Thursday, August 28, 2014

semi-truck control failure/ icy roads/ trying to sleep in a dream/ can’t shake it off/ movie theater brutality/ adolescent rage/ dream amnesia/ worn out places/ climbed up the arm of a goliath/ drunken triangle-armbar/ failure/ self-doubt/ fear of reflections

Collegiate Quandary

life is brimming
teething on the teat
early morning motherly sun

the day has only yet begun
with legs outstretched
& ready to run

come children—
let us have our fun
before this day is done

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Glass Colored Acid Soundtrack

I feel like I won the lottery
through shell games
& white picket fences

I’m in the winners circle
circling my own tail
going counterclockwise—
for eternity

endlessly beginning
this never ending plotline
while jumping out
a window of time

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Oh whats a feeling Sunday brings, oh how those three little birds sing. I hope everyone is able to have a majestic day. We have inherited this earth and generations after us will inherit it as well, so let’s take care of it & love one another in the process. Peace & positive vibes to all.

Wailing Souls - Oh What A Feeling

(Source: Spotify)

Thursday, August 21, 2014

Over The Top! Over The Line!

locked horns
& crossed swords

over words

funhouse mirror syndrome
hyper hypocritical heathens

we sat
taking opposite sides
of who we really are

you, poison sprayer
naysayer, arguing
for keeping ones’ feelings
unexpressed to the person
of interest

while I,
backwards butt-fucked believer,
historically the worlds greatest underachiever
made a case for expressing oneself
to the intended recipients face

it was all a sham.
you speak your mind more often
more than anyone I know. unabashed
& never regretful. I, full of shame,
bite my tongue, for I have tasted
more of my blood
than I’ve tasted of my words.

oh, such a wicked ploys. useless toys.
these machismo arm-wrestling matches.
these manly rock throwing games.

fingers over braille
forged in flames
by the blind blacksmith

with hammer in hand
smashing dreams into
nightmares made of steel

he could feel
every piercing movement
made by his cold children

buried refrigerators/ meth dealers/ near-sighted concealers/ ancient shamen/ true supernatural healers/ gram filled swisher sweets/ fell asleep/ gave them their supply in the morning/ SWAT team stormed the premises without warning/ woke up to a front porch thunder storm/ troopers in black boots

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Bear Trap Tricks

we’ve walked backward
in the footsteps of prophets
who have been erased or exploited
with the constantly extending arm of time

we’ve locked the devil in the attic
singing our nightly unholy hymns
and we’ve made god sleep outside
(in the doghouse)

everything gets easier
with each passing minute
everything fades & dissolves
into a morose & melancholic song

so sing along with me
and you’ll realize that free
is a concept that we’ll never be

I Don’t Burn My Bridges, I Cross Them

aimed for the moon
but didn’t even make it
out of earth’s stratosphere

shifting gears
ground the clutch down
to pencil shavings

misbehaving children
need to have their heads dipped
in a swirling toilet bowl

god bless her
her sister too

who took care of me
when I was a child
because my mother
had the cocaine blues

& I had it too
in my newborn bloodstream
powder white american dream

Wheelin’ & Feelin’

mnemonic device powered by dry ice
an invisible heist will suffice
snake-eyed dice

rolled over
not once,
not twice,
but thrice.

color me blessed
take my beating heart
out of my open chest

remember me
for what I didn’t do
and forget all the rest

pomegranate tastebuds
betwixt your legs I tasted love

caught off guard
by your flood
of emotion

may I bask forever, here,
in this roseate ocean

bronze trinket promises/ false idols speak the truth/ jogging down a city block/ saw Tupac watering his garden of roses/ quick hand-off, followed by a Barry Sanders-esque spin move/ a pat on the back/ nice moves little man/ the house is on fire/ reefer madness/ su-su-summertime sadness

Sunday, August 17, 2014


we must deal their cards
like masters’ of the flying guillotine
sleight of hand with Joker venom
dismantling the system
from the inside.

we must lead
a pragmatic rebellion
between the pipes
a butterfly-stance

a plane crash with no evidence // other than missing persons

ghosts have withdrawn cash // debt carries over to the afterlife

I broke my neck in the dark // after I felt I deserved closure

strapped for cash // diamond-studded strap-on

the bodies littered the streets
like scattered trash

human ash remains
caught in a passing breeze

she held her hand tightly
the little girl
looked up at her


Yes sweetheart.

Where did all these people come from?

They were angels who didn’t have the strength
to make it to heaven.

But Mommy, then where are we?



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