Poetry

role calls

the things I want aren’t behind the bar but the things that I need are. role call:         oblivion, are you here?         Stupor – ok.         memory loss – good, glad to see you.         control – Excellent. We didn’t want you anyway.         If social sensibilities are here, please leave now.         numb? Numbness? Are you here? goddamnit, numbness … Read morerole calls

Hard to say

OK – here it is. I’m torn about releasing this one. It doesn’t really have a title, per se, but it’s been called “Amerika”, “3 Thousand mile Love”, “God damn piece of shit”, and others. Either way, I wrote it in January, 2004 over the course of about 5 very sleepless days. Of the 6 public readings this poem has had, the introduction that was closest to the truth was, “I slit my wrists and bled out onto the page.” Of all the poems that have kept me up, this one was the worst. I don’t think I can convey just how personal this poem is to me. Everytime I read it, I well up with tears and choke on my words. When I’ve read it publicly, it always comes with a lot more pauses than I’ve written into it. It is with great reluctance, but even more promises to share it, that I post it now.
It came from an argument I got into in front of a coffee shop with … well, let’s just say that they weren’t the best debaters. It ended with them saying, “This is America – love it or leave it!”

Read moreHard to say

The Sexy Nurse

every whore is worthless;except for their pain.that’s worth something – to me.it’s cold.i drink tea i made.i eat soup i made.i sleep alone,shadows painting monsterson the ceiling;with sirens wailingtheir curses at me.“No.” I’ll say it again,“I don’t hate you.”I just don’t like to fuck you.you can say it in any language you want,but I know … Read moreThe Sexy Nurse

Childish Dreams

Sweet little doll, you’ve never said a word. You’ve been on my mind, you may have heard Your momma and I, we aren’t really talking It’s been a long time since I went a-walking. If my memory serves, you’d be almost 8 And in my dreams, honey you’re doing great. When you lost your first … Read moreChildish Dreams

Tiger Lilly

Such Boldness you display,your orange to take my blue away -how fierce are youlying in the brambles?No fear of shredding -you prey, my eyes;Feast on my heart!There is nothing gentlein your hypnotic sway,like your namesakeborn to playthese strings to my soul;summer days grow coldyou warm these nightswithout stars – not enough lightat midnight we never … Read moreTiger Lilly

Army Surplus

How many playgrounds
will you give me for this tank?
I’ve got a helicopter with cannons
for a school on a river bank.
We’ve got a lot of bullets
and a bunch of useless bombs;
Can I trade these in
to help out some single moms?
I can’t really think
of a time that I’d need
a machine gun to kill
a thousand, indeed.
perhaps you could take
all this extra stuff,
and instead give the homeless
a life less gruff.
perhaps we could send
130,000 troops
into New York to feed
the hungry on their stoops.
With this much extra,
why stop there?
We could be feeding
everyone, everywhere!
And imagine all the children
playing with their toys,
rather than them screaming
from the bombing’s noise.
If all of that is not enough,
I’ve got a nuclear submarine
to put up to auction
for the American Dream.

Read moreArmy Surplus

Nothing is what it Says

I read Economic reports on Iraq.I read the constitution.Nothing is what it says.(These are lies being written)I read Workplace Handbooks.I read Investor Prospectus’.Nothing is what it says.(There’s an old hat on my head)I read history books.I read poetry.Nothing is what it says.(my heart has never broken)I read instructions for my vaccuummee.I read the lease agreement.Nothing … Read moreNothing is what it Says

Soapbox Artist: collecting art & literature of the worst kind