What would a blog be without some poems?

These are some of the poems I've written over the years. I haven't dated most of them, but they all date from about 2007-present (unless otherwise specified). Some have titles and some don't. Some of these (probably most) were written to friends for some reason or another. Yep. PRETTY COOL.

Jerk.

He tries to hide his sneezes

You know, muffle them and hold them in

It’s so annoying

Every time he does that I want to hit that idiot in the face

If he gets a brain aneurysm I won’t feel sorry for him

Villanelle – Villain Hell

I give you now a villanelle
Similar to the rondeau form
But born and bred in the depths of Hell

As a lurker in the darkness I dwell
I keep myself safe from the storm
Secure and dry within my cell

Down here there is an ancient smell
Of something soft and warm
It seems that you have cast a spell

How I arrived here, I think I fell
And upon my body spiders swarm
No one can hear me when I yell

This hole acts as my protective shell
While I sit and think and transform
I'll never escape, it's just as well

What I'm seeing I will not tell
It's far beyond the norm
From a distance I hear the bell
And I must tell you all farewell

You

I must also state, with a tone quite imperative
That our friends with their poems so swiftly shared
Is as unoriginal as a Quentin Tarantino narrative
For this is a trend that you and I prepared

There will be no forgiveness for their offense
They lack our passion, our power, our sense
How we both compose our prose like that of a prince
They will never be as sincere, convincing or intense

Their arsenal consists of elementary rhymes
The kind you can buy 24 of with only two dimes
Their work is foolish, and childish, and seems to be rushed
They will be annihilated, decimated, obliterated and crushed.

Rolo

Hello Rolo, we meet again
Not as opponents, but just as men
Check yourself, at the door
Gimme some more, gimme some more
And draw your gun when I count to ten...

Unicorn

A horse that has a long hard horn
Is known in the commonwealth as a unicorn
Please get your words straight
Because Chris, I would hate
To kill you and defend the oath I've sworn

My oath to Ingrid, my magical pet
Who sees your presence as a threat
I'll try to tame the fire in her soul
But she's a beast I cannot control
So it seems your ill chosen words you will regret

I am a Man

Hello my friend, I write to thee
With utmost happiness you see
I hope my message will appeal
To what you know and what you feel
In this great form of poetry

To share with you a light decree
Would encourage you to agree
I'll take off my cape to reveal
An image you'd find so surreal
I AM A MAN!

Here we are, down in Tennessee
And I give you this guarantee
That I shall now cease to conceal
That which I know you find ideal
I AM A MAN!

Eat

I JUST WANNA EAT YOU FOR LUNCH
TAKE YOU TO A PLACE WHERE I CAN MUNCH
ON YOUR GREASY BONES
HEAR YOUR SOFT, SQUEAKY MOANS
AND SAVE SOME FOR TOMORROW'S BRUNCH

Friends

I've called you much worse in our years as friends
But it's OK because our love transcends
All boundaries that the world has built
For two men sitting together on a quilt
So my words are negligible as my love muscle extends

OK, Josh

My children hate you, I know this because they tell me

"He's too nice, daddy, he said he wouldn't even sell me"

They can't handle being given attention and compassion

They want a father who will watch them starve and not take action

My women, you see, are all really quite bland

So I've rather enjoyed replacing them all with my hand

So put your tongue in their mouths, your hand up their skirts

You're all just a bunch of slimy, dirty, misguided perverts

I am rubber and you are glue

Everything you say to me is simply untrue

They're all lies, filthy, sickening loaded words

They smell like your ass, your lofty brown bloated turds

Speaking of you fucking up all my shit

Let's talk about suicide: IT'S TIME TO COMMIT!

I'm tossing grenades in your general direction

Praying that I can give you a burning, vicious infection

I'm cumming real hard on your Neil Diamond collection

This is my only known way to show you affection

Besides fucking your mouth without any protection

You said you aced the Modern test, well I’ve got one correction

Even with length contraction I’ve got a mile long erection

Only because I can see my own reflection

In the shiny blade I use as I perform your post-mortem dissection

That's all I've got for you this evening sweetie
I hope you enjoyed it, ...

fucking QED.

Motor Chariot

Very sly work, you pernicious old bum

But listen to THIS poem, it'll make you cum

I ride my motorcycle across the land

But there's something about it you must understand

It's not just an engine, two wheels and exhaust

It's my chariot to those forgotten old days that are long lost

My bike, you see, is extremely loud and roaring

Whence upon that seat I feel quite proud, and I'm soaring

I ride with my bike club in the cool mountain air

As that breeze blows through my long sexy hair

But am I able to absorb and adore

All of this fantastic and lovely mountain decor?

"NO I AM NOT!" I exclaim with cantankerous wrath

I've just brought this noise along my entire path

Over the years it's made me quite hard of hearing

My appreciation for sounds is slowly disappearing

All due to this marvel of automotive engineering

And all of this disturbance has been interfering

With the glory of the woods, the mountains, the cold flowing streams

I'm raping the inhabitants of the land and crushing their dreams

What have I to show for all of this clamor?

I have struck down nature like Thor with his hammer

Now I am deaf and old and bitter and disgusting

My bike lays in the garage, it's beat up and rusting

My grandchildren come over and wish to play

But my son tells them "Grandfather can't hear you, he can only decay."

My once long sexy hair is now short, frail and gray

My wife talks to me but I can't hear what she say

I sit on the porch as the days go by

Always watching the sun pass through the sky

I remember the feeling of the bike vibrating my balls

And those late nights at the bars getting into brawls

I remember the leather and denim I wore with pride

And I've decided it's time to go for one more ride

I get out my bike and turn the fucker on

I can live again, I'm no longer withdrawn

I ride through the streets as those dicks look at me

I don't care what they think or care what they see

They might see a decrepit old fart on a bike

And maybe I'll see your stupid heart on a spike

Yeah, I’m still tough as shit and hard as nails

Stronger than iron or a diamond from Zales

80 years old and still riding strong

If only my bike club were still riding along

I’m blaring my noise all over this town

Making regular folks get angry and frown

So sorry my neighbors if I’ve ruined your day

I’m going to Denny’s for a delicious buffet

Going there on this motorized throne

I don’t need your approval, I ride alone

See Me Sucka

SEE ME SUCKA, I SUCK DICKS FOR COKE
IF YOU DON'T KNOW ME, YOU THINK I'M A JOKE
BUT TRUST ME FOOL, I SEE THROUGH THE SMOKE
SEE, THIS DICK IN MY MOUTH AIN'T GONNA MAKE ME CHOKE

I NEVER TRUST BITCHES CAUSE THEY THINK I'M A KID
I BEAT 'EM IN THE FACE AND PUT MY CANS ON THEIR LID
I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS BUT I SAY IT SO SMOOTH
MY WORDS ARE LIKE COUGH DROPS CAUSE THEY KNOW HOW TO SOOTHE
I BEAT MY THREE CHILDREN WHEN THEY GET OUTTA LINE
BUT I GO TO JAIL MUTHAFUCKA, CAUSE THE KIDS AIN'T EVEN MINE
I'M A PLAYA AND A GANGSTA AND A CON ARTIST, TOO
GET OUT DA WAY, I'LL GIVE YA ASIATIC FLU

I GOT RHYMES SO SICK THAT I VOMIT IN YOUR MOUTH
NOW YOU KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO BE LIVIN' IN THE SOUTH

I'M RABID AND FEROCIOUS
I EAT PENGUINS AND FUCK BITCHES SO ATROCIOUS
I'M JUST A HOP, SKIP AND A JUMP AWAY
FROM TURNING THIS PARTY INTO JUDGMENT DAY

I'M A CANNIBAL - I MIGHT SAY YOU'RE DELICIOUS
I GOT MANDIBLES - I'M SO FUCKIN' SEDITIOUS
I'LL PICK OUT YOUR EYES, POUR LOTION ON YOUR SKIN
ATTRACT ALL THE FLIES, SO THAT WE CAN BEGIN
I EAT YO FACE, NIGGA
IT TASTE REAL GOOD
I'MA EAT YOU BELLY NEXT
THEN DRIVE BY YO HOOD
I'LL DO A DRIVE BY ON THE FIRST HOUSE I SEE
AND KILL ALL THEM NIGGAS, I GUARANTEE

I PIMP HOES FO GRASS
I GOT KNUCKLES OF BRASS
I BITE ME SOME FIRE AND CHEW ME SOME GLASS
I'M AN ALCOHOLIC AND A FIERCE RELENTLESS KILLA
NO, THAT AIN'T SYMBOLIC, AND THESE LYRICS AIN'T FILLA
WHEN BITCHES SEE MY MUG THEY WANNA TOUCH MY ROD
I WAS BORN A THUG, AND I'LL DIE A GOD

You Fail

I cum forth like a million bricks
Spewing new from a thousand dicks
Watch the gate fall under its weight
Changing to a new eigenstate
Calculated through many tricks

You play your horns with fifty pricks
Find the center in just three licks
You get dirty with boys of eight
Don't pay for pizza or a date
YOU FAIL ONCE MORE!

We have our options and our picks
Of living far out in the sticks
With your dog or, say, with your mate
Or donkeys who can pull their weight
Your life is how I get my kicks
YOU FAIL ONCE MORE!

I am the King

Alexander, you simple man
I hate you more, more than one can
Allow his harsh words to imply
That he wishes a man to die
Inside the back seat of his van

No one is greater, greater than
The one who will remain and stand
As the rondeaux rise up so high
To kiss the limerick good-bye
I AM THE KING!

When it was time for me to scan
The places where your dreams can span
It was so easy to ask why
How you seemed to justify
Not confessing your lust for Dan
I AM THE KING!

"Bromance?"

The way your manhood dangles on my chin

I want something tighter to put it in

Your beard is like sex on a face while living in the woods

But there's nothing I wouldn't do for you for giving me the goods

I love women but you make me re-evaluate my desires

I know there's something else my love-hole requires

When I was lying at the bottom of the well

You came along, jumped down, and cast a spell

A spell to turn me from a lumberjack to a fairy

A spell to make me find women quite scary

I just want your nipples poking into my eyes

So maybe I can obey a love that only defies

Every law of sexxxx and sport and cum and glory

Then one day people will sit and listen to my story

It's a story of beasts and a young boy with a smile

And holes and humps and crevices to defile

My love is erupting into your curly brown hairs

My juices are smothering you, creeping downstairs

I'm walking to the jungle with you on my hip

Listening to my discman, playing Jefferson Starship

This ain't the last time that we'll be poking our rods

Greasing our muscles and rubbing our bods

I lust for your scent

Reminds me of mint

The Circle of Life

I am a hog in the grass
My fat belly is so large that I cannot hide from my predators
You might think in the middle of Mexico I would have no enemies
This is not true

I must learn to run fast
But my short little legs do not let me run far
Barracudas that have grown legs are chasing me
Today might be my last

As a hog I am unable to climb trees
This is a great handicap, as there are many trees here
Many trees that would provide shelter and safety
Protection from barracudas which now have legs

I hide briefly behind a mountain
The barracudas will not find me here

So I think...

The noon sun has risen high, and bakes my skin to crust
I begin to smell bacon, and realize that it is me. I am flushed.

The barracudas undoubtedly smell bacon, as well
I must begin running again, straight away, fast as hell
I make the mistake of climbing the mountain
Barracudas can climb faster than hogs, you see

One attaches his jaws into my buttocks
I squeal in pain
Another latches himself onto my back
I squeal more
This drops me to the ground, the ground upon which I am sure to die
The other barracudas (there must be 20 of them) all ravage me, sinking their 10 inch fangs into my 5 inches of fat
I can feel them ripping not only flesh, but organs from my body
One small barracuda unravels my intestines in front of me
I am going into shock
He runs off, with the unwinding rope of flesh fleeing from my guts
Another barracuda gnaws off my feet, for the feet of hogs are known to be a delicacy
Three more barracudas tear into my neck, my head is getting light

The hot sun beats down on me as the barracudas dance in my meats
My flesh is eaten as bacon, my innards are gathered and shredded by hungry teeth
The barracudas retreat, leaving me barely alive
My blood is all over the mountain, now
My chest is almost empty, except for my barely beating heart
But I smell my flesh begin to burn under the sun
The vultures smell it, too

The scavenger beasts from the sky land around me
Six of them, in all
I try to open my mouth, to beg them to be gentle, but I notice I cannot make a sound.
The vultures are relentless
They tear my heart from its cage, and the last thing I see before I black out into death is the alpha-vulture rip into it with his beak.

I call this "THE CIRCLE OF LIFE (devoured by barracudas, and ravaged by vultures)"

Little Romanian Goth

Oh little Romanian goth girl
Be not so sad and utterly alone
There are good things in life
That to you remain unknown

Sure, you may sit in graveyards
and look up to the moon
at night or in the morning,
In your fishnets in the late afternoon

You see beauty in darkness
and dream to pass your time
Let me tell you I'm quite relieved
You don't paint your face like a mime

Darkwave and industrial
are but a few of your life's joys
You write poetry and make art
Instead of going out and meeting boys

It's ok to smile
once in a while

I'd love to see you grin
Please, for me, dear friend

Are you a Luciferian or Pagan?
A Satanist Antichristian Vampire?
How about Spiritual, Setian, or Crowleyan?

Your victorian dress
suits you the best

I hope you can stop being depressed
And find friends on this lifelong quest

Lone Wolf Mormon Boy

I saw him walking by

As I drove to work today
He was all alone
And did not appear okay

It was my understanding
That all Mormons travel in twos
At least when they are preaching
Joseph Smith's good news

His white shirt untucked
His demeanor fairly weak
Is this what we should expect
When the world is inherited by the meek?

As he and his partner
Knocked on the house's door
The man who was inside
Got up off the floor

He had been passed out
For hours, maybe more
The two white Mormon boys
Had no idea what he had in store

They offered him the word of God
And he let them come inside
If only they had minded their own business
One of them would not have died

What happened inside that house
Is a mystery to the rest of us
It is my opinion
That this man was possessed and thus

Killed one of the Mormon boys

While the other one escaped
Maybe this was videotaped

It doesn't matter, though
This is something we all know

As this boy, he walks alone
And wonders if there really is
A God sitting upon a throne

Surely he has reconsidered
Due to the things in life
That have struck him down
Like an arm with a bloody knife

Where he was going
In this part of town
Is something I can only imagine
As his mind must wander around

He appears to me to be dazed
upset that no one today
listened to him and praised
his god he must obey

Is everything okay?
Little man who walks the sidewalk
Hello?
Is everything okay?
You seem to be in disarray

This morning you set out
To spread the word of God
And now, halfway through the day
You see it as a facade

You are growing,
Lone wolf Mormon boy
You are becoming
A vessel to destroy...

...To destroy the words of religious leaders
Who have plagued the minds of religious readers
Your efforts will not be in vain
For if you only can explain
How God's word comes down dumb
Maybe we will not succumb
Inflicted on the world today
As our logic tends to decay

Oh Mormon boy, walking alone on the side of the road
I sense your hate
Your passion towards destruction, you'd like to explode
And never love or procreate

Welcome to the world
without one religious fable
It's the world of reason
a world in which you're able...

... to be free.

The Volcano

I am a volcano

Erupting every hour

I blast love into the sky

To announce my power

A full six billion joules

Of molten, thermal release

Like a call from your landlord

This action will never cease

If you like to fly in planes

Be careful where you go

If you fly above my top

You'll feel it as I blow

Your plane will explode in flame

With no time to eject

I promise you

I mean you no disrespect

As you fall to Earth engulfed in orange flame

I'll crumble from a mountain, into subordinate shame

I am so sorry

But I am a volcano

These are things that I must do

I am a volcano

I did not mean to hurt you

Ejaculation of lava

Into the heavens above

A symbolic commitment

Of my burning love

For twenty bucks, maybe more

I'd love to cover your face

With everything I have in store

Followed by a tight embrace

I beg of you,

Please give me a chance

To take you to dinner

And to enter your pants

Maybe the reason you're always so blue

Is that you never have good things to do

Maybe when you're sitting at home on a Friday night

Pleasuring yourself in front of fire light

You should instead be out with me

Rollerskating in the park, fornicating in a tree

I think you've never weighed your options

You've never considered that I am the one

The one to bring your cycle into regulation

Like the moon to the earth, the earth to the sun

I know that most men can't understand you

I must admit, there's not much demand to

But I love your sexy foxy simple little ways

Let me live with you in a tent, and shower you with praise

I am a volcano

I erupt for you.

Daniel Bridges

Eyes that seek truth
Eyes that seek knowledge
It is he who seeks the Brown Eye
That is why he went to college
If Daniel Bridges were a bird
What kind of bird would he be?
Not a bird who pardons sin
Not a bird who flies high and free

He'd be a bird with a beard
A bird with a story to tell
A bird with a book in his wings
Telling you fables of Hell

Those eyes of his
They gaze at you in warning
He wants you chained to his bed
So he may have you every morning

Brown Eye Bridges
They say it with a smile
Brown Eye Bridges
I like his style

Ale House Girl

Thursday, November 12, 2009 at 11:25pm

Oh Ale House Girl, how I love your smile
you make my Friday nights more than worth the while
and I love your voice
When you recited from memory my drinks of choice
and I love your face
It is only for you that I return weekly to this place
The jukebox is fine, its music selection quite nice
But that is not why I tip you 100% of my tab's printed price

The first night I saw you, you wore a blue dress
Of all the bartenders in Knoxville, you are supremely the best
You come to my table after each drink is gone
Though probably find me peculiar, or strange, and perhaps quite withdrawn
It is not that I have no friends, my dear, in fact I have plenty
But the nights I spend in the company of you are better than any
I think each time that I walk through those doors
What words I will say as I gaze into those eyes of yours
But when words I rely upon, I will surely fail
And hope in the future one day I'll prevail
All I am able to say, as you stand there so facile
Is "I that think that tonight I will have a Newcastle"
In my dreams, I've spoken to you better words
But a girl as beautiful as you
Must be always stampeded by the herds

Now forgive me, for I know these words, though intended poetic
Come off obsessive, pitiful, delusional and pathetic
I think of you when I am not even there
I think of you when I am just about everywhere
I know your name but not your soul
And on my heart this takes a toll
Perhaps one day we'll converse a bit more
Perhaps one day, you will even adore
The things about me I adore about you
And the things that I feel, you will feel them too!?



A GREAT SARCOPHAGUS 
December 8th 2010, 7:00

A great sarcophagus
Has sat for eons on my father's desk
For half of those eons
I didn't know what its contents were
He has a very large desk, mind you
But as a child of imagination
I thought it was full of gold
I tested this theory by opening it
And putting my hand inside
The sarcophagus was full of a liquid
A liquid that I thought was wine
And my renegade spirit
convinced me to give it a taste
No wine in this sarcophagus
no wine at all
It was, however, gold
A liquid gold, by now so cold
A cold liquid gold
In a sarcophagus so old
I jumped from the desk
To run to the sink
To rinse my mouth
of this flavor of evil
I can tell you, today, only one thing about this sarcophagus
It is full of gold
But not the kind of gold you would give your wife
Unless your wife enjoys pee in her eyes
She does not, I know this because I have asked her how she feels
About urine, pee, and nectars of the urethra
Day in and day out
My father comes home
And looks at me while I look at him
I do not dare
To allow my stare
To move to his sarcophagus
For fear that he will know
That I know
The contents of the great sarcophagus


COOL STORY BRO
Dec 8th, 2010, 9:10 pm

I internetted today
My mother taught me how
Lots of games to play
Virtual fields to plow

I hear my modem's ringing notes
I'm getting ready to surf the net
My mouse is my surfboard among the boats
I hope I don't get wet

I found a forum to post my thoughts
I shared some secrets and a myspace link
Hoped these strangers would connect the dots
Request my friendship, and send me a wink

But these kids weren't looking for a friend
Just cruising the internet city streets
Like a gang of criminals ready to send
to hell the first person that they meet
My stories and pictures were met with contempt
Inside me a tree of sadness began to grow
They knocked down everything I began to attempt
With such words as "Cool story bro"
.
Now the waves of the internet sea
Come crashing down on top of me
My sand castle on the beach of the web
Was crushed by the very flow and the ebb
I cried on every website, every guestbook I could find
I shared my emotions very neatly outlined
Wrote 4 poems about suicide by fire
People don't like them, they say I'm a liar
Let me get back on my surfboard and get out of here...
.
Today I quit the internet
I had no place to hide
Mom won't let me on the internet
It's like a roller coaster kids shouldn't ride
I beat up my little sister today because she said I was fat and I'm not.


TODAY I BEAT UP A GIRL
December 8th, 9:40

Today I beat up a girl
I hated her sweater and her shoes
I think girls are ugly, and their teeth
ooooh, their teeth
Disgusting
.
The girl wasn't even looking
When I knocked her on the ground
I laughed at her and stole her shoes
Threw them into a tree
And fell over laughing
.
She didn't even cry, just called me a name
Sticks and stones can't break my bones
And words stand less of a chance
I hate her
.
Who does this girl think she is?
She watches stupid shows on TV
I heard her talking about Party of Five
I only watch that show to laugh at it
And I call it retarded and spit at the TV
.
This girl, this stupid idiot girl
She wears a scarf when it's could outside
I wear short sleeves and shorts
I asked her if I could see her scarf
Because I said I was going to buy one for my mom
But when she gave it to me, I threw her scarf in a tree
Take that, you idiot
.
If I had to climb a mountain with a girl
I would use her as a bobsled
And sled down the mountain on her back
And then do it again and again and again
.
My teacher is a girl
A real nasty girl
I never finish my sandwiches at school
I smear peanut butter on my teacher's chair
Put jelly in her hair
And call her Roseanne
I get in trouble all the time
Make my momma cry
Momma's stupid, anyway
She's a girl, too
.
Dad says it's cool to be mean to girls
He understands
He lives in jail
Which he says is so he can stay away from girls
When I grow up I am going to move to jail with dad
Until then, I'll throw mud at girls

PEE IN A GIRL'S MOUTH
Dec 9th, 2010 9:12 pm

Into her mouth I did pee
The girl who was talking to me
.
From the hole that words were said
I sent my urine full speed ahead
.
As much as I wanted to hear what she had to say
I much preferred to share my spray
A yellow mist in the blink of an eye
Into her throat from her favorite guy
.
The swallow was not voluntary
Quite to the contrary
It must be that my urine stream
Struck a chord, or so it seems
The muscles commanded my pee
Down the pipe for none to see
.
I later sent her a handwritten letter
On paper of a rare kind
Quite hard to find
To apologize, and make it better
Her response was sweet, unexpected and warm
She loved the taste
And though misplaced
Said my urine was its very own art form
.
We still talk on cold, freezing days
And share bladder emission
For mutual nutrition
More golden than God's blessing rays



A Girl From the Waves    

 November 6th, 2011

a girl from the waves
the waves, the waves
at the beach she is
I wave, I wave
her head is turned
she cannot see
my skin is burned
from the sun by the sea
she's not moving
just staring away
I wave, I wave
turn your head this way!
I think that's my friend
from the waves, the waves
walking through wind
on the footprints she made

i think I know why
when I wave, I wave
she doesn't respond
to the waves I gave
nor do the waves I see
crash to the sea
because this that I see
is not before me
it's an image without motion
a sandy beach scene
right beside the ocean
a picture on a screen!



Butt-Stained Heart
Saturday, October 15 at 5:09am

 I wrote this poem for a girl to give to a French boy named Cone whom she had a crush on. I don't know what ever came of the love that could have been.

-Dear boy from France who looks good in pants
I have some things to tell you
Please, lovely Cone, don't leave me alone
Come closer so I can smell you

You're the boy who breaks my flow of words
Steals my heart like a flock of birds
Makes me think of songs with strings
Sells my mother musical things

And above all else you fill me with a fire
And when I see you I think that I perspire
Just a little, until I can acquire
A view of you in your after-work attire

That you should be so handsome
In your fine, fine boyish ways
Is an act that takes for ransom
My eyes in their tempted gaze
You're the hunk of hunks
The monk of dunks
A gorgeous flower who makes me drunk

I will dance up to your shop one day
And it is there I will stop and say
"My dearest Cone, when I see you strut
my mouth gets dry and my heart falls out of my butt"

And then you will be mine!

one more for my pal and her Frenchman. 


To Cone
Saturday, October 22 at 4:02am

All the way from France
to the Upper East Side
Cone, you have come to me
And now you cannot hide

I hope you do not mind
If I sit and stop
To maybe just unwind
And hang out in your shop
And maybe while I’m there, I will start to stare
Or even say hello
And act upon a dare, to start off this affair
And plant my lips upon your perfect cupid’s bow

What’s that you say?
Your mailbox is overflowing?
Like my heart with adoration,
Do you see where this is going?

So many poems addressed to handsome you?
So many rhymes and lines in this haul
Each of them signed with the initials “C.Q.”?
I know nothing of this at all!

If you could see my home right now
You’d see macarons piled to the ceiling
I buy more than I intend to eat
Because your face is so appealing

It’s been weeks now, maybe more
Since rats have come in through the floor
Eating up my macaron piles
And looking at me with their smiles
So I decided to leave my home
Come here, to you, my lovely Cone

Perhaps, tonight, when you close up shop
We’ll run away in the rain, and hop
Upon a train that does not stop
That takes us on a voyage far,
Far away like a shooting star
And eventually we’ll go to France
Deeply weaved in our romance
Recite poems and drink fine wines
Tell each other our favorite lines
You’ll wear your suit and I’ll wear my dress
While I let your cupid’s bow caress
The side of my face in this dreamy circumstance
And all because I took a chance
With that handsome boy from France


Cat Poem
written November 8th, 2011

i come home from a long day
sit down on the couch
my cats come to me
sit upon me and play

i think to myself, then
they love me so much
it doesn't matter what
others think of me


but the truth hits hard
because i know
the only reason they love me
is i'm the only one around

if this house were full of people
who had more to give
my cats would leave me
and find new people to love

that's why
no one
is allowed
in my house

A Hipster's Poem About Sandwiches
written November 30th, 2011 11:22 pm

My thick rimmed glasses slide down my nose
I can't push them up, I'm making a sandwich for my bros
One hand on the meat, the other on the bread
I bring them together then start to spread
The mayonaise, the mustard, the obscure Indian dressing
This sandwich is intended mostly for impressing
The fuck out of those dudes down at the record store
Who look like they're stylish though I know they're poor
I always hear them talking shop about deli
I'm a foodie too! I even use cheeses so smelly
The bread I used is a French loaf - gluten free
The spices are rare, hard to find, obscurity is key
I realized too late that the meat was just meat
Not tofu or soybean, or an imitation vegan treat
I hope this doesn't ruin the validity of my creation
This tasteful sensation
This bread-on-bread masturbation
If those guys at the store know sandwiches like they say
They'll taste the hints, the essences, the subtle flavors of Poupon so Grey
One look at this sandwich and I must have a taste
I loosen my white leather belt from around my waist
I bite down and fill my mouth with flavor
My skinny jeans rip just as I begin to savor
I pull out my camera, attach the longest lenses
Take pictures of the sandwich before it is finished
Post each pic to my Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook and more
Ask my friends to like it, to share it, that's what pictures are for
Tragedy has struck, and my sandwich is now inside me
I'll never impress those boys at the record store
Doesn't matter, I'll go down there anyway
Open the door, walk up to the tall one and then I'll say
"Open your mouth, I have a surprise"
I'll puke up the sandwich, down his throat, in his nose and his eyes
Spray some of the vomit toward the other guy
Erupt a river of filth and sewage into the sky
Watch it rain down on my two new friends
Chunks of sandwich and garbage and European blends
I'm sure their sophisticated palettes can easily detect
The flavors and tastes that make all hipsters erect


another one for my friend to give to Cone.


Claudia & Cone in Paris part I (Thursday, Feb 9th 2012, 5:07 pm)

Do my eyes and ears deceive me
fair & handsome Cone?
Or did you truly leave me
and return to your Paris home?

Please tell me I may visit
to see the sunrise silhouette
of your utopian holy visage
as we live my heart's vignette:

A breakfast in the morning
on a blanket in Parc Monceau
You share a kiss without warning
That turns my heart to a bateau

that sails the oceans of amour
Where your touch is a tidal wave
That speeds the beating of mon coeur
you've left me only wanting more
I pull out the macarons I've saved
for you, the boy whose essence I adore

Will you climb with me
a French mountain, to the top?
where the air is thin tonight
and if we want to, we can drop
our clothes and baggage in the snow
As we gaze at stars overhead
I will mumble, "as above, so below"
and the mountain becomes our bed
The moon's white light creates a glow
on your face, on your peerless cupid's bow
My eyes close only for a moment
as I sink into your hold
because within your untamed arms
I feel everything but cold

and I awaken to a songbird
whose voice is like none I've known
But that songbird is no bird
That songbird is my Cone

My lovely Cone
more to me than flesh and bone
My perfect Cone
more fragrant than cologne

Because a bird you are not
For, more beautiful are you
than a bird who is caught
in my ardor's longing view

We return from nature,
to the City of Love
in the highest of all spirits,
in the City of Love
encircled by music,
in the City of Love
the music that's heard
in the City of Love

But only our ears
hear the finer notes, I'm sure
the notes that start with Dears
and end with Truly Yours,
Because, my dear
The songs we hear
Are for us and only us
Romantic melodies we can see
Like the words I write for thee
And so thus,
The notes are music
And the notes are us
The notes are adoration
like a maelstrom of elation
The music's not simply a vibration
of things too small for eyes to see
it becomes the ebullient narration
for the tale of you and me

Please take me to the Eiffel Tower
To its pointed peak, like a church's steeple
share with me a French kiss, The kisses of your people

And we will look upon the city
with fire in our hearts
and even in our eyes
"look at those works of art
up there in the sky"
say the people from the ground
listening closely for the sound
of music
inspired by the harmony
our hearts have come to know
"I hope that as above,
it is the same below"


A poem about downloading pictures and songs. (Saturday, Feb 11th 2012, 4:10 am.)

A computer is a lion's den
when what comes out
did not go in

Arcane box of secrets
creating mystic dreams
These are all illusions
Nothing's as it seems

There is semblance of the real
in these digital bits
But now I only feel
The things the screen permits
The sounds of the surreal
that my computer emits
are my eardrums's meal
a vibrato that never quits

My fingers tell the machine:

I need these .gifs
I need these riffs
I need stonehenge
and hieroglyphs

I need jpegs
I need new legs
I need a dozen
chocolate eggs

I need a song
that's not too long
I need craigslist
to sell my thong

An mp3
just for me
Could it be
that everything
was made for me
and that's why here
on IRC
I find everything
that I could need?

Yes
The internet is my kingdom
And I am the king
It has every single song
I could ever sing
And somewhere on the web
Is my kingdom's queen
A mistress of all pictures
even those unseen

He points and clicks
to become a better man
filling up his hard drive
with all his favorite bands
No time for tunes
No time for vids
only time for searches
and final auction bids

Sitting back in the recliner
with sweet chips on his lips
a drink by his side
and the world at his fingertips


Girl of Dreams
Thursday, 2/23/2012, 7:43 pm
I came home from work today and took a nap. This is a poem about the dream I had.

We meet on top of a mountain
For a charmed, romantic dinner
My, you’re looking beautiful
And tonight, I feel like a winner
Your hair’s so perfect
Your smile’s pristine
Your lips are parted
And your teeth are clean
Conversation is lively
And our words dance free
Your dress is a painting
And my tie is a tree
Together we’re like
A union of hearts
One is the earth
And one is the arts

There’s a small shack
On top of the mountain
Off to the back
Complete with a fountain

There’s an open bar on the side of this shack
So I get us some wine
Blue and green lights, from front to back
They shine as we dine

How kind of you
Girl of alluring essence
To sit with me
In such effervescence
Things I adore
More than your presence
are nothing, nothing
Nothing like our coalescence

The air is cool
And the sun still floats
Above the horizon
Like a billion boats
I pour you a glass
And your skin glows warm
I think to myself
Behold – the perfect art form

As I hand you your glass I think some thoughts
Thoughts sublime and romantic
Of eager deeds, and winding plots
That create implications gigantic

I wish to tell you, that is
I wish to say
That now is the time
Today is the day
That I shall show you
A millions sights
And a million things
A romantic odyssey
Into the space of dreams

But as I stand up in delight
Ready to whisk you away
You decide to call it a night
“Tomorrow’s a very long day”

I say some words, like “alright” and “ok”
I get it, I get it, I think I’ll go pay
I pay for the wine, but we never did eat
So I pay for no food, just the drinks and our seats

I come back to the table to see you are gone
You’re at the edge of the mountain
And there’s something you’re sitting on

“Look,” you say, “there’s one for you, too”
You point to a red sled, I know what to do
I hold the wine while I move the sled
Closer to you, so you don’t start ahead
“we race to the bottom,” you tell me, in smiles
“From top to bottom, it’s about two miles.”
“But hold on,” I say, fumbling with the wine
“give me a second, this might take some time.”
I try to secure the wine in my sled
Nested between my legs, it lies in its bed
“Get ready,” you say, but you launch yourself first
“fuck you!” I yell, and I spit as I curse
I launch myself, and holy shit
These sleds are so fast, I hope I don’t hit
A tree or a beast or a ditch or a rock
Or anything else that could possibly knock
Me out, or render me dead
One wrong move and I lose my head
I pass you for a moment, but it doesn’t last
You zoom on by, going oh so fast
Oh my god, there’s a fucking ramp
So I take the ramp like a fucking champ
I’m launched so high I’m sure I’ll die
Falling through the orange sky
I land with style like the ground is my bed
Now I’m wet, I’m covered in red
The wine has spilled all over my pants
It’s left a red trail, so I take a glance
I look back and I see your face
So beautiful, still, in the heat of our race

We reach the bottom of the mountain
Our sleds sliding to a stop
In front of a cozy looking cottage
With a chimney at the top

“This is my house,” you say to me
Your dress is still a painting
My tie is still a tree
As you open up the door
With a golden, magic key
I wonder if you’ll implore
For an opportunity
To bring the earth and art
Together in sweet unity

But instead, you say to me
“I have to rest my tired eyes
Rather quickly, so, you see
I’m afraid this is goodbye”

You close the door
The sun has finally set
I walk away from your cottage
My clothes are soaking wet

To find my way home
I will follow this stream
And reflect rather deeply
On a reoccurring theme
The theme that’s most poignant
Under the crescent moon’s gleam
That I will even be friendzoned
In a goddamn dream

My girlfriend just wrote me this beautiful poem. (3/5/2012, 9:46 pm)

I knew, that day

When you walked into Burger King,

With that rolling TV rack

and the TV on top,

And you were wearing black leather

and your hair was long

and you were clearly a fop,

that there was something special

about you

I tried to take your order

But you asked for my boss

I gave you chicken nuggets anyway,

But you didn’t take the sauce

My boss came out and shook your hand

You smiled at him, and mentioned your band

He asked why you brought  a TV

You told him soon he would understand

I listened to you speak

As you pitched him your pitch

You talked like a rebel

Whose throat had an itch

You plugged up the video

The audio, too

Turned on the TV,

Told him to take in the view

On the TV’s screen

Was something so mean

A black metal band

Unsafe and obscene

My boss wasn’t happy

He didn’t understand

Why you came to Burger King

To show him your band

And I have to admit

I wasn’t quite sure

How much more of this sound

My ears could endure

But I stared at your handsome face

There, on the TV screen

With your voice like a nightmare

and I watched you sing

right there, like a nightmare

In the middle of Burger King

You explained to my boss

you wanted to take out ads

to advertise on Burger King’s walls

and in the bathrooms, in the stalls

to put up flyers

for your metal band’s shows

to have your songs

played in drive-thru windows

I remember you smiled

In my direction

And if I’d been a man

I’d have had an erection

From what I could tell

You played guitar well

And if you played me like you played those strings

I just knew that you would make me scream

Your fingers up  and down the guitar’s wooden neck

Strumming and sweeping, from fret to fret

I wanted your lips up and down my neck

Strum me and sweep me, to make me wet

My boss didn’t like you

He made that quite clear

He said, “pay for some food,

Or get the fuck out of here.”

You popped in another tape

Took a minute to rewind

You told my boss he’d like it,

Said it’d surely change his mind

But he smashed your TV

And he called the police

Said you were annoying

And disturbing the peace

I felt so sorry for you, that day

As you left BK and walked away

I told my boss to fuck off and die

I quit on the spot, I couldn’t stand by

I ran out the door and I Frenched your lips

You Frenched me back, with your hands on my hips

Chills went up and down my spine

It started to rain, while the sun still shined

Your tongue was a blanket

Your arms were a wall

With you, I’d never fake it

I wanted to give you my all

Your mouth was delicious

And oh, your eyes

They seemed so seditious

And full of surprise

 Do you think we’re boundless

And infinite? Endless and forever?

Oh Philip, you sexual magician

I hope you never leave me, ever.


Toilet Poetry. 3/29/2012

look at this mess
you left to bless
the rim of the bowl
from up your hole
i surely can't sit
over the pit
without staining brown
all up and down
my socks and shorts
my shoes and skorts
I need you to clean
this ugly scene
make it right
shining white
without bleach or wipes
no growls or gripes
just make it shine
this bowl of mine
blow the dust with one good lung
clean the seat with one good tongue
if it's clogged, you make it flush
we got no plunger, use your brush
i'll be in the den, with the other adults
when i come back in, i want results

Shelley (September 24th 2012)

WHAT GOOD FORTUNE AND SMILING CELESTIAL SPHERES I'VE FALLEN INTO!

HOW VAST AND INFINITE A UNIVERSE THAT ONLY DREAMS OF YOU!

YOU'RE A BILLION PULSES OF LIGHT
A GRAND CREATION, THE HEART OF A NUCLEAR REACTOR
(IN WHICH WE ARE FUSION, LET THERE BE NO CONFUSION)
YOU'RE THE BRIGHTEST STAR AT NIGHT
GREATER PULL THAN EVEN THE ANOMALOUS GREAT ATTRACTOR



Leo, Leo, a Dog Named Leo (October 25th, 2012)

Bark, bark, as if from a tree
Is how a dog says
"Now, listen to me"

"Hark! Hark!" the dog seems to say
His call to attention
In hopes we obey

The sounds he hears
Are phasers to ears
There's danger and intrigue
in every noise
Sensation, stimulation
the vibration employs

Leo, young Leo
You smiling companion, with a conductor's voice
Defender of homes, a warrior's choice
If your legs, they were longer
And your roar any stronger
More feared than the sea
Would you surely be

And perhaps you would serve
As the commander of men
A trumpet to guide them
From the garden of Zen
To the tower of Babel
Where you echo and boom
In every language, fearless
The strongest one in the room

Desert Man  (October 26th 2012, a poem about Captain Beefheart)

You’ll never comprehend

The desert man

Your pores won’t take in

His desert sand

Your eyes won’t soak up

His arid art

You think him lacking

But, oh, how smart

This desert man

No prison like a city’s streets

Controls his brush

Or his windshield beats

Coyote neighbors

And ravens know

The hours he labors

To make art grow

A voice of wolves

That rumbles earth

Around a melody

That tangles mirth

As the trickery of words

So cleverly composed

Fly scattered like birds

From the artist’s prose

His colorless landscapes

Expressively designed

Say more than the artist

Who’s urban defined

A band of magic

And a heart of beef

Music that morphs

With the growth of a leaf

A hundred notes bent

Into a carousel’s turn

The thunder won’t relent

While the notes still burn

A Touch of Poverty (October 26th - November 1st 2012)

Consider, friend, the cold black hand of poverty
And how its bony fingers curl so tight with certainty
To cut my breath
To cut my pulse
To summon death
And to repulse
In this state
To render one so dry with loss and hate
And watch its creeping fingertips
As it removes the morsels from my lips
And watch the inching, moving hand
As it dries my mouth as sand
It moves without cessation
It takes without sensation
Cruelly feeding fear and fury
Madly playing judge and jury
It is a hand that taps so heavily
In rhythms dark, not heavenly

I want to cut this hand until it bleeds
And to feed upon the blood until it satiates my needs

A hungry gnawing grows deep within my chest

There resides inside me a black viper’s knowing nest

Its spawn are wrapped so tight around my spine

So nothing that belongs to me is mine

The green of money, as is trickles through my hands

Dissolves before me in the poison from their glands

Every finger is a fever
Every joint a ball and chain 
The hand opens to the palm
To release a cloud of rain

Love Like Lips, Love Like Ships   (February 16th, 2013)

if my tongue was your tongue
and your tongue was mine
i would pray to six gods
that we kiss like the swine
our tongues and our spits
colliding as one
our lips and our tits
touching the sun

imagine, if you will
the way that our lips
oooh, our lips
our lips and our hips

collide with such friction
the friction of ships

ships in space
ships on the sea
tumbling from waves
for dolphins to see

And pretend that these ships
they show us new lands
where castles of stone
are built in the sands

and imagine the world
where our limbs tie us down
and the bedroom floor
is dressed in your wedding gown

A Town   (March 6^th, 2013)

My ears raised, stood alert
As a town razed to the dirt
Let its smoke and its plumes
Reach up to the moon
To beg the white eye
To fall from the sky
And land in the flame
But oh, the moon never came

Christopher, a Friend Poem March 22nd 2013

Christopher, an Andres's son
Christopher, a morning sun
Imagine the delight
like the glory of night
When a man or a she-man
Stares upon thine face
Eyes out of place
A glare from me to thee
So my eyes thirst to see
The single glimpse of He
Who philosophizes in the dawn
Who finds the strongest horses to ride upon
And comes over my horizon
Every mornin' when I'm risin'
To greet the sun and sweet, sweet sky
And this Chris, this hunk, this guy
Just look
He stares
Into my window pane
And I,
I care not from whence he came
For the only worry I can feel
When ol' CAS is at the wheel
Is if we'll make it there on time
And if I should call ahead
to reserve the greenest lime
At the Acapulco bar
where the man behind the counter
waits to see our car

He doesn't care if we're of age
he only wants our dollar bills
He'd put Chris. A.S. in a cage
If I wasn't Mr. Phils

"A handsome boy is alright with me"
says the Mexican to my ears
"I wish we all could be as fine as he"
and we all drink ten cold beers.

Valerie, a Friend Poem  March 22nd 2013

Give a Manowar, which looks just like a jellyfish
A piece of bread on which to sit
And you must know, this thing much like a jellyfish
He will sit, and scream, and throw a fit
He will look upon the bread
Be it wheat or grain or white
And this Manowar, with hunger in his membranes
He will put up quite the fight
A fight that pulls his tentacles into axes
And his polyps into flesh
He will take the form of a man
A man birthed for rank and strength, and to impress
The creature of the sea, will become a man of earth
A muscular, nearly naked sort, who's sung metal from his birth
And on the bread upon which he sits
He'll dare the locals to gather like a storm
As upon this bread of tastes
He creates a sandwich, the perfect artform
And when this food is finished
And the gods themselves have gathered 'round
Even Mel Gibson in his Jesus' blood of crimson
Will kneel down to the ground

To give thanks to the Manowar, the unholy Manowar
The muscular deity
The being inside of me
The creature of metal
The spector of gods
He who brings nightmares
Where only are pods
Of Gibson's pain
and Gibson's hurt
Mel Gibson's deepest sympathies
For gods who dwell in dirt
and upon the dirt the gods will play
like human beings who sculpt with clay
and I, a girl, a watcher, now
I sit in the midst of trees
And I feel, with anger now
That none of these things
these beings
these creatures of the dirt
They consulted me
And asked of me
Just how I felt, and how I yearned
For all the blood and filth and shit and sperm
That the gods and fishes of the sea
Never even gave to me