Sunday, July 28, 2013

Mr. Sunshine

Tracing the cracks in my flesh with my tongue
I regurgitate pain
in a rusted pail
sprinkle it over my naked body
Maybe it'll wash away
the graffiti
Maybe it'll make
me sick
I used to worship the sun
as a lover
But I see it's an orange tumor
that keeps growing
and growing
until the blinding ultraviolet
is all
that I know

Friday, July 26, 2013

Robert Has Cooties

You look into my eyes
as if you're staring into
the intestines of Hell
Such
pity
I could bury flower seeds in your pores
and the sprouts would rot
in the beauty of the
soil
The day you finally touched me
you pushed me away
with the force
of a Boeing 757
It was the greatest day
of my life
It was
the end of the world

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Fuck You, I'm An Artist, Man!

I built a monument to my failures
using nothing
but the garbage
strewn about
the world
and the rotted wood
over our heads
When I showed it to her
she said “This
is more beautiful
than the raindrops
on my open
grave.”
Then she licked her lips
and tapped my
creation
with her delicate finger
and it toppled
on top of me
and the decay rains on me
to this very day

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Split Myself In Two

     I split myself in two today. It was a euphoric experience on par with inhaling your weight in marijuana and shaking hands with God. I remember My First Half went to a street corner and started giving out money to people, all the while preaching about loving each other and the virtues of non-violence. The populace spat on him and hurled insults too vulgar to recall here. My Second Half sneaked up behind him with devils in his eyes and wrapped his arms around My First Half's neck. As My Second Half squeezed with terroristic rage, he laughed while My First Half's face turned blue and regurgitated his insides to the sidewalk. When his victim was dead, My Second Half stood and smiled. Then the people, who were just wishing death upon the man he just killed, started jeering him as they did his victim. They called him a “cruel murderer” and threw everything they could get their hands on at him. And that's when My Second Half exploded, leaving nothing behind but a small baby, crying to be respected.

Saturday, July 13, 2013

The Jaundice Revolution

With hands gripping our aching guts
we limp across concrete vomit
with a chorus of moans and screams
lining our infected eardrums

Outside the hospital
a sign reads:
“Cover Charge:
$2000”
Look above,
you'll see the sick and poor
tossed from their gurneys
to splatter on the ground below
and the rats will come
dressed as debt collectors
to feast on the cancerous remains

All we have for nourishment
are our own broken bones
washed down with pus
in hopes that it will all
go away
without the need to sign our soul over
to a hit squad of suits
that are torn
from the devil horns growing within

Monday, July 8, 2013

Buttermilk

We are all dying
Metal vultures circle overhead
spitting shrapnel
at our weakened bodies

We are all dead
Metal flies case our bodies
recording shambling bones
for the coroner overlords

Our biggest mistake
was seeing freedom
through the cracks of their padding
when it was just a terrorist
draped in stripes
the entire time

The greatest threat
to us
does not wear a turban
nor does he live in our phone signals
He wears a suit
and resides in a mansion
paid for with your taxes

When we realize this
the dead shall rise
from their tinfoil coffins
brandishing hearts
wielding neurons
while skies clear
of our magnetic nightmares
and the airwaves will play
cellos and flutes
instead of our thoughts

And in this moment
we will be reborn

Friday, July 5, 2013

Anarchy Of Flames

There were times when
you and I
would blow smoke rings
around the moon
and watch them circle back
to embrace us
like halos around our necks

There were times when
I would get so angry
at the world
and myself
that I would drape my feet
in cement shoes
and dive into your corneas
to let them wash away
everything

There were times when
your frown would break
the world
but you would repair the cracks
with your delicate hands
while singing a love song
for us
then I would pull you aside
to kiss you
deep as a grave
and you would smile
so the world would heal itself
looking more beautiful
than it ever did

There was a time when
your celestial body
lifted itself above mine
hurled at me in an anarchy of flames
and my body turned to ash
and the remains sailed in the wind
for a thousand years
before manipulating themselves
into letters
into words
into this poem
for you

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

The New Pledge Of Allegiance

I pledge allegiance
to the fist
of the United States government
and to the republic
for which we kneel
one nation
in fear of God 
forever fractured
with liberty and justice for the rich

Black Comedy

The final exclamation point
to 25 years
wasted
my used vessel
twisted into an epitaph
and read by the illiterate

Yes
there were a few crumbs of sunlight
spread throughout the swamp
but
obviously
it wasn't enough to dry the infection
in my arteries

It's just something I got to do myself

I watch the women of the world
spread their legs for paper cuts
while ignoring euphoria
I watch those in power
piss on the poor
and jack off for nuclear orgasm
I watch families torn apart
by magnetic erections
I watch the living get autopsied
by self-appointed surveillance

These things just make it easier
to shove my disease
down God's throat
and laugh as He/She chokes
.
Because we all need to chuckle
sometimes...

Monday, July 1, 2013

Taylor Swift's Cunt

Taylor Swift's cunt
Is imploded and
Crimson
Like the brains of
Shaken babies

Sorry about that
Taybug

I know you'll write
An album
About the whole situation
Comparing me to some
Demented prince
Locking his lovers up
In concrete towers

But its the best fuck
You will ever have
You said so yourself
When I splattered civilizations
Across your ocean face

Taylor Swift's cunt
Is flowing
With the pus
Of a thousand wounder soldiers trapped
In its trenches

But that wasn't my fault

Now my penis
Resembles the drowned titanic
Covered in moss
Falling apart
Just like your career in five years

An Ode To Big Tobacco

So tired in the intestines of the city
Melted fat falls from my forehead and seeps into the cracks in the cement
Someday my entire body will rip these streets apart
But for now I look at the metal sky and see the sirens reflect
I know they're coming for me
They always have been
A sword materializes in my hand
All pixellated and disjointed
I debate on cutting my scalp open
Giving my brain a massage
But then I think better of it
I light up a cigarette and sit on the pavement
Sword in one hand, smoke in the other
And I wait....

The Redundancy Of Redundancy

I sliced my forearm and bled a rainbow
I hung myself and grew rose petals around my neck
I drank arsenic and pissed out a blue sky
I swallowed a handful of pills and shat out a second sun
I stuck my head in the oven and inhaled morning dew
I injected heroin into my veins and climbed Mount Everest
I shot myself in the head and splattered gold against the wall
I provoked some cops and they shot autumn leaves at me
I jumped off a cliff and fell straight to heaven
I smiled and my face ripped itself in two

Anti-Poet

You see them sometimes
Packed into mental asylums
Like brain dead puppies
Mumbling haiku
Shouting sonnets
Writing pentameter in feces
They'll bash their heads
So hard into the padding
Then cry over the
Lack of blood
Until the orderlies stroll
On by
Offering tonight's meal
Coffee and
Veggie burgers
The same thing
Every night
And the patients will
Wolf that down
As if it's the flesh of some
Writer from the ghetto
And at night they'll strum
Their ukeleles
Singing about 1980's pop culture
And kitchen utencils
I don't want to be
An inmate in that Hell
A lifetime citizen
At the Green Grove Sanitarium
For The 100% sane

The Love Of My Life Is A Crust Punk Girl

I recall wandering aimlessly through town
As I am wont to do
When I laid my eyes on you
Girl With No Name
And how you changed everything
In just a few seconds

You had:
A bowl haircut (dyed dark red)
Green, piercing eyes
A leather jacked splattered with punk rock patches
Nails polished pitch black
Tattered blue jeans
Steel toed boots

You were about 5'9''
And had a little bit of meat on your bones
But were more or less thin

And I remember
Chasing pulsing veins
Through the neurons in my brain
In the everlasting euphoria
Of your prescence

As you hovered ten feet above ground
And fell through the Earth
Without making a dent

I'm A Hit At Parties

I'm a misogynist
For a reason
Folks

But I don't believe
Women belong
In the kitchen
That's just silly

I just think
Women are
Evil
Diabolic
Fascist
And treat decent men
The way that Michael Vick
Treats puppies

Right Before I Cum I'll Stop Punching You In The Face

Some people wouldn't
Know what humor is
If George Carlin
Was gnawing tit-fuck jokes
Into their lifeless corneas

These walking punchlines
Slip on banana peels
Into their own
Colons
Only finding giggles at
The bottom of their
Five dollar lattes
Pretension clouds the rest

Who knew that
Their emptiness could
Be funnier than
A spinning bowtie
On a townsquare lynching?

Cerebral Photography

Awash in an ocean of dark matter
a girl with mountain road curves
protrudes butcher knives
from her wrists
carves a still life of a dying forest in my chest
and tells me
“I will always forget you”
The blood has dried on steel
and the canyons remain
rendering “Art” a misnomer

If Suicide Were A Coward's Way Out This World Would Be Filled With Ghosts

There will be a brief calm
The hum of a fan
The flicker of a light
Raindrops pause mid fall
Metal will extend from fingertips
Past the tounge and the tonsils
And then a brief silence
Followed by a loud BANG!
And the world resumes
In it's chaotic dreariness
And the organs and bones splattered against the wall
Will be someone else's problem

Nostlagia Is A Cruel Joke

There were times
when we would drink from cyanide rivers
under the burning sky
We would even inhale the fumes
and look at the world through rainbow glass
Now it feels like the colors are broken
and I'm cradling them in my calloused hands
They are too sliced to feel the damp ghosts
of my former ethanol-brothers
and the poison has long left my system
I just want to drown myself one more night
with you
before the sin of the moon
swallows me whole

How A Pacifist Deals With Anger

I have days where
if life were a human
I would punch them in the face
Twice
Then jack off into their black eyes
and scream
“Where's my dinner, bitch?!”

Love

There was a crowd gathered
in a meadow of dead grass
on the night we hanged you
from the moon
Your plastic body swung
like the pendulum on your
biological clock
as the cigarette burns on our arms
were blanketed by baby skin
The foliage around
sprung to life
wrapped itself around your limbs
and ripped them down
to the healing Earth
among the crying ex-lovers
and everything you owe

West Virginian Book Of The Dead

One the day I burst through
the guts of a stranger
they snapped my photograph
and put it on wanted posters
hung in strip clubs
where the attractions
throw knives at the ugly picture
and giggle to themselves
Meanwhile
I am chased to the ends of the Earth
by some army
whose soldiers all look like me
So I hide within my skeleton
knees bent to my hardened cheeks
and wait for the red skies
to take me
where I started from