feelings

April 6, 2014

you just want to fall down wherever you like you think the tears from your bruised knee should stop traffic you think fair for you is fair for everyone you think your mental boulders are real you think it makes me cold-hearted that i think you’re wrong you are crushed beneath the weight of a boulder and you are lying there with no strength to lift it you will spend hours wondering whether your time being offended at other people’s lifestyles helped you in any way move that boulder but it has no feelings to manipulate and you are powerless to move the objective things with no subjective ones around you are an individual worm who all along felt it was more.

what should i say?

February 12, 2014

i understand the river
of thought and learn
to breath among the
creatures of the riverbed

i speak but the words
get carried away
back down the curvature
of the giant sphere

i add my own water
to the stream but it
seems a pointless
endeavour

it becomes foreign
immediately
just like my reflection,
the morning after

one thing remains true:
that i cannot breath
in this land
of fish and mossy rocks

i feel freer with
my feet hovering just
inches above the ground
and drier, too.

the wolf on raymond st

January 27, 2014

on raymond there is no
game to hunt

like chess you must
stay moves ahead

starvation cannot
get to you

if the families on raymond
push you out

just like any game
you make a move

and stay three
steps ahead

to win or otherwise
topple the king.

beware and forge ahead

January 21, 2014

beware, and forge
ahead
with the youth in
your heart
the things that lie
behind you
now plain to see
and in front
so blurred

beware, and more
importantly:
forge ahead
and learn to love
the confusion of
today
without hesitation
between footsteps

she hid him beneath her bed

January 18, 2014

if i could only write one good
poem
it would be about when we went
south
and the humidity of
the middle part
of alabama

how it did fog up
my glasses in
just seconds

it would be about how i felt like
a stowaway
the whole time i knew you
a small puppy hidden under
your bed
and when we got to golf shores
i felt the foreboding of
being set free
by your sullen parents

in this, the best of my poems
i would remember and in detail
explain the last moment we
spoke
in person
but only the beach remains
that
sunbleached afternoon
walking barefoot and
the new freckles
i would fall between

and i would end the poem
very poignantly
and much before i spent a week
at my grandmother’s
in ocala
far from home
vomiting out religiously
all the sickness i had
endured.

a frozen ghost

January 10, 2014

i spent night
with my aching past
t’ward the poorly
lit 31st street

it’s been so long since
i spent time in that world
we built ourselves

i wait, breathless
to hear the whispers
of only 17

i am a ghost in this
world
and to stay too long would
freeze me
have i been on this couch
before?
with the record player on
the shelf
reclined, afront a vinyl
big-screen
you nuzzle your freckles against
my skinny
frame
did we watch the movie flubber?

was it cold like this,
back then?
i wasn’t
disappearing.

of that i am
certain.

the lights were
still on the music
still loud when you
ran crying into the
cold night

the sand ate up
your steps and
when you met the
sea it was so cold,
and so uninviting

what did you expect?

maybe a caring and
warm omnipotent
cloud whose womb
you would climb inside
of and wish it all away

yet the air outside
the wedding tent was cold
as was the water that
lept at your toes
as you stood backwards

let go
fall into
the ocean
wait for
the dj to
stop alltogether
and the
party to
come for
you

drift into
the icey
ocean of
your feelings
and your
ambitions and
your perfect
universe never
to be

or, don’t you have the balls?
or, walk back to the tent
let the sand eat your steps
wipe the salt water off your face
and toast the happy couple.

masturbating to pornography

December 17, 2013

it is dark she smiles at me shyly i stand up unzip my pants she sits on a couch i won’t let her speak i want no one in my house to hear her

her skin covers her
fat cells
that are
proportioned perfectly over her delicate bone structure and to me she is a vision of beauty and she stares at me like i am a million gaping mouths and i am hard for her in the dark silence of my bedroom

everything goes down perfectly
she strips slowly and takes time
pleasing me and when i finally
get into her it is pure euphoria

just like i imagined
just like she wanted

when it ends the silence floods back in and i pull up my pants up as she revels in semen

her name is candy bar or something
she won’t tell me her real name
she puts her clothes on and smiles at me again
this time her smile makes me sad she is leaving with money and doesn’t want to know my name, either
when i turn off the computer screen we will be strangers once again

i don’t know why i feel this way but i know she wants me to
i don’t know why i want her to stay
i don’t understand
like how bugs are attracted to lightbulbs
but sometimes they are designed to destroy.

this is for the ones
i left unfinished:

fuck you anyway
i hope you are waiting
and shivering at an
abandoned bus stop
waiting
mouth full of cotton
i hope you grow real
legs
just as the sun sets
i hope you walk to
cedar
and put one in my dome
while i’m sleeping
peacefully

and then it will be
fuck me,
then.

many good men set out
on that raft
with good ideas, in their hearts
and yet the waves cared not
for the goodness

only humans consider
or falter

and the waves were ceaseless
and goodness was no
substitute 
for craftsmanship.

if i could live
16 again
i would meet you
in the open field
with your boys
at 2 or 3 am
and knowing then
what i know now
i would close my
laptop lid
and walk miles
in the cold country
darkness and
fight you with
everything i had

even if your boys
came in, as i
had feared
and stomped me
to pulp
i would lie my
bloodied face
on the thick,
dew covered grass
of my hometown
and laugh a crazy laugh
and spit the blood
out and laugh

and if you didn’t
kill me,
i would be better
for that

maybe better, some
how
than i am today

maybe i wouldn’t shake
or worry so much
maybe i’d be a better
man.

on josh at harvey’s

October 10, 2013

josh said “what?” to himself
dipped in disgust as we
crossed the boulevard

sometimes i use my body
to play with the universe

josh was disgruntled with
that,
as some can be,
raised in a modern
anal retentive middle
white class up-
getting

that too is the murky
gene pool i awoke in

josh would talk freer
and more openly with me
when i used my body
to play a human-being

just like at my job where
i tickle change from pockets

that night and through
alcohol he would forget
even more that i was actually
light newly freed from the
sun talking his language
and reminscing on
being human

and i like having friends
because,
it multiplies the
positivity

krokodil

October 5, 2013

i first heard your name the
winter of my returning home

you were the promise of respite,
a gentle wave lapping on the shore

your words were hyperbole and
placeholders for others and
you said i didn’t have to stay
or that you could go and

some years later it is finally
the morning after
the waves are garbage trucks
the sunlight is acidic
and my arm is rotting
from the paths you traveled,
krokodil

do something

October 4, 2013

the door is closed
i lie in a sugary filth
i dream of international politics
yet
the possibilities remain unheeded
the apathy in the air
fossilizes the skin

do something different
than you’ve done before
maybe it won’t leave you
empty and hungry
and lying in a cheap
sugary filth

do something or you
will be frozen in
time,
gasping for breath
with stone lungs whose
efficiency is massively
degraded

do something at all and
push a wave into the
maddening ocean and
try not to cringe
when it comes back
changed by the distance
and its intent foreign

do something so they all
stop staring.

shining the boots of the
devil taught me how

to hold my tongue and
understand
that
perception is relative

and babes to the trail
we all are

and the wind is at
our fronts

i have compassion for
the honest ones
yet we are all
alone.

why do i always forget?

September 9, 2013

why do i always forget?
things are for keeping
as garbage they damage
and take so long to disappear
so if you have a thing
you should stop
every once and a while
and touch it and look at it
so you don’t needlessly replace it
society will build to your demand
they profit from your idle things
and then hide the garbage away
so it looks like it disappears
and your life is a revolving door
of things that have no
significance and can disappear,
conveniently
but that is not the case
they are long to disappear
and you should use and cherish
things
one day you might miss them
like a love
replaced with something

similar.

the social vulture circles
livingrooms like the mojave
waiting for the inevitable
dead sentence to expire
and to swoop down and
put their hungry hearts to
devouring

old songs

August 21, 2013

my life in memory

is beautiful and eternal

it includes

dramatic retellings

and for moments in real-time

i can spend years in the past

and all the people

whom i’ve torn apart

are there in whole

we never waste time to catch up

and we just pretend like nothing

ever changed.

in cairo

August 18, 2013

in cairo they throw
rocks in the streets
and are stacking bodies
to rig the death count
to get the air time
and off the cement bullets
ricochet with the words
allah akhbar
young men hurl themselves
towards the crackling streets
looking up at red sky
hoping today is the day
and i hope there is something
for them there
i hope they get lifted off
the streets of cairo in some
bright, elegent light
and horns will play heavenly tunes
while their brothers
pose for the camera
screaming “allah akhbar”
and loosely bandage
the marytrd wounded
with his eyes glazing over
i hope he is floating with
the virgins and his dead
relatives in peaceful content
forever-bliss
and there are no stones to throw
and you will not have to say
anything
and they will write your name among
the dead with an emphasis and
the young souls will look to yours
in awe and say “I want to
go his way:
on a street-corner
for the cameras
as a hail-mary pass.”

by chris flach

August 13, 2013

Summer how
i will miss you when
you’re gone. When fall
comes around i have a few
less things to say.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 302 other followers