Amidst a Barrage Unwanted.

poetry

One dared to let their fingers fly
and found themselves among a
slew of fast-flying insults that
had nothing, really, to do with them.

So reluctantly they stepped aside
and threw their hands in the air.
First, considered, “Why are you fighting?”
Then, conceded. “Let the fuckers kill eachother.”

Interview Thoughts

poetry

I stand there
then sit here;
all the whilst
you judge me
and i judge you:

do you like me?
do i like you?
do i pass your test?

why should i let you judge me?
how should i answer this question?
do you want the truth or a lie?

do you want to hear that i
really only want a paycheck?
do you want to know that i
love being off in the summer?
do you want to hear that i
really don’t care?
do you want to know that i
was once kicked out of uzbekistan?

probably not,
and so i’ll tell you exactly
what you want to hear
and i’ll expect as my just reward
the bestowment of the job,
no lie.

Firsts

poetry

Too often I lament the ideas
That have eluded my pen
But in mourning even one second
I miss what now is.
Take as much as I can.
Begin the very first chapter
Of my very first book.
The first is always the hardest, they say.
The first step,
The first day,
The first word,
The first sentence.

Murderous

poetry

And he’s alright he’s
sure, he’s done this
before, he’s
got all his cards in line
got all his ducks in a
row. And he knows
just what he needs to do.

There’s a body between him
and you (not a dead one).

…(yet).

iiii

poetry

so they killed it all in one night
down the throat and then
back out and he’s hanging over
the ledge thinking
you don’t love me anymore?
they made you not love me anymore
and he says he’s never
gonna
love
anyone
again.

That’s Shocking!

poetry

this week’s been
one of those weeks;
full of surprising ups
that aren’t really ups;
full of angry downs
that aren’t really downs;
and topping it all off
was the realization today,
bursting upon me in a flash,
that what i thought was a fart
had more mass to it
making that the shitty cherry
to top off this horrible week.

Messed That Up.

poetry

at times I find
that I must bring
myself to stand
before you

With

my head held high
and just enough
a grin that it
unsettles you

I

Hope that we have
come to terms with
all the points we’ve
blundered past

but

recent light has
shown a sight of
unforgivable
happenstance.

So…

If we choose to
rectify these
failures that we
perpetrate
we ought to
learn to pass us by
and get out before
it’s too late.

Your Eyes.

poetry

There is something on your mind.
I can see it in your
eyes
and your
eyes, mostly.

You know what you want, and that’s
out. All the way to
Cincinnati. All the way to
Ruin. At least
that’s what I
think it means.

But you haven’t been to Cinci in
a long, long time. And you’ve
no idea what state it’s in
(of course you know Ohio),
but it takes a lot of discipline
to stay here, that much I know.
But I know you want to go.
I can see it in your
eyes
and your
eyes, mostly.

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