Wednesday, November 7, 2012

145

Hooked On Dick Day Dreams & Phonics

Things they don't teach you in school:
Be prepared to suck a dick. Or a few.

Things they do teach you in school:
Anatomy

Put two and two twogether
Cause two plus two is four
And the sum of all these parts
Rhymes with a girl named Hoar.

Don't say no one prepared you for nothing.

#junkie


Tuesday, October 9, 2012

141

I know now that feeling of fire you wanted
Not the one you find on ends of matches or cigarettes
But the one you feel inside
I now know that feeling of fire you wanted
Because now I want it too
But you can't light a fire in the snow
No
Not the rain not the. Cold
When you need it the most
The fire won't burn
And I had to learn
The hard way.
Burn my hair burn my face
Burn me any old place
Just want to feel a heat
From my head to my feet
A furnace won't do the trick
I want a heat that makes me sick
Sick in love
Come back baby, keep me warm
Keep me close, safe from harm
And in the morning I will wake
And with me your warm heart I'll take .
#coldhardbitch

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

139


he left the lights on,
with his belt he tied together my arms
and said through a smile,
'I want to do you some harm'
and smiling back, I felt it
I felt everything
and everything felt so much more like everything
behind that blind fold
not seeing, just feeling, barely breathing and hearing
sounds outside, rattling trains, passers-by
can see excitement climaxing
on this white bed lay my head
hugs my legs, he kisses my ribs
and no one knows where we are .....




Wednesday, September 19, 2012

138

You used to inspire my poetry.
Now you just inspire me to vomit.








Thursday, August 30, 2012

Sunday, August 19, 2012

136

Wasted time, wasted space, wasted hearts, wasted place 
You can't know what you're wasting your time on until you damn well wasted it. 
It seemed like a new place with all those overwhelming things we needed to consider.
Dish soap, new towels, cups, dishes. A spice rack. But before we knew it, the toe nail clippings were turning to dust.
Dust like fading blossoms we saved from outside and arranged terribly in tiny winter vases.
We could have flowers in the winter, unnaturally so. But it was natural to miss such beautiful things, and, why miss them if we had means not to? How simple the analogy of a flower pot - contain the uncontainable, a round girl stuffed in stand pipe pants.
Rusty jar-lid jams preserving plastic fruits to spread thin on stale toast.
We could simulate the living, in perforated life boats,
sinking, swimming sharks fin, a chance to win supersedes that it's danger there too,
but lest a tranquil tiger sleeps with a lamb.
You can't know what you're wasting your time on until you damn well wasted it. 
Wooly flowers could be undusted, jar jam lids unrusted, but in dust there is a faded beauty,
grey matter - a familiar mystery - not quite the clarity of white,
not quite the final period of black, but grey....
like the ash from a cigarette made beautiful in its own light.
But just yesterday I saw you kissing tiny flowers,
but then you stopped and turn to cry,
cause everything tiny and dusty and beautiful,
like you and me, was born to die.

Sunday, July 29, 2012

134


Swing high
Swing low
This love gives me vertigo
But once I'm up there
I can't not want the high
That feeling I'm so close
To the grey and orange sky
No cares in the world
Nothing can touch me
When only the birds and the clouds are above me
And in the morning
Days start with coffee
And end with wine
And in between those sips
I'm feeling not fine
Cause this life its not mine
It's a byproduct, refined
Like white sugar
That's bad
Like white bread
Don't cut me off a slice
Even though it looks nice on diner menus
It's crusted and molded and bad
When you shine that fluorescing light on it
It shows the truth
Nothing but
Pasturized partygoers
My love in a valley
of death
In a shadows light
Dimly lit by the moon and a million stars
Illuminating slightly
A toe in the dirt
A finger up her skirt
A missing button off his shirt
Whoops
Sips spill, ends thrill, looks kill
But these cigarettes faster
The grass is greener on the other pasture
But they tell you it's not
So you won't go look
But I will , I will
Fuck the pain, fuck the thrill
Have to keep my head clear
And not sit in your swing of comfort
Rock me baby to and fro
You know that's where I want to go
But I'm looking down and all around
And I'm telling you I'm jumping off
And you think that I wont
But I will
And I do
And one day I'll pass by that park of buried memories
And whisper to the grains of sand that
I did

The bad news is time flies. The good news is I'm the pilot. And the best place to be is somewhere else.

Sunday, May 13, 2012

131


I didn't want to be your background girl
Your backdrop, your familiar
Your night light
I stayed in the spot where you put me
I wanted to cause scenes and get into the faces
Of people I hated to meet
So I let you go so I could know what it would feel like to be you
And it's that wonderful nauseous feeling
Tap tap a microphone
All eyes on you as our ears
Listen to the drone of the druken night passing by of the off beat rhythm on the side walk
Play it louder louder louder
So you didn't have to hear anyone and especially not the voice inside your head
Or worse,
The one inside your heart
But only time could teach me
But only when it would be too late to reach me
The only place I could shine was in that corner where you put me
where I wanted to hide anyway

Monday, May 7, 2012

130

Always hungry never eating
Always tired never sleeping
Always thinking never dreaming
Always doing never being
And If you turned those sometimes into always
And those maybes into yes's
And seriously pondered why
Swans do not wear dresses
And all those tiny thoughts confesses
On your crispy white couch
"When I am through with you" she said,
"Your eyes will be puffy
A pang in your head
And your stomach turned green
And then you would know what real beauty means
That naked swans are perfect naked
And the bark on trees isn't better smoothed
Five is less than six
But five is perfect too
In fingers and toes and senses
Your nose Fits mine feels fine
Give me all my days in sunshine
More issues than tissues
Tears enough to fill dusty wine bottles you've yet to return..."
"How does love look like?" he asked
"Like a million tiny aphids," she said,
"Sticking to your hair and clothes
In your mouth up your nose
It's annoying but it's fun
And it's a nuisance and there is no clarity
Except on shiny mornings
When after our coffee and cigarette
We realize all our wasted time
Was building something we could never throw away"
"Tell me something beautiful" he said
"Swans are white", she replied.



Wednesday, May 2, 2012

129


Karma chameleon
Have you been a dreamein?
All day, all night
If you want to fuck swag
You have to know what swag is
But do you know where swag came from?
Probably not
You think you know shit
Solely based cause you're
Hot
Hawt
Nawt
Not
We're all trying to fight
Look at me! Look at me!
Are you on the ground?
No
You are scared to fall
But fail, please fail
And get some humility
Your whiteboard is whitewash
The real talk happens after the real talk
The real party is the after party
And the real poem comes from the afterthought
Hot or not
Doesn't matter
Can you look in the mirror
When lifes hits sent it to shatter?
Embrace the splatter
And paint with the mess
That's when you'll create your best
Cause I'll get from you what you give to me
And then some...
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes
You might find
You can if you're me

Sunday, April 29, 2012

128

Red on Red on Red
Red hat
Red nails
Red wall
Red wine
Revelations




photo by @glnmchl

Friday, April 20, 2012

126

oh how we feel we've grown old,
when flesh candles we can't seem to hold
and oh how we know we've grown old,
when friends stop asking about your latest guitar,
and instead compliment you on your new BarBeQue
oh how we know we've grown old,
when the things we have come to love
can be counted on three fingers,
a thumb for babies
an index finger for pets
and a middle finger for drugs,
oh how we feel we've grown old
when sex has been replaced for hugs
and bathroom stalls are just for pissing
and the only thing that you are missing
is your hair
keep the kid (in you) alive
don't wish for slow days to pass you by
cause they will, and they will
and you'll grow older still
and time will speed its fidgety hands
and loud sounds of disco bands
will fade into your shattered memory
i think late is better than never




Wednesday, April 18, 2012

125

vanilla ice cream is unusual
like usual
i grabbed my morning coffee
like usual
i smoked my morning cigarette
like usual
i thought about the day and what i would do and
like usual
i felt like a usually did
but this morning
unlike usual
or, rather, unusually
i dropped the last few sips of my coffee on a scoop of vanilla ice cream
and the day wasn't so bad any more
it never usually is 
and i know, and you know
that sometimes it feels
more often than not
there is nothing and no one
to give us a thought
or us to them
no one, no one
no one to talk to
no one to call home
no one to call baby when you get home
no one to call
no one, no one,
no one at all
but even bad coffee is better than no coffee at all


Tuesday, April 17, 2012

124

when your poetry sounds preachy
and lined up trying to teach me
things
things you could say in less words than one
'cause lots of blithering idiots have already done
what you're trying to do
not what you have
and they've done it better
and any other word but gave
would rhyme with the latter
but you can spell ladder
and you can hear a splatter
and see cut glass shatter
on a shiny silver platter

shhh. anyone can do this.
so stop.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

123

the night was humid...
and it reminded me
somewhere in that place between dusk and midnight
the way the light hit things
reminded of things
things that are beautiful that we forget are beautiful
the inside of an elbow
the inner arm / but not the under arm
the inner thigh / where is the outter thigh?
the curve of a neck
and how it connects
to an ear
and smells
like the smell of a cedar deck
after the rain
and tastes
like how you anticipate caramel to taste on top of whipped cream
before you've stuck your finger in it
and feelings
like the feeling of "it was only a dream"
after a bad one
less is more
yes is more
no means never
and maybe means sure
the girl is a gun
things we know that are beautiful that we do not forget
a symmetrical face
a four beat rhythm
a rainbow
a rhyming poem
but all of these, you see, are boring
we like the pretty ugly
freckles, gap teeth, grey eyes, soft speak
if you have something to say
you don't have to shout it
if they know it's worth knowing
they will listen without it
no need for bang bang
but the girl is a gun
and the gun is her fun
and her secret and her last resort
and if you drive her to it
she'll use it
snort snort
but a pocket is a hiding place
and that girl there has the symmetrical face
and so everything is beautiful and boring again
twenty is even and twenty five too
and when they're all lined up in little white tubes
strike a match burn the last
breath out to that imperfect star speckled sky
america, america
watch timed airplanes fly by
and wonder where might they be going
America, America
"do you like baseball?" he asked me
"yes," I said. then I added, "with the right amount of beer"
....the night was humid