skunks breath?
it was.
we better move the girl.
set the mood with
the lighting.
skins and colts?
i never know-
mad people, lucky we got the table.
Hyped.
sleeping on the floor, leaping from the
windows.
is it me?
if you're coming home tonight- wake me up? ok?
breaking beer bottles all night,
leaving glass on the floor-
dead in 2 hours-
waiting for the word.
confessing everything,
closed my eyes here- woke up here.
whorn out.
when we saw him in the parking lot he had bottles of champagne,
but the girls weren't into it, they
wanted to make jewelry and spin art.
sand art.
how many bowl pieces do we go through?
its not a miracle.
everybody came out of it alive.
you cause quite a scare, lets talk
face to
face.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
NEW POEMS FALL 2010
brain bleed
k domus
bobbing and weaving
the slap boxer
im tired of these things, but
I’ll go and do it the next day-
This one chick man, she was the first bitch I ever saw get high-
Mental wounds
Out of control, even for you-
Or me?
Minds working crazy at a fast pace,
Sweating a lot,
Brain bleed-
Leech, doesn’t know when it’s time to leave.
The 15th chapter
i burned til i was out-
not like i havent before-
its like i know about the sunset
and the dirty socks
and the vendors
and the girls with hoops in their noses
its like i know
one day
it will be like i never did-
all the knowledge in the world
about never knowing,
a profession made of never asking,
kiss me. Run, lick a frog
her bottom lip is mush from my molars.
i sprint up the stairs in the summer solar.
we lick frogs,
fucked up,
it's funny for hours.
you pop quiz me
in the library naked, then we
ding dong ditch the deaf girls house,
lick a toad, make love on the couch.
now she’s red-
now she’s purple-
and im flashing like snow strobe’
Great, Big, Mondo City
There is no cure for the craters
on the moons face, just
like there is no cure for my tombstone
brain.
Vacuum eyes take the sidewalk in-
Draining judgment, exhausted by gaudy punk
girls.
Seeing them is like a thrash pop movement displayed
in a museum- Me watching with my skyscraper
dick.
Big canvas, followed to a tourist trap door-
There is no cure for smog or the road made of
garbage, just like there is no antidote for the dog
walker.
On this sidewalk I see asses fat like the big
slice. Dollar slice is cheaper though-
Uncommonly, uncalmingly, like terrorist missiles,
More issues, to deal
with.
Lets hold hands in the cheap pub with the
Expensive jackets we bought, under the heated lights of the big
City.
Massage Chair
Longing, always
Longing- Someone squeeze me.
Bug out-
Freak out-
I need a super model to molest me, or
at least a little amateur doll to
punch me all over my back,
crush me everywhere,
crunch my nimble bone gears,
& drop cemetery knuckles
on my shoulders!
Motion touching, untying knots-
Muscles shriek & arms curl,
I feel the weight of a heavy girl
stand on my spine, jump & land holes in my torso,
I need a couple hits
of weed morso-
Blaze my eyes closed-
Open me up like a flower-
Now I can take a deep breath & deal with
all of this clutter.
JIZZY BUN
I started telling secrets to my pet like pom-pom,
she moves her mouth muscles around like elastic as she talks,
she grows a big jaw when I tell her what I hide from the world,
Like
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
I call her Jizzy Bun-
her loud friends do to.
Wah Oh Wah-
Sounds like a musical.
She likes pulling my arms out of their sockets-
Sounds- like an animal.
35 dollars for 2 weeks
the
job
pays
shit.
35 bucks left
on a cracked debit
card.
A dollar day- I say.
Fast food cheeseburger- nutri’grain bar- pieces of fruit-
The partying is done for, & the flask runs empty-
2 more weeks.
Imagine for a second that- I am made of money-
Sneeze fifty cents into my hands,
buy some chips,
another gumball prize.
The Breeze
Cheetah bra with her
knees up-
Sporting dripping leather shoes.
Human heart in a jar,
thrown into the ocean
after expired sessions.
Rips in the knees, now she feels the breeze.
College Girls
Desks connected to chairs make me stretch-
Over & Over.
My mind made of plastic like action figures-
College girls sweat iced coffee-
They have FAT asses, small faces, thin rimmed glasses &
leather jackets.
These chicks have restraining orders against me.
Mosh my way through lesson plans-
Leave the lesson tattooing an anarchy symbol on my forehead, pushing
scholars down escalators-
Break between classes-
Burn red candles in public bathrooms-
Let a rat free in the café, taking my lunch to go- Knowing
college girls don’t eat lunch at the café-
They consume iceberg lettuce, wearing tube socks in the park
across the avenue.
Who is be challenged here?
Wasn’t me.
Ring Around
Mortify-
Horrify-
BOMB the wi*fi air circuit!
Crickets playing punk soul
violins in the straw grass,
flabbergasting the ugly past.
Listening-
Drool around the lip line-
Ring around my joystick- Joyous leg locking lockjaw-
Cat paw tracks
leading to the dead castle.
Draw Bridge doors opening and shutting really fast like a fold up lady fan-
Can’t get/keep the box closed.
Stalling for time in my sleep with planets revolving around
me & you & everyone else in the
monster-size-wigwam.
Amongst spilt soda & kicked over beer, the corner store merchant still doesn’t remember me.
Damaging my hazy malt time travel clammer.
Coffin naptime blanket beach towel, shovel and pale to build the sand palace-
Magic carpet eye sockets chatting with old folks all day-
Body drone- Head drone- Body drone- Head drone-Body drone- Head drone- Body drone- Head drone-Body drone- Head drone- Body drone- Head drone- Body drone- Head drone- Body drone- Head drone.
Paddle
Couldn’t paddle up the river- Don’t tell anybody.
Holes in my tee shirt, up and down on both sides, moderation in the stretch jeans, small skull silk screened on the fabric, metal foot rests, moon bounce chest piece, she’s got tits, What difference does this sexual bulldozer make?
Slim fit discussion, repetitious formation of bone structure thanks to milk, Goopy McDonalds muzzle, premarital sex shack, shaky cheek bones, hippie weed brain, fuck protesting, give me a 20 dollar bill handshake, a dead skin meal wearing sweat cologne.
I shit credit into flushing bowls with no paddle.
Plural leaps of fate to take, waste balloon, half hour blow-jobs, motorized neck pain-
Who’s worthy?
You, you, and you.
Dumb down my head.
My bug bites are bright red.
I hate shoes that look too small.
I could get sick here, in a brown paper bag.
My schedules blank, I have no cash to burn in glass bongs.
Condoms are free- My girlfriend isn’t-
I rape my health all over-
Put my senses in a coma, bursting with grease and smoke.
Scholar, just getting by, Leeching on pavement, pillows, fake meat, and blonde nurses.
Does it cost anything to use that diving board?
May I dive?
Dangle
A stiff fedora is taken up by
the whirlwind breath.
Agonizing tears drag me home,
help me
chill out.
Worst haircut I’ve ever seen-
Not how I planned this.
What
I
needed
was
a
stuffed lobster and those
slutty fucked up
chicks from Georgia.
I hate performers who sing
over prerecorded vocals.
I like it to be deeper than that-
& then a cobweb dangles.
At Some Point
Tongue down the welfare girls throat,
tastes like money.
Dead in the reclining chair- Head stopped bopping.
Splintering heavy metal playing out on the deck,
breaking the windows, glass shattered in the front yard.
Chewing skin off my fingers; all around the nails, looking
like a train creep with a bazillion homeless dollars.
Girl across from me
wears no make-up
has big hair
all cut up weird.
The Stubborn Spiral
I make no bank
Roach life in the fast lane
Not blacked out- so everything’s fine or
fucked up.
Spiral wave I’m riding.
Whirlpool of unfamiliar faces-
Turn my I-pod off. Turn my
life vibe off. Turn off the blood pipes.
The roof party headache-
No one is safe from rage feelings in a plummet setting.
Water Lily
Silly feeling fleeting beating off-
Hair greasy teased beam POP*
Castles- Clouds-
Daily Roast
Immunity Boost
Whatever You Choose
gave up somewhere
hairs raising,
skin bubbling,
the girl named Angel singing.
money burning,
smoke circling,
the check has gone through.
head turning,
hand returning,
the license has expired.
music- violin- music- classical
formality- music- the color of envy in
envelopes.
Well- could have been. But- broke now.
Slam dancing on the mattress strings
Miles a minute-
My generation in a rush/
Pushing people over turnstiles/ Down stairs/
Under taxis and big trucks/
Mind blowing drool art oozes/ Unfathomed thought snoozes/
Uninterested/ Unlistened to.
Uncommon is the one with the pulled up boot straps/
You can only become God once or a few times/
At best/
UBER DICH (about you)
I can’t walk on my own. I see a big
pink eraser melting in my burning
college. Dopey, smacked to shit.
FUCK THE RULE BOOK. I can’t
help but grovel at the feet of
overachievers. The way they dress
turns my eyes into strobe lights.
HEY. Give me a back scratch with
a pitchfork. Put on your Canal
Street handcuff jewelry. Speak
your native language. Tell the extra
terrestrials you were first on foot,
before cavemen and dinosaurs and
that you’re a billion years old and
carried youthful beauty with you.
I work on different days. We work
in different ways. You do what you
may. It’s hard for me to say.
k domus
bobbing and weaving
the slap boxer
im tired of these things, but
I’ll go and do it the next day-
This one chick man, she was the first bitch I ever saw get high-
Mental wounds
Out of control, even for you-
Or me?
Minds working crazy at a fast pace,
Sweating a lot,
Brain bleed-
Leech, doesn’t know when it’s time to leave.
The 15th chapter
i burned til i was out-
not like i havent before-
its like i know about the sunset
and the dirty socks
and the vendors
and the girls with hoops in their noses
its like i know
one day
it will be like i never did-
all the knowledge in the world
about never knowing,
a profession made of never asking,
kiss me. Run, lick a frog
her bottom lip is mush from my molars.
i sprint up the stairs in the summer solar.
we lick frogs,
fucked up,
it's funny for hours.
you pop quiz me
in the library naked, then we
ding dong ditch the deaf girls house,
lick a toad, make love on the couch.
now she’s red-
now she’s purple-
and im flashing like snow strobe’
Great, Big, Mondo City
There is no cure for the craters
on the moons face, just
like there is no cure for my tombstone
brain.
Vacuum eyes take the sidewalk in-
Draining judgment, exhausted by gaudy punk
girls.
Seeing them is like a thrash pop movement displayed
in a museum- Me watching with my skyscraper
dick.
Big canvas, followed to a tourist trap door-
There is no cure for smog or the road made of
garbage, just like there is no antidote for the dog
walker.
On this sidewalk I see asses fat like the big
slice. Dollar slice is cheaper though-
Uncommonly, uncalmingly, like terrorist missiles,
More issues, to deal
with.
Lets hold hands in the cheap pub with the
Expensive jackets we bought, under the heated lights of the big
City.
Massage Chair
Longing, always
Longing- Someone squeeze me.
Bug out-
Freak out-
I need a super model to molest me, or
at least a little amateur doll to
punch me all over my back,
crush me everywhere,
crunch my nimble bone gears,
& drop cemetery knuckles
on my shoulders!
Motion touching, untying knots-
Muscles shriek & arms curl,
I feel the weight of a heavy girl
stand on my spine, jump & land holes in my torso,
I need a couple hits
of weed morso-
Blaze my eyes closed-
Open me up like a flower-
Now I can take a deep breath & deal with
all of this clutter.
JIZZY BUN
I started telling secrets to my pet like pom-pom,
she moves her mouth muscles around like elastic as she talks,
she grows a big jaw when I tell her what I hide from the world,
Like
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
I call her Jizzy Bun-
her loud friends do to.
Wah Oh Wah-
Sounds like a musical.
She likes pulling my arms out of their sockets-
Sounds- like an animal.
35 dollars for 2 weeks
the
job
pays
shit.
35 bucks left
on a cracked debit
card.
A dollar day- I say.
Fast food cheeseburger- nutri’grain bar- pieces of fruit-
The partying is done for, & the flask runs empty-
2 more weeks.
Imagine for a second that- I am made of money-
Sneeze fifty cents into my hands,
buy some chips,
another gumball prize.
The Breeze
Cheetah bra with her
knees up-
Sporting dripping leather shoes.
Human heart in a jar,
thrown into the ocean
after expired sessions.
Rips in the knees, now she feels the breeze.
College Girls
Desks connected to chairs make me stretch-
Over & Over.
My mind made of plastic like action figures-
College girls sweat iced coffee-
They have FAT asses, small faces, thin rimmed glasses &
leather jackets.
These chicks have restraining orders against me.
Mosh my way through lesson plans-
Leave the lesson tattooing an anarchy symbol on my forehead, pushing
scholars down escalators-
Break between classes-
Burn red candles in public bathrooms-
Let a rat free in the café, taking my lunch to go- Knowing
college girls don’t eat lunch at the café-
They consume iceberg lettuce, wearing tube socks in the park
across the avenue.
Who is be challenged here?
Wasn’t me.
Ring Around
Mortify-
Horrify-
BOMB the wi*fi air circuit!
Crickets playing punk soul
violins in the straw grass,
flabbergasting the ugly past.
Listening-
Drool around the lip line-
Ring around my joystick- Joyous leg locking lockjaw-
Cat paw tracks
leading to the dead castle.
Draw Bridge doors opening and shutting really fast like a fold up lady fan-
Can’t get/keep the box closed.
Stalling for time in my sleep with planets revolving around
me & you & everyone else in the
monster-size-wigwam.
Amongst spilt soda & kicked over beer, the corner store merchant still doesn’t remember me.
Damaging my hazy malt time travel clammer.
Coffin naptime blanket beach towel, shovel and pale to build the sand palace-
Magic carpet eye sockets chatting with old folks all day-
Body drone- Head drone- Body drone- Head drone-Body drone- Head drone- Body drone- Head drone-Body drone- Head drone- Body drone- Head drone- Body drone- Head drone- Body drone- Head drone.
Paddle
Couldn’t paddle up the river- Don’t tell anybody.
Holes in my tee shirt, up and down on both sides, moderation in the stretch jeans, small skull silk screened on the fabric, metal foot rests, moon bounce chest piece, she’s got tits, What difference does this sexual bulldozer make?
Slim fit discussion, repetitious formation of bone structure thanks to milk, Goopy McDonalds muzzle, premarital sex shack, shaky cheek bones, hippie weed brain, fuck protesting, give me a 20 dollar bill handshake, a dead skin meal wearing sweat cologne.
I shit credit into flushing bowls with no paddle.
Plural leaps of fate to take, waste balloon, half hour blow-jobs, motorized neck pain-
Who’s worthy?
You, you, and you.
Dumb down my head.
My bug bites are bright red.
I hate shoes that look too small.
I could get sick here, in a brown paper bag.
My schedules blank, I have no cash to burn in glass bongs.
Condoms are free- My girlfriend isn’t-
I rape my health all over-
Put my senses in a coma, bursting with grease and smoke.
Scholar, just getting by, Leeching on pavement, pillows, fake meat, and blonde nurses.
Does it cost anything to use that diving board?
May I dive?
Dangle
A stiff fedora is taken up by
the whirlwind breath.
Agonizing tears drag me home,
help me
chill out.
Worst haircut I’ve ever seen-
Not how I planned this.
What
I
needed
was
a
stuffed lobster and those
slutty fucked up
chicks from Georgia.
I hate performers who sing
over prerecorded vocals.
I like it to be deeper than that-
& then a cobweb dangles.
At Some Point
Tongue down the welfare girls throat,
tastes like money.
Dead in the reclining chair- Head stopped bopping.
Splintering heavy metal playing out on the deck,
breaking the windows, glass shattered in the front yard.
Chewing skin off my fingers; all around the nails, looking
like a train creep with a bazillion homeless dollars.
Girl across from me
wears no make-up
has big hair
all cut up weird.
The Stubborn Spiral
I make no bank
Roach life in the fast lane
Not blacked out- so everything’s fine or
fucked up.
Spiral wave I’m riding.
Whirlpool of unfamiliar faces-
Turn my I-pod off. Turn my
life vibe off. Turn off the blood pipes.
The roof party headache-
No one is safe from rage feelings in a plummet setting.
Water Lily
Silly feeling fleeting beating off-
Hair greasy teased beam POP*
Castles- Clouds-
Daily Roast
Immunity Boost
Whatever You Choose
gave up somewhere
hairs raising,
skin bubbling,
the girl named Angel singing.
money burning,
smoke circling,
the check has gone through.
head turning,
hand returning,
the license has expired.
music- violin- music- classical
formality- music- the color of envy in
envelopes.
Well- could have been. But- broke now.
Slam dancing on the mattress strings
Miles a minute-
My generation in a rush/
Pushing people over turnstiles/ Down stairs/
Under taxis and big trucks/
Mind blowing drool art oozes/ Unfathomed thought snoozes/
Uninterested/ Unlistened to.
Uncommon is the one with the pulled up boot straps/
You can only become God once or a few times/
At best/
UBER DICH (about you)
I can’t walk on my own. I see a big
pink eraser melting in my burning
college. Dopey, smacked to shit.
FUCK THE RULE BOOK. I can’t
help but grovel at the feet of
overachievers. The way they dress
turns my eyes into strobe lights.
HEY. Give me a back scratch with
a pitchfork. Put on your Canal
Street handcuff jewelry. Speak
your native language. Tell the extra
terrestrials you were first on foot,
before cavemen and dinosaurs and
that you’re a billion years old and
carried youthful beauty with you.
I work on different days. We work
in different ways. You do what you
may. It’s hard for me to say.
Friday, July 2, 2010
2010 poems
Bundle me
In the trails-
Behind my grandmothers West Virginian home,
made of wood-
I traipse about among the ticks,
& look out over a vast acre of tall green grass-
Pressed my notepad against a hollow tree which housed large black ants
& other insects with antenna-
Had to make a note about poison leaves & breeze-
Through out the trail there were big fields with grass only-
These fields reminded me of fucking my girl at purchase in the outskirts along the
campus, on top of a towel, with falls leftover foliage-
Sexual tongue shaker-
Love faker-
Undertaker-
I started to walk back toward the house-
Breaking old twigs in shaded movement-
I threw my cell-phone down a hill-
laughed-
Stared at the patches of dirt & the spiders with burgundy legs &
started feeling like the leaves with the holes chewed through by the butterflies with
now dried cocoons-
J______, please bundle me-
Just bundle me like firewood.
When You Get a Knock On The Door
“When Jesus knocks on your door”, she said.
Jesus is not at my door-
Well I actually don’t know. I’m on vacation at the moment-
I don’t really have a “HOME” with a steady door to knock on-
There’s my apartment in Manhattan- that I’ll be leaving when the lease is up, my moms beautiful house in the Port Jefferson Village, my dads place in Florida where I lived for most of my childhood…
Jesus and I have never met-
What residence would he be reaching me at?
He doesn’t have my cell phone number- or does he?
That- has changed a few times…
The freaks say people are jealous of Jesus. They say they can’t hear him when he speaks-
He is Jesus, no? He should have a 7g network or something like that.
If my cold body is consumed and travels helplessly down the river or
my inner systems swell and buckle with cancer, I still won’t be home and I still won’t know if Jesus was at my door or not.
Ladybug
How many spots did the ladybug have?
A lot, but it was dried and dead.
Age Limits
-4 months apart
a year older than you
19? No 21?
It’s all because of those cut off feet-
+ Are you going to the wedding?
-Ugh, I can’t stand them.
+ Who?
- Micky and Donna.
+ You don’t like Donna cause of her body. You’re very shallow.
- Shut up I’m resting. Move all this clutter off of the counter will you?
+ I feel kind of guilty.
- That’s because you are.
In the trails-
Behind my grandmothers West Virginian home,
made of wood-
I traipse about among the ticks,
& look out over a vast acre of tall green grass-
Pressed my notepad against a hollow tree which housed large black ants
& other insects with antenna-
Had to make a note about poison leaves & breeze-
Through out the trail there were big fields with grass only-
These fields reminded me of fucking my girl at purchase in the outskirts along the
campus, on top of a towel, with falls leftover foliage-
Sexual tongue shaker-
Love faker-
Undertaker-
I started to walk back toward the house-
Breaking old twigs in shaded movement-
I threw my cell-phone down a hill-
laughed-
Stared at the patches of dirt & the spiders with burgundy legs &
started feeling like the leaves with the holes chewed through by the butterflies with
now dried cocoons-
J______, please bundle me-
Just bundle me like firewood.
When You Get a Knock On The Door
“When Jesus knocks on your door”, she said.
Jesus is not at my door-
Well I actually don’t know. I’m on vacation at the moment-
I don’t really have a “HOME” with a steady door to knock on-
There’s my apartment in Manhattan- that I’ll be leaving when the lease is up, my moms beautiful house in the Port Jefferson Village, my dads place in Florida where I lived for most of my childhood…
Jesus and I have never met-
What residence would he be reaching me at?
He doesn’t have my cell phone number- or does he?
That- has changed a few times…
The freaks say people are jealous of Jesus. They say they can’t hear him when he speaks-
He is Jesus, no? He should have a 7g network or something like that.
If my cold body is consumed and travels helplessly down the river or
my inner systems swell and buckle with cancer, I still won’t be home and I still won’t know if Jesus was at my door or not.
Ladybug
How many spots did the ladybug have?
A lot, but it was dried and dead.
Age Limits
-4 months apart
a year older than you
19? No 21?
It’s all because of those cut off feet-
+ Are you going to the wedding?
-Ugh, I can’t stand them.
+ Who?
- Micky and Donna.
+ You don’t like Donna cause of her body. You’re very shallow.
- Shut up I’m resting. Move all this clutter off of the counter will you?
+ I feel kind of guilty.
- That’s because you are.
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