robots, paranoia, leaving

poetry

once they decided to extend the day time
due to poor productivity during the night
he knew it was time to get out, time to
pull the plastic metal machine out from
his neck. not knowing what to call it,
or how exactly he was going to live
without plugging into the dock every
night before his stasis period was
beyond him. but as the tension
was building in the others who at
first held signs and
threw fire at the robots holding them
down he now saw taking jobs. the spirit
had ended, the game was over, they had
lost and it was apparent.
so he’d head out of his house and
never stop until he saw what
he could best guess was the color green.

leader of the free world

poetry

an hour glass to slow the moments
as history before our eyes unfolds
one more scoop of sand here to
slow things up and one more
pile of crap here to swallow down

chew your grainy feces filled bite
get used to the grain, the taste, the fight

before night comes one more pile
goes down. up to your knees wearing
the presidential crown

Sometimes someone else has to rip off the band-aid because addiction is a bitch

poetry

The new beginning of tomorrow
will also be an ending
in which I’ll no longer have a reason

towatchcnninthemorning
whilstmunchingoncereal
tolistentonpronthedrive
whilstavoidingawreck
towatchnbcnightlynews
whilsteatingmysupper

and while I’ll miss the chatter,
filling my life with incessant white noise,
I might welcome the peace
and the opportunity to wallow
in civil apathy once more.

boxers, long underwear, pants, shirt, sweater, jacket, gloves, hat, hood, and then maybe more pants

poetry

sun gave way to mist
to missing your midst

wind up and made me cold
pictures of bitter tea, rice wine

gloves gripping my hands
unnecessarily warming digits

hopes lost to crashing dreams
but not without celebration

the crust gathering on my thoughts
thick like the ground peas dried
on your otherwise pristine forehead
moving hand to face so as to miss your
mouth

with your hand knit green and yellow
booties we’ll make this the best winter
ever

without end.

fall back

poetry

give me an extra
hour two cups of
coffee and stand back
i transform into
a domestic superhero
vanquishing tasks
that have been
delayed for weeks

i slept in
mowed the lawn
cleaned the house
washed both cars
bought groceries
and it’s only 3:30pm

give me one more
hour and the world
would be mine
(or at least there’d
be a clean toilet).

stalks

poetry

they can’t even hear you
through the smoke and the
corn stalks
your stuck here
building walls out of
cd covers and garbage ideas
to hide your private stash
of different colored needles,
empty kool-aid packets,
and dead bugs
with your head in the clouds
screaming.

corn

poetry

walking around the garbage bins
i knew i was gonna find you here
lamping in the dim moon light
with street lamps and alley cats
i still pretend it’s on my way to
work and you still pretend like
your not gonna stay long
looking all confused and lost
and i hear rumor you left,
moved to a darker part of town
where the churches fall down
with all that fire on the ground
without all my unsent mixtapes