i am alone and reading no one
which is dangerous, i know
but i’m training my mind
to see different wave lengths
(you’d be surprised at how
different everything looks)
and i don’t know it all, i know
but it’s hard to talk with whom
i know i will not be heard
and my heart is so full of hatred
that i can barely stomach
making sense of what others say
even in their big fat fancy books
wherein it is presupposed
that they’ve trained their minds
to see every different wave length
but i find more often than not
that they are lying
(you’d be surprised at how
mad they get)
so i am alone and reading no one
and not talking or being listened to
but i do not know what i will do
with what i see, once i’ve
trained my mind to see every
potential different wave length
(i will be surprised if
it is even possible)
for i am too soft to strike at the heart
for fear of the hoof
and i am too lazy to take a stand
for fear of failed expectations, and legacy
and what started out as a good idea
or the right thing to do
is now a baseless dream, and pointless exercise
and appears as a silly lonely man
reading no one and talking in circles
staring, unfocused
burdened by the knowledge of the inherent
lightness of being
writing long, rambling poems that follow no
pentameter or scheme
and the loneliness in this process
reminds me of the loneliness of death
which is preeminently uncommunicable
and unshareable
which is not what i set out for and
feels not happy, or good
or productive
and i am alone with the knowledge that i set out to find
and no one can tell or cares much its existence
alas
Author: David X. Hugo
March 27th, 2025
poetrywould it be better that they found your
decomposing corpse several miles off trail
on accident, long after the manhunt canceled
than for you to hang on to the coattails
of this massive morass of meat machines marching
to the tick of the time-clock?
have you made a big mistake
looking for yourself
rather than simply being
what is already there?
among the list of crimes
that you help commit
is making March 27th, 2025
another insanely unremarkable day
why, you’ve forgotten, that they’re
all supposed to be
very important
a day that could be perfectly heavenly
now put through your fatty system
and out the other end, like fertilizer
on a factory farm
for what you incorrectly define
as happiness
if time could travel backwards part 9
poetryi worked on the computer all day
while she sang opera
i had 3 cats who i treated like children
i drove a 2014 toyota rav 4
i want to go back i want to go back
there was love in the house at all times
like being alone and together at the same time
we practically radiated love
as if you could see it in the air
i want to go back
i want to go back i
want to go back
even if i would get distracted
or angry about something
it was like playing pretend
because we were always safe, together
completely safe and comfortable
comfortable and how we would touch
as a family would, a deep kinship
and consistent like how a clock works
how i want to go back
i want to go back
i want to go back, i want to go back
i want to go back
i want
to go
back
i want to go back
i even knew then, that i’d want to go back
it only gets worse from here
it only got worse from there
from then on
it only got worse
and i would want to go back
i was making enough money to keep them off my back
she was doing what she loved
and we loved each other
i am certain of it
and it’s a time that can only happen once
you’ve got a narrow window to not fuck it up
and if you don’t fuck it up, anyway
it will get worse
and you will want to go back
you’ll want to go back
you’ll want to go back want to go back
want to go back
want to go
back
to subtle purrs and snoring and a clicking ceiling fan as the saturday morning sun peaks through the window
and you eat german breakfast while staring out the window as the world just flashes by you like a montage
until you look back and it becomes different, somehow
any, how
and you’re going to want to do it all over again
you’re going to wish you could go back
and do something different
be better somehow
breathe deeper somehow
chew slower
think deeper
kiss longer
somehow
you’re going to want to go back
and that’s the one thing you cannot do
i am already dead
poetryi am eating shit and
drinking piss
at the encore hotel and casino
and i hear someone
screaming, in the distance
but i don’t care and
i won’t go looking for them
because i’m a lazy killer
it could take me a lifetime
and blame lies with the beholder
a loneli ness
poetrysounds of bugs and birds chirping
as the sounds of plants growing
look for food until
you get tired
look for sleep until
you fall into it
thoughts chattering in the meantime
whether your imagination lives in the ancient language of metaphor
or not
whether superpositioned wormholes allow for space travel
or not
it does not matter
there is nothing
for you
to do
riptide man
poetrytorn out to sea
on a lazy sunday
didn’t heed the warning
a fine swimmer, or not
he couldn’t fight the ocean
alone
A Wish
poetryEverywhere you are
Is paradise
Every breath you take
We take together
Every dream with you in it
Is a wish
Every moment with you
Is forever
I will be here with you
As long as I am alive
And always I will keep you
In my heart and in my mind
Every day a wish fulfilled
america
poetryi thank sc johnson
for the clean smelling shirt
as i fly over the yellow sea
with munitions to erase
the human mind
and lucky me that
my prayers kept the cancer
(colon, esophageal, pancreatic, et al)
at bay, long enough
and at least for these few more hours
to reflect on where
romance lives, far away
probably, with the pain
that started all of this
basest creatures
poetryname it and give it rules
so that in the future you can replicate
something similar, but not the same
a soulless and shallow masked figure
with just you underneath
you
you you you
reify, hyperbolize, generalize
trick your god into believing
that you love him
so you can make it a part of
you
you you you
i am driven but not driving
poetryi am driven by something foreign
like an alien-human body
stumbling around target
i am driven by a 2.5 litre 4-cylinder
engine made by toyota across
a bridge built in the early 1960s
where it smells like death
when the air gets stale
next to the garbage plant
of course it does
of course it does
dead dinosaur bones pile up
by the side of the road
and no one picks them up
i yearn for northern michigan
poetrywhen I was younger
and a wild oat
roaming freely
I could sit on air
and watch the sunset
without sorrow
and spend all day staring
out a window taken
from wood not far from here
as a lowly bug biting with
compassion and not trading
stocks in silence or attention
irrespective
poetrybounce back
piss on my pants
cherry hill new jersey
amc
where desperate birds chirp
at night
conflicting visions not unto me
we all seem to know that
every sad thing is happening
all the time
irrespective
a final act of floundering greatly
poetryif i knew
what shallow pools i swam
what otherwise,
a sunny day i
would forever love
yet after god had
banished me
for months without rain
i find myself dying,
here
and shallow still
are their eyes
as i lie gasping for air,
even
they are uneasy to stay
because the school moves on
it is hard for those
who are fleeting
and flittering away
wasting away
and not resting, at all
not resting even a bit
to not see the last
moments as the longest
and their closests friends
more greatly scared to share them
than their love extends
because the school
moves on
hospice
poetrythe cat birds have moved on without me
of course
now replaced by the house finch
i’d hoped to be here waiting
alive still, with the oak tree
whatever shape we were both in
but i sense the inevitable
snapping back of the rubber band of time
closer, now
can i make peace with them going on
without me?
if for no other reason than
to make myself feel better
as is all that man, and cat birds, and house finches,
and all we can all ever do
riding the back of some big thing
smiling
scared
excited
crying
ourobrotherbrorealis
poetrythe underbelly of the crushing
machine is a beautiful red
from the blood of its enemies
as the miasmic soup of reasons
that people stand in the way
are mixed together with the cacophony
of screams just like their bones and
blood and reasons are mixed together
creating the beautiful red
oh brother, brother
aurora borealis
ouroboros
a leaf, exactly
poetryi receive the cat birds that frequent the oak
tree in the alley between greylock
and 49th as friends although i am
not theirs, and can never be
their friend is the flimsy oak
which stretches and groans with
every new perch
because it is dying
and the city is killing it
which is my city
my every greeting falls on deaf ears
not only because we don’t speak
the same language but also
the big city birds don’t have
the same fondness for the people
of the city as they do in the country
the city is killing everything
they love
i am lucky they do not
attack me
and it goes on and on like this
my romantic and naive love
blowing away in the cold january wind
exactly like a leaf
the colored circles in my eyes
poetrythe world has gone grey
for those who aren’t
too busy to notice
the only colors are
the circles in my eyes
whether i close them
or not
i perceive the days as shorter
as i grow old
and my breath shallowed
by atrophied lungs
call not to me for help
or shared warmth any longer
as we quicken the ever frenzied pace
running away
from each other
there is no we there is only me
poetrylook at what you’ve done
now florida is dissolving into
the atlantic ocean
why don’t you take a long look
at my father’s mirror?
and look upon your sinful heart
whose desires were so strong
that we simply had to divide up
the middle east into irreconcilable parts
and we had to fill your blood with
sugar and plastic
because we are just so giving
to our brothers and sisters
who are fatty little piggies who
eat eat eat and get fat
look at what you’ve done
if you shut the fuck up
i’ll make an offer you
can’t afford
lest you work for the rest of your days
i will make a machine that will
filter your blood
because i am so kind, and wise
and if you give me, say
half of your things
i will levy the ocean-side
and save the resorts and
sea-side villas
i will do this in spite of your
fat filled piggy heart
who dreams of fairy tales
and sugary piggy pies
sleeping standing up
in piles of shit
before the hammer gun
shatters your spinal cord
that is what i have done
eternity is but a single moment frozen in time
poetrythe cat birds will no longer find perch on
south greylock soon
because the oak tree there is
starting to die
and the grey squirrels almost
fall off the thin branches
when the cat birds land
lonely astronaut
poetryI am an astronaut
made of
a million or
so bugs
and i look down upon
cosmic rain washing the city
although, not god
I see my own reflection
on the oceans
walking in space
each step, another miracle
“I am not god”
I say to myself
just an astronaut
walking through
space, although
of all things I wield the most terrible power
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