sariya iman okoye

hi, i never do this but feel my recent silence warrants explanation- so here is an update:

2011-09-06T23:59:00.000-07:00

sorry for that 'hiatus' of sorts... long story. for those who know me, they know i have still been writing yet untrusting of the internet (initially) then jest too tired/sick to update it. either way, i will start posting more of my new writing. and also i am working on 'my website' there will be a 'shop' so y'all can buy my words y lotsa fun/sexy merchandise. until then, if anybody wants a copy of 'this manuscript kills fascists' (which is a compilation of earlier work) hit me up (yeshomopress@gmail.com) and we'll get 'er done together, eh? of course, the posts that were previously on this blog still exist as well as a few newer pieces. hope all of yous are well and swell and full of love and life and are making sure to live it before ya die. with love/con amor. -sariya iman okoye p.s. new chapbook- 'requiem for a wetdream'- for sale soon. p.p.s. crap band performance of george strait, kickball, taylor swift, kanye west, mike jones, nelly, jerimih, patsy cline, garth brooks, etc. comin' soon...stay tuned for the date ladies. oh, yeah, sorry gentleman are invited too, i guess...ugh jest like stay off my ---k know jocking/jacking k? hehe. listen to beastie boys paul revere and imagine me doing all three parts and having props/dancing like an 0.g. (original gangsta silly, not orange-duck duck duck-goose, you're it liz.

n.a

2011-09-06T01:12:00.000-07:00

currently, literally, living- barely surviving-
in the closet at my family home

pick up yr damn phone

i’m alone

listening to the notwist

wishing it were christmas

and you were my present

i’d like to unwrap you- you

have a gift it is true

so brilliant

both inside and outside

it isn’t that hot tonight

i’m 'bout to go on a car ride

listen to toni braxton then

do a beer run

i’ll let you know when i’m

done

......

wait for it.....wait for it.....

gosh-darn-it!

oh shit!

i jest jacked a 30 pack ‘n

hurt the hell outta my

back

then finally out ran the po-po

like a darn cartoon, me

the wiley coyote

or the rabbit

and the fuzz elmer fudd

then i get home and fuck!

it’s non alcoholic, na

as in narcotics anonymous

as in native american

as in non-applicable

as in not-at-all-funny

but in the end i guess it is

pretty hilarious

that

somebody just made me a fake

myspace saying i was straight

it was so awkward having

to explain to my parents

that ‘no, it’s a hoax i am

still gay’

anyway,

the advent of the internet,

cell phones, text messages,

etc have certainly made

pranking a lot more

eazy

was so right

got pulled

over by a

cop tonight

while on my bike

he shined his flash light

in my face and reached

for his billy club and mace

he asked me for my i.d.

unfortunately i had just been

chopping up a line of china

white

so as i handed it to him i swear

to god i saw a big white cloud

of powder float up from its

surface

i believe the only reason he didn’t

arrest me is cus i am young, dumb

and crazy

not to mention brown and proud

what up, bobby brown

ground and green grass

stained jeans

see

i fell on my ass, skinned

my knees

cus i thought i was being

chased by the police,

again, but it turns

out

a sheriff just moved in

next door

is always closed

and chained

but one day

you’ll let me

i can taste it in the wind,

i can feel it in my bones

ache.

punchline

2011-09-06T00:00:00.000-07:00

it feels so good it hurts

don’t it?

ever heard of that dumb

joke that goes:

wanna hertz donut?

then you punch somebody,

the person you asked it

and say: hurts, don’t it?

quite a literal- bit tasteless-

punchline i think don’t u

miss me even a teensy

bit? am i out of line

of coke made my nose

feel like i was snorting

broken bones

aching

i was waiting in line for punch

when she kicked me in the

butt

out

and make sure to take

yr cigarette butts

outside

i feel most alive

when i am in

yr presence

i feel most

like living

when i am

closest

to death

becomes me

amen

2011-09-05T23:45:00.000-07:00

i rejoice at the sound of your voice

and i miss yr kiss yr lips yr scents

yr hips yr thighs yr eyes yr booty

yr legs yr feet combing yr hair

in the shower making love

in the bathtub breaking

candles all over yr

parents’ bathroom

floor whilst listening

to elliott smith (r.i.p)

ughhhh

yr lips on my lips

yr lips on my v

‘baby

baby

baby’

abc

123

t.l.c

just let me

let me back in

please

let me give

you all the

love you

need

let me feed

yr hungry

body

i’m ‘down on bended knee’

singing boyz II men songz

i’m up at dawn running

around in circles

wishing i could find you

wishing that you could

put the past behind you

and let me back in again

because i know that

our future is meant to be

you and i were meant

to be together forever

and ever whether we

end up in hell or its

reflection heaven

you and i

belong

together

forever

and ever

times/x

infinity

amen

cemetery

2011-09-05T23:40:00.001-07:00

i wish you were here with me

i wish i could sing you to

sleep

i wish we could sit in this truck bed

in the back of my el camino

laying on blankets listening

to the wind, to music

drinking a six pack

smoking cigarettes

and staring up at the black sky

sprinkled with yellow white

gleaming stars bright

that will never shine brighter than your eyes

we park out in the middle of the cemetery

on our second first date it’s late it’s dark

and cloudy

yet

tonight i see everything so clearly

i’m shackled to a job being paid minimum wage

yet i haven’t been this antithesis of incarcerated

since i was born since we’ve met i’ve been free

well, actually

the moment you left me i got trapped back in

that dark black nasty prison again however

i can tell that from now on i can tell that

this time there’s no more hell to spell

things are going to be different

i can tell as i spell out iloveyou

in yr mouth as i go down on

you heading south to that

beautiful oasis that foreign

land bushy and sweet

as i lick yr clit and kiss

yr lips i sing into you

i hope you can feel it

when you orgasm

damn

i wish you were here with me

i wish i could sing you to

sleep

i wish we could sit in this truck bed

in the back of my el camino

laying on blankets listening

to the wind, to music

drinking a six pack

smoking cigarettes

on your back you

drinking more than

half of this six pack

and i just laugh

inwardly as i sing

you awake you

whisper ‘good

luck’ before we

begin to fuck

i wish as i climax that this

will never end and then

you fall asleep as i sing

silently lullabies of beauty

i tell the stars that i am thankful

for each and every granted wish

for each and every second spent

in yr presence is a present

as you drool and snore in your sleep

i continue to thank every single star

in the sky towards daylight i say

thanks until the break

of day when the last

star disappears i tell her

that i am glad i no

longer have to wish

upon the falling/

shooting ones

because

i’ve now got all i want

and this time, this life

is yours and mine

and

things are going to be

different i can tell

cigarettes/sista-brotha

2011-09-05T12:40:00.001-07:00

my cigs

went

sale

today

anotha’

reason

for a

sista-brotha

keep

smoking

aw, fuck

oops, i mean, let’s keep

this shit G rated: aw,

shucks

cancer

4 yo

buck...

sorry big-e

i luv thee

pero if u

dramatic, unromantic, y problematic

then u gun’ git lots’a problems

regardless of yr financial

position/assets

alas, re: cigarettes...

‘smoke em if u got em’

boo

shiii-t

not ‘shiite’ muslims

are just the latest version

of jews, christians, catholics,

etc.

damn

i jest

got stung

by a bee

(gods way of warning me

i’m taking my witty satire

a bit too far, maybe...)

black & yellow

it’s all my fault tho

i shouldn’t’ve been

all dressed up in

bright coloured

clothes

(damn i luv ‘coloured’ folk)

like the 80s/90s

just hope i ain’t allergic

to this sting

last thing

i need

is to be

anaphylactic

shock me

when i stick

my fist in

yr socket

is electric,

magnetic,

n jest so

gorgeous

gorgeous.

(gil scott) heron/black man

2011-09-05T12:31:00.000-07:00

move over-

the black man is takin’ ova-

no more/no mo’/no mas

white-

they a ‘thang’

o’da past-

i’d blast ‘em all

off

myself

if i can

get a

day

off.

turn on yr cellphone

then pick it up,

fuck...

the black man

alone will

keep

the human race

prospering/

thriving/

survivin’

see, he had 4 three year olds

simultaneously

meaning, he had at least 4

baby mamas at the same

time

out

let me/lemme’ shout:

them christians,

them catholics,

them atheists,

them agnostics,

them dim-wits

say they against

abortion

yet

they get it

n-e way

it’s

like ethnic

cleansing

in reverse,

the other

way ‘round...

soon er’body’ll

mixed

‘n brown bi babies,

children wit green/

blue eyes y

straight golden

straight curls

will rule

this world

(malcom was wrong...x don’t mark the spot

is blowin’ up, wish my fone was...)

same thang goes

fer ‘being gay’

look at true blood’s

vamps for examp/

por ejemplo:

bill will so go

for woman o

man

(still no children tho, yous

a nasty ho...)

it seems on a long

enough time line

bigotry begins

to die ‘n then

the devils ‘n

disguise

can no longer homogenize

the world, capitalize on

gurls, reek rape

genocide on

this earth

is magnificent

let’s all get naked

have a seance sans ‘parants’

like kan-ye say

hey

then

let’s

baptize our past lives

in the omnipotence

of allah’s ocean

p.s. i love yr eyes, he loves her thighs, she ‘don’t date/dig guyz’/

the black man

and/&

i forgets

always/all ways

annoyingly

to apologize

punctually-

so darling believe me when i say:

i be sorry

no! let’s hurry up ‘n get dressed,

like heron said: ‘this revolution

will not be televised’

damn

cus’ i can tevo that ish-

dah-yum

mami

i luv yr mind,

i wanna lick

it.

p.s. when we gun' admit it: americans
are bilingual, the national language
should be spanglish, bitch.

blow me

2011-09-03T23:24:00.000-07:00

blow

kiss

make

wish

it’s 11:11

someplace

isn’t it?

‘n if it isn’t

then

light candles

on a cake

...jest be careful,

whatchu wish

for

i mean, make

no mistake

i am already hers.

liz/dragons

2011-09-03T01:08:00.000-07:00

fuck the game,

not the rapper

but this ‘thing’

we say we play...

i’m not gay

yr jest straight-

wait

the

weight

is too heavy

to carry

me from the car-seat,

i fell asleep

on the ride home

always seems shorter-

find me a shiny penny

i’ll trade you this here

quarter

back broke his back

when i was a kid

i never imagined

dragons didn’t

exist

for me again, liz,

please?

we don’t have to have kids

but can’t we at least

have fun

in this sun- and, if you’d like to be

laid in the shade or just lay

in the shade with me, that’d

be okay, that’d be great

of course

i’m fine

just having you in my life, by my

side; you’re already in my mind

like the name of an artist on the tip

of your lips,

like a word on the tip of my tongue-

when i was young i never thought it

possible to become the definition

of sadness

i was happy just to be,

happy just to exist

for me again, liz, please?

we don’t have to have kids

but can’t we at least have

fun and pretty

please

pretty?

until next time

2011-09-02T10:08:00.001-07:00

it seems as if i’m mean

when i am just thinking

of a way to say the things

i feel

overwhelmingly

words are such futile devices,

like baking without sugar and spices;

the words that exit the oven of

my mouth

do little to reflect the raw emotion,

the ingredients when mixed

together with syntax

and my foolish voice

have no choice but to fall flat

like soda with the cap

left off overnight

again, my plight is to try

to find a way to say

all the things i long

to say,

like: i love you more than each and every grain of sand

on all the beaches in this universe

like: i miss you more than all the money the greedy wish

they carried within a purse

like: how i cry at night worried that before the hearse carries

one of us away on the final day

i won't be able to say all the things i long to say-

but, perhaps- i remind my mind

love is not a line to write, love is not a sound to make

but maybe loving is doing, love is a verb so possibly

loving is an action

so with a seemingly insignificant gesture

such as: a door held open

such as: an offer to take the heavier load, to lighten your burden

such as: breakfast in bed or a ‘ticket’ written on inelegant

paper for a ‘free massage’, such as cleaning the garage

such as: a ride from the station when the car is out of gas or the battery

is no longer full of life

i offer this mess of diction as some type of action of love, as a placeholder

till i am able to get the words in the correct order in order

to say the right things

please accept my meager attempt at ‘saying it’

for, it is true that we do

not say it enough

i wish it weren’t so tough

yet, again, words aren’t much

to say-

they are futile devices that more often

than not seem to just get in the way

either way, i hope this piece of paper

with these words can be at least

an ‘i owe you’ until i can get it

right,

until next time.

i do

2011-09-02T10:03:00.000-07:00

wish i didn’t but i do

since every band is from brooklyn

let’s move back to the towns

we were born in and then

make it ‘big’

since nobody does acid anymore

and heroin is ‘passe’ these days,

let’s do both of them within the

same hour

since nothing makes sense

and we can’t afford to

be nonsensical

let’s save this planet

and kill ourselves

then drench the wind in our sins

i can’t sleep so we make a pot of coffee

then drink it sin sugar or cream:

black

the tissues keep

coming back

bloody

so we cease to scream; it is amazing

the kind of shit you can get used to

like: being constipated extremely

so much so that you haven’t

shat in weeks

lesbian/cleft chin

2011-09-02T10:02:00.001-07:00

wish i had a cleft chin

wish there was no such thing

as a lesbian

and i wasn’t one of them

just one of us

...she introduced herself as ‘jennifer’

and said ‘do not call me jenny, i won’t answer

cus i used to go by jenny when i did heroin/

drugs sos if anyone calls me that i’ll know

that it ain’t worth it to reply’

i laughed an inward sigh

it’s okay you don’t have to try

just go ahead and cry

you don’t want me

i don’t even brush

my teeth

and i often forget

to shower

or the minutes on the hour

you remind me of my

oncologist

hairy legs and pits

unshaved

i kissed your gynecologist

then misbehaved-

the way we studied then cut and mixed

them rocks you’d’ve thought

we were geologists

or petrologists

but we’re not

gonna stop

till you start

quitting

the writing’s on the wall

aren’t always hieroglyphics

or graffiti

but we need

to read them

regardless

of whether or not

you’ll sign this

peace treaty

...i haven’t any money,

so how are you to

love me?

i ain’t got a suitcase

in any case, so

how am i to move

to new york city?

i wish we could live our dreams

while awake

old age

2011-09-02T10:02:00.000-07:00

we are too young to be dying

of old age

memorizing, then repeating

words on the page

thirsting for better, brighter days

knowing that black is needed;

the darkness:

turning off all the lights at night

to shower in the opposite

of light

and give my

legs a quick

sick shave

if i had a remote i’d press rewind

throughout the times of these

days and watch every noose

knot untie,

every slit wrist re-stitch,

all those broken hearts mend

to just a bend; trains reversing

round the bend

and my watch stopped working/

decided to quit before i fired it

who needs time anyway?

cage humans

2011-09-02T10:01:00.001-07:00

prisons cage humans-

it is the simple truth of it,

whether or not you believe in

justice

or crime and punishment

you can’t

obfuscate

or run away

from that

simple fact

just as the human beings rotting

inside those confines cannot

run away or hide

from the fact that

their lives

are no longer in their hands

outside of suicide

orange juice/o.j simpson

2011-09-02T10:01:00.000-07:00

orenthal james simpson killed nicole and got away with it

i, loved someone to death and then

was sentenced to a fate worse than death

i bought it all- for you- with a currency coronary

yet was convicted on one too many counts

of theft

angry & bereft

wearing a red beret

with nothing, much, left

to say

except:

have a good night, a good life, and a beautiful

day

my dna was okay but ‘they’

made me pay

anyway

and at least my ears will never stop growing

nor will my nose

also,

at the rate i’m going i’ll never have to purchase

new clothes

two

2011-09-02T10:00:00.000-07:00

it is hard to forgive

that which you can’t

forget

it’s easy to give every

memory away- they

are much harder

(far more difficult)

to keep-

sleep is easy when you are exhausted

and medicated

ii.

my body is a cage or a prison or, at best,

a vessel to move around in

one

2011-09-02T09:59:00.002-07:00

lying includes withholding information.

i held a sign at the demonstration, i

fell asleep and held your hand in a

dream

‘you let me’ get to second base, then

i stole towards home plate

sliding in

as the umpire yelled ‘safe’

and the referee lifted two fingers on his left

hand and three on his right

meaning: you win this time, but just

wait until tomorrow night

crying with no tears

2011-09-02T09:59:00.001-07:00

a lot of crying with no tears

ample apologies after way

too many years

justice, quick and severe

prison food

2011-09-02T09:59:00.000-07:00

we always say if ‘x’ happened

i’d never be able to go on living

if ‘y’ occurred i couldn’t live with

myself any longer

and

if she were to change her number,

delete her e-mail address, move

to the same city as me yet remain

invisible to me, there’s no way

i’d live to see another day

yet

here i am-

certainly, the worst part is

that we do live

isn’t it?

isn’t it

sick the diseases we share

without even realizing it?

if i could just push a button, swallow

a pill

then forget

i would do it

sans pain

and i would embrace the 'change'

and ask for no receipt

drop

2011-09-02T09:58:00.000-07:00

we took it off

and climbed the top

just to see how far

we’d drop

luck

2011-09-02T09:57:00.000-07:00

wolf criers die alone- lonely and cold

i thought we were definitions without words?

i wanna see your face as you see my face

for the first time

in your life

everything feels alright, all is fine

not a nickel or a dime to rub together

and the weather is freezing but

it doesn’t matter because

you are happy

you are free

you may not be lucky

but what good is luck

when you have

everything

you could ever want or need?

trying to make sense of this

feeling euphoric

while it panics

the closet

trapped and already dead

yet that skeleton

is more alive

than ever

as you try to be clever and hide

the secrets bubbling up inside

threatening to collide

with your made up,

make-believe reality

and maybe the odds are daunting

but somebody wins the lottery

so why can’t it be you and me?

gasoline

2011-09-02T09:56:00.000-07:00

i am a regular customer at all of the convenient stores

in my neighbourhood, including yours

i’d like to purchase things i cannot afford

i’d like to live on a street, in a community, in an era

where nobody has a need to lock their doors

i’d like to watch you eat many many apples green

till their cores shine and gleam

like broken teeth encased in ice

melting in a puddle of rainbow gasoline

just because he didnt kill you

doesnt mean he didnt end

your life

law/gestalt therapy

2011-09-02T09:55:00.001-07:00

like spinning plates or pulling teeth.

the long arm of the law reaches out across

the sea to punch me in the jaw

until i bleed

red into this great blue ocean

creating purple swirls

speckled with salt

and glistening in the light of the moon

not a moment too soon

gestalt therapy and an agressive shrink

convinces me that everything has been

my fault

and a priest brings me to my knees

to confess the sin of not confessing

...go to hell!

i’ll meet you there.

washing (hands)

2011-09-02T09:55:00.000-07:00

washing my hands maniacally

repeatedly trying- seemingly in

vain, futiley- to get them clean

of all this blood

and love

is dripping from the little ‘life’ lines,

the cracks in my hands and screaming

laughs/laughter at me

oh god! please, put me on the nod-

this shit isn’t strong enough and now

it is all gone and the dealer’s office is

closed till 10:00 am in the morning

i am mourning

oh god all this blood

all this love

so let me get this straight- sorry i am, i

have a tendency/a leaning towards being

‘gay’ in fact my step-dad used to say that

the only thing about me that was straight

was my teeth...cus he spent all that money

on braces- so, n-e way let’s clear this up

once

and for

all [this blood! and love!]:

my life, our lives can’t be

like rap songs, like these

movies i see on the big

shiny screens?

yr heart isn’t racing

because of these skin-tight

jeans tonight

you aren’t dreaming

of me

dreaming

of you?

tell me

isn’t

true?

what am i going

without

you

what am

i going to

do without

sleep

i can’t dream...

[and...these hands, those manos

are still unclean, still dirty

and all this pain is seeping out from

the inside; can’t be contained, also

it smells like cocaine outside

tonight

i want to die,

i wish to hide

my messy hide].

intellectually stagnate galaxy

2011-09-02T09:53:00.001-07:00

Can it still be referred to as a hat trick even if you miss three times in a row? O, woe are the many inhabitants of this city- watch, look- as they hurry scurry rat-like through traffic lights in beetle-like vehicles. Sipping coffee, chewing toffee, laughing, talking into plastic, doing anything- anything!- but thinking. For thoughts never got anybody anywhere pretty. This may be why they recede and recline into sofa's and TV glows swilling alcoholic beverages in bedclothes- anything to numb the brain, anything to dull the pain. O! woe are the many inhabitants of the many cities existing in this seemingly infinite- unfortunately intellectually stagnate- galaxy.

timeout

2011-09-02T09:53:00.000-07:00

back when i still thought to love meant to conquer

and i would kill for a dollar

before voice, before i had a choice

or the illusion of freedom

to rejoice in the acquisition of a salt

and pepper feather

or the sweaty sweet smell of my

grandfather's grey hair

on rainy day go to school late

mondays

and i failed at loving her

i broke the promise i made to myself

then locked my mind in hell

put myself in time out

with no way out

elephant

2011-09-02T09:52:00.000-07:00

cars with trunks in the front

elephants that can

paint with their

trunks

seahorses: the male’s the one

that gets fucked then has

the kid

and joke all you want

but it’s not

funny

and we’re not getting

younger any.

i wonder

will we die of old age

hunger or thirst first?

i need new-

a haircut isn’t enough;

a different haircut

no longer cuts it

a change of venue, possibly-

a different avenue of being

i must indeed pursue

and soon

if i want to save any decency

in me; if i am to redeem any

shred of sanity

president

2011-09-01T12:22:00.000-07:00

stop

sign

the dotted line,

dead and pregnant women

can still give birth in

the coffin

imagine

your tragic lover

being buried

under your covers

would you ever

recover?

ii.

mor-bid

on it

until

you

win

iii.

when a person is dead

and covered in salt

the corpse doesn’t

decompose

iv.

if it’s not your fault

then whose is it?

and isn’t it

easier to

blame

yourself

than forgive?

i could’ve been

‘the president’

but i chose

to love you

instead

vi.

if it’s all in your head

what isn’t?

vii.

better off wishing you were dead

society's anxiety

2011-09-01T12:21:00.000-07:00

knee deep in society’s anxiety

reading a history of history

feeling as if each page

i turn burns and the words

suffer a rebirth like a phoenix

say it like you mean it; if it’s

dirty clean it- don’t be afraid

it wasn’t until i was put in this

cage that i was set free

so terribly busy trying to be something or somebody

different that you forget who you are becoming

until it is unbecoming

heavy metal

2011-05-06T12:11:00.001-07:00

help me help myself

the most long-term, detriment

to my health is mental

heavy metal music plays on the airwaves

as we breathe heavy metal particles

from the air through our nostrils

are runny, eyes are bloody and dry-

too dry to cry

too high to get high

and, alas, you are too gone for me

to say goodbye

deeply broken

2011-04-28T08:54:00.001-07:00

life hasn’t changed

in a bad way

but, it is

all a joke anyway

isn’t it?

so chuckle, giggle

with me

from afar then

get yr gun, get them

bullets

then

shoot that star

so by the time it falls

i’ll be able to make

a wish on it

i’ll wish for thicker skin,

i’ll wish for broken

condoms

to mend

and big condominiums

to at once come to an

end

and the wave of gentrification

to wash away as we surf it

to oblivion

and the black folk laugh at

us then cuss that we are

half-breed faggots

which, is, alas

better than

being maggots

in the dead

decomposed flesh

wounds

don’t hurt as much

as the sting left

by the absence

of your touch

wish they made

band-aids

for the broken hearted

wish i was amongst

the departed

but suicide would be

not only retarded

(as in slow) but

redundant

cause i am already dead

or at least:

no longer living;

once upon a time (like a year ago) i

seriously thought i’d die from old

age at twenty-four

now i realize life

not lived

is synonymous with death

yet

still

i feel

your hot kiss

on these cold

lips-

so, pick your nose

then pick up three

poker chips:

one blue, one white, one red

or tattoo the american flag

(in colour) on your former

lover

and make a bet

throw those dice

in my eyes

hope that all three

of them land on

six

then with the money you win

buy me a quick fix

and cry tears of regret

that a quick fix

could never mend

the deep wound

of the deeply

broken.

lungs and evergreen trees

2011-01-14T10:05:00.001-08:00

we drink

to

get drunk,

we eat

till

we’re stuffed

we smoke ‘em while we got ‘em
and say ‘who gives a fuck’

to our

lungs

we are old

yet feel
and
act

young

when we are told
to walk

we always
run

late night imaginary pillow fights-

you are on top of me
and we

are

talking

till

3 or 4

in the morning

watching delicate deer
feet

go prancing
through

the dew

on the football field grass
which has been

surrounded
by

evergreens

since

the day
you

turned
23

count yr blessings

2010-12-17T10:07:00.001-08:00

count yr blessings y
cut yr losses

in twos then
in threes

lose yr keys y
bend yr knees

then

begin

praying

4

4giveness

for

forty days y forty
nights 2 git it
right

as rain

with

no more
pain is

how you
long to be

but nobody
seems to b

listening

it seems yr
wishes r
empty,

it seems those pennies
just lay at the bottom of
those wells without
being collected

it seems the stars
are falling ‘n
shooting

you in the feet

sos u can’t even
seem 2 run
away

...the sun seems extra hot today

is just the same as yesterday
and tomorrow will probably
be identical to today

is a day you wish you could wish
away but alas, you can’t

alas,

love is real- no, love is the only
reality and if you keep
avoiding it,

if you persist, insist, and continue
2 ignore her calls, her lines, her
whines, her pleas

then you will end up
just like this: on yr
knees- praying or
sucking- for an
eternity

now, we don’t want that
to happen, now do we?

didn’t think so- so go,
so run into the sun,
don’t worry bout gettin’
burnt, it won’t matter
where yr goin- it
doesn’t matter

what you look like,
what you did or
didn’t do (is all
that means a
damn thing) n

heaven- so run,
so go, so hurry!
quickly

godspeed

my lil’ darling,

godspeed.

and if you hear that pay-phone,
or yr pay-as-you-go telefono
ringing as you go

then answer it! damn it
all to hell, if she rings
yr doorbell

answer her! let love in,
let her in, and then
begin to begin

over and over again
with no end- yet
this time

it’ll be

a blessing

in disguise

is

still
a

blessing.

[‘n it’s nothin’ that no
doctor is going to fix,

just remember/don’t
forget it].

40 bucks 4 a dub sack/let me in 'n take me back, please

2010-12-17T10:05:00.001-08:00

my best friend
whom

looks like my ‘mirror image’
my exact opposite

except in a reversed prism
perspective-

see, he is light and i am dark;

her is blond y i’m brunette,

he is day ‘n i am night,

he is the salt, me i’m the pepper

she is the sweet ‘n (always) i’m
the sour

however, we have strayed- i
have went off on
a tangent-

the point is this: my best friend in
the whole wide world

of tucson

jest

gave me money he could’ve spent-

he sold a dub-sack for forty dead presidents
then gave them

to me

in order 2 fund my crazy, half-baked
non-drug induced

trip

from tucson, az

all the way 2 my so-called baby
in austin, texas

...this is...that was...it is
currently the second

worse decision i’ve ever made;

so, i’m writing this poem as a reminder:
never follow yr heart literally when
and/or (y/o) if it

requires u 2 chase yr desires
by hoping a plane, train,
grey-

hound bus ‘n cussing very loudly-
regardless of women or babies
being present- due to the pain

u r experiencing- for once more physically
than emotionally/psychologically- over

and over again- shooting like strikes,
like bolts of lightning issued directly

from the muscular/un-merciful hand
turned fist of zeus

the raindrops- yr tears- r falling
as yr phone isn’t ringing, meaning
she isn’t calling...

you swear that it is the sound of zeus
laughing at yr misery, not thunder
clapping, rumbling so very

exquisitely y morbidly loudly
overhead

you try to close yr red eyes in order to keep
from crying so noticeably

only that only
makes it ten
times (if not
a whole lot
more) worse

because the first thing you witness with eyelids
shut is her in bed with him ‘on top’ busting
a nut all over her pale white (in the moon-
light) chest

as she fakes an orgasm

and he believes it

your eyes pop/slam back open,

you nod yr brains which reside inside
yr throbbing head

and wish you were dead-

unfortunately, you think aloud (and the woman sitting
next to you, who is heading south to see her grand-
daughter get baptized in holy water or something,
looks at you as if you were/are crazy,

scoots a little bit further away from u
until her right cheek is literally pressed
up against the window’s glass
pane-

the pain becomes even more unbearble
as she gives you an awful ‘once-over’
at least three times,

coughs as if clearing her throat, sighs,
shakes her head, then makes sure
her purse is very secure upon her
shoulder-

while passing through boulder, co
you begin to feel colder ‘n colder

than you ever- previously- thought
possible; you are almost so darn
cold that you are hot

you take yr sweater y yr peacoat
off...

you try not to watch yr watch, look up then
see a clock chugging along and seeming
to mock you with it’s malicious ‘tick-tock,
tick-tock’

you reach into yr left-foot sock then think:
‘thank god my dope is still in tact’

you finger the black tar heroin between yr
pointer finger ‘n yr thumb

you smile, for a while you had forgotten u
even had the heroin in yr possession-

now, for some dumb reason, everything
that seemed inevitable ‘n horrible
two minutes ago

seems like just a joke...

in your right-foot sock there is a tiny
baggie of coke...

you almost shout aloud with glee, with
pure joy in anticipation for such un-pure,
dirty pleasure about to be experienced

you excuse yrself to the frightened woman
who is now knitting fiercly ‘n pretends
not to see or hear yr farewells

n’ apologies

as you r chopping up a line to mix with
the heroin (which is already prepared,
ready ‘n waiting in a silver spoon
resting atop the toilet seat) the
train makes a sudden and abrupt

stop...

....yep, all that drug gets wet then flushed
down the toilet ‘n then out into oblivion...

u just stand there and stare- mouth wide
open, eyes even wider

and with

pupils completely dilated
u wish for a genie in
a bottle or a lamp

like in alladin

then u wish that that genie would grant
you at least two wishes;

yr first wish would b 2 flush all this love
you hold so tightly, so much of inside
yr body for an unrequited love

just like those drugs and never have it,
or memories of that relationship
(or ‘romance’ as she put it)

surface ever, ever again

yr second wish would b
for the genie to bring
u more

heroin- an unlimited supply,
in fact

because, you laugh, it seems that
if i’m already dying i might as well
be pain-free and enjoying

my last few days

as much as the opiates will possibly
let me....

let me?

let me in

let me in please?

let me in and take me back, please?

i’m on my knee (the one left that
isn’t damaged too badly) beggin’

you to

trust in me, believe in me,
let me let you back in

let me let you
erase the fact
that we’re
‘through’

let’s take back the past- do the math,
subtract a whole bunch of junk y crap
then add, add, and add

nothing but love, 'n positive feelings
forever and forever ever

amen

doesn’t have to be
the end

does it?

my best friend
whom

looks like my ‘mirror image’
my exact opposite

jest charged an idiot 40 bucks
for a dub-sack, then gave it 2
me in order 2 assist me in

my mission of ‘winning’ and/or
‘getting’ you back for
ever and ever

amen

vinegar

2010-12-17T10:04:00.001-08:00

it’s

all

our

fault-

eating vinegar y salt

potato chips

with

a

cut

in my lips

conjunction/female dog

2010-12-17T10:03:00.000-08:00

and

i

am

beginning

with

this

conjunction...but,

jest listen

for a second:

maybe i am an
endangered
species

‘the last’ of a breed,
pero that doesn’t
mean i’m not
going to go

out with a bang
me

then leave me
be

and leave fifty
c-notes on
the bedside
table

y don’t forget yr coat
or to leave me a few
smokes

what’a do?

what’d i ever do
to you?

apparently
it is called/
named

a ‘hood’ only/solamente,
cus there are no neigh-
bours just enemies

and a justice
that comes
at such

a quick speed
that we’ve not
even time
to touch

the weapon
on our hip

before somebody gets
hit, before someone
gets done and spent

my second to last dime
on a crime, now i’m
literally broke

and broken
hearts

and/or scars
don’t get one
too far-

a gun and two bullets
and possibly a packet
of speed (for energy)
are all i need

to get even-

ain’t it odd? i mean i’m not god
and i am not a female dog

only

thing

is

i certainly
feel like
one of
‘em

tonight-

you guess

which...

p.s. tell yr bf (boyfriend) to call an
ambulance stat (fast!) cus pretty
soon he’s gun have

two broken legs, three broken
wrists and his face is gun’ git
its first period...

period.

el fin,

the end.

oops, pee-pee s:

i be what they call a c.c.-
a colourful charachter

i got plenty, i gots more
than enuff to share or
jest give away for free

me from this cell, this prison,
this awful disgusting dungeon

you’ve trapped, locked (‘n
threw away the key) me in

please? hurry- quick, see i
can’t take it any longer, i
can’t deal with the absence
of yr touch much more

and more and more than most
people can afford- pero/but
see you are what they call
a b.b.g.e- which means:

beautiful, best, gurl ever-
sos i know for sure

that yr worth fighting for,
however- i’m a lover
more than i am
a fighter

and i want this war
to be over,

so- like i said before- hurry,
quickly come over ‘n
bring the key

to free me

from this god awful,
ugly place

‘n let me see yr face,
i don’t give a _____

[but i’ll certainly give you
one...or two or (better yet)
three]

if it’s ugly or dirty

as long as i can see it,
as long as i can kiss
yr lips

then that’s all that matters
to me, all that matters
to me

is love y laughter

so, hurry...quickly...run,
come with force and
speed (of course) i’m

gettin’ sick
n tired

of waitin’

but

i

will

just

promise

not, jest

promise

you won’t

stand

me

up

k?

thanks.

cancer pt. 2

2010-12-17T09:58:00.001-08:00

always, apparently, at least a buck fifty
short and decades ‘way too’ late-

yeah, i knicked and i knacked
we (both) ‘paddy-whacked’
and gave the dog a bone

yet still: a phone which never
rings with yr number on the
caller i.d. screen

when it is truly you-

some fool decided to try
to ‘high-jack’ my life

and really just caused me
pain,strife, unnecesary
(additional) heartache
and sabatoged

any chance

i ever had-

i am a sad sad sad (wo)man,

please

take pity on me

and shove it
where the
sun does
not wish

to shine;

next time you call, which most
likely will be never, take a
guess as to whether
or not i’ll even

answer...

(p.s. fuck cancer)

cancer

2010-12-17T09:57:00.001-08:00

cancer

cancer

cancer-

hell
is
the
absence
of
god

and
god
‘is’
love

therefore, believe me
(darling) when i say
to you (the truth);

since you left
me i have
been

in purgatory
at best

and on fire,
so hot i’m
freezing
cold

in this beauty-less
pit of misery
infinite

yet complete-

i can not compete
with _________

and i am beginning
to realize this:

no answer is
an answer.

cancer
cancer
cancer.

swim

2010-12-17T09:53:00.000-08:00

so sick of havin’ 2 pretend
that i don’t still love you,

that i don’t care; that i
wouldn’t walk through
fire, swim through shit

and glass barefooted n’ naked
for

you

anymore;

that my gums, my hair follicles,
my pores

were/are so sore

so i confessed
it all; i took
the big

plummet,

the long
and hard

fall-

i put mi corazon on
this primary coloured;
primitive blue, yellow,
and red plastic
table

i poured my heart
out ‘n in through
a funnel;

i let the light
i’ve trapped
inside

the end of that tunnel
come rushing, come
flooding, come
undulating

out in 2 the open-

you rejected it; you
refused everything;
every inch of it
you

dismissed.

...the absence of yr presence/the opposite
of yr kiss...and, o! what pain! and, no! woe
is me

[times infinity, then multiplied by pregnant
threes [i.e. 3, 6, 9, 12, 15, etc.]

you shot me down

you shot me straight down

from my proud cloud,
so hard i fell

into the vast, expansive ocean
of your eyes, of yr existence-

i fell from so high in this night sky,
so far,

far

down

into
then
through
the
ground

now my eyes are so sore
‘n so perpetually closed-

i am a mole; i’ve taken refuge
in this hole

of

confused thought, of confusion
that i’m not allowed, not
permitted to exit-

you’ve hollistically
trapped me in

without

a clue
as
2

how to get out-

at least not
how 2
exit,

to escape
to the
other
side

alive.

there’s no real way to survive
this imprisonment, y certainly
no means to thrive

in

such an
antithesis
of heaven

which

offers nothing
much

save

gretel & hansel’s bread crumbs,
left-over left-overs 4 lunch, ‘n
a bunch of screaming banshees
in misery

nobody

nobody

to share my/this burden with,
only infinite seconds 2 add
to it...

forever and forever
times infinity

we race at a snail speed,
in slow motion towards
being free

yet we

never

succeed-

once you go so far
the ‘level’ is complete
and then this sick game
simply resets, simply
repeats

until
we

are each
at ‘ground
zero’

[literally y figuratively]

with nowhere
to go but
back
down
down
and
down

deeper
into our
infamy,

further
into the
opposite
of a frown.

pieces (birthday present placeholder pt. 1)

2010-12-14T09:56:00.002-08:00

picking up the pieces

as this season doesn’t
begin

its changes

‘sweating buckets’ in
december

which is causing opiates [/methadone]
to exit my system quicker

wish you’d phone, wish you two
would exit my system
in these sweat trails

and entrails too-

sorry for the sordid/nasty
details boo,

but it’s true-

you do believe me,
don’t you?

as i pack, i realize
(tonight) that

the future/present
is so ‘compact’

whereas the past

is big, clunky, ugly,
mean

and (nearly) extinct/
irrelevant

yet, i admit,
vcrs, cds, you
[/our love]

holds some
‘mystique’

something

‘lovely and unique’

...i’m going to need you

to ‘say something’ [listen to
song of same name by drake]
soon....

it doesn’t have to be perfect
[n-e thing from yr lips is,
regardless- it’s music
to my ears to be able
to hear yr silence]

i worry yr friends, etc don’t have yr best
interest at heart

when we are apart

art turns to trash ‘n i fight not to crash
my car into the opposite of light...

are you alright?

whoever
you
are,

wherever
you
are

my shining
star/

the ‘bestest’
by far.

talk dirty/gay (birthday present placeholder pt. 3)

2010-12-14T09:55:00.001-08:00

everybody reload-

...i like it when
you talk ‘dirty’
to me

even an unplugged
clock can be ‘right’
twice a day

i’m gay

my father will say,
at my funeral, ‘i
loved my dead
gay daughter’

but in life, he hates my guts
and wishes i read the bible
more- or jest became
fodder

for his ‘holy empire’ fires.

‘enter the dragon’ and holy
rolling empires; watching

bruce lee

makes me
want to
eat

‘chinese’

to be
able
to

pick the rice up
with chopsticks-

you taught me how to dine
in nice, semi-expensive
restauraunts....

i’m not sure if
you are even
aware of it/
this

but i’d just watch
what you did/talk
like you talked

to the waiter- i
even learned to
tip from you,

luckily, for college students/
single wo/men across this
continent, across the u.s.

you were a good tipper-

thanks, by the way;
how are you
feeling

today?

i’m not really doing so
okay; my tummy
is killing me

do you still drink
that nettle-tea
concoction?

i wish i weren’t up for auction-
i feel like a slave standing on
a modern-day auction
block

for the broken-hearted;
some type of like
‘rehabilitation’
facility or a

half-way home or something
and, well, i’m for ‘sale’
i’m ready to be bid on,

only thing is....

nobody wants
this

mess

i am forced to call
myself

on the phone, on my
cellular/mobile tele-
phone

and leave messages,
i even send myself
texts

cus’ well, if i didn’t
nobody would-

i do not feel so hot,
i really don’t feel
that good...

uh oh

spaghetios...

bad back (birthday present place holder pt. 4)

2010-12-14T09:53:00.001-08:00

bad back,

heart attack-

the birds and the bees
can have it back
please

the naked city
seems

twice as pretty
tonight

with/con u/tu
by

my

side

no need 2 hide,
absolutely no
reason 2 run

towards the moon
then jog into the
sun

n write my name
on its rays

or go to the pacific ocean
catch a wave then tattoo
my face in the wake

of things to come-
take a holiday

and get yr hand all lubed y
wet y ready 2 mutually
masturbate

in accordance
with fate-

u can wear/use a snake
o better yet an anaconda!

i don’t wanna

lose u again
my friend, so
that is why i’m

gluin’ u 2 my side/
alongside my hip

just like we are conjoined
twins-this way, everybody
wins! today,

yay! hip-hip-hooray!

chow mein/more is less (birthday present place holder pt. 5)

2010-12-14T09:52:00.001-08:00

reading other people's,
other lover's, love
letters

while smoking
things i make
by hand

and

eating chow mein-

staring at my vein...

[dot, dot, dot]

‘n ain’t it in-sane
these african gods
hidden within
catholic saints?

feel no evil, see no pain

this isn’t a game;

you light my flame; i ignite
yr fuse- one and one plus
another one equals two.

santeria and a margarita,
with big blue ice cubes-

i’m confused;

st. st.

or

st. st.

i mean,

st. elizabeth- what does she
do?

after ingesting then digesting
[after a sorry attempt at a
chew] our first ‘real food’

we cop

an attitude

at the cops

for being
so mean,

for being
so rude,

i mean

what did

we ever do

to

you

miss?

[i think, it seems that st. elizabeth
probably- most likely- has nothing
to do

with

forgiveness]

regardless,

for give me?

more is less.

dead (birthday present place holder pt. 6)

2010-12-14T09:51:00.001-08:00

my body

my little big dead body

is strong

and still feisty,
still naughty

as i wake from a sleep
of no dreams or any
thing

but you and me

and i

am guided
by

a light

that

only

lover’s

can see- (i ate, we prayed, we loved but what

do you see it?

can you see me?

do you feel this?

when you are walking
like a hand slipped
accidentally in
yours as we
stroll

imaginary

through
a
hall

of nobody

but old photos
of you and me
and a baby

and what could
have been if
you would
have

if’d-

i stumble
blindy
in
pain
yet
happy
lucky
and
free

towards
the light
you never
wanted
me
to
see

can you feel me?

do you see me?

can you feel my tiny
bony sick hand
slipped in
yours?

as
we
embrace-
to face
our fears

and stumble
blindly, tread
lightly

into a sleep
with no
dreams

into
an

infinity

where
you
are
and
will
always
be

with
me.

excercise/jokes y stuff (birthday present placeholder pt. 7)

2010-12-13T19:49:00.000-08:00

i’m allergic to exercise; i start breaking out ‘n sweating ‘n gettin’ hot flashes-

the way u moved towards our future love/romance was so not okay; u
acted as if u were molasses traveling down the side of an evergreen

n mid-february...

whereas i was and still am- though admittedly to a much lesser degree-

cracked, methed, sped up

over our/this love

love,

let us

start over

let us

begin again

we can even pretend
that we just met

we can even reconfigure
our figures, reinvent our
minds, redesign our
destinies

rebuild each and every flaw 2 our personalties,
erase then replace our ill-fated fates

with lucky, happy, y free
realities

see, we love one another-
see-mira, mira- look

we can certainly, most definitely re-write this book,
we can absolutely tear out every unwanted or
unnecessary page until we create

a story we would long, we would want
to read

and we can flip our book’s leaves simultaneously
until we

end up on the same page

atop this same sane stage
we can feel our sanities

beginning to slip
into an oblivion
of innocence

lost, sin got, ‘n beauty forgot-
en

so let’s confess our sins, write out our crimes
on this asphalt, upon the pavement

in blood

let’s etch our dreams in vegan ice cream
then leave the quart-size cartoon
out in the sun

let’s use what is left of our blood
to compose a sonnet, no- a
symphony atop this city
street

then come nighttime
we can

highlight our good and
honourable intentions

let’s copy then
paste it

to our foreheads; tattoo this on our ribs,

chop it all up into little tiny whiny pieces
then eat it, then regurgitate everything

mix it in this here blender

strain it in that there strainer

then drink it down after mixing
a cocktail using ‘it’ as the
main ingredient

we promise that you’ll ‘feel it’ we recommend
drinking/eating this connoisseurs concoction
at least three times a day-

once each moment before brushing teeth

and it certainly wouldn’t hurt if you awoke
from a deep sleep, fumbled for the keys,
then stumbled into the kitchen

jest to open the fridge then drink
the remnants of ‘it’

accident (birthday present placeholder pt. 8)

2010-12-13T19:48:00.000-08:00

i am

we

are

an

accident

waiting,
begging,
dying

to

happen.

and

it’s

happening...

there is nothing
we can do, it
seems/at least,
to make it quit

to stop it

to cease

and desist

please?

yr hurting
me

yr killing
what is
already
dead

you are kicking
me while i am
down

on the ground

with blood
and love

gushing
from
my heart,
my soul,

my mouth

is sore

and i don’t want,
i can’t afford

to chew on
this b.s.
anymore

so please,
darlin’, i’m
on my knees

yet again

begging

for you to
put me

out of my misery
to put me back
in yr pocket,

back in yr locket,
back in yr mind,
yr head

and let me in,

let me love you?

if not

then let me
move and
get on

with my life

or with my death

whichever
it is

whatever will be

doesn’t seem to be...

occuring,

in reverse

in pros or in verse

i curse in cursive
as i write you my
life story

in three or four (actually)
words on this torn
forlorn sheet
of dirty paper:

she doesn’t love me.

post script: i wish
that somebody
would have told
me before this
minute/second/
moment
the following:

rap songs are wrong
and country songs
never happen like
‘that’ and movies
fed us full’a white
lies and garbage
re: living life
and loving
and husbands
and marriage
and asking
her to be
yr wife.

would have saved me a lot’a
trouble, pain, sleepless nights,
loss, and strife and much such.

(and not sure why i always have to remind
my mind to ‘begin stopping’ vs. ‘quitting’
i guess cus once i read that yr brain
responds to negativity/enforcement
and blocks out the positive when
it is presented post/after
a negative...like, for example/
instance: this sentence, ‘don’t
love me’...would read ‘love me’

so

actually

don’t love me?)

praying in the barn/four-alarm fire/happy birthday

2010-12-04T22:29:00.000-08:00

praying in the barn,

no cause for a
four-alarm

fire

[to burn down this
so-called ‘empire]

flesh cut,

red blood,

love ‘n desire-

[wallowing in
the mire]

‘i don’t give a fuck!’

you scream[ed] from
inside my ’89 pick-up
truck

as we stay
out too late

driving each other
insane,

driving to circle-k,

no, i mean driving
to every 7-11

in sight/we can find

cus’ it is july 11th
and they’re givin’
slurpies away
for free-

dom is in the way
you make
me cum;

liberty is in my fingertips
pressed in yr hips, in yr
pinched skin during sex;

the ‘pursuit of happiness’
and justice can be found
in the sound

my lips make when
pressed against
yr lips

are so soft-

i long to kiss

infinity with
yr hand
holding
mine;

with our bodies
forming spoons
as we sleep
beneath
many,
many,

moons-

if you forgive
me right this
second it

wouldn’t

be a moment
too soon-

red, white, ‘n blue-

i jest don’t have a clue,
i jest don’t know what
to do

tonight

i tattoo yr name
on my right leg,
inside the thigh

‘n wonder why? then
cry

while i

apologize

to every single star in
the night sky

then wish you were here
with me

underneath this expansive,
wide black canopy

if so, i wouldn’t need
any of these falling/
shooting stars-

praying in the barn,

no cause for alarm-

santa claus doesn’t
exist-

happy birthday! [save it/this
for or until december 11th]

if you let me,
i’ll wrap my
naked body

then let you open
me/be yr present-

at present i am praying
[repeatedly; for you
to come rescue, to
cum, to cum and
marry me/the same
things] over and
over again

in this barn,

no cause for alarm;

[the scars on my arms]

there aren’t, there isn’t
any such thing as a
lucky

charm-

and even though they don’t
exist i count my lucky
stars and charms
tonight

i

am

on my knees

with my left hand
extended, palm
open bearing/
offering

you the keys
to my heart

[believing is art;
have faith in me
please?]

take them, take these
keys, pretty darling

then
get

in

‘n drive me from crazy
to sane, drive me/take
me, take me out of
misery

and pain/out of this
acid-rain existence
and in

to a game, a fate
that is beautifully
different-

where we will always
win, where we will
always forgive,

where we will never
ever forget

to ‘say it’...

i love you,

whether or not
it is requited-

whether the weather
is cold or hot,

whether we are sick
or well [have our
health]

whether we’re poor or
have wealth/can afford
the world, this galaxy...

i love you

regardless

of whether or not
you marry me

i am not
going

to

take off

this ring

[as long as
i am alive]

i promise
thee.

black house/dandelion/chicago

2010-12-04T22:24:00.000-08:00

‘n let’s purchase the white house with
‘drug money’ then paint that ish
black...

i’ll move in my stuff- my stereo, my subwolfers,
my speakers, my pot plants, my crack,
my teflon, my ak 47’s, my automatics,
my pyrex ‘n bakin soda...

we’ll turn the presedential lawn
into the crack spot/'n if it gets
hot we’ll move it to the trap

at the pentagon,

together, you and i, will be
young forever and ever

you bring the steak knife
and i

will bring the fork-

afterwards, after work

we can fork (then spoon,
not a moment too soon)

in the dark- then we will take airforce
one’s helicopter over to ‘camp david’
or pack then have a picnic

at the washington monument;
we’ll fuck under the liberty
bell- which is cracked

but still rings for ‘freedom’

never dumb; our brains
will rain acidic power

on the hour every hour

the cia, and the secret service
will be forced to wipe
our asses

with only the best- only the finest
linens, the most authentic
imported silks

we will buy whatever we want ‘n
still have enough money ‘left-
over’ to donate to every
charity we desire

then we will set fire to tons of bills;
to as many dead presidents as
we wish

just to ‘make a statement’ against
this government, an anti-capitalist
demonstration...

then we will get down to the real business,
with no hesistation we'll let the penetration

begin

as you get on top of this pony
and we have a ‘one-night-
rodeo’ puttin on a show

for the first lady and her husband-

it’ll be so hot ‘n steamy [whether
the weather is below zero, wintry
or not] that they’ll desire

to join in, yet we’ll deny access-
light another fire

and sip- only the greatest, the finest,
the most vintage/aged- wines

‘n i’ll eat rice cheese as you- after
having worked up an appetite
fucking me- dine on million
dollar cheeses and the
most expensive meats

in existence-

then you’ll lean over and kiss
me on the lips, put your hand
on my chest- between my
breasts- and whisper

‘i love you- there is
nowhere else i’d
rather be

than right here with you next to
and/or on top/underneath me”

i will smile, a smile to end all smiles
then recline with my hands behind
my head

and go to sleep
with no need
to dream-

because i’ve already found, have,
and own everything i’ll ever
want or need-

then wake up and do it all over again
and again and again for an infinite
amount of tommorows

are/will no longer be a cause for anxiety

only something to look forward to with
absolute excitement and delight;

the future will be something we
rush into happily with no worries
except that we will die
suddenly

and not be able to experience
all the world’s, all of life’s
beauty

yet, actually, even that thought is
not anywhere near tragic

for believing is art and love is magic
and since we believe in an ‘after-
life’ and we feel we’ve done
so many/enough good deeds,

since we feel that we have lived
our lives to the fullest- never
holding back, always willing
to experience ‘the new’

always impulsive yet sensitive
to the consequences
of our actions,

since we have been ‘the best persons’
we could have been

we are ready to die whenever our time
comes, whenever our clocks strike
‘the end’ we will go willingly

and contentedly into the darkness
of the ‘ultimate’ tunnel,
towards the light

with pure delight; our only so-called ‘worry’
our only apprehension comes from, lies
within the fact that we may not ‘go’
at the same time-

for to imagine a life without you, having
to live with the presence
of your absence

is absoluteluy morbid; sounds like
torture, sounds like an endless
night with no sleep

sounds like being immortal
with nothing to look forward
to but torture

for an eternity- so, hopefully
‘god’/a higher being willing

we will die at the same time,
we will leave/exit this life
simoltaneously

holding eachother tight
as we sleep the final
sleep

as we venture into the darkness
of an infinite night

together, in each others arms-
wrapped tight in our love
and our respect, our
passion for one
another-

together forever-

you and i will be young
forever

and ever

and we
will

never ‘want for nothing’
we will never need
a damn thing

as long as we
have each
other

then everything will be ‘gravy’
then every day will be
worth living, then every
scrap, every inch, every
second will be worthy

of saving

your life (from premature, drug
induced death) was the best
(excuse my language) fuck-
ing thing i’ve ever did/done

and we become one as we cum
simoltaneously beneath
this sun’s heat

on a sheet slightly, gently
swaying in the breeze
beneath the weight

of our naked bodies,
as we make love,
then fuck, then
make love

four hours on end
below the sun’s
rays, on this
sheet

in the middle of the day,
in the center of this
cemetery

in chicago

the wind blows
and we

certainly

do not need
a weather
wo/man

to tell us, to inform us
of which way

the wind is
blowing

the tiny white ‘leaves’
of this dandelion;

we sip wine

from the same cup
then wish that
our love

will always be
enough

and that enough
will never be
enough

and that too much
will never be
too much

as long as we
forgive, cherish
and respect

one another-

o! lover, if i could pause this
‘game’ called life, if i could
‘freeze’ this moment for an
infinite amount of time

you bet your bottom dollar
that i would- alas, life/living
is not a nintendo game

there exists no 'reset'
button

and we are playing- always-
for keep

my heart safely
inside/within
yours

my love, my life

and make sure that the next time
you cry you catch those tears
in a glass then pass
it

to me

to drink,

please?

un-hypnotized/johnny cash/george strait/waylon jennings

2010-12-04T22:23:00.000-08:00

johnny cash

dressed all in
black

will you catch
the boquet

on my wedding day?

so far s/he’s only said
‘no way’ but i’m
hoping- against

all hope (i know)- that
that will change

i mean, straight or gay
love is love anyway
right?

o, tonight...tonight
i wish i could make
the wrongs right

tonight i pray
that yesterday
can still be
erased

and tomorrow i know, already/before
hand, that i will awake with a belly
full of sorrow and a headache
throbbing in the key of c-

like a sax blowing ‘regret, regret,
regret’ in this discordant way,
with some concept of
melancholy

my six string will say, to me, ‘stick
to/with the melody, kid- you keep
straying from the ‘bigger picture
darwinism shit’ into the blackness

of some type of tragic shakespeerean
b.s...life is too short to be so dramatic,
so emphatic, so much like some dumb
greek tragedy- it’s time to be roman-
violent, un-emotional, and pragmatic-
got it, kid?’

o, my eyes! my eyes! my eyes hurt, my
eyes are sore- from staring at a closing
door, or rather a door that is closed and
not opening-

o, my thighs! my thighs! my thighs are
burning with desire, it is like there is
a fire inside of my/‘in between my
legs’ that begs for yr tongue’

o, i wish we were- i wish we could
still be- young, that way i would
mount a white horse (with a
white dove stuck to an olive
branch in my pocket) then
ride

and ride and ride
till i was/am by
yr side-

this is my last
one-night
stand

on yr own two feet
and tell me, please
pretty please

the following:

can you, i mean- can i
be ‘un-hypnotized’?

insert a line re: writing
poetry,

then insert an additional
line on the topic of love
‘n my ex

whom lives, currently, in
texas

which

i believe, is a fact- is
something george
strait would

‘preciate- o, if only
waylon jennings
could see

me now; somehow
even though i’ve
lost all but one
of

my ‘marbles’ i’ve still
got a sick, scrawny
(yet fit- with excellent
‘definition’) chest
full’a love

simon says/el fin

2010-12-04T22:20:00.002-08:00

que sera, que sera

whatever will be...

you didn’t say ‘simon says’ when
you told me to never phone again,

you didn’t say ‘please’ when you
brought me to my knees, threw
away my keys (to yr place) and
told me to never show my face

round town again.

it’s getting cold, again
so i’m headin’ south

...kiss me on the mouth,

‘take care of yrself’

come and build with me; they’ve
knocked my mansion down yet
again

and

again

and again

until we reach the beginning
of the end

my friend,

my friend? what a strange way
to condescend....

i can’t pretend anymore, i can’t lie
any longer- i have love inside
times a trillion and ten

that belongs only to you-
my so-called-friend

tell me,

now that yr dead,
what are you
going to do
with your
life?

how will you continue
living?

thanksgiving in june...
and i am thankful
for you,

whatever, whoever,
you ‘are’

a shining star,
no- you are
my shining
star

and by far the best worst thing
to ever have happened to me.

el fin.

my love/daycare

2010-12-04T22:20:00.001-08:00

it’s like yr mother jest opened up
a daycare even though she does
not even like, let alone love kids

what is

this world
coming to?

what are
you

made
of

my
love

isn’t enough
for us

to be
free

is

it?

two musketeers

2010-12-03T15:49:00.000-08:00

the two musketeers

facing my fears
is easy

compared to living
with

the absence of yr presence-

o, god! it hurts too much;
if only, if only we

could touch...

i’d pack you a lil’ lunch, a lil’
brown bagged lunch

i’d write yr name on the front
and i’d design a smiley face
heart with the ketchup-

i’d give you infinite hugs
y tons y tons (times/
multiplied by forever)
kisses

on yr soft, pudgy cheek;
on yr harlot-red lips;

o, mom! this is so painful-

i’ve got a mouth burnin; on fire
‘n a stomach/belly full of
love ‘n regrets...

listening to patsy cline

y swillin’ wine-

i’m

not

switchin’

from

sober

to drunk

quick
enough

so

i give myself
(another) red
wine enema

‘n pretend
it’s for my
health

is

past

failing-

it’s in last
place

‘n

this is
the ‘last
leg’

of the
race-

quick, hurry,
fast! give me
whiskey
neat

(cus’ everything’s so messy)

with no chase-er,

i need, i must

erase her;

i must,
i need,
i want,
i have
to

git him outta
my system-

therefore,
give me

a colonic,
more/mas
enemas

(coffee this time, please)

y begin to induce
the vomiting,

turn/crank/increase/
escalate

the heat
in this
place

sos i can start
sweating her
outta me-

cut open my chest,
break my ribs,
then remove
my heart

(the shattered, tattered, broken
bent [to pieces] worthless
thing) then
spray it/douse/drench

it

in/with

nitroglycerin

then break it
again

and shove it,
store it
in

a bottle

inside
a bottle

inside
a smaller
even/yet

bottle

then

put it in
a titanium
bullet/fire
proof,

tamper-evident
container,

then put that in
a safe (lose the
key; make it so
nobody knows

the combination

then put that in yet
one more safe

then wrap it in 30 rolls of duct-tape,
tie weights [weighing at least 20
tons] around it

then let’s rent a ship to take us out into
the middle of right where the atlantic
meets the pacific meets the antarctic
meets the indian

ocean

‘n let’s toss it
over the edge

of this
cliff

called ‘reality’

let’s
let
it

sink and sink and sink

until it is a million leagues
under the ‘sea’

then somebody, anybody!
mommy!? please take me
to be hypnotized

so that as long as i’m alive,
every time i

all but think yr name

i’ll suffocate-

so that as long as i’m alive
[which won’t be too long]
every time i

so much as imagine yr name
alongside/combined with/con
love

i

will
feel

a sharp, biting, splicing,
excrutiating pain

originating
in my right
flank

then traveling
down my leg
then up my
spine and
hands

directly
into my
brain-

if this is a ‘game’

i have lost,

i quit,

i forfeit,

i certainly
do not
wish,

do not
have
any

desire [left]
to play...

so-what do you think?
what will you say?

what will you say when my obituary
says you killed me,

when the epitaph
on my grave

says yr name,

says that you made
me yr slave-

tricked me with s-e-x
‘n love everlasting

then disappeared with
barely a trace,

ceased speaking
with me,

gave me the ultimate/deadly
‘silent treatment’, then

denied complete access-

denied me the possibility
to see yr face,

then laughed/lapped it up
pleasurably as you and
‘yr man’ watched

[while munching on corn popped
in the microwave with/con butter
fake] me

fall

from

grace-

what taste
does all
of this
leave
in
yr mouth(s)?

does my defeat
taste sweet on
yr (no longer)
young tongue(s)?

tell me, please, i’m dying (literally)
to know...

2 or Black Friday

2010-11-24T10:44:00.000-08:00

Everyday is ‘Black Friday’
‘n I have no money, no way
2 pay this debt-

I even attempted 2 sell the devil
my soul yet

He didn’t want it;

He even sent
a memo

2 god y all his/her angels,
sayin’ 2 let me go
in

4 heaven

2 grant me permission 2 get in
heaven cus hell didn’t wish
or want

This mess, I call myself, in it
4 an infinite amount of time

Keeps speedin’ by as we collide,
combine then divide soaring

High [in this cotton candy cloud
sky] like kites or more

Like bats blind- relying only on
our ears/sonar since we
can’t see one another

Only hear eachother- into
the future

N’ with broken legs, wrists, wings,
broken-heart-syndrome

I can’t run

I can’t fly

I

Can barely/hardly even walk away
from today, from the past that
had

You

In it-

That past where I could (‘n would)
kiss n’ taste yr face

[So much unedible B.S. on my plate at
the moment that I can’t even seem 2
be able ta say ‘grace’ over it
let alone chew then digest]

Fate is incomprehensible
from where I sit,

Alls I know is that I miss yr everything
y yr face-

Save a space 4 me at that table for two, please?
maybe we can borrow that chair over there
‘n turn this into ‘three’s a party’ type thing-

I’m sicka bein jest another annoying y
loud voice sititn next to you on
the subway

I’m sick’a being the bartender with whom
you experience a petty exchange

Once in a blue moon- love like this can happen
more than twice/over and over again

But jest don’t forget, jest please remember 2 let
lightining strike;

Open yr heart, close yr eyes y yr mind

Darling, y let’s start making
new, true, pretty memories-

I am so sick

I am so tired

I am so sick y tired of being simply
one more boring face on a crowded,
busy street

In a sea of nobody’s

Business means n.e thang 2 me- so I try
to stop listening, keeping these dirty
fingernail fingers ‘n my tiny
yet shiny-clean ears

Then begin mentally fleeing/fleeing mentally-

All my fears culminating, compact
until they jump back into my body
in the form of a tumor,

In the shape of [things 2 come n’ go] a malignant
mass of a lump ‘n my throat

That I choke upon every single night y day

U move further y further y further away
from my mind,

Further from being by my side, further into a hide
y seek reality, a come n’ find me then beg for it
game

U won’t even let me play-

I’ve been ‘warming’ this bench
for an eternity, yet now

It seems that if you won’t put me in/
play me, coach, then I’ll be

Qutting this team- which seems
to be on a losing streak-

[So much for finishing y getting that trophy/
award, I jest can’t afford 2 keep losing…]

‘N hangin’ up this jersey I’ve been wearing
since u left, withought sayin’ goodbye,

Goodbye?

Nobody ever said this would be fun,

It is done:

Hung up that jersey wit ‘Austin/19’ written
on the back of it

Then I take off my black cowboy hat, burry it
in a trash bag

Beneath my empty bed- that u ain’t sleepin in,
for some dumb reason I can’t begin to fathom-

After stuffin said jersey into said trash bag
I then wrap a whole roll of ducttape
around ‘n about it

In order to trap yr essence, yr memory,
everything you mean to me in

‘N to keep memories of u company

I also slip them into that
black trash bag coffin

Under the bed in this jimmy-rigged, d.i.y.,
make-shift dungeon

Where I keep everything you’ve ever given
‘n meant to me

Safely

Bound within lock y key

Ring falling, telephone not ringing-
because you still are not calling

Me!

However, nature is

[She never seems 2 miss an appt.]

So, love of my life, until next time…

[Wish me luck with the toilet/I’m so sick
‘n skinny I very well could fall in it…]

tampon

2010-11-22T12:41:00.000-08:00

they smoke before they go;

then, they soak a tampon in
heroin

‘n stick it up their bums

so when da warden blows da
whistle/pito (en espanol)

they know

it is time 2 go

but they won’t be stopped; they will still
get off/high (like kites entertwined
in a neon sky)

even though locked up/

in prison

all love is tough- if it even exists
to begin with.

my cousin purchased ‘synthetic urine’ in
order to git a job/pass his piss/drug
test-

yr love is da best.

don’t you eva forget it; chase yr dreams,
follow yr heart, n before you stop
do not forget to start.

post-card poetry para mi (come si dice 'unrequited' en espanol, por favor?) amor/corazon

2010-11-22T12:33:00.000-08:00

breakfast in bed

the trick to makin’ love is to be it-
the best tip I can give for a kiss is
to sing it

[‘n always swallow when
givin’ head; none’a this
‘spit’ b.s.]

the secret(s) re: creatin’ the greatest
breakfast are/is as follows:
don’t forget

the way she likes her eggs, put yr f-in
heart y soul ‘n dem hotcakes;

do not, I repeat, do not neglect
to bring it to him in bed

and last, but certainly far from least, fresh
squeeze that o.j./juice and boil then season
them taters before ya fry ‘em!

love y laughter/look mami, no hands!/but it by the gallon
when it’s cheaper by the barrel

you are a shining star

when I’ve everything I could wish for
y more;

you are a fast car which hits green
lights only when I am in a hurry;

you are dreams accomplished, hopes achieved,
‘to-do-lists’ covered with √’s (checks)

letting me know I’ve fulfilled all goals for the week-
you are words of love from
my body

when y if I can’t speak- strength when weak;
a fitted sheet, a down comforter keeping
toes y feet warm w/ incubating,
nurturing, motherly heat

during a snowstorm cold
but full of beauty-

you are a deep replenishing rest w/ pretty
dreams when I can’t sleep-

you mean unique,

you are a gorgeous, lovely, likeable snowflake falling
(peacefully)- you are do-rae-me-fa-so-la-ti; you are
a song I long to sing;

you mean the world to me

you mean galaxies;

you are the everything…

y with the ring of these telephones (travelling through time zones)
I ask thee to marry me, so we can begin living
[all over again and again and again] happy,
free, lucky for ever after

stuffed to the brim, full to the gills with
love y laughter.

a love like ours

the chance of you finding
another love like ours, or/
and a person to/that
love you more than
me are far, far, far
worse than

the odds of a tornado
being capable
of assembling
a Boeing 747
during spring.

[I forgive you, darling, for never seeming
to be able to forgive me]

p.s….and Jesus’ portrait is still crooked

p.p.s. I carved our picture in vegan butter
as a sickening, depressing, yet necessary
reminder that nothing can ever last

p.p.p.s my brother found a ring y gave it to me;
I wear it on my left-hand finger ‘n pretend
we are married- my mother ‘n sisters
gave me pennies shiny;

I threw them in a well then wished you’d come
y rescue me from this hell that you have
trapped me in

the day you ceased speaking-

if only Tibet were free then maybe none’a this
would be happening- unfortunately history
repeats; even in heaven

is

for you ‘n for me ‘n even if
it isn’t, hell will be swell
as long as you are with
me,

darling.

genius

i.when u r my
wife, every
second/each
inch will b

‘a moment of genius’

ii. war isn’t a holy
thing; yet, the majority
of all battles r fought
in ‘the name of god’

iii. me, I’m only fighting
for love’s sake/in love’s
name-please put down
yr weapons, darling, y
surrender to me.

iv. these injuries y wounds
u inflict with this silence
r too much 4 me 2 bear

v. if you marry me
I’ll shave my hair
y tattoo our ring
fingers

and I promise [as much as
ne man/woman/being can]
that I’ll never hurt nor
disrespect u, my majesty

I’ll solely love, protect, support
(emotionally, psychologically,
physically, spiritually) you
until my dying day-

whaddaya say?

birdie

let us fuck
like rabbits
but

love

like penguins
which ‘mate’
and stay

together

for life/forever-

when you are ignoring
me

I wish that I could be
a fish

with a two-second memory
or at the very least
that I could morph

into then be a turtle and/or
tortoise cus’, see, that way
I could spend the day

with my head in my shell
‘n escape/avoid this hell

you’re putting me through;

if I were an ostrich,
if I could stick
my brains

in the dirt/ground/sand
and forget about all this
shit you’ve been

forcing me to eat

yr heart out re: my misery
doesn’t want nor need n.e.
company

simply wings

like a birdie

to fly away from today,
yesterday, a tomorrow
promising to hold

more of the same pain;

fly through yr sky
out of the cold
rain ‘n into

the warmth of our future love
soaring high above this ocean
of our lost innocence.

texas pt.3

in this ‘dat cum’ desert heat,
me: shootin’ a b.b. gun ‘n
tryna think of/become
nothing y nobody

but dreamin’ of you, me, us;
yr harlot red painted lips,
yr little yellow teeth, yr
big flat wide white feet
with

toenails painted jest like those purty lips
of yours; my hand and the curves of yr
hips,

skin pinched during s-e-x

retaining my tiny [yet firm] fingerprint
grip- I see a seagull fly out from
inside of another seagull ‘till
there are two birds

cawing- thought of you, screamed: ‘gawd!
I love you, gurl!!!’

then wondered if you heard it
in texas.

for being so un-okay, i'm in decent shape

2010-11-08T08:55:00.000-08:00

It is like I want to say:

‘U R the one who got away’

But we both know that it's not
quite like that-

More accurately put: you’re ‘the one
that ran (as fast as you could, bag
packed in hand) away’

As if our relationship was a house on fire,
a sinking ship o

Jest practice for some dumb
marathon race

[With no first, only lots of last places]

You were gonna run some day-

I’m not alright but I’m doin’ fine
for the state that I am in;

For being so un-okay,
I’m in decent shape;

So much love; so much to say

Yet nobody to listen; nobody to give it
up to [where r u?]-

I just hope he’s worth it;

Actually, I don’t. I didn't. Never did.

Let’s not kid ourselves- we mustn’t begin
to get dishonest;

In verity, I hope he breaks your heart far
worse than you shattered mine, like:

Trillions of pieces flying through an infinite sky
line like moths bashing into lamplights
at night in a deserted dirty alleyway

That is so commonplace on Lost
Lover's Lane.

I pray someday he’ll keep you up all night
till you writhe in pain;

That you won’t be able to sleep- haunted by
memories y bad dreams

Of the way things could be, if only [if only,
if only- this Bud is for the lonely in love,
homie]-

I hope you get and/or become so alone in his
presence, so lonely [like me] that you pay
for it

Then end up catching an awful, unpronounceable
disease which is sexually transmitted-

I hope he brings you to your knees;

Praying so frequently that you tatter yr jeans,
bruise yr skin, then forget what yr askin’

God for, to begin with-

I wish you’ll cry every time your phone doesn’t
ring/your messages remain unanswered or

Aren’t even received

Just deleted immediately/upon arriving;

I hope that you too will beg
to be put out of yr misery

[To no avail]

I hope you falter and fall continually,

I hope you get crushed by the rock
that belongs/ed to Sisyphus-

I wish you fail-

I hope you scream,
I hope you wail!

I hope you too get stuck in
this fucked up prison/jail

For (and consisting solely
of) the perpetually
broken-hearted

Where the warden is ugly y mean yet
the wo/man of yr dreams-

I hope that, like me, you develop ‘broken-heart
syndrome’/this nasty unfortunate disease

And your body begins shutting down:

Organs failing; stomach acid building
up; so constipated so that yr finally
full of

Shit- literally.

I hope it/he
eventually
kills you

Slowly, from the inside out,
just like you’re killing me

And you become too weak to run, too frail to speak,
too achy to even shout for some type of release
and/or any relief

I want, wish, pray that when teenage kids are studying
for their SAT’s they will flip the Dictionary’s pages
searching for the definition of ‘bitch’ and see your
photograph

And then laugh

At your pain/face

I pray that under yr picture it’ll read in tiny black print:
your birthday-next week’s date; in essence, that

You will soon be deceased

Just like me-

So don’t you dare say that I’m being unfair,
darling!

Especially

When it is true that I spend every waking
minute praying for you.

switzerland/sisyphus

2010-10-29T09:42:00.000-07:00

pink disaster/garbage can

black plastic trash bags

stomped out and cashed

cigarettes/fags;

crumpled dirty dollar bills-

ant hills (containing fire
ants) morphing

into molehills;

you are so not/so far from
(being or becoming)
'switzerland'-

my heart is a broken, foreign land
like siberia (where the russians
send their criminals

for grueling, strenuous
physical labour)

covered in snow; buckets and
buckets full of it-

all of our problems come
tumbling down the slope
of our molehill turned
mountain;

snowballing- picking up more
and more conundrums/issues/
difficulties as it picks
up speed/

comes rolling full-speed,

plummeting from the peak
towards the base of this
mountain- then!

just in the 'nick of time' sisyphus
emerges to create a diversion

then begins pushing
all of our b.s.
back up

the side of this molehill-mountain;
when will it ever end?

and, more important(ly), what is
for breakfast?

bad guys/enema

2010-10-12T13:22:00.000-07:00

i.

for once- one time- i want to see
a movie, a t.v. episode, read
a novel

where the bad guys and gals
get away, scot-free

ii.

remembering the first best time
of my life:

you, me, a bottle of cheap
wine, lots and lots of head
in your parents' bed

now my head is throbbing as i bend
in the 'knee-chest' position

in order to best insert/inject
this enema

is driving me crazy; the pain
is hurting- my bowels yell
and my vocal chords scream

iii.

it depends, it deepens

i don't really like my
friends

or

i dislike having them

it's going to end
sooner than later-

this is an inoperable,
intangible disaster-

i wish i had cancer

to-do list

2010-10-12T13:08:00.000-07:00

we've much more pressing things
to do than our 'to-do lists'
today

is beautiful

simply because you are
in it-

you are a falling, shooting
star whose shine is
infinite

and i promise to love/carry
you for an infinity
times three

weeks without knowing
you're alive

is enough to make me cry
and swear to the sky
to strangle you dry

as soon as you reappear/
get near

fight/there's not enough time left to pretend friends

2010-10-12T12:50:00.000-07:00

always the same

forever changing

every time i cry

and die

just a little bit more
inside

why

and what am i
still living
for?

killing time till you see me
right/correctly

is killing me

every day and every
night

i see the moon then
think of you

especially when
she's full

...i'm feeling
so very empty

without your love
within me

why keep on breathing?

i keep waiting
and waiting
y waiting

please try to hurry
honeybee/abeja
melífera

pretty
please
pretty

masterpiece

2010-10-09T16:03:00.000-07:00

i.

our irreconcilable similarities
and rarities

draw you to me-

not quite a masterpiece;
certainly something
worthy of saving

ii.

all our unborn babies

becoming stains
on sheets

beaming under black lights
at parties

iii.

remember that night?

iv.

haven't been feeling right,
lately

can't even remember
who i was with
last night

in fact, there's no true proof
that i was with anybody-

simply a few empties,
dirty debris and
clothing

v.

i lost my spare keys

vi.

it isn't fair to be
constantly on these
knees, swallowing

these recipes

for disaster

mother nature keeps
feeding me

vii.

eating cereal

viii.

it was disgusting and beautiful:

we kissed with mouths full
of food bits which
we couldn't digest

due to our distended
abdomen/sick stomach-

your tongue rubbed up
against mine; it
tickled, it felt
fine

iv.

here's to the time
of our lives!

x.

may the 'good times'
never stop beginning

xi.

soda pop bottles spinning,
to see who we'll be
kissing-

while somewhere
in another
galaxy

a lonely

soda pop bottle top
flips its perspective
till it is on the bottom
glancing backwards
towards heaven

i see myself in your hazel
reflection

like kissing perfection.

rock n' roll

2010-10-09T15:51:00.001-07:00

it's only rock n' roll

fuck love then touch my soul

there is a hole
i want filled

there was a feeling
aborted and killed

peace of mind/piece of mine

2010-10-07T12:12:00.001-07:00

i.

so foul a sky will not
clear without a storm
and when a person
has lost

everything

then revenge is all there is
left to achieve

ii.

you can't buy a peace of mind
like one purchases a slice
of pie

iii.

there's no price
on mental or
emotional

tranquility

is what i badly need

desperately

iv.

there isn't a price-
just like

there is no monetary
measurement of my
love for you in
existence

v.

the sky isn't the limit

only because there is no ceiling
fencing this love

is free

and expanding, growing, multiplying
by pregnant threes

everytime

you look at me

my knees
become
week

after week

after week

vi.

i miss you terribly

non-alcoholic beer

2010-10-07T12:05:00.000-07:00

sipping non-alcoholic beer
like nobody's business

wishing you were here
and begging me
for forgiveness

that is no typo- you should
say you're sorry- no more lies

i'm sick and f-ing fatigued
from, and of, apologizing

for nothing- the only
thing i'm guilty
of

is loving you too
much

and such

friends (written exclusively for you know who)

2010-10-07T11:54:00.000-07:00

i.

the fat lady is warming up;
clearing her lungs and getting
her vocal chords ready

ii.

peaks and valleys

iii.

burning buildings,
raising our fists,
casting a line
to eventually
free these
fish

iv.

baby, i'm an anarchist

v.

let's french kiss in spanish
in the presence of a glorious
sunset, coming through the
mountain's breasts on this
magnificent horizon

vi.

there is freedom in death

vii.

why only be friends
when we'd miss
the benefits
of being
lovers?

viii.

songs in seconds, movies in minutes- get
under my covers and let's pretend
we're fucking on the moon

iv.

this world is going to end soon

would you rather witness it
burn with my hand in yours
or his?

bartender please

2010-09-22T19:32:00.000-07:00

i want a shot of that green-eyed beast
lookin' at me

bartender please-

seriously,

that's 'what it'll be'

and i know he
won't be
cheap-

so put her on my tab, put him
on my charge card

i'll even trade in my car,
here are the keys

honky tonk (part two)/loving you is as automatic as breathing

2010-09-22T19:18:00.001-07:00

i.

to hell and back

ii.

in or out
up or down
live or die
smile or cry
gasp or sigh
black or white
day or night
hello, goodbye

iii.

stars and stripes

iv.

wet wipes

v.

before gettin' undressed for bed
i remove each halo, carefully,
with caution extreme,
from my head

then proceed

to feel empty

vi.

singin' along with my microphone
off

vii.

vegan who eats pussy and honey
and wears leather on my body
and feet

viii.

feeling incomplete. knowing
that you can't complete me

i wish you didn't drink-

i do not mind that you
are sort of stinky

ix.

loving you is as automatic as
breathing

in the fumes we've been
running on for weeks

i've needed sleep

seems to keep
evading me

just like your love,
your heart

currently belongs to me-

make no mistakes, darling

he's just holding
it till my hands
are free

ain't the same thing
as cheap

wine plus roll-your-own cigarettes
plus you and me with nothing
on but honky tonk equals

a promise i'm gonna keep

on waiting, keep
on wishing

on them falling stars

any day now i'll be
back in your arms

and he can go get
gone or go get lost

in a sea of everybody else

means next to nothing
when you're next to me

and

as long as you're with me/
right where you should be

ain't nothing or nobody
ever gonna hurt you

baby

ain't it neat when what we
want is synonymous with
what we need?

poem one (from 'way to go a-hole' chapbook)

2010-09-16T19:56:00.001-07:00

honky tonk

honky tonk and pretty women
are the only two reasons
you can see for living

currently

the house is dirty beyond belief,
you’ve been showering using
the same dirty towel

and the ceiling has sprung a leak

poem two (from 'way to go a-hole' chapbook)

2010-09-16T19:55:00.000-07:00

bible or blood from my mouth

Angst in German is Angst-

Second place isn’t second place,
It marks the space of the first
Loser

I was certain of being unsure

I felt wholly futile like a plastic child full
Of holes

I kept avoiding using the toilet or fucking for fear that when
I pulled down my pants my undergarments would be
Painted on to my body like a Barbie doll

Or something-

I fell. I felt like falling so I ran blindfolded after spinning
In circles while counting to twenty-three. I fell. I fall

Against the wall poetically
Like autumn leaves
Of green

Transforming into yellow, orange, and brown
Landing on the ground

On my knees- thinking aloud ‘if you’re gonna do a bad job
You may as well do it well’ then spitting
Blood from my mouth

I wonder what people ‘do for fun’ in hell-

I can’t even begin to pretend
A smile

Still feeling futile. Where the hell is my Bible?

poem three (from 'way to go a-hole' chapbook)

2010-09-16T19:54:00.000-07:00

texas

Scream into that pillow
From the depths of your soul/
As loud as you can

Then punch the lumps
Out of it with a .22 caliber bullet
Clenched in your hand/fist

Then- when you begin to feel better-
Colour those empty hallways
With your licorice laughter

For days and days

It’s been a disaster; setting fire
To your ex’s clothes, sending letters
Of hate through an internet post/cellular phone
To Texas

But lets us just forget
All that shit for a while,
For a bit,

Share a bath and some spit

Go ahead and laugh again, it feels good to come
Without going anywhere, doesn’t it?

poem four (from 'way to go a-hole' chapbook)

2010-09-16T19:53:00.000-07:00

a coney island of the heart

A Coney Island
of the heart-

Act your age (on this stage)
and sweetheart dress the part

It's a roller coaster
ride inside
my mind/

Inside thighs

I swear on my life
there's a design
to end all designs.

A Coney Island
of the heart-

O! my non-love
from above:

Believing is art.

poem five (from 'way to go a-hole' chapbook)

2010-09-16T19:52:00.002-07:00

texas (part two)

wearing a frown in a ‘sundown town’

skipping over cracks so as not to injure
my mother’s already-bad back.

love is lethal

and in texas you can shoot people

whether in your backyard or in front of a steeple.

sitting at work, in front of a computer, signed-in
to g-mail chat but remaining 'invisible'

i dream of a bigger city

to sink its teeth into me; i pray for rain
to moisten these desert tree leaves

i would like to leave in the middle of the early morning
carrying nothing but my backpack and the clothing
i’m wearing on my body

well, maybe i’d bring a change of underwear
and some condoms, just in case- i mean,
you can never be too prepared.

cutting the plastic circles of a soda pop six-pack of cans
in half then in quarters with pocket-knife scissors

i pause halfway through to wonder
if it really matters- i mean,

perhaps, being suffocated/asphyxiated
by a coca-cola package noose
is a better way to go down
than drowning in oil

although, that oil would have been worth billions
and billions; a six-pack isn’t that expensive

poem six (from 'way to go a-hole' chapbook)

2010-09-16T19:52:00.001-07:00

she sees everything

once upon a time you were suffocating
me

now i simply cannot breathe
for

the life of me
every

phone ring unanswered springs
up

in my tissues like a cancer
so

many tissues soaked through
with

the liquid blues of
way

too many tears shed
for

a person who is not yet
dead

rather, more than ever
alive

only inside of my
mind

love isn't blind
indeed

she sees everything

poem seven (from 'way to go a-hole' chapbook)

2010-09-16T19:51:00.001-07:00

self-unemployment

quite a horrific headache from having to witness
two passive agressives
in an argument
feeling exhausted
contemplating your ungainful self-unemployment
to the soundtrack of an earful of double-edged,
ascerbic comments
like:'don't phone and don't write,
you'll hear from me in good time;
you realize
you are having a decidely bad time,
as you try to re-write
the lines in your mind
then hide the fact that
you ever tried

poem eight (from 'way to go a-hole' chapbook)

2010-09-16T19:46:00.000-07:00

cheap coloured string

A left-handed sideways glance
Achebe was smart; all things do fall apart
Some just happen to do so much quicker than others
Take my heart, for example- once ample now simply
A tangle of cheap coloured string-
No, seriously- take my heart
Forever, for keeps
Just remember to bear in mind there is a 'no returns' policy
So don't bother saving your receipt