August 18, 2014
Witness: flat tires have transpired;
U-lock and steel wires- cables,
odds and ends, curses,
fixed up again, pole stance.
Como commute now,
she sits near Black window-
steam, heat, and coffee aroma…
running to- somehow.
Girls stand at the bus stop bench
asking, ever simple
questions of schedules
and Joe’s market view edibles.
On! this box with wheels,
Alternatives- let it go.
Running thru humid air
Nalgene splash uneven
Hot breaths, punctual care
Step by step to there.
Flat tires have transpired.
Days described disrepair.
August 3, 2014
First thoughts of morning,
poor vision blues in a book.
Hung on each dark word as the guilty-
grabbing tired mind as it takes me inside.
Scanning each sentence, detecting its mention;
importance of just this, and just that,
I put my head back
on a pillow,
Thoughts of last night stir as my belly aches.
Reading inspired relaxation as I ready the day.
July 23, 2014
At the beach,
this burnt sand desert;
Swimming lake water to avoid the heat,
people lazing on towels,
hiding beer cans
attempt save discrete.
Plants sharp as knives while walking with bare-feet.
At the beach
At the beach
Sex parts covered by diaphanous cloth,
where we sit with wandering thought lost.
discussion minced, quiet commotion-
ride, bipedal, or car from the city to the streets to meet,
at the beach
at the beach.
July 22, 2014
Engaging keys to dance on the screen
a sticky banged-out sort of language,
eyes flicker-flash as they register,
each finely enacted word is painted.
Sentences used decidedly, discrete-
far beyond just average meaning,
right below the incomprehensible
reading brings light day dreaming.
Realism in lines, dots, and white blank space;
page-art, satire even written in haste,
excessive save excite, readers we do invite,
the slashes and dashes become grammar’s delight.
Ah, to scribe
Ah, what for?
Ah, to be a part.
Ah, what more?
Thoughts just come, one by one;
even when lacking to grasp,
some are produced with purpose-
others just come from the ass.
It is easy to complain, but so much harder to compliment.
It is easy to say we make, but so much harder to create content.
July 21, 2014
alerted bolt upright by a sticky sheet situation,
first hours of the day
eggs toast and hot sauce
back pains and skin stuck to the bed.
radio conveying news, noise, whatever…
life has been brought to my attention -social media-
ladies promoting sexism; life venting on things, ironically, whatever…
moving stirring sitting standing
fresh tattoos peel and feel like sunburns,
still drying to some extent.
packing bags, fingering keys, opening doors,
one way to the bathroom for relief
fake leather gloss on my bike seat
read something, anything—Nietzsche.
shower, shit, don’t shave
set- stare in the mirror,
look down to feet
making way, avoiding the cat and debris,
dust filled rooms, draw shades no heat relief.
sink filled with grease,
pressures such as time, hypocrites, saboteurs, hunger, cleanliness–… oh, and NEEDS.
hang about dizzy-clogged head
I should have stayed in bed
I should have stayed in bed.
July 21, 2014
Gatorade and Smokes,
MH-17 and Jokes;
And this concept seems remote.
Just ask CNN my friend.
you know they know, you know.
Just hoping these floaties float.
Peace is always an option,
I think about this as I laze in the sun.
Realize the damage that’s been done
Revelation: Gatorade is for athletes and alcoholics.
Noble Inquiry: How many atheists fight in religious wars?
July 16, 2014
Morning has broken,
Plants, people, and mechanisms are touched by light.
Strange concepts we call life.
Buses roll out onto Dalmatian-potholed streets
as sun hits gazing eyes.
Water beads bejewel, adorning the
perfectly cut blades of
Trash men collect garbage
swishing and slopping repugnant trash.
Commuters traverse out and through; up and down,
This is no winter,
summer months of reprieve;
hot to sweat,
we lay at the beach.
Though always in motion;
The never still late nights,
even if we embody the hard to wake early mornings.
Enticing to the outsider
a spider’s web for those who call it home.
You are here today
Taking it in-
on some corner of some neighborhood
in some way.
Morning has broken.
July 9, 2014
on pretty flesh;
a meaningful, forever, sentiment- lined sketch.
For life, for death,
a canvass to test,
bold bright colors; judgment: pretense.
Now art, now unique, now taut puffed; hurt when pressed.
Self-inflicted wounds to heal,
paying for this pain,
stories etched on the surface;
Now, what do yours mean? …
Everyone is jumping off of that bridge,
So I packed a parachute and lit a smoke- see?