Timer

Timer,
Ticking, tock,
Brains and a cock
Fuck you thought?
I'm no moralist,
Not one for Jesus or Mohammed –
Fuck that noise – lies
Man is as he tries
We can all respect all without giving, Credence to lies –
Man is as he tries
We all die,
With or without these thighs –
No one's saving us
We are because
No divine mother,
No brother –
We are without each other
When beauty's become a lie,
We all try
Timer

Advertisements

A guap of bubble hash in this cone,
Hoping by the time this paper plane lands,
I’ll be back home,
We’ll see how the poem goes,
But I might just move in:
The ghost in the guest room –
Where I go get stoned,
And visit my demons –
S’wear I wrote a version of this three months ago,
When, in self-exile,
I wanted you to go,
And I sat and got sad,
Beneath the Van Gogh,
Where tonight, I look to it and know,
Vincent was as I, no doubt,
Stoned and alone
For only artists, those irrational and naive enough to believe in this stuff,
Really ever love –
But I came here to be happy,
So I am,
Because a room is just a room

Culture Snap 2K17

Realize the core fear in life is terror,
Know thyself and build security from there;
Some people catch vibes from the air
Fox News has my neighbors scared
They pray to Jesus to keep Jesus (hey-zus) outta here,
They don’t realize real-lies 
Call it “fake news” – it’s tele-vised (Orwell!)
That’s the pot calling the kettle;
That’s how people became chattel,
Fascist playbook 101
Control their values and you’ve won:
So insecure we voted a chump ,
Who hates Mexicans and women –
Telling-lies-to-your-vision (ON TV!)
How did they vote for this machine?
Half of em on SSDI 
Thinking the dems weren’t on their side,
Because we don’t see Muslims and hide;
This zeitgeist isn’t normal;
This work life it’ll own you –
This youth – they’ll control you
(instagram!)
Most people worship the ruling classes;
How do you be a person and like the masses?
All loving pics of the fattest asses 
Biased and blind to their own assets –
This shit is insane: it’s insecure
Judging ourselves in how others appear;
Forgetting we all once came here,
Hoping to find freedom from fear
And now we’re just like, let’s get a beer;
Come on bro, there’s no sluts here 
Using each other and loving things;
Most people are not very human beings, 
But I believe, there is a plan 
So I’ll be me be-cause I can 
I am not here to conform;
I don’t fuck with the norm –
I am here to do art;
Get high and pull it apart 
(Culture!)

Little Thing, Whom I Love

Tonight, I found the door down,
Which leans against the deck,
Where a gate ought go –
And so, bent to lift it,
Dragging the wooden thing up across the deck – wait – the mouse!
He’s –
This little waif under the door,
He’s on his side, writhing slow
I’ve hurt him – no!!
He must have been sleeping, hiding
I’ve hurt him – dragging the door
He is laying there, on his little gray side, a tiny mouse
I turn to Sarah,
She sees –
“What do we do?”
“I can kill him with a large rock,” I say,
But I can’t, I only say I can;
Though, I decide I will if I must..
He is writhing – not a minute has passed
He is on his little gray side,
Breaking my heart, dying –
And so, I grab the door and sweep him gently with it,
Off the deck,
Onto the wild forest floor
The door returned to its post,
The mouse, somewhere in the dark
Waiting for the circle of life –
We go inside, quiet, sullen
I grab my phone and write this poem,
Until the words: “…on his little gray side”, when I just can’t anymore;
I must:
‘Sarah leash the dogs’
“They call me skull crusher,” I quip in a Randy Savage voice to the anxiety inside me
Flannel on,
Light on,
I round the house –
Sarah near, dogs sniffing for a place to go
I shine my light there – I see,
He is as peacefully dead as dead is –
“He’s dead,” I call to Sarah,
Letting out a sigh 20 minutes old,
Staring at this little thing, whom I love.