at night when
the temperature is
low enough to finally
wear a sweatshirt
and you begin to
dissolve.
poetry
head cold
poetryMoments are phasing
Between hot and cold,
Pressure escaping
today eh. great day eh.
poetrytimes like these
lacking comfort
given up for adventure
standing up while riding
with the wind in your face
passing the crowd by
street lights aglow
parties but you dont partake
food and friends
thanksgiving
so worth the sacrifice
why the hell am i still at work?
poetryi hate
cliches
but the sunset
set this hallway
aflame
that ethereal
wavelength
soaking
in the freshly
waxed floors.
I got nothing
poetryno inspiration
except for poo,
poo, poo, poo, poo
glorious poopoo
smooshed and smeared
and oozing across the page
in the form of words
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
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