as self pity is one of the most disgusting forms of the sin of sins. pride. and you revel in it in new ways bringing insight, innovation, and a general new interest in the subject from the public. yea. i’m talking about you who re-invented the color black because hanging your head seemed too mundane to be taken seriously by those who effing should feel sorry for you.

yea my fingers ache to write
and i’ve lined my computer up
just perfectly with the right
software and setup to be what
i imagine could be called productive.

oh and my book topic is complete
even the ideas are relatively well
formed and outlined in my head.
sure a few minutes of mapping it
out might be useful to the process.

and it doesn’t matter what they say
i type WAY faster than i could possibly
spit this thing out in longhand even
with the constant distractions in the
background vying for my attention.

and though the motivation knocks
at the door every few hours i have
yet to pull the trigger. rather i keep
the book within the crosshairs and know

i simply cannot fail until the first
sentence is formed of absolute vomit
and i re-read and give up hope in my
unrealized vanity.

fall clouds
my grey
filled mind
knowing they
thought the
sun far
different from
a star
for many
many years
before anyone
knew the
two were
one in
the same

when you’re sanitizing your hands
in favor of rubbed-hair-free knees
and slouching in lay-z-boys
in lieu of pumping iron

when you choose low fat
over tried and true butter.

they can claim your focus in life was worthwhile
after all you made millions by the time you were
twenty two.

but really? you gave individual names to collectable
stuffed animals. and you can sleep with yourself at
night?

i’ll tell you this. i cannot sleep with yourself. nope.
not a bit.

and who doesn’t like millions of dollars? not me.
i don’t not like millions of dollars.

and you’re pretty worthless in a fight.
needless to say i wouldn’t worship you.

his god is money which is pretty to hold
and great in an Apple store but his god
cant fart. i’m pretty sure i dont want to
bow down to a god that cant even fart.
a god that has never experienced the feeling
of having run slightly too far and slightly
too soon after a meal and then had to stop
(a pause really) just long enough to make
sure the air that passes between the cheeks
will be fully dry.

if your god cant hold his liquor – rethink him.
if your god cant chew gum and walk at the
same time then what you live for is lame.
worse than a woman.

a love for theory ate away my ability
to problem solve into obscurity the
needs of your complexity

i settled instead for a lack of love of
the art you paint and while gazing
lustfully into an unplanned opus of
the written word created by a hand
a hundred years ago on soil near
to that which my cushioned chair
upon cement block is bolted into
the ground upon

my mind now occupied with concepts
and dreams of scenarios played out
in my imagination to solve problems
instead of paint pictures. with words.
like i used to.

surrounded for miles
on both sides by cement
you ducks have come
from afar to inhabit
this bread-crumb infested water

for your standards have been irrevocably ruined

where we soaked in pools of poo
for lack anything else to do
and you told of how your wife said
“i love you”
much too soon.

there was a mcdonalds there
and a grocery store too.
where we so soaked in pools of poo
for lack of much else to do.

but beer on tap can be be redemptive too.

writing using words
folks far superior to me i know it’s hard to imagine
to request in clear but big words
details with the same hands that write poetry
about programs for which it’s highly unlikely i’m qualified
for further education you’d think i’d quit at some point
and hoping against hope
for acceptance when this same writer is rejected from just about everything
or at least and the least really isn’t too little to ask
for patience a seldom recognized saintly gift
in understanding clear communication is for writers of prose

ceaseless pounding of flesh
against the ground as i beat my body into submission
bloody nipples the only casualty

it is i who lacks self control
it is i who needs self control
but how do i control myself
when control is exactly what i lack?
here’s to hoping for help
from the outside.

the vine produces grape
with or without a maker of wine.
the question is
are said grapes grub free?

yes i think highly of myself
i’m told it means i was raised in a healthy family
parents who loved me
probably more than yours loved you.
oh i dont mean that to sound harsh
but i’m good looking
smarter than most
probably smarter than you if i put my mind to it
but the truth is
i’m not insecure enough to need to prove myself.

you see i’m pretty grand with people
folks tend to laugh at my jokes
and while i can be overwhelming at times
it’s probably just your own insecurities
which are improperly responding to my self asurances.

i run faster and farther than just about everyone
around
i could probably win the boston marathon tomorrow
if i chose to enter
but i dont need to prove to myself my ability running
unless you need me to prove it to you.
even then its unlikely i’ll enter
looking this good in a running leotard
would only intimidate the really good competition
taking away a lot of the fun

you’ll see with less work that i’m brighter
i’ll show in a shorter time that i’m wiser
that i know more
that i live better
that there is no confidence i lack.

you’ll see in no time i’m the best damn thing there ever
was.

and though you’ll probably feel envy
dont be embarrassed
that’s normal around me.

—–

these thoughts would be less embarrassing if any
were pulled from the air instead of my mind.
yes, i know a thing or two about pride. but i dont know
where to begin -i’m utterly lost in my search of
true humility

i’d sing in the bathtub
or a ridiculously large
comfortable
shower with a nice
‘rain’ setting
and enjoy cigars while
soaking in pools
up to my neck
as i read, and sleep,
read, sleep, and occasionally
break for meals
of an absurdly tasty assortment
probably with a beer each time.

there’d be sports. thats for certain.
i’d probably take on a few new ones
as football is only weekly and for nearly
half of the year they rest.
i’d need baseball and basketball to fill
the nights.

perhaps i could watch it on a waterproof screen
while i sing.
in my bathtub or absurdly large
shower
with a nice
‘rain’ setting

of good things like the gospel
and humility they say
it will flatten you
bringing you lower than low
till you look up and see everyone
above you.
even those below you.
and you peel yourself off the floor

wondering where to go from the
lowest of the low

Lilly pads on the lake bring out the hopelessness
I knew I was seeing in your posture on that bench.

You sit beside and watch the moss grow
instead of the fish swim.

And I know you’ll be here a while.

roaches run on dusty counter tops
fleeing the light i shine at them in my
perfect paradise of a home on the third floor
of my in a thirteen story building

you look for things you know hope you can do
seeking definition in your action
but alas
“homemade roach motels”
seems like a niche already spoken for.