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

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.

An Aching Head

I cannot be bothered
My head is pounding
I had rum, soju and beer last night
And a plate of watermelon
I smoked a Cuban and a cigarette on the insistence of a friend
It was a menthol cigarette
My head is now in pain
I would promise my first born for it to go away
I would turn down a goddess to leave me be
I teased a kid for sounding like a robot
I told him he wouldn't pass the Turing test
And everything he said was exactly what a human imitating robot would say
He was a good kid with a head on his shoulder

American Scream

Never once did I believe in the American dream
For long I’ve heard the American scream
From even before my conception
From imagery of naked children fleeing from their burning village eviction
To this modern day
Of brown children torn and locked away

Oh, say, can’t you see?
This land is marred with misery
From the red blood of native genocide
With their land now bled white
To the blue, the tunes of a people shipped across the sea
Then held in bondage and slavery