little girl,

she can’t fend for herself really,

and can’t seem to do anything right.

she leaves a mess in the kitchen,

telling Cherie.

"I’ll clean it soon."

two days later

Cherie is cleaning the Kitchen.

"Why the hell do you clean up for her? She’s a BIG GIRL, ****, I don’t understand."

"Well if I don’t do it, it will never get done."

Cherie likes to do her own thing

i can’t stop her

and really there’s no point too it either.

this is for the classy ones that dance alone on tables of glass,

and the evil greed that breathes in you some night.

do you feel healthy?


don’t get lost in the woods,

don’t eat after twelve at night,

you will suffer the next day.

people, crowds of beaten people,

lost in the womb of the globe.

peace will never win, peace seems to be dead these days.


and you will fight the great fight of living

and the touch

and the feeling

of greatness will come someday.

skin deep in the wet dirt and the fresh grass

it means something to someone

and to another it’s horseshit.

the living skin wins again.

winning isn’t something good you know.

buying a new lung and a new heart for the crippling body.

didn’t you hear those screams last night?

the outside of the city,

seeing the cars breathing and you shouldn’t be inhaling that.

one random hook up at the bar with a woman with a fat ***,

she soon disappears from me,

I could drink more tonight but

life isn’t being tough right now.

it beats the drums of the body,

it grows fear in the brain,

my head and back are sore,

from carrying metal sheets to the machine.

who was that beside me?

the oven gives me a burn mark.

and that is what pain feels in the skin.

I could imagine the nerves screaming on fire.

It’s hot and
my forehead is sweating and
my long arms are sweating,
my ***** are hot and wet,
it’s hot in a 400 dollar room tonight.

Coffee drippings on the tongue,
salty bacon takes first place,
orange juice with *****,
flashes and flashes of lines and colour
from the mind spurting out the eyes and mouth.

Rosie and her angel of love
scream in the ears of me

I finally eat but I haven't
started yet
I notice the bread is green
into the trash it goes
the whole five left pieces
of bread into the trash it goes

when I sleep
I need some noise
what music to choose
I sleep with classic 50's
and Chopin nocturnes
soft ambient noise is nice when
the moon is dripping

Caved in the bedroom
I like it
the people are far away
and I should shower
the shower is something godly
it traps me and I'm in it
for long draining minutes
of time that I'll never see again

being hassled by the local drug dealers

and downtown shows- ***** fights

from drunken bozo’s

escape never no never escape

escape from downtown at night

people go crazy

I go crazy in a midnight bar with

others that surround me

I feel like throwing the chair at the window

the beer is not working

bars and clubs and people and city’s and buildings

take em’ all down

we don’t need them

we need quiet and peace sometimes

some never get quiet and peace until death comes over

I feel for them

I wake up not in my house but hers and the coffee is made
I have almost everyday five cups of coffee
The bitter taste wakes me
I am reborn
I start my third cup and she says "stop drinking so much
No wonder you have headaches
You’re ******* dehydrated
Drink more water"
She drinks a liter of water a day
I drink a liter of coffee a day
and i love it. . . love it too much

The cops seem to only have eyes
for the wrong people.

I dig deep some nights in the head
for a romance, but
I'm too weird to kiss you.

Maybe we'll dream together for the
times sake. I love seeing the dogs running
from their owners in the streets.
I remember once my father lost the
dog and the dog was running up the street to
the busy cars.
My father was screaming telling to
stop chasing the dog,
but I kept chasing it.

I never really listen to people you see,
I need help and who wants to listen
to that?
everybody can't stand the mumbling of
a craze.

As the flowers give birth
To more flowers

As we and it slowly goes just to I
And it is better that way

As soldiers come back from the greedy ****** war

As the stranger looks at her and there is something strange in his eyes

As the heartburn comes back, I kneel and almost feel like death punched me

As the only books burn to keep you warm in the winter

As it is so cold, the birds didn’t even make it south, they freeze in mid-air

As it soon ends for us

As it comes

As the rich get more money

As you eat because you aren’t hungry

As it ends

As we end

Wake up for the coffee.

The coffee is always ready for you in the morning.

I usually have two to three cups a day,

sometimes just black,

sometimes I add a little sugar to jolt it up.

I get jolted and soon I'm high on life.

Getting high off of anything and still nothing excites me.

You excite me.

Those eyes,

lips,

skin,

that wet sour *****,

hard  *******

all excite me.

The shotgun hasn't arrived yet; I still don’t even know how to use one.
When it comes though,
I’ll make sure to use it on some damaged goods instead of myself.

The way the bird mocks you is

always disturbing, like how watching the

mother die.

How waiting for the clock to turn

even though it is broken,

I’ve seen the soul, how it burns

away in people faster than a freeway

car crash.


It happens while you watch the bird from the tree

outside mock you.

It mocks you as well with silence,

The bird mocks us while struggling to

build our dreams,

losing all the money,

eating for the last time.

The people think “what does it mean?”

it never and will mean anything.

there was a time when the bird mocked you

from high up in the tree,

you tried to fight back,

you fought with your words and your body,

but still were beaten.

The bird that mocks us wins again.

The bird is not a hero,

maybe it tries to be a beaten up crow,

but he’s too strong to live past that.

It won’t age like wine,

and it will always love to

mock the lower dead

birds.

She wasn't doing good on my bed, with the

night rolling on and I could see

it all come out of  her.

It looked like a tear, one little

tear, she was going down

but soon we became lions

fighting in fire

we became two lions all

over my bed

the kissing was ferocious.

How do these relationships work?

one hour we are fighting

the next hour we are one again

there are always lies flying around the place

how did we all become so jealous?

how did we become so nervous?


he is jealous of him and then he becomes jealous of you.

it’s the vicious circle of life that brings us humans down

he does better but inside the other knows he is better

so you are going to pay.


we attack each other and it becomes uncontrollable

like unexpected heartburn

he is sad

the other is sappy

the other burns inside

the other goes to the bathroom and pukes his heart out

the other throws his tools at the wall

the other makes himself late and causes a stir

the other is high on something and it’s slowing his ability to work

This little kid mostly grew with his mother, at school he rarely got along with the other kids, fought a black kid on the first day of school… well many of his school days were fights and visits to the principal’s office.

This little kid thought he knew the world already, fighting with teachers because he liked seeing anger and destruction from humans. This  little **** would have to  stand against the wall at recess for all those little troubles he caused, He felt lost most days but was always built with happiness, with some fear hiding inside.

He was a emotional **** that cried always the wrongs hours of day, and when the mother got married to a new daddy, the kid and daddy fought always, the daddy screamed, didn’t know what to do.

The little kid had a fight with a girl, the kid pushed the girl down, the daddy got mad and grabbed him and yelled. “YOU NEVER  HIT A GIRL, YOU UNDERSTAND THAT.” This little kid thought he was tough, jumped off high things and til this day has never broken a bone. Other little kids from school didn’t invite him to play because the parents didn’t like him around their own little *****. Little kid wasn’t lonely and he found another kid from his neighborhood to play with, both mostly filled with the same mindset. They both caused little destruction in their city, caused fights and fought each other. He had asthma but still did things that made him lose air and felt like dying. He wrote little notes in books, wrote a letter to god asking how his dead family members were doing, the only kid in the family.

The kid grew more into something else, he stole little things and  killed little things with his foot. the kids at school grew more into him and started some how accepting him. He still was a little **** but they all laughed and thought he was funny. still beating the teachers up and still visiting the principal’s office accepting his letter for suspension,  He probably had the most suspensions at school.

woman and men killing and eating,
woman and men having the best of them all,
what is the best?
where does it lie?
Pulled pork sandwiches on a Sunday afternoon.

and in other houses beside me,
are men and woman
being kind and being loved,
and being fools.
breaking the glass,
drinking until the black covers their eyes.

men and woman breathing and hearing
upon each other,
men and woman beating themselves
sometimes hitting the woman,
slapping the man,
woman and men banging
the bed to hell.

I never hear from the girl who
lives in L.A OR Danville CA.
I live in London On
and there's this blonde
who I would like to meet
but something I fear.
is it me?
We used to talk, now that seems to
be done.

Why does waking up in a bed feel
so torturous some days,
I wake up at night,
two times,
three times.
I can never get a good sleep.
I want to feel someone's legs and
those morning eyes
when waking up at 10 in
the morning.

all the good papers were out at the store

and the fruits were looking to rot,

the plane is still missing,

migraine bells hit my head.

the day was becoming dull,

I saw outside

over hundreds of people.

people in front yards dancing

and the strings of heaven

were playing.

It sounded like Strauss.

Soon it started raining

but the people stayed

in their places and danced

it seemed they didn’t notice the rain

they just stared into each others eyes.

I had found and picked up a empty bottle of wine in the school yard

I decided for some reason to smash it against a garbage can
I was an idiot back than
I soon cut my thumb right open

Blood was everywhere
I rushed to the bathroom and
Turned the faucet on
The blood kept pumping out

I went to the office
I started to faint
seeing static

Four hours in the emergency room
they stuck a needle right in the cut
stitched it up tight

love yourself
love yourself
love yourself.

and don’t be afraid of that light sometimes.
trust me it doesn’t ****.

Goodbye.
Goodnight.

writing keeps me out of the ground.

and nobody in their 20’s should be in love.

what the **** is wrong with me?


hell, tonight the city cries,

hell must some kind of place to see,

but I won’t ever see it,

i don’t want to see it.


will I see you in ten years?

will I finally reach the celebration?

no celebration will ever be satisfied in me,

because holidays are a crime.

I want to see you tonight,

no, tonight will never come again.

when nothing on this earth has made me cry,

but on a Friday night, 3 AM,

maybe i feel like sobbing.

but it never happens

all those tears have flown down

through my liver and  have turned to ****.

after my long ****,

I enter my dark room,

the worst part knowing that you’re a couple blocks away.

13 dollars it costs to see you, but i never have the money.

i wait for the sun to come up,

it’s finally warm outside,

it’s all coming back alive.

winning the slots

but the money never returns

and seeing drunk eyes

look into my eyes

The money never wins

the child is dead

the woman

the mother

weeps

my mother

weeps for me

and she cried

but was more empty

when her child died

Who ever thinks they

will give birth to a dead

baby?

who ever thinks  tonight is

the last night for them?

better hide

the people are strange

tonight

creeping in windows

touching themselves


I want death

death come on over

I’m waiting tired on the couch

waiting

drinking harsh whiskey

waiting

the clouds woke up
the poet vomiting in
the kitchen
knives in the kitchen
drowning himself in
the bathtub
the clouds are up
and the poet is
biting his nails
eating raw ham
******* the mattress
I saw the broken windows
and screams from the poet
are echoing through the
town
the poet has walks at night
feeling inside the body
declining
fifty more smokes
in the poet
the clouds are sleeping
rain and walking
through the dead town
he doesn’t believe in miracles
doesn’t have a god
and if god was there
he would hate him
the poet playing with
himself and biting the
****** skin
the clouds wake up
and he cannot get up
he has mighty chest pains
and hasn’t eaten in
two days
the starving poet
the lonely poet
had a wife
but she’s underground
being eaten
by the bugs
all bones
suffering one more
day going outside
he is scared
the pills make him scared
a human helps
the cops come
blood everywhere.

People talking about nothing
In a room of incoherent thinking.
Some money beggars,
Some are poor animals.
They only think about
Want and pleasing.

Nothing will get done.
A man watches the woman
Put some blush on
Another woman is having
Her period.
She thinks of getting pills
To stop her periods
Because the cramps make
Her a suicide case.

You know what the guys are thinking.
Still little gets done
In a room full of these people
Filled with nothing

Hemingway’s shotgun blasted head haunting my dreams

with Nietzsche in the corner blabbing
HIS EYES WIDE OPEN

I could write probably a hundred poems a week about my dreams.

especially when I have nothing to write about

some stupid poem comes along and I write it down

but of course when I think of a good poem

I have nothing to write with

Poetry is too easy and sad to live with

Poetry is nothing

You are nothing

I am nothing

That’s just how the world works.

angel America

have you met ******* scared Canada?

or is it the other way around?

the alarm kept ringing
It’s shaking my head
and ruins the morning wood
My brain is stirring


I kept on trying to
get out of bed
But I’d only slept for
Four hours

I find the shower
I have no coffee
The mirror makes my
eyes look dead

the water is white
And in L.A
In some ****** hotel
A dead woman
gives them black
water and
they still drink it up


What was the point of
living last week?
Birds aren’t around anymore
maybe I should go back to bed


I left my little town
to come back to
The city
I don’t have much


Who’s gonna save me?
God died last year.
Who’s gonna save you?

Look

look at those children swim in cyanide

look at the men whip their wives with a spine

look at the animals that starve and

they ***** their shadows

look at the clock, how it slows us down

look at those birds, I think they know something

look at those women chewing on their own breast

look at the newspaper and the journalist has something

real to say.

look in my world and your world

how close, how different.

listening to GSYBE!

listening to Chopin and deerhunter

my ears bleed ease with sounds of flash

and it makes life for some easier


but for me it brings a feeling of death and uncertain

listening to waves of sound from the genius that

climbs the stairway to utter madness and taste

music builds through the bones and vomits out the mouth

**** beautiful watching the flowers grow


with the sun glaring in my eyes

with people talking without a word to say

I sit on the school bench and close my eyes

hearing peace and *** and noise and obstruction

music will always play on with the people

mainstream eats the dirt of music and enjoys it

music lives

music kills the young

writer's block has been trying
to go down my throat and
down the chest
dive in the stomach acid
swim in the intestines
writer's block
has been trying hard
to get me,
see what I did there.

Oh mother
You poor soul
So inclined to waste long ago
By the death of your children.

I watched and I noticed
But i was in my own haze of
A mind to look away and
Be myself while pondering
And seeing images of the baby’s
Grave.

You tried and just like the millions of other babies that tried
But never saw the light and your tears and the silence of the baby coming out of you
doesn’t haunt you anymore.

It’s alright mother
You finally survived.

I can’t sleep, it’s four in the morning, and my mind is pouring out
like water out my ear lobe.
passed out clocks,
dooming my
slumped eyes.

Too many know Sandy Hook
but they don’t know about
the stabbings of the little ones
in China that happened on the same day.


Aside from that
men who cannot get out of the fire
and who cannot be tamed
are true animals

I gaze into the sun
and somehow it doesn't hurt the eyes.

I soon am the sun
drying out the grass
and the people dry up too.

I gaze into the sun
and it fascinates me the
turning colours in the circle
of fire.

A bowl of soup that
never goes old and my feet  
are cold sweating
and stink and eat the dead skin…
I want this and that
it will never come out perfect almost like writing a poem
that fits the  state of perfection and
when it’s done that perfection dies out.
I paint a ugly dog with a smile
when music is too loud
when fingers tremble
you know time is almost done
little  drops of air come out of you
little crystal tears do not come
out of you no more

The defeat,

and the social clock destroyed.

where I could be in a factory

helping to build you a new car,

I rather burn and sit,

it fits the situation perfectly.

I feel sad,

but it’s better to live with

that light shining out your eyes.

I write better half drunk

with the moon in a lonesome

room feeling pathetic,

wanting the old you back.

love burns my insides

and my heart races.

I can’t think right now,

tonight you could’ve been

my home.

but other bodies will tumble

on beds with burning love.

we aren’t those things anymore,

my garden dies from the cold,

the factory is calling me back.

She lost her uncle from a drowning
and I had lost my sister to almost
the same feeling of no air
chocking
my sister never got to see the
light of day
it made us closer knowing we both
faced tragedy at a young age
we listened to music at night
she starts crying because she
misses her uncle
she cried in my arms
crying for her uncle
for her ex whom she cheated on
with me
One time I threw her off me
she got me mad
she got off my bed
put her shoes on
was about to walk out my door
suddenly I said wait come here
she of course starts crying

I had hurt her many times
she did the same
why didn't I let her go?
relationships are sometimes a
******* war
and I kept making sure
the war never stopped

I don’t know if women ever
imagine a man crying,
in his room while nothing
plays, and the quiet
makes him more sad.

you see a woman break down;
easily and how a man stands there
looking at his father or mother’s
grave, and doesn’t cry ever.

some men think if you
cry,
you are weaker than the dirt that
sinks in your shoes.

Hell I cried one night
after seeing a young
woman
who I thought I loved,
and all I did was
pour that liquor down
to the liver and make
me smile again.
you *******.


I saw my baby sister’s
grave and held on steady,
but we kept on going to
other known graves,
and the steadiness of
tears on me.
flowed on out
like the river rising
and killing us all.

My pinky was bleeding furiously and soon the bus came

to pick me up.

the bus was crowded, I fell at the seat right in front of me,

deciding to sit beside a cute blonde rich girl talking to her friends.

The finger blood had dried, so I asked the Blonde.

"Hey, you got a bandage or anything? I’m bleeding to death."

"what?"

"Said, you got a band-aid, anything, my finger is trying to **** me."

"no, haha, sorry."

As I turned my head, some old snail was giving me some stare.

I gave her my own stare as well.

The bus smelled like raw cheese.

Cheese that wasn’t made for human consumption.

Tomorrow is a new day, a day where you will maybe feel the same as yesterday, suicide knocks on your door, don’t answer it.
It is 5 am now and I am writing poems on my computer about love and girls
The computer has no emotions
My lonely hard **** has no emotions
and life. . . Life is just life.

As the morning rises
And the good people
Wake up and eat their
fine breakfast
I ***** old dinner and beer
With the sun.
And I can hear the people
drive by with work in them,
I lie in bed.
Half naked and hardly living.

do you know your weak eyes always look stronger
than the  bones that try to **** you.
the people you think that try to **** you
have nothing to afford,
Your weak eyes binge,
I take a photograph and
your weak bones show.
but I’ll rip it up
because that photograph doesn’t show
your true bones.
I don’t need to use photographs
or words to make you look good.

I don’t mess around
and we know
we’ve put a lot of
love and damage
in each other

I play the act of
the unknown
genius
someone who
puts words
into the blender
and makes art

a bed will
carry
*** and death
around
until it breaks

most people are
broken people
watching other people
that can beat it all
and live again
they have the secret
but really there is no secret

I was in a hurry; late for work and having to take a mighty ****.

I rushed into the bathroom, pulled it out,

It came out like a rushing river.

Little drops of yellow rain

fell on the seat

and I wiped it off

Rushed back downstairs,

I kicked the screen door open

the sun was out

the humidity was rising.

I started sweating, and I got into the car speeding off to the freeway.

I was a lion chasing its prey

my prey was getting into work on time.

there was never any greatest                                                                        

the bell is ringing                                                                                                            

the wall is torn down

people talking bore me to death                                                                          

models are ugly                                                                                                            

where are the real  girls in this city that know how to drink?

Drinking in lazy bars

I’m a soft man

the greatest

being hassled by the local drug dealers

and downtown shows- ***** fights

from drunken bozo’s

escape never no never escape

escape from downtown at night

people go crazy

I go crazy in a midnight bar with

others that surround me

I feel like throwing the chair at the window

the beer is not working

bars and clubs and people and city’s and buildings

take em’ all down

we don’t need them

we need quiet and peace sometimes

some never get quiet and peace until death comes over

I feel for them

Why am I always thinking about the times that I waste but does good.

How many people are ******* tonight?

How many people are shooting dope tonight?

How many dying on the streets with only a dime in their pocket?

Too many people are starving tonight.

Too many children died tonight.

How does the coffin maker feel when he makes graves
about the size of a human being that should be in a crib?
Still the days go on, and the mother hears cries but
she wakes up with no one beside her.

The day goes on and I’m still here and I’m doing fine thanks.
but when the night comes and you’re still alone,
do you pull the trigger? Or dig out of the hole?

it seems the spiders are taking over this

small town

last year was the infestation of the flies

a spider on my wall

eating another bugs heart out

ripping its limbs

and tearing away the body

the spider thinks it is  king in my house

another four out of nowhere

and my book

my foot **** the *******

killing something innocent

I am guilty