Poem: Open Letter to Nowhere

you’re a dirty needle
you make the whole damn haystack feel all feeble
And unheard of you are–
like a colonoscopy at a wedding,
when in between the sheets
I bet that’s how you set the setting

if i were you i’d work at a shooting range
running around as a squeamish target,
sucking bullets like spaghetti
–if i’d beat poets
you wouldn’t live to be a ferlinghetti

now, if i gave your nipple a squeeze
you’d die faster than keats
but i’d be too slow
since you’re already obsolete

here we go to the end of this ode
and it goes just like the legends told
in the beginning you dig yourself a hole
and in the end you realize you ain’t got no soul


Poem: What’s in the blood?!!

Don’t ask or question what’s in the blood
Don’t try to decipher messages from God
or his heavenly legion of angels
that reign magnanimous in sculptures
dressed in pure white slab

For what the mind knows the heart won’t question
So, what’s in the blood?
The blood that is on the streets and carpool lanes
dead like perdition’s roadkill
breathing in living death’s slow damnation

Don’t ask the question –what’s in the blood–
The boss on the seventh floor is a psychic vampire
out to drain the muscles of his working herd
who implore him to answer:

Ball busters

Today I learned that we live in a culture of ball busting. Everybody gets out of bed with the intention of busting at least someone’s nads. It’s as if the more you squeeze the more points are racked up.

It’s beautiful.

Poem: Faire l’amour through apology

O, faire l’amour mein lieben
under the starlit apartment ceiling
I’m hairy naked with your skin so fair
I look at you with hungry eyes
just to realize I am a mess worse than a Kitchen Nightmare
And there is no Gordon Ramsay ballsy enough to fix my mental barriers

So I,

I apologize my construct of a personality
I apologize to my loose erotic inhibitions
I apologize for having a face
I apologize, I apologize

Pain drips off the walls ecstatic
the grief strikes my brain with a hammer
with twice the strength
each second

I apologize some more
it makes me feel powerful
I am erect
I feel like I could kill
I penetrate my apologies
I cum and smear my semen over regret

The room stinks of hate and plague
and I apologize
I apologize,
apology accepted.

Poem: How to take care of a nuisance

Should a man turn
to vulgarity and taboo
on a day of great trial

Be he set at naught
and locked away
to a high distant eyrie
so as to hide him

May he be sent to a hovel
buried by sand
and ogreish winds

And let him rest there
until his boorish nature calms
Adding insult to injury
by telling the man
–sod the fuck off