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some say we should keep personal remorse from the
poem,
stay abstract, and there is some reason in this,
but jezus;
twelve poems gone and I don't keep carbons and you have
my
paintings too, my best ones; its stifling:
are you trying to crush me out like the rest of them?
why didn't you take my money? they usually do
from the sleeping drunken pants sick in the corner.
next time take my left arm or a fifty
but not my poems:
I'm not Shakespeare
but sometime simply
there won't be any more, abstract or otherwise;
there'll always be mony and ****** and drunkards
down to the last bomb,
but as God said,
crossing his legs,
I see where I have made plenty of poets
but not so very much
poetry.
don't feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.

be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain

who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.

juggling mates
and
attitudes

their
confusion is
constant

and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.

beware of them:
one of their
key words is
"love."

and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God

for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.

don't feel sorry for me
because I am alone

for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.

I am a dog walking
backwards

I am a broken
banjo

I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio

I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.

put your sympathy
aside.
they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.
kaylene- mary Mar 2016
Far too long he has slept inside my head
He weeps for me as we lay in bed
I wanted no more than to die by his side
By all your commandments I have abide
But please do not ask of the price I've paid
For I must sleep in sheets you've made
But Lord, obsolve him of my sins
And I will throw his ashes to the wind
Help me accept the passing of his soul
He is the one who took upon much of this toll
For far too long my lover has been dead
For far too long I have slept with guilt inside my bed
the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.
kaylene- mary Feb 2016
I used to bring prescription pills
to parents day
because I didn't think anyone
could tell the difference

What'd you call Christmas
without heat
in a house without power?
2007

My father swore that he'd
teach me how to ride a bike but
instead he introduced me
to his new baby girl
And every time we drive
past the hospital
my mother remindes me how much it cost to save my life
that one year
She doesn't have
to say that she wished I'd left
instead of him
She spent twenty one years
tucking my brother into bed
but it took her nine just to touch me

And when I finally had the courage
to tell my mother I was too afraid
to eat - she told me it's a blessing
That she spent most of her twenties
regurgitating flesh into paper bags
and that's how she got daddy
to stay

I haven't seen him in close to three years
but he calls sometimes
and we talk about the weather
I still remember the day he said goodbye
He said he'd come back
and we'd clean up that old bike from the shed
*I still walk home
kaylene- mary Jan 2016
Fat* was the first word people used
to describe me when I was a kid
And that didn't bother me much
until I found out it was supposed to

By the time I was fifteen
I knew what it was like to be clinically
overweight, underweight and obese
It was the year of menthol cigarettes
and baggy clothes
Hunching naked over a scale shrine
Mixing ***** with vitamin water,
complimenting each others thigh gaps
The year breakfast tastes like giving up
and the only time you feel pretty
is when you're hungry*
Not obsessed with being empty
but afraid of being full
Replacing meals with more practical hobbies
like planting flowers or fainting

And ever since I started evaporating,
girls that never spoke to me,
stopped in the hallway
and had the audacity to ask how
And when I told them I was sick,
they told me I was an inspiration
How could I not be in love with my illness?
My eating disorder was the most
interesting thing about me

But how lucky I am now to be boring
To look at a sandwich
and see just a sandwich
Not half an hour of sit ups
or two spent hugging the toilet
This is the year I find more productive
things to do than googling the amount
of sugar on the back of a
lick and stick postage stamp
The year the calculator in my head finally stops
The year that I eat when I'm hungry
without punishing myself
And I know that sounds stupid
but that **** is hard
If you're not recovering, you're dying

When people asked me what I wanted to be
when I grew up,
I said *skinny
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