Inside my ears, away from the moving mouth, jolly potatoes in sprout.
they sing and sway in my golden fertile valley of wax,
and when the moving mouth outside  is talking of her dead cat,
they sing merry tunes that make me smile and laugh,
but then they hear the mountain thunder which is her slap.
The village elder potatoe watches for the wind and hail,
and the fire in sky which is her red polished nail.
This wise potato's beard protects his flock,
She trims his beard when she cuts my ear hair off,
And when her eye stares inside,
The bravest potatoes go fight and die,
" You need to clean out your ears, you haven't heard a word I said..."
Hundred potaytets safe, ten hero potatoes dead,
There is no crying for the Spartan spud,
Who the Cyclops had smooshed to mud,
For their bodies dry up into chips,
That crunch out the sound of an angry ditz,
They never stop,
Ever since I was six,
And my wedges, singing me a ditty,
Most charming and beautiful in all my city,
I giggled to " hey hoo ***** boy, let's roll in the wax"
And everyone at the funeral stared at me aghast.
Oh well, maybe they are right, and I a fool,
For educating myself within my golden school,
But I know first came my laugh, and it was alive,
graves it could not attach, so it reversed within to survive,
They sing and sway in my fertile valley of wax,
The village elder potato plods on with his staff,
Giving thanks to the wax builder,
And like a maestro, directs the valley to give the builder back his laugh,
And a young potato stick in a long dress,
And a sleeveless shirt,
Sings the solo in golden concert,
" they hate me baby, they make me baby, and I'm gold and they are dirt,
It is they my baby that are absurd,
Oooh oh, boss me around my king, your laughter makes me sing."

And when my name was wrong in the obituary of my father I began to laugh,
And at me everyone was mad,
My ear potatoes sing and dance,
In the golden valley of wax,
And the village elder potato plods on with his beard and staff.
And there is no more mountain thunder, no more slap,
No more Cyclops's eye,
The Spartan spuds are farmers now and don't have to die.
And my laughter flows out like a river from the  golden canal inside.

Dear Cecil the Lion,

What happened to you was a terrible thing.
What you represent most assuredly will live onward.
The  ****** and dishonest way you were lured out
of the animal sanctuary to have a bullet put through you
was a tragedy.  

But,
you can go unfuck yourself.
To be honest,
your death ranks just above a smooshed fly or mosquito.
After I heard the news of your death,
I finished taking a **** and went about my day.

I'm glad people are upset about something. Its time people started getting mad as hell & stopped taking it. BUT, maybe we should reconsider our priorities for a second the next time we decide to erupt in a collective outrage.

Whatever happened to #blacklivesmatter?
Oh right, they're still trying to put an end to racism in many areas
where some police are still under the impression it's the 1950's.

Hey...how's the whole world hunger thing going?
Well, it's probably not helping what with the whole food wasting bit
the majority of us practice.
And yes, I know there will always be someone starving somewhere for some reason due to a variety of circumstances, but that doesn't mean we gotta sit around in apathy over it.

What ever happened with all those troops
we were so excited to support when it came time
to defending our country? Oh right...

How's the whole woman's rights thing going?

One more question; do we still care about education or is that something we've just given up thinking about?

Look, I realize the aforementioned list of
#blacklivesmatter,
world hunger,
support the troops,
woman's rights
& education
are weighty topics in & of themselves with lots of intricacies.
And I understand they're not going to be solved in a day.
But, these big five all have one thing in common;
people.

George Carlin once spoke about people who "always gotta be saving something" from animals to the planet,
"We don't even know how to take care of each other & we want to save the ******* planet?!"

And I get it, there are those out there that probably care more about animal lives than human lives, which is cool.
Hey, if that's your prerogative, I'll buy everyone who feels this way
a ticket to the jungle & you can start doing your part sooner,
and much more quietly, especially when some of us are trying to eat.

Because I swear to whatever you hold most sacred & holy,
if one more person tries to tell me
to stop eating meat because it's ******,
I'm going to wrap my hand around their neck & squeeze,
shaking them as I shout "Plants are living beings too you ******* *******!"

I get it.
Some can feel that deeply when they eat meat & it makes them uncomfortable to chow down on the flesh of something else.
But why are we having THAT discussion
when someone else somewhere is starving?!

After we get the world hunger thing under control,
then we can talk about the morality of what we put in our mouths.
After we prove that we can take care of ourselves and each other,
then we can move on to whatever animals are left.

"Still water runs deep." - Yiddish Proverb*

To sail within a boat
never rocked or tucked within a sea.
Long grass kissing the bow.
Mosquito hum, siren stand-in.

Brother big, brother strong.
I, the groove of big brother's elbow.
Clothes on the line.
Canary yellow, A-line dress.
The spring girls swelling, rippling
from the bashful shore.

Big brother hold me over edge.
My arms, my oars.
Splashing pasture, blades receding.
Adults at birthday parties.

Brother big, brother mast.
Climb.
Not only sail, but zephyr, I.
Snake through Rusty Bike River,
the tributary.
Spill.
Into the wide, into the Harding Family Ocean.

Where dolls, hair frayed and faces smooshed,
lounge half-submerged and mostly forgotten.
Where sea dogs test chain, test spike.
Eye the confident chickens strolling dock.
And then Mother turns on porch lamp,
soft words, ebbing to lighthouse.

Brother big, big brother.
My arms, my arms.

bruised knees and bandaids
your mom is no longer your best friend, she'll scream words that burn your ears
she won't read you fairy tales before you fall asleep at night
CD's and ballet
school buses, new folders and the boy next door named Tyler
he'll want you for your body, he'll spread rumors throughout the school
you'll only want it to go away
girls you share laughter with and teachers you idolize
everything becomes different
the only thing you'll share with those girls is a pack of cigarettes and the stories you hear in the hallway
gummy bears and juice boxes have turned into prescription medicine and shots of *****
just wishing for one good day
your special blankie and your favorite hair bow
hidden in a closet behind the new skirt your dad doesn't like you wearing
disney movies, popcorn made on the stove and your whole family smooshed onto one couch on a friday night
those friday nights turn into another day of choking back cheap alcohol and ignoring your grandmother's emails

i would see you in the bed, with the blanket tucked underneath your big feet
which would probably be hanging off the bed
because you're so tall.

hair smooshed up against a pillow,
                             naked under the sheets.

you make little sound
                         other than your slow inhale and exhale
sleep suits you wonderfully



and i would take off my cardigan
then my shirt
then my skirt and tights
then my socks
then my bra
then my underwear
and for a few seconds, i would be very cold
              
        but then, i would peel back the sea of blankets surrounding you

and feel the warmth being thrown into the universe by your skin
i would
                   i would kiss your shoulder

pour myself into the space between your arm and your waist

                   and nestle in deep, breathing in your scent
pulling the ocean back over us,
     not giving you a chance to shudder at the cold.

you are

musky and soft, the scent of a log cabin in the woods
                        with bread baking inside

you are warm enough to bake me.

                        and your warmth
fills me up

like a cup of love

that you will pour for me in the morning

I found a spider crawling up
the drainpipe and it freaked me out
for a minute until I realized
that I am bigger than a spider
and no arachnophobe at heart

I am no arachnophile either though
and so I smooshed the spider
with a paper towel into the wall
thereby ending its life and sparing
me and those I love from spiderbites

(from this particular eight-legged foe)
And likely sparing the flies as well
But that's not so great
But I still forgive myself
for messing with the natural order of things

And I forgive everyone who kills spiders
and everyone who chooses not to **** spiders
And every spider who eats a fly
And every spider who bites a man
even if that man dies.
I still forgive the spider, even if
it is not my spider to forgive.

And I forgive every web-spinner and maker
of things which are stronger than steel

And I forgive you too if you let me
but I won't forgive you if you fear the spiders
and I won't forgive you for smooshing them
if it's irrational and not for the sake
of saving the potentially bitten,
or at least for the sake of the flies.

I can't ever forgive you for that
anymore than I can ever stop thinking
about you and what it meant to be your friend.

Take my heart out of the gutter and shake it ‘till it bleeds.
That lonely mother-****** can’t breathe
unless the sinews stitch back together
like the veins of leaves,
all smooshed by heels and debris.
My heart can’t see.
Laying in that gutter; it can only believe.

I've never seen the sunrise as beautiful as the one I watched rise over you.
You had fallen asleep.
You had told me to wake you up if you did, you really wanted to see it.
But you're just so **** cute when you sleep.
The suns first rays shown through your golden hair, refracting the light into a beautiful spectrum of colors.
I leaned back on our blankets and sat up. Criss cross apple sauce, I took a pack of Luckies from my coat pocket. We had smooshed them at some point in our late night adventures but they were still intact.
With a unlit cigarette in between my lips which had grown so accustumed to kissing yours I looked at you. You were lying on your side, facing me with your back to the sun. The dew on the grass was surrounding our mound of blankets much like heart break had been circling our love; Threatening to precede but not truly troublesome.

Only heaven knows
Where this is going to go
But have you ever stopped long enough
To take a look at your toes

The ones on the right
The ones on the left
How over time
They all look so different

While some seem smashed
Or is that smooshed
Either way that you say
Look at the way that they look

They do love to be free
Fresh air makes them wiggle
And when touched have the need
To laugh out loud giggle

One look at my toes
Shows they're bent out of shape
If they had tongues to talk
Who knows what they would say

With a tuft of hair in each center
Punk rock piggies at their best
I decide as an after thought
To paint each Mohawk red

Told you only heaven knows
Where this was going to go
When I stopped for just a minute
To gander at my toes

That ****** me up.
That thing you said.
And then you left me
all sticky
Your slimy words in my head.

It worked.
Mission accomplished.
I am indeed
A self fulfilling prophecy.

Why is that
Heavy things flatten me out.
And when im smooshed
You can flutter about.

Ready for the swirl
Not afraid of fast, ugly, disgusting
Reality.
With the goofy grin of
Puzzled euphoria,
I rush through the tube.
Everything is on parade,
Smooshed and swirled beyond individuality or recognition.
I don't mind.
Why have preferences?
It's all getting in the <divided by zero>
Parade anyway.

I wish we were a sandwich
Simple would suffice

Smooshed between the slices
with you would be so nice

You could be my jelly
your sweet as sweet can be

I am simply nuts for you
Crunchy PB's the one for me

We go so great together
I know you feel it too

I offer you this sandwich
to show that I love you

Everyone is always trying to explain what love is

Love is nothing and everything

It is the unseen beauty that keeps life flowing

Love is the thing that builds

Heartbreak is the thing that destroys

They are not the same

Love is the look of a weary soul coming home
After a long day and wanting
Just to rest,
Believing the night has nothing left to offer
But being delivered sustenance
Followed by quiet listening
Love is playing a game to ease the pain

Cuddling to ease the weariness that consumes
Destroy weariness, for it creates doubt,

Love is sleeping beside each other,
And laughing at each other
Because each night
Someone is being smooshed  into the corner of the bed

Love is the tears of a petty fight
That erupts from jealousy
Love lurks in the fear of losing it all

Love is in hope
Whether it's only one of you
Or the both
Love is there

Love is in the idea of marriage

In the hopes it'll happen
and if it does or has that it will last forever

Love is in their eyes,
And how they try to crack a smile
Even when they feel down and depressed

Love is there

Love is here

I can never give up on such a wonderful thing

Love in the beginning

Love in the middle

Love in the end

And Love forever.

Mostly a head
With a big absorbing sensing *****
At the mouth
A great column conveys into her perceiver
And keeps moving through
The back of her head
Into a distant vanishing point
Everything is stretched and smooshed
In the yellow umbilical column
All the information from each moment
Runs down the column into her
She feeds and reads the information
Time moves for her to be nourished
With all that happens
In our world which generates the information
She consumes.

Stuffed animals and posters of Corbin Bleu
could have never prepared me for this moment.
Your hands touch me back like the pictures never could.
Your deliberate and calculated movements tell me
your experience is not just limited to teddy bears.

My arms are not as adept as yours,
not as practiced.
I have spaghetti limbs and wobbly knees.
You say I’m a fast learner but something tells me you're humoring my fumbles,
my awkward hands, and hesitant tongue.

You maneuver your frozen hands
under my Hello Kitty graphic tee.
My newly awakened ******* are firm yet flexible
like buds before a blossom.
Be gentle, the buds are fragile.

You fiddle with my zipper and reach into my daisy print *******.
These petals are not yet ready to be plucked.
Not ready to be stolen and scattered in
a game of “she loves me, she loves me not”
But I cannot seem to release
the one word that could save me.

I am quite literally petrified,
suspended in this moment like
one of those prehistoric dragonflies in amber.
My brain has called a moratorium on movement.
It waits for a moment of safety
for my wings to start beating again.

You will smoke me like one of your cigarettes.
Twisting me in your yellow fingers.
Taking drags of my innocence.
Until I am used and smooshed into the sidewalk.
I will not realize this until later.
Because I am somehow addicted to your type of nicotine.

Tears become crystallized in their ducts.
One touch could shatter me.
I plaster a smile on my face,
but even concrete crumbles.
My face shakes.
My mask falls.
The facade you wanted to **** disappears.
I am more vulnerable than I ever have been

Heart clinch
A gut pinch

Look at the screen
Can't see clear
My phone is shaking
My hands are shaking

Sounds amplified
Hearts pounds magnified

Narrow vision
And eyes that can't focus

**** I wonder if anyone noticed.

Neurons linking and multiplying till it becomes a crowd pit
Thoughts smooshed to the edge of the stage
Screaming quick solve it!

They shout and they scream in support for existential fear

Sounds amplified
Heart pounds magnified

Narrow vision
And eyes that can't focus

**** I wonder if anyone noticed

They're still talking
Walking
Chilling out smoking
It's not that big of a deal
There's nothing to fear

Just another panic attack gone
Un-noticed

Whenever I rub my eyes I always have hope in that one small chance that I could wake up to a new world

After the haze of smooshed eyelids, I just wake up in a hospital bed for the first time since a time I don’t remember

I’ll be that guy who always looks at the world through his window
Patiently waiting for the culture to cycle around to liking good music again

White skies are so bright
But we are all too cold to look up

Concrete tables at lunch
Sitting by yourself doesn’t keep your ears warm
There’s no one to listen to

Blank skies and little sprinkles of rain falling on a monotonous day

A candle in a dimly lit basement
Lighters and knives in a box under the bed

The flame bouncing to a rhythm of angsty 90s music

Today was pretty good
I didn’t have to deal with stupidity
Just my own
No drama

But then again, I am writing poems

I rearranged my furniture
Re-wicked the tea lights

Mom is going to like it a lot

I love one class
Like two more
Two are a joke
I’m indifferent to one
And failing another

First time for everything

I realize how much I like being alone
People are frustrating
Which is funny

The social butterfly
Got swallowed by a recluse
A guitar on his back
I hate singing at parties

My thoughts are a reality all their own
My own world is a net work  network of consciousness
And I always take the back roads

I’m hooked
a gateway drug to my mind
And thus I have the best fix I could imagine
Even though it’s my imagination

Music and pictures are on constant streams
Flowing through the brooks of bubbling contemplation
Flood my memory with things I’ve tattooed on my eyelids

Some creative force to just invent pictures I’ve never seen

A slideshow of things that have been more enticing than hours spent with others
I love people
I love to help them

So they like the advice
And I like to listen
Friends aren’t cheap

I guess everyone is a machine
And the engineers run maintenance on us at night time

You know he’s cheating on the local chef
By all the ****-prints in the icing

I love the outdoors
But I’ll be more likely to think to wish I had bigger windows
So I can see the sun come all the way up

A day in thought wasted in pane glass walls
Step right up!
The Man in a Glass box!
See all he has for the small fee of listening.


But I would rather put stones in my mailbox
Than throw them around at the portraits I’ve invited over for dinner

flaming darkened glazier
occult window screening
words congeal behind
soupy lettuce being

fish are always swimming
against the drizzle current
of my mindstream eddy
never rested never fluent

the cousin of the e-boy
is a flower antlered deer
he is holding smelly signs for
realistic road construction

but it all was smooshed
by the banana bus split
as it sounded around the corner
of the long lost underwater

parking garage in the bay
last level and i do mean last
very lost i tend to get lost
in there so there and there

is a bat swimming in
miracle whipped sin
at the parcel post nearby
chubby beagles munching

but bugles can't be eaten
unless you try to bite and
to see the empty
but it isn't really there

is it

wait what why

even though
you’re no longer lying beside me
face smooshed into the pillow
hiding under blankets
from the cold air outside
and even though
you’re not here to make fun of
the acting in this movie
or the taste of the popcorn
that i once again burnt
and even though
you’re not with me to save me
from the fire lit inside
and make me laugh until i’m
begging for air
i’m still sitting in this room
windows
ears
and heart
open
listening to the cars on the highway
reminding me of the
absence
you’ve left me with

Orange filled the trees
Climbing through the trellis
Rain drops kissing petals
A day of happiness
A day of rejoice

Secret eyes meet
Pick one soft
Honeysuckle
Forbidden sweet
Kissed my lips

Left empty
Smooshed on wet pavement
Stepping stepping
Many feet

I keep thinking about how
It felt like
You
And
Me.