swimmer made of stone
prides himself stronger than tides
unbroken, he sinks
Friday, July 29, 2016
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
[from gramma's deathbed]
from gramma's deathbed
she says, "the preview looks good"
movie she won't see
she says, "the preview looks good"
movie she won't see
Monday, July 25, 2016
Wednesday, July 20, 2016
Friday, July 15, 2016
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Sunday, July 10, 2016
[stale breadcrumbs of fear]
stale breadcrumbs of fear
pride is an awful compass
map that gets us lost
[sharks will take the helms]
sharks will take the helms
when crews cannot trust captains
no ship stays afloat
Atone, Thief!
you have robbed me
and of far more than monies
i count the pages i write
when you are not around
juxtapose that number
to the number i write when you are
there is a great difference
i look across café tables at empty chairs
where a beautiful woman could be sitting
if you hadn't chased them all away
and in the mornings after a night with you
i look in the mirror to see you've been taking
my life itself
right from the flash in my face
from my bones
from my eyes
from my heart
asked by you
to dance so often over the years
i was convinced it was because you loved me
now i see
you just wanted close enough to pick my pocket
and of far more than monies
i count the pages i write
when you are not around
juxtapose that number
to the number i write when you are
there is a great difference
i look across café tables at empty chairs
where a beautiful woman could be sitting
if you hadn't chased them all away
and in the mornings after a night with you
i look in the mirror to see you've been taking
my life itself
right from the flash in my face
from my bones
from my eyes
from my heart
asked by you
to dance so often over the years
i was convinced it was because you loved me
now i see
you just wanted close enough to pick my pocket
Self-Conceptualize
if all you ever saw was the stars
then what reasons would you have
to believe you are not the moon
if all you ever felt was burning
then evidence could be suggested
that you are the fire
when you look in the right ways
and dream in the right ways
you can be anything you want
then what reasons would you have
to believe you are not the moon
if all you ever felt was burning
then evidence could be suggested
that you are the fire
when you look in the right ways
and dream in the right ways
you can be anything you want
Exorcisms Aren't for Everybody
sometimes
Hell
is
a
man's
favorite
spot
sometimes
sin
is
good, for some like it hot
sometimes
these
demons
are
all
that
you
got
Hell
is
a
man's
favorite
spot
sometimes
sin
is
good, for some like it hot
sometimes
these
demons
are
all
that
you
got
On My Way
i've had this cell for a little over four years
numbers and letters on each button almost completely worn away
typing this poem on this phone is no simple task
but appropriate
because this poem is about hanging on
and nowhere is my hanging on more apparent
than the inbox on this phone
now
i've deleted all the heavy romantic swill
the "i'm thinking of you"s
the " i'm missing you"s
the "i'm falling for you"s
and definitely anything heavier than that
especially all the texts from the last serious one
but of all the short flings i've had
since i've had this phone
i have saved all of their "on my way"s
i could pretend that i don't know why
but i do
cause on nights like tonight
when no one is on the way
it's nice to scroll through the phone
and be reminded of when someone was
numbers and letters on each button almost completely worn away
typing this poem on this phone is no simple task
but appropriate
because this poem is about hanging on
and nowhere is my hanging on more apparent
than the inbox on this phone
now
i've deleted all the heavy romantic swill
the "i'm thinking of you"s
the " i'm missing you"s
the "i'm falling for you"s
and definitely anything heavier than that
especially all the texts from the last serious one
but of all the short flings i've had
since i've had this phone
i have saved all of their "on my way"s
i could pretend that i don't know why
but i do
cause on nights like tonight
when no one is on the way
it's nice to scroll through the phone
and be reminded of when someone was
Sometimes You Forget To Punch Out
I won't tell ya that Chuck was the meanest motherfucker,
but he was pretty goddamn mean.
Last customers gone,
my personal iPod hooked up to the house speakers,
and Chuck walked in.
He left me alone about the drink at my hand,
he left me alone about the music that was playing,
but he didn't leave me alone for very long.
Shortly after heading to the basement-office,
he came back up stairs.
He asked me,
“What Daniel are you?”
Everyone else called me Danny;
“Daniel” referred to another waiter;
but Chuck went by the w-2,
and only told us apart by last name.
“Price,”
I said.
“Oh,”
he responded
“it's the other idiot I'm looking for,”
and began to walk away again.
Then
he came back.
“But You're the idiot that keeps forgetting to punch out,”
he screamed,
and I cringed.
As he continued to denigrate me for the next minute and some seconds,
I contemplated murdering him.
But Chuck could not be killed.
People tried.
Pushed him down the stairs of the restaurant,
shot him,
pushed him down the stairs, again.
The fucker was invincible!
So I apologized,
and said,
“Yes, sir,
I'll make sure to punch out,
from now on.”
“Good!”
he exclaimed.
Still not enough of a victory for Chuck,
as he walked away for the last time, he added,
“Ya punch-in, ya punch-out,
ya fuckin' moron!”
but he was pretty goddamn mean.
Last customers gone,
my personal iPod hooked up to the house speakers,
and Chuck walked in.
He left me alone about the drink at my hand,
he left me alone about the music that was playing,
but he didn't leave me alone for very long.
Shortly after heading to the basement-office,
he came back up stairs.
He asked me,
“What Daniel are you?”
Everyone else called me Danny;
“Daniel” referred to another waiter;
but Chuck went by the w-2,
and only told us apart by last name.
“Price,”
I said.
“Oh,”
he responded
“it's the other idiot I'm looking for,”
and began to walk away again.
Then
he came back.
“But You're the idiot that keeps forgetting to punch out,”
he screamed,
and I cringed.
As he continued to denigrate me for the next minute and some seconds,
I contemplated murdering him.
But Chuck could not be killed.
People tried.
Pushed him down the stairs of the restaurant,
shot him,
pushed him down the stairs, again.
The fucker was invincible!
So I apologized,
and said,
“Yes, sir,
I'll make sure to punch out,
from now on.”
“Good!”
he exclaimed.
Still not enough of a victory for Chuck,
as he walked away for the last time, he added,
“Ya punch-in, ya punch-out,
ya fuckin' moron!”
In The Eye of the Beholder
the orange glow of the street lamps
slipped through the cracks in the blinds
as we fucked on her roommates bed
no music playing
no sounds except for
the crescendos of our heaving bodies
skins peeling from the adhesive dampness of lust
it was the kind of moment i had dreamed about
in adolescence
a perfect celebration of adulthood
and though it was the beginning
of something that would grow ugly
on that first night together
we were beautiful
slipped through the cracks in the blinds
as we fucked on her roommates bed
no music playing
no sounds except for
the crescendos of our heaving bodies
skins peeling from the adhesive dampness of lust
it was the kind of moment i had dreamed about
in adolescence
a perfect celebration of adulthood
and though it was the beginning
of something that would grow ugly
on that first night together
we were beautiful
Yoga Pants
tightly pinched
against her ass
the black fabric begins a story
that I become eager to finish
against her ass
the black fabric begins a story
that I become eager to finish
The Fire Hydrant Blues
soldier that never leaves his post
steadily at arms
easily found
i am always there when you need me
but
you only need me when shit is burning
steadily at arms
easily found
i am always there when you need me
but
you only need me when shit is burning
The Flower of Damnation
from what hell do i bloom?
the sun could be no more of a stranger to me
yet my stem continues to reach upward
and my petals still open
to welcome a warmth
that does not come
my being is not photosynthetic
it is a heretic
my existence ought not be watered and grown
but clipped and coffined
yet
planted like a gravestone
in a place the light never finds
hidden behind an everlasting shadow
i keep blooming
the sun could be no more of a stranger to me
yet my stem continues to reach upward
and my petals still open
to welcome a warmth
that does not come
my being is not photosynthetic
it is a heretic
my existence ought not be watered and grown
but clipped and coffined
yet
planted like a gravestone
in a place the light never finds
hidden behind an everlasting shadow
i keep blooming
Like Nobody, Like Son
"was it hard growing up like that? without a dad?"
eh,
it was it was
"but, like, who taught you how to throw a baseball?"
uhh,
nobody
"well, who taught you how to play guitar?"
my uncle rick,
and one of the guys from Spooky Mojo
"but who taught you how to be a man?"
uhh,
nobody
eh,
it was it was
"but, like, who taught you how to throw a baseball?"
uhh,
nobody
"well, who taught you how to play guitar?"
my uncle rick,
and one of the guys from Spooky Mojo
"but who taught you how to be a man?"
uhh,
nobody
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