"bickle" poems
Travis Bickle and Kurt Cobain
are sitting in a Diner
and drinking coffee.
"I couldn't take it anymore", says Travis
"so I went in there and shot them all."
Kurt silently drinks his coffee.
"*Life has a tendency to kick you in the *****
every chance it gets.*", Travis sighs.
Kurt takes a bite from his
apple pie
and flushes it down with some more coffee.
"*The hole in my neck
still hurts sometimes.*", Travis continues.
"Man, that really hurt."
Kurt throws a few bucks
on the counter and
slides down slowly from his stool.
"*Fuckin' ***** he whispers
as he leaves the diner.
The waitress takes the money
and moves on to the kitchen.
Her name is Chantalle.
She has breast-cancer
but does not know it yet.
Life has a tendency to kick you
whether you have ***** or not.
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 9:19 AM UTC
Shannadoa, laquadesh. Batta-anna, mlick ka dek.
Philly fickle ******
Nickle dime dash,
Dangle ****** bongle,
Bickle bockle bash,
Sunny sun sunshine,
Beady brain bright,
****** lovey Mondays,
Matthew mum might.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 10:49 PM UTC
The idea had been growing in my brain,
Queens, fairies, dopers, junkies, sick, venal,
They are all animals anyway,
Become a person like other people,
Organization is necessary,
All the animals come out at night,
There never has been any choice for me,
Wash all this **** off the streets. My body fights,
There is no escape. I am God's lonely man,
Headaches that stay and never go away,
Thank God for the rain. Wash the garbage and
cannot put it back together again,
One day there will be a knock on the door,
and it will be me. What hope is there for (me?)
Sep 17, 2020
Sep 17, 2020 at 6:57 PM UTC
Act 1
Standing near glass, one is never alone,
The room is always crowded
An inanimate audience, rapt,
Starved for words as water in the desert.
They are quite fashionably dressed.
Fashionably late to the lisztomanic social hour
Entertaining Pan, Eros, and Aphrodite
So to catch the eyes of some
Rebel of the heart;
Ah, but who could take their eyes
Off the face of world-hope and earthly pain?
Deep and Endless as he rides the soft, pink waves
Of love from strangers infinite and faceless,
There we see Alpha and Omega
Cruelty in his perfect Travis Bickle impression:
“You talkin’ to me?
You talkin’...to me?”
Act 2
With dumb admiration, they all look back,
Whispering like gospel, praise and fear alike.
A show was one to give, and so it was given,
But the silence is deafening--
So, this fourth wall fails us,
The veil of envious telepathies
Cast locks of hair errant and
Eye with nocturnal shadow--
Disassembly spiders like ice from water
And all in the foreground fades
Washed out by limerant lights
Wasting outward tithes
That, within or without, we are blind
Lest that slowly shattering negative-space
Converts, excites, and tosses us back
To the depreciating eye and its yawning folds
Outside the mirror’s window
The implicit volley from another world
Those faraway pastures of greener plane.
Act 3
There, there I know the judgements of distant onlookers
Are but the prodigal son of fear and desire
But knowledge-of and feeling-toward are two faces
Of no glass possible to modern physics,
And yet, though I’m the spectacle
They can see what little part of the world
I cannot.
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 12:18 PM UTC