Art is good
medication so you'll
deal with this creatively.

You've careened into this so
make the wreck,
the chaos
bloom on a page.
It might even help.

You're going to be a comic book artist
because in the face of such things
words fail and lips
falter,  and you
want to knock your head comedically.
You want
to conjure silly star-loops for
smashing into this
feeling.
Knocked-out.
Reeling.
Draw, draw out
and ink in your malady.

Crash!

The worst is when
your heart is the caricature.
A full-page feature,
a splash,
of high-strung colours
begging to be neatened.

Splash!

Your
cartoon heart. An
image of a fat, crimson
apple
like a clip-art pic, got
a little worm poking through
it.

Eating, eating away
to leave a love
or loss-sized hole.
Fat white bubbles announcing
hurt!
so graphically.

Go on and
draw it more lurid. If
the feeling is here, you might as well
feel it.
Let the slops of gaudy red
and green
bleed and
bleed
out of the panel.
Stain it, stain
the gutter
where time happens.

At least it gives the comic
a heartbreaking!
twist.

And then you turn the page.

Wild Honey Badger:
The Punk Rocker of the wild.
Fight for your right to party.

Wild Honey Badger:
The Chuck Norris of the wild.
Fear itself fears you.

Wild Honey Badger:
Comedically psychopathic,
Like Frank in Blue Velvet.

Respect the Honey Badgers
and they will, most likely,
Still not respect you.

Tessellation & Interstices


”A tessellation or tiling is the covering of a surface,
often a plane, using one or more geometric shapes,
called tiles, with no overlaps and no gaps…In mathematics, tessellation can be generalized to higher dimensions and a variety of geometries.”

the insistent need to be distinguished
means many are not,  
indeed,
this hunger
to be an influencer
and never just an influencé.

creeply creates a linear surface,
a flooring to be trod upon,
a tessellated plane,
were we each fit in
right-tight juxtaposition
and we are noticeable for our
uniformity and

the scuff marks of having been trod upon,
well used.

it is in the chips of irregularities,
the overlaps and the gaps
where we touch and connect
with our individual Ah Ha’s,
where our Venn Diagram Lives
intersect, infect, interfere, inject,
in the tiny
interstices
tween us,
the jagged, irritatingly edgy
rubbings
that the friction of creativity
is comedically inseminated.

I love a good tense sweat,
that invasive, deep boring burring,
that demands
instant creative solutions lest the angst of
an unwritten-in-the-moment-poem
is even more annoying,
before it is annoyingly,
befogged, lost forever.

that is why with old age,
fearsome fast
short term memory loss,
some turn to the speedy freedom of
free verse,
unconstrained by socks
and well fitting shoes,
and the slip on sneakers
of rhyming,
so insistent on perfection,
that the
burr is absorbed,
the irritant rubbing is creamed away,
and that loss of
a pouring of the soul’s ******* of
Done!
is
our exclamatory mutual curse

You’re no Harley Quinn
But you romanticize mental illness
Like a comic book villain-
It’s comedically tragic
To play with the full deck
Devoid the Joker

The worst part about mental health
Isn’t keeping it a secret
It’s just the revolution glamorized
To sell you more ****;

I watched a movie
That comedically displayed
Suicide
And *******
Did I try to be offended
The whole time
But I feel like
For me at least
When you've been suicidal before
And you watch a movie
Like that
And everyone laughs
You learn to laugh along too.

And maybe
Some people
Could take offense
But that movie is a masterpiece

I learned somewhere along the way
(Maybe when I lost all faith in humanity)
That some things
You just gotta laugh at

The kids who make the most jokes about suicide and depression
Have often lived it
Dark humor
Is more or less,
Earned

And I think I've payed my dues.

We are searching on a cloud
You and I

You and I
We see little ants in a big crowd

We will ponder above them,
While they try to be found

You and I,

We talk about our friend who isn't with with us
Who thinks of his friend
Who is not with us

We'll cherish the artificial heat for that man
Embellish his soul which aspires to smile

For he is not a man
But a child with a yearning past
A useless smile

His kaleidoscope jazz
The enigmatic trance
Of illusion, he dances

Be stirred, for he is a sensitive boy
He is shaken, and don't be mistaken
We love him to death

And comedically dark chaos is, oh such fun

Take turns on this cloud
And let us be taken
Half humble
Half free

We are the cream of the dark sky
And the sailors delight in the red, fumed night

Don't be so analytical

And rest your eyes darling

And you will still be awaken

When your head touches the pillow

We will still be awake in the cloud

Having *** in our cloud

It started so long ago, batched pregnancy, or genes or just happenstance
The State comin' in to take the mentally challenged boy away from the Mother
His grandmother sayin', "Let em' go!" Her cryin', that ol' song and dance.
Then them keepin' that boy, wishin' they'd maybe had another
The Bullies, the bullies, beatin' that boy up to a pulp everytime
Of course he's actin' out, out of sheer boredom, exclusion, pure down loneliness
They all sayin' he won't amount to nothin' but husslin' a nickle and a dime
Or perhaps on a darker side of the Pinnacle of life, a bit more shady and endin' up felonious

Somethin' special happens instead of everyone's messed up ol' putrid stinkin' thinkin'
That mentality challenged boy realized he was different than everyone else, grew up profilin'
His morals and values fell below the poverty line, frankly now it's his attitude that's stinkin'
He became, man about town, givin' it down, yeah, he really thought he was stylin'

The lives he twisted as he manipulated every relationship right down to it's raw bone
Everytime ones gone, another came and gone, never time to think about retribution
Never time to hear inside his head, the lone voice, just a chance to finally be alone
Because wouldn't that be way too much to actually get in touch, what a revolution
Years go anonymously by, with him always abandonin' what he was shone

He always knew each relationship would end, drained, in tragedy and despair
Then one day his lackadaisical attitude brought disease and the end of his comedically fed life
As Someone takes serious interest, someone loving, bringin' a Southern charms fresh air
All it took was someone to love him, to break the spell that had circumvented his pathetic strife

That sad day when, after years of being loved, the mentally challenged man is now a caregiver
Watching as he gives care to that one, the only one that would ever love him, as they slowly die
He would do anything to save this life, what dealin', what possible things, a kidney... a liver
In the end, it was just squeezin' every moment of time together, rememberin' only the best things, no lie

Now, alone, finally broken, he grieves, finds his Creator, makes his peace, grows up
The years follow and he realizes his brain is damaged, people can't stand to be around him
Suddenly his Government says he may have to not receive care for a serious Disease, he wants to just give up
Prospects, there really are none, he really wants to go on but things look so grim

Guess my time's up, huh?
Should of known it to be so
Would of wished you'd figured this out at birth
I guess you just really didn't know
You could have put me to sleep
We do it everyday
When animals are sick we put them down
So they don't suffer this way
Years and years of never being accepted anywhere
You think I'd get a clue
Perhaps you think I should do it myself

NO! Sorry, I'll leave that up to YOU!

wordlessly sinking
to the soundtrack of soft rain
and Explorers on the stereo

I’ve said time and again
that life really is a joke

but right now, as I tell you that I -

Explorers plays obnoxiously,
I hear myself speak so comedically

and we can’t help but laugh about it later.

As bad as life can be,
at least it can be funny -

I said

free me
free me from this world