Poetry / Prose

poetry and prose

Wild and Strange Places

For many moons and moonless nights
I've slept in grand bewilderment
Under trees, in them and void of them
On dried up lake beds with the wind howling as I laid with eyes affixed upon heaven
All starry, tripping and hallucinating demon angels
Then in a tungsten mine with furry critters and friends
And we all laughed to sleep
On an emergency room bed that first time I died spiritually
And that other time sleeping by the Delaware
By creeks, rivers, lakes, ponds and oceans or out at sea
All golden under velvet amber skies

First Snow

Gone like the daffodils of spring
The thin blanket of fresh snow came too soon
The days were still much too warm for it to linger long
I can't say I don't miss it
But I never got to taste it without tasting the bare ground it laid upon
There was a coarseness to it that was no fault of it
Nor was the residual salt of past seasons that expedited its recession
It came and went like summers grace
Quick in a flurry
Then deafening silence

The Existential Nihilist

Without inquiry they will confidently say that there is no distinction between the nihilist and the defeatist comes the moment of truth

That both the defeatist and nihilist will lay down their bodies

And will not only give no objection but will also give credence to why eternal death is preferable

Preferable to the continual struggles of life

Either unwillingly or simply incapable of uncloaking the shroud of ignorance

They will fail to recognize the existentialist, particularly the existential nihilist

Dulled Mundane

Normalcy is unconducive to poetry
I miss the days when I am without a bed
And tired from exhaustion
Or alcohol
Physical pain suits me well
Because I can trust when it's there
I am dulled by the mundane
And any vigor is sapped from me
In traffic, in life and in flight
I am best on a dried up lake bed
With nothing but beer and fungi in my belly
Or with a drink in hand at the far end of the bar
The lone walk or brisk bike ride where I'd barrel roll
Often causing little damage to myself

No Legacy

My little darlings
The world is in a constant state of decay and renewal
But our ever expanding and unquenchable appetite is fast encroaching
And just as great and cursed is our ego and arrogance
And the void that is our apathy
We are doomed by our dispositions

We’ve gone far beyond the point the natural world can recover from
There is no healing it
There is no more recourse

Meager Existence

In the still night, the trees still whisper to me
The stagnant warm air whiskers through the open window
With wine still heavy in my blood
I can feel the ceaseless palpitation of my heart
The veins through my temples are like resonance chambers
Baboom baboom baboom
I’d try my best to sleep the sleepless night away
I’d curse myself for my welcomed peace
I’d curse myself for my sheepish defeat
I am torn between worlds
Between unadulterated nothingness


Chasing an artificial high
A euphoric sensation in the frontal cortex
Insatiable short lived and ever fleeting bliss
A consummant seeker of wisdom
And an unapologetic indulger
Finding the false idol of momentary brilliance
Even for the weary traveler
It always brings a new yet familiar experience

Worthless Hurt

As a child, I’d wish to forget certain things
As I got older, my wish slowly came true
It was such a large part of me that there wasn’t much of me besides it
Now I wish to remember my pains
So that I may profit off of them for a drink or two
Even though drinking doesn’t help with remembering
I had a cheap childhood however and my pains were ordinary
And so I can’t even afford the cheapest drink
And am left with my remembered pains
And words that aren’t worth a dime

Marble Bed

I walked for miles and miles in this jungle of steel and concrete
where the beggars weep
And men with suitcases grossly under tip

Behind cheap sunglasses
I waved off the hordes of crackheads and peddlers
While selectively choosing which pauper gets the change in my pocket

But these eyes aren’t 20/20
And so often enough I involuntarily contribute to a fiend’s addiction

What am I to do?
When cupcakes are $10 a piece
While floods of people walk over the bastard
Laying on the marble slab street
Is asking for pennies

Two Weeks Notice

I turned in my two weeks notice after 2 and a half months. Two more weeks and it'll be a full 3 months as an underpaid salary man. I gave the notice to my manager. He was disappointed. We had a talk. He asked why and I said, "I want to pursue other things, like focusing on creating content or something." He asked if I was unhappy here or what could be better and what would it take for me to stay. I didn't say whether I was happy or not, nor what it would take, but I told him of what I think would improve the business.