Wednesday, December 10, 2014

311 Would Dig It

My heart hot, my blood cold, my emotions mixed,
I stand on the spot, unformed and transfixed
As a bolt of brilliance rips into the night.
The dark storm and dim slumber are, for the moment, set alight,
Marbling the black and the charcoal gray with white.
It feels wrong to take in, as splendr'ous sight,
Zeus getting in his destruction for today,
But what doesn't get less ugly, far away?

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Nineteen Eighty-Four Fifty One


Don't despair because Romney runs.
Don't secede because Obama wins.
Rage-quit because Re-turd-lickins
or Dummy-craps is heads or tails.
It's like the Downstream Media
and the pissant, putrefying papers
Asked America “Coke or Pepsi?”
and we went to war for the empty can.
We don't have a hound in this race.
We don't have a horse in this fight,
But we keep watching this two-bit,
Three-ring, one-percenter circus
So the politicians can fiddle
While the candle burns at both ends.
They are guilty of nothing less
Than gross negligence
and gross incompetence.
I call for a vote of no confidence
In Senator Puppetine's leadership.

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Why I Don't Write Anymore, Part 1: That's Life in the Big City

"That's life in the big city,"
My grandmother always said.
I never knew what it meant,
Until I learned.
It starts slowly enough,
With a late dinner,
Or turning in early.
Then your job keeps you busy.
Your boss keeps you busy.
You but barely blink your eye
and you can't even remember
The last time you weren't too tired,
and just like that,
Your passion, your pride, your pastime
Has become a cold pantomime,
Slightly more important than your hair,
Slightly less than your taste in pornography,
and you've become the man you thought you hated.

That's life in the big city.

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Love Is Deaf, pt. 2

I will be stunned to disbelief.
I will cry myself to sleep.
I will crave your approval,
and dread your touch.
I will spend mornings
Looking in the mirror
Searching for a flaw,
For what it was you saw
That inspired you to say that,
Searching for my self-esteem,
and I will pretend I didn't hear.

Love Is Deaf

It's the only sound that truly clears my head.
It's the only sound that could ever scare me to death.
It's the sound of unexpressed frustration.
It's my idea of celebration.
It's the final destination
For life's many awkward situations,
Like thinking you're to stupid to notice how I feel
(Like being too smart to open your eyes).

My Personal World, Part 23: The Haunted House In My Head

I don't remember the names, just the notes
That fill my head and my bedroom with ghosts,
Which is neither surprising nor quite the usual.
I'm left wondering if I'm really delusional,
If the chords wore shortcuts down in my head,
Or if I'm just easily (musically) led.
Keep the mix right, watch the ghosts coalesce;
One wrong song, they leave with unwanted gentleness,
Drawing back into the darkness, dancing dirges
To a second-rate soundtrack.

It's Not Reminiscing If You Wouldn't Go Back

I have been a shell of a soul,
a wanting well, a bottomless whirlpool.
I have known the gnawing nothing,
Been a tongueless, toothless vacuum.
I have lived through settle-for-anything,
Lived long enough to give myself this gift:
I have taken in just enough
To be empty, and hungry, but picky.