While waiting, tired and sore, my eyes tremble in
awareness. Trying to wake up in a notorious dream.
Bronze statues of gay senators, tales of despair, and
maniacs. I think of Ginsberg and his reach to free
speech, to tell all the fakers to smoke a dinosaur,
to see the real world. I think of my sister, deceased,
rotting down below, people praying to their unreal God.

I dream of living in a narrow world, where the creeps judge
the freaks, and prey on the high school cheerleaders.

3 lights, 2 dead, 1 burning out.

I sit in my square bedroom,
bay side blue walls. My heroes are dead,
my only brother dead, paintings from my faded out great-grandmother hanging on the wall.
Cd’s of suicidal music,
stolen books from school,
MAD magazines, no not that kind of madness you schmuck!
Books filled with my ***** word poetry,
two alarm clocks, one for noise, and the other
for amusement. I sink, getting more tired, sinking in my box bed.
What will I dream tonight?
Sleep.
I wake up with Shakespeare written on my lips.



2009

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?

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.

London ON has it’s crazies,
the one, well… Well he was a good guy.
I was drunk and sad and waiting for the bus.
The old crazy comes out of the corner
like some ****** greaser.
He mumbles everything and looks sad as well.

We both got on the bus, and we talk, no…
Mostly he talks (mumbles),
and he shows me his buss pass.
It is from 1986, and for reasons unknown,
has not gotten a new one.

I don’t know how it still has its use,
and I don’t know why, it feels, they
always come and talk to me.
they just can’t leave me alone.

but again he was a good guy,
a wise old ****,
We both got off the same stop,
I give him three bucks for a drink,
and head off to the bar.

the bar was empty and so was I
and getting filled up on coke and wh
isky.

who now sleeps in your tides of a body?
now I give up
The bed,
The food,
The time
Lives.

I don’t think heaven is here
I don’t believe in your god
Take me away to
another soft tide of a body
The milk shades in rooms

naked people on streets
The homeless finally smile.

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.

In the headlines it said some guy
hanged himself by tooth floss.
then I decided to go into
the washroom and floss my teeth.
the gums started bleeding,
I could taste it.
I spat warm dark blood in the
sink, letting the tap wash it away,
My gums were more disturbed than
the brutal killing of a pig.
the inside of my nose is also dry.

The free press in this town
is horrible,

what about the crazy old man
that’s always stopping in the
streets picking things off the
road, maybe he knows more than
the mayor.
Well of course there’s always
someone better we’ll never know
or ever find him and make him a winner.
A better love is in Mexico,
but in Canada you will never
see Mexico and you’ll just be in
love with every girl
because you think it’s all unfair.

some kids are already playing the adult.
some adults will forever be kids,
There is nothing we can do,
I’m not going to save them
I’m just going to go to the store
and buy a four dollar scratch
ticket to get something out
of something.

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

two bodies

and they are filled with lies

two bodies
that don't love each other anymore
music never plays again
I imagine seeing you
Sherri in my bedroom
right now
you see me drinking
hard at one pm
I know you would be
sad and yelling at me
What the **** is wrong with you!
and the best of all
I would be taking it all from you
I feel too bad to yell back at you
your eyes shine in the room
while yelling
and I'm in love again.

my pain is numb
what is your pain like?
I seem to always have dreams
of Sherri and old friends and
old classmates who never think
of me
but I think of them.
Is that what a nightmare is?

flesh crayons and acrylic paints

on the white cardboard

I see long leg dogs and paint ***** and

odd shapes in my head


I brush the flesh on the board


hard red colours

blackish brown

orange and mango and sky blue paint

gets on the tides of the carpet

what to paint next

I’m always drawing faces

ugly girls with love eyes

and the mole between the nose and the lip

small *******.


I should call my art UNSOBER Arte, I painted

being on something

the colours move and swish

they dry fast

it’s freak art

bad really bad art

I know you won’t somber to it

that’s fine.

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

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.

and that there are as many lonely people out there

like you and me

some think they are different but there are many others who think they are different too

don’t be ashamed to think about  suicide

because i think about suicide

just like a million other people

and you can see I’m still here

and you are too.

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.

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

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?

Drinking red wine beside her

in a warm house

welcoming and it’s finally calm

I feel good inside

the wine hits

and you smile with drunken love

soon it deteriorates

the wine never deteriorates

it lays still inside me

and I’m smiling with drunkeness

all over me

you wave goodbye at the bus stop

goodbye until the summer dies down

and soon we meet again

but not in love

oh baby you’re crazy

but that’s alright

baby i’m worried

and feel sick

you left for the weekend and

i”m vomiting 60 bucks  of *****

I had bought and now it's in the toilet

flushing away
60 dollars of whiskey and *** and coke and other
some food particles
but how you feel really good afterwards
after the huge mess comes out of you

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.

I was trying to write 200 poems in one day.
I hadn’t slept and I felt like I was
going insane.
what to write,
there is everything to write about,
and this poem will do now, and I
don’t even know why I was
trying to write 200 poems.
Nobody has heard of me,
and these won’t get me a pay check.
a big pay check to survive alone
and live.
I couldn’t stop
and I was asking myself?

what the hell was the point?
don’t give up though.
"don’t try" like the old bull said.
what to do.
what to do.

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.

My good friend and I
we found cigarette butts
and he put them in his mouth
Pretending to smoke
He had a little fish pond
And in the winter
I would try to walk over it
Breaking the ice making my leg
Freeze and smell like dead fish
****
We threw rocks at this crazy old guys house
we always tried to start ****
we were twelve
Ten or something
and renting R rated movies
At the convenience store
While stealing 50 cent candies
and then going out causing more trouble to the world
Stressing out the world
i was never scared at that age of time
Now it seems almost everything scares me
The real world isn’t ready for me
I rather stay inside and drink the day away
Well you can come over
Only if you bring more *****
the school hated me
The teachers hated me
the people were nothing important
I rather be dead than to see these people again
It seems i just eat work sleep **** **** sleep eat **** **** work eat…
where did my youth go?
It seemed good
Many troubles
Many times being alone
I am still alone
the music plays all night
Hemingway take me to your bull fights
Thompson take me to the shooting range
drinking and more drinking
Will also occur
The music plays
and I’m still living
the days are the same