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david badgerow Nov 2011
do people poke people on Facebook often?
is that, like, a 'thing'?
what does that even mean?

what am i poking them with?
a truck
a stick
a taser
a ****
a flower
an eyefuck?

what does the poke feel like?
is it
zuckerberg has baffled me once again.
david badgerow Sep 2012
right now,
are filled with ashes
and appleseeds.
david badgerow Nov 2011
i was a simple grain of sand
on a beach
but i did not get caught up in your sandal.

i was a shining star in the sky
but i did not fall
and you did not wish upon me.

i was two hands outstretched
but you did not run to me
and i did not hold you tight.

i was a crumpled newspaper
wrapped up in a homeless man
but you did not find warmth in me
and you did not give me your extra change.

i was half a bottle of bourbon
that you've been staring at for days
and now you drink me in,
and now i'm in your mouth.

i was a pair of transplanted eyeballs,
if only you could see the way i do.
david badgerow Oct 2011
You are a sprawling backyard
and I am a toddler
and I just learned how to run

You are a four inch thick piece of plexiglass
and I am a wild animal trapped behind you.

You are a seventeenth century novel
and I am not making sense.
david badgerow Nov 2011
My blankets are so warm,
it's like being buried beneath a bear.
My mattress is a cocoon made of bread.
The world does not exist.
I am in a black hole.
and I am no longer suspended in time, space.
I am in the world.
I am of the world.
I emerge from beneath my bear.
My mattress crumbles beneath me.
I lumber toward the bathroom.
Time to ****.
david badgerow May 2012
today i'm feeling like a dead dog
on six day old
august pavement.
no lovers swarm around me
to remember their spontaneous moment.
only flies.
who among you will kiss
my fever-blistered lips?
my bloated stomach wretches
for the comfort of the
old green dumspter
i called my house,
so homesick am i.
i'm so sick of hope and
trust, and no sun has ever
shown me favor without
burning me first.
i'm wearing the best of
my saturday night special,
the old duck sauce t-shirt,
unraveled shorts, sandals.
i wear a culture-shocked heart
on my sleeve so everyone
can see i'm naive.
david badgerow Jul 2020
meanwhile it's my lunch hour --
the sun burns the cinderblocks pink
12:40 on a thursday with sawdust in my hair
and a piece of lead pinched between
forefinger and thumb fighting the
sudden onset feeling of vivid panic
i'm obliterated by the sense of being alone and
lost outside the plexus of purpose

my docile body is being stretched open
i am churning unsexed and weak
weeping on the steel edge of hysteria
half gouged and puttering beneath
this burden of butterflies in my chest
the girl is a great distance away but
maybe she'll notice my plumage rising
and receding like a brittle sail on a
dark green sea or hear
my cells test the very limits of elasticity
diverging terribly into flamboyant aqueducts
and humming on the wind like
the plow tractor trumpeting in a far-away field

she is a fawn lying on a summer picnic blanket
sprawled on the rolling meadow as if it were a beach
a genuine beauty in the white of the sun's light
wearing a pair of reflective sunglasses holding
her face puckered up expecting a kiss
and a delicate fire surges through me
my eyes are blinded by the green grass
radiant all around her
and my pulse thunders inside my ears
longing to be immersed with her in safety
ripped up by a lust to be accepted and free
and folded together softly against the hard world

i am being hollowed out into electric rivulets
by the painful consciousness of my isolation
by the broiling heatwave of july against
the longest winter of my life
my heart aches in my front shirt pocket
waiting on my phone to light up or ring
and so i fill my ***** glistening torso
with what i hope is a lethal dose
of papaya-coconut water
david badgerow Oct 2011
Listen, children
I'm calling by phone
to teach you
of a bourbon sunset;
a time when it's best
to sit alone
on a river's beach
and drink and try to forget.

Forget about the past,
the sorrow and the pain
drink them down fast
or they'll slowly drive
you insane.
Drink away the pleasure
douse out the memories
Tonight I drink for leisure
and to burn away my arteries.

Listen, children,
quick, to hear
the story of the whiskey sunset
will surely bring you to tears;
This knowledge, do not forget
will pay dividends in years,
the doctrine of the bourbon sunset.

Now my tears flood this river's bank
and a blind man could see
this bottle's drank
so when the time comes
it's me you'll thank
for teaching you of a bourbon sunset.

Listen, children, really
do not curse lie or steal
just drink away the fiction
all that remains becomes what is real
you will die stone
cold and all alone
no matter how much love or hate
your heart feels
david badgerow Oct 2014
this is a craigslist missed connection ad
because you were
beautiful and drunk
and i was
when you approached me
at the beer tent
said 'hi'
and something about my '...bare feet'
but all i heard was 'kiss me ******* the mouth'
we had so much chemistry,
neutrons and protons colliding
when our fingers touched as you
passed me your cigarette, exhaling
i watched as your hair began to stick
to a crest of sweat on your neck while
we chatted for forty seven minutes and
thirteen seconds, near as i can figure
never mentioning each other's names
or phone numbers but
if i ever see you smile again
i'll slip you my name like a prayer
pressed to your lips or a ring on your finger
even though you said you hate jewelry
your ears, so cute and small and not even pierced
solitary necklace adorning the angelic collarbone
now burrowed into your left breast
it's a cheap faux crystal trinket with a purple tint
that you got for $15 two years ago
but you love my earrings
saying you always had a thing for guys with tattoos
you're an environmental sciences major
and a wonderful butterfly
with eyes like an ocean
hair that just won't quit
and the most delicate navel
i've ever seen
you're perfect and
i might've dreamt
of your legs
for the last two nights
those devilish muscles that first
brought you close to me
then, quick as light,
stole you
david badgerow Jun 2015
zappa blows cartoon music
out of a cerulean blue kazoo
in my kitchen while i
eat greasy cold pizza
out of a crusty cardboard box
& marcus the kitten gnaws
on my sock ankle achilles
& it's in moments like this
that i'm a-ok with being alone
my **** could stay soft for the
rest of my life no problemo
i'm beautiful alone i tell myself
out loud & marcus stops chewing
acts like he understands me
but i know it's only
temporary this feeling of adequacy
& full-time fulfillment tomorrow
i'll wake up cold & lonely again
& pining for smooth thighs
& butterflies
& a girl whose best friend committed suicide
i post little things like this to my facebook all the time, usually saving more serious efforts for hellopoetry, but i liked this one enough to make it crossover.
david badgerow Dec 2011
i stand naked on my front lawn
watching the sun fall into the sea
i have a suitcase full of curse words
and a backpack full of bad ideas
there is a breeze that shakes the bearded tree
and grows chill bumps on my shaking flesh
"Rejoice," he says to me,
"for what is lost is reborn."

"I have kept your soul safe, my son,
hidden here in this walnut tree;
the Devil has only your body,
when you are free of him,
return to me."
david badgerow Jan 2012
i've got to get you out of the sun
because your smile is
making it's way towards my heart
it's wrapping around my head
and i feel dizzy

you are a sunflower,
i will stop to admire your beauty
on my traveler's journey

if i close my eyes
i am alone in a black hole
being eaten by elephants and eels

but when you smile,
oh god you smile
and it's so sweet,
even from so far away

i am burning in
intense white sunlight, but
your silhouette brings water
flowing between rocks and kingdoms
you bring hot shadows of x-ray light
in the twinkle of your eye

i am an ant pushing a cart wheel
in the streets of your mouth
i crawl over your hills, in between
your whirling mountains of grief

i dream of blue skies and freedom
i live in my mind, around paths of
earth and under blue rocks
i can swivel on my heels and
pluck out my eyeballs
throw them in the dirt
but i can feel the sunrise
with my hands

with my hands, i will feel
your undulating valley
and i will pinch
your empire
with a towel wrapped
around my head

my thirst
lives in my cheek
and my tongue

your dress
will dance and
fly in circles
and turn round and round
in my head until i die
in your arms for the night

sweet rest from far, far away.
david badgerow Oct 2011
I scribbled
stupid words onto
a wrinkled and *****
piece of scrap paper
and now you're reading it.

I crumpled it up
but then something
told me you'd want
to admire it from
your computer chair
So there
you sit
and here
it is.
david badgerow Oct 2011
i just tried to
adopt a metaphor
i was lonely and
i didn't have any
good ideas
it's rainy out and
i feel like lying down
when i got there
the page was blank
so I said
"I'll do it my **** self,"
and that's what this is.
david badgerow Dec 2014
when you asked me about certainty
and if my mind was a tree
rooted in cement and truth
i was on my unaccustomed knees
blinking into a sunbeam's architecture when
the brilliant wind brought you to me
to cure me with the miracle touch
i was alone by a window dreaming through glass
you bent toward me in a mile wide sky
a butterfly with a skinny voice
or an adorable tomato in a retail uniform
before that i only knew the clouds
as bears wrapped in pastel baby-blankets
before i first kissed you in the street
i knew the sunset as a drop of fire
in a barrel of whiskey and
suddenly your eyes like a deep pool in a forest
seeking out my past with the molecular traces
of your fingers across my abdomen
mandalas blooming out of our palms
only touching at the fingers
as flames from mosquito torches filled
the round coral faces of my gauges
with apricot light
david badgerow Oct 2011
last night in my dream
a girl wore a necklace
not a tourniquet
or blouse
or skirt,
just a necklace

i remember her well
she was a girl that i work with
i'd be with her now but
she hasn't told me i'm worth it

last night in my dream
a girl told the naked truth
her words were full of worth
of care
and legitimacy
and then we got down
and took
care of
                                                           ­     -gritty
david badgerow Oct 2011
I wish I held a microphone
every time I went to speak
each person would be forced to listen
and shut their ******* beak
This may sound harsh
it might offend your features
but I'm standing
knee-deep in a marsh
surrounded by brain-dead zombie creatures
These people are dull
ignorant or crazed
and deciding if they like gooseflesh
grilled stuffed or brazed
These words are a knife
and with them I will cut
a line on their throat,
a hole in their gut
there's only two ways
to get out of this rut
The other way I know
to make them scatter like rain
is to open this heart
and show them this pain
These words may be putrid
they may offset your senses
but ooze fills my shoes
my legs are cemented in fluid
and I'm reaching out for fences
praying to gods both demented and Druid
I wish I held a microphone
every time I went to speak
but my voice is worn out gravel
I'm stuck up ****'s creek
without a paddle.
david badgerow Feb 2012
while you were singing in the churchyard
i was sleeping in the ***** barn
beside a withered picture of an astronaut
and a long beard filled with street secrets

while you were burning up in sainthood
i was screaming into a melancholy leaf
wearing sweat on my miserable *****
and a liar's grin on my face

while you were murdering your wife
i was milking this dream for all the light
and i thanked god on bended knee
saying you're a turtle dove in an icebox

while you martyred yourself into the ocean
i carried you with me on my road to freedom
like an aligator stomped hard by a mockingbird
or a mermaid shot full of antibirth tablets
david badgerow Sep 2011
listen up all tube socks
draped lightly over stiff cots
rise to the knee
this is a call to arms.

cleanse yourself of nostril snot
store it in a safe spot
this is for a poor old sot
with whiskey-breath
whimpering forget-me-nots.

drop pure silver into jangling slots
while your veins rot
and your heart and brain begin to clot
ask your neighbor for a quick five-spot

spin the wheel again, sonny
this time, give it all you got
david badgerow Oct 2011
i ate a banana
Almost 7 days ago
and the peel is brown
and stiff
and it lounges beside my bed.
my life is a pile of ***** laundry
and all i can do is lounge in my underwear
and scratch my crotch
and armpits
i took a shower
Almost 7 days ago.
david badgerow Oct 2011
it's not the burning alive that's really that bad,
it's that it lasts forever
after a while you get used to the pain
if your heart and your mind work together

it's not the water in your lungs that's really that bad,
if your mind is already sick with fever
cool chlorinated water feels refreshing
and you eventually forget to reach for the drain lever

it's not the bloodletting that's really that bad,
I feel lighter on my feet already
a foggy film shades my eyes
for my final judgement I am dressed and ready.
david badgerow Jan 2012
every man for himself--am i a man or a self?
wearing long suspenders and
smoking my tonsils raw
a handful of questionable virtue
and inexpensive self confidence

i am no longer your folk hero,
but rather a jolly youth that hates degenerates
i'll fall out of my chair to keep
my ear to the ground
i must listen for change

yes, and between the mattress, shrieking
and the myterious column of faces
appears the fog in twilight, swallowing
***** tonk doors and vagabonds whole

i am a strange left handed moon man,
i'm high
i have that paralyzing lonesome feeling
i have nothing new to add, that feeling
i am an ambassador without *****,
almost pornographic
david badgerow Nov 2011
tyrants will fall
buildings will crumble
celebrities will shrivel
dinosaurs will die
industry will collapse
corporations will decay

and i'm just ******* glad to watch 'em burn
david badgerow Sep 2011
It ended in abrubt victory like a baby being born
But the doctors all looked sick to me, somehow this wasn't the norm

Actually I'm not in a hospital
Not witnessing the miracle of life
I just woke up
and am 48 years old with
the realization that someone's
******* my wife.

There you have it, my love
She sighs, shining white like
a dove discovered dead
On your grandmother's doorstep.
david badgerow Apr 2020
come find me in the lurch
with the dogs beneath the avenues
on barefeet and scars on my knees
arms extended in hypothesis into the
sultry sky, bridging the gulf
between god and myself

i am a prisoner who
spends restless nights staring into the void
my wounds, to all appearances healed-over
open themselves inwardly and leak freely
thru the cavernous expanse of my body
absentmindedly retracing my torment with
the callous pads of my fingers in the dark
dancing over my own flesh like a cold stranger
my lips twist into a grimace and my cheeks flash hot
and wet as a bolt of grief sinks itself down deep into me

i am alone here
lost in listlessness gasping
for breath on this tumbled mattress
alone as i've ever been
with the clang of the bars and
the muted squawk of the captain on the radio
when it rains i am alone with it
alone too out in the sun and grass
and concertina wire
alone with the impatience and courage
particular to the condemned
listening to remote nestlings
howl themselves hoarse in the treetops
searching for the motherbird come to
subdue and nourish them as i am hoarse
and i am searching

oh beautiful mother please find my
withered eaten heart discarded like
a cut flower and sanctify it

my heart breaks again and again
under the reiterated gusts of shame
my memory thrusts against me

come and find me
look down here
because some of us will not see
heaven when we die
instead of tasting the delicious picnics
in paradise accompanied by angelic
flute-and-lute bands we will be caked
in layers of fresh **** constantly
raw sewage on our raw skin with
hairy black cellar rats singing the blues
***** by wild beasts dragged by devils
thru the packed streets of hell consumed
by a hopeless desire to start a new life of
chastity but there will be no second chance
just the eternity we deserve
david badgerow Mar 2013
my mind is crazed
on cartoons and
my lungs absorb my own
existence in a cigarette.

i am perched on a roof
the green dusk sky stretched
out like a beach towel
above me.

thirty-four stories up
and i hold the moon in
a cradle.
david badgerow Nov 2011
bull kick donkey
i lick *****
david badgerow Nov 2011
i want to be
your paper shooting-target
i will absorb every bullet you spit at me
and i will drift back to you
as you press a button

i want to be
your ant eater
your vaccuum cleaner
your band leader
i want to be
your Derek Jeter

you are a mansion,
i am your humble groundskeeper
david badgerow Mar 2020
Cody -- hey buddy -- something
I want to ask you about;
Are her eyes still ice-emeralds
And her skin like a cloud?
Do you think Allison will
Sleep with me now?
Does she still have a soft-spot
For dreamers; down-and-outs?
Red-eyed poseurs, beautiful losers,
Fuckbois, dry-drunks, and fidgeting louts?
If so send her my way
Or tell her give me a shout
I'm ****** up, I'm so lonely
They just let me out.
david badgerow Aug 2020
the imbecile boy found love again
walking aimlessly & self-conscious
with the year's regrets falling
behind like fat blossoms in
a summer shower out of
my longing i had invented her
it was by happy accident or
a subtle shift of scenery
in the numinous grove that
i entered that spring with an empty heart
so i wrote her all these songs
so i could live again
cue the hallelujah choir singing
'this is ours, the impossible'

my rib-cage expands
every time i think of her
like recalling a beautiful dream at breakfast
through a yawning smile
my prophetic dove lying next to me in bed
the first flicker of reanimation
with the heat of her veins
interdependent with mine
stripped to the waist
with tresses of her hair across my chest
& shoulder i'll thrive in a forest of it

i launched 'i love yous'
from a sun-lit country porch
& they traveled 300 postcard miles
over roofs & the tops of old elms
to collapse into her ear, exhausted
now i am the pen, she is the paper

she is delicate but
my love has wild-cat claws
& live pink lips above smooth
wingless shoulders & i am hypnotized
by the adoration & light reflected in her eyes
i built this cathedral of words for her
these towers like puffs of smoke
& exultation rising in our slow dream
i carved this river through the broad valley
where the fish nibble at
dazzling afternoon raindrops
while i get lost in her body awhile
this kaleidoscope is a place i could stay

repossession & co-awareness
now we're strolling across the air
together in perpetual acceptance
gliding like the first morning orioles
through six panes of clear blue sky
over the circumambient hills of the new age
toward the alabaster sea
with her bright compassion pressed tight
against my side for the journey
we laugh softly as our hands engage
never again to disengage
david badgerow Jan 2012
have you ever
wanted to **** yourself
after writing something great?
or painting something
you'd never be able to explain?
david badgerow Mar 2012
here i stand
toes on the horizon
arms wrapped around the sun
upside down, swimming
on the moon
feet brushing the stars
and arms
racing the galaxy.
david badgerow Nov 2011
Let's play
I'll lay down,
******* to bits.
david badgerow Jan 2012
i have a headache. i have sore arms.
from drinking at 3 in the afternoon.
from holding you up on a pedastal for hours.
i dreamt about a salty girl
riding in a parade & confetti
made of dollars.
the golden rainbow is no bigger than my fist
and is blinding the dangling lovers.
next march the taste of flowers will
return to **** the garbage men,
they will be struck down by
flying swords of grass.
you will see the way the calvalry
becomes twisted up in drugs,
like a tornado singing a misty song.
it will let the dancer drift into orbit,
and i will watch as a pirate dies
of laryngitis.
david badgerow Nov 2011
i wanted to be black and blue
on a football field at midnight.
i wanted to wear varsity jackets
and give them away to beautiful women.

now i just want to be
a button on your blouse,
the fur lining of your coat.
now i just want to be kisses
and dreams
and a hot night spent
under clean white sheets
with you.
david badgerow Apr 2020
the city is dead
the heart in a tourniquet
i'm in the ivory tower
high above the dull roar
my mouth on a megaphone
but it's hard to explain
a subtle chemical change
we're all cinderella
as the midnight devours
so close your eyes
we'll wait it out
i didn't consent but
you woke me up for this
when i was dreaming deeply
and now everyone else is comatose
we're all alone now
standing behind closed doors
the silence has ravaged me
this raw wound is my home
david badgerow Nov 2015
"Forget her," he said

"Like waves forget the
sand on the beach when
tide goes out. Like dew
drops forget moonlight
when a sunbeam makes
them blush in the morning."

But I am not as forgetful as water.
I am a tree standing tall in an orchard
with snow around my ankles and my limbs
shivering in shirtsleeves but I won't for a minute
forget the springtime. Or the sunshine and how she
danced through it underneath me. I will always remember
that summer we spent in fields together laughing at
dragonflies lighting on nettles and catching the
warm breeze in our hair. She was a fully
shaken Polaroid. A postcard.
A Memoir.
david badgerow Nov 2015
"Forgive him," he said

"Like the ocean forgives
the big rocks that break
it against the shoreline. Like
rain forgives sunlight for
burning it away in
the afternoon. "

But she is not as forgiving as water. She is a
woodpecker carving out a surgery niche in the
wide trunk of a tall tree standing in an orchard. They
spent the previous springtime at each other's throats. In
her mind he chased her through that sunlit summer field and
her ankles were scarred by the nettles and dragonflies weren't funny
at all. Pulling twigs from her tangled hair she will never let him forget that
he did not prepare a place for her in his heart. She is as relentless
as the blizzard wind against his bare limbs. He was an
over-exposed portrait. A wet sculpture.
A collage.
david badgerow Nov 2011
I had died
my friends had me buried
nine feet underground
in Australia
and they drank to my memory under the Sun.

Nigel was a hired hand
he dug my grave carefully
he talks with an accent and a cigarette
he toils under the Sun for three long days
silver tools chinking away at the hard desert rock.

I took a long ride on the Flying Spoon
up and around the lover's moon
and finally I've come to rest
in this spot under the Sun
nine feet underground
in Australia.
david badgerow Nov 2011
Back in nineteen
eighty-five when we
had a turkey for president
and all that jive
Back then
I had a blue duece coupe
and a flat in Brooklyn
I was a low-life **** daddy
and you were a classy ****** then
Back when
you had a **** little bobbed haircut
and a social addiction to black tar ******
a best friend named China White
and a body that was outta sight
Back when
you introduced me
to your sister
and she crushed me
from the start
and I ****** her on our wedding day
and it broke your little heart.
david badgerow Sep 2012
i am in an intelligent concrete room
while familiar silhouettes switch direction in the balmy wind
there is a dim stone portal spending a light
so still and small and dissolving into the sunless wall
under the scattered ruin of the sacred world
its gaunt mind studies beneath hieroglyphs
and into oblivion

it is later in the night and i am riding on an unsettling
crucifix doused in drugs and hammocks and the
blind face of eternity is wearing a headdress
filled with plumes of indecipherable intellect
and she has transcended my ego
with holy dreams
david badgerow Nov 2011
In a dream I was a battleship
and you were France's foreign shore
I was a mustachioed American soldier
and you were a 25 dollar French *****
Either way
I crashed into you
I was stranded
I slept on your beach for days
Starving & thirsty
But you fed me in other ways.
You sank my last desperate battleship
And as I drifted into water
as deep and as blue as your eyes
I couldn't help but to miss
The comfort and warmth of your thighs.
david badgerow Oct 2011
Good God
theres this girl
& she's all I can think of,
without her it's madness
that I'm on the brink of
She robs me
at night
because she's all
I can dream of.
She's just
like sunlight,
but thin
like a beam of.
I want to be
her star player,
or at least on
the same team of.
If she offered
me her heart
I'd take only
one small part,
like if she was a house
that I could be just
the kitchen sink of,
or if she were a
great and glorious mountain,
I could wade into the
lowest valley stream of.
david badgerow Jan 2012
my life is beautiful, not realistic.
yesterday, i arrived on neptune
wearing big boots and dignity
the horizon was a nightmare of question marks
and gloomy witches;
i escaped from the religious enema and
pegged a choir boy on my way out.
i am no longer a pygmy goat on a foolish leash,
i take my paranoia seriously.
my journals guide me to a ruptured corpse,
never censored.
i have the ability to be given away on a whim,
but i am becoming a famous soldier, an intoxicating
ghost of dogma.
my dreams are beautiful, not realistic.
hallelujah, the hobos are wearing bathrobes,
the ****** pillheads are anointed with ****** and sewer cleaners.
i see a goblin grave advertised by
luscious lips and fishlike shoulders.
the texture of my dream is kaleidoscope and silver,
haunted by a fat sherriff who cuts the throat of the jukebox queen.
i have a personal god, and on her i bestow this passionate kiss,
i have a favorite enemy, with no goals and without ambition.
im sorry, i don't know any happy songs,
only the movement of her young sensitive thighs and
a nymph with an hourly rate.
i am a buffoon with a blugeoned harmonica and
weapons of sugar.
my life is beautiful, not realistic.
david badgerow Feb 2016
lately i've been having these good days
i don't have sad wet cigarette saxophone nights anymore
i watched the sun wake up six times last week
i found a blue bucket of tulips &
gave them to a bald-headed krishna girl when
she sang to me on the sidewalk

i hired a boy to hide in the foyer
& peel a fiddle if i rouse from sleep during the night
or whistle through a harmonica
if i'm wet-eyed during breakfast
i finally got rid of all the pictures you stuck
to your side of the dusty bathroom mirror
except the blissed-out polaroid of us
perched on an old oak tree limb
like a couple of soft doves versus the turreted sunset

i deleted your number because you don't call me back anyway
i stopped mailing letters to your father's house
i haven't listened to the Plantasia record
you bought me since you left
i never feel the gray heat from your
staticky hand warming my shoulder
i forgave you for the blood in my kidneys
& old smog in my mildewed vinyl lungs

i sleep under the running green vapor light
of the moon & stars instead of the frothiest pillows
rippling on an ocean of sheets & project quilts
i finally scoured the lipstick stain from my collarbone
after what seemed like two years
i forgot how your armpits smelled
i sewed all your sundresses into a shower curtain
& i never see your delicate ribcage
peaking through the streams of hot water

i hardly ever notice the noose
you left hanging in our apartment
david badgerow Oct 2011
I'll be your raindrop
if you'll be my window pane
I'll be your wet blouse
if you're caught in the rain

Be my asylum and
I'll be your criminally insane
I'll be your stock options
if you'll be my net gain

If you were my trap
I'd cordially be your reeking dead mouse
I could be your wrap-a-round porch
if you'd be my creeking old house

I'll be your idiot
if you'll be my quick thinker
You can be my Bud Lite,
I'll be your binge drinker

I'll be your loser
you can be my laughing hyena
You can be my cougar
and I'll gladly be your half-dead zebra

Be my ****** predator
I will be your self-defense class
I'll be your censorship and
you can just be your own **** ***
david badgerow Dec 2011
the answer
is not
opposed to principle
it is not
against wars or
it will just
go together with
and it can
be influenced by
and the heart.
there is no difference between fact and fiction.
all writing is fiction.
and that is the worst betrayal of
the truth.
david badgerow Nov 2015
today is a day in autumn poised somewhere
on the toasted bread color spectrum
except wetter and chewier this morning
the gold light found me solemnly dancing
in the mud among the cypress knees
digging down to the bone to pass
this skin deep writer's block

the sun seemed huge and flat
when it sailed over the evergreen hill
misty on the beak of a warrior owl
but like me it's burning on the inside
tingling the tip of my spine causing
the blood in my arms and legs to buzz
beneath the unshockable woodpecker
with his tremendous hammer where
the monarch butterfly holds court

my skin becomes streaked with brown
as my bare feet slap the water face sending
slow elongated ripples through the swamp river
when the sun begins to spray tie dye off my shoulders
i'm haloed like a young madonna among the
jabbering leaves and whinnying branches

last night there was no howl at the moon cliche
as i let the hungry rain eat me i burped out
a victorious purple bird-sized butterfly
fighting in a gossamer heap from my tum
for my own confused psychoactive salvation

i'm still splashing and swooping
by the adenoidal afternoon
as the wild fox whimpers on the hill
the angelic chorus kicks in when
an ethereal forest nymph emerges
with her hair washed fresh
by the crisp autumn rain
out of the long trumpet gun barrel
of an orchid and dips her silken tongue into
the blue gray puddle of dew collected
in my bare navel

her skinny fingers flit between
the woven strings of an autoharp and
my arms fall limp like the branches of a wind
bent pine toward the fuzzy backs of centipedes
my chest glistens with perspiration
and my lips begin to quiver nostrils aroused
by the organic mating smells in the
daisy and dandelion clusters i
absorb through my open pores
like clear clean shining light
honing priming myself
into a glorious monumental
semi ***** pustule
david badgerow Jun 2020
and so there she stands
your daughter liberty
alone and weak
because you left her unattended
in a sundress and fireman's coat with blood
on her chin and her face contorted
for the cameras to see
stupefied on the edge of the gravel pit
with the confetti ash swirling in her hair
and her eyes filled with animal fear
as her slack body slams against the railing
and a swan song swells in her throat

they use billy clubs to beat back the rats
under the skull of the moon and
the fickle stars like frantic pouncing eagles
the neighborhood dying has scratch marks all over it
diamonds etched in storefront windows
and rollicking clouds of tear gas to make it fun
there's a ****** taking a **** out in the open street
and where's the flag? oh i remember
it's snagged on a parapet five stories up
burning in the ignored sunset between
the silent buildings

we are an enormous pile of sentient garbage
coming up from the rot wearing life preservers
advancing with the picket line tide
blowing flashbang death on flugelhorns
outside the framework of the 2-party system
invented by the mongrels in hollywood
guerrillas moving in troupes thru the city streets
filled with exhilarating hope and
plumes of smoke insurgents chanting
violence is american as apple pie

i keep my tv dark to reflect the flames
of the grocery store outside and my insides
feel ripped up, i've never had a shave this close
squish my denim body against the window like a telescope
to hear the growl from the depths under the city
this is the moment just before something big happens

this is the flashover
this is when the panic begins
there's a man in a tree out in palmdale and
i need the morphine to tell me it isn't my fault
i need my pastor to tell me god doesn't lie
tonight the fuses blew out on an entire continent
tonight i wept
david badgerow Aug 2015
sometimes on rainy days we stayed in
chugged cheap red wine out of a bag
that stained our teeth
& i made you listen to
old jazz saxophone records or
you forced me to dance with you
to really awful dubstep tracks
you used to like to poke my skinny ribs
laugh & say i danced like an alien as you
pulled me with your small hands
to read my palm by the window where
the sky water trickled down the glass
spilling over from the gutter
& when it comes to your natural perfume
that damp fragrance of sagebrush cloaked in dew
i'm still a recovering addict
& sometimes i relapse
baby i'm asking to relapse

i haven't seen you since the garden on my 21st
with the thick sound of crickets squealing in the trees
& big dogs barking way off in
someone's backyard across the river
that starry september night you read my cards sitting
on the dusty trunk of my car while your best friend
rolled slick blunts in the backseat but i was drunk
& ***** we got distracted i bent you over
weaponizing the leverage of my body to
put your face near the pretty sunflower bed
with a tall can of bud still in your hand
& the muscles of your thighs glowing by moonlight
outside that almost abandoned house we found
with my birthday party blooming by a bonfire not far away

now i'm wondering
since i've got another birthday coming up
& a little more meat on my bones
if you'd be willing to try it again
because i'm working hard to change my future
by itching at the old scars left on my shoulders
until they open & bleed again
only i won't drink so much this time around
& you can try to not smoke ****
i'll let you steal & wreck my car again &
i'll stop chewing my fingernails or
you can still practice your happy ending massage
techniques on me when i'm stretched out & tired
i'll re-twist your sloppy dreads
with careful fingers
like tiny insects crawling over your scalp
because i never wanted to touch them before
& you can maybe try to not
flip-flop **** my best friend
as much or at all
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