poetry

American Lobotomy

poetry

american lobotomy
your brain’s just a muscle
your ghost is all that counts
slow down einstein
we need these sheep for clothes
slow down einstein
your not fluent in puppet
slow down einstein
you faggot
you loser
you geek
you nerd
bleach your hair white
like the rest of the herd
jesus christ more like
peter pan.

Strap Up.

poetry

One would be amazed
if one really knew
what one was really
capable of strapping
to one’s hood.

With the right set
of bungees and a
strong piece of rope,
anything is possible.

Now tell your uncle
to stop fucking around.
And cut the boy loose,
would you?

prayers

poetry

routine hits morning with a lack
of poetic beauty as i address
your problem of peeing on yourself
by changing your children’s depends
and tossing them to the hall way as
you smile for the camera to say hello
to great grandma and wonder if you’ll
ever know who she is or she’ll be
gone first but now its time for o’s
on your plate or lack thereof and a
nap before its off to the only place
we go all week with childcare and
you smile knowing nothing of what’s
about to be said, or sung, or done, all
the while i just keep hoping you know
hope
joy
lack of fear
before your father did at 20

Texas Thunder Storms

poetry

the day was dark
damp and dank
with rolling,
rumbling,
crashing,
shocking,
shaking,
reverberating thunder
and flashes of lightning,
so bright,
lighting the night,
jaggedly stretching
from earth to sky,
briefly burning into my eyes,
remaining burned in memory
long after the darkness returned
and consumed the light completely,
so that only the damp and dank,
the dark remained.

last and furthest from the least on the left

poetry

speaking your muddled mind
you breathe through pain filled
throat ache smoke filled rooms
of unheated cement walls covered
in ancient plaster leaking none
less dangerous insulation drinking
fermented re-gifted tea leaves from
paper pixie sized but not branded
cups thinking these folks understand
your words when really they’re more
fascinated by your fashion statement
of plastic mold poured foot accessories
popular where you’re from but that’s
nowhere near here

Hookie

poetry

I’m not sick,
and yet i’m home
as my class begins
in exactly 1 minute,
and while i sit,
distracting myself,
it still does not work
becasue in the back
of my mind all i can do
is think about the mountain
of papers, of work
sitting just to my left
beckoning to me
calling to me
convincing me to work,
despite my laziest misgivings.

THESE THINGS ARE ALL MY FAULT

poetry

i am enamored by the beauty of
the birds singing through
the streets, my eyes glued,
sun whirling through the
windows growing trees
hidden beneath the carpet —
then i go back to my apartment,
after the world,
which is rotating and i
must jump in because
me and
you
we must have the world spinning
behind us
that is how we work
so our world is on a
spinning pedestal
and
i’m convinced
that
it’s all my fault
that i am dizzy.

Alarming.

poetry

I’ve become quite accustomed to
your certain brand of rhetoric,
and though lunacy is in my blood
I’m certainly no lunatic

so shout another awkward joke
and make the comp’ny cringe
they’re all far to prim and proper
to be wand’ring on our fringe

we’ll scare them all away from here
so they can find their own damn henge.