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
1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: March 22, 2020 in Musing, Poetry, Uncategorized, UpdateTags: BoySlutMagazine
0
the kingdom, denied
in these sepia-toned rooms of
memory i relive
25 years of drowning
in the season of ascension
we eat only dust
and i have these pictures and i
have these poems and i am
not sorry for being thin
enough to fade from view
i have no use for your
anger and none for your pain
we were there at the table
when the bullet
caught christ in the throat
i was fucking your
sister on the afternoon my
grandfather took his
own life and
listen –
confession isn’t art
the starving know enough
to view your god as nothing
more than so much meat
all magic is contained w/in
the moment of revelation
and then all that’s
left is dust
a long way from home, and bleeding
everything revealed,
but not until we’re all dead,
and this is just the way it works
i love you
but it’s not enough
i hate my life,
and how ordinary is that?
was there ever anything to do, really,
but fuck and get high?
listen
the trick is to forget the past and
close your eyes against the future
the trick is to never stop moving
we kill what we fear,
we become what we hate and
maybe this finally explains my father
maybe a mouthful of broken glass
is all any of us really need
nothing ever feels as good as
the pain
we can share with others
*read John Sweet`s bio here
Hangnail
i WILL write you
this poem even if it takes
whiskey, leonard cohen &
biting your fucking fingernails
to finish it!
1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: February 24, 2020 in Musing, Poetry, Stuff, UncategorizedTags: BoySlut Magazine
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
1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: February 21, 2020 in Musing, Poetry, UncategorizedTags: BoySlutMagazine
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
1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: February 10, 2020 in Poetry, Stuff, UncategorizedTags: BoySlut Magazine
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.
1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: January 30, 2020 in Musing, Poetry, UncategorizedTags: BoySlut Magazine
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 …
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