Archive for the ‘ Poetry ’ Category

smartphone zombies


A woman reading SMS messages on her mobile pho...

A woman reading SMS messages on her mobile phone while standing on a bike in traffic. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Here is a poem about the real zombies living all around us.

smartphone zombies

farts, moans, zombies
smartphone zombies

buzzing each other
like busy busy bees

step on some crack
and break a junkie’s back

weaving through mall traffic
impervious to life

watch the infection spread
moths’ staggering dance of death

but then how would they suspect?

04.26.20..12
AT(G)P

Revision
04.28.20..12

2012
04/29
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Note to Self #8


Photograph of two Eggo's toaster waffles with ...

Photograph of two Eggo's toaster waffles with maple syrup. Afrikaans: Wafels met esdoringstroop. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

i remember that day now…  pretty trippy…  i had been off my psych meds for 3 months

Note to Self #8

love has no logic but the freedom of expression…
does a book have dreams of taking naps
in a quiet library?
or being adapted/adopted in a book store?

or is an easily suggestible digestive system
good for the solar system?

I love the smell of napalm
on your pancakes or maybe
some nuclear/unclear maple syrup…

but Big Al drew a stinky
and the cyanitrous wouldn’t feel good there
so Anna kindly gave me ten for nine
and rendered unto Ceasar Salad.

As a reconfigured veteran
of the psychic imagination game
i like to go where I can feel the love…

I do love zippers
on marshmallow pants
and sprinkling the bamboo jungle
in my friend’s gardens
cause it smiles back with rainbows!

2012
04/05
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an irregular jesus


Security camera at London (Heathrow) Airport. ...

Security camera at London (Heathrow) Airport. Taken by Adrian Pingstone in August 2004 and released to the public domain. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

an irregular Jesus

an irregular Jesus
who likes to take vacations in the asylum
walks into Ace hardware for some glass cleaner
and gets lost

he finds himself in line with a bottle of pneumonia
when the lady in front of him has her credit declined
and walks away empty handed

he yallers, “Hey! i got a GOLD tooth.”
but she disapppears

he forgets his first miracle for a moment
and the pain in his chest nearly drops him to the floor

he laughs and waves at the security camera
remembering to wander
to the corner to clean a few windows for the Man

2012
04/01
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people that came from nowhere


people that came from nowhere

when you look up at the sky
which stars whisper your name?

there are a people of whom i have heard
that when they look up at the sky
no stars whisper to them

wandering over the skies
they only look down
no stars whisper their names

the fact that time moves at such a pace
that stars will constellate for us
is a miracle in itself

the hunter has been whispering my name
i have a place to go
i think

in the blink of an eye

urr 03.23.20..12

2012
03/25
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hard as a chisel, a fool inside


Saguaro and teddy bear cholla with mountains i...

Saguaro and teddy bear cholla with mountains in background (Photo credit: Martin LaBar)

hard as a chisel, a fool inside

music, memories
being packed away
like yesterday’s news

it’s contrary to my nature

to be so forthcoming

pieces of two lives, more
the hunter marks the trail

twelve to a pack and loaded for bears
wipe away tomorrow’s tears
a sunny spring day to walk on mother earth

an extra thumb in somebody else’s book

lost again for the third or forth time today
led on by the lies the senses tell you

next you’ll be telling me
i’m making all this up
well someone has too

2012
03/21
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Fragment of a Sub(urban) Daydream


12 blue rubbish bins arranged in a circle.

Image via Wikipedia

Fragment of a Sub(URBAN) Daydream

 

Nirvana is a short NAP
in a BROOKlined cemetery…

Meanwhile,
there are memory bank rob(BERRIES) in progress
for the POOR concentration CAMPERS.
Everywhere the CLEAN streets are
lined with litter bins collecting DUST
particles along the BACK
of their Alley Ca(r)t-wheels…

can you spare A. Diamond
For a CUP of laughter in the park
as Shake-The-Speare wiggles a toe in the SAND?

(Definitely)
put the RUBY on Thursday’s pulse
This TIME out
so you can meet at BO(o)TH ends
in the Middle sometimes
If oHIo calls again,

ears prick up your arse in UNI(S)ON
As you SURF the radio WAVES
for pent-up or strangled melodies…

Wait for it! just wait… remember, Milton,
your services have ALREADY been rendered
in your HOLIDAY pants
and SMILING is only your favorite Opt-i(o)n.

2012
03/03
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Playground

Playground (Photo credit: phalinn)

a piece of rubbish i wrote when i first moved to California:

bubonic playground

at the dawn of the beginning
of what never ends,
going ’round, bringing out the dead,
shall we feast upon the corpses
of those we’ve hated and loved?
or laugh and lament over their withering bones?

on the bubonic playground that we share,
don’t shed a tear for oilspills or bloodspills.

let’s all scream our heads together
for the love that’s been spilled
like empty seed on barren ground.

let’s all scream our faces in the mirror
until we melt together
and just for once leave hate and discontent behind.

2012
02/23
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heaven


 

heaven?

mother teresa is pushing
a shopping cart filled with
potatoes and toaster ovens
along the alley ways
of a ghetto on the outskirts
of the shining city

while saddam sits in council
with seven virgins lying naked,
their skin gleaning energy
from the Son,
beside the swimming lagoon
in a sleepy suburb,
gleaming towers in their view.

love radiates from the Center
directed outwards,
the devotion of Love’s children
directs it inwards.

the heart of the city beats
like a drummer’s orgasmic solo,
the rhythm is there
can you feel the beat?

you can’t beat the feel
of the Creator’s will
etched upon the footprints
in the wheelhouse of your mind.

Heaven is but a breath away,
do you dare to draw it in?

2012
02/21
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if i could


Male and female legs

Image via Wikipedia

one of my cheesier poems from the book “Space Christals”

If I Could

if i could stand on my tippy toes
on the edge of my universe to touch

touch

touch
that hollow place inside you where
only you feel alone.

what’s the point?

if i could i would tell you that
it’s alright to feel alone inside your head.
alone inside the vastness you were meant to be.
what’s the point?

so that you could stand on your tippy toes
on the edge of your universe to touch

touch

touch
that hollow place inside me that
only you can fill.

2012
02/18
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Program Wobbly


i was in a mood when i wrote this thinking of shit and computer programming…

Program Wobbly

111 feeling a bit wobbly-wobbly ‘(?)’
112 gotta lay off the hallucinogenic poetry for a while
113 this hell of laughter mirth and merriment is making me dizzy
114 how do you get /off/ this thang ‘(?)’
115 when do you get /off/ ‘(?)’
121 wanna come over and smoke some cigs eat cheese and drink some whiskey til we puke ‘(?)’
122 i m getting me-sick
123 i m getting home-sick
124 i m getting poem-sick
125 somebody call my mama cause i need a new set of snow tires for the minivan
131 BLUE MOON
132 how do y all do this without fist-fucking the computer ‘(?)’
133 my mouse my mouse my mouse is on a wire ‘(!)’
134 for the love of Hitler will you please tell me where the /off/ button is ‘(?)’
135 wipe that shit-eating grin off your face if you re not gonna share ‘(!)’
141 i ve come to a decision
142 i like you ‘(!)’
143 that s why i m going to shut the fuck up ‘(!)’
144 feeling a bit wobbly-wobbly ‘(!)’
145 END

2012
02/16
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