Tuesday, June 16, 2015

the last great
free choices of
muttering head clutter
is couch staring
into touch screens
constantly charging
dead battery
smart phones and cancer
far away from
the pollution of children
chained to desks
we text away our addiction
and desire to
throw it all away
with never ending words
the dry pain behind our eyes
the only trigger
death switch cowards
that we are

Wednesday, June 03, 2015

poem for the rotting corpse of Descartes

who ceased
to think
but finally
and intimately
began to feel
the church
probing the
sky above
the antennas
of industry
to contain
life out
of grasp
the clouds
and forever
over us
i will text you
with my feelings
if you promise
to find purpose
in my seventeen
year old shell
still squared eyes
and spending
most days alone
and typing
into screens
the only sign
is the grey yellow
and the corners
growing older
with age

Monday, June 01, 2015

the paint stripped words
flicker faint melancholia
and childhood burns

while us bottom feeders
and shit kickers
without the dumb
repetition of teevee
celebrity chefs
wait languid drunk
and unamused
for a bathroom makeover
that will never come

we talk sex, revolt and anxiety
fists open and release
forming nose bleeds and
chipped teeth

rituals of love

driving home i watch
the bored placid faces
of cattle in their cars
and think of my friend,
his shaking hands
wry smile benders and
broken teenage dreams

there is no sadness
and we may yet live
to take this care
to our graves