Some days i sit at this cushy chair, ******* my ***, bored, eyes glued to the glare of questionable information and quiet chuckles. Don’t know where to go from here-Refresh. Click. Click. ****. Back. Perhaps smoke more, or read less, give some madness to this rhyme. Or, is that how the saying goes? Sorry, got lost staring at my cat on a rug. It’s a neat rug. The black circles on a brown and grey background. It’s almost enchanting. I, like my feline friends, am fixated by this sublime texture. Oh yea, about the boredom…

Lights, boredom, beer, and socks

this is how we define the outcome

of pin up girl robots

and the threshold you’re too dumb to notice

its refuse they say

like some salt tower ready to pop marmalade

No one pees the bed anymore

and why should they?

questions for an irritable spine flu

Never the less, we are doomed to listen to ****** rap music

while washing the four hundred and fifty-seventh **** sponge

on the planet Umlow

I think i may have lied

who cares, you already read it

so taking it back would only make me a badger

No

a tapir

Everybody’s going nowhere and I am far gone
I can’t even see the ocean the motion was all wrong
Just a sea of broken bottles and cigarette models
On the floor, so high I had to clean the sky
Never been an existentialist, cynic, or a pessimist
Just another body on the edge of metamorphosis
Clinging to a rope I hope will not snap
Like my neck if I hit the ground, oh crap!
I’m apocalyptic fresh and I can’t say why
If I do it’s a lie, see the needle in my eye?
Meditation, preparation, or a conscious legislation
Couldn't help the fact my words are often littered with abrasions
As if shock rock poetry could save me from my death
It could possibly enlighten but I wouldn't hold my breath
Now I’m frightened by the notion of a new world order
But anarchy is hip if you’re on this side of the border
I digress, what a mess if you know what I mean
But I've burned out quicker than gasoline…

The dust has been lifted
Wise words from the man in the red truck
As he eluded provocative ants dancing ‘round cigarette ash
Pokemon never behaved like jackals
Or any other eighties hair metal bands for that matter
At least Pantera shredded their way out of that shtick
It allowed me to quench my thirst with neon Gatorade
And stomaching peninsulas
This is why starch as a way to mend secular viral videos
Was never a serious consideration
That right belongs to the intergalactic Prince Albert
Of the Ziggy Stardust federation
It’s what made me feel secure with crack and root beer
Can I get a signal out here,
Or did the waffle train miss me by a nano robot?
God save this illustrious choir of cephalopods and naval lint
Before they find their way into the haphazard way
I chop chicken under drunken stars
A wizard once led me to this concussion
But I cannot remember the first door he smashed with a crowbar
I know it had only been six years since Julia Roberts was in Erin Brockovich
The movie about the alien cyborg, who birthed Africanized
Native American bumble bees
Or was that merely a fan fiction continuation?
That’s when the itch in my head stopped….

She wore a glittering gown
Beneath cold grey sky
He wore a brown rotting raincoat
Under April sunshine
She, smelling of coconut and tulips
Chugged bourbon straight
He smelled like wet cement and smoke
And sipped wine from a juice box
They met on a rust smothered playground
She, for a funeral- he, on holiday
They danced in circles for hours and hours
He hummed Vivaldi
She hummed slayer
Both were of literary greatness
He-Fox in Socks
Her-The Inferno
Neither knew love to be equal parts
Beautiful
And grotesque

Sitting in the basement writing to the devil                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                burning a candle, record playing black metal                                                                                                               thought about anarchy, all the blood I’ve ever seen                                                                                                                                 or maybe the apocalypse waiting at my door
I’m so bored                                                                                                                                                                                                  maybe burn a bible, maybe drink a little more
Sitting  on the staircase staring at the ceiling                                                                                                                                                           trying out this notion that I’ve never had a feeling                                                                                                                                                                         thought about holding a little sacrifice                                                                                                                                                                                     but I need to find a ****** and that’s too much of a chore
I’m so bored                                                                                                                                                                              maybe burn a church, maybe drink a little more
Now I have to use the bathroom but it’s upstairs                                                                                                                                                                         the thought alone is morbid and I just don’t ******* care                                                                                                                                           just sit here in the blackness feeling like a goat’s head                                                                                                                                                           writing to the devil but my wrist is getting sore
I’m so bored                                                                                                                                                                                                                             maybe ***** blood if I drink a little more

The abomination that is the human mind

twists and turns, spews and shouts

as worms in filth

or words on paper

crawling and consuming

evolving and discharging

imbibing knowledge and purging perception

letters illustrate products of chemical reactions

neurotransmitters conspire with memory and ideology

excreting dopamine and epinephrine by the milliliters

no one can read what is safe

no one is safe from what they read

poetry is a bowel movement of the mind….

Drip down a drain
down

down

down

through the pipes
away                    away                               ­                                     away


like you were never there...

Do you wanna be friends with me
  do you wanna be friends
  with a punk like me
My iron cross tattoo and a
  middle school concept of
    anarchy
  we can
  go to shows and smoke Newports
  bring down the establishment with
    empty cans of PBR and spraypaint

So you wanna be friends with me
  So you wanna be friends
  With a wretch like me
My dog eared copy of Slaughterhouse-5
And my irrational distaste for
   Humanity
We can
Smoke *** in your backyard and
Scream about ****** babies
   While burning bible pages
As if we were making a statement about the inherent theocracy plaguing
Our government

Do you wanna be friends with me
Do you wanna be ****** like me

She hides in pockets of flesh in my gums
I can taste her in the morning when I spit
at night I can feel her swimming in an ocean of mouthwash
In sleep she oozes onto my pillow
moistening the dusty fabric under my cheek
When shes really playful
she will wiggle herself into my cerebellum
and dance furiously with my dreams
or gently sing lullabies when my heart wont let me sleep
when the world and its filth have commandeered my hope
she is there to brush away the dirt with untarnished hands
she is my religion she is my ******
without her I am sick
a smoldering heat of black matter and fungi
she is antibacterial soap on my soul
Lysol wipes to my tarred lungs
with one whiff I am cleansed of debris
she saturates the oxygen in my blood
she resides in my abdomen
I can feel her in my kidneys.

Imagination Piranhas

I walk down the street trying to analyze what I see
Two trees in the shadow connected by a power line
A duplex, abandoned, dark and silent
Simple objects that line my path and hold some story
Some deeper truth ready to be unraveled
I try to decipher this meaning
To look passed the tangible exterior
Beyond the cells and through the atoms
For some soul or sentence
Some lost ghost ready to tell a tale
But I can’t
The story is muffled and the meaning is lost
Through the trees, beyond the worn down duplex
I see only more darkness
My senses have been dulled
Overshadowed by a vermin
A sinister parasite consuming the world around me
The imagination piranhas
Callous and cold creatures
They linger in the darkness and drift through the air
Like a cancer they grow, feeding upon the beauty of the world
Made of mortar and brick that house our civilization
They dwell in the steel and noxious fumes of industrial growth
Polluting ears with their diesel engine roar
Corrupting the space between nature and thought
The imagination piranhas
Dominating the atmosphere
Hindering analysis of the universe
With bright lights that blind the story in the darkness
Their shouts and electronic noise drown out the true song
A quiet song
The imagination piranhas…

Let the rain fall
Down from the clouds
As do angels in sin
Or tears from their eyes
Allow the moisture to soak into
The porous concrete
Darkening its grey surface
A treat for the worms and snails who
Wiggle out from their soil underworld
The moon is bright
The air fresh
Cool and tingling
Like the vibrations down my spine
And sweet as the grapes
That fends off hunger
And thirst
As the rain falls
For the earth…

Morning moon
Black holes and a rainbow
Too ****** to sleep
And that’s because **** it, I say so
You see, I am a vampire
Not one of the Hollywood breed
No fangs or a blood thirst
‘tis on the night that I feed
My pen and I do this dance
Across the floor of this page
With our mistress emotion
Sorrow, bliss, fear, or rage
To sounds of fire and pencils
Crystals cracked on your head
Worn out, head down
Into dark depths I am led
By you
Morning moon…

I am numb
Numb am i
Numb we are all
Numb nuns
Numb nuts
**** nuts
*******
****
****
****
**** my ****
**** my ****
Until it is numb
Crumbs
****
Drum
Hum
Numb
Stuck in gum
Or ***
Or drool, ****, wine and glue
Like me stuck to you
*******
**** me
I’ll watch
And use both hands
To tell the time
A crime
Committed
Omitted from books
Like cooks and crooks
****
Numb
I am numb
None
Nom nom nom
Numb
Succumb to my ***
On a street corner
Begging for change
It can’t stay the same
Someone might notice
Notice Otis?
They’re *******
**** *******
They must be numb
We’re all numb
Numb nuns
With guns
And **** puns
To **** tons
Ones and sons
Under one sun
A numb sun
Like god
God is numb
Dumb founded and *** pounded
Until it is numb
No feeling
No ceiling
Just sky
High
****, smack, *****, and ***
Up my nose
**** my nose
With a hose
Like one ***** hoes
No one knows
They’re all dumb
Numb…

Boy is born
Boy is made of silk gentle to the world
never crossing lines prepubescent pearl

Boy grows into man
Man is made of steel callous iron ore
huffing cans of power behind a wall of war

Man grows old
Old is made of scars topography of time
shedding timeless wisdom in arthritic pantomime

Old succumbs to death
Death is made of nothing heaven, hell nor rot
just floats their like an atom or something you forgot......

I wear my paper hat sing these silly songs

but she doesn't want to laugh anymore

whistle like a fool tell another joke

but she just doesn't want to laugh anymore

there was a time when I was the king of making her smile

she would wiggle and giggle for hours on end

now i would be lucky if I were more amusing than spoiled cauliflower

and she just doesn't want to laugh anymore

I pretend to be a stripper and shake my little ***

but she just doesn't want to laugh anymore

scribble silly pictures and make fun of the unruly cat

but she just doesn't want to laugh anymore

no longer funny I have the comedic status of paint

all her friends make her laugh the media makes her laugh

but I, I am damp socks

and she doesn't laugh anymore........

Write to her that little snail
    in letters slow and sleek
an icky twist of words and wit
   will keep you for a week

High as a kite

not stuck in a tree

   not on the floor

     in space probably

       vibrating

          with green cows

             an yarn

                giggling paradise of stars

                   swoon

                     cats falling out of cabinets

                        but i digress

                            die gressssss

                              die grassssss

                                 this is getting a bit weird

                                     my blood vessels are riddled with glitter

                                        don’t tell the rabbi…

                                             happy 420

Poetry is art
it is beautiful
grabs the ***** with words
and refuses
to let go
from the moment the stanza
reaches your brain
you're hooked
like the first beer
the first line of *******
it takes the wheel
and drives you
to insanity

The wolves are hungry again
I can hear them howling outside my window as I sleep
The blades of the ceiling fan hum and the cat by my feet purrs
Still their hungry moans prevail
Crying their grievances to the midnight moon
Sniffing and clawing at the ground
Anxiously awaiting their meal
I try and shut my ears in ignorance but they can sense this
So they howl louder
Like a choir of demons come from hell to collect the ******
Their haunting chant envelops the humid air
I can picture their vicious snouts snarling
Exposed fangs oozing drool as the thirst for meat grows
A pounding at my front door begins
They’re trying to get inside
Moments pass and I cannot breath
Only the taste of sweat on my lips reminds me I’m still awake
I hear a crash
The sound of splintered wood and twisting metal fills the house for a brief second
They’ve made through the door
My cat snaps from his sleep and dives under the dresser
They waste no time
I can already hear them strutting up the stairs
Paws causing a slight creak as they press to each step
My throat has contracted and sweat pours by the gallons down my forehead
The creaking stops
They’ve reached the top of the stairs
For a moment there is no sound but the humming fan
This is a moment suspended in limbo for an eternity
No thought, no breath, no fear
Just the hum of a fan
And then the sound of sniffing behind my bedroom door
I reach under my bed and grab a switch blade
Its false protection
It may take down one but they’ll all gang up on me
They’ll rip me and my cat to bits as the knife just falls to the floor
We won’t have a chance
They’re pounding at my door now
Not much longer
I can already feel their teeth sinking into my flesh
Blood spurting everywhere and staining their faces black and red
My cat screaming in agony
Both of us helpless
Another crash of splintered wood
They’ve made it through
There are four of them
Each faces huffing and smeared with slobber and wood chips
Eight yellow eyes staring back at me full of contempt and hunger
I clutch my knife prepared to die fighting
The alpha of the pack growls and crouches to leap
I hear my cat rustle from under the dresser
“NO!” I scream “save yourself!”
He darts out and stands on his hind legs
He’s holding a large pistol in his paws
He shouts “Die ******* wolves!”
Then begins firing
After a few seconds of loud blasts of gunfire all four of the wolves lie dead in a pool of blood
My cat drops the gun and jumps right back to his spot by my feet and falls asleep
He expects me to clean this up…

Then again there were three
                     listening in
through a        small hole in the wall
you forgot to patch
    now words flow through              like songs from a radio
                rumors heard
secrets
           spilled   into unwanted ears
tales of misdeed
    leaking      then again
who cares?

I swear the machine is the culprit
It explains the sore bones and sleepless nights
from the moment your fist meets the black button
before the ink of time has dried
it grips you in caste iron clamps
inserts its ******* tube into your spine
and drains your humanity
gorging on it like famished swine

Through an ocean of searing hot oil
and pummeled flour
it laughs at you
a sordid laugh stinking of raw meat
amplified by static voices over an intercom
each beep penetrating with the force of a power drill
please hold for a moment
I've seemed to have spilled my brain onto this greasy floor
let me scoop it onto some rice for you
there,
an original chop.

I wanna Play this trumpet

louder than you

quicker thank monkeys

flinging their poo

daylight, nighttime

anywhere at all

****** up **** ups drop and crawl

for me

to blow my horn

like you blow ****

brass, ***, grass

and **** that’s sick

drunk off beer

and question marks

evil smirks

in trailer parks

cigarettes

and jacking off

hitting bongs

until I cough

choke

i spoke

too quick

again,

***, brass, and **** that’s sick

The woman in the solar system

she makes me bright and warm

I dance in auras and nebulas

and **** oblivion

I said the woman in the solar system

has got me by the mind

jet black and purple plasma

on my tongue, can’t get enough

(see how she waves)

I vibrate through her own dimension

an intergalactic *******

I hold my breath

transcendental death

through time, space, and her ******

the woman in the solar system

made of ether and hydrogen

sings a universal

distorted sound

dancing cosmic energy

exactly what she is to me

through space and eternity…

The world is the word as the bird that flies
Is the bird that dies
Or the man that lies
When words get burned and his sentence turned
By which he learned
There is no I
But I is us and we are you
And you are just another U
Like underling and uninformed
But usurp and you will be scorned
So word it in a quiet voice
If words should be your only choice

We dream dreamy dreams under warm blankets and quiet stars

no noise no clamor to fill the atmosphere. The song of a thousand

silences vibrate in unison with breathing. Each exhale a new movement

through the universe. In and out, drift solemnly, like the ghost on a row

boat wading through fog and sorrow. A heart hollow to the tune of love

and jubilation. Only haze, vague and out of focus. The fuzz of an old

photograph bearing faces long forgotten. Gone, with the seconds,

minutes, and centuries that have been and never will be again. The one

we all share. Soon after closing our eyes to reality. Long after the sun

has faded from view, long before it  should return once more, leaving the

moon as the sky’s only companion.  When our heartbeats have slowed,  

relaxed, a breath before fatal. That’s  when it begins. The portal to the

other end of our mind. The room of warped mirrors. Reflections of our

ideas and experiences. twisted manifestations of thought and memory

for us to analyze through cryptic imagery and distorted stimuli. Here is

where we encounter all we admire and all we disdain, mashed into one

contorted vortex of sight and emotion. This is the dream…

I tell you all
I lost my soul one morning in October
still i can feel it trembling
with the mucous in my throat
the liquor coating of an empty stomach
denying re-entry
an expatriate exiled to the outer realms
the cells spoke to me in my elusive haze

what atrocities you brought with you the night before
volatile liquids
and billows of chyme decaying smoke
it was you who erased that patch of flesh from your cheek
the sidewalk merely a catalyst
a surrogate mother to your infantile stupidity
fathered by a not so impotent bicycle
what became was a dance with gravity
and you tried to take the lead
but that possessive ***** refused to give it up
and in a drunken stupor
thrashed you about
leaving you to the jagged teeth of concrete
costing you some epidermal friends
those whose sole duty it is to protect us
and your foolishness allowed their dismantling
so now we allow yours

so they did
with one swoop of my head
my body purged my soul into the poisonous sunlight
my brain a series of bombastic drum solos
i died there in my bed
soulless and aching
a drink in my hand....