Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

an Observation

 

i wish

i could tell you

that everything

is going to be

alright, babe,

he said

through an inhale

of

vigilant smoke

 

we were sitting

on a furloughed

porch stoop

on a thursday morning

dragging

on cigarettes, watching

our shallow graves

wade

in timeless

waters

 

regret&sometimes loathing

 

he wasn`t much

for my emotions, `cause

he`d spew insults like

`your poetry

is a prison

with your verses

on death row`

 

and

 

`your insecurities

are like

temporary flowers    

wilting  

in white padded rooms

with black curtains

and no windows`

 

personally, i think

he just missed

partying with strippers

named barbie

and quoting bukowski

to his cat   

 

 

11 a.m.

 

he said

he awoke

with phlegm

in his throat

and

a dirty brunette

fucking with

the sid vicious`ness

of his mind

 

so, he said

he kicked her

off his bed

and she rolled under

and disappeared

like those non`nancy`s

his liver picks up

outside the hollywood liquor

at 11 a.m.

the same liver

that suffers daily

from binge psychosis

and

bullshit poetry

misses Saturday night

 

she closed the        gap

on their

relationship

 

at the bottom of a bourbon glass     

with a 6 pack of

blue ribbon Pabst

and

a toothbrush

once belonging

to johnny cash

Lipstick

 

this is

a

down

on

my luck

poem

 

it doesn`t want

your sympathy

or pity

 

it just wants you

to believe

that it`s

fucking

happy

 

that its

got

its shit

together

 

that it

still

can afford

to pay

for lipstick

a thing of Hollywood

 

i stopped wearing

deodorant.

stopped

shaving my pits,

my crotch,

my legs.

hoping to fall

on brad pitt`s lap.

a free

& unconventional

thing

of macabre

beauty.

dizzying in her daylight

the girlfriend left me ’round noon
packed her tampons, her Sex Pistols
and her Jimmy Choos ’cause she couldn’t choose between
me & her narcissistic cat;

I was glad she was gone      got tired of her hairballs

on to week 2 of being single and sexless in a city
populated by pussies & strays;
can’t hold a steady job
but I’m workin’ at a truck stop
binging on porn mags & 5¢ bubble gum
my subscription to YouTube is gettin’ ready to expire

met this lot lizard named something something
she said I was better than the scum prowling for prowl
said she wanted to become a nun
and start a coalition of ‘nuns with benefits’
for the priests the pope and the bishops
but she shunned on the idea when she realized
that she probably couldn’t wear lipstick

said she was a woman
who didn’t like working hard for her money
said that Donna Summer could kiss her ass
and wondered if she was still alive?

I thought the lizard lived in a trailer park
but she just wanted to swing by
and listen to the Gibbs with the squatters; she thought
Travolta was a Bee Gee & the dance floor an alien ship

she was such a fucking ditz, I was missing my ex
and her head trips

but she spun me dizzy, stuck a joint in my mouth
while she chewed birth control pills and spilled
every detail of her life on my lap – I had to tap out at 10
lights out at 12 but she started cleaning my house;
she was a trainwreck in a beehive hairdo
and I wondered if she was a product of a B52;
a love child from the love shack?

then we had sex, rug burn across the kitchen floor
her cunt felt like a good catch on a sunny day …

subscription renewed

because queens

 

i blamed myself

for your indiscretions for the longest time,

but i came to realize i was not

responsible

for your betrayal;

you were a devil pretending to be a saint—

just another snake

trying to steal away another eden,

but i am the queen here;

so i exiled you from the garden

and i am not sorry—

my entire life i have heard of adam and eve,

how it’s not adam and steve but perhaps

there’s something beyond your comprehension;

maybe it was lilith & eve because queens

tend to be stronger without kings

demanding their heads.

a momentary re`lapse of poetic insanity


I don’t ask for much
just a casual walk on these padded streets
in search of that
Great American Poem
at the bottom of a gutter
saturated with trash
that at one time used to be
someone else’s treasure
til they got evicted from their lives

you want to hold hands, you say
you said your palms
feel empty of weight and sweat
with those lifelines
posing like ulterior roads, and your soul
gridlocked on its highway –
I tell her to stop hitchhiking

I think my brain
is suffering from a 3rd degree burn
the lake looks unsavory
pleasant though as I contemplate suicide
with a drowning duck
but I’m too busy reading She Poems
wondering if I would find true love
at the end of a burning kitchen?

she wants to go home, and I don’t
care to walk her back – she gets up
from the bench and flips me the birdie
and I spit sunflower seeds at her hair
wondering if the sun will ever forgive me
for growing a garden on her head?

I feel an anxiety attack building
at the intersection of my conscience and poetry
because the pigeons have come by
for their tweakly visit
and just for a moment I actually contemplate on
tossing ’em crumbs of crystal rock
instead of my week old bread
because I, too, tend to forget that I’m starving

I mean, flying around the city
and splatting pigeon shit all over the place
isn’t exactly
creating masterpieces of art
worthy of someone’s hard earned bread
you still have to clean that crap up, and
I don’t see pigeons tossing me a crumb
for the effort

I starve the pigeons, take my bread home
and make me a bologna sandwich

I don`t

want to hear

excuses

about why

you forgot

my roses, how you

missed

that last exit

to placebo`ville

or how your hand

accidentally rode up

your therapists skirt

I just

want to

mesh my mouth

against yours, and hit

rock bottom

with your teeth