stalks

poetry

they can’t even hear you
through the smoke and the
corn stalks
your stuck here
building walls out of
cd covers and garbage ideas
to hide your private stash
of different colored needles,
empty kool-aid packets,
and dead bugs
with your head in the clouds
screaming.

corn

poetry

walking around the garbage bins
i knew i was gonna find you here
lamping in the dim moon light
with street lamps and alley cats
i still pretend it’s on my way to
work and you still pretend like
your not gonna stay long
looking all confused and lost
and i hear rumor you left,
moved to a darker part of town
where the churches fall down
with all that fire on the ground
without all my unsent mixtapes

day with dad

poetry

headphones and busses to places
i fear will tower over me due to
buildings so tall i nearly fall over
looking up at the sky seeing ferris wheels
from wooden benches in parks bearing
elderly women practicing kungfu while
clapping together spoons of wood with ever
step taken in the direction of the man
made wet lands of frog leaping lilly pad
mosquito breeding grounds placed
voluntarily by morons counting pennies
per day as they poor cement and hope
led to finally finding the cigar my lips
craved and cherished the taste through
all three walking past ponds elsewhere
in the town taking pictures of the grass
so green it could be played on if it weren’t
covered in manure actually made by man

things, other

poetry

drifting and drowsy while drifting and
driving is nifty when thousands of
soldiers are dying and digging their
dicks in the ground all around
sing a song where a frown turn this
world upside down with a phrase one
of change one of might one so sound
built on drifting while driving and
drinking ’till drowned —
till my stinking silk skin turns
to soil in the ground and my soul goes
up and up and up and around just like
satellites or mediorites or
merry-go-rounds like the things that you
see at night when no light will come
’round like the silliest sincerity you
could try to compound and package and
sell for just cents by the pound.

The Odyssey For My Self

poetry

How I try to perceive you
How deep down must I look
How long must I search for you
How treacherous are the waters that I must cross
*
How many calls must I make
Of joy and love
Of sadness and fear
Before you hearken to my words
*
How may I examine myself
Without an inner eye through which to look
How many errors must be made
Before one can tear down their guise
*
How many breaths of air will I take
Before I breathe in you
How many mornings shall I awake
Before I know the name of you
*
What is a heart without a voice
What is a mind without a soul
What is a body without an essence
What is a man without a goal
*
How much pain must I suffer
Of myself and this earthly plane
How much fear must I survive
Before the judgment of our name
*
How many triumphs must I take
And walk away with tears for the defeated
How many defeats must I claim as my own
And still gait away with dignity
*
You are the essence of my being
You are the thought that makes me real
You are the desires of the heart
You are the ghost within my shell