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.

she lights her favorite candle and then pulls her cigarette from her lips and lights it from the candle

she goes to the kitchen and starts cutting the fresh mango and sees some blueberries and grabs a handful throws them in her mouth and chews

she is always talking and sometimes when I talk she talks over me to talk for me

after the fruit and how I wonder what it tasted like mixed with cigarette smoke she kissed her lips to me and says let’s go for a walk

we go out with the growing back trees beside us and no cold wind

she isn’t talking

she is looking                  

she wants to go to the gym and I tell her for the hundredth time I don’t do the gym  

observing the life of nature

there is peace in the wombs of the road

as always she is hungry and we go buy

a chicken shawarma

outside with her smile and we see Bobby the hunk

with his Wanda who looks like a lion


she wants the park and I want a bed

I want her

with awful love blooming

I can’t find her love

My friend tells me he gave up on his girl because she got lazy and smoked crazy dope too much and got sightly fat and got too much of a barrel of bombs that shouldn’t be around no more, throw her over the bridge, he gets fit and I get drunk and get lost in the streets and this little belly on me from something is soft and mean, good night I never hear in this house, crumbs on the table, crumbs and maybe mice- something- will feed from my food crumbs in the black night.

***** floor and the carpet in my bedroom stinks and it feels rough and I don’t have that girl to clean up for me, and no food to cook, I cook something and it tastes good, I’m a good cook, I should have been a cook.

I should have been something good in life but laziness takes over and ambition is nowhere to be found- how it felt to have you around once not eating for two days and you gave me your food, your soul, It made me fall for you more in some room that we will never touch again.

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.

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.

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.

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 hurt.
myself and others,
while the lions break free.
I am a little bird dying
in its nest,
and giving up.
A bird trying to fly,
and hiding from the
other birds.
I am a tough bird
who doesn’t show much,
but I don’t understand
how they see the sadness in my face,
how do they see it?
I gave up once trying
while the lions broke free.
The male birds sing in their
heads at night while
the lions can actually sleep.

my eyes are tired and dry

it’s freezing in my room

my blanket does some warmth

where is the girl?

touch of bodies

with winners

and junk heads

I ate cheese - white cheese and crackers

and red pepper dip


my **** felt sore and I ****** five times today

one was in the shower

a warm slutty shower on me

wet and there’s a stain on the towel

clean underwear in the desk drawer

grey socks

my hair is a mess


i drink a glass of water

I peel my dead skin

people are too loud outside

their voices cave through my garage

and it irritates me

it creeps all over on me

I greed for something to make it all go away

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.

winning the slots

but the money never returns

and seeing drunk eyes

look into my eyes

The money never wins

apple cider
burns.
Why haven’t you
eaten your vegetables?
why don’t you ever smile?

I failed myself and took
off and walked in the
oblivion forest.
Came back more scared.
I always think.
I have a pocket knife
but I know that won’t save me.

I’m stuck in this hole mother.
I’ve become an ******* to you,
to others.
While at home-
My home far away
from you and others.
Hide in beds
eating stale bread
with cheese.

Outside has it advantages.
but you know
some people
look at other people

they
smile
or sneer.
they walk to the far side
noticing
a ***** *** needing
fool in his soul.
he mumbles,
what is he saying,
he mumbles,
other people want to be other people,
they are too scared to become themselves.

A knife fight happens downtown
somebody yells *****
and tries to hit the other guy’s woman.
what a fight.
but of course the cops appear
out of nowhere.
the night action is done
for today.

my sister is dead,
and that hit me hard.
my baby sister is dead
and that got to me.

I ached for death too when it
happened.
got depressed.
Wrote poems that would’ve
put me in a psych ward.

No angels tonight in heaven.
No heaven at all.
just the night sky,
the night and I alone tonight.

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.

love-made hooligans. Partied with drug influence parted minds.
I saw Nietzsche, drawn, blabbing, crying. Sage into madness.
Paintings done in Rome, JFK, blood bombs flee over ****** U.S.S.R.
Gone into discerning schools, racist pigs, beatings for the prime minister.
I waited in vain, woke up in Vain. Died on Golden Buddhas,
Caucasians shaving their heads.
2 am hanged from pleasure, hallucinated dogs in hallways, screamed the truth in barks of airwaves.
What will come for me after death?

Now today the people
are afraid to grow old.

I fear my mother still seems to act like a 20 yr old.

she is 40.
doomed for sure I am some day.

There’s this old piano from my great grandparents in my parents living room.
Half the keys don’t work
And it’s out of tune.
Doesn’t mean i don’t play it
But I’m no Chopin
And I have never learned how to play the piano
But whatever I play
It is always pleasant to my ears.

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.

the casino taunts me and
I always want to go,
well most days…
I like to gamble but
the gambling takes time.
learn to win.
learn to lose.
I could never win big,
who knows in the future what may hold me.
but I am ready,
the winnings will come;
big winnings hopefully will come soon,
sooner than I hope.
I hate money but always want it.
money taunts me, and I spend it
on poison.
good poison that makes me feel good.

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’m working on this story about nothing,
and I know it’ll never get done.
I’m not ready for novels,
I haven’t lived yet.
Living with her 24hrs a day.
You don’t need to starve
to get anything done.
Help is everywhere.
Smile while death is crying above from the eruption of happiness

Words won’t save you
Only you can save you

Words help but fade
Of mud stuck in the shoe
Scraping it off right away.

We all can dip in the sea
Of reality and sink and see
That some are frowning with money
All around them
and others eat bread and water
Without giving up.

Little girls die in woods
and the molester gets hanged

All little things happening
Right now behind you in a
Sphere of water and dirt.

Your green grass shines.
Others grass burns slowly,
Dries and dies slowly.

When will I reach fifty?
This world seems already dead.
What world looks away from help
something is wrong with
Some people.
Something is wrong with me
Some days.

Looking in the mirror
the morning is here
And my eyes look droopy
The black lines under
My eyes
Where did they come from?
Maybe cause’ I never sleep
Well i never want to sleep
Because it seems
The night and I belong
Together
But morning comes
even getting a good night rest
You are still stuck in bed
The mirror tries to scare
me with my tired face
I look ugly
Inside it’s probably uglier
I do not know

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

While scratching my chest hairs
with my pocket knife.
I was on my stained bed,
with tiny crumbs, with stains
of blood from my cut finger
from the other night.

I scratch softly,
The boredom amuses me,
kills me.

The funeral March plays softly on
the stereo.
I started liking beer,
it’s taking over the wine.
I drink,
I smoke,
well, what else is there to do on a Wednesday night?
**** myself?
But then I’ll have to get out of bed and right now,
this bed is my heaven and my muse at the moment.

Jazz muse
Rock muse
Classical muse
Blues muse
All the muse in the world.

How the loneliness drowns,
how you are never near now,
and I feel fine with the piano
Playing in the background.
inside my room and the sun
Is out I am peeling away
I am hiding feeling blue
With side fears eating me
Inside
The music plays
The loneliness is here to stay
I type you a poem
That you will never read
while the wolves in the forest starve
The birds throw up their meal
The fish die from poison lakes
you are sleeping in a dark room with no one and I am alone as well

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

The head of Caesar,
with drops of rain,
and drops of defeat.

my head hurts,
I feel sick, and
I’m starting to get a bad
coarse cough.

Lost with nothing in my pockets
and love through my body

I drink some wine
I eat some chicken and other foods

Where did the peace go?

The night is always a good time for
Eating,
killing,
*******,
And other crimes.

Now living on my own, she wasn’t there beside me anymore.
Sometimes this was good, I slept better alone.
Why was it whenever I wanted to sleep,
the one that left me always got upset when I wanted my rest alone.
“Babe, I told you I sleep better by myself.”
“Yeah… I know.”
“don’t worry, tomorrow I’ll be a new man. Surprise me in the morning.”
The next day, the sun woke me up.
She wasn’t there, she didn’t show up.
I smiled, and went in the bathroom to take the greatest **** in the world.

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.

the pork is hot
with hell spices burning the tongue
I live with a country guy who loves his beer
but it feels I live with myself
well I am always on my own
the old love doesn’t want to see me
and I care too much

I watch her sitting on the couch,
and she’s trying hard not to cry.
No baby by her side cause' the baby is upstairs.
maybe I wanna’ be upstairs too.

I watch her pop a few pills, two more in the afternoon,
maybe two more to fall asleep.
She never sleeps, but
she got better a few years after
when the baby turned four.

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

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.

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.

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 was mad,
I grabbed her door and shook it hard.
I was ******.
Cherie came rushing at me,
screaming
"GET OUT.”
ohh I’ll be out soon darling.
I got to my room, still ******,
and then the bad sorrowful feelings came.

I felt sick and I felt bad,
I couldn’t call her.
never call a woman when she is out of her place,
leave them be.
the next day you will hear from them.

but this was mostly my fault
I didn’t know what to do.
I always think-I  know the answer,
but really I know nothing.

The ***** man is here to see you,
his eyes make you stumble, and
it makes you glow red.
laughing, what’s the matter?
The ***** man is back again,
he wants you so bad.
Your life is miserable already,
why not give him a hand.

It was too silent like as if John cage
were playing the piano
and no one felt safe


someone threw up in the dark

the alcohol in me came to quickly

   and stars brightened and the streets turned to waves of light


Monet or was it Matisse

I believe Monet was dead

and Matisse was laughing his

head off while painting the drunk street

into his mind of colours


jazz kills opera

****** becomes a fad

the spider dreams of its

teeth in flesh


little girls dance

on the stage

and the mothers will cry

with their veins popping

out their forehead from cheering

the little girls do not hear

           the cheers


it’s silent as john cage finishes

          his piece

and now we can hear the clapping

cracking the knuckles

and the sound of the lion horde appears,

cracking the back and feeling warm.


I can’t sleep tonight,

it seems sleep doesn’t need me,

and I feel sad or warmth.

only the sadness reaches deeply inside

at night and that the lion horde

sounds in the head disappear.


waking up with a sick stomach,

waking up with heartburn,

a ****** dry nose.

coughing the black out the lungs.


I can’t see.

Numb babies touch me,

oh heaven where are you?

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

In the news,
a man beats a dog with a hammer,
and it seems the rapes and the killings
didn’t make the deadline and
were cut out for that day.

the other body

the kid who enters the other body to find a new miracle

will never find his true self.

Taking his virginity of life

will never satisfy the way he sees

the other side.

It was the end of September

you in my bed,

you were still in a relationship

it felt wrong, your boyfriend at home was missing you

and now you were on top  a new guy

which was me.

for some reason i didn’t stop you,

  no other woman i had before ever wanted me so badly.

maybe there is a god.


the first night she pulled my pants right off,

fondling my ****** ****.


She kept playing with it, wouldn’t get hard, asked if I had a problem.

"No, it’s almost 5 in the morning and I’m too tired to get it up."

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.

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.

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.

singing
old songs in the
room alone
no one is home
and you do know
some like to roam
naked
in
the house
when
it's only
them
and the closed
doors.
Weird stuff
happens
and It happens
day by day
we will see it
well if they like to show it on the streets
than we'll see it
but some like to hide it
and they act as something else
behind closed doors.

The way I see the world

Little parts I’ve lived in and visited

Too many people in trouble

Too many people with a goal that leads to nowhere

Some smile with so tiny effort

Cause they already gave their soul away

To the country

They seem to love

The people my age

don’t have a clue on how to live

some go down under the edge

and eat their life apart

some try so hard to make it

that they throw the chance of living away

and when they finally have that chance

they crash and burn