online literature since 2007

Thursday, May 27, 2010

two knots

the sick sauce of the sunlight
on the mustard of the ocean
was tempered by the twilight
of their heavy hanging minds

"deny the feeling
in your sockets
and the lightness
in your pockets
don't forget
to drink the water
with the wine.

don't deny
the looping juices
of her nectar
don't destroy
the secret chamber
in her breast
please give in
to her entreaties
and take her to the
smallest cities...
but never ever ever
deny her any treasure
for your pleasure
is forever her's to test."


two knots knotted
sat facing the horizon.

foam licked
the edges of their fingertips
while birds,
so white & grey,
flew overhead.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Poems Written on Adderall - 5/21/10

feels like i should just do what i used to do because i was smarter then


really want to write some poetry
just keep thinking of rap songs that don't exist yet


the armpit of my brain is sweaty
hairs needs trimming

visible deodorant becoming hard
and falling off


the hard cock of my brain is
ready for

the virginal vagina of life


the bi polar old clown of my brain
is quitting it's job at the circus
after thirty-six years -
sixty-eight years of life,
and starting over again

it's never too late to start over again


we are perpetually 'starting over' and
perpetually ignorant


never felt as good as
i feel now

or maybe i have but can't remember


sophomore male in pokemon shirt is not as ironic as he thinks, i guess


i'm the best rapper alive
i just haven't harnessed it yet


thought/wrote 'harnessed' in the previous poem
maybe meaning 'harvest'
or 'harvested'

keep thinking of a band maybe called 'blue moon' or like, 'october sky' and they had a song that was played on the radio maybe four years ago

not 'i hate everything about you'

but another song kind of similar that was just at a slower tempo i guess


gonna keep writing
gonna endure the study hall of life...


i got the lean connect


going to go help my mom set up for after prom

love my mom


video of me reading one of the above poems after drinking promethazine with 7up, ice, and a blue raspberry flavored jolly rancher

Monday, May 17, 2010

each day's work and activities brings a renewed sense of accomplishment
but nothing was really accomplished
and i become lazy
and i am discontent with the contentment i feel

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

One lousy soap poem on the mirror
is all he never wrote,
and me,
look at his face through the hyperventilation,
documentary of his suicide slowly blooming,
how they made their applause!
How the they’s encourage the booze and the pain
to medicate their hypocritical contempt,
to numb for moments the lack of feeling in their lives.
Fuck off, seriously, fuck off.
I will toil the fields of language for you until my hands are blistered
And the puss fills my brain.
Seriously, fuck off.
You don’t want any of this,
you can applause from your velvet balconies and return to your homes
and fuck your lovers and use the emotion we paid for in teeth.
The early mornings are the worst, when the black of the night
sticks around until the afternoon, sometimes for days,
and the raccoon mask I wear is not some left over disguise from an orgy.
The only orgy I have ever attended involved me weeping and puking
and shaking the life out of me into my hands holding premature stars.
You ever been there?
I didn’t think so
These words, like all my words, will become your thoughts, for free.
And I give them to you.
And I hate you for it.
And I thank you.
And I weep for you.
And I pray for you.
Pray for me.
Seriously, fuck off. 

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

bad day in february

today his car died, forever
so i emailed him sexy pictures
i hope he gets home from work
looks at me grinning,
jumping topless in bed
and thinks "she really cares about me."

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Into Nova

Into Nova

there are the sneaks left at the door
of the wingless
                                    aero planes
            fleets of college kids
collecting pennies in dirty delight
American steampunk promises

roar in the legs of boredom

grown into clothes too small
stuffed in the bells
of the great stone fries
silencing our steps

into nova

one future to lose
just wanting to be that someone
can eat the dandelions

like butterscotch bottle caps who

thinks back and
because the tree rings
                        in our limbs
don’t show how starved we are

by the dominion
of compliance