What you provoke in me,
it’s something unknown.
What is attached to me
holds to the bone.
Between a hollow scream and a sob
I lie bare and throbbing, motionless,
silent raging hurt,
but I can’t feel pain from so much good. You,
pallid moonlight in a dirty puddle,
just an armlength from a cuddle,
another day to blind and muddle,
waiting for you now.
“We fill our bodies
with drink […]
take to the streets
[…]
stare into the sun
until
our eyes learn to
see […]
[They] throw
fistfuls of clammour [sic]
at the waning
gibbous,
forgetting [her]
face
when [she] was at
[her] biggest […]
[They] shout
gibberish gusto
with clammering
[sic] sonation,
[their] patience
preceded by
careful gestation.”
[A] howl from the
future
betrayed by [her]
past,
the [t/c]owering
erection [sic]
flies at half mast.
last week’s mayonnaise
lingers in the sun
like so many fallen scoops
from so many waffle cones
BLT slop
from a passerby maw
makes a pretty bauble;
oleo gob
she’s clutching her pearls,
he’s clutching his snack;
they share a single synchronous
heart attack.
(WHEN) I heard them say
the boys were back in town
with dicks in hand
and faces in frowns,
I saw they’d let their
hair grow long, wore
different shoes, sang
different songs,
(AND) I met them on that
stretch of street
we used to spray with
vomit heat.
(WHEN) I heard them say
they’d come again
every year ‘til
we were men,
(THEN) I told them not to
go so soon, to
tip the chick who
poured our booze
(AS) I shook their hands
they turned to go
away from what
we all called home;
(AND) I left them on that
stretch of road where
dinner’s remnants
freely flowed,
(FOR) I knew them best
in gutter tracts,
stinking emptied
stomach sacks;
(THEN) their shadows
melted into night,
high-top kicks,
denim tight;
(AND) I forgot about
how we got sick
from the twenty whisky
jaegar trick
(AND) I forgot until
I touched my prick
that we were men
with swagger sticks,
(AND) I walk that street
when the thunder rains
the flashes scream
our opus stain.
Bryan Cranston shaved his head in the name of science;
No more worries of split ends
cooking meth with best of friends.
Bryan Cranston wore a hat in the name of fashion;
Too much trouble dog-eat-doggin’
with a sunburn on your noggin’.
Bryan Cranston won an emmy in the name of valour;
With a white knight in your corner
never hungry’s Jackey Horner.
Melanie Griffith covered up her tattoo of Antonio Banderas in the name of […]
Copyright infringement?
lamp posts getting smaller
or
lamp posts getting larger
today lamp posts are getting smaller
high rise bungalows
on the way home
belching flames top pencil towers
promise warmth of hearth
smoke and mirrors
fallen fingers miss the sky
stubby
where they smelt it
dented walls squeeze tight
smothering the less intrepid
in their love embrace
as the clouds stream on
as the sun grows dim
as the wind rages
there are no birds on the wire
to I spy
looking anywhere but the vanishing point
Feats of urgency keep us limber,
silent axes hewing timber;
Feats of expediency keep us slender,
hammer dents on rusty fenders.
The only thing that matters when you’re
steamy and hot
is where’s the nearest room with a
functioning lock;
Forget about your clothes and how much
money you’ve got
and find the darkest cellar that could
use a restock;
The drink is flowing heavy and your
bodies are taught
so grab the nearest sweet thing and
cut the sweet talk;
When time is of the essence and your
essence is hot
it’s time to punch the ticket ‘til you
punch out the clock.
Feats of urgency are fulfilling,
keeps the body young and willing;
Feats of expediency are divinity
two minds, one body: the blessed trinity.
googled boobs are real boobs too
I have seen boobs today
googled boobs and tubes of lube
I safe search when I play
—————————–>but
googled dicks aren’t real dicks like boobs
dicks this day stood boobs adjacent
when dicks don’t dwell alone and well
those dicks don’t count in daily statements
The world in a mode at this local node
trembles in a shivering display
of the strength of its might, of the pluck of its fight
to the tune of a thunderous slay;
ice on the wound as a smile is consumed
off the cuff with a wink on the beat,
drowning out the sweet sound, the needle dropped down
on the spectacle splitting the sheets;
fire in the void as a clipped sinusoid
flickers on phasing on in succession,
sketching out the dasein – a faint whiff of pine –
the thrust nightly whispered confession.
basement dark
outside light
corn chip crisp
snowfall white
coffee cold
body sore
ordered pizza
locked front door;
bottles were piling
robe was askew
doorbell now ringing
genitals poked through;
sunlight subsided
darkness prevailed
Hobbits were walking
corn chip now stale.
The pizza lay cheesy
consumed on the floor
having not made it
three steps from the door;
The pizza lay greasy
alone by the door
having just fed me
what should have fed four.
left foot in blanket
right foot exposed
Sauron was watching
frostbitten toes
whiskey gone missing
vittles long spent
the age of men
didn’t pay the rent
stock the pantry
change the sheets
feed the ficus
water meat
cola half empty
flat and forlorn
a senseless victim
of a winter’s storm.
Fragments of the living. Pieces of the dead.