Andrea
Andrea . . .
Your hair tied perfect
The rain offsets you
But green!
On long bitter rock
I drive alone
After stalling for you
and pretending again
Far atop a fleeting star
You tiptoe ‘side a busy bar
Not tiptoe but dance
In a trance I saw
Andrea . . .
bad poetry
Surrounded by barriers that I can’t breach.
Pretending nothing is out of reach.
Clawing at darkness but getting bleak
Bad Poetry, by me.
Like pearls in the sky struggling
Her jet black hair something shining
Speaking in ancient prophesy
Bad Poetry, has become me.
exactly.
See! I say to myself,
this is what you are.
What happens when you peer inside
and don’t like what you see?
Gone Going Solo
Day dimming grayness sped speeding car
How I wonder what you are
Road containing hole gone going solo
A friend, a country, a lover
Depression is Coming
Depression is coming.
At least I feel something.
At least it ’s something.
My head is baking.
Depression is coming.
Something is coming.
Holding yourself is great.
But it needs something
Like mutton needs salt.
Henry Fitzpach
Henry Fitzpach
Plagued by apathy
I'm sorry
Don’t fuck with me like that
you miserable prick
With your wide brimmed hat
and black shoe-boots
Perfectly tailored gray shirt
and neck stubble
Your countenance is . . .
What?
No, I’m sorry . . .
I see you now.
to know all languages
My desire is to know all languages
so that when a certain sunset moves me
colors like melted crayons
i can comment on it romantically
in a language of Latin origin
When I smoothly stealthily avoid
undesirable occurrences on the sidewalk
i can congratulate myself in Japanese
sounding gruff yet satisfied
and proud
And when slightly warm and slick red wine
of a rare variety touches my tongue and I swallow
i can softly proclaim in Spanish
and grin
If bright yellow mustard drips onto my pants
i can curse jerkily in Norwegian
and amuse unwitting bystanders
And when we materialize our love
and the moment is perfect
and dramatic
so will be my words
blowing quickly
and quietly
in your ears
Sinkface
Sinkface
Sinkface
he can wash his hands
but he can't get a date.
He's Sinkface.
And his face is a sink.
stifled
stifled
swirled
revealed
enveloped
deeply
slid
slipped
Shall I inspire you
Similarly as you do I?
Intent to contend
But I was not; I…
You were a selfish bastard
As was I
As was I
As was I, my friend
As was I
The Earth Said
The Earth said, “I am water”
And the mighty seas roared
The Earth said, “I am land”
And the pale dirt firmed
The Earth said, “I am air”
And the winds blew in earnest
Man said, “I am man”
And the Earth wept, defeated
Temporarily.
Waiting
Waiting is painful.
On the way home from work I stopped at the taco truck and got an Asada
Burrito.
It was good, but I ate it alone in my apartment.
Where is everyone?
What are they doing tonight that’s so great…so special?
It’s Friday.
Why aren’t I doing anything?
I’m fucking sitting here.
Fuck.
Fuck.
The music isn’t bad, but there’s something lonely about hearing
someone else’s voice who isn’t here…
Who you’ve never met….
Never will ….
So I’ll sit around and drink myself stupid.
I’ll hang posters that’ll be my companions.
Too bad six months later there’s still only one, unframed.
I’ll wait.
you and I
You and I are
Lies lies mental alibis
yeah!
Life would be so much nicer if everbody learned just one thing: When you are talking, you should have a point; A reason for why you are speaking. If you don’t have a point, then do all of us a favor, save us the confusion and shut the fuck up.
This is about me
You’re the best thing that could have happened to me
This is about me
Let me just say I was born on the cusp
and I teeter on a precipice always
a great precipice
and one side is green
the other gray
but both are fine in their own way
and all I want is to reach one
or the other
but I can't
because it is my nature not to
what am I?
what am I supposed to do?
I know what I am good at doing
But I don't know what comes naturally
is it something I can do?
Or am I just this way?
Do I create?
or do I produce
Do I mold?
Or cast?
What I write becomes trite before my eyes
And I only draw in my dreams
My daydreams
not even my real dreams
Is there a block before me?
Something that will dissappear with time?
Perhaps but what bothers me is that I have always been this
way
or at least, for a very long time
In high school, college....
I never produced
I was the antithesis of a prolific artist
I was a slacker
before that, i don't really know
I did more it seemed, when I was a child
those days are far past and foggy now
After that, well, I stopped doing much all together
with Swords raised
Shoulder to shoulder with swords raised
Questions through clenched teeth
How will things be when we face each other again?
brief ode to the nap
oh the rest!
oh the recuperation!
oh the peace!
oh the nap!