"matress" poems
Polished off the filler rods
now lifes got me dreaming
soley about the silver lining
the spooning of the woman on the moon
Keep mapping the schematic, the big move
heading straight to the oil soaked cash
Ready again to make the great dash
This time I'll save my dimes
for those unavoidable hard times
I'll pile it under my matress
a secrete stash thats all mine
Work my *** to the bone
by welding up a storm
Sitting all leathered up
on my light weaver throne
To meditate and consentrate
on 13 times the suns bright
Keep the eyes focused and fixate
count to ten when the mechanics frustrate
Troubleshoot the lines of life
fix the issue then
collect the lute.
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 6:14 PM UTC
i fell in love with you
once
long ago
with my eyes closed
and the dream-screen drawn
we danced
like music notes across their barred landscape
we danced
the loveliest late-night lullaby
you became my hiding place
lilac and lace linens
stretched over a lumpy matress
my indiana jones
waiting patently and poetically
in a long-lost temple of slumber
you come back to me in waves
softly and subtly
while i'm half awake
you're kissing the broken down shorelines of an insomniacs holiday
i wish i could keep you
like an empty bottle in the window-sill
or a heart arrhythmia
this lonely romantics cardiovascular waltz
let me snag you up from my dream-dust
and stitch you to my sole like a lost boys shadow
let me find you in my reality
tip-toeing over an underlined paragraph
of a beer stained paper-back
i'll find you
someday
after a long-over-due nights sleep
perhaps in the guitar strings
or type-writer keys
or at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey in the ever-humming freezer
be mine
evasive valentine
i'll even let you hide in the curls of my hair
or under my fingernails
i'll keep you
if you'll let me
just don't forget me
come sun-up
when you gallup away
from my sub-conscious escape
take my heart-rate with you
tucked into your breast-pocket
like a floral handkercheif
or a photogaraph taped to the dash
come back
to the grey matter kingdom
tucked behind my eyelashes
i'll meet you in the idiosyncrasies of my synapses
writing love stories that never once happened
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 12:56 PM UTC
No more komakazee crows
No more angry nehibors and
Their apple guns.
No more slow winks.
No more toilet bowls
And no more ham.
No more wet hair after a shower.
No more drooling on my face.
Remember that **** dog.
Remember you and him kissed like eskimos.
Remember sleeping in my train tunnel.
I wish I still played with trains.
I wish I still played euphonium.
I wish we never lost our house.
My old friend, is it time for me to go away.
You were the last.
The last pet mom ever will own.
She told us no more animals.
She cried tonite,
She said im so sorry soxy.
A longntime ago
A longtime 6 hours in school felt.
A long strected out cat
Waited for us on the steps.
I rubbed my face in his glossy chest.
I rubbed my third grade nose up and down
His body hoping for a play bite.
His tongue licked my ears three times,
Three times until he took a bite.
My hands resembled the bird,
The bird he never killed.
He turned me into a contortinist.
He made my leggs cramp.
He made my matress his middle ground.
His middle my yoga sleep.
After showers he hunted my head.
He layed on my face.
He licked my dripping buzz cutt.
He licked the milk off of my first mustache.
He ruined the left over ham.
He made my favorite sandwhich
A challenge.
He could smell me open the can and mix the
Mayonase with pickles.
He left me a dead mouse on my train tracks.
He had white drops of paint on his paws.
White furry paint,
Mom told us he had sox on his feet,
He was born with the name we gave him
Sox not socks,
Not the socks you get tired of wearing.
Not the socks you get mixed up durrning laundry.
Our sox kept us on our toes.
Our sox.
The **** cat
That really owned our house.
Hell always be sox,
The **** cat,
The **** voice my brother made up.
The **** drool I let rub against my face
Will never go away.
Ill kiss him like an eskimo.
Ill biuld him a eskimo fire
And hope he chooses to
rub noses with My dog J.C again
I hope he goes gently into the nite (Dylan Thomas).
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
when i get tired
true vibrations
marky mark
and my funky ****
you say its bunk
one hit
and you on the top bunk
bunk beds as kids
jumpin matress to matress
now i dream of a girlfriend and a mistress
when we all kiss
i taste my first kiss
i want but i cant have
your with a better man
i was a lost cause
and i know
i listned i learned i taught myself not to
hurt
not to hurt
but to say shes doing better
cross my heart and hope to stunt
cuz
i aint
no punk
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC
I send lil paper ships sailing down the curb
as the crows and the vultures attack the trashcans in the suburbs
I watch the rich kids driving there nice whips
but they are a bunch of wimps
one punch in there lip
one kick in the knees
and they'd just limp away
because even though im a poor kid
ive lived more life
even though they call me skid
even though im a skinny kid
id still bust all over your girlfreinds ****
and in the black light she would shine like a florecent lightbulb
while your sitting on your golf cart
im making **** noises on the belly of your women
making her my mistress
making the matress squeak
as my lil paper ship sails down
who would've known what was happening when i was making it
now were both laughing
because when you get home
your gonna be kissing my ****
ha
ha
ha
Aug 4, 2011
Aug 4, 2011 at 12:01 PM UTC
Laying on a sheetless matress,
day-drinking until bottled spirit dry.
Loveless in a ghost's nest,
never believing I
could be something more,
something from a Christmas card.
Take the long neck, smash the body
and fantasize to the shard.
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 3:39 PM UTC
A text message with uppercase letters.
He could of been an auctioneer "YUP".
Instead he works inside eyelids.
My caukerspaniels ears look like **** carpet tube socks.
Im dreaming of women and dogs all over my one pillow matress.
The same ones who ruined couches and charmed the mail man.
He ran off like a dobermen unaware she extened the leash button.
If im lucky the mornings are reliable (they usally are)
The man upstairs our heavy metal enthusiest
Tap dances away the land words aspestoce flake by flake.
Hes proud of his roman garden (its really greek).
Business as usual,
I take a deep breath and loose fifty pounds all over again.
The fountain gets hot and my dollar store shampoo
makes my hair smell like juicy fruit.
The kitchens old.
The antiqicated refridgorator farts like a unrully bachlor.
And the microwave was upenheimers favorite way to nuke a
cold cup of coffee. I regrett the things I did to save time.
The sizzling eggs cry "you dont know how good you got it".
The toast smashes the yoke.
A head line reads:
over four hundread civillians killed from drone strikes.
The radio bleats "waking up..... welcome to the new age"
"Welcome to the new age".
I thought of the boy in the bubble and paul simon.
"These are the days of miracle and wonder"
"These are the days of miracle and wonder".
Outside my double pain window I look for women in jogging shorts.
Its still not warm enouph. Instead I find an army of children waiting for
Their yellow bus. A boy drops his lunch and a girl picks it up.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 7:26 PM UTC
You know what I think is sad
I used to miss the way you would curse
I missed every lie you said,
even though your lying was the worst
The tapes in your bag said it all;
the discs you spun said 'whatevs'
or 'I'm deep and loving'
I betcha you thought people heard The Smiths
and didn't think you were bluffing.
Your poetry was garbage, too --
I don't blame you for scrapping your work.
You lied about cutting your legs,
the pain under your pale skin,
you exhausted every quirk,
and wished for more within.
I betcha you're sitting somewhere
twenty-something and super-bored.
Probably still choking on your cigarettes
against your matress board,
criticizing people thinking differently
I hope one day you read a book
and ask who would publish me
You're probably the words
stuck in some other's throat;
resenting you and the
****** Mountain Goats.
I never liked to criticize
the way you looked,
but your teeth are the
second most crooked
thing about you
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 2:45 PM UTC
My days are for me,
As yours are for you,
I'll be what I'll be,
You'll do what you do.
Exchanges of dust,
Embraces now changed,
Glances of lust,
Still taunting my brain.
But love keep your distance,
For I have concern,
It is this you must know,
This you must learn:
Relentlessly vicious, the cogs are that turn.
I erode and I sting and I drown and I burn.
And a dark orange rust drops as they grind.
Leaving a trail of flakes of a furious mind.
But the oil continues,
Continues to drip,
And greases them further,
And further I slip.
And the cogs gain momentum,
As my feet tell me "no!"
"No further, no further, no further we'll go",
So the pillows start grinning,
The blankets smile too,
The matress opens its arms for me to sink into.
And I know that as soon as my head touches those lips,
And I surrender myself to that feathery grip,
It could be days,
Who knows, maybe weeks,
Before I'm back out again walking the streets.
With two steps of a waltz that I couldn't not start,
All those caged birds flew out of my heart.
And what of the third?
The cogs have now turned,
And my feet cannot move,
What a lesson I've learned!
May 2010
Dec 23, 2010
Dec 23, 2010 at 2:13 PM UTC
"You are so unappreciative of what you have"
She screams at me as I lay in a bunk bed
My mattress is from 1982
With my feet dangling over the side
And my soleless shoes lay dead on the floor
My blanket filled with holes
My closet with my clothes from last year all over the floor
All hand-me-downs
My Christmas list half filled
The two presents I really did need
Never came
And not once did I beg for anything more
Little does she know that the school kids
Have a king temperpedic matress
Their five pairs of shoes wore once underneath
Their wool blankets to keep warm
Bran new year brand new clothes
Hand-me-downs I think no
Their Christmas list complete and more
With presents they did not use or care for
And all I can hear from them is more more more
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
A desert empty, hard, and mute some implied and maligning agent mere dust, soft clay, of eroding tides unsettling account, no balance to come in the pall of mistakes past
who are you to ignore the obvious effects of your actions? and ask the world to bend to your ignorance of other ends more exists without than is known within or spoken invisible but no less real, though forgotten our wills have mass
an epidemic of inattention content with meaningless negligence on a curved path, tethered and constrained wrought between collisions and propelled to escape
but man himself is a force of nature which counters all others and conquers so as to undo itself in its wake, risk values all reward so-called providence designs all consequence
the game plays itself
so it goes, and so it went
so it goes, and so it will, at the end
so it goes, and so it will, so it went, at the end, as it always would
the measure of man isn’t that which he hazards no hope in abandoning to shaping molding chance this alien land holds scars of man’s conversion does it manifest our victory, our destiny, or our barbarity?
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 4:08 AM UTC
I have long desired a night undisturbed
full of sleep and coherent dreams
but that the sun arrives faster than light's speed
leaves me wondering
if there is ever an end to the war
I battle throughout weeks, months,
and years and years on end
After all I am easy to bend
like a daisy at the hand of storm
sways, unyielding, entrusting the wild current
of passion that breaks her back
I strike a match to see with blind eyes
how far this night, intemperate, will extend
And who shall have removed my footprints
when dawn breaks to swallow
every secret I whispered to this dusty road
and crushed beneath my feet
They say day is a neat deceit
for those who believe black is evil
and I hardly think it untrue
with stars ****** off their shine
to magnify the glory of darkness
when my body hits the matress
I can feel it quite as it is, darkness
but in no shade of beauty or grace
as if I never had any stars to sacrifice
with love their inborn proclivity
there indeed is no sincerity
in the way I am deaf to the sound of dark
A Beethoven masterpiece, the starry night
Such starless of a night this life has become
Or is it that life is still there?
handsome and fair, with his head in clouds?
My pinstriped eyes fail to glimpse in a crowd
the warmth and glow of this flame
of dark, this grand grand enchantress
Behind prison bars the war goes on
with no light to clear the mess...
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 6:56 PM UTC
I didn't get to school today
I woke up
usual time
and lay still
my arms felt like they were
strapped to the bed
my legs felt like the bones
had been replaced with lead
my shoulder sunk into the matress
and my head was stuffed with
cotton or water
I wasn't able to move
so I cried
and after a while
of crying I finally lifted a shoulder
nothing was wrong with me
but the weight
I just couldn't move
look what depression is doing to me
how am I meant to live through this?
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC
**you stand in line
for liquid bread
with your thin dime
newspaper matress
you lick your lips
a cardboard box
will.be your crypt
sad
forsaken
so forlorn
your façade is *****
tattered
worn
the gold was stolen
from your vaults
passersby see only faults
the picket fence
around your heath
is as broken
as your teeth
the many choices
you have made
have sunk you to
an early grave
you're self-abusive
destruction bent
*your temple is a
TENEMENT***
SoulSurvivor
(C) 6/17/2016
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
bedroom.
The floor met the sun,
dancing there, on the carpet.
Then on the dresser, the walls, the bed.
It gave out a long kaleidoscope of ginger and gold,
then distilled into whiskey on Ramona's wrist,
living on her islands.
Here the sun became barly.
The hot bed sheet rolled back thinly,
her islands then became a continent.
Ramona lay her arm in a curve.
It was the undressed river of her matress.
She was asleep in her bed and awoke in the hot lakes where the sun,
peering through the window,
shined in all day.
Now it had died down into a bronze knot of loosened sun.
She lay there watching the last of its exhale.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 3:23 AM UTC
c Am F G
cause i saw you there just walking up the stairs
i caught your eye i thopught you didnt care
but you looked at me with your heart out of its lair
and i always and i always will
then you siad hello i fell out my chair
cause your the girl that doesnt ever share
just kids herself cause shes the rightful air
and i always and i always will
but a kiss between a fist is not a kiss
a love between the sheets is not a bliss
and a feather isnt light if its under pressure
and i always and i always will
cause i hate that i love you now
cause i hate that i love you now
cause i hate that i love you now
and i always and i always will
my heart was just soo soft you thought youd break in
and tear it to the core without mistaking
and leave me in the station without a care in
but i always i always will
you got with other guys like it was ending
but told me that you loved me to remain in
and whispered in my ear just to entertain them
but i always i always will
the part of that was desperate to beleive in
got smaller every day when you explained it
and left my soul with nothing but an apron
but i always i always will
cause i hate that i loved you now
i hate that i loved you now
i hate that i loved you now
and i always and i always will
we'd run through fields of gold just for a sunset
and fall asleep while stars shined over our heads
and kiss untill the day was just an object
and i always and i always will
we'd laugh and sing till we were out of breath
then we could sit and giggle on the matress
and sit and dream or just get undressed
and i always i always will
your eyes were just soo deep i could of drowned in
with reddish fire to keep me melting helpless
and your lips to keep my heart on the bleep test
and i always and i always will
cause i hate that i love you now
i hate that i love you now
i hate that i love you now
and i alway i always will
i cleaned up all my things to be expected
and walked out of the door without expressing
while you looked over me next to my best friend
but i always i always will
i shuddered in the cold without a blanket
while sat next to the fire and i was helpless
while you were out just thinking of yourself and
but i always i always will
i stuggled to control my ending passion
my whole life was gone in a split second
and i pulled for strings when i should of just forgotten
but i alway i always will
now its been a while and im on my feet
and i smile again when i see you on the street
my life has been a trial but i was accepted
and i always and i always will
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 4:30 PM UTC
I'm getting quite tired of waiting
waiting for you
waiting for "us"
If you would even call "it" an "us."
Last night I couldn't wait
I picked up my phone, pouring the thoughts of my heart
into that little text box, and before I let my finger just push that send button
I stopped
resisting it with all my might; i stopped
I deleted word after word after word, watching everything reverse with a sense of melancholy elegance
I watched as the bar ran out of words to take from my fingertips, and then haulted
I froze staring into space; until I slowly turned my phone off and set it on my nightstand
I fell back onto my bed and nearly drowned myself in an ocean of blankets,
and let out a sigh of regret as my matress cradled my oh so tired back
I watched my dusted ceiling fan spin once, then twice, and then once more;
just wondering if you've ever done the same
if you've ever felt the same
if you've ever felt this feeling of melancholy elegance
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC
*A Story of Scientology and the
Mental Health System Connection
WONDERLAND: THE FLATTENED APPLE*
Someone told me once Los Angeles was the Flattened Apple. You take New York City and squish it down like a pancake and you've got Los Angeles. Someone else told me that the Big Apple is full of worms. Well. If Los Angeles is any indication, that statement goes well beyond truth.
There are parts of LA that are quite beautiful. The parts the wealthy live in. But that was sure not the part I was living in. My first station in the Sea Organization was on Hollywood Boulevard.
My first real memory of Hollywood was viewing the nightcrawlers. The tacky, ****** prostitutes of both sexes on the corners. The Street Preachers looking only a half step above the subjects of their ardent sermons. I had never had any real encounters with homeless people where I was from. Hollywood was a magnet for them it seemed. Their hair askew, and shopping carts with stuttering wheels de rigueur. The touristas. Japanese with their ubiquitous cameras. The Midwestern jons seeking the hookers (of both sexes). The stars on the Hollywood sidewalks seemed to have fallen from the smoggy sky, to lie tarnished amongst the refuse, inanimate and human. It was like a sledge to the chest... and broke my HEART.
I was given some worn, old-smelling sheets, and the address of the place I was to be sleeping for the next few weeks. It turned out to be a flop-house. At first I thought there had been a mistake. But I was not the only SO member to be entering. I went to my room... so small you had to go out into the hall to change your mind. The toilets were communal and up the hallway. My sleeping arrangement? A twin-style matress on the floor. No other "furniture" graced the room....
... **WELCOME TO "CHURCH".**
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 4:17 AM UTC
I cant' write How I feel
Act on whats not real
theres no peace if not resloved
How can I script love,
If Im constantly correcting
your lines your stumbling
I need this to be real,
something you really feel....
Not just words you memorized
actions emotionalized,
but this has to be real
I need you to feel......
Im not looking for an actress
Who's use to her back upon a matress,
Im' looking for a lover
who doesn't just love undercovers,
Show it to me in your eyes
or eles this script is lies,
let me hear it in your voice
as if you had no other choice,
So recite your lines
As if It was inception of the mind,
and as we do embrace
Let passion flow along your face,
and say it....
what I wrote upon your heart
becasue for me this is ture,
"I Love You" .....
Let the world hear it,
Present your debut
And lets throw away this script
Cuz now its just Me and You....
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 11:57 AM UTC
there are
millions
of reasons
to stay
in bed
pillows
matress
&
blankets
are a few
the way
the sun
is blocked
by curtains
is another
morning air
void
of sadness
negativity
&
pain
is another
but
there are things
that make you
get out
of it
like her
smile
voice
&
existence
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 8:03 AM UTC
shining sheet
satin chiffon scarves
beaded curtain of
aquamarine
and
chrystophase
who knew
beauty could wreak
such chaos?
overturned dumpsters
blocking the road
and a
matress floating down the street!
sirens shrieking
and cars flooded in roadways
some silly motorists
will be swept away in the washes
MONSOON MADNESS!
but agave bloom's
pale yellow petals
the color of an
old wedding gown
drenched with dew
sparkling
like
diamonds
with
the
parting
curtains
the sun cannot be
restrained
N
I B
A O
R W
SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/1/2016
Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 3:23 PM UTC
Your favorite CD's are waiting
I think going home is a good thing.
Your lover's messages on your phone
and the cat that you left all alone
empty trays and the kitchen sink's left unkept
I think going home is the first step
before you deal with every little details
of the odd and the unexpected
Your favorite books are waiting
to be opened and read once again
bookmark stains on the pages
you have read over and over
turned yellow with some cobwebs on the drawer.
Your favorite matress is waiting
neatly folded but cold and yearning
to be warm again with you and your pillow.
they are waiting; your collection of guitars
each strings unplayed and slowly becoming dull
not as shiny as before, standing on the cold floor
I think going home is the safest way
so I think it's best if you do it today...
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 5:07 AM UTC
drop.
the morphine finally reaches her weak body through the long tube
drop.
the morphine enters the vein and sets off for a journey in her aching body
drop.
the morphine spreads and rushes with her pale blood to the remotest parts
drop.
from the tips of her toes, the relief wipes her body and her soul
she drops my hand and she closes her eyes
she doesn't need me, she doesn't need her heart
her brain is just an ***** hiding there in the skull
what she needs now is her spirit, that is percolating through the white plastic hospital-matress
it is flowing away as a river, escaping from the pain
she turns inside-out, she sinks in herself
in colours, in pleasures, in eternity, in unexplored daffodil-fields, in heavens and hells
the dripping stops, I can see it
the morphine has evaporated, she can feel it
her spirit crawls back into her damaged body
connects the brain to the heart, gets the system ready
back to reality with open eyelids
welcome back again pain, at least you were killed for a while
but the core of the disease is still in her belly
she needs more morphine, more dreams, more of eternity
drop.
Oct 11, 2011
Oct 11, 2011 at 9:17 AM UTC