Jan. 30, 2013
Haiku #25: Goat
Shaking in the rain,
Capricorn clings to her rock,
Steady and unmoved
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Twenty Pack of Coke
Jan. 29, 2013
Twenty Pack of Coke
Coca-Cola!
You sweet devil,
you sticky stain,
syrup in my blood.
You are my cultural obligation,
my home town soda,
and I've gotta represent.
Twenty Pack of Coke
Coca-Cola!
You sweet devil,
you sticky stain,
syrup in my blood.
You are my cultural obligation,
my home town soda,
and I've gotta represent.
Weekdays Off
Jan. 28, 2013
Weekdays Off
I've had two days off in Chicago.
No money,
but I don't let that stop me.
Living off sweet coffees
at corner cafes,
Tucked by their windows,
I kill my time
studying business people
about their business,
At work and play,
Laughing,
Staring into something that's not there.
Weekdays Off
I've had two days off in Chicago.
No money,
but I don't let that stop me.
Living off sweet coffees
at corner cafes,
Tucked by their windows,
I kill my time
studying business people
about their business,
At work and play,
Laughing,
Staring into something that's not there.
Stepping Out for a Smoke
Jan. 27, 2013
Stepping Out for a Smoke
I stepped outside for a smoke
and got lost.
Somewhere by the door,
I turned down a street
I hadn't known before.
Now I do,
five minutes of memory saved,
The world larger
and a cigarette burned.
Stepping Out for a Smoke
I stepped outside for a smoke
and got lost.
Somewhere by the door,
I turned down a street
I hadn't known before.
Now I do,
five minutes of memory saved,
The world larger
and a cigarette burned.
Harp Playing in Bed
Jan. 26, 2013
Harp Playing in Bed
The shoes have come off.
I'm laid up on her bed,
harp cradled to my lips.
I'm breathin',
She's breathin',
strummin' a six string with love
and a smile.
We sing to each other
like a couple of birds,
Our notes twisting together.
I don't need to smoke,
Don't need to think,
to breathe,
Just wanna blow my harp,
Just wanna blow my harp.
Harp Playing in Bed
The shoes have come off.
I'm laid up on her bed,
harp cradled to my lips.
I'm breathin',
She's breathin',
strummin' a six string with love
and a smile.
We sing to each other
like a couple of birds,
Our notes twisting together.
I don't need to smoke,
Don't need to think,
to breathe,
Just wanna blow my harp,
Just wanna blow my harp.
Haiku #24: Oooh, Television
Jan. 25, 2013
Haiku #24: Oooh, Television
Netflix! You sneak up
And seize me by the eyeballs,
unplugging my brain.
Haiku #24: Oooh, Television
Netflix! You sneak up
And seize me by the eyeballs,
unplugging my brain.
54th and Roy
Jan. 24, 2013
54th and Roy
Michael trims the roses
at 54th and Roy,
Clearing away the dead blooms
that froze despite the sunlight.
He grips their stems with ungloved hands,
grey palms snapping off the thorns.
Well weathered hands twist,
crack,
tear away the flowers,
Scratch his head,
Pick the shriveled leaves
As all the cars pass by on the freeway.
54th and Roy
Michael trims the roses
at 54th and Roy,
Clearing away the dead blooms
that froze despite the sunlight.
He grips their stems with ungloved hands,
grey palms snapping off the thorns.
Well weathered hands twist,
crack,
tear away the flowers,
Scratch his head,
Pick the shriveled leaves
As all the cars pass by on the freeway.
Dazed and Confused: Theme and Variation
Jan. 23, 2013
Dazed and Confused: Theme and Variation
I wake up
with my face pressed into linoleum,
ass in the wind.
Roll over,
shuddering to a seat,
pressing back into the bathtub.
The floor sticks to my hands,
and wherever I'm sitting is wet.
Slowly on my feet,
and the mirror's ghostly white,
Eyes sunk and dazed,
Ashen lips,
Teeth chattering.
I can't feel them chatter.
The ceiling bulb casts a pale light,
chilling.
Dazed and Confused: Theme and Variation
I wake up
with my face pressed into linoleum,
ass in the wind.
Roll over,
shuddering to a seat,
pressing back into the bathtub.
The floor sticks to my hands,
and wherever I'm sitting is wet.
Slowly on my feet,
and the mirror's ghostly white,
Eyes sunk and dazed,
Ashen lips,
Teeth chattering.
I can't feel them chatter.
The ceiling bulb casts a pale light,
chilling.
Snippet of Spring
Jan. 22, 2013
Snippet of Spring
Spring erupts
out of the snow!
The ice runs screaming,
the streets become a muck,
And shining in the murky grey of it all,
The Sun comes riding out!
Let's keep it real:
This is but a snippet of Spring to come,
bubbling over into January,
But I've stripped my coat
so I can breathe in the rain.
Snippet of Spring
Spring erupts
out of the snow!
The ice runs screaming,
the streets become a muck,
And shining in the murky grey of it all,
The Sun comes riding out!
Let's keep it real:
This is but a snippet of Spring to come,
bubbling over into January,
But I've stripped my coat
so I can breathe in the rain.
Haiku #23: Drag Race
Jan. 21, 2013
Haiku #23: Drag Race
Rupaul addiction,
My guiltless pleasure that lets
Me feel fabulous.
Haiku #23: Drag Race
Rupaul addiction,
My guiltless pleasure that lets
Me feel fabulous.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Wind Maker
Jan. 20, 2013
Wind Maker
She goes by many names.
Some call her Zephyr,
the breath that kisses our cheeks,
Or Gust,
the spirit that snatches at our coats,
carrying off our breath to the mountains.
She is Biter in the Northlands,
where she rips at our flesh
in a cold rage,
And in the Plains,
deep beneath cellar doors,
her name is whispered,
"Death."
She's many forms.
In grey stoned Rockies,
Citizens see her as the Eagle,
Summoning up currents beneath her wings.
In the northwestern woodlands
She is the whispering dragon,
Brushing the pine needles aside
As she breathes pure air from the ocean,
grey and clean.
I met the Lady in my homeland,
Southern green valley.
She dressed in lilac,
Shades of summer green,
barefoot and dancing in the grass.
Her beauty,
breathtaking,
for she is breath.
She held me in silence upon the hill,
and when she kissed me goodbye...
Her lips tasted of snowfall.
Mistress to none,
she is the Wind Maker,
and she dances upon the grass.
Wind Maker
She goes by many names.
Some call her Zephyr,
the breath that kisses our cheeks,
Or Gust,
the spirit that snatches at our coats,
carrying off our breath to the mountains.
She is Biter in the Northlands,
where she rips at our flesh
in a cold rage,
And in the Plains,
deep beneath cellar doors,
her name is whispered,
"Death."
She's many forms.
In grey stoned Rockies,
Citizens see her as the Eagle,
Summoning up currents beneath her wings.
In the northwestern woodlands
She is the whispering dragon,
Brushing the pine needles aside
As she breathes pure air from the ocean,
grey and clean.
I met the Lady in my homeland,
Southern green valley.
She dressed in lilac,
Shades of summer green,
barefoot and dancing in the grass.
Her beauty,
breathtaking,
for she is breath.
She held me in silence upon the hill,
and when she kissed me goodbye...
Her lips tasted of snowfall.
Mistress to none,
she is the Wind Maker,
and she dances upon the grass.
Litterbug
Jan. 19, 2013
Litterbug
Poor little litterbug,
aged seven and a quarter!
She drops her Skittle wrappers
to paint the rainbow on the lawn,
Breaks bottles on the pavement
to catch the light at dawn.
Litterbug
Poor little litterbug,
aged seven and a quarter!
She drops her Skittle wrappers
to paint the rainbow on the lawn,
Breaks bottles on the pavement
to catch the light at dawn.
Haiku #22: Drifter
Jan. 18, 2013
Haiku #22: Drifter
Riding on the foam,
The pits and whorls of the wood
Tell seaborne stories.
Haiku #22: Drifter
Riding on the foam,
The pits and whorls of the wood
Tell seaborne stories.
Haiku #21: Tangela
Jan. 17, 2013
Haiku #21: Tangela
Celadon killer,
Lovecraftian spore sprayer,
A grass type demon.
Haiku #21: Tangela
Celadon killer,
Lovecraftian spore sprayer,
A grass type demon.
System Requirement
Jan. 16, 2013
System Requirement
I need regular ventilation,
Not once a week or month.
I'm like the motherboard,
Turn me on and air me out.
See,
I've got a mind
that runs on overtime,
A body that wants
for action,
Longs to burst out of my skin
and into yours,
Dissolve this four limbed frame
and flit about about the lamplight,
moth-like,
Taking deep drinks
of everyone I meet
to cool my throat, my eyes.
Do me a favor.
Next time you see me,
don't say a word.
Just grab my hand and take off running,
I promise I'll come tumbling after.
System Requirement
I need regular ventilation,
Not once a week or month.
I'm like the motherboard,
Turn me on and air me out.
See,
I've got a mind
that runs on overtime,
A body that wants
for action,
Longs to burst out of my skin
and into yours,
Dissolve this four limbed frame
and flit about about the lamplight,
moth-like,
Taking deep drinks
of everyone I meet
to cool my throat, my eyes.
Do me a favor.
Next time you see me,
don't say a word.
Just grab my hand and take off running,
I promise I'll come tumbling after.
Haiku #20: Silent on the Train
Jan. 15, 2013
Haiku #20: Silent on the Train
Drowning in faces,
Greyed and silent on the train,
No one dares to breathe.
Haiku #20: Silent on the Train
Drowning in faces,
Greyed and silent on the train,
No one dares to breathe.
OKCupid Asks Me What I'm Good At
Jan. 14, 2013
OKCupid Asks Me What I'm Good At
1. Making Lists.
2. Trying Hard.3. Taking it easy.4. Thinking about you.5. Smilin'.6. Writin'.7. Rhymin'.8. Brainstorming.9. Brainsieging.10. Mutual Brain Picking.11. Listenin'.12. Whistlin'.13. Kissin'.14. Practicin'.15. Daydreamin'.16. Dropping g's for phonetic and poetic effect.
OKCupid Asks Me What I'm Good At
1. Making Lists.
2. Trying Hard.3. Taking it easy.4. Thinking about you.5. Smilin'.6. Writin'.7. Rhymin'.8. Brainstorming.9. Brainsieging.10. Mutual Brain Picking.11. Listenin'.12. Whistlin'.13. Kissin'.14. Practicin'.15. Daydreamin'.16. Dropping g's for phonetic and poetic effect.
God Save the King, Theme and Variation
Jan. 13, 2013
God Save the King, Theme and Variation
The Aristocracy of America
is alive and well,
Taking in matinees
in trussed up coats and wigs,
yellowed teeth rattling in laughter.
No crowns adorn their heads,
No honor in their blood,
Just an aging pair of eyes blind to tomorrow,
A dying caste,
kings and queens
abandoning their duty.
God Save the King, Theme and Variation
The Aristocracy of America
is alive and well,
Taking in matinees
in trussed up coats and wigs,
yellowed teeth rattling in laughter.
No crowns adorn their heads,
No honor in their blood,
Just an aging pair of eyes blind to tomorrow,
A dying caste,
kings and queens
abandoning their duty.
Prayer
Jan. 12, 2013
Prayer
I send my prayers to a specific address:
The Universe,
Et. al.
Everywhere.
See,
I don't follow god in traditional sense.
No religious bending of the afterlife
into fenced off neighborhoods for me.
I send my divinities
to everywhere,
Every pinch of stuff
that holds the whole together.
In short,
I pray to everything,
everyone,
You are who I pray to.
God,
give me strength,
Keep the good of man in your mind,
Compassion and Hope for us all
in your heart.
Prayer
I send my prayers to a specific address:
The Universe,
Et. al.
Everywhere.
See,
I don't follow god in traditional sense.
No religious bending of the afterlife
into fenced off neighborhoods for me.
I send my divinities
to everywhere,
Every pinch of stuff
that holds the whole together.
In short,
I pray to everything,
everyone,
You are who I pray to.
God,
give me strength,
Keep the good of man in your mind,
Compassion and Hope for us all
in your heart.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Service Man's Diet
Jan. 11, 2013
Service Man's Diet
I eat a lot of eggs.
Every morning,
if I can make it from the bed.
Eggs and milk and bread,
that's my diet,
And I boil it down with coffee,
A muddy fuel for me
As I earn my day's wages
holding hands,
Figuring out the role of service man,
the human interface for the confused.
We plug up the gap,
mend the fences,
mind the door,
little big men
to help the Average Joe survive.
Then,
when the day's work is done,
we use our feet
to carry us home.
Service Man's Diet
I eat a lot of eggs.
Every morning,
if I can make it from the bed.
Eggs and milk and bread,
that's my diet,
And I boil it down with coffee,
A muddy fuel for me
As I earn my day's wages
holding hands,
Figuring out the role of service man,
the human interface for the confused.
We plug up the gap,
mend the fences,
mind the door,
little big men
to help the Average Joe survive.
Then,
when the day's work is done,
we use our feet
to carry us home.
Question for Daydreamers
Jan. 10, 2013
Question for Daydreamers
What happened
when we forgot we did that?
When we turn around and see
the bed made up
or the room straightened?
Where were we in that moment?
We're you doing back flips in your head?
Lost in thoughts of tomorrow
or the warmth of the past?
Did you drape yourself in clouds
and snuggle by the sun fire,
camped beyond the moon?
I often find myself in stars,
hopping about from planet to planet,
hoping for someone to talk to.
Question for Daydreamers
What happened
when we forgot we did that?
When we turn around and see
the bed made up
or the room straightened?
Where were we in that moment?
We're you doing back flips in your head?
Lost in thoughts of tomorrow
or the warmth of the past?
Did you drape yourself in clouds
and snuggle by the sun fire,
camped beyond the moon?
I often find myself in stars,
hopping about from planet to planet,
hoping for someone to talk to.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Enlightenment
Jan. 9, 2013
Enlightenment
This ain't life.
This is enlightenment,
Our brief moment in time
to make sense of it all.
We are but ruins
in the eyes of our posterity,
curious stones
nudged from side to side.
Every moment
is our waking moment.
Every day,
a chance,
Not an endless toil,
nor a brutal race to the finish,
But a voyage,
to be taken across
seas of years,
seas of years,
And land in some distant port,
our selves
freshened by the wind.
Enlightenment
This ain't life.
This is enlightenment,
Our brief moment in time
to make sense of it all.
We are but ruins
in the eyes of our posterity,
curious stones
nudged from side to side.
Every moment
is our waking moment.
Every day,
a chance,
Not an endless toil,
nor a brutal race to the finish,
But a voyage,
to be taken across
seas of years,
seas of years,
And land in some distant port,
our selves
freshened by the wind.
Street Performer's Speech
Jan. 8, 2013
Street Performer's Speech
Excuse me Mister Gentleman, sir,
can you spare a quarter?
Nickels and dimes'd be fine.
See,
me and my boys
gotta raise fifty bucks a pop,
Just so we can play some old buckets
on a cold Michigan spot,
right by the lake.
Let me tell you,
there'll be a view!
Picture yourself,
as the drums fill the air,
lake side,
with the wind buh-blowin'
and your girl ho-holdin' you tight,
Out on a Sunday walk,
listenin' to yours truly
as I play some sensual rhythms
to give you that good feelin'!
Just some spare change,
Mister Gentleman, sir,
You'll be lovin'
and I'll be fed.
Mister,
can you spare a quarter?
Street Performer's Speech
Excuse me Mister Gentleman, sir,
can you spare a quarter?
Nickels and dimes'd be fine.
See,
me and my boys
gotta raise fifty bucks a pop,
Just so we can play some old buckets
on a cold Michigan spot,
right by the lake.
Let me tell you,
there'll be a view!
Picture yourself,
as the drums fill the air,
lake side,
with the wind buh-blowin'
and your girl ho-holdin' you tight,
Out on a Sunday walk,
listenin' to yours truly
as I play some sensual rhythms
to give you that good feelin'!
Just some spare change,
Mister Gentleman, sir,
You'll be lovin'
and I'll be fed.
Mister,
can you spare a quarter?
Monday, January 7, 2013
Chicago
Jan. 7, 2013
Chicago
Gettin' stoned
with the wind,
Tucked away in a west side backyard,
Listening to echoes
roaring off the El.
The cold air lights me up,
roses my cheeks.
Coffee tastes better,
thick stuff that sticks,
And sidewalks
make you walk them.
You've got to want to walk them.
The city asks one thing,
Respect.
It's not here for you,
You're here for it,
pumping Leviathan's blood,
And in exchange
she cradles you in concrete arms,
Rocking you to sleep
to the old urban lullaby
of bus stops and sirens.
Chicago
Gettin' stoned
with the wind,
Tucked away in a west side backyard,
Listening to echoes
roaring off the El.
The cold air lights me up,
roses my cheeks.
Coffee tastes better,
thick stuff that sticks,
And sidewalks
make you walk them.
You've got to want to walk them.
The city asks one thing,
Respect.
It's not here for you,
You're here for it,
pumping Leviathan's blood,
And in exchange
she cradles you in concrete arms,
Rocking you to sleep
to the old urban lullaby
of bus stops and sirens.
A Whisper 1
Jan. 6, 2013
A Whisper 1
Last night,
I listened to a song
That reminded me to say
I've been away from you too long.
A Whisper 1
Last night,
I listened to a song
That reminded me to say
I've been away from you too long.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
My Rose Poem
Jan. 5, 2012
My Rose Poem
This is a poem about a rose.
I know.
What old woman is writing this?
Truth be told,
I got a little old lady in my head,
lecturing me always on what's important,
And because I love her
I'm giving her the day.
Plus,
I hear Shakespeare thought it was sexy,
and who doesn't want that feeling?
I love the rose,
Lush,
Deep,
The feel of thorns
Pulling at my hands,
Remind me while I hold it
that it holds me back.
My Rose Poem
This is a poem about a rose.
I know.
What old woman is writing this?
Truth be told,
I got a little old lady in my head,
lecturing me always on what's important,
And because I love her
I'm giving her the day.
Plus,
I hear Shakespeare thought it was sexy,
and who doesn't want that feeling?
I love the rose,
Lush,
Deep,
The feel of thorns
Pulling at my hands,
Remind me while I hold it
that it holds me back.
Friday, January 4, 2013
How I'm Feelin' When I'm Crushin'
Jan. 4, 2013
How I'm Feelin' When I'm Crushin'
If I had my way,
I'd be kissin' you every day,
Taking drags from your lips
and gettin' stoned off your sighs,
Throw your thighs onto my shoulders
and carry you around
like a bad habit.
How I'm Feelin' When I'm Crushin'
If I had my way,
I'd be kissin' you every day,
Taking drags from your lips
and gettin' stoned off your sighs,
Throw your thighs onto my shoulders
and carry you around
like a bad habit.
Haiku #19: On Smoking Cigarettes
Jan. 3, 2013
Haiku #19: On Smoking Cigarettes
Three to five a day?
Sure, it kills me slowly, but
At least it ain't meth.
Haiku #19: On Smoking Cigarettes
Three to five a day?
Sure, it kills me slowly, but
At least it ain't meth.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Picture of a Heaven and a Hell
Jan. 2, 2013
Picture of a Heaven and a Hell
Heaven
is going to be
Dancing,
with all those loved ones you remember
from kisses,
and fingertips,
little glances
in moonlights,
smiling whispers
and ocean side secrets,
And the music is killer.
Hell
will be
Seeing them all,
Standing still on the dance floor
in dead silence,
Not knowing their names,
or if you ever knew them,
And it's cold outside.
Picture of a Heaven and a Hell
Heaven
is going to be
Dancing,
with all those loved ones you remember
from kisses,
and fingertips,
little glances
in moonlights,
smiling whispers
and ocean side secrets,
And the music is killer.
Hell
will be
Seeing them all,
Standing still on the dance floor
in dead silence,
Not knowing their names,
or if you ever knew them,
And it's cold outside.
First Reaction to 2013
Jan. 1, 2013
First Reaction to 2013
Twenty thirteen.
It feels weird.
Like we shouldn't have got here.
I feel,
eerie,
Lovecraftian.
The people seem fictitious,
little magical stories
that feel unreal,
That man in headphones,
interstellar music
pumping into his body,
unable to hear
the sound of the wind
pushing him around.
The sun itself glows old,
a pale neon light
that turns our shadows yellow
as we walk down the old streets.
They're all
old streets.
Man has hit his middle age,
Looking at his ears and feet
And wondering how they got so big.
First Reaction to 2013
Twenty thirteen.
It feels weird.
Like we shouldn't have got here.
I feel,
eerie,
Lovecraftian.
The people seem fictitious,
little magical stories
that feel unreal,
That man in headphones,
interstellar music
pumping into his body,
unable to hear
the sound of the wind
pushing him around.
The sun itself glows old,
a pale neon light
that turns our shadows yellow
as we walk down the old streets.
They're all
old streets.
Man has hit his middle age,
Looking at his ears and feet
And wondering how they got so big.
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