I'd rather die than listen to your poetry.
**** pellets of perfection,
Forget rhyme, rhythm or talent,
Leave that **** for the poets,
The saps and the *******.
Don't start with that alliteration.
No pantooms or odes.
I'd rather place my head on the chopping block.
I'd rather watch blood with such high viscosity,
That it flails and leaps toward the opened mouth,
Pleading "no more! No more!"

Relax, de-stress, the moon is full tonight
The stars are out, faces turned forward
Trials painted end to end
Your heart never felt so bright
So good night stars, and good night moon
Tomorrow’s quick to come
Awaken to the face of the rising saint,
I’m glad this day is done.


They say early to bed, early to rise
If I wake to the absence of our smile,
Was it worth the rest I took?
What am I here to compromise?
I’ve heard what They say about love,
I’m really not impressed
Like I said, now you’re de-stressed,
Time to compress, to digest my exposition.

If your heart doesn’t flutter like mine,
Relax, all will come in time.

You can’t see me,
But I’m here at my desk,
In a gray swivel chair,
In a sea of cubicles.
But you can’t see me.
And you can’t see
My colleagues
Over the shoulder
Concerned faces.
Or their quiet looks
Of sympathy.
And you can’t hear me,
Because you’re too busy,
Screaming.
And I know
You’re scared.
“My loved ones are being taken advantage of“
You say,
But this is a one sided conversation.
So I let you talk,
And I let you end it.
“Go **** yourself,”
I say to a dead line.
And I go out for pretzels and beer.

For since I do not have you,
I must remember best I can,
The days like this past Monday,
When a spliff was in my hand.

I found myself searching
For that feeling in my mouth,
The one that make saliva smack,
And had me heading south.

Down to the Circle-K of course,
Since water could not cure--
And gum could not be found,
Up the isle, I saw, obscured.

Gatorade!--Amongst the chips and chocolate,
I wandered through that maze,
Oh cottonmouth, you waited so patiently,
In that silly haze.

Tie a string to your finger,
So you can remember,
That love,
Is hard,
To come by.
It's hard to keep,
And even harder to ignore.

Let that string remain.
Let it get coarse and thin.
Let it dangle as you run.
Let it soak in the bath,
Taking up suds,
While you take off grime.

Untie.
Tie.
Untie.
Let it fall on the table.
Let your fat cat chase it.
Put it on the stove,
And watch it burn to nothing.

Take the ashes to the streets,
Keep them in your pocket as you run,
As they seep through the seems,
Feel the dust fall down your leg.
Let your skin absorb its memory,
Like graffiti pops on a blank wall,
Like a trail beaten into the earth remains,
Long after it's abandoned.
Like the stain of sauce on that fresh white shirt.

Like a string tied to your finger.
All of which can never be forgotten.
Should never be forgotten.

Do not deny that bow once sat,
Perched on your pinkie.
Do not ignore the future it implied,
Or your expectations.
And know that,
That red line,
Remains,
Even after the string is gone.
It never truly disappears.

I hope you won't
Wear wind chimes that always annoy the cat,
Or wear that ring, you single gal,
Or wear your box of shame,
Or wear that smile.

I hope you won't
Wear a look of exchanged stabbings,
Or wear an open-hearted pendant,
Or wear anything at all,
And certainly not that one red dress.

"When you can't sleep,
Write poetry.
When you can't write,
Sleep.
When you can't do either,
It's time to dance away
The fear of strikingly crude words on paper.
The fear of dreams that foretell futures.
The fear that questions asked
Are not dismissed, but answered,
Honestly.
Dance away brief moments of distain.
Dance in the night's waves of raindrops,
Dance in the wind's minute synapses,
These moments are eternal
Within the mind."

Tension at the table.
They break bread
As you would faces.
They talk with tongues tense
Through taunt teeth.
It’s family dinner.

And although you sit miles away,
You’re sitting there now.
Each chair squeaks.
You're anxious,
To shift weight.
Utters of small talk,
As you wait for the implosion.

Break dishes in your dirt yard.
2. Carry the largest pieces to your mom.
3. Tell her what they mean to you.
4. Cut two gashes down your arm.
5. Bleed. Bleed for the death of your dishes.

Dainty frill below the waist
Elegance—a chalk line around her body
Warmth still there today
Even though she’s not
There’s a single stain,
“shush,” there was a stain
Now just folds of blankets
Mountains upon valleys
Caverns and river basins
All the way to him
In her spot, alone,
Finger on the stain
With ***** nails,
And foam eyes.

Dear time,

We once got along.
Peas in a pod with
Symbiotic stature.

Now we take our paces.
Make our cruel remarks
And give tears away
Before siestas.

Love and lust
Share a common goal
But attack with different strides.
One leaps,
One slithers,
Both plead,
Both gravel,
Neither lies,
Nor listens,
Yet both will fail.
Since love and lust both find
That there are no quick resolutions.
No absolute solutions.
No
Happy
Endings.
Only temporary fixes
To never-ending problems
Within themselves.

They search
And search,
And all that arises is
Desire for contempt.

Now I have to ask,
“Have you found the cure?”
“To what?” They scold.
“To the common cold,
The sickness of perceived loneliness
And fear of solitude,
The endless search
For that one individual
Who’ll fulfill all your needs
Whole-heartedly.”
“And what
Could be wrong
With that?”
“Delusions, False-hopes, and self-deception to start…
But don’t forget about your heart,
It loves you.
And it
Believes you.
And settled within the comforts of your skin
And the sound of your breathing,
It has faith in you.”

Cut me up.
Right down the middle,
From temple to toes
From heart to soul.
Thanks, thoughts.
Bleed for this moment,
Feeling the brisk breeze,
Let time be your anchor,
And breathe.

Let these be the guidelines.
Only follow the childhood dimples.
The eye's laugh line.
Follow the faint definition down their arms.
Find that spot along the waist.
The dropoff by the hip bone.
Where only those you love can rest a calm hand.
Feel the rough hands
And make note the spot
Where the coarse turns to soft
And realize we all have our rough spots
And they are always followed by smooth patches.
Hear them breathe.
Listen to the heart as you would a piano lesson
Ready to imbrace new patterns
New ambiance
New tempo.
Nuances.
Opt to rest your head,
To close your eyes,
To tell yourself that time is nothing
And that this moment is every moment.
Tell yourself that love is real but that people don't exist.
Tell yourself you are asleep.
Tell yourself that only children's dimples are beautiful.

Bank wide,
Swerve left,
Avoid those open ended statements.
Steer clear,
Of those monumental days,
Of pauses,
Where life decisions are made.
Of sideways glances,
And images stamped
Upon old lover's faces,
Who realize they've fallen out of love.

Disappointments bitter stain,
I feel it eating through positivity,
festering beneath a grumbling tummy,
I feel it,
But I do not want to feel.
I am aware,
But I want to sink down through the covers,
Until the bed sits above me hovering,
And no one knows I'm down here.
No one can watch me,
Judge me,
Dictate what they think,
I must be feeling,
What I must have done to deserve this punishment.
Down here,
I want **** to cold cement floor
Down in the bed's depths.
I want to feel the crumbs between my fingers,
As I maneuver myself into fetal position.
I want to hear each tear resonate as it crashes.
I want it so cold that tears burn my cheeks,
Freeze on the way down,
And cut like glass,
Just so that I can feel my tears are justified.

I want
to make
the truth
flow.
This is not an essay.
Or an open wound.
True debauchery, no, true inspiration
Must come from
What has been
Crossed out, no, from what has been done before.
It will, no, it must ripple along muscles pulling strings as puppeteer,
to the beat of your tapping brain.
It will, yes it will, hit the bass and vibrate.

I came back from Nicaragua
And you came with me.
Now you and I are so close,
But I feel your affects on me
And sometimes
I wonder if this thing we have
Will work....
I know you love me—and all,
But I’m just not
That fond
Of parasites.

Balance on my heel
For a moment,
Make sure I'm real

Let's tip toe
Through the family hall
With steps you know

When I think of you,
My Mind detaches my Heart from my Body.
It floats alone.
It teeters to the rhythm of the words you say.
It nests itself in the warmth between my legs,
When you say "I'm still hurt".
It elevates and rolls in front of me,
As if powered by hot air.
But it easily deflates like helium balloons,
To the point where it sits empty on the floor,
With its legs straight out in front,
Cracking its toes and rolling its ankles in confusion.
Sometimes my Heart stands on tip toes,
Reaches with fingertips extended,
Waiving at my Body,
Pleading for me to put it back in its place.  
But my Mind pays no mind to its advances.  
My Mind's ulterior motive is to divorce my heart,
To separate entirely.
To be completely distant entities.
They were once lovers,
Who've now found comfort in each other's pain.

A little vine grows darker everyday,
Wrapped around the tree of life,
He slowly makes his way.
Inch, by inch, ascending higher,
No bark wards off his wrath,
Strangling the limbs that quickly tire,
While rotten cores linger beside his path.
As extremities whisper and make their peace,
Branches break and new twigs resonate,
But shivers slowly cease.

A flutter of that second hand,
Chaos has arrived.
Sinking from your quick defeat,
A mind once gone awry,
A flash of chance,
A cure is derived.
One simple circle, candy coated,
Lies beneath the clock.
Inspiration blocked by a daily Zoloft.
The water runs,
Down it goes,
Thirty minutes till the shock,
Stress suddenly slows self respect to soft.
A conscious now defeated,
Feelings put on hold,
In the name of yearning,
Minds must be controlled.

And I am just a fool
In a robe
With a gavel
And the power to take your life away.
And you are just a soul
In a body
In a suit
In a chair
In a court house,
Sweating.
And my mind
Is just matter
Resting in fluid
In a bony shell
Recalling experiences
Generating signals
Connecting synapses,
Speculating the reasons
For your
Poor judgement.
And you
Sit up straight
Back arched
Hands together
Upon your lap
Hair tickling your nose
You won't touch
For hours.
And I
Will make
No
Decision today.

Wrestle with your patio chairs, break one, bow to one, let one go.


Look into the mirror. Take time to smash it to pieces. See yourself.


Break down on 4th. Stand still to watch people pass. Know: Footsteps don't mean "sorry".


On two pages put together, write hard. Shade the bottom page for answers.


Books you have no intention of reading should be highlighted--not burned.


Put strangers in frames. When people ask, reply: "they're just my past."


Cigarette butts in your backyard are artwork. Kick for inspiration.


Open sores hurt when salt rains down from the sky. Too bad your wounds are from lightning.


She thought that lies opened doors. But the janitor heard and locked her out.


Hurry up to slow down. Wheels above ground control little more than planes.


Thoughts of seawater whipping the cliffs edge leaves distressed housewives at bay.


Poems find themselves easily written if locked inside an elevator.


I locked the old man in the closet, so he couldn't see the rainfall.


Run twenty cattle from now 'till midnight to hear just one of Earth's rumbles.

Very few men regret respect.
He let letters spell tense verses,
Perfect sentences expended stench.
Let be the rebel.
He never knew tender revenge.
He fed severed eyes every week.
He defended her when men,
Wrecked her.
The teeth felt cement,
The red, wet,
Perfect emergency mess.
The new men weep weekly,
When twenty peppered teeth,
Seep neck deep.
Her sweet self descends,
He deserves respect,
Never-the-less,
Endless weeks were spent.
Defy her energy,
Let hell center her.

The day began
As it always does
With children never jumping
Rope with talons at each end.

But the distant tree was
Found broken into branches,
Severed in the middle,
Ends melting to the ground.

And now ants awaken,
Thinking of lovers always lost,
Feet stuck, eyes up,
A once uncut core now ravaged.

Turn shift, spout.
Lightly touch--
To tremble. Open
Up, spiral downward.
Leave at noon to forget,
And frown. Don't smell,
Remember.
Run and glance and don't
Turn back--too dusty.

Later, return at noon,
To pick up and move over.
Sweep without weeps,
Don't cry or pity,
'Cause deadly is deadly.
Just turn, shift, and harden.

The cave man always remembers who his girls are.
He always drags them home, and
He always has room for plenty more.
He always leaves the boulder ajar and
Always tucks his girls in at night.
He always means what's right, yet
He always leaves from time to time
Always locking them out of sight.
He always cares, but never tries,
To keep his girls alive.