no inspiration
except for poo,
poo, poo, poo, poo
glorious poopoo
smooshed and smeared
and oozing across the page
in the form of words
poetry
pooetry day
poetryand when on toilet i did sat
things came out and i did shat
the things i knew to come they did
unfortunately some on the lid
but poo is as poo does and we all poo poo
from small ones to big ones its still doo doo
be hard be it small or be it round
best if we keep it in our pants, in the bowl, off the ground
be it well written or be it shit
anything today will fit
poo in a can, a crapper, a bus, a tree
a day it will be of pooetry
christmas stalking
poetrytickled fallen broken lacking
all things never wanted throwing
out the back door trash can burning
lighting laughing smiling churning
noting nothing ever smoking
feeling nothing never wanting
waning knowing never stopping
till then growing walking talking
stalking
motherfuckers put a filter on my brain
poetryit’s hard to see past your own nose
it’s hard to put that in your prose
and when i’m on a slump
and revel in muck
i want to throw myself in the road
fall
poetrywe fall into
bed like jumping into
the ocean welcoming
the undertow of
our dreams and
gravity’s
effect.
because friends that create awkward social situations all the time should be syndicated. put on tv. laughed at by multiple nations. not enjoyed with a beer in hand in a neighboring couch
poetrycut the tension
with a noodle
then you know
good company
Memoriarum Quae Mortua Sunt
poetryOf the memories
What is a memory when even you
don’t see
What is a memory when you can not drift to
some other time
and world and space
How often do people say don’t dwell on the past
Live in the moment
Why not when you have not a single regret
Why not live off in the other spectrum
Do you feel it like I do
A gentle, warm Summer breeze back when I was…
because sometimes i feel like a little kid again.
poetryits night and so
in a bit we’ll go
to places we
would never see
without dreams of
the things we love
the hopes we live
and things we give
its night and so
in a bit we’ll go
to places we
tonight will see
in dreams of blue
with me
with you
its night and so
to dreams i go
sometimes my mom called it hershey’s squirts
poetrywhen you leave a roger
write a little note about it
share it with your friends
and let the world know
your joy
your weight before and after
consistency and whether or not
today you had sinkers
floaters
or exploders
Another place and time
poetrywhite knuckles gripping the wheel
i drive hard through ike
wishing I was in another place
or in another time,
because either would do
to get me away from
the hurricane
i like food when it tastes EXACTLY like it should, just better
poetryswank
‘fusion,’ he says
taste’s exactly like it shouldn’t
vomit
forgotten utterances
poetryA page drfiting by
Maybe even a love note
Urban tumbleweed.
on knowing i am where i should be (completing the whole)
poetrychange clothes thrice
share about impact
pan over-fried sole fish
dreams and realities
in a big puzzle
serving as one piece can seem mundane
until the puzzle is assembled
that one little hole must be filled
it’s been such a long time
poetrythis lava
that courses
through my
veins
these spiders
that crawl
through my
brain
they have
always felt
just this
way
and it
does always
burn the
same
this night
that bodes
me to
shake
haiku
poetryi welcome this air
thick with the smell and chill of autumn–
before the sunrise.
Why wave the white flag now ?
poetryYou have pined up all your hopes on me
you have nailed me to the cross
Do you actually think that I will resurrect for you?
On my way out, you cheerfully threw at me your
“Work Hard” pet phrase.
Hell, I have aged at the touch of you
my joints hurts in the open air
my back responds to well to the gravity’s pull
only this snow so white on the ground
keeps me from hurrying to the devil’s mouth
not homesick. just proud of where i’m from.
poetrysoft – like carpet you can lay on
delectable – like a fresh glazed cake donut
exciting – like week one of football season
soothing – like a shower with the right water pressure
clean – like bare feet you don’t have to wipe off to come inside
diverse – like “smothered burrito or cajun mahi mahi?”
comfortable – like your own car with your own loud music
relaxing – like sunday driving
bright – like needing sunglasses after the snow
clear – like crisp air turning mist after a snow
pretty – like an afternoon walk around the lake
roomy – like the width of the isles at the grocery store
spicy – like the mustard on your beer brats
better – like america
fragmented
poetryi remember 16 as loud as
a gunshot, yet as
boring as cornfeilds in the
summer
it was permanent, then
the insanity
that is
that comes along with
knowing just how long
your
arms
are
exactly
and
not being precisely
sure
not being exactly
perfectly
fucking
sure
of how to use them
i remember 16 as dead as
a cemetary yet as frantic
as hanging to the side of
the earth
(with your nails)
it was all so fragmented, then
love
that is
and now looking back i seem
to miss
every
single
breath
i
took
of
every
day
and the rain that dripped outside
my windows on some stolen night
with the fruition of my higschool
fantasies and the bane of my
young-adult
ones
i remember 16 as well as i remember
anything else these days:
most often when i’d like not to.
get into the macro for 2 seconds, please
poetryA leak in the hull.
It’s dripping is heard louder
Than roars of the sea
the english major’s sudden realization:
poetryshit.
the sieve and the sand 
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