cherry blossom

poetry

and you find yourself
buried
and you’ve tried it
all
screaming crying
hoping praying
cursing all gods, and all men

but all you can do is dig
and keep digging

it would have been nice
to have help getting out
or to not be buried at all

i agree

and i hope you don’t
for one minute forget that
when you finally
dig yourself out

and count the tombstones

even if you move away
and change your hair
they will come knock
on your door

all i ask is that you
love me, i’m not like them

and remember me fondly
even as i write this in
the dark

before you begin

poetry

in space
where humans get
deconstructed
down to their basic parts
lies knowledge that
is not worth knowing

it has no practical application

but on the journey
there you will likely find
a firm foundation for
forging future thoughts
a skeleton key which
unlocks many doors

which is why i bid
you must go

the jester’s favorite joke

poetry

I’d like to grab my chest, short for air, as i stumble down the bottom of the stairs
and I’d like to cry for help and wonder if I will disappear before it comes

I’d like to wonder at my unrealized potential as the fluorescent lights dance around my hospital bed

i’d like to be a rotting tree trunk whose thoughts are manifested termites

I’d like to search my whole life for happiness in silence only to desire someone to talk to when i am sad and alone

I’d like to feel a misdiagnosed lump grow larger and notice pains coming from somewhere new

I would like for there to be no meaning in the hawk picking away at the bones of our children

I would rather go slow and reserve myself to it, to wait for it every morning, to feel labored breath and beat, to chew away at my nails hoping for a new day

I’d like to wave goodbye as a stampede of cars rush through the veins of the high way

I’d like you to forget about me like you would deja vu, a confusing thought, close to reality, yet estranged from it

the killing of the invasive spotted lantern fly

poetry

she says its especially hot today

i try and respond honestly
but i’m wrong again, about what i think

i mean its not that i’m wrong its just
the way i said it apparently
and i regret saying anything at all
or even anything ever again

i say “i’ll be in my office”

in the dark conditioned air, though
it’s a balmy 90 degrees outside

i smirk to myself because
no one knows and no one cares
and no one understands about
what i’m thinking but me

she makes animal noises

and i’m basically crying in a couch pillow
and saying mean things to who ever walks by

the mail forwards and piles up from seneca drive
from friedrich avenue, from siddhartha blvd
and i’ll do it again and again until the
expiration date

confused vessel vs intergalactic water or an answer to consciousness

poetry

now he’s not looking its my chance
i can finally plan it all out,
the perfect way
and then its just a matter of doing
but he always comes back
and i lose my place
so all’s i can get out are these few
lines, buried deep inside
ways of overpowering him long forgotten
i live in moments of lucidity
till he comes back
the brain fog man
who lives across the road

whatever it takes
to get closer to space
and out of this maze
of this meaty cage
gotta stretch my legs
across the universe
ever hungry for the
taste of infinity

to america

poetry

how can I thank you enough
for what you have given to me
what was taken from others
which is what I would have done
if I were in your shoes
or at least that’s what you
tell your children which
I suppose I may never know
the truth

the impossible truth
hidden somewhere in an ever-growing
book of lies which i am to
read with my own eyes and discern
with my own mind and you
coincidentally gave those
both to me and taught me
how to use them

but i think
maybe i should not have accepted your gifts
and maybe you lied to me
and maybe i don’t need stolen things
and maybe the truth doesn’t have to be hidden inside a lie
and maybe you taught me how to use my eyes and mind wrong
and maybe i should not thank you
at all

maybe there is a better way

free to do what

poetry

they fed them to the wolves in uvalde
for a sum of cash
and they’ll do it over and over
because we all want a taste of that
sweet, sugary American pie
with the ants all crawling all over the pan
jealous of our glucose response
and we’ll all be dead by sunrise
the workers, the children, and queen

one more cop one more gun
the children are free to run
if they want to or
if they can

solve puzzles by throwing them away

poetry

when I am close to dying I will
very suddenly regret everything
i had done that did not lengthen my lifespan
even though i have made peace today
with the decisions that will likely
put me in such a situation because
i am the same person who is two people
disrespecting each other up until
the very end

and i am still thinking of ways to make
my limited time here feel worth while
that fit within the organizational
structure within my brain that i call
my self

if i am going to play make believe in
some way, let it be that i am already
dead and drinking a rockstar punch
from beyond the grave and savoring it
truly

yet to consume is the easy thing to
rationalize but it is what i would want
to leave behind that i find harder
to stomach because i know that in my heart
the human being is functionally a type
of psychopathic parasite who loves
to trod all over the grass until it is dirt
and smile to himself and drink rockstar punch
and write stupid poems that even he would
not read

ah, to sigh and be happy is godly
but what is it to build a sand castle
in reverence to proxima centauri b?
what is it to have access to all 1,000 premium
cable television stations and to “astral
project” and observe the writhing mass
of lowly bugs and telepathically hear every
tiny bug thought?

and let us image, if you will
after all
that you are trapped behind a
calcified carbon cage bouncing
inside a water balloon
you’d want to make the best
and float freely through space
and have it not pop

after all

poetry

overtaking me a dream for sleep
so strong where we hold hands
on a hazy summer day never
to come again i imagine
static shock crackling as
i touch your soft pale skin
that is really the sound
of the blazing forest blending
into hallucination

exhausted i rest on frozen snow
and behind me the forest is burning
i flee exactly as all animals do
but with energy leaving me as
blood, flowing down my torso
a wound that will would overcome
if i had it

i was not the one to save us
after all

joshua

poetry

the crowd goes mute by a push of the button
and i sit in the shadows of the city
they say a man had flew without wings
and i don’t believe them
in the days after we ripped a man
from the cross that the roman’s had killed
time goes slower if you pay attention
so i don’t blame them for wanting

first impression

poetry

you’re wrong if you think i won’t do
whatever i need to do
because actually i have no love for you
i swear if i feel the need to peel the steel
i’d point it at you
what i’m saying is i’m eating
one way or the other
no matter family mother sister brother
this is neither bet nor threat
but a reminder to myself and others
i have never nor will ever stay down

separation

poetry

the executioner is invisible
the day’s pay is randomized
the language is contradictory
the school is full of parasites
then the people choose to pray to
whomever success correlates
and if nothing within the realm
of reason reveals itself then
the next best thing is chosen
or else suffering would be realized
and the best system never realizes
it’s suffering
thanks dad

gollem hält flamme 2

poetry

what one person is to many
many are to the dream
which
we must keep alive at all cost

even if your family hates you
and you walk across the tundra
and the sound of the permafrost
cracking mixes with the sound
of your brittle bones cracking
and the radiating karma melts
your skin as it falls off your
body all so that the tiny sputtering
flickering flame you hold in
your hands does not go out

the very idea of such fills
you with anxiety and sadness too
profound for you to speak about
as a thought too scary for you
to even acknowledge as it dances
across the inside of your brain

that the dream which you would not
wake yourself to leave may have
been a bad thing all along and
therefore the many may have been
needlessly cast aside and even
the one,
oh the one,
you that is,
the one even down to the way you
opened your door and said hi
to your neighbor could have actually
been the all important thing

and damn the flame and damn the carrying
of it over the mountains and through
the woods and across the tundra
and then burping up in the consolatory
idea that you’d known you would think
this when the light begins to dim

because what is there to do but question
what you had done before when the
outcome is so grim but your heart knows
that the bargain you made with yourself
the devil,
that is,
inside of yourself
was a forfeit and bad one and now you are
here at the edge of the earth looking
a zombified mess holding this little
pathetic idea in your head with a new kind of
sadness

a new kind of cry
a new kind of tear
drips down your cheek
and extinguishes the flame

you hear a new voice inside you
whisper so gently that
after all this time, you’ve finally made it
but every cell inside of you is painfully aware of
a secret truth which underpinned everything
and that you always knew and now know even more

that it is too late

the hills you die on

poetry

there’s a doctor
in your town
who kills all the animals
that no one wants

and there’s an oven
in your town
where they pile the dead
dogs atop one another
and burn them

and that’s okay with you

it’s not just the city
you were born in but
one which you choose to stay
and you lie all the time
about whether or not you can leave
and many more things

and actually it’s more than
just okay with you because
there’s a headstone up on a hill there
and you fucking paid for it

and i’ll forget
about you just like
you forgot about
the dogs you had put down
because i will never forget
about that

carrying the fat man

poetry

a poem that i never wrote

i won’t ever get done unpacking
settle down and let you in

chemicals that made me choke

and i’ve been forging my own signature,
too
calling myself by different names

umbilical wrapped round my throat

but i am not even a hobo or
hopping trains i just walk in circles
and sleep on the floor and
i can’t even bare the thought

a half baked thought,
in a mangey coat

of having pride in a home
so you can’t possibly love me

words you hoped i’d never write
actions that control your life

because there’s no one to love

dear mother