visions of clean pillows
stacked behind me so should
i fall
it arches perfectly back
spine, shoulders, neck, and head
to the soft landing
my dreams keep leaving out
Month: October 2008
Is it the osh
or the dissapointment
bubling and gurgling,
stirring within
threatening to come up?
And I hope the osh will
because perhaps in that
meaningless action
I can show my solidarity
in a meaningful way.
With my apologies for my long absences from the sieve
poetryI keep coming and going,
entering and exiting,
writing and avoiding,
wondering who’s to blame
besides my own priorities.
this asphyxiated night sky
poetryevery night there seems
one less star
in this
asphyxiated
nig
ht
s
k
y
.
i miss the lil’ guy
poetrytiny little guy was he
tiny little guy he was
he would
run and play and topple over
as though his floppy ears
were too heavy for his body
cute little pup he was
pee a lot did he
quickly
faithfully
rightfully
earning the name
mommy’s little
piss-squeak
tanka
poetryputting on my shirt
the scent of last night lingers
smoke from the fire pit
around which we all gathered
revealing our thoughts and lives.
artificial light
poetrythey’re eating you up
piece by piece
those people in your head
(the only ones left to
talk to)
are eating you up
and when they finally let
all the artificial light back in
you know it wont make
you see any better
you know it wont make
you feel any better
and the icicles on what
used to be the sun
hang so low you try
to jump to knock them
down but it’s hundreds
of feet up
the sky is ugly from the
street lights
you feel ugly from the
street lights
and right before they take
the last few bites
those people in your head
(the only ones left to
talk to)
laugh as the incandescent
rays freeze your face.
if i ever write a poem about Cruella de Vil this may be what it says. but we won’t know for sure until i do
poetryblue and golden brown
to be the touch of new
in your otherwise decadent
beehive hair
the home of your frost bitten
heart
Evolution of the Nature of Man
poetryThe Hemorrhaging Eye
A star among evil
Stares your judgment down
Into the damp, dark basement
The Deceitful Air
A shroud of prevarication
Chokes your judgment until it falls
Into a catatonic state
The Debauching Tongue
A prostitute of consternation
Seduces your judgment with power
Leaving it disarrayed on the dusty earth
the chains he made holding us down
poetryall of the blood was surely
pumping when my black knight
woke me under what was always
a full moon to sing me gothic
lullaby’s and take me wanting
into his lair under the dirt
where we would crush everything
in our paths
always i would wake in the
aftermath confused and lost,
my most precious belongings
scattered around my room,
and parts of me broken and
bruised and ashamed and i
would wait for another bright
moon never more prepared.
standing all day from 8 to 5 because i’m too young for my body to hurt this bad
poetrysnap crackle pop
neck back knees
garden
poetryno one knows the things
i stole from the garden
how i used to ride the
sunrise every morning
until the plants grew right
into my mouth…
…so i ran out
leaving a clear man-sized
hole in the foliage
where the lumberjacks
would soon follow
walking home
poetrya gust of
wind sets the
leaves above
rustling while below
the syncopated
scrape of
concrete.
yesterday
poetrythorns pressing up, out
from beneath the skin
death the new
birth to the old
gnashing teeth of stinging bees
raging war on the poor
the hated
the wounded
the raped and
cards tossed from hand to roof
cigarettes marijuana speed heroin crack
to wash it all away
that open wound
puss and then
one more limb to fall off
ripping open like a bag of lays
and there is absolutely nothing i can do
better than you
The world ablaze
poetryThe webs we wove to ward off wondering wanderers wanting what was withheld by one wondrous machine now wore off, waning with the wind, wasting with the weeks, weakened by the wrestlessness of a wretched mind. Yet I perservere, through the tireless and ceaseless ticks of the clock, every clock, bent on my destruction and the eventual fizzling out of my fire. Lit with the intent of burning you all.
listless (a haik)
poetryi shopped but found not
the things i failed to remember
my wife wanted bought
upon revisiting
poetryi took new roads back to that
old motel and i took a fresh
look at all the dead dead things
and stood there, not touching a
thing
not touching any of their bodies
i just stood with the flies around
my face and i think i may have even
smiled at the evil of it
nobody lives by the river anymore
and she waits there as the travelers
pass her by
offering that nutrition that man
has indefinitely replaced
and she’s bottled
and sold in the stores but nobody
goes to visit her
not anymore
so when i saw their skin piled upon
muscle upon bone i thought why not
and, years later when i revisit
the old motel that no one much goes
in anymore (either) i try to remember
the smell of the rot of them all
so as to remember when i smell it again.
Community
poetryWho are my people
Who are G-D’s people
I am one of G-D’s people
and All people are my people
so All people are G-D’s people
I am no king
but A mere peasant
A follower of G-D
No one rules but G-D
My people are my equals
My people are my superiors
and I shall NEVER claim
That ANY person is my inferior
Code
poetryTo live for G-D, to love for G-D
To associate with G-D, to communicate with G-D
To find settlement where dwells G-D
To live for our fellows as we do for G-D
To share each of our triumphs, and to share each others’ defeats
To lift their burdens, as G-D removes ours
To count our blessings-earthly and divine-
and To give and not to count the cost
To understand the sublime nirvana
but To not only strive on account of this goal
but To simply follow the will of G-D
and it used to come so naturally
poetrydigging through these stuffy
drawers for
an oil or canvas
of innuendo
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