Dry Socket

You froze me in your ocean of discontent
content with spraying negative excess
on my face and pavement
heartache splayed
in all directions
such a glorious hard-on
for unhappy thoughts
such bliss in pulling
others down into
your poison pit
you spit shit
and all kinds of nonsense
toilet soul
all broken pipes
and leaking acid

I will have nothing to do
with you
it’s true

you think you’re sharp
but I will have nothing to do
with your icicle eyes
dry socket
you’ve nothing left to say


Bang bang cataclysmic drain
got change on the brain
but no boat ever goes to sea and comes back un-crabbed
unchain these hinges of inhibition
modify modus operandi
life’s great mystery
why we do things we do and wish away the things we don’t
it’s all so wont and wanton like letting go at luncheon
or company function
screaming obscenities in the most serene of places
children’s faces pallid
why did we ever come here – to be free? Laughter is free
So are trees swaying in one spot watching us
like an uninteresting peep show shedding leaves
instead of dollar bills
such a respectable profession
concessions and confessions through a two-way mirror
cracked with fatigue and dagger thoughts
can’t control these jagged thoughts and wants
I’ll take a shot of proclivity any day of the week
and chase it with cold mountain air as I stare
through those eyes across the room of some dimly lit dive downtown
Who are we to smudge away one’s individual grease marks and warpaint
remove nail polish gender neutered for public reception
tossing fossilized spirits in trash receptacle
burn after treading water drowning in unanswered artful dodges
so skilled the sword to saunter off our ears and eyes but leaving flicking tongue unscathed.

Sometimes we get used to burnt toast and no butter
and dribbled splattered toilet seats left up or down
oh what’s your preference what’s your poison what’s your ilk
we traded perfect wings for impersonal perfection
infectious waste disease and death
how we forget and how we remember to purposefully forget
and push away those old picture frames on dusty altar
we falter yes but we also find a way to fill our great balloon
with hot air and rise above beyond occasion and horizon
one day this rollercoaster car will fly right off the fuckin tracks and pierce clouds
like awkward bullets and shoot through ozone and ether and planetary lapses of reason
but who holds the gun who holds the key to cabinet locked away inside
that pretty gray brain matter.

Leave me to these thoughts and I’ll leave you to your robotic nuances
looking for a new power source frack the sacred burial grounds
in pursuit of longevity
it’s all about the size isn’t it who has the biggest dipstick straw
to steal the show milkshakes and earthquakes surviving on the rim
of civilization with no climbing gear
relax you can’t fall off this mountain
all is so uncertain but please just bear with me while I figure
out the wiring and find some AAA batteries
coppertop copperhead copper dollars copper teeth
lithium lifestyle enhanced by sedatives
choking on vulgarities from some old sailor’s spit
spiced rum infused visions of Cthulhu
I have seen him yes I have.

steady my stream

sometimes mind
vibrates harmonious
other times so
a moistened towelette
mopping up rejected
verbs at multiplex

exhausted from keep
on keepin on
sometimes this ride
needs stick in
bicycle spokes
to change up revolution
need more able bodies
to hold up mastered minds
wasted cells regenerate
memory’s munitions
blast me to a perfect

snorting sunshine
through a rolled up
play dollar bill
rocked backed to
the present with
nose dripping blood
on tablet screen

we all scream for
I take moderation
in moderation
you only live once
that’s what they say
before reborn
tabula rasa

new diapers to dirty
but hey not everything
is ugly like mouthful
of pink birthday cake
chewed up and spit back out

try to have a little fun
lighten up put down
the lighter fluid
burning charred marks of
gloom and doom
try a different brush
stroke that capsized boat
do something about that negative
shock like a joker’s handshake

put back the pin
in self’s grenade
I hereby state
no desire to
copy & paste my fate

Posted for dVerse Poetry Pub’s Stream of Consciousness meeting the bar poetry prompt, hosted by Victoria C. Slotto.

Bohemian Chili Stands

fell adrift watching sideways clock
eyes know more than hands do
fell succinct while waiting on man
grasping for ball peen wisdom

ignoring subtleties
and most mismatched winter errands
choosing to unglue shoddy binding
haphazard lifeless job they did

wide awake
smoking sleepy time tea
anxiety stole my best ideas
came in here with a wrecking ball
and diminished my shortcomings
and long-term ideas
but John Lennon always said that would happen
or maybe it was the Boss
I don’t really remember

it’s blue collar clip-on tie day
it’s my belly is too big for my coffee stained starched white shirt day
it’s find one goddamn pair of matching socks without a hole day
it’s marry your regrets day
it’s got a lot of gold to find day
it’s polishing turds day
it’s snap crackle anathema day
it’s I wish this cheap-ass checkerboard weren’t so warped day
it’s my pieces keep falling off the edge and
can’t stand straight day
it’s a lonely hyacinth growing through a crack
in the sidewalk in frozen February day

dreams are weird WTF do they mean
sleeping in cheap hotels pretending to be
people we are not
high on pot
and who is this narc keeps following me

wake up, shit, shower but I refuse
to shave
I’m trying to grow a decent beard here
what do you think
perhaps I should shave off my eyebrows like that Floyd fellow
or maybe a nipple for good measure
have a swim in the pool
cool off electric flag
bohemian chili stands on side of dirt roads

where is my best friend
we did not hand-in-hand pass through
the pearly gates of careerism
of successes
we chose different paths

and where is the champagne
and where are the flashbulbs
and where are the fast cars
names of which I can’t begin to pronounce
I have the pronouns and that is what really matters

and the birds are all sleeping while
the worms are still frozen
see you in another dimestore curiosity
pawned my self-doubt and hatred for a Stratocaster