Monday, December 23, 2013

"hey, do you know what this is doing to me?"

Hey, look! A new poem!

woman, you’re defiant, and often at war
you play your cards like checkmates, or revere
foreign and national examples of excess
bourgeois things and royalty substitutes
hollywood princesses land tits down
but get back up to primp and preen
as your devotion grows larger

frail spectrals
fame’s ghosts, you see yourself onscreen
focused on nothing but the shot
no hair or makeup
can hide the fact that you’ll only be beautiful for so long

are your priorities in sight?
listen, lady: there is nonsense and little else
alive in this world
it will shake you awake
and force you to stare down the dawn

or fierce:
beautiful, messed up and magnificent
something renewed
a sacrifice from the streets
a calf brought back from the altar
and returned into the light

i could define
all the things you are
dear darling, oh inspiration
i could take forever to chronicle your peaks
but then i wouldn’t get to watch you
and i’d miss something
necessary for me to live

Monday, July 15, 2013

"you've got a power source/it's like a solar system"

New poem, kind of a mess, kind of raw. I've been trying to write other types of stuff, but I'm fond of this.

“balance # 2”

keep me honest, but
don’t keep me too honest
my eating habits may
distract you for a while
but tonight will be fine, will be fine

i’m timid and afraid that
you’re just acting
i watch every word i say
which is really
never my normal course of business

if  i’m too careful
you’ll grow irritable and bored
but if i let loose you’ll be scared into silence
so i blance, oh i balance
everything always comes back to fucking blance

Friday, June 21, 2013

"heaven is a place with you"

 Not really going to say anything about this, other than I've been messing around with style. I've gotten pretty bored with most of my traditional formats. I like this quite a bit, even if it might be a bit generic. I'm not great at writing stuff like this, but I'm getting better.

“# 7 “

her body reacts the way a woman’s body should
she gasps and arches and continues her ascent
i kiss her mouth and grasp

ah, but i’m just as content
when she’s lying still in my arms

she gets up to find a cigarette
i hold back to catch my breath
she pulls on her shirt, i mutter a complaint
i watch her when she’s walking away
as closely as i do when she’s arriving

we sit in silence
or hatch insane plans

she turns her face towards me
everything that matters is there
nothing is more important, nothing is as free

Friday, May 17, 2013

"her smile was pretty, but her body was strange/it could have been just the shadows from a passing train"

 Old poem from '09. I think it was in my chapbook Crack Cocaine Kisses and Other Poems, but like three people read that. Depressing as hell, but I'm fond of it.


you came to your collapse like it was a dance and you were fire
you looked around your empty room
as if you had just realized
that you were alone and were afraid of being alone

you came to your collapse without coffee filters, and so
you took to the vodka in the freezer, and began to toast
days you had dreamed up full of fashion and the flames of lovers
delusions go down like water, but fail even quicker when you chase them with liquor

you came to your collapse and you were fine
as long as you were absent, and the checks kept coming
the pill bottles emptied, the ashtrays filled, and you ceased being hungry
lost track of time, turned out the lights, and left the phone off the hook

you came to your collapse with no hope of a savior but against all odds, advantage, or anyone's wishes 
folks will come, the ambulance chasers who only care when you go missing
raise the shades, lock the door and pray
that whoever is there won't be desperate enough to find a way in

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

"i was sought"

New poem inspired by a different version of the song below.

“ in my heart (with apologies to carey mercer)”

war, war is in my heart
but your love is all i will cherish
let wounds appear elsewhere
your love is the light i will hold up
against the chattering, darkening sky

oh, but i have basked in battle
i have taken up my sword against loss and entropy
i have stood awash in blood and sorrow
and war remains in my heart
my dissatisfaction has grown too large to just ignore

i fist my hand in anticipation of your soul gripping mine
i smile at the vision of you i hold in my head
pretending i could be cleansed
i sing radio songs that remind me of you
your love is all i remember

though through the threat of war i’m still possessed
my mind doesn’t collapse in on itself, as i would hope
it doesn’t turn to dust, cold and miserable
you’re the little bit of blasphemy i could always take with me
if i’m buried on a battlefield, you’ll keep me alive, and fed forever

Friday, April 12, 2013

"But I looked back/it was a bore/it was a fucking horror"

 The first of these is mostly insubstantial, but I like it well enough. Most of the really good stuff has stayed in a word file lately. I feel the need to hold some stuff back. 
The second poem is another mixture of true and false (especially the last verse, which is either 99% bullshit, or the vision of someone else). It's me arguing with dead poets again, I can't ever be accused of being unambitious.

“ untitled # 9”
i remembered good times
i swallowed, coughed, then spit
i adjusted my hat, continued walking home
i saw it all again

transfixed by saturation i moved the needle onto the record
a cachopany came through the speakers
i swear i heard your voice, you whistled so sweet
you never did sing for me, i always thought you would

i have only so many directions to choose from, although
i have no clue as to where any of them will lead me
i choose the path with love and loss and random chance
i’m at my best when i don’t know what’s coming next

“seeking alive (fuck william blake)”

if the doors of perception were cleansed
we would lose our identities and cease to exist
every person’s world is what they perceive
if cracks should appear
insanity will beckon

i’m the only one who feels myself exist
the only one who can see my place in the patterns
why should we do for others?
when we can’t even prove they exist?

i brush a stranger and apologize with a smile
and then go to find my seat
i want to know what others are thinking
but can only go on what they tell me

i position my words in hopes that
no one will guess what i’m thinking
i only care for my outer appearance
i write my missives mostly for myself
but if you find my words, take them, whisper them some place new