go home to your big house
sleep in your big bed
next to your big wife
and wait for the big sun to rise.

then get in your big pickup truck
and use your big bumper to
plow through big traffic jams;

sittin’ up tall, lookin’ intimidating,
feelin’ indestructible and wavin’
your big American flag proudly.

then park just outside the big yellow lines
taking up two parking spaces and return
to your big job
at your big desk
with your big title
making your big executive decisions
as those petty words come frothing
from your big mouth.

then sit at your big table,
up in your big high chair
with your big fork and big knife
and feast upon your big dinner
of other people’s shortcomings,

afterwards, place your big belly
upon your wife’s big ***
and put your big boy member
into her big gaping hole
towards the heavens
stroking your big ego
up and down
back and forth
in and out

feeling bigger than the sky
looking bigger than the ocean
sounding bigger than the sirens of hell

broadening that big imagination
inside your big deluded brain;

you’ve defeated the champions of perfection
you’ve dethroned the delusional king
you’ve won against no competition

the greeting cards,
the love letters,
the blessings,
the yes sir’s,
the no sir’s,
the thank you sir’s
were all said to warm your tiny heart
but said
without meaning
from the big heart of another.

You are well-acquainted with the sight of
Columns of apartments like pillboxes,
Naked as ****** once they’ve been
Emptied out with a heavy hand.
Your touch brings with it separation-
A million cells deriding me between our skin.

My resentment is misdirected as the traffic tonight, and
The world made my helpless victim for
Allowing me love, even letting me leave
Too many red-stained kisses on your
Clean headboard, turned jaundiced by the evening.
Your scent rises like a note in the sanctity
Of my ***** laundry.

half of you remember cd’s
and half of you don’t
either way,
here it goes;

back then, I was living under rules so strict
it was almost impossible for someone to live.

no matter how much I tried to hide
or stay out of the way,
and no matter how much I tried to help out
and do my part;

I could never meet their standards.

what was good was never acknowledged
and what was bad was over-exaggerated.

basic existence was a crime
and the consequence was
always a long and
drawn-out
lecture

and as unsettling as
the home life was
I had my car,
the outside world,
and the hunger for
mischievous adventure.

and so, staying at home
was the last of my options
as I ventured out with no plan in mind
and a whole lot of time on my hands.

now, someone could easily get bored
with this formula;
I mean, you only could go out
to eat three times a day,
you could only visit friends
when they were around
and going shopping
was only a temporary fix
if you had money to burn
but this formula could also
be very interesting
if you’re creative enough
and you had
the knack,
the niche,
the crave
for something.

and so, I found myself traveling
to A LOT of local record stores.
I didn’t care how far away they were,
as long as it was reasonable within
the vicinity, if I knew about it,
I was there: Kiss The Sky,
Rediscovered Records,
Record Breakers,
etc., etc., etc.

I was always on the hunt for something obscure,
something no one else had and to me, it was like
gem or a hidden treasure I had unearthed upon the world.

my fixation for music was growing
as mammoth as the variety in my
cd collection.

music was becoming the sole foundation
to the underpinnings of my necessity:
it’s what kept me alive, out of trouble,
it was there when friends were not,
it fulfilled those empty spaces
it quenched my thirst for
wanting something more out of life.

I spent most of time, driving around, popping in one cd,
listening to each note, each lyric from beginning to end
before switching it out for another.

Lee Ving, Richard Hell, Darby Crash, Henry Rollins
all spoke out to me more with one verse
than all those lectures I had endured
from my patriarchs.

my cd book had become quite impressive
to my other bevy of like-minded friends.

and then it was stolen.

which crushed me.
but what’s done was done and
I had to move on, rebuild

and at seventeen dollars a pop,
my bank account was diminishing quite rapidly
as I tried to gain back what was rightfully mine.

I dreamt about becoming a thief
or a drug dealer to support my
addiction to music.

but not long after,
I had built a body of music
more vigorous with stout
than its previous
ancestor.

of course, there were a few gems
I still haven’t recovered
to this day from that incident
but thats beside the point.

the point is,
my folks may have incarcerated
my soul with diction and delivery
while they hid for themselves
in the oratory of delusion,

but
music was always there;
it was alive
it ran through me
it tickled my spirit
it shook my emotions
it boosted my endorphins
it got me pumped, it got me ready
for whatever life was gonna throw at me,
to face the cliche and to face repercussions,
I knew it was going to be ok as long as there was music
to fiddle with my nerves and provide comfort within my heart.

You told me you'd never
flirted with a guy
I laughed
I told you my tricks

You smiled and I froze
because I suppose
I figured you'd realise
I've used them all on you

before the child is married
parent knows best

after they get married
spouse knows better.

I'm done repressing my gayness
Because it's the "Christian" thing to do.
I will wear ******* rainbow ****** pasties
And march in a pride parade
If I please
And then go to church and praise Jesus
And God and the Holy Spirit
For making the way I am
And how I am
Because he made me perfect.
I am gay
I am Christian
I am proud to be both.

alright, alright, the records sound good
and the mulled wine tastes great.

everything here is tidied up;
swept, mopped, vacuumed, wiped down
to an immaculate degree

it matters very little though
when your utterly alone
on Christmas Day
in a clean house
without anybody
to ***** it up
again.

all I have are these thoughts,
these tiny flashes,
you appear,
then disappear,
then reappear
once more.

I can only imagine you bringing us a drink
while we laugh at the same movie
we’ve seen for the 400th time
and the kids are playing at our feet
with their new toys and board games
and eating oranges or chocolates
or walnuts on a white cozy afternoon

but looking around now
while dipping into the 5th scoop
of wine from out of the ***,
there appears to be
nobody here.

I add cranberries, an orange slice and a cinnamon stick
as I switch the record to Leatherface or Joy Division
or The Shocking Blue or Black Sabbath or
the collected works of Richard Strauss
but it doesn’t help my melancholia,
only suppresses it
for a while

and as the dog stares wide-eyed
and the cat leaps out wildly
and the gloomy clouds roll by
and the poem writes its obituary
to a silent response,

the music grips my heart
and squeezes it like the
blood of an
orange

and I am
utterly alone
without
you.

I was thinking that If we create an all-knowing, all-wise and all powerful AI, we should probably pay someone to sit next to its electrical plug.