Month: October 2014

Negative Reenforcement

let my silence be my narrative
let my silence be applause
let my unwillingness prevail
in every mortal cause

let my downfalls be as succulent
as a thriving native fruit
sliced in fours and drenched indoors
on wooden boards at home





give me a light
give me a tug
i can’t stand up right
in crimson pumps
it isn’t normal
for me to kiss
but i’ll make a difference
for the sake of it

that girl there is nice
she likes your smile
buy her a drink
and tongue a while
i’m just a vagrant
i’m not a view
but I have a fire
that needs tending to

a girl is a woman
in modern times
a melo-drama manic
caught in a rhyme
plucked and waxed
sucked and refined
no time for mistakes
no room for a mind

but I was a child
like everyone else
left at the playground
left at the house
i found a treasure
inside my head
built cities of matches
with skies made of lead

the bar is swimming
with jack and with oil
my legs are yearning
but my heart recoils
don’t say it is simple
don’t say that i’m dark
don’t dare start a fire
with this kind of spark

Slip Of The Lip


i’m a ravenous thinker with a
verbal violent streak
that kills in an instant
at the slip of my lips

is it acid pouring over or
words with no manners
that leave my mouth sore
whenever i speak

i’m not sick in the head
just in my heart
the cold freezes it’s gears
leaves me rust, inside & out

the clanging of wrenches on
instrumental bones
corrodes all the caverns of a
musical home

but my wits are in danger
my soul in a bind
that tightens and tightens in
an endless wind

i’ll steer clear of the gossip on
the tip of my tongue
and sew these lips shut
with the words that i’ve spun


Know Your Nose

Kurt Vonnegut’s portrait signature is forever something to be remembered by. Simplistic in it’s execution, it says a lot about the man; his wild hair depicting his no-boundary style of work, his forever-in-thought eyes, his signature in the middle of it all, representing the clutter in his mind that most writers and creative folk are merely impacted with.


A friend and I were talking about this the other day.

Me: You know some hipster douche bag is going to try and recreate this with their name and their portrait then brand it as their own and call it a ‘coincidence’.

Friend: Of course… In fact, you should be the first douche bag to do it.

Me: I don’t think I have any features worth exaggerating. My facial profile isn’t very exciting…

Friend: I wouldn’t say that. Your nose is kind of adorable.

Me: What.

Friend: Your personality really stems from it, I’d say. It’s like one of those turned-up, pixie/button noses, but with a disruptive slope – You know, like one of those giant slides you see at fair grounds with the bump in the middle of them… Beauty meets not-so-beauty. Like Anne Baxter, but maybe after being punched in the face once or twice… Though, your septum doesn’t drag down like some people, but maybe the way your nostrils flare when you get really, really pissed off could- Yeah, like that! -And the crinkle in your brow when- Wait, why are you giving me that look?

Me: I’m thinking of twenty different ways to hurt you without killing you.

Friend: I’d be careful about that. Because clearly I know how to describe you to the police department’s sketch artist.

Me: No you don’t – You’d just send them on a hunt for a rabid McDonald’s playplace.

With that said, I did create a new signature last night. And you know what? May all of my signatures be forever as slopey as a run down carnival ride, as wavy as the rolling hills of the Seven Sisters, as regal as the back fat from a devoted Wal*Mart customer.

I hope you all have a fantastic day, and pat your schnoz on the bridge. It deserves it.


shnoz sig

On The Abandoned Railroad Tracks


On the abandoned railroad tracks
I kiss the rust of history
It’s smoldering touch is cold and rough
And traced with torn up hosiery

On the abandoned railroad tracks
A shoe is left behind
It’s royal blue had torn right through
It’s heel had scuff marks like a dime

On the abandoned railroad tracks
Gold glitters in my eyes
A bracelet broken; forever glowing
Like diamonds in a velvet sky

“I wonder who she was,” I thought
Too blind to look ahead
Too deaf to hear the horn they blew
And now we both are dead