"allergenic" poems
The Jewish brothers in Defiance were definitely tough.
One wanted to **** many Germans, the other to save many Jews.
The German soldiers were expendable, unmarried, unremarkable.
Each little death was very little, a little spittle in a big wind.
Fast forward to my friend's son's bar mitzvah or daughter's
coming of age ceremony. Food is abundant, the music frenetic,
the rabbi paid. Gifts generous but not obvious.
Wealth does not obviate death and we know it.
Here too we have natural leaders. Youth basketball coaches,
school principals and, again, interpreters of prayers. When
violence comes to the neighborhood they are who we'll first look to
for governance and guns. Unless have you read The Admirable
Crichton?
Boredom, boredom conflated with loneliness, may be a sign
of good luck. To live a good length or light year away from man's
bad breath, allergenic perfumes, sickening flatulence and shed hair.
But you are drawn back into the debate about perfection by your own
********
While teaching at the old city jail I have learned this: only meditation
upon the periodic table can save your soul. From itself.
Imagining the world without the self will make you whole.
What else is there to say. Do less until one thing's done well.
After the war the brothers started a small trucking company
in the Bronx. Grateful for such peace, the accounting
was relaxing. They thought back to how they met their wives, naked
before the bombs and bullets. How they lost and found themselves in
what happened.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
When I wear makeup
I feel unstoppable
courageous
beautiful.
so beautiful.
but I don't mean regular makeup,
mascara lipstick eyeliner blush etc,
I mean the kind that takes hours to apply,
transforming myself into hit characters
ghastly ghouls
alien creatures
minotaurs
ziggy stardust
I mean painting myself
with all the theatricality I can afford.
I feel like I can breath when I wear my makeup,
I feel okay and calm and like nothing can touch me
above all else I feel safe.
so safe
with that paint,
everybody's looking at the makeup
instead of me,
they admire and compliment the mask I've crafted
and it makes me happy to know
they can't see my plain pale face underneath,
the outrageous conception
has formed a shield
allowing me to step out in public
without being afraid to exist.
when I wear my makeup
I'm allowed to be whomever I please
and mingle-talk freely with all I want,
my makeup lets me be like everyone else.
The only downside is that not every week is spirit week,
my gentle skin is too irritated by even the most
hyper-allergenic makeup and acne protrudes
and at the end of it all I still have to wash it off,
watch my happy colors go down the sink drain,
the mask doesn't last forever,
and I'm left standing there the next day,
without my makeup
without my shield
and I feel so naked,
I feel incomplete and scared.
I wish every week was spirit week,
and that my skin was tough,
so that I could paint my face every day
so I wouldn't have to be afraid.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
A pair of flip flops
are delivered into his lair
also known as my apartment
they have been coated with some dust
from alongside a lake, where wild things roam
then washed in the lake,
just for his enjoyment
and he tears into them, kicking and biting
in the morning, they are presented to me
in a new style: the corrugated look
a bug he's found on the patio and killed
is brought in and he sets it down in the middle of the living room
freshly vacumed rug shows it off well
then back to more stylizing
Last year's Walmart's purple flip flops
are now objects d'art
and now eating the expensive hypo-allergenic food
meant for the old cat, his foster father/mother
who used to chew off his whiskers when he was a kitten
and then, time for nap
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 1:52 PM UTC
You know I'm tired of playing this game
Always chasing the right girl away
All because I'm too blind and stupid chasing after the wrong
Why am I playing this ******* game
It's like I'm allergenic to the truth,
And just enjoy beating my self as if I'm slave
Like seriously what the **** am I doing with my life
Ruining it, maybe
Because I'm sure as hell ain't making it better
I mean look at me battle scares are bruises imprisons my body in the jail ceil in monopoly
Only if it were a game
But no, this real life
This is reality, what my life will be based off of
But stupid ol' me treat it as if it was a ************* game
Why can't I get it through my thick skull that is not a ******* game
Am I retarted or just that slow
It is as if my ******* chained my arms to the **** floor and threw away the god **** keys
What the **** am I doing with my god **** life
Why am I throwing it away as if it is worthless tool
Am I really that much of a fool
Just sitting down on this stool watching the clock tic
What the **** am I doing with my life
No seriously someone please tell
Cause clearly I'm not bright enough to know
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
She called me over when her parents left, and invited me over for a date.
Before I was in her room
It was advised to bring some protection.
Latex?
All for her to be done?
————
Latex Gloves.
I pulled out and began scanning my fingers across her room.
At the end of the room :vines.
Vines from trees, flowers emerging through and from. An allergenic smell emitted—carving out the thick toxins as they fell onto the floor like a staircase of crumbling debris.
Like pages of books falling flat onto the floor ill by the plague and far from recovery.
The smell of lavendery-daffodils. Like new laundry, everything was scented in this room, by color and by smell.
No visualization decoded by my eyes all because they were fried.
Red and puffed.
The frequency in the room, making zap-roided sounds.
Electric like all the different shades of blue, a savory sound and a unironic taste.
I would not want to explain because I kept it all to myself.
I marveled at it all and not whatever was in front of me.
I viewed her emotions as inferior to this delight of a room.
Far better than anything sensory she could of course do.
A distraction these walls became
Overwhelming to me was not the best of both worlds.
The only distractions were nothing but this interior design…
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 8:16 PM UTC
i want for you all the good things
the things that i cannot provide
and when you notice that i'm watching
i will start to run and hide
and when your sister starts to stumble
on a pornographic page
i will kiss you in the hopes
that it will quell your seething rage
for me the meaning is uncertain
but it certainly contains
aftereffects behind the curtain
editing from our own brains
our self-restraint is so unsightly
it starts to slither through my mind
behind my eyeballs touching lightly
i'm slowly starting to go blind
and the madness is a mixture
of the melancholy glee
and then the heartfelt hatred sprouts
and grows with my philosophy
into a plant that's filled with pollen
for your allergenic eyes
one you think that you can handle
until you stop and see the size
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 12:40 PM UTC