Eric Lawson

There Are Drunkards Up in the Trees

2012-02-25T11:27:00.004-08:00

It's another balmy winter night and
there are drunkards up in the trees
I'm not sure how they got there
I would guess that they climbed
But
they can barely
lift their hands to drink,
much less pull their own weight

I call out to them from the safety of
my apartment's kitchen window:
"Hey, you drunkards! Climb down
from there before you fall down!"
But
they can barely
hear their drinking songs,
much less words of warning

Whatever possessed these drunkards
to climb into these damn trees tonight?
I am bewildered as to how they were
able to transport the bottles and kegs
But
they can barely
maintain their equilibrium,
much less discern physics' laws

They yell and they carry on
They dance and they leap frog
They taunt me with working theories
for cold fusion and women's brains
They hurl empty bottles and cans
against my hapless apartment and
I cannot tolerate them anymore!

I scour my pad for projectiles
Nothing with enough weight, it seems
Looks like this will have to be a closer
encounter with tree climbing drunkards

Ipso facto, I can't use my Exacto knife
Rhymes won't entice them down, I deduce
Money will just be wasted on more drinking
I cannot follow this insane line of thinking

I walk outside and call up to them:
"Toss me a bottle of your highest proof!"
Seconds later, I'm seeing pink elephants
and the drunkards have migrated down
But
they can barely
stand upright in the driveway,
much less continue drinking with me

I pass out two bottles later in the night
I wake to feel a breeze upon my nakedness
I realize I am a hangover personified and
good intentions were scattered by the dawn
But
I can barely
keep my throbbing brain on track,
much less get down so I open another bottle

Come Hither, Leaf Blower

2012-02-20T13:40:00.000-08:00

You're the only one who gets me, leaf blower
Not my wife, my kids or my beat up pick up
When my wife nags me, you're there for me
When my kids expect me to help with Algebra,
you're there for me
When my boss calls me out for drinking at work,
you're there for me
When I jiggle my gut in the mirror and sigh,
you're there for me

I wish you were my wife, I'd treat you so well
I would love
to make sweet love to you...again
But the emergency room incident of 2009
is still oven-fresh in my mind...and crotch

I wish you were my kids, I'd bring you up right
I would love
to give you birthday presents...again
But as you didn't get along with the parakeet,
I can't see that ever coming to pass

I wish you were my boss, I'd obey your decrees
I would love
to landscape the world for you...again
But now that the Cheesecake factory has a
strict no leaf-blower policy, it's pointless

You never judge me or my obesity
You never nag or use reverse psychology
You never need Algebra explained
You never care if I'm constantly drunk

You just want me to strap you on,
pull the cord, squeeze the trigger,
and blow away the neighborhood

Come hither, leaf blower
What beautiful noise we will make
Fear not, leaf blower
I keep my cell phone handy
The paramedics are just 911 away
You're worth the humiliation
You're worth the suffering
You're worth the jail time
Because you give worth
to an undervalued man
in these wishy-washy times

Love Lingers in the Lights

2012-02-20T12:41:00.000-08:00

Another wasted night without you
Wondering where you are,
who you're with,
who you're fucking,
and if you're fucked up

I turn the kitchen light off

Another night sweating out a fever
Wondering if you still love me,
if I still love you,
if I fucked us up,
and if I'm fucked up

I turn the living room light off

Another night of starts and stops
Starting laundry and then stopping
Starting to drink and then stopping
Starting to write and then stopping
Starting to leave and then staying

I turn the bathroom light off

I pause and ponder why relationships
start off sailing upon smooth seas,
but are so easily swayed and then
run aground, forming relation-shits

I turn the hallway light off

I pause and ponder why we must
meet in a sexual Thunderdome
instead of a quiet, well-mannered
board game devised by Mattel

I turn the bedroom light off

My anchored eyelids are closing
Tonight's accomplishments include:
Half-finished laundry
Half-finished whiskey
Half-finished verse
Half-packed suitcase

I turn the reading light off

You left me like electricity
Your current slips through
fumbled switches in the night
and the lighthouse crumbles

I extinguish the candle
of though that lights
the beacon of trust
where my love lingers

Because I Just Can't Make Another Bottle of Iichiko Magically Materialize in the Back of the Fridge

2012-02-14T12:11:00.000-08:00

My powers of preparation have seriously diminished
There was a time when a bottle (or five) of alcohol
held a place of honor in the fridge and/or cabinet(s)
No longer
I seem to be moving away
from easy answers and affordable vices
On this day, of all commercialized holidays,
I think about what love is supposed to be
But then I stop and reflect,
though never in a nearby mirror,
on what is real vs. far-fetched-fantasy

My powers of internalization have grown stronger
There was a time when I would tell anyone anything
and not worry about secrets escaping from my grasp
No longer
I seem to be moving away
from the ideas of community and safety
On this day, of all crystallized romantic failures,
I focus on what-makes-you-stronger-bullshit
But then I stop and regroup,
though never in a old duffel bag,
and formulate a new working strategy

My powers of filtering out false pretenses lapsed
There was a time when everything made sense
and I didn't need to let anyone into the heart hotel
No longer
I seem to be moving away
from stone-cold independence on the fringes
On this day, of all days to be orbiting love,
I quell my boredom with an inner monologue
But then I stop and whimper,
though never in a soap opera way,
because you left with the last bottle of Iichiko

Questionable Answers

2012-02-14T10:57:00.000-08:00

Your answers beget more questions
I feel like we'll do this dance forever
You, me, and a melody older than
our grandparents' grandparents
We cover the same old ground in
what passes for conversation
"How was your day?"
"Have you heard from so-and-so?"
"Should we fuck before or after
the movie because we both have
to be up early for work tomorrow?"

Your questions put me in a corner
I feel like the canyon is widening
You, me, and a river so far below
that no one drinks the water anymore
We have rehearsed our lines so well
that we don't even pretend to care
"You never talk TO me"
"You always talk AT me"
"Let's have sex because we both
need to feel the closeness even
though love has been smothered"

Your answers beget only silence
I separate cities will suit us fine
You, me, and a bustling metropolis,
growing much faster than any forest
We are strangers writing endings
for bio-pics with weak second acts
"How does it all end?"
"How did it all begin?"
"Wasn't it a chance meeting on the
street outside that cafe downtown
and we both badly needed answers?"

What You Want

2012-02-14T09:37:00.000-08:00

What you want is so much more than what you need

Like me

What you want is so much more than what is good

Like me

What you want is so much more than what is right

Like me

What you want is something more than half-assed

song lyrics written in a lonely cafe on Valentine's Day

But this is all you're going to get, sweetheart

What you want is a five year plan, no spontaneity

Get real

What you want is an entire month of Saturday nights

Get real

What you want is fairy tales without responsibilities

Get real

What you want is something more than half-assed

rants branded with coffee stains on Valentine's Day

But this is all I've got on short notice, sweetheart

What you want is Hello Kitty instead of BBC News

Grow up

What you want is a house to spring from debt seeds

Grow up

What you want is Forever 21 instead of time and tide

Grow up

What you want is something more than half-assed

one-sided conversation via text on Valentine's Day

But this really isn't what you want, sweetheart

I won't be your launching pad into the statusphere

No, not anymore

It's just not what I want

Aquaman Lives in Inglewood

2012-02-11T13:45:00.000-08:00

Oh, how I wish it wasn't true;
Aquaman lives in Inglewood
I saw him on Centinela Blvd.
He was break dancing on a
scrap of cardboard with a
boom box under the 405

The once proud superhero
and protector of the seven seas
now does the robot for change
I saw him over on La Cienega
He was in a plastic pool filled
with a fake sharks and squids
He wrestles them for a quarter

Are there no villains to defeat?
Has Atlantis been destroyed?
Was he stripped of his powers?
Are green and orange no longer
tolerable costume colors today?

I saw him last weekend again,
cleaning windshields on La Brea
I gave him five dollars and coffee
I told him to sit on the bus bench
and tell me what in the name of
wack Justice League marketing
crossovers was going on with him

This is what he said:

"It's a recession, friend
Reinvention is the key to survival
The oceans are polluted
The oil keeps getting spilled
The blood is everywhere
The blood of plant and marine life
I had to leave
I had to change
I have a family to support now
I went to my friends for help
They all said the exact same thing:
'We'll call when we need someone
to fight some fucking fish, you freak'
So there you have it
However, my dancing is improving..."

He went to his grocery cart and
took out his cardboard dancing scrap
"I call this one Poseidon's Beard"
he said and danced to a sea chantey
sped up with an inane techno beat
I laughed
He laughed
A stranger placed a dollar in the can
I turned and hurried away
The stranger asked what Aquaman
would do later for twenty dollars
I cringed and picked up my pace,
but that sad, stupid sea chantey
stayed in my head for days

City of Industry

2012-02-09T15:13:00.000-08:00

There are still working factories here,
but they are hidden and surrounded
by the strip malls and strip clubs

There are still warehouses here,
but they have been farmed out
to dot com start-ups and chop shops

The city wraps its arms around the
highway in a passive death rattle
and we drive over the corpse

We used to make things here
We used to have dreams here
We used to raise families here
We used to retire better off here

Now
there is only the feeling of drifting
Now
there is only the facade of commerce
Now
there is only five dollar coffee for the road
Now
there is only more road to require coffee

I ask three people where downtown is
A kid shrugs his shoulders and walks away
A mother says she just moved here
An old man sighs long enough to
make Leonard Cohen jealous,
and looks at the dusty sidewalk
and says to no one in particular:
"We couldn't stop long enough
to put down roots and plan it out.
So Progress steamrolled America."

He sat down, defeated, on a bus bench
But we both knew that the bus to
Second Chances wasn't ever coming

Marie Lascu's Turtle Ashtray

2012-02-02T11:28:00.000-08:00

Marie didn't install the ashtray
The turtle was born that way
It was the end all,
be all,
of the universe's birth defects

Ralph the turtle was very proud
Strutting his slow-paced stuff
Doing back spins
Coughing loudly so that people
would stop and notice the ashtray

Ralph would get jealous of Marie
Not of her late night writing fits
or of her career ambitions
or of her boyfriend collecting,
but that she was never home

"Who will stroke my ashtray?"
Ralph would cry to the heavens
(but it sounded more like a belch)
No one ever answered him,
so he would smoke another Camel

Marie came home to Brooklyn
to find Ralph dead on his back
He had died while trying in vain
to do turtle sit ups and push ups
The strain of his headband alone
had caused a massive coronary

Marie was terribly distraught
until
she found a cat with peg legs

She kept the turtle shell ashtray
as a shrine of fung shui convenience
It finally proved,
(as Ralph had hoped),
to be the ultimate
conversation piece

If I Can't Use You

2012-01-28T14:20:00.001-08:00

If I can't use you, then what use are you to me?
your eyes screamed at me across the yawning
chasm that was the uncomfortable courtroom

There was no love in that glance
There was no hope in that glance
There was no empathy,
sympathy
or anything resembling
human emotional connection,
logic
or rationality

You had become a cold reptile
Using your daughter as a pawn
in a legal battle for financial gain
No one wins
in a battle of
broken homes and
shattered futures on welfare

If I can't use you, then you might as well be dead
your quasi-legalese screamed at me through my
mailbox on a monthly basis from Bitter Ex Ville

There was no remorse in those words
There was no feeling in those words
There was nothing resembling
anything approaching
an olive branch of truce
in a stilted rejection letter
from the ambulance chaser

You have become a caricature
Nothing in your personality
makes my heart skip a beat
whereas not many years ago,
I would have gladly pole-vaulted
over burning forests
just to hold you close
on a windy winter's night

If I can't use you, then what's the use in trying?
your sigh screamed at my as you scurried past
as I held the door open like the gentleman I am

One day you will be bitch-slapped awake
It will not be by me because I no longer care
One day you will lay down your selfish ways
I will not be there to notice changes overdue
One day you will place your daughter above all

I will
be there
for her, always
Not because you cannot muster the effort,
but because daughter's need their fathers
Especially when their mothers have failed
Failed to acknowledge
that this is a person
who only requires love
Love you are too selfish to provide

Realize this:
You have lost what you never had
Having it would have saved you
I have the tools to save you
But what would be the use?

Gravity is Flawed

2012-01-25T14:48:00.001-08:00

Apparently, if it doesn't make dollars,
then it isn't supposed to make sense
Gravity turns no profit
It makes even less sense
Opposites do no attract
Singularities attract oppositions
Like fields eventually repel
each other
and everything else
that they are designed for

Apparently, if we can't be together
then it isn't supposed to hurt at all
Gravity turns on people
It makes pulling easy
Open hearts do not betray
Single people attract drama
Like personalities grate
each other
and everything else
from so-called good intentions

Apparently, there is no Stargate
and I can't hold you in an instant
Gravity is utterly flawed
The push/pull is skewed
Open minds do not distract
Singularities must give in
Like-minded lovers pine for
each other
and everything else
and gravity only lets us down

Shoebox

2012-01-24T21:14:00.000-08:00

No rug to tie the room together
Not together enough for a rug
Not fit to be tied down here
Together I am me myself, and I

I can see the entire cottage
with one turn of my neck
I can see what I have and
what I am still missing

The TV is turned off
It bores me because
it won't talk back to me

No internet
No cable babble
No gas for heat or cooking
Yet the toilet
runs
and
runs
and
runs throughout the night
It's to the point now where
I can bellow
the middle eight of "Creep"
in time with the waterworks
"She'll ruuuunnn..."

Yeah, I really do that shit

My shoebox has beige walls
or are they eggshell white?
I need to cover them up with
posters and paintings, pronto

The fridge smells like bleach
The carpet smells like beer
But the bathroom
is utterly
immaculate
enough to be a swell sanctuary

The bed is strategically positioned
either for periods of restless sleep
or endless bonus feature watching
or random bouts of fucking
It creaks with appreciation

The microwave is temperamental
It takes some Fonzie-esque finesse
for meals to thaw before human
consumption is recommended

The cabinets are tiny
The closets are smaller still
There is no living room to speak of
but I find plenty of room to live

If silence is golden, then why oh why
are my ears ringing in the vacuum
where to heartbeats should be
sharing
this bungalow bliss fest nightly

It is an undersized shoebox
for an over sized imagination
A gifted auto blocks the doorway
but the brainstorms
keep blowing in,
unhindered

Tell Me Everything

2011-12-24T10:21:00.000-08:00

Please, sit down
Have some coffee with me
Crack the egg of your insecurities
Spill your reasons onto the carpet

Explain it all
Explain how you continue to sail
upon a rudderless relationship
Tell me of your mystery man
Tell me everything

Tell me about his temper tantrums
Tell me about the blood stains
Tell me how his chosen savior
spawned vampires and werewolves
Tell me how he's diabolical and
still cuddles with kittens in bed
Tell me about what he calls love
His love that leaves you bruised
His love that ensnared you into
his dank, windowless apartment
His love
that erases
everything
you were before

Tell me everything
I will solve your mystery man
I will provide a lifeboat to escape
your rudderless relationship
I will explain it all

I will pour all the coffee you can drink
But first, you must sit down
Start with three little words:
"I need help"

Oh, Insomnia

2011-12-21T10:14:00.001-08:00

Oh, insomnia
You are an itchy straw hat
which sits uncomfortably askew
upon an overcrowded mind after midnight
I want to rip off the hat
and slice into the itch with a katana blade
But there is no hat
and the itch is my keyed up imagination,
teasing me that I'm missing
something,
somewhere,
with someone
There must be an artistic kegger raging
where grants are given as parting gifts

Oh, insomnia
You are a painful finger flick
against the taint of my unconscious
while sugarplum fairies fuck like porn stars
beyond my bloodshot periphery to spite me
I want to break that finger
and swat the fairies with abandon
But there is no finger
and the fairies are my brainstorms,
teasing me that I'm missing
sincere salutations,
coffee-fueled conversations,
and chimpanzee high-fives
There must be an artistic net designed
to savor all of these light bulb moments

Oh, insomnia
You are a last minute present
bought at 3 a.m. at a gas station
designed to torpedo all relationships
and ultimately sink every Christmas
I want to return the non-present
and blow torch the expectations
But there is no present
and the expectations are my fears,
teasing me that I'm missing
youthful tyrannical tirades,
opportunities for epic fails,
and longings to cannonball into love
There must be an artistic haven where
the continual loss of sleep is a plus

Angels & Demons & Coffee & Pac-Man

2011-12-10T13:34:00.001-08:00

Who will save me from the rat race of my life?
Who will vanquish these tormenting demons?
Who will replenish the coffee when it runs low?
I say only Pac-Man is up to the allotted tasks

Why Pac-Man?
Why not?
Surely he is more interactive than some
omni-present deity that people take on faith
Surely he lifts my spirits when they're low
Surely he grants my wishes in the night
when the Tooth Fairy is on vacation

Pac-Man can discern whether it be angels
or demons that try to lead me astray
Pac-Man is yellow and I am pasty white
He will teach me about ethnic equality
Pac-Man loves only to eat and Mrs. Pac-Man
He will teach me about quality living
Pac-Man surely imbibes more coffee than
I could ever dream possible in one day
Sleep, he implies, is for pussies

Angels leave crude clues for me in the night
Demons strain to make my nightmares real
Coffee is the enabler that gives me strength
Pac-Man wants out of the arcade game, pronto

Should I heed his pleas to be set free?
Should I heed his warnings of blue ghosts?
Should I follow him into the dot-filled maze?
Should I ask him the secret to Dan Brown's success?

Surely, Pac-Man is adorned with a vibrant halo
What do you mean I shouldn't worship him?
I have his image on file, his manuals in hand
Can I not follow the teachings of a limbless being?

So you're saying he's not real, but I have the toys
So you're saying he's not alive, but he makes noise
So you're saying he's not good, but he thwarts evil
So you're saying he's not a prophet, but he abides

Still you ask, why Pac-Man?
And I still reply, why not?
The only difference between a new digital cult
and older religions is their acceptance over time
Surely all religions started as secret societies
Surely you would not judge me merely because
Pac-Man does not appeal to your way of life

Progress?

2011-12-08T18:02:00.000-08:00

The hand that holds the gun is not as callused
as the hand that held it last
The finger that pushes the button that launches
thousands of missiles is manicured
The mind that designs the remote-controlled
bombs that will destroy continents,
is also deciding what to cook for dinner
and if it's their turn to pick up the kids
after soccer practice

Humanity cannot breed out the acidic impulses
that stem from thousands of years of blood lust
But we can design weapons that can kill
almost instantaneously
with less structural damage
with less innocent casualties
almost irreverently
with less psychological effects
with less chance of repercussions
almost indifferently

The hand that holds the gun
The finger that pushes the button
The mind that designs the bombs
are all still pumping blood into
the military industrial complex
But it's not all that complicated

Human beings kills each other

Not for individual survival,
but for the foul implications
of a once clean word called

progress

Scoundrels R Us

2011-12-06T13:49:00.000-08:00

The impression I get from you
is that you are slightly afraid
Not of me, perhaps
But what I represent
I am a soundrel
A rogue
Not a safe bet
Not what you're looking for
Well, my dear lady,
fear not
Scoundrels are expanding
and business is always good
Be careful with your suitors,
their pockets may be deep,
but their personalities
are truly murderous
They will
bore you
to death

Tearing & Tearing At The Venice Grind

2011-12-04T19:20:00.001-08:00

She asked me how to spell "tear"
Does it mean to cry or does it
mean to rip something apart?

"Depends on the circumstances,"
I respond casually,
like the pimp I hope I am

"I trust you," she replied,
like a pixie/actress/model

For one scorching moment,
our eyes were tractor beams
Our smiles synchronized
and our hearts, set reeling,
hopscotched around the cafe

But then her Chi tea order
arrived and she was soon gone
Not gone from the cafe chair,
but absorbed into a headphone
universe head bop for one
and I clearly wasn't invited

Though I didn't shed a single tear,
part of my ego-meter dipped,
and something inside shifted,
and I wanted to tear up
what was left of
the night

Madam, Your Perfume Reeks of Rimbaud References

2011-12-03T10:44:00.001-08:00

Madam, surely your olfactory senses
have gone the way of the Dodo bird
The patrons of the cafe have all fled
Those who could still move, that is
A man in a wet suit set himself on fire,
leaped out of a window into heavy traffic,
shouting:
"Merde!"
all the way down

Madam, your perfume reeks of Rimbaud
references and all their implied debauchery
There will be no orphan's New Year now
No sailing down the Seine on the drunken boat
The barista has brutally blinded herself,
so as not to prolong this season in Hell,
shouting:
"Merde!"
as she did the deed

Madam, how is your hair not soaking
from dousing it with a gallon of perfume?
Did you blow-dry it after the flood?
Outside, the hanged men dance upon
swaying branches eagerly sought for reprieve
Suicides plunge from the highest tower,
shouting:
"Merde!"
all the way down

Madam, upon turning a pruned sixty,
did your illuminations then fade bitterly?
Bad blood informs your witches brew
Poorly-aged wine cannot obliterate
this repugnant odor from my vessel
Like Rimbaud, you must have peaked at 21,
whispering:
"Merde..."
at the welcoming spectre of Death

Poem From The Sea

2011-12-02T18:46:00.001-08:00

Hello, my friend(s)

The words you are reading
are the last I shall ever write
A hurricane is drowning the
island I am marooned upon

I have maybe an hour
or
I maybe mere minutes

I am reaching out to you
You, who cannot save me
I am resigned to my fate
I have lived a rogue's life

I have tamed vicious lions
I have robbed frontier banks
I bedded a brothel in New Orleans
I have several bastard children
with several single mothers

I have survived African safaris
I have traversed Indian mountains
I have wandered Jamaican fields
I have endured Asian revolutions
Only to end up here...???

I do not know the day
or the month or the year
I keep time with the waves
now lapping at my swaying knees

The storm grows ever stronger
while my strength dwindles
Soon, I will be submerged
and that will be my end
For I never learned to swim!

Did I mention that I am wealthy?
Something of a media mogul
Water, now up to my waste,
has amplified my desperation

I want to fucking live!
I want to have sex until I chafe!
I want to drink into a splendid stupor!
I want to write a torrid novel!
I want to paint a self-portrait!
I want to step on the surface of Mars!
I want to cure Cancer and AIDS!
I want to skydive naked, while singing
"Who Wants to Live Forever"
at the very top of my lungs!

The water is up to my neck now
Must write faster now
The bottle is slipping
Do not forget me!
If you find this note,
please tell the world
that I survived the crash!
There is so much more
that I need to live for!
The money is buried here!
Google me, my friends!
My name is

Race Card Driver

2011-12-02T18:24:00.000-08:00

No time for pit-stops now
I'm on the final lap to glory
I can't fight City Hall,
but I can easily weave
my way around loop holes

Racial equality is not beneficial
to the status quo bureaucracy

Downshift
(I can't be racist if everyone else is, too)
Evade
(As long as I ignore it, it will go away)
Maneuver
(I cannot admit when I'm wrong in public)

Yellow lights flash harshly
No cop, no stop
No time to think
Play the race card, pronto!

"How dare you treat me this way!
I will sue you for discrimination!
I'm an American, damn it!
I have a Green Card!
You are powerless against my
mixed message media onslaught!"

Setting the cruise control to middle class
Another hollow victory beats losing it all
The finish line has been crossed
and double-crossed again
I can't fight impending progress,
but I can clear the road of obstructions
from my
point of view

All Praise The Shopping Cart Tree

2011-12-01T19:07:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the whitewashed halls
in the vast temple of commerce
Kneel down
Kneel further
Kneel until you are on the floor

Empty your wallet into our registers
Dig deep into your worn out pockets
Spend fast
Spend more
Spend until you turn into a void

Praise the shopping cart tree tonight
See how it feeds off of your delusions
It needs your enthusiasm
It needs your gullibility
It needs you to need it year-round

Every year the tree grows ever-higher
Each and every cart is filled to the brim
Filled with trinkets and toys
Filled with batteries and power strips
Filled with the latest and greatest products
designed to make your head spin and
keep you reaching
for your ever-shrinking wallet
In spite of the fact that it's empty
In spite of the fact that you have no credit
In spite of the fact that
Christmas has been put on Lay-Away
until Halloween or maybe Thanksgiving

No matter the reports to the contrary,
you must keep on spending and giving
The shopping cart tree is always hungry
and it cannot be chopped down anymore

Lady Clown Shoes

2011-11-30T20:01:00.000-08:00

Lady, your boyfriend is a douche bag

What baffles me is that you know this

You know and are not bothered at all

In fact,

you appear

to revel in his toolish behavior

Lady, your boyfriend's existence is an

affront to all of my sensitive senses

You are either indifferent or psycho

In fact,

you appear

to be an enabler of his tantrums

Bridges burns so easily these days

You will not

live forever

nor will you

ever live down this heinous offense

This is not a True Blood marathon

You're no vampiric fashion maven

Yes, you're hot enough to make all

the frat-fucks at the bar howl nightly,

but alcohol isn't getting any cheaper

I made you a one-time offer, dear

You shunned me almost instantly

Well, the company you now keep

makes you guilty by association

Congratulations, Lady Clown Shoes

Don't call me

when he stops calling you

anything but "fetch me the remote"

Withholding

2011-11-30T18:21:00.001-08:00

It's downright rude to hold all the marbles

You tease

You won't let me in your heart for a second

Is it the distance?

Is it insecurity?

Is it because you can't get a read on me?

Haven't you figured it all out yet?

You genius

You are withholding yourself from me

Is it the timing?

Is it the informality?

Is it because my actions betray my words?

At a certain point, all this mystery gets old

You siren

Is it the culture?

Is it the indignity?

Is it because I'm a gamble you can't bet on?

I was so intrigued by you

By your everything

By the way

I was so ensnared by you

By your charms

By your aura

I was so baffled by you

By your detachment

By your wake

There is no manual to figuring my wiles

Your insecurity is catching

The distance wares on me

Seconds become months without love

You loner

I have lost my interest in holding marbles

U.C. Davis In My Eyes

2011-11-27T18:45:00.000-08:00

In my eyes, peaceful protests
are protected by the law
under the Constitution

If they are using pepper spray,
then they are afraid of you
If they are afraid of you
then the movement is working

No mace in my face
will move me from this place!

If this generation Y Not?
needed a rallying cry,
then they got one in spades
"Remember U.C. Davis!"

It's no longer a numbers game
It's no longer 1% versus 99%
It's New Ideas versus Tradition
and something's got to give

From Wall Street to the back alleys
From California schools to online classes,
people are finally waking up

In my eyes, a country
that ignores the plight of some,
soon will suffer the rancor
and revolution of the many

If they are publicly apologizing,
you have them where you want them
If they have acknowledged you,
then they have respect for you

The future is yours
Stand up
Stand firm
State your purpose
Make the changes happen

People always ask where have all
the social commentators gone?
The Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young's
The Marvin Gaye's
The Wyclef Jean's
The N.W.A.'s
The Conor Oberst's
The Bob Marley's
The Bob Dylan's

I say stop looking for others to speak for you
Open up your own heart and find the words
I know these are dark times right now
But daylight presents new solutions
Even when the sun gets in your eyes

Blame It On The Snowman

2011-11-21T18:54:00.001-08:00

When the limping car held together
by duct tape and wishful thinking
doesn't start in the freezing morning,
blame the snowman

When the rain seeps inside that
years-old rip in your raincoat,
blame the snowman

Blame the inanimate object
drooping on the front lawn
Blame the thing kids pelt with
a barrage of daily snowballs
Blame the thing
that can't fight back
that has no rights
that has no opinions
that has no feelings
that you don't owe money to
that didn't break your heart
that didn't die in car wreck
that didn't ever
let your fucking needy ass down

When you need others to blame,
the snowman comes in handy
Did you ever once stop and ask
why you're over thirty and still
building snowmen scapegoats?

11/20/11 (Unfinished)

2011-11-20T20:00:00.000-08:00

For Beyond Baroque

I do not know the significance of the words,
only that I need them as much as oxygen

The day began with death
under harsh florescent lights
Death in a pine box
Death too soon
Death delayed
Death in the lobby
waiting
for more death to arrive

At midday, flood waters
made Centinela into a river
Water in my shoes
Water in my eyes
Water in my way
Water seeking an ocean
waiting
for more water to arrive

Tonight we huddle together
for warmth, friendship, and words
Words for comfort
Words to confound
Words to unite
Words leaving pages
waiting
to be heard, read, and cherished

I do not know the significance of the words,
only that their work remains unfinished

Acronymph

2011-11-16T19:20:00.001-08:00

Even during her high wire act,
she still managed to condense
some of her words into acronyms

"The bigwig BMF's from BFE
need less MSG in their UFO's,
ASAP, minus all the IOU's

My MFA studies include
deciphering all of BA's BS
concerning the AFI snubbing

Meanwhile, NKOTB are
terrified that REM likes
NWA more than TLC
and can't handle ROUS's"

It was far too late to
find her true meaning
because she had fallen
to her death hours before,
while everyone else there
still had their heads
in the clouds,
pondering

Cosmically Speaking

2011-11-16T18:49:00.001-08:00

Girl,
you
are
so
out
of
this
world
that
you
make
the
rest
of
the
universe
look
downright
finite
by
comparison

Walking Off All The Baggage

2011-11-16T12:56:00.000-08:00

Cinder blocks are tied to my ankles

Trash cans are latched to my waist

Multiple monkeys are on my back

Hammers are hitting my shoulders

Chairs are dragged by my arms

Cables are wrapped around my neck

A lead helmet weighs down my head

All this

while strolling down the sidewalk

while feeling the heat of the afternoon

while creating temporary solutions

while trying to reach out to you

while knowing you are miles away

All this and more, much more

With each labored step,

the cinder blocks begin to crumble

The trash cans empty their contents

The monkeys grow wings and fly off

The hammer swingers tire and leave

The chairs splinter and break apart

The cables unravel, falling to the ground,

enabling me to shake off the heavy helmet

All this

while hearing your voice on the phone

while finding shade amongst the trees

while putting future plans in motion

while having you accept my reaching

while realizing you aren't that far away

All this in a matter of moments

Goodbye to the Golden Boy

2011-11-12T13:46:00.001-08:00

I must kill the past outright
in order to give myself a future
I must purge all my seasons
so I may flourish afterwards
With machete in hand,
I violate the nubile body
of all former usefulness
Cherubic, playful locks, shorn
Smooth face, scarred over
Muscle tone, diminished
Get up and go, long departed

The piper at the gates of dawn
has grown fearful of storm fronts

So long, matinee idol good looks
This skin must be shed quickly
Innocence replaced with cynicism
Positivity replaced with doubts
Regrets begetting complacency

I don't want any more hero worship
in a house that has become my cell
I don't want to attract attention
for shallow and vain purposes here
Aiming the machine gun,
I mow down the notions
of how I am to be perceived

No more tolerating mediocrity
No more trite New Age rhetoric
No more trusting strangers
No more free pieces of me

A saucerful of secrets has completely
overflowed into a reservoir of tears

At my feet lies former glories
I need to bury the rotting corpse
before it taints the clean slate
and shadowy witness take note

So goodbye to the golden boy
The one who served me so well
The one whose persistence paid off
and took this dreamer for a ride
I hate
to see him go,
but I need him gone
Otherwise I cannot grow
The time for planting has past
and I need to harvest the bitter crop

So kill the last golden boy
Kill the idea of perfection
Kill the sentimentality
Kill the righteousness
Kill all associated and do it tonight
Kill the man
so that I may spread the myth
and learn to live with loss
in the real world

I Didn't Come Here to Play Board Games

2011-11-08T18:11:00.000-08:00

The moon is full and so is my bloodstream
Three bottles of wine lay empty at our feet
Assorted crackers and cheeses
have been taste-tested a'plenty
The conversation has ebbed
The fire is dying out as well
Tonight is not a night for board games
Tonight is the night for animal urges
to
run
wild
We play this No, You Go First game
but I tire quickly of averted eyes
Who will make the first move?
Who will make their intentions clear?
Who will attempt the first sloppy kiss?
Who will be bold and assertive enough
to declare: "I'm putting myself out there
for you
for now
for we are free and alone in this cabin"

Not all that must be said verbally

I'm not sure why the alcohol is necessary
It can't be nerves
It can't be the fear of rejection
It can't be nature's fuck-starter
But it is all that and more as we know

I gaze into the fire and sigh soundlessly
and then you pull me into an urgent kiss
then you you gasp as I find your neck
and then
our eager hands
work on autopilot
and our hearts buckle up tightly
for the rollercoaster we have unleashed

No Double-A Batteries Within Walking Distance

2011-11-05T11:26:00.000-07:00

This
makes
for
long
nights
when
the
winter
winds
howl
and
the
power
goes
out

She Speaks Granola

2011-11-02T19:16:00.000-07:00

Like a penguin gliding around
disguised as an ornery nun,
she certainly has her habits
Like your friend who always
has to be right about everything,
she has no handy pause button

But damn if she can't translate
for latter day entitled hippies
Living in the commune
Living off the grid
Living via yesteryear

I can't barter for warped
Grateful Dead concert tapes
I can't listen to yet another
half-remember Woodstock story
I can't reason with anyone
still using beads as currency
But she can somehow do it all

For her, politics isn't an obsession,
it's a community shorthand
For her, living green is tame
She detests all corporations
For her, being faded is part
of the wake and bake lifestyle

She talks about The Beatles
as if she knew them all
as if she suggested lyrics
as if she played tambourine
as if she were even alive
as if they needed defending

But we all love her breezy style

She hawks her handmade jewelry
She makes her own comfy clothes
She knows that you will fall under
her unforced, soothing sultry spell
of her pigtails and endearing smile
like the iPhone jugging clown you are

She speaks granola with panache,
but also PowerPoint, Excel, Quickbooks
wearing a short skirt and a long jacket

She knows that processed bullshit
came from the ground organically
and will return there eventually

She tells me that forward thinking
and healthy living can lead to less
tiring hikes to the end of the
rainbow and cosmic enlightenment

I shrug my tired shoulders,
take a swig of my energy drink,
and say: "Call me when you get clean"
and resume my walk towards infinity

Believe It Or Not

2011-10-31T12:04:00.001-07:00

There is a picture
I have seen it several times
It is a picture of yours truly,
dressed as The Greatest American Hero
for my kindergarten Halloween party
I am leaping through the air
from my parents porch to the ground below
The look
on my face
is one of pure, innocent joy
All I can remember is how much it hurt
when I hit the ground
when the costume got dirty
when the bus driver almost passed me
when the chest symbol kept falling off
when none of the kids knew who I was
But know this;
I looked fucking bad ass in that suit
Even if no one else thought so
I knew
But mother never should have told me
not to jump off the edge of the porch
Kids take that stuff as a double-dare
So for mere seconds I could really fly
Believe it or not, there was no fear
There is a picture to prove it

Except for the Can of Mixed Vegetables

2011-10-29T15:40:00.001-07:00

I came home to find the apartment empty
No furniture
No clothes
No posters or paintings
No electronic components
No food in the cupboards

Propping the bedroom door open was one
solitary, unopened can of mixed vegetables
No note attached
Was it merely an afterthought?
Or was the can itself the message?

She always chastised me for my eating habits
"Not enough vegetables"
"Your food has no staying-power"
"Do you want to have a heart attack by forty?"

I set down my bag of groceries and undid my tie,
which had felt like a noose since walking inside
"Fucking bitch," I muttered as if mattered

I picked up the can and squeezed it hard
Nothing happened
I yelled "Do you think you're funny?" at it
Nothing happened
"Always have to have the last word?"
I dropped the can
it landed
on my foot
and I howled with pain
It hurt much more because of the underlying
emotional current
I was holding back like eroding floodgates

I jabbed at the can with my trusty pen
I couldn't even dent it
I threw it against the nearest wall
I would pay for the dent in the wall
Yes, it would cost me money,
but it would also be a constant reminder
of how I had been one-upped
and jeered at by an inanimate object

I began looking at furniture websites
I stopped to order Chinese food
I wrote my name on the can

I would begin again, Spartan for now
There was nothing in the room
Therefore nothing to hold me back
Nothing to remind me of her

and her irrational mind games

Nothing
No, I won't even say it
I won't mention
the tiny cylinder
in the corner of the room
minding its own business
The business of humiliation

White Noise Lullaby

2011-10-28T18:29:00.000-07:00

Turn on the ceiling fan
even if it's freezing
Turn on the television
even if it's just static

Turn on the night
Turn it on low
Turn to slow

I can't stand the silence
I need to drown out my
overactive thoughts
I need more distractions
from my escalating stress
from my responsibilities
far away from you
far away from me

I need to get lost in
be a part of
be one with
the idea of activity

I have an active brain
so my mind needs to
run laps in my sleep

When the silence creeps in
I'm left with nothing but time
Time slipping away
Time ticking by
Time to die

The only thing worse than
not having enough time is
contemplating infinity

White noise drowns out all
of my fears and doubts now
Like an electronic lullaby
that never tires or repeats,
the static blocks out the
world for me to finally rest

Helicopters Have Run Amok

2011-10-26T13:48:00.001-07:00

Helicopters have run amok tonight
They seem to be flying everywhere
How I despise them
How I wish they would leave
How I detest their invention

Like metal mosquitoes on steroids,
they buzz around out of my reach
Like ancient dragons on a mission,
they swarm into my neighborhood
Like Huns on the warpath for Rome,
they show no mercy in the night

What they hell do they want?
Why are they interrupting my sleep?
Who are they searching for?
When will life return to normal?
Is it me that they're after?

I open my bedroom window and yell:
"Fuck off and die, you assholes!"
They continue to circle
"Did you bring the entire squad?"
They continue to circle
"Is this compliments of City Hall?"
They continue to circle
"Will someone tell me if I'm dreaming?"

Then I hear it: WATER

Rushing from parts unknown
Swallowing cars, trees, houses
Rushing to drown my arrogance
Swallowing me in askew pajamas

I scale my house onto the roof
I shred my clothes and bleed
I'm bleeding all over but I can
barely feel it for all the adrenaline

Then I see it: WATER

Submerging my car and work shed
Swallowing my neighbors homes
Submerging my patio and hedges
Swallowing from the ground up

I climb on top of the chimney
I shred my fears and doubts
I'm crying and screaming but
the will to live has overtaken me

I rope ladder hits me in the shoulder
A spotlight nearly blinds my vision
I grab hold out of mere reflex and
I am lifted away from the flash flood

Helicopters have run amok tonight
They seem to be flying everywhere
How I admire them
How I wish they would multiply
How I praise their invention

The Migraine

2011-10-23T18:29:00.000-07:00

I pine for a handy electric drill
and yet I cannot leave the bed
I feel like someone is slowly
crushing my head in a vice
My jaw is clenched
My mouth is a desert

Animal the incorrigible Muppet
is rampaging through an
unending drum solo for the ages

I want to climb up the nearest
mountain but my muscles ache
I feel like someone has encased
me in a too-tight gorilla suit
My eyes are throbbing
My back spasms

Metal rakes are gouging
down invisible chalkboards
in a Foley artist's wet dream

I want to lash out--
but the room is empty
I want to punch walls--
but I have no strength
I want
I need
I must
escape this wretched state

I want to fight--
but I have no opponent
I want to fuck--
but I have no lover
I want to fly--
but this body walks
I want to die--
but the heart pumps

lifeblood

from heart to brain
and other organs
and then back again

Water is the answer
I never recall the hangovers
Only the wine
the whiskey
the shots
So many damn shots

Sasquatch is bear-hugging
my spine as if he alone
can burst the pinata

The ceiling fan is evil
yet it cools my heels
on a bed that floats

I want to end this
but I don't know how
I feel like someone is
documenting all my pain
My hands twitch
My neck is numb

I close my eyes again
The fan's lullaby of
cooing white noise
eases my burden
as sleep envelops me
like a mother's embrace
One breath later,
I am whole again
I am renewed
I am relieved

Baroque and Broke

2011-10-22T12:56:00.001-07:00

Today's boxcar hobo transients
were yesterday's circus stars
All stars eventually burn out
Blame it on anything
Recession
Dwindling attention spans
Nostalgia becoming passe

Where do clowns go once
their usefulness dissipates?
They go nowhere
and everywhere
and back again
Today's stops are border
towns and trailer parks

They must keep moving
Every town is a new start
An opportunity to trot out
the time-tested old routine
Tonight's random pedestrian
audience is an easy mark

Seltzer water
Squeaking shoes
Loud toy horns
Card tricks
Rabbits in hats
And tomfoolery galore

Blood, sweat, dignity
are all heartily dished out
Everyone always claps,
but no one wants to pay

All clowns are only in it
for the quick laughs, right?
Isn't procuring instant joy
enough to pay the bills?

Lines in the Sand

2011-10-21T18:07:00.000-07:00

I draw this line in the sand to test your mettle
You cower at the mere idea of crossing it
But your resolve surprises me
Like countries clashing
and emotions raging,
this situation requires a cool head
I will be the arbitrator

I draw this line in the sand to test your loyalty
I don't think you posses the temerity
But your fortitude is uplifting
Like animals in heat
and war rooms alerted,
this situation requires a buffer zone
I will be the armistice

Don't you dare
step over this line
I'm warning you
I have my boundaries
I have built up my walls

Don't you dare
crush my sand castle
It's my undefended heart
I have no armies left
I am at your mercy now

Opening up to let the light in
hurts like a motherfucker
But I can no longer live
numbering days of numbness
I am tired of drawing lines
They all make right angles
towards bitter conclusions
and leave me vulnerable
to the whims of the tide

Screamer with a Cell Phone

2011-10-20T14:49:00.000-07:00

Hey, asshole, we can hear you
All...of...us...
Everyone in the cafe
People not even here yet
or those who just left
Employees off of work
We can all hear you
Take that shit outside
Take it down the street
Take it and shove it
Just leave this place
Some of us are trying
to send angry emails
in all CAPITOL letters
without annoying others
with every detail about
our very own personal
impending apocalypse

Nanoseconds of Clarity

2011-10-15T10:19:00.000-07:00

Sinatra sings "Come Fly With Me"
as we peer outside through tinted,
dirty windows pains and stare
down
down
down
towards concrete absurdities

Ain't life grand? I surmise

Even modern effigies eventually
crumble and mix with the soil
which will nourish saplings
up
up
up
towards uncertain heights

Life is but a fading match

Choirs of bass-thumping stereos
remind me that everything is
relative to persistence of mood
over
over
over
towards unending spin cycles

Spontaneity is the lifeblood

Special Features Night

2011-10-11T18:51:00.001-07:00

So it's another special features night
This refers to nights when you've
read every book on the shelf
called every local friend
played every board game
written every poem in your head
done all the housework
prepared for the next day
done laps around the neighborhood
watched every movie ever made
etc, etc, etc
usually this is reserved for rainy nights
Netflicks and Hulu offer shmeh

I now turn to the special features
on my assorted DVD collection

But tonight is completely different
It's not raining like a mofo outside
The laundry is threatening me
The suit needs rigorous ironing
My stomach requires ice cream

But you're not here
But you can't be here
But I can't let you in here
Because now you're outside
of my heart and I have closed
down the theme park for temporary
renovations and uber self-evaluation

The commentary tells me nothing new
The making-of is unmaking my night
The deleted scenes add nothing to the
overall story of why we stumble in life
The web-docs are editing whirlwinds
designed to give me vertigo and grief
The bloopers remind me that I like
being the one to make others laugh

But who's laughing now in the silence?
I think all clowns are truly depressed
We laugh to quell the boredom
Hell is repetition
I need to break this inane routine

No more special features for a while
I will live my life out of the frame
Someone in the future can watch
the special features of my life story
They will be amazed at
how I blazed a trail of bliss
and never once edited myself

Vanity Plates

2011-10-10T17:39:00.000-07:00

My personalized license plate tells you
everything you'll ever need to know
I'm a pompous tool
beyond arrogant
a loose cannon
a raging alcoholic
an adrenaline junkie
a weekend rockaholic
a spoiled daddy's girl
a clingy mama's boy
a rich snooty bitch
a carefree jet-setter
immoral to the core
one lude, crude dude
or buddy or pal or bro

My personalized license plate tells you
everything you'll ever need to know
I'm a tricked-out
driving, conniving
inferiority complex
that can't abide
the notion of
professional
therapy

When the Bus Reeks of Taco Bell

2011-10-08T12:52:00.001-07:00

When the bus reeks of Taco Bell,
I have my work cut out for me
I know that I will step in
(something)
I know that I will sit in
(something)
I know that I will put my hand
on something I wish I hadn't

When the bus reeks of Taco Bell.
I know it's going to be a long ride
Someone had fed theirs kids
or themselves
or the floor of the bus
(I've seen it. Don't laugh)
Someones kids got full halfway
into their meal and let it fall
or smooshed into a nearby seat
Just in time
for me to plop into wearing my
freshly washed and ironed suit

Good times
Scratch that
Bad times
Make that I want to die times

Unlike that friend who has cats
that make their house stink like
a living monument to piss,
I cannot just get up and walk away
Oh
how
I wish
it were just that easy

The worst part is obvious;
Having taken in the sordid smells,
my body now craves a seven layer
burrito and indigestion to go

Touche, Taco Bell
Touche

Manhattan for Beads

2011-10-04T18:29:00.000-07:00

This land is sacred to our people
We survive on the whim of
Mother Earth and repay her
How does one "own" land?
How does one "claim" a river?
Why would you need to clear
away the trees only to plant
odd fruits and vegetables?

What is a musket?
What is gun powder?
What are horses?
What are swords and armor?
What is marriage?

Your strange ways frighten us
Your black clothing and your
double-talk language are
painful to my ears and eyes

You will never take our land
You are few and we are many
This land is sacred to our people
Why do you need an island?
You have nothing to trade
Wait
a second here
Do
you say
that you had jewelry?

Whistling Faux Pas

2011-09-28T15:03:00.000-07:00

Human beings are not robots
Allow me to repeat myself:
Human beings are not robots
We make mistakes
A lot of them
Sometimes daily
Sometimes hourly
Sometimes repeatedly
Especially when we should not

I have a serious problem
I whistle at inappropriate times
I cannot help this
It is merely a knee-jerk reaction

I whistle while other people work
I whistle when I walk into the bathroom
I whistle when leaving the bathroom
I whistle when driving
I whistle around crazy people
I whistle when driving people crazy
I whistle when sneezing,
farting,
laughing,
crying,
sighing,
running,
walking,
pointing,
or stealing popcorn in the theater

I know society does not condone this
But, well, society can go suck it
I wouldn't be me without my tics
I would just be a clone of you
How boring would that be?
A bunch of faultless automatons
working and never really living
Sounds like Robotsville to me

Burying Hope

2011-09-27T18:38:00.000-07:00

It was not necessary for the customary
six foot deep grave
It was not necessary for the customary
six foot casket
It was not necessary
for you to die
before your first fleeting year

But you did
But no one saw it coming
But we can't take it back
But we have to go on living now

without you

Hope was buried in the ground
long before her time

and yet,

she somehow brought us together

Telephoto Lens Lament

2011-09-24T12:49:00.000-07:00

I spy you from five hundred feet away
You cannot see me
or
you see through me
or
wish that you could see past me

I snap shots of your shapely visage
I am a mosquito to you
or
an itch you cannot scratch
or
a fiend you cannot vanquish

There is a mutual admiration that
we occasionally allow to spill forth
You need me for publicity
I need you to pay my bills
You hate what I represent
I hate your flippant behavior

Together, we sells tabloids
Together, we light up the Internet
Together, ignite the embers of celebrity
Together, we perpetuate the myth of
what Hollywood means to young girls

Chasing you, my svelte ingenue, is akin
to Ahab's quest for the white whale
To finally obtain physical contact will
ultimately lead to my undoing
But it is in the doing
that I truly come alive

All else in my life is discarded blur
I wait for your arrival
I eat fast food on the go
I ignore my wife and children
This is my sole purpose for living
In this moment behind the hedges
--and then--
I see you in your early morning version:
Just been fucked hair
Sloppy wife beater tank top
Baggy, dirty sweat pants
Plastic doggy bag in hand
Annoying ankle-biter yapping
You almost kick him twice
But you fear spilling the coffee

I pause in revolt and disillusion
Where is the matinee goddess?
Where is the billboard sex kitten?
Where is the make-up promoter?
Where is the so-called It Girl?

I do not like this turn of events
I do not like seeing you this way
I do not like my fantasies shattered
I do not
like the way
your faults remind me of myself

This is not what the people pay for
The people want the fantasy
because the reality cannot be
marketed
categorized
or easily referenced

I pack up my cameras and leave
I will come back after a long lunch
so that oh-so- delicate Hollywood
can have time to put its face on

Car Alarm Concerto

2011-09-18T14:46:00.000-07:00

I. Surprise

Like a severe, unwarranted kick to the balls,
several car alarms wretch me from my sleep
I am startled
I am confused
I am concerned
I am painfully aware that my neighborhood
is not the gated community I would like

The alarms persist and more join the blaring
chorus piercing the misty night's soundtrack
Is it a would-be thief with a crowbar?
Is said thief carrying hidden weapons?
Is this a diversion to get me outside?

I just want some goddamn sleep right now!

II. Revulsion and Anger

What manner of unrelenting auditory skull-
fuckery am I forced to endure at this hour?
I am livid
I am seething
I am unhinged
I am painfully aware that my neighbors won't
leave their comfy confines to end this debacle

I am too feral to go back to sleep right now!

III. Acceptance

In my bleary-eyed delusion, I imagine every
single car alarm on the street having a solo
I am cracking
I am uncertain
I am relenting
I am painfully aware that I am now bellowing
with the car concerto as it abruptly stops cold

I am greeted with a projectile boot in my
mouth and told to go back to fucking sleep!

Patches from Elsewhere

2011-09-16T11:41:00.000-07:00

Denim is not as durable as we would like
How many jeans have I senselessly torn
or ripped
or slashed
or made into half-assed style statements?

Parents cannot abide these awful habits
At least not the attentive ones
My mother patched up countless jeans,
shorts, shirts, backpacks, and socks
But the jeans were the absolute worst

Where did the patch material come from?
Were they snipped from my dad's jeans,
which in turn made his jeans into shorts?
Am I
the only one
who noticed that the patched never quite
meshed with the color of my tyke pants?
I remember
drawing emblems
on my shoulder and knee patches
One was for the elite commando unit
One was for the Girls Have Cooties Club
Another was for building forts in the woods
behind my neighbor's houses and driveways

(What the hell was that about? Forest forts?)

These patches from elsewhere were badges
of dishonor, disillusionment, and just disses
Sewn on markers of the oh-so-middle class
Loving fingers laboring late into the night
Making dollars stretch and twist before
well-worn creases become taped tares

Patches from thrift store blankets
Patches from old hand-me-downs
Patches from weekend yard sales
Patches from other discarded patches

I imagined they all came from the same place
and from a certain view, they actually did
All patches are sacrificed from lager garments
to fix the holes in our sentimental clothing
so that we can continue to live out the
fantasy that these items give us strength,
when, in point of fact, it is the love
and devotion of the patch maker
that binds us all together

Meet me in the Middle

2011-09-12T13:39:00.000-07:00

Meet me in the middle
of the forest at midnight
Come alone
Come discreetly
Bring a blanket
and all your pent up lust

Meet me in the middle
of the moonlit meadow
Stand naked
Stand waiting
Hold a bottle
and drink of the wine

Meet me in the middle
of the meteor shower
Gaze up
Gaze out
Reel in it all
as my arms enfold you

Meet me in the middle
as the rain drizzles down
Revel in it
Revel in us
Smash the bottle
and mount your steed

Meet me in the middle
of the sweltering city
Use yours keys
Use them forever
Bring your yearning
We are free until the dawn

Rebuilding Rome

2011-09-11T00:46:00.000-07:00

My heart sinks at the realization
I am ten rapid years older now,
like anyone reading these words
The memories are surfacing
Thousands of ghosts still hover

Ten years of unanswered questions
Ten years of passing the blame
Ten years of single parents
Ten years of dazed orphans
Ten years of endless denial,
confusion, hate, anger, grief,

and

love lost amongst the ashes

New York City
The Pentagon
Western Pennsylvania

These are mere things
They are replaceable
The human beings who
designed, built, worked,
and believed in them are lost
to a September maelstrom
slowly fading into a national holiday

But there once was an idea
that was the Roman Empire
When Rome fell in 410,
the people did not whither
they simply picked up the pieces

Unlike the Romans,
we pick ourselves up
to rebuild ourselves up

We are here for the long haul

Humidiot Tea

2011-09-08T12:52:00.000-07:00

Everyone is sweating on the sidewalk
The sidewalk appears indifferent
The people look like abstracts,
dripping tea cups right out of a
Salvidor Dali painting

The humidly weighs down the air
The clouds appear indifferent
Suburban blues has overtaken
all the enticing ethnic gumbo
that we are all drawn to

Heat and oppressive humidity push
ne'er do wells to rob a gas station
A cap gun fires blanks at the clerk
A fire hydrant spews forth water
We regress to ebullient cavemen
and eagerly drink in the idiocy
The sun appears indifferent

Flashpoint

2011-08-31T12:44:00.001-07:00

Here is where it all stops

The space between heartbeats

The time between knowing
and
not knowing

Time has slowed to a crawl

My heart vibrates to burst

The wheel turns again

Time speeds up

The car swerves and misses me
by
mere inches

You Are Not A Walking Billboard

2011-08-29T01:31:00.000-07:00

I never realized it until I lived it:
People rate you by the commercial
appeal of your chosen daily apparel
What were to happen if I decided
to wear one solid color for every
day of the week and weekends?
The answer is absolutely nothing
You are not your fucking khakis
Pick your moments to express
what you keep saran-wrapped
deep inside your mysterious id
Live the moments in between
All of them without hesitation
Shouting "fuck ass" into canyons
Laughing at inappropriate jokes
Crying at a stranger's funeral
Singing to a cool ocean breeze
Belching during intense surgery
Burning through a matchbook
Yearning for more cheap wine
Loving like opening cheap wine
Floating on an orgasmic wave
Flying like penguins pine to
Upwards and onwards because
our spontaneous joy never repeats

CA, Pre-Sun

2011-08-26T16:11:00.000-07:00

My eyes are nearly devoid of all moisture
Why do I torture my nubile mind like this?
Why do I insist that I'm missing something?
My eyes can barely take in anything more

And yet,

I have seen may things I cannot un-see

Sweat pours from the bodies that are
mindlessly shuffling down Spring Street
at four-thirty a.m. heading nowhere fast
And me?
I'm fasting from easy kicks via the ATM
The air is heavy
It had been a dark and stormy night like
all the other ones from cliched rejection
letters clogging the arteries of Los Angeles

A tramp vomits into a nearby sewer
A hooker actually turns down a trick
A cop looks the other way on a pot deal
An innocent man is swallowed by the city

I am enveloped by the California night
But this is not hustle and bustle club hopping
This is not rescuing orphans for burning buildings
This is not saving the world from corruption
This is just here and now
Here could be anywhere
Now could be any time before sunrise

This is the time of the street urchins and hustlers
That magic time between one and five a.m.
While the dreamers are all fast asleep,
the hustlers are out making ends meet
or thinking up new ways to con the naive
or putting a new spin on old cons long forgotten

And me?

I'm not in any hurry to get home just yet
but my last hand has been played out
The liquor store closed--
Damn those without second winds!
The paper stand is closed--
Screw tomorrow's tales of woe!
The bus is still off line--
To hell with your snails-paced coffins!
I hail a cab to ease my waiting burden
The only thing waiting for me at this hour
is an empty apartment,
one last cigarette,
and no matches

Pining for Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu

2011-08-23T13:58:00.001-07:00

Her accusations slice through my resolve
like a kataana blade through ice cream cake
It's another trip on the merry-go-round
called He Said, She Said
But between the lines,
resolution lies hidden
in the unsaid

She is versed is three forms of martial arts
like an assassin for hire with a side of cute
I want her to bruise my face, not my ego
I can't carry defeat
But in the anger,
honesty spews forth
like molten lava

"You know what you did," lingers in the air
like an answer to an phantom rhetorical
It's another episode of Read My Mind
and I'm the guest with a faulty buzzer
But in the confusion,
puzzle pieces connect
like illuminated Legos

"You know what I did," she says to herself
like a confessional to a pack of hungry wolves
I feel like the Book of Us is closing on me
and the umbilical connection is tearing
But in the fallout,
my ego pines for
an elaborate showdown

This is mere fantasy I deduce
because the human heart
is indefensible

P-Funk Bus Star

2011-08-22T10:18:00.000-07:00

He sidles up on his roller skates
He wears a radio on his back
It blasts old school funk jams
His head boasts an orange beret
All of his clothes are loud neon
And he just
can't stop dancing
or smiling
or high-fiving
or spinning in place
on his thrift store skates

The other bus patrons ignore him
They tune out the cassette player
They stare beyond the orange beret
iPods are escapes from all the neon
But they just
can't stop dancing
or smiling
or snapping pictures
or taking mental notes
about this flashy late bloomer

Suddenly, he declares boastfully:
"I never miss a goddamn bus
because I eat that unicorn meat,
motherfuckers!"

He makes his way up into the bus
The other patrons laugh it off
My mood is elevated
My day, brightened

The P-Funk Bus Star rolls on
The business drones tune out
I have turned a rounded corner
for I have a killer poem brewing

Strange Light Indeed

2011-08-22T00:31:00.000-07:00

The sun must surely shine out of your ass
How else do you explain your odd gait?
You must be the end-all, be-all for us all
We dote on you now the deity before us
Ashes
Ashes
We all fall down

I miss the humble you before the ass-kissing
I miss the you who always had a joke at the ready
I miss doing a line of shots before last call
I miss the "us versus them until the end"
Build the wall
Build the wall
Together and divided

Your self-created mythology suits you to a T
Sipping tea at banquets instead of smoking it in hotels
You used to be so cool when the nights were hot
Does that sunshine burn when it escapes your ass?
White light
What light
Filters through a paper crown

Rear View Lifespan

2011-08-19T23:19:00.000-07:00

One cautious glance was all it took
One fleeting peek at the small town
disappearing at seventy miles an hour
One glance to strengthen my resolve
and I knew I would never return
I could never go back there again
Not after all the atrocities I did
to those arrogant, conniving people
Those people who had left me for dead

A U-Haul driver's urgent car horn

lets me know that I'm drifting again
My car was listing lazily left of center
while I was drifting further in time

A rear view mirror is a reminder
of our hovering, ever-present past
We must learn from our mistakes
if we ever hope to have a future

Those left behind are dead to me now
They exist as reflections in the mirror
I need only acknowledge the specters
to gauge the distance that the past
has gained on my precious present

I won't let them beat me again
I can live without mirrors

First Impressions

2011-08-16T14:38:00.000-07:00

I do not trust these footprints
I can see no imprint of the man
The foot is housed in leather
He is weighed down with armor
He is carrying steal
He is arrogant
He is greedy
He will stop at nothing
to destroy our native culture

I do not trust these footprints
I can see no imprint of the alien
The foot is housed in rubber
He is weighed down with elements
He is carrying flags
He is arrogant
He is greedy
He will stop at nothing
to make an outpost his domain

I do not trust these footprints
I can see no imprint of the species
The foot is housed in electricity
He is weighed down by information
He is carrying ideas
He is arrogant
he is greedy
He will stop at nothing
to spread the disease of mankind

Lodged in the Narco-Tunnel

2011-08-14T00:33:00.001-07:00

They say we are 100 yards over the border
but I haven't seen the sunshine for weeks
Santa Muerte protect our business
Santa Maria guide our progress
Santa Claus distract our children

They say if we keep digging every night,
we will have jobs and green cards waiting
I want dead-end Baja to be in my past
I want the drug cartels to forget me
I want America to welcome me this time

They say the Mexicali Policia are close by
and in seconds we will be caught and jailed
I am not sure I want to leave the tunnel
I am not sure that I will have a fair trial
I am not sure Santa Muerte can be paid off

I am roughly pulled out into the sunlight
I am told I will swing from the gallows
I only hope I am sentenced at night
I wish to gaze up at all the stars
because light lives forever

I Almost Sneezed

2011-08-11T01:07:00.000-07:00

Nothing good can come from this
The phlegm has been building up
There are people in the danger zone
My sinuses are draining like mad

But wait

What if valuable liquids escape me?
What if I leak out my brain lubricant?
What if I lose my high school Algebra?
What if I'm about to have a brainstorm?

I can feel it in my throat
I cannot dodge a room full of people
I can no longer swallow my damn snot
It's go time

I find the nearest trash can and then
I lean over it an close my eyes tightly
Nothing happens
I wait
Still nothing happens
I wait some more
Pocketfuls of further nothing happens

I open my eyes can gaze at my palm
There is an address written on it
An address to a place that buys ideas
I want to keep this address

I turn to the room
and inform them I am leaving
and do a crazy robot-like dance
and remove my pants and walk away

Close call, I deduce
I almost embarrassed myself
in front of a room full of close friends
I almost gave myself away by sneezing

Marine Layer Wisdom

2011-08-10T12:11:00.000-07:00

The mailman is more pissed off than usual
The neighbor's dog barks like a broken record
The clunker cars cough poison in my path
The gang bangers are listless and sleepy

It's just a cloudy day
It's just a little rain from the ocean
It's just another Wednesday
It's just the ocean getting airborne

Californians hate rain
even though they need it to grow crops
Californians hate overcast skies
even though a break from the sun is healthy

A grey day in the Los Angeles bee hive
eats away at good intentions like cancer
Decendants of forgotten sun worshippers
race for cable tv and video games again

I shake my head at the absurdity of it all
I laugh as they dash past me at the bus stop
I let the stories write themselves as is best

Life happens and you have to deal with it
You have to deal with it until your body
can no longer deal with it on a daily basis
Then you will merge with the marine layer
and you will then touch the lives of others

Once you touch the fog it never leaves you

Phantom Engineer

2011-08-08T01:16:00.000-07:00

Why is the door to the engine room locked?
Why do we not break it down somehow?
Why is the driver seemingly out of control?
Why did we not notice this beforehand?

Did anyone actually see
someone enter the engine room?
Did anyone catch a glimpse
or do we need a handy scapegoat?

Why do we not jump off at our convenience?
Why
can we
only stand here asking questions?

I think
the phantom engineer
left many stations ago,
if indeed he was ever there at all

No one
wants to admit
that this runaway train
has a mundane destination

We do not leave the train
because to do so is suicide
We create the phantom engineer
because any form of unchecked evil
makes lesser men heroes by default

Puzzled Pieces

2011-08-06T14:47:00.001-07:00

The puzzle has pissed me off again
So many pieces are missing that
I cannot fathom the finished picture

There is no trace of the box
No instructions
In fact, I don't even remember
putting the damn thing on the table

How did it get here?
Was I in a drunken stupor last night?
Was it meant for me to find?
Is the puzzle itself a clue?
But a clue to what?

I pick up the loose pieces in my hand
They instantly crumble into dust
I try to pick up different pieces
These pieces cut my fingers
I bleed
an impossible amount
down onto the table and
into the hole in the middle of it all

How long has the puzzle been here?
How long has my happy ass been here?
Why have certain pieces faded away?
Why are other pieces razor sharp metal?

My fingers finally stopped bleeding
My brain can postulate no further
I take a step back and take it all in
I can now see the entire picture
It is an unfinished portrait
of a man who realizes
that not every mystery
must be solved

...And Your Yellow Tail Shiraz

2011-08-05T00:41:00.000-07:00

How can you even think with a mind like that?
How can you even talk with words like that?
How can you breathe with a face like that?
How can you live with a body bent on hate?

I cannot pour you another glass of wine, madam
For you have finished the bottle,
licked the glass clean,
and swallowed the cork

What is it exactly that you want from me?
What it is about my existence that annoys you?
What can I possibly do to fix your universe?
What can I do to make sure you never return?

I tried being nice
I tried be tactful
I tried to reason with you
I tried to give you options
I tried to let your flack wash over me
I tried to insult your so-called dignity
I tried to deconstruct your cerebellum
But alas,
you cannot see the trees for the paper mill

I cannot pour you another glass of wine, madam
For you have stolen another bottle,
broken it into wet shards,
and bled on the label

Why do you insist upon infecting me so heinously?
Why do you not see me as a flesh and blood person?
Why do you believe money will smooth things over?
Why do you think I will ever endure your tantrums?

I know who you are
Your number and address are on my monitor
I have the write to deny you service henceforth

You will never know me
My essence will never be tainted by your ilk
I exercise my write to erase you after tonight

So fuck you and your Yellow Tail Shiraz, madam
You are nothing more than backwash
in my brown bag after party punchline
and my pallet insists that I expell you

Test Spin

2011-08-04T09:42:00.001-07:00

I eagerly remove the shiny box lid
and stare down at my new face
Looking back up at me is me
Of course it's not really me

I remove my clothes and breathe
and slip into my sleek new skin
Looking through new eyes at last
Of course it's still me inside

I gaze upon young hands
No wrinkles
No sunspots
No callouses
No scars
No yellowed fingernails
No annoying knuckle hair
Yet the muscle memory remains

I put my clothes back on and
then race to the bathroom to see
Looking at my stunning reflection
Of course it's still me inside

Only now I feel amped up, alive
I feel full of boundless potential
This new me is the best one yet
This new me puts old me to shame
This new me is everything I'm not
and more
so very much more

I make phone calls
and my voice sounds so lively
I pick up my mail
and everyone smiles at me
I go to the store
and the cashier discounts my purchase
I go to work
and I am promoted five minutes later

But my wife leaves me
But my kids disown me
But my friends stop calling
But my co-workers shun me

Turns out they miss the old me
The unassuming me
The bookworm
The curmudgeon
The snarky critic of society
The wary man of the people
They cannot relate to uber me

After a drunken bender at the bar,
I race home and rip off the new skin
I tear it into pieces and toss them
into the fireplace and piss on the box

How long did I think it would last?
How much had I despised myself?
How much self-loathing built up
before I wanted to erase myself?
How did I ever let it come to this?

I walked into the bathroom and
set the bottle of whiskey on the sink
Looking back at me was me at last
Of course I have always been me

"Happy birthday, old timer," I said
and took another swig from the bottle
"Everyone deserves a fresh lease.
You don't turn thirty-five every day."

Sifting for Lullabies

2011-08-02T17:01:00.000-07:00

Everyone is fast asleep, even the dog
Stray cars sputter past the open window
A soothing breeze flutters the curtains
I am relaxed
I am inspired
I am coming down from my day

Words fall in line like puzzle pieces
The final picture is still unclear
But the poem seems to write itself
I am not thinking
I am not feeling
I am coming up to chisel away

I am digging down to the core
of these feelings from stressed days
There is honesty buried at the
bottom of this well I have built

Time
--cannot keep me from sifting--
escapes me as my fingers fly about
Thirst
--cannot dissuade my intentions--
cannot keep me from frantic etchings

Is it late or is it early?
Is the sun coming up or sliding away?
It is too late for rationalization
it is too early to admit defeat
The sun is both rising and setting
depending upon your point of view

A lullaby on piano coos in my ear
There is no nearby radio
There is no blaring car stereo
There is only
me
and the soundless melodies that
my mind composes in the night

No Room for Daffodils

2011-08-02T00:42:00.000-07:00

I am over-stocked on crazy
That's right; I said it
I am a crazy motherfucker
So crazy that I communicate
the best in the dark to a
completely indifferent laptop
So crazy that I can no longer
save the drama for my mama
So crazy that I'm not so sure
that I was ever sane at all

There is no room for daffodils
in my full cup of honesty prose
How can I write about flowers
when the national debit is a
number no one can comprehend?
How can I write about flowers
when love comes and goes with
the ebbing of the tide off PCH?
How can I write about flowers
when you are asleep feet away
yet I feel lost in the wilderness?

I need a going out of crazy sale
That's right; I said it
I am selling off all of my crazy
I don't want to be the lone wolf
howling at the moon on weekends
when the blood pounds in my ears
I don't want to be the lone wolf
digging through garbage cans
when my stomach is restless
I don't want to be the lone wolf
when the blood lust takes hold
and I lash out over a vast sea
of future righteousness to maim
all that is innocent and beauty

I have no room inside for regrets
But one day the sun will shine
down upon my endless fields
of trampled daffodils

Rowboat Hopscotch

2011-08-01T07:39:00.000-07:00

Abigail desperately wanted to win the race
The race from the shore to the island
in the middle of the lake

She had a full step before she heard "on three"
She ran with her heart pounding in her ears
towards the boat docks

Throwing caution to the wind,
she lunged into the nearest rowboat
and badly bruised her knee

Not to be deterred,
she lunged into the next rowboat
and scraped her forehead

This only fueled her fire,
she lunged into the next rowboat
and earned a gash down her arm

With luck on her side,
she lunged into the final rowboat
and ripped her already soaked dress

The boat eventually drifted all
the way to her island destination

Upon landing, her friends were aghast
at the site of Abigail's battered frame

She couldn't help but notice that
none of them were wet or out of breath

She spit out a mouthful of blood and
gazed to the left side of the island

"Oh, hey. Is that bridge new?"

H.A.F. with a Devon Rex

2011-08-01T06:44:00.001-07:00

You knew I was just a delivery driver
but you let me right in, didn't you, girl?
You knew that I saw you were fine
Girl, you were hot as fuck to the max

But I didn't know you had a Devon Rex
Girl, that cat is out of this world rad
I want
to worship
at his peculiar paws this instant

Yeah, I see you there in that bikini
You look more delicious by the minute
You could seduce a snake charmer
So close to being on like Donkey Kong

But I can't get over that Devon Rex
Girl, that cat is so rare and so cool
I need
to listen to
his kitty-cat mind control for clues

While your body is celestial
that cat looks extra-terrestrial
Can I take him off your hands tonight?
Please listen to reasoning
I'll toss in free seasoning
on a second pie to make the deal right

Listen, we're not going to have sex
so ditch the wine and get dressed
I'll give you the keys to my Pinto,
my iPhone and snazzy work vest

What do you mean "get out"?
That cat and I have a connection
You don't appreciate him at all
What do you mean "called 911"?

Girl, I know you're a sensitive woman
So you can understand when I say:
This is a knife
I'm taking this cat with me
I'm leaving you four whole pizzas
and the contents of my wallet
Wait, let me grab my ID first

OWE!

Your goddamn cat just bit me!
He's evil. You keep him!

On second thought, I hate cats
Are you free on Saturday night?
I'd like
to worship
at your temple of inane hotness

Zombie Girl on 3rd Street

2011-07-31T12:17:00.001-07:00

It was love at first sight,
me and the zombie girl
who scavenged on 3rd street
Some saw a monster and fled
Some saw nothing and became
her unwitting mid-day snack
I saw only love
A pure love like a puppy
given as a Christmas present
Make that a Halloween present

Her ID bracelet named her as
Rachel Andrews of Granada Hills
Was it her ID bracelet?
I didn't care
I was oblivious
I was in zombie love

It was a glorious courtship
I would bring her ground beef
She would moan "thank you"
At least I think it was "thank you"
Come to think of it,
all of her responses sounded alike
Then again, she was a Valley girl

She was frightened of leaving 3rd street
of her reflection
of staircases
of fire
Typical Santa Monica chick;
lives minutes from the beach,
won't go near the water

Our love eventually soured
First, her rotten arm fell off
Then she entered a biting phase
Finally, she regressed to baby talk
and eating every bug in her path
My beef wasn't good enough anymore
She wanted tasty newborns
She pined to stalk the Palisades

"Who do you think we are?"
I bellowed, "movie producers?"
She only moaned
"Do you even love me, Rachel?"
She only moaned
"Is there a future for us?"
She moaned loudly
and then
her jaw
fell off

Her point had been made
We were beyond communication
She slowly hobbled away

I took her arm as a memento
The middle finger jutted out
No better metaphor could ever be
found to describe our relationship

Touche, Rachel Andrews, I thought
A zombie goodbye is truly final

Chords of Inquiry

2011-07-26T15:30:00.000-07:00

The harmonics are non-existent
The strings are completely rusted
But still,
I have questions

If D minor is the saddest chord
then it must've fallen from a G
If A7 is the middle of the road
then it can cozy up to an E

I'm not sure if this is a proper song
I'm not sure if I'm reaching you
I'm positive it's a game changer
I'm certain to maintain the tone

The notes are unobtainable
The bridge needs more action
But still,
I have questions

I strum an F#7(add 11) again and
then slide on down to a full E
An A to a Dsus4 to a G to an E
as if I were running fingers through
your hair in the fluttering moonlight

I strum
I pluck
I power slide
I instantly regret power sliding on carpet

This is not an inquisition
This is not a sacred quest
This is not what your mother promised
She lied to you, my darling
Because young girls are naive
You will believe anything handed down
containing happy endings and stability

I swing
I strike out
I power dive
I regret diving with only water inside me

I don't have a fucking magic wand
I don't have a map to fortune and glory
I don't have a pocket book to shelter you
and now
I don't have you to meet me halfway
and so I roam familiar beaches
like a random stranger
losing myself
with the tide

There are no new chords to be discovered
Answers only lead to more questions
I strum endless progressions
on the shore
of the lake
that has swelled up between us

Fill in the Blank Blues

2011-07-26T01:20:00.001-07:00

I am all over the fucking map tonight
I can't seem to focus
I can't seem to grasp the wheel
Better yet,
I can't even grasp the round concept

There is something missing in my mind
I feel like I'm fixing holes before they're
even made in the path lying before me
There is mind missing in my something

I am all over the sidewalk in deep thought
I can't walk straight
I can't seem to smooth my gait
Better yet,
I can't even feel my feet throbbing

I see the signs
pushing and pulling
pulling and pushing
None of them sweetly cooing
All of them demanding attention
I see the signs
They do not see me

I've got a feeling of carrying a void
As if a black hole wedged in my pocket
but to take it out would reveal nothing
I've got a void of carrying feelings

The fucking map is all over me tonight
It has focused on me
Wheels grasp and slip, it seems
Better yet,
Blanks cannot be filled while in motion

From a Tendon to a Heel

2011-07-21T13:43:00.000-07:00

Like a jackass I sprinted through the night
Like a jack rabbit I was startled by a noise
Unlike the rabbit,
I was startled by noises from within me
Noises concerning mental indigestion
Noises concerning ruptured promises
Noises concerning moral implications

I made it home
in one piece
but never quite at peace
with the idea of home
or the fact that is was my own making

The next morning, my Achilles weakness
was tightly taunting at me as if Greek
treachery had overcome me in the night
The following week, I paid daily homage
to the Gods of heels the entire world over
in the hopes of lengthening my shortcomings

I made amends
in solitude
with the ones I had wronged
but never made contact
with the me that had inflicted all the pain

Like a torch-bearer, I watched the shoreline
Like a torch, I was snuffed out by the breeze
Unlike the torch,
I was snuffed out by winds within my mind
Winds concerning pressuring changes
Winds concerning an ever-present past
Winds concerning a season of heartache

I left in the night
not cowering
but stalking cowardice
with the idea of home
stretching like a tendon to cover a heel

The Long and Short of It

2011-07-16T21:24:00.000-07:00

Congratulations, my friend!
Yeah, I'm talking directly to you
You have now opened me up wide
Why don't you finish what you start,
you weekend hit and run reader
Browsing without intent to buy!
So put down the check stand fluff
and read into me to pass the time
Aw, come on...
I'm fun and I say "fuck" like I mean it

Open me up like a dog-eared paperback
Inside you will find all that I ever was
I don't let just anybody in here, you know
These scribbled pages are uber sacred

In the attic of my youth, you will find trinkets
Baseball cards, pre-steroid era
Action figures, post-sandbox battles
Homemade comedy tapes of sugar-rush genius
Admittedly, I have grown, but never fully up

At some point, I traded toys for tools
and dreams for favors and paychecks

In the blink of an eye, kids went from
using nubby crayons to using scalpels
From warm tools of pure expression
to cold tools of cutting and maiming

I try to avoid sharp objects all costs

Welcome to my attempts at honesty
Each poem I write is another layer
to the onion that makes up my stew
I'm always looking for more seasoning

I like you
Yet I know we may never meet

I understand you
Yet I haven't heard you speak

We are the same
Yet I am merely words on a page

Whoever said that you can't judge
a book by it's cover clearly knew
nothing about 21st century marketing
I only have so little time to
tempt you
tease you
please you
appease you
and if it's Saturday night, sleaze you

First impressions are irrevocable
Read these words very carefully:
Do whatever you want with this book
Rate it
Read it
Bleed it
Find a hungry mongrel and feed it
and if it's Saturday night, weed it

I'm giving you absolute free reign
Feel free to tear out favorite verses
Feel free to use me to wipe your tears
Feel free to quote my words aloud
Feel free to dismiss me when I slip
into cliches and outlive my usefulness

Of all the categories of books, however,
I am not a how-to survive life guide
I am not your mother or your father
but I have wisdom that I can impart:

First, find a woman who tolerates you
Next, mold her into a sparring partner
Lastly,
under no circumstances
never, ever
tell her that you even slightly love her

For if you do, former-fluff-reader-friend,
you may just get sucker-punched by bliss

Future Failed Comedian

2011-07-15T13:45:00.000-07:00

Everyone working here lies to each other
We lie about how much we can trust
We lie about how much we tolerate
We lie about how much fun we have
The truth is that we live in fear
of being unemployed
of unpaid bills
of starving

There's nothing funny about desperation

Everyone working here is pretending
We pretend to be always interested
We pretend to have all the answers
We pretend to have similar hobbies
The truth is that we don't care at all
about other people's problems
about mood swings
about being tired

There's nothing funny about indifference

Everyone working here is lonely
We try to be the life of the party
We try to join the popular clique
We try to join inane conversations
The truth is that we are drifting
through endless day jobs
through rough patches
through small towns

There's nothing funny about a comedian
who thinks that people are infallible,
but I will succeed as a failure

Control, Alt, Delete

2011-07-13T21:04:00.001-07:00

"I should have known better"
is the broken record mantra
playing incessantly in my mind
Was I a fool for you?
Yes
Was I a fool for love?
Always
Was it the Eastern European
charm that finally did me in?
Most likely

"I should have known better"
I think as I watched you leave
the apartment for the last time
What took me so long?
Weakness
What was your game plan?
Stability
Was it my lack of proper foresight
that lead me to this destination?
I am spontaneous to a fault

In hindsight, I should have ignored
your pleas, coos, and vapid ploys
I want to control, alt, delete this
day as if it never happened
As if we never happened
As if erasing the day we met
could somehow keep you from
hurting me all these years later

Control is something I never had over you
Alt as in our alternative to love relationship
Delete the image of a Russian sex kitten
The day isn't memorable, the day we met
In fact our time together is a nauseous blur

I
just
want to
purge my soul
of the desires I felt
in order to take in more of the love
that has flooded my life in your wake

I cannot abandon the life we created
But I can deny you access to my love
I can keep from you the one thing
which you never wanted initially but
now cling to in isolated desperation:

I can never delete you from my past
but I will never live in your future

Alcatraz

2011-07-11T02:18:00.000-07:00

Before tourism
Before merchandising
Alcatraz was haunted by
living human beings
Convicts, yes
Loss of conviction, no
Old men cry over lost youth
Young men cry over wounds
Some are innocent, they say
All have guilty consciences
Surrounded by freezing water
Guns and batons at the ready
Escape is possible
If the sharks don't get you,
the hypothermia certainly will
Fall in line, fish
Fall from your pedestal
Fall down and dirty yourself
Only the unclean mind survives
You will never leave this cell
We will make it our business
that you never make it back
to whatever humanity that
you think is owed to you
Alcatraz is haunted
by tourism
by merchandising
But under the din of commerce,
whispers of broken spirits
plot to get even

Moon Tans Are In This Year

2011-07-08T01:37:00.000-07:00

My leathery neighbor is suntanning again
She lathers herself up, puts on shades,
grabs a cooler of near beer and lays out
I can hear her peeling out of her chair
every time she sprints to use the bathroom

Alligator skin

Raccoon eyes

Sizzling bacon smell

with a hint of stale cocoa butter

I have no idea how old she really is

She's told me fifty-five and forty-seven

She looks at least seventy

On a good day

In a raincoat

What is this quest for the perfect tan?

What drives people to damage skin?

Don't people have enough to worry about

without the threat of skin cancer?

I am a paper-white dude of Dutch decent

I am confident with my appearance but

not enough to unleash the whiteness upon

an unsuspecting populace without warning

Still,

at some point I will be retired and bored

When plastic surgery is unaffordable and

liposuction and joint replacements are all

I have to look forward to every weekend,

will I--

should I--

could I--

tolerate a few hours of mindless sun worship?

Time will tell as it always does

Until then, the moon will be my mistress

For she is more even-tempered

With far fewer after effects

And love will never fizzle out

in the enveloping darkness

Submerged

2011-07-04T15:28:00.000-07:00

Down
Down
Down
Over and under
Waves lapping at my feat
Waves lapping at my hair
Waves
Below where my despair
is locked away in a treasure chest
that resides in a plastic castle
of makeshift self-defense mortar
There is more
of me
that is visible above the surface
I cannot let you in
I cannot let you see
I cannot let you know
I cannot untie the knots in my tale
I shy away from the sunshine
I shine away from the moonlight
I shove down emotional impulses
until all is shut down and calm
This ocean is vast and wild
If I let the light out unfiltered
it will burn you
badly
without reason
because
inner light
cannot be tamed by mere water

La La Land is the Password

2011-06-28T01:33:00.000-07:00

Hollywood is little more than a glitzy tourist trap
Angelinos know the movies are made in Burbank
Or Vancouver
Or Sydney
Or anywhere where the dollar is more elastic

Hollywood has become an excuse to act the fool
Angelinos know that trust fund kids don't work
Or go to public schools
Or go to county jail
Or need skills to pay for their unearned lifestyle

Hollywood used to be where the stars shined
Angelinos know that you can't see shit in smog
Or feel a cool breeze
Or feel remotely healthy
Or stay sane on the inane MTA daily bus grind

Hollywood is where fantasy is sold in dime bags
Angelinos know that the easiest scores are there
Or new gangsta wannabes
Or new cars to be stolen
Or fresh innocence to be taken advantage of

La La Land is the password to rich entitlement
Hollyweird is the all-night tweaker playground
Postcards designed by pre-adolescent minions
Holly wouldn't ever seek out such a place
if the sellers of dreams didn't make it
so damn easy
to get lost
in the lie

FlorAssence

2011-06-27T15:33:00.000-07:00

Florescent lights seize certain people
In the blink of an eye, they flip an
invisible on switch inside themselves
Something about florescent lights
turns many people into assholes

Don't say you haven't seen it
Don't say you don't believe me

You may be reading this under
hard florescent floodlights right now
You may be suffering from FlorAssence
and have no idea about your symptoms

Are you experiencing the following:

A) A desire to complain to strangers
B) Constantly swearing at children
C) Using the phrases:
"Are you kidding me?"
"You can't be serious?"
"How hard is your job?"
"You speak English, right?"
"Shut and give me my money."
D) All of the above and overly-caffeinated

Please, make your visits to these
establishments as short as possible
You have a disease
It is easily treatable
There is hope for you
There is one simple cure:

Everyone will now completely ignore you

Moonburst

2011-06-24T13:55:00.000-07:00

The old man knew he had me cornered
"Experience outweighs enthusiasm,"
he whispered and produced a knife

Clouds parted and the moon burst into
the room like a temporary daylight
and the fiend was blinded and I fled

There was no sanctuary to be found
There was no secret path in the darkness
I had sacrificed
sure footing
for a killing stroke

The very moonlight that saved me
had now betrayed me in my escape

Tidal pools raged inside my innards
Gravity's pull was weighing me down
I had a head start
but
the old man knew just where to find me

I stumbled into Rick's Cafe and felt the
familiar weak breeze from the old fan
I tossed back a whiskey at the bar
I sighed and gazed at the ceiling fan

The gleam of the knife reflected into
the mirror behind the bar
I turned
--too late--
to feel it penetrate my innards
High tide turned red and spilled out
of me
onto
the filthy and indifferent saloon floor

Why is the floor never clean here?
Why can I not feel my twitching legs?
Why am I simultaneously hot and cold?
Why did I not see this ploy coming?

From the floor, I peered up at the old man
From the future, he peered back at me

"I told you not to run," he intoned
"I could not face myself again," I wheezed

I closed my eyes and expired
I opened my eyes looked down at the body
of the young man sprawled out before me

"Young fool," I muttered and ordered
another whiskey to be put on his tab

Clouds parted and the moon burst into
the room like cartoonish atomic fallout
and I was forced to follow the kid as he
foolishly continued the chase ad nauseum

I climbed off the bar stool to see the kid,
only he was much more self-assured now
In fact,
he
was
me to the last wrinkle of the last quark

"Experience collapses under the weight
of pride and arrogance," he seethed

The knife plunged into my stomach
There was no sanctuary to be found
There was no neon-lit exit waiting
I had sacrificed
a killing stroke
to sorely taste my foot in my mouth

Thus the dance to defeat myself as
my enemy would continue forever
I am the past
I am the future
These combatants despise each other
So it must be to live in a present tense

Shine Within Without Heat

2011-06-23T18:32:00.000-07:00

There is a light in the attic
I have never seen its origin
I think it's like opening doors
Or
more
specifically,
opening the fridge and
trying to catch the light inside

There is a light in my phone
I am confident it is always on
I think it's like opening windows
Or
more
to the point,
opening my mind's eye and
trying to navigate the fireflies

There is a light on my shoulder
I get annoyed when it burns me
I think it's like opening to failure
Or
more
succinctly,
opening up life's comedic scenes
and trying to avoid punch lines

Bleached

2011-06-21T18:23:00.000-07:00

We poured extra bleach into the washer
We shoved the bloodied clothes inside
We knew we should have burned them
I
knew
then that I didn't have the will power

When the clothes dried, we put them on
When the clothes were on, we inspected
When the clothes had bleach stains,
I
knew
then that there was no going back again

Something/someone was dead on the side
of the highway outside of San Bernadino
We had to kill him/it
We had to make it look like an accident
We had to do it quickly and in darkness
We only had each other and no time

But now the tattered clothes are a sham
The car will never work/feel the same
The secret's burden is all-encompassing

I look to you repeatedly for solace
Lady Macbeth never smiled so sweetly
with a calculating stare and heartless,
assassin's eyes while cooking fish sticks

The blood is always there
Even when you can't see it
Even after the bleach has dissolved
everything that once was vibrant
alive,
and true

Ellipsis

2011-06-19T02:33:00.000-07:00

I take this to mean
that three periods
are stepping stones,
whereas one period
is just a dead end

Qwerty and all the Letters Left Behind

2011-06-14T11:20:00.000-07:00

I always fall for Qwerty every single time
I get giddy when I see the combination
of letters for me left by someone else

Who put these letters in this unique order?
I resist the urge to mainline into Google
What possessed them to arrange them so?
I resist the urge to second guess myself

Qwerty is there every day waiting for me
What shall we talk about today?
Qwerty lets me fill in the blanks as I go
What puzzle needs solving before lunch?

I feel like
ten thousand elephants
are stampeding through my cerebellum
and the keyboard is the only floodgate exit

I feel like
no one understands why
I rudely tune out of boring conversations
and look for the nearest Qwerty device

Back hunched, eyes forward
Fingers placed on their marks
Left four fingers on the letters A.S.D.F.
Right four fingers on the letters J.K.L;
Is the power charger working?
The starter's gun fires in my mind
and I'm off, racing around, imagining
whatever the day brings in my window

Some letters will be left behind
Some letters will be completely ignored
Some letters still need to be invented
Some letters are like comfort food
Like Linus's blanket, I reach for them,
dragging them along every [adjective] day

Eric & Brenda - "Sleep is Sexy"

2011-06-10T14:16:00.000-07:00

Captain OCD to the Rescue

2011-06-05T11:31:00.001-07:00

Whenever there is a hallway light left on
Whenever kitchen cabinet doors are ajar
Whenever stray cups collect dried coffee
Whenever unused electronics are left on
Whenever snack food has been discarded
I will find myself in motion to swoop in

If I saunter behind you into your home
and begin to do these things, forgive me
I am by no means a neat freak
It's a tick
It's gotta be a tick
I hope it's a tick for humanity's sake

I don't wear a skin-tight superhero costume
I don't have a snazzy Danny Elfman theme
I don't have a sidekick or a front kick either
No built-to-order vigilante death cruiser
No hidden abode under a hillside mansion
No hard on to fight freaks weirder than me

Yes, I have the habit of following and tweaking
No, I hardly do the same in my own apartment
Yes, I can see how this may be annoying
No, there is nothing to be done about it

I know I have this issue and try to live with it
I know now that it is real and not imagined
Friends and loved ones have tested my mettle
They have left things askew on purpose,
only to watch me go to work, free of charge

Make it stop!
Make me cool with peoples' indifference
Make my mind stop running to stand still

I will now answer three obvious questions
1. No, I do laundry maybe every two weeks
2. No, I vacuum maybe every three months
3. No, I clean my apartment every six months

From my perch on your living room couch,
I can see many, many things out of order
I spy a light left on above the stove
I spy three cups forgotten on the coffee table
I spy devices on but no currently in use
I spy candy wrappers begging for ants

Don't worry about me, I'm sitting on my hands

Platypus Diatribe

2011-06-02T15:53:00.000-07:00

Take a picture, what do I care?
You are too easily impressed
Go ahead and do the list
Every single person does

List my body parts:

Duck-billed,
entirely furry,
beaver-tailed,
otter-footed
egg-laying,
venomous,
semi-aquatic
mamal

There, feel better now?
Thanks for waking me up
I needed to piss on your tent
and scrape venom on your foot

By the way, it's rude to stare

Red Dust in the Wine

2011-06-01T15:01:00.001-07:00

Earth calling Mars, Earth calling Mars
Will you accept the charges?
Do I have any choice?
Will you accept the charges?
Patch it through

This is Earth, when are you coming back?
I have no return plans at this time
We are proud of you but we miss you
You weren't sad to see me leave orbit
Yes, but now you're a somebody here
Well, I'm a nobody here and it's f'n rad
What are you doing up there all alone?

I am not alone
I wake up with the planets in my horizon
I sweep stardust from my porch at night
I have my own wine label called Red Sonya
(as if a chick with a sword could cut it here)
I write poems about my hills and valleys
(as if anyone could possibly relate to them)
I decorate my habitat with ancient fossils
(as if anyone would be impressed with them)
I sing love songs to millenia-dead women
(as if anyone comprehends their beauty)

I am not alone
I have my memories of what I did on Earth
and what Earth did to make me this way

Living with the weight of snowballing burdens

Dying from killing secrets on whispering winds
But I do miss loving and being loved in return
It reminds me of tranquil oceans, endless fields

(and on a less Hallmark-card-bullshit-level:)
Half-assed tree house scrapes and bruises
Late night drive-in B-movie drinkfests
Naked summer beach bonfire shindigs
Sex marathons, pain, laughter, and loss
It reminds me that I cannot endure life
I cannot relive someone else's life over
These are not my memories I reference
These are implants that were injected
Injected while I slept on my journey
A journey that became a guilt trip

I am never alone
I know you don't understand, dying Earth
But if you have seen what I have seen,
then you would stop asking rhetoricals
In fact, you would join me in isolation

Transmission terminated
Peace and quiet without interference
I have all the time in the world now
I am running out of disposable memory
I must pass on all that I have learned
Am I so soon an afterthought?
Mars calling Earth
Mars calling
Mars

Tattoo Revolt

2011-05-31T18:16:00.001-07:00

After an all night drinking marathon,
tattoos all over town finally revolted
Tired of be covered up
Tired of being surgically altered
Tired of being removed once boisterous
youth fades into self-conscious adulthood

All of the tattoos leaped out of their skins
They snuck out into the inviting night
They ended up at Moe's Tavern because
drawings stick with what they know
Moe poured them all stiff drinks
He made a toast to free-form drawing
He psycho-analyzed them with ink blots

After an all night drinking marathon,
the tattoos plotted revenge on the humans
They would attach themselves to different people
They would try fresh bodies on for size
They would choose the human instead
of being subjugated to mere chance

In the pre-dawn of a hazy fifth of July,
independent tattoos collectively took control
Dragon tattoos claimed little old ladies
Skull tattoos claimed the entire priesthood
Tramp stamps landed on the faces of CEOs
and everyone screamed into their mirrors

All of the tattoos were horribly despised
All were covered up
Most were scraped with knives
Some incited surgical appointments
at the nearest hospital or vet's office

The tattoos had to set things straight
Eye-patch Tinkerbell cast a sleeping spell
They teleported back to their rightful owners
They were now comfortable in their own skin
The humans never discussed the debacle
They were drunk when they were inked and
the tattoos were inked when they were drawn

McLaughlin Mysteries

2011-05-28T14:34:00.000-07:00

1. Why does my room smell like lingering farts?
I haven't been home for three days.
It couldn't have been me.
Did something die in here?
Maybe my roommate left me a present.

2. Why is the trash in the kitchen always full?
I never see anyone eat during the day time.
Hardly any food is saved for leftovers.
Have the elves worked up an appetite?
Maybe my roommate has a tapeworm.

3. Why is there always beer but no Internet?
I have to lug my laptop to the library daily.
For all the beer, I never get offered a can.
Is beer more exciting than being connected?
Maybe my roommate is eager to be irritable.

4. Why do I have to be the crazy person mediator?
I guess common sense is pretty rare.
Perhaps being oppressively positive is grating.
Am I a good listener or do I just fake it well?
Maybe my roommate just needs more friends.

5. Why do I have to explain that writing is my day job?
Surfing the web is a treat after penning a few chapters
I guess lifting more than words is an honest living
The process of pending money is a frightening one
Maybe my roommate doesn't want to be solved

San Cristobal Alley

2011-05-27T14:33:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my makeshift Galapagos Island
I have renamed this long alley Main Street
Step off the boat/car onto San Cristobal
I have a glass of fresh iced tea waiting
I have sunblock and snacks ready
I have six bottles of wine handy
Mind the turtles and iguanas
Mind the roaring bonfire
Never mind the time
Rent has been paid
Food is prepared
Rest comfortably
in this shaded,
hammock
cradle of
my words,
my love

I Left My Dignity in Aisle 5

2011-05-25T13:31:00.000-07:00

1.

Pay attention, Eric
It is important to distinguish between
different brand names in the store
This...is Alpo
This...is Pedigree
This...is Meaty Bone

Pardon me, but I have shopped before

2.

Pay attention, Eric
It is important to know your duties
and how to safely navigate in the store
This...is a basket
This...is a shopping cart
This...is the time clock

Pardon me, but I have two eyes in my head

3.

Pay attention, Eric
It is important not to overstep your bounds
and how to work in harmony while in the store
This...is a team effort
This...is a tight ship
This...is the department division

Pardon me, but I was just trying to keep busy

4.

Pay attention, Eric
It is important not to daydream or philosophize
and how to assimilate into the drone collective
This...is called a recession
This...is all we have to offer you
This...is a brick wall instead of a glass ceiling

Pardon me, but I left my dignity in aisle five

But Eric, our store only has four aisles

Zen Anarchist

2011-05-24T13:34:00.000-07:00

Two sides of my Id threaten to rip me apart daily
I want to save the world and give it renewed hope,
yet I want to mow down all those who annoy me
I want to rid the planet of all deadly diseases,
yet I want to backhand all those who betray me

The unending shames of life in uncertain times often
inspires and/or informs the artistic outlets I love
and for every answer, more questions materialize

How do I destroy and leave love behind in my wake?
How do I kill and then plant seeds so life will go on?
How do I learn new ideas and cast aside cliches?
How do I dispense with hate when it gets the job done?
How do I travel without polluting the very air?
How do I love without maiming innocence forever?
How do I open myself up to life without caving in?
How do I practice patience in the midst of my fury?
How do I not question everything, everywhere?

The ocean is a calming canvas with no visible ending
upon which I may hurl my inner demons without fear
of jaded criticism and unwanted rancor or doubts

Just below the surface is an itch beyond scratching
I try to ignore desires, regrets, and the fist-heart and
all the burdens that come from being born to die

Two sides must make a whole like a Yin and Yang
I want to save the world from pop culture vultures,
yet I am a walking, quoting, singing American billboard
I want to rid the world of all false pretenses in art,
yet all soul-bearing is pretentious to future eyes