Monday, January 27, 2014


The whiskey bottle-capped secret
scent diffision,
if it is affirmative…
can crawl like dust mites
up the hearth of your home.

The lazily longitude of your slurring speech
cannot subdue the bottom card.
You will not ace my heart.
I will no longer live by your side.

If what I am telling you
is the utter truth,
you have my lips as your thirst
and below my girdle is your meal.

Upper or lower,
growing outwards in flesh,
rippling the molecules connecting
by infinite laws of science.

Let's have sex.

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Chair Unusable: Rising Agony

When the sticker stuck,
it clung with dignity.
As for the others…
intestines do not
zing lightly.
The cultured pearl
on the epidermal regenerative
is a gender neutral narrative.
Grasping the slippery branch
with fluffy tail,
have no use for touchable snails.
Clipping sledgehammers
and jackhammers alike,
switching lanes to piss off the mice.
Cannot communicate with clandestine
mate in unnatural surroundings
before they are pulled into a void.
Within the void is only a chair…
a most unusable chair.

The Sparse Chichilad

Hovering above the bed
that gravity used to beat me
down on, all accounts comfortably,
has now been broken within sincerity.

Time has been sparse for writing about
my withering state of wanting to live.
I get no attention because I do not
know how to properly get attention.

Space has been expanding
in conjuncture to my never-ending
search for nothingness.
I will take myself to Starbucks.

Monday, January 20, 2014


I exported my blog to wordpress just for experimenting.
I like what I've done with it.
I'll probably change the url
but here go look

Sunday, January 19, 2014

Opulence at the Height of Anticipation

The moonstone glow is a sun dance away
crowning the glory of an observatory
kissing the King and Queen's feet.
Court jester stares at the unruly
actions of the cantankerous daughter
owning up to little just to cause a nuisance.
This is where the opulence began and ended.

At long last we have the cadence of peace,
the rhythm of returning souls to the population.
Dawning at the sky, purple and blues catch the clouds.
Remember to tuck away the monsters,
keep them away from the crowd.

The King and Queen tend the land in honor
of long held traditions,
however, the degradation occurs.
At the strike of noon, the book of hours
collapses creating a tare in reality of time.
Some unknown disruption leaks in.
No, it was not the wine.

It must have been the mercury
seeping out her pours
possessed by source of alien
activity that caused her to burst.
The King and Queen weep over
the torn flesh remnants.
The cour jester, capativaed by curiosity
touches the silver liquid
and his flesh develops painful marks
and exhales toxins into the air.

No one but a servant escapes
alive enough to wonder around to
the market place calling out for help.
The servant expels stronger toxins.
Thus, the plague shall spread.

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Oh how I am looking forward to death…

Grating on the Edges

It sounds as if it hurts,
makes strobing lights fail,
seizes your rhythm
and brings ones eyes to close.
Before any face could speak to me
I've shut out my feelings
and left myself with
a tundra hybrid desert
all for you to burry me in.
If I am to be my own undoing,
here it is in writing,
Self defeating in every possibility
there is simply no future.
I am not meant for this earth.
No one was meant to see me
and if they have, they've now forgotten.
I do not exist.

Thursday, January 9, 2014

Social Train Car Derailment

Within all my lackluster ability
so consume a crowd of onlookers,
I partake into the unknown field of dreams.
What do we know about dreams?
It has only lead me to thousand mile loneliness.
On the train tracks I had to decide
to live or to die.
I chose to live.
I hopped on to that train
and it was a mistake.
I am surrounded by others,
all of them strangers.
Potential friends? Maybe.
But I would not want to bother them.
In a sheer act of lunacy,
I pull the emergency break
causing the train to become frantic
and at last derail.
A social act of murder and therein lies
my demise.
I am not to be missed.

Glam Mansion

My gothic furniture, for it bestows
robust velvet upholstery.
From the Brazilian hardwood floors,
to the vaulted ceilings,
the Etruscans would be jealous.
Your own appeal could not afford
this grand piano.
Diamond dust sweeps across the expanse
of the floor.
Follow me into the kitchen…

Come try my curry sauce.
I will drip it out of my mouth.
Pyscho-cosmic chrome helmet,
ruby red adorned hips,
let us play with the new installment
of the motorcycle gang.
We are nearly more then eccentric.

Glory Bell and Feathered Furnace

Jade glass eyeballs commodifies you a certificate of authentication.
That you truly are of cybernetic virtue.
You possess the hard drive mind.
Your intellect is powered by microchips
connecting wirelessly to databases of
extreme knowledge.
Please just know that you are meant to be human.
You are meant to be my friend.

If I was raised in Georgia and overcame my
white trash poverty,
I would let you benefit from my mouth.
Wearing fanciful dresses and partying about,
stay away from crocodiles - don't let them eat you out.
I have this marvelous feather hat in my closet,
it is meant for you.
It matches the color of your glass eyes.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

Looking Back

The Harbinger of Ill Fated Discoveries: Please Feel Inclined to Disclose Yourself Of New Information (Full Title)

Based on a comment, maybe I should explain little more about the surrealness (if you will) of this poem. I would let speak for itself, but I love this poem a lot. Potatoes are an awesome versatile food. So I placed the humble potato on a pedestal, what if we had to worship such a food? Potatoes have been popular to peasants throughout history. At the end of a great catastrophe that rattled all of the world, we'd have to rely on this food to survive.

Hushed Sounds of Winter's Dead

The sun is blocked out due to abnormalities
of the chain reaction to the rise of a Queendom.
When mothers, daughters, sisters and their bff's
became heavy hearted from loosing countless battles
at the biannual berserker blowing tournaments
at the partially invisible ice skating rink,
the universe cracked open…
in other words, it became a hot mess.
Glowing boylders shaped like breasts,
thumping and constroodling misers and the czars,
humping, hips thrusting, half way to Mars.
My eyes counted the flying cars;
One, two hundred, and three thousand million!
His hair grew out in a flash, became dreads,
constricted his throat till he no longer was breathing.
My chaos is bending the time.
Remember when we used to be happy
sipping on coffee, sucking down sweets,
skipping class with our every heart beat?
And we are in love because we met.
I do not think my Gemini planets were in
alignment that night.
Yet, we got along and had fun.
Brand new barnyard chic is the latest trend in fashion.
Have you got a light?
My hair strands are wicks that need flames.

Friday, January 3, 2014

Before I Sleep

I gathered what dust I could
and blew it off my chest.
My 32B sized breasts
are just hills
that flatten when
I do a backbend.

Newest and Bluest

I am clinicaly inclined to be
a professional cynic.
At the procession of my choosing,
for I have chosen well,
to have a dose of peanut butter
from my Granddad's hands.

However, my confusion stems
from the protruding mushroom
under your drooping eyelid lance.
Do I pluck it and eat it?
If I do not, I go hungry.
How cannot you not see my
emaciated body?
I wear loose rags.
Are you encumbered to belittle me?

SO here I climb the chair.
Up at the rafters hangs
a tightly knotted rope.
If I am this depressed,
you would have saved me
by the bell.
We would have run away
to be with only us
and nature.

HAPPY 2014!
it is a new me.
sort of.