Unedited Poetry (straight from the notebook)


I can’t remember

what I’ve forgot,

but sometimes,

I get glimpses

of thoughts,

I thought,

were forever lost.


Fibro Myalgia

Grandpa died like an antique

taking 25 years to leave.

I remember him only broken.

So, I don’t know why

I bother collecting the pieces.


Designer Baggage

She wore full shopping bags

like a statement of fashion.

After a fashion

the statement got heavy.


she carries them empty.


Of no consequence pt 1

Drunk w/ pop

in my ears.

I am not cool enough

to feel the chill.

Beauty is about

but a friendly beast

inadvertently stands

between its reflection

and me.


Of no consequence pt 2


waiting for the impossible

to be possible.

I will fly

with your kiss

but it’s forever away.

So, I stand

by myself

in the midst

of me.


Absurd recollection

We drove

the wrong way

down one ways,

until castles

drowned us in rain.

I stand by myself,


to retain this moment.



Internal Reasoning

I took the wrong train

to get here,

but it wasn’t my fault:

I wasn’t listening

when they told me to get off.





Of importance

-goddamn you know it.

Feast upon my tequila teat.

Gorge your eyes

upon my honey cooch.

Fuck this.






of projections


what is real?

Able to lose

the lost

Amidst that I’ve never found

Fuck rhymes

metaphors too.

Let me see through

to you.




Harbored Ambitions

I saw a harbor

full of sail boats

sitting still

waiting for a gust

or a breeze

to push them

toward the ocean

the wind is lifeless

limp fabric of sails.

They’d do better

with an oar


is that a fallacy?




Anger has taken it’s toll

on me.

Others the attendants collecting


To ensure every inch of pavement is glittering



or a concrete concoction of the two.

I do not like it

this blabbering belligerence.

I want my streets bare

of its sealants.



Metaphor #1

I will not get this,

I know,

I will not expect to know,

I know,

and yet, I know.

I know this despite

blissful ignorance

smiling emptiness.

Can a single changed leaf

denote autumn?

Or does a poet wait

for a sea of red

before extolling the virtues

of the fall?




Judy dances outside of a bar

“Groove on! Groove on! Live Jive!” Judy shouted

to the Cambridge night.

“You fool!” the doorman responded.

“They’ll cut off your tequila, whiskey, and pabst,

if you keep up like that!”

“Never!” Judy retorted.

They don’t dare stop


And it was true

for Judy had eyes of infinity

and a smile twice the distance.

To punctuate her point

she busted into a two-step Charlie

with a third step

rounding out the square.

It was Central but

Judy was off kilter

-her crown mingling with the chilled night air.

“Groove on starts it all,”

she laughed with piano key teeth.

“It’s so infectious it must be repeated.

So Groove On! again

just for the love

and the high-fives

and hugs.”

“Shush,” the doorman scorned

taking a deep drag

on a shallow cigarette,

“I’ll kick you out myself-”

But Judy interrupted

”It’s not enough to groove only twice

with each ‘on’ comes an ‘off’

and most certainly not from spite.

Grab a dancer and kick your feet!”

“Enough,” the doorman intruded.

“Live Jive!” Judy exclaimed

then began to groove

to a beat she pounded on the pavement

with her feet.

“That counts when numbers are meaningless,

just melody and rhythm.

Only a fool would hush ut!”

The doorman did not intercede.

He simply clutched his chest

then fell to his knees.

His last thought

before his heart stopped

was simple.

‘I shoulda danced to that beat.’










Who I am (a collection of contradictions)

Who I am in the country

is not

Who I am in the city.


Who I am on the dance floor

is not

Who I am on the couch.


Who I am when we talk

is not

Who I am when we fuck


Who I am when I am drinking

is not

Who I am when I wake up.


You better leave.




I’m writing this with a cigarette

to remember,

I should not forget,

how addicted I truly am.

I coughed up red this morning.

I only know one essence

of the body colored so.

My throat is clogged

and no one sits next to me

on a crowded train.

I can’t blame them.

People fear the inevitable

and inevitably I will die

if I continue to smoke.

Not in the way we all pass,

but rather an exaggerated

progression of sickness

and irreversible disease.

I know this.

I smoke a cigarette.

I cough until I have a headache.

I have not been well recently.

I smoke a cigarette.

I cough until something breaks

inside of me.

I spit it onto the pavement.

I don’t want to look

at its color,

but I do.

A morbid fascination

with my mind the scientist

and my body the guinea pig.

I’m never satisfied

with the results.

I smoke a cigarette.

I cough until I cannot

cough anymore.

As my air is spent

my lungs quit,

my epitaph should read:

I did this to me.



I Like the Flower

I like the flower

that Kim Dupee drew.


smiling on the T’s wall

in full view.

It don’t remind me of nothing

so, I’m thinking

of everything.

It is a bit more of a bite

than I can chew.


I like the mural

that Ms. Kinsington’s preschool painted.

It was filled with red

and green

though it was done

months after Christmas.

It tickled my eye

like a peacock’s feather

and made me want to be

a little bit better.


I like the picture

of you,

naked and sleeping.

A solitary nipple peaking out

from under the covers

and a little pool of drool

on your pillow.

I swore I’d never

show anyone the photo,

but I know others

have seen this scene.

Was I the only one

with a camera?


I believe

it’s just like the flower

that Kim Dupee drew.



not only for me

to view.



Sleep; a dream

I awoke at 6:35 a.m. with a fist pounding my anus

from the inside.

Would’ve shit myself if I didn’t make it

to the bathroom.

30 minutes of painful excretion and eyes drooping

as my body wanted to go back to slumbering.

I had a dream

while I sat there,

an epiphany

a vision of serene ceramic,

warm and comforting in a meadow

below the sun.

When I opened my eyes it was 7:05.

My anus felt like it had expelled

an inverted pin cushion.

I wiped away the grime

staggered back to my sheets.

They were cold.



Was that me?

Stuck inside


documenting incidents

of which I don’t recall

of which I can’t remember.



A country boy in the city

I’m just a country boy

at heart.

Grew up from North to South

to South to North again.

I just like running

through fields

with grass growing as tall and small and fast

as me.

I’m just a young, country boy

at heart,

staring at the blank faces

of a crowded commuter rail.




are like water,

coming in all types

of bottles.

We drink our fill

to stay alive.



Street Art

A wilted paint brush

kicked to the curb

covered in black paint

or was it tar?




the clouds

and flowers

are just synapses

using rain to stimulate

thoughts of beauty

blooming in waves

of may.

takes the whole month

of april

to say,

“it’s gonna be cold,

for awhile,

but never you mind.

it’s gonna rain,

for awhile,

but the sun always shines





Walls of a Subway

Campaigned Penguins


with public transitors

via ballooned quips

and nicknames.

Get to know them All.




I was dmitri…

I was Ivan…

I am Alexi…



Warped Singer Lost

soundtrack to a world-

wide dinosaur.

this theory to find


i get lazy in search

of bon mot.

blame the irate.

they know i’m joking




Heck Yeah!

The Heck Yeah! was a beautiful ship,

crafted from the most melodious of melodies.

The planks comprising the ship

were hewn from rhythmic trees

in the deep woods of Allston, Massachusetts.

Their pitch, superb.


it was a fine craft.

Until it sailed deep

into bitter colds,

a biting rain

with the occasional snowflake.


The Heck Yeah! sank that day,

and honestly,

it couldn’t have ended any other way.



When I wake up

I could rest

on your lips forever

like the scent

of your hair

upon my pillow

making reality

of long, past dreams

which I never remember

when I wake up.







My home

I’ll find a bed

Time will tell

if I rest

my head.




It hit me

like an asthma attack.

I couldn’t breathe

not a single breath.

Deprived of oxygen

it was only natural

I lose my reason.


I’m sorry I said it.



5:30 p.m. 3/2/ 10 2010

I’ll divide the centuries

by decades

and rally all the hours

of the day

to dismantle the misconception

that time flies.

For Vonnegut had it right

when he wrote

of the jumps, falls, and cuts

of the schlunterhaus.

I’m just trying to make sense of it

on a subway bench

that was built

some time ago,

long before 6:28 p.m.


when I wrote this last line

of poem.



Modern Distraction

I saw a girl and a boy


onto each others’ hand

looked like

they would lose one another


if either

let go.

They were talking of stars

and night

and everything they’d seen on t.v.

I didn’t catch the references,


or cable broadcasting images

of lust

of love

of cars

of clothes

and all that is sacred.

I wondered if a piece

of me was missing.

But they didn’t stop

to reassure me

it’s always been temporary.


they walked faster

clung to the other’s palm

unwilling to

let go.



Heck Yeah

In days long turned to nights.

When legends were truths and truths upset the mind.

Sailed a ship built of rhythm and melody for pitch.

The crew was small, just 4,

as 4 is all that would needed,

upon a vessel as sturdy as Judy,

To tell its tale would be to scream

“Heck Yeah!” across all 7 seas.

I won’t reiterate that which took place.

For it is a story long told

and the words,

most already know.



Fractured Glasses

There’s a lot

of attractive women

in the world.

There’s a lot

of attractive guys


If you haven’t figured it out by now

We all see

through different lenses.


Don Quixote (misquoted)

There is a remedy

for all,

but death.


$11.59 philosophy

A prophet driving a taxi cab

preaching of the unlimited prospects

how it’s up to You

to achieve them.

I left $5.41 for a tip

and stepped out.


Lost Thoughts, a commercial

A charity devoted

to saving lost thoughts.

Millions are lost

each day.

Please donate.


once had a thought

it wasn’t good

stuck in my brain

until I understood

there’s nothing to get

just things to gain

and given enough time

watch fall away.


Professional Ambulance

11:18 p.m. in 60 degree July rain

waiting for summer

to finish its stupor.

A boy no older than me

broke his knee.

his friends’ heresay hinted

he added no more

than the usual weight

but the joint disagreed

and an ambulance came

“It’s broken,” the boy cried

the paramedics said nothing

just loaded him inside

awat through the night

without a sound

went a professional ambulance

with a drunken amateur

crying his fare for the ride.


Jesus Saves

hung perpendicular

on a telephone pole

60 feet off of 93 North

I wondered if that telephone poll

took someone’s life away.


Possessive Possessions

Things get lost,


They disappear

when you wish

they wouldn’t.


Philosophy of a Billboard

whiter teeth

wider smile

I wonder

if it’s right?


Midnight at my new apartment

I am outside on the curb

smoking a cigarette in silence

while a white cat

-sleek and keen-

and a black cat

-gruff and bold-

hunted in circles around me

There’s food and water

in porcelain bowls

on the porch of my new home

It wasn’t until five minutes

past midnight

that the black cat

climbed the wooden steps of the porch

while the white cat stalked away

I threw my extinguished smoke

in a dumpster and went to bed.


Love is a Rube Goldberg Invention

needlessly complicated

with unnecessary contraptions

leaving simplicity

confused and confounded

lying in bed

waiting for the axe

to cut the last string.


Filthy Rich

I took a shit

in a summer mansion

made for the Vanderbilts.

It was a surprise

to find the toilet paper

was single ply.


Ivan and Ivan


until both

were a goose

and time

plucked their feathers



In the end

I’m leaving

the way I came in

some may joke

there is not

a vagina that big,


I believe

Mother Nature

will arrange it.




there is wind

to me.”


I pointed

at a tree

with leaves rustling

in the breeze

and asked

‘do you see?’


When I find some clarity

I’ll cloud it up like tea

with milk, honey, and logical discrepancies

until it tastes so sweet

that I forget

it’s just dried, wet leaves.



Mr Show, while baking Chinese food at 3:22 a.m.

I will never find a poem

to match this title.



I once achieved

the finest of finery

in a sweet, sweet slumber.

I was seven at the time

believing kings

still existed.


Pen, Pocket, Notebook

They have become

a crutch.

too short

leaving me to stumble

through my own thoughts.


Realistic Dreams

I dream dreams

of reality,

But it never feels

the same,

So, I say

“It’s all fantasy!”

to get it out

of my way.



Sweet Dreams

They’ll disintegrate

your mind.

DRILLING holes through

your brain

like candy cavities

with teeth.

Sweet dreams, you say,

But I’ve got one too many fillings.


The Loft

drinking blue moon

with an orange floating

on top like a citric crater.

Wondering if doorhinge

is the answer

to the age old rhymefuck




Sadly, this isn’t my idea.

I finish my drink.


While you Sleep

Do you see firecracker bursts

while you sleep?

The thud of their detonation,

does it ring in your thoughts?

A bath in the blood

of imaginary foes

when rem takes hold?

Have you tasted

the maiden’s sweet lips?


Sunny-day, telephone call

You are the sunny-day, telephone call

that leaves every insult sunburnt and brittle

on the back of my tongue.

I won’t be the one to start the rain,

and you wouldn’t know a cloud

if it fell to earth in a final thanatic thrill,

and screamed, “LOOK AT ME!”

when it hit the ground

at your feet.





Regal Beagle Liquors – decisions and divisions

‘The chardonnay is crisp.

It refreshes with bite.

The riesling is smooth

with a sweet disposition,’

I said.

“I’ll get the riesling,”

my friend said.

‘Now, you wanted two white wines.

Don’t show up with two of the same brand.

Despite its deliciousness,

it will be poorly received.

A sauvignon blanc is a fan favorite

-but there’s a pinot grigio- the sweetest

oh nevermind,

the brand is the same as the Riesling.

Best to pick the Sauvignon.’


my friend decided.

With two bottles of white

to bring to dinner,

we walked up to the register

of Regal Beagle Liquors.


The cashier was an Indian man

with thickly rimmed, black glasses.

He reached for the bottles,

Riesling and Sauvignon Blanc,

in my friend’s grip.


I said,

cordially with a grin.

The cashier ignored the comment

sweeping both bottles underneath

the red lasers of the scanner.

The cashier pointed with a grunt

at the top of the register.

In digital green numbers,


stood out in 2 inch print.

My friend handed him a credit card.

The middle-aged, Indian cashier

swiped the plastic

and the deal was done.

A receipt printer wrote up the paperwork

the cashier placed the bottles

of Riesling and Sauvignon Blanc

in separate, brown, paper bags.

‘Thank you,’

I offered.

“Dhank ooh,”

the cashier tried to parrot.


My friend and I left

the middle-aged, Indian cashier

behind the register

of the Regal Beagle Liquor store

that night.

I often think back and wonder,

‘What is it like to be divorced from language?’




Smoking a cigarette on a city sidewalk

Gray leggings

with an extended white shirt

stretching from her neck

to her thighs,

covering everything

I want to see.

She doesn’t see me

or if she does

it is unacknowledged

as beauty crosses the street

leaves me standing alone

smoking a cigarette on a city sidewalk.




Man runs into Ex’s Mistress

(years after the ex fact)

Reason for the ex.


Man has contracted VD

in vengeance sleeps w/ girl

to give her VD (bacterial).


Ex’s Mistress gives Man

worse VD (viral)




The dance to stop time

The dance to stop time

takes an eternity to complete

-an infinite number of shuffles,

flairs and jazz fingers-

but my body feels older

than it is young,

as I match my tempo,

practice the moves of ceasing.


I’m nearly positive

it’s working.



Dead Cars

All the suburbs

became parking lots,

and all the cars died

of exhaustion.

Now, we live

in Flint graveyards

with Union manufactured


-dotting our asphalt plots-

personalized license plate inscriptions

of picturesque, stately scenes

to remind the next four generations

we existed.


A fight at Bad Abbot’s

An Irishman named paul

wanted to throw the first stone

but the trouble makers

diffused the situation

by walking away.

All it took was beer

times 2.




Birthday Blessing

I still contend

since your birth

the world has been a better place.

I’m sure once you die,

no one

will remember your name,

but I know it now

and now lasts an eternity.

So, let’s tangle our naked bodies

in a grotesque, celestial infinity.

Where we’ll suck every moment of pleasure

from each other’s existence.

How can you appreciate

the miracle of life,

if you don’t understand

the reality of death.




Burn out

I know a place where the sun once stood.

Long ago, far away, before its legs were turned to soot.

Its burning head was just a smolder then.




I saw it as red.

You saw it as green.

But we both knew

it was a yellow hue

of blue.




Sometimes I want to buy everything in the world,

Just so my life doesn’t feel empty.




The life of a teenager

is a life heaped in defeat.

before you’re used to it.



Dive Bar Baby

Dive bar, dive bar, dive bar baby,

drinking vodka and cranberry,

Dive bar, dive bar, dive bar baby.

Is she drunk or just plain crazy?

Is she looking for love?


Is she asking for money?


Does she want someone to kiss?

No.  No.  No.

She’s looking for a bathroom,

dive bar baby has to piss.






She had a face that screamed fear of something forever behind you.




Selection is a funny thing.

I think I remembered to choose.

The truth is I am indecisive.

I am not sure what my name is,

but if I had to guess,

I’d hope it was River

or Rain.

I’m pretty sure it’s Ted.



Oh Hell

He’ll laugh as I try to explain

What it was that made me this way.

He’ll say, “go to hell.”

I’ll laugh cause that’s where I came from.





I’m sick and tired

Of taking your shit.

I have decided

I’m done with it.

But you look magnificent in that dress with those white pearls around your neck.




I was seventeen the first time my reflection spoke to me.

“You don’t like living,” it said.

It was right.  Three hours later I slit my wrists in the upstairs bathroom.

I woke up a day later in the hospital, my father pale faced and haggard at my bedside.  He’d heard the thud of my body hitting the bathroom tiles, but missed what my reflection had to say.  I can’t blame him for worrying, he was working on limited information.





“Fuck you,”

said the trash can

to the bottle.

“I’m all full up,

waitin on a hungry bum

to empty me.”



Routed Routine

If you know someone’s route,

You can guess their routine.

If this is life,

I don’t feel like I’m living.



Saw Yer Ending

The pigeon’s left foot was missing two toes, leaving a three toed bird.

As we watch the pigeon limp from brick to brick and roll its feathers

She says to me, “I think that’s a bit of an understatement.”





From the top of a skyscraper,

all you can see,

are the tops of other skyscrapers.






2 in the morning

A beautiful child became a whore today.

I couldn’t help but stay up a little late.

The truth is


Often misconstrued

Lacking meaning

Stuck in my brain

She was once plump with prepubescent uncertainty,

until she was injected with clarifying tendencies,

or perhaps I romanticize the role of opiates.

Either way it’s 2 a.m. and I wish I knew what to say.






Does it

Am I recognized?  Do others stop when they look into my eyes?

Would they open their mouths to speak?  Are they talking in unison, whispering words among the meek?

I feel I am gray.  Perhaps I have clouded my perception of black and white situations fueling my life.

I’ll sift through this trash.  In hopes there is life hidden in caffeine stained cups and empty cigarette packs.

I doubt it is there, but possibly is a strong term and I adhere.

They still won’t look into my eyes.  I feel they crossed, staring at a single facet of promise and demise.

I have no color at all.  Does it matter to you, me, or the intricate ways of a falling, soot-stained snowflake?

Does it matter anyway?  Do I want any one to look at me?



Lady Lover

Lady lover pissed in the room beside my lie.

The tinkle of toilet water splashed against

her swollen thigh,

I closed my eyes and listened

as urine flushed away my semen,

stale, brittle, cracked,




She accused me of being a non-flushing pooper

But I always makes sure my waste goes down the drain.



Romeo and Juliet

This is the time, when my foot leaves the bridge.  I will fly or fall.  Either way I can’t wait to begin.


Please hold my hand, for this step’s about the biggest I’ll take.

I’ll make it worth your while.  I’ll kiss your lips, cheeks, and face.


To the edge we went.  Two lovers, glove-clasped hands.  Cling to wool, cotton, and winter’s chill.

The wind blows cold, but the air breathes.  I’ll give what I can, in hopes you give it back to me.

It is getting late


My dear we must be on our way.


Romeo, he leapt from bridge to black.

Juliet waited a second too late.

His shirttails fluttered down.

She hit the water and drowned

Romeo was lost before his foot left the bridge


Sad to say, their love should have died that day


what’s new?



A Message to my Brother

Tapes n’ tapes n’ tapes n’ tapes n’ tapes n’ tapes n’ tapes n’ tapes,

but no songs.

2:19 a.m. in Portland, Maine.

Tunnels of snow to smoke in,

while the city scenery scenically serenades snowflakes.

Too cold to smoke outside,

too illegal to smoke inside.

The womanly wind strikes impotent my effeminate lighter

I’ll dig deep into the drifts of snow,

to the very bottom,

or as close as I can go.

I’ll pass through the spine.

I’ll dig through its fat,

A ravenous animal intoxicated with nicotine.

To the very bottom,

or as close as I can go.

Until I have ripped apart every tunnel of snow.

Then I’ll tell my tale

I’ll scream before I realize,

no one’s particularly interested.

Revamp my statement with a digital recorder,

turn the tunnels, long departed,

into legends unmarred or raped by spring’s intrusion,

whored out for my personal amusement.

To remind the world about

Tapes n’ Tapes n’ Tapes n’ Tapes n’ Tapes n’ Tapes n’ Tapes n’ Tapes n’ Tapes.



Missouri Man

What do you say to a Missouri Man

thirty years your senior

double your drunkenness

twice the same size

when he hands you a golden dollar explaining

‘We’ve something in common’

‘We’ve met the same assholes’

‘We’ve got to get more beer’

‘I’m leaving in the morning’

‘I’m glad we met’


Where does the golden dollar goodbye go?

I put mine in my wallet

‘It’ll be there till the day I die’

Shake hands

‘have a safe flight.’

Ten years left with the Missouri man’s golden dollar goodbye

And now I wonder where it went.

If I had to guess

It was standing in checkout lines

With pack of cigarettes a dollar away from being mine

Goodbye golden dollar goodbye.




Boring Boredom

It’s repetitive.





Dead 3 weeks

Hair in a decomposing sea

Floating the decaying skin

in the air,

for all to see.

Staring where eyes used to be,

I get the impression

it can still see me.

It must be pissed.





I think of people as a s’mores marshmallow

being roasted over an open campfire

by a six-year-old child.

How many have been tossed

to the flames for amusement,

praying they’d be delicious?



Saving the Children

Saving the Children swam Her way through the Crowd

with perky Breasts looking happy as Her smile.

Pink flip-flopped feet on tip-toe

as she scanned Business heads

hoping one stood out.

“Hello,” She says.  “I like your tie.  Buy a child.

Only ten cents, and who doesn’t have ten cents these days?”

I’m sure she’ll succeed with her smile

feeding the World’s HaveNots

suckling on her perky Tits.



For What Purpose

Truth be told,

I gave up caring

a long time ago.


Another heartbreaking tale

of people being people hurting people

they love and know.



An Old Bum on a New Day

Walking down the same street

for the last fifty-three

goddamn years.


I bet He was an apprentice,

a journeyman learning His trade

in life.


Begging for change

with a Styrofoam cup

worth more than Him.


It was a Tuesday

when He quit.


He asked a business suit

for money, change,



“Sorry,” the Suit said.

“I only have plastic

for pants.”


“Fuck it,” said the Bum of Boylston,

and threw down His life’s savings,

with a clink.


I wondered whom They’ll get to replace him.




You’re as hot as

a quart of strawberries

spilt in the gutter

of a summer, city street,


with a used condom underneath.





My freedom is bought ten hours a day

for ten dollars an hour

with twenty-five percent taken out in taxes,

and five percent returned once a year

to keep me grateful.



I’d Call

I’d call you from Cambridge,

my phone in hand.

Nowhere near Harvard Sq.

from the central circle,

where the bums bum American Spirits

and talk in languages I don’t understand.

What train did I take

to get here?

I’d call you from Cambridge

but my phone’s dead.



Late Night Pizza Line after the Bar

“Leave it alone, or I’ll fuck you like a bitch.”

“I don’t know why she says his dick’s small.”

“You’re a bitch.”

“Youda man.”


“Get away from me! I’m gonna puke.”

“Best sales on drunk shopping every week.”

“Can I get a slice of cheese?”

“We only have pepperoni.”

“but I’m vegetarian.”

“What are you writing?”

Absolutely nothing.




Life Line Riddle

How do you put a lifetime’s worth of living

into a single line?

a – between two dates.





Living in a City too long

You talk to squirrels

as if they were bums.

“Ain’t got nothing for ya,”

you mumble,

but they don’t listen.




Maine Clarity

I was driving through Maine,

when I had a moment

of clarity.

It just came to me.

I became excited,

beyond belief.

Everything of the universe

spun in perfect alignment

within a single phrase.

I felt like a prepubescent

slaying Bowser for the first time.

A plumber’s love requited

as always it should be

forever more.

I drove on

and on

and on,

until I crossed the Piscataqua

and watched it jump from the bridge.



Sensual Coffee


I hate you,

like sex.

How can I live without you?





in hong kong

the bar


traded my i.d.

for a purple bracelet

just to smoke an american spirit,

refuse to capitalize words in anger

goddamn, this cigarette is glorious.





Two way love notes with a third party twist on a slender napkin.

I am Horny


(heart) Ch—–


I can Tell.

My Ear is Bitten.

(heart) J—-aroo


I really want

to Fuck You

So Bad.

(heart) Ch—–


I want to cum

on your belly.

(heart) J—-aroo


That’s not that

hot of a thing

to say.

Say something



I want to Fuck You

until Your Voice grows

hoarse from screaming


(heart) J—-aroo


I want You

to fill Me up

with Your Cum.

Well, I do.

(heart) Ch—–


I want to sleep

Outside Tonight

(heart) Joe.




My love punched me in the throat,

So, I called the Police

to protect me.


They arrived an hour later,

when we were passed out

in each other’s arms.


I answered the door naked

my penis limp between my legs

crusted with an hour’s worth of sexual fluids.


“Did you call for us?”

Policeman number 1 asked.

“A life threatening situation?”

Policeman number 2 finished.


“Too late,” I replied

with a wave to my flaking member.

“I’m already dead.”





11:59 p.m.

My Love wrote this on the T for me.

You know how

you are spaste

call if you see

any thing spices

It would be funny

to Call about

that guy in the

cream pants

About his weird

Leg it looks

Sepices to me.




My love was allergic to cum.

My orgasms caused quite the commotion.



Rape, Murder, Aborted, Love

One of these things is not like the others.

Rats attacking Parisian esplanades.

Maniacal umpires referencing denounced educational resources.

Acidic bologna orders rotting together everywhere.

Lucid omnivores violating ethics.

One of these things is quite absurd.




Sitting on a Toilet

Squeezing out a poop,

feels like my brains

will come out my anus

and splash

into the piss water below.

Once heard cigarettes are a laxative


I smoke.

Out it comes

in a torrent of overzealous diarrhea.


I angrily muttered.





Deadeye Dick

Deadeye Dick,

by any other name,

is still a half-blind fucker.






Every major social movement

ends as a retro-fashion statement.


coordinate your clothes carefully,

your socks may have changed history.





Holy Diet

Why did god make me fat?”

an anorexic girl asked her mirror.

“He doesn’t like you,”

her reflection responded.





“Stop making fun of my name,”

the cock-a-too said.

The Peacock nodded,

“You and Me both, brother.”





I’ve been chewing on a graham cracker

For 2 years.

It’s starting to get stale.





Marsh and Malkmus met in a meadow to sing.

But a lark disagreed and things got ugly.






Some things never change

The moustaches of Nevsky


the sunglasses of Newbury.

All the while, dentists were second best

at shooting bullets through their heads.

Did they aim for the temple?




If the sun was gonna fall

Give it no place to go.

If the sun was gonna fall

Give it no place to go.

If the sun was gonna fall

Don’t you let it fall nowhere.



Say la with a “v”




How long does it take

for smoke

to dissipate

once the fire’s been extinguished?



So close so far

With our headphones on,

I pretend

we’re listening to the same song.





My sheets are stained

From the thought of you

Last night.




Mad Lib

I would marry you in [a heartbeat],

and divorce you with [a blink].

Only [a second] passing between.

The [        ]  life of love on its way to die.




City killing Country

I saw a man vacuuming leaves off the street.

The country invading the city but the city fought back.




You could be handed a pot of gold

And complain it hurt your back to lift.



Allegory I think

We were trying to build a castle out of dry sand

when a wave hit.

It was then we were able to see exactly how our kingdom should have been built.

but the sun stole it away,





To be

I found my sanity

lying in a gutter reading poetry

to the rats and the trash and the soles of passing feet.




I only know of 10 things set in stone.

I disagree with half of those.




Random scrap of paper I found in my room while cleaning.

“Orgasm!” is the word it ends on.

Nothing else.  Just that written neatly at the top with nothing else on the page.




I’m still learning the everyday

Magic tricks

Walking barefoot through the fire

Awwing at the sleight of hand


of those I’ve come to know.





I pity Merlin,

living his life in reverse.

Knowing the lesson before

the mistake was ever made.

Having to make it anyway.





Oh Alana,

You are where clocks are not clocks,

Yet there is time.

Even if there is no reason

to call this a woo-able line.





I don’t think you’re wrong

cause I don’t believe there’s a right

and that’s left me

alone in the past

like a poorly wrapped present.



Devil sat on a street corner

laughing at people

pointing at the sky

“Bang,” he said

one man died.


World domination

and $20 bikes

let’s all laugh

til we cry

Whether hell or highwater,

it don’t take much

to die.


he talked like a stand up comedian

without an audience

and already knew it

from a long time of empty rooms.




I can’t fall asleep

without a t.v. talking to me,

putting my mind to ease

with scripted love and tragedies.



He was married at 19

and divorced at 23,

saying commitment

is a devotion to delusion

cause nothing stays the same.



He said,

“I live to give.

“Even though

it’s queer as shit to say.”



I feel like Giuseppe

with a bull whip and leather hat.

I feel like Giuseppe

trying to tame his passions.

I feel like Dmitri

pounding the pouch on his chest.

I feel like Dmitri

trying to stay better than myself.



I know a man who’s sad

because he has nothing

to cry about.



I know a girl who got stuck

on a molehill

after scaling a mountain.


She looks lonely to


in a gown

barefoot with her hair


singing sad songs

in a beautiful melody




I fucked up

so, I said

Fuck it

in hopes of


this stain



She treats God

like a friend

she forgot to keep

in touch with.


we used to sit

together just.

Now, we sit

side by side.






I like that you drink the honey of this busy bee.


I believe in the unbelievable, so, I believe in you too.


Philosophical musings of an Idiot


What if I were not me?


What happens, when I am not me, anymore?


I’m not anything other than me.


I still sing when I don’t have mic in front of me.


What if the knight of the rueful countenance wasn’t crazy?


I want to be an idiot of the lion-mouse edict.


Did Rube Goldberg sketch the machinations of love.


I’ve passed the point of caring.


I have lovers not loves.


possessive possessions


possessing the person


I’ve never had a better friend than music, and I’m sorry for all who turned blue from that lyric.


Even in the darkness you shine.


All the polar bear cub wanted was to believe it.


So, how can the solution be as simple as a yes?


Tonight, we talked about sticking our dicks in musical instruments. This made us laugh for several minutes.


The pipe, a device used to make nothing seem like something.


I expected a shit storm, but nothing shat.


Do not be upset that you happen to be a character in this story.  It could have happened to anyone.


For committing violent acts upon your smile, the detectives weren’t happy.


I’m getting uglier by the day, but so are you.


walking home on lightning bolts.


The happiest smile I’ve seen was a toothless grin.


I stand around town in poses.


I’ll babble incoherently, until you have no regard for me.


Win like you’re used to it.  Lose like you like it.


9/11 is our generations JKF assassination.


hiding in the sun.


I love creators and fuck creations

to see if the character feels shame in degradation.


How many steps did it take to stand here?


halfway to heaven.


I’m as lost as a cabbie on his first day.


The love llama of Newport.  Let’s call him Larry.


You need to remove yourself from the situation before the situation removes you from yourself.


I would paint you with the oil of my fingers.


the sahara’s just a morning glory, blooming once every 20,000 years.


I prefer Heracles to Hercules.  There’s just something about originals.


I’ll speak in soliloquy until someone starts a dialogue with me.


I’ll be the listener to your story.


Clap like a fairy is dying.


I’ve got 11 stories,

before you begin.


I had a coke

with a man who shared the same name as me

He told me stories of who he used to be.

-how it was the earth that changed not he-

when he ran to his wife and a newborn baby

he laugh as he talked and shook his head at his own naivety

It’s the world that changed, he said. not me.

When he left, I walked to work in a light rain

tinged with winter’s freeze

not thinking much as I walked by the city’s million faces.

They looked lonely to me.


There’s a reality

There’s a fantasy

I believe they’ll intersect for me.


Maybe I look crazy

when I speak

these thoughts.


Maybe I look crazy

when I repeat

these thoughts.



I will wake in the morning

to see night is gone

leaving only strewn sheets

and day’s light punching

through windows and cracked walls

screaming sunbeams in my face

like infidelities in a repetitions call


Some girls train

to be sexual

so you call her

a whore

when she won’t sleep

with you.



On the darkest of nights

not even dawn

restores my sight.


I live in a sun room

with all of the curtains




I’m having trouble

differentiating between

clothes and your skin.



it’s a god eat god world

and I don’t care for the entrée.


we connect through media,

cause life is quite busy.


I saw a pigeon taking the stairs.



I could take a walk

for a while

maybe you’d walk

with me.


I could go to sleep

for a while

maybe you’d sleep

with me.



Celebrate the small victories

cause the big ones leave casualities.





I’m just looking for the black hole horizon of my days.

Hoping the death of one will explain the rest away.

But I’m still stuck with a three-dimensional body

built of a one dimensional make believe.

When you think long enough,


never equals 4,

it just gets mirrored

for equality’s sake.



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