Wednesday, February 27, 2013

My Endangered Bliss

You look phantasmagorically at me
in accusation of an endearing proposition.
I just need three drops of vitamin D
while you require a truck load of tacos.
Nothing will get the job a gold star
when we cannot focus on the opening of
an eye that is responsible for firing of the cannon.
Reprise me,
shock me,
taser me,
and elope with me.
It is the same old game we have
been playing.
I know you hear me.

My Meditation

I lay down on the floor
to stare at the blank white ceiling.
All the lights in my room are on
to make the ceiling the brightest canvas.
And I think about all that I should do,
all that must be done, and what I should not have done.
Submitting yourself into wrong doing
is a very complicated scheme.
If anything, you should compromise
your brain and your hands
into creating a healthy habit
rather then a hate crime.
Your lord is a leviathan
and your heart is a stone,
but somehow he loves you still.

Sunday, February 24, 2013


A rich in mirth playwright
weighs heavily upon an audience
in which to guide it's next step
onto flat screen and fake actors portrayal
of something they could care less about.

When were the good old days
the witch would scream curses
and spells!
The crows would fly and attack with talons
scratch at me deep
and stain my eyes with
forever asleep.

Carrot House Hoppers

Tripwire set off explosions
which make me happy to see others die
and I do not mind at all
when someone cries, "Oh please let me go!"

Sleepy Time Reveries

Serpent crystals weaving trees
picking up where we left off
at last page of my journal.
If we finished the story,
lets begin our own
in secrecy inside a paradise.
Do you ever peer through a keyhole
and wonder what mechanisms keep the unwanted out?
The keyhole is a paradise
that only you and I live in.
We are lock-picker protected.
Come and enjoy all the sun
and play the mandolin for me.

If I Got The Attention I Needed, We Wouldn't Be In This Crises

Any method I try is a failure.
Anger does not work.
Kindness is pointless.
Internet is useless.
Social media is stupid.
Talking is obtrusive.
Learning is backtracking.
Commercialism is a sellout process.
Mainstream is too unhipster.
My way is the worst way.
Money is happiness.
Starving artistt forever.
Just help me to help you to help each other
to make the world go round.
Or lets just start a new war.

February Poem Titles Combined to Make a Poem

  • I am always wrong about job recreation. 
  • Spoiling for a Bludgeon
  • All I Eat Is Candy
  • A Freelance Dove
  • Sleeping On The Scapegoat Train
  • Dogma Breech
  • A Farce Rudiment Pertaining to Russia
  • I Know What I Do. Am I Doing it? Oh God What Am I ...
  • Sidestep the Trellis
  • Absolve
  • Common Intrusions
  • Oh Where.....
  • Mirror Showing Remorse For Not Being A Mirror. The...
  • Mediation Meditation
  • Stuck Yuck Ughhh Why?
  • Never Have A Tissue
  • Convoys to Tajikistan
  • Trepidatiously
  • The Cannon Ball Logic
  • Spontaneity Hot Lips
  • Post War Analytical State
  • Shoe Graze
  • I Am Blood In The Meat Market
  • I Am Chalking To You
  • Online Baggage
  • I Dream of Iron Clouds
  • I Adhere To Nothing But To The Pages Of A Book
  • Muffins They Glow, Muffins They Do Not.
  • Normandy, Can You Serve me Food?
  • I Commend to Mild Deformity
  • Make me a Taco.
  • Shrink
  • It Changes Fate
  • The Green Pastoral Sheen
  • And all I had to do was copy and paste.
  • That was too easy.

I Am Always Wrong

When I know I am being mean,
I think, "Why am I doing this? Why am I saying this? Why am I typing this?"
I do not really want to be mean.
I just want attention.

Job Recreation

If not a job comes knocking at my door,
if not a friend wants to ever see my face again,
then I continue to hid away in my room.
Creating and inventing many things,
interaction becomes less important,
most humans are imbeciles anyways.

Spoiling for a Bludgeon

A sweet compromise takes hold and steady,
fasten me up for the latest ration
just so I can feel like what it is to suffer!
Get me into the middle of a riot
and trample me with feet,
that's the best way to make friends
with the worms underground,
press my face into the mud
so that I may kiss the small ones.
For it is them who do all the hardest work
on this planet
so we can stand erect
and illicit.

All I Eat Is Candy

Let me know
when the flowers spoil the butterflies,
giraffes roam freely in New York,
spores are not causing allergies,
turbulence between tree tops are the loudest noises,
when blood stays inside the body,
teeth become duller,
metal and plastick break down and wash away,
pain does not mean gain,
when money is twigs and leaves,
and when Facebook are portraits drawn in a sketchbook.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

A Freelance Dove

The tower at the end of the space station
is boring until we painted the interior
a bold hue of orange
because I drink orange juice hourly.

When he was a dove,
he would ask me questions
about my past, present and future.
It was nice when he cared.
He was so free
that his wings took him to every girl.
I was not special.

I continue my work for the frontier of space,
a new asteroid awakes my
sleeping caterpillar.
Horizons full of satellite metal junk,
soon it will be so dense that the
sun will be blocked
and humans learn to die.

Sleeping On The Scapegoat Train

Nigh into the night
we gnaw at karats
in remorse of the bunnies
that whisked away into
the tornado clouds.

Tell me if I am doing it again.
You know, that thing with my lips...
oh yeah talking. I don't like it.
Ask me kindly to stop.
I wish to sleep
in fragments of a poem.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Dogma Breech

He has a leech!
And I am sticky with goo.
Resuscitate my gown.
Carlos only wants to see my nipples.
What he has yet to find out is that I have none.
I am a nun and I am alien.

A Farce Rudiment Pertaining to Russia


Let's take an adventure to the Motherland.

I Know What I Do. Am I Doing it? Oh God What Am I Doing? Don't Bring God Into This?

For minute in Minot, ND we minueted.
I told my mother, "It was pleasant."
You told your father, "It was difficult."
The audience applauded us for an encore!
However, you pranced off the stage.
In all my eighteen years of life,
I thought that minuet to the soft,
ambiguous melodies warped my heart
into loving you in romantic territories.
I wanted to undress you.
Now tell me the truth.
"I am gay."
And I thought a man could love me...

Dreamless struggles in a pampered life
twist the curls in my hair.
Wrestle feather pillows for pleasure
overcome frustration of what
life deals me with pain.
If I get it, I'll get it the wrong way,
yet it is better then the stingy society
envelopes our youth in.

Sidestep the Trellis

Dancing over yonder ridge
ocean gate to the fantasy
of letting go
to let be what you really see.

Drown the garden,
foxes fade,
fleece seeps,
saplings misshapen.

Dance to the ridge once more
something photography dares
to capture are feet
for passion of movement.

Stomp the hyacinths,
displace the ants,
grass blades broken,
thistles snap.

Dance has potential
and a raw exorcism
fills your lungs
values your brains.

Exude the ghosts,
therapy to muscles,
rejuvenate chakras,
love the bones you're in.


Social anxiety, the mountain never conquered.
One step forward are many steps adding to the equation
that degrades my mind.
We are in a race of puzzles.
Do I fit in there?
Or would I feel more comfortable there?
These questions leave me outside.
Attitude adjustments need to be complete
lest I begin a new friendship,
the bitterness entrenched inside
rips out the stitches of what ha tried to heal.
Trying is not an option.
Just be yourself.
What I am is all wrong.
There is no "ME" to be and I hate that.

Common Intrusions

Without a bath, a meal, and socks,
I meander lovingly through the streets of joy.
A bread without yeast cannot entice me.
From one summer lover to the next,
a dandy fellow such as yourself elapsed into
that same elliptical pose of possession,
the one that made your loose your epilepsy of oppression
on the very same night of progressive peasantry
and optical illusionism polygon porridge.
In all the same sense, it is a mockery made of me.
A betrayal onto hedonism like wine on top of water.
What if I was candid in your presence,
would your concise lips caress a silver lobed ear
of mine without being a gold digger?
If that is all you think women are after,
then globe trot around the world.
Work with the elders and the
untouchables of India.
You will find enlightenment in your chest.
A wretched coronary artery is barely breathing.
Let go of your comfort.
You can be so articulate like a robot.
All that data congealing in your mind.
Where is the super sauce
or the whisper of freedom
loss of temptation and addiction?
In an abode is a commode, mantlepiece, family crest...
health not hazardous
balding contemptuous
throw a shot put.
Whittle the tiniest hours
for loathsome thieves
counteract archetypal screams
the schematic in your mind..............

Monday, February 18, 2013

Oh Where.....

I think it is so absurd for me
to be writing when I feel my first
set of poems are so unresolved.
I feel like I've betrayed those poems.
But I feel so embarrassed when I reread them.
It's best if they are left to rot.
I don't know where my vision is.

Mirror Showing Remorse For Not Being A Mirror. Then What Is It?

Difficulties passing the bridge,
you count alone
standing at the edge of a rock
on a horizon
so it is your turn to become
Earlobes structured incorrectly,
what have you done if you cannot
do this the proper way?
Annunciate everything.
Foul words pour out of morning glories.
Perhaps a daffodil will prove
less horrific delights
are all but mights and flights.
Piece together a geranium
and then the gnomes will applaud you.
Where is the mirror?
What is a mirror?
Can you find your face?

Mediation Meditation

I configured the scattered glass shards
were all pieces of your heart
triangulated like lemon seeds
in a perpetual poppy pleated case.
If the wind should blow you in my direction
one must remember to overcome
all thoughts of suicide to decide
that levitating in reclusive rooms
shall do no one of any service.
Try to please your eager mind
for a mild tune of stressless romance,
partake in fantasy,
catch the eyes of a prince.
You can summon anyone you wish.

Stuck Yuck Ughhh Why?

I felt so inspired today.
My daydreams were full of ambitions.
Marc Bolan was frolicking through my brain.
I wanted to get home and do everything.
Most of all I want to draw Bolan in a glam fabulous outfit!
And then I wanted to write poems
but now I am writing about what I should be doing
and I'm not doing it.
#Marc Bolan

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Never Have A Tissue

When you cross the street
or when you unwind the garden hose.
Try to catalog your lunacy
in a deep seeded diary
or all your secret fears.
Imagine me in your dark side
when there is no tunnel to the light.

Friday, February 8, 2013

Convoys to Tajikistan

I am searching for a life
like I have never searched before
I need a meaning to a thoughtless conclusion.
If a saviour can be serious,
then a chocolate chip cookie will be eaten.
Thank you for your devastation.


Sgraffito in religion
in or out twice as many times
as it would be it began
all at once in a new time.

I thought I began a new poem
but it feels like all the rest.

The Cannon Ball Logic

A domesticated long shot
looks like your blogspot
come hither for your punishment
you got not glow.
Either you fake it or you take it
a long cold look
break the glass in your hand
and you got boiling blood.
Dumping it into pockets
soaking full of glory
have I got your attention
or are just that boring?
Nothing can be beaten
until you've eaten
the glorious meat
of fantastic duck feet.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Spontaneity Hot Lips

close to harm but far from a farm

church metal hindi ragas chime from ear to ear as a metaled body mouse sweeps from side to side, atoned to be correct in devilish haze grows a lazy grime and a heart throb that bleeds.

muffled trout in a zoo threw a spoon, threw a spoon. but the hippo saw that the spoon was gloom and blasted it off into space and explodes like Mardi Gras beads.

i play with my tooth and all the teeth see that i am no more then a villain in the lacksadalsicle streets.

turn on a dime, turn on a penny, do not turn on a fire inside a tiny rabbit.

twice baked muffins and once baked potato, a two time barking dog and a stereo without a sound, a bank and a drill and a microphone too!
tire tired tried so true
triple thoughts and double blue balloons.
a fortnight away and a day too soon
can we see a walrus just this once?

bubbles in the evening, bubbles in the night, they do not think like these ones do but it will give them many a fright.
triple staircase left and quadruple teardrops fall, an antelope descends and an elephant ascends!

Post War Analytical State

I wanted to make artwork to a number of my past poems
but I stopped that project.
I am too afraid of it.
I am overwhelmed.
I don't know how to make it work.
I have no guidance
and no support.
I feel like it's a waste of my time.
I like to write the poems
but if they are implemented into a larger plan,
I stop and a stare
like a deer caught in the headlights.
I just leave my body and hide.
I can't do anything.
Not with this attitude I can't.

Shoe Graze

My titles are not matching up to the poems very well lately. I don't like doing that. It's like wearing the right outfit but the wrong shoes or vise versa. Or maybe it's like the wrong outfit and a completely wrong hat. I dunno.

I Am Blood In The Meat Market

When it rains buckets of sorrow,
a sparrow can rest his song.
The fluttering of butterfly wings cease
to the occasional longitudinal heartbeat.
When you can finally forget the taste of pizza
and the fizz of soda
is a day when the good days with friends end.
Is there any way to change that?
Some say it can,
I am a pessimist so it can't.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

I Am Chalking To You

Once a well
is always a well.
If a unicorn crosses the street,
then follow it.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Online Baggage

Oh you know, I am keeping score
of open scars left unattended.
Ruptured cellophane
cannot retain
moist mushrooms from
ruining the fun.

I Dream of Iron Clouds

Mimicry moth wings
default seaside shells
adapting aptly to pay the bill.
Crude young lust
evaporated muscles
tugging strings at the pulleys
and levers
witnessing a carefully caressed

Sunday, February 3, 2013

I Adhere To Nothing But To The Pages Of A Book

Packaging tape seals a suspicious cardboard box
let me deal with it please.
I can never fumigate a sweet forest
lest I leave the stove on
while I crossbreed lilies and foxgloves.
Exotic is to esoteric
as in many ways of the subconscious
levels of the human brain,
I want to give you my everything
and to always tell the truth.
Am I equal enough,
balanced, and stable?
A gemini simultaneously women
acting on illusions of running somewhere,
where to, the cushion shares my impressions
of my body.
I have clearly never been moving fast enough.

Even as the title states is a lie.
I have not read a book in two months.
I adhere to nothingness,
like particles in space.
I adhere, perhaps, to the chair
because it reads sloth.
I am a sinner.

Muffins They Glow, Muffins They Do Not.

A soft illuminati usage of fluff
in a grand scheme to devour the world
in a pile of stuff
to forget about the grass and the roots,
the natural cycles and the moon.
Do not try to rise to the occasion
that this places you in.
You are bold and passionate,
but I collect the loose ends
that fray from your knit robes.

Normandy, Can You Serve me Food?

Do you remember what you were for?
The bull, the rooster, and the master
tribal rural gold mine to a point,
the breaking off of friendships
is a lasting acid burn
like loosing sleep
over the course of
forty-five years
and so on.
SO if you feel
you have right to push me down,
then move your lawnmower off my lawn
or I shall release the bulls onto you.
They are attracted to the fire under your feet.

I Commend to Mild Deformity

Another ambassador follows
a sour value sinking into
the muds of the marshes.
And you could not believe
the tears in your eyes.

Make me a Taco.

Crazy island, I am ill.
Point me to a direction I believe in.
A coursing river,
frogs roam freely,
dragonflies love me by the evening.
If I can't find my dream
by sunrise
then winter will last forever
in a frozen heart.


A smaller world is because of a narrow mind.
Am I peering life through a pinhole
or is everything really is as it seems?

It Changes Fate

I reunite ammunition to the immune system.
Our imaginations are stunted by the growth
of technologies.
A great many spirits have warned me
to click my heels
to find a home.

Friday, February 1, 2013

The Green Pastoral Sheen

In the markedly silent, yet horrific
automobile crash site,
I threw a rock that disintegrated
into cheese and feathers.
The gray loose edges of carbon fiber
figurines rose exceedingly fast to
catch the calloused lily from
the evil and accursed hands.
The bones shake
and I fake a smile
and leave out through the backdoor.
I walk out onto a field filled with
surveillant serpents with cameras attached,
detached, and attached again to their
smooth, cold, luxuriant backs.
I am nothing more then a victim
to them.
Their venom can disengage me
into submissive positions.
My covalent bond is charged
for maximum power.
I will charge out of this space
and hope for a truly inspiring
arrival into a noteworthy
food chamber of gluttony commerce,
also known as a chain restaurant.