a poem about why you should take my old work with a grain of salt
There once was a young boy, a sweet, but different kid, who was taunted and bullied and he didn’t always handle it well. There weren’t buzzwords like “cancel culture” or “safe space” when the boy was growing up, so his bullies never got canceled, and the boy, despite the torture, never really needed a “safeContinue reading “Safe Space, a poem”
Get up, eat. Drink some speed. Get on the rat race’s beat. Out the door, you proceed, just another person in the street. Not an inch of power to concede. Show up, sign the sheet, like the faceless hog decreed, and with pay, you can’t compete. Day in and out, at a painful speed, destroyContinue reading “A Villanelle For Capital”
Repeat. Repeat the show you’ve seen a million times. Repeat and pour yourself another. Repeat your good intentions. Repeat your abuses. Repeat your habits, the good, the bad, and the destructive. Repeat your favorite quotes and your favorite lines. It doesn’t annoy anyone. Repeat your gestures. Repeat your route to work. Repeat your politics, andContinue reading “Repeat”
The song that is playing reminds me of a long forgotten philosophy, a former method that was never lost because it never could be found. This is not literature from a street corner, nor is it a contrived notion to put meaning where it won’t belong. So easy to forget, too much to wonder, question,Continue reading “The Oldies”
Gaslight The online archives will serve as lessons in logic for our future Plato’s in training. Fallacy upon fallacy, legitimizing evil, demonizing the good, the innocent. Easier to do that than change. Human spirits trampled by intentions always unkind. Easier to torch the land than it is to water new seeds. The Greats plant seedsContinue reading “Gaslight”
A poem about the fun side of addiction.
A poem from my wayward youth, when I used to ponder my existence.
In my not-so-humble opinion, it is easier to quit smoking cigarettes than it is to quit Twitter. — Read on http://www.patreon.com/posts/46128039
Once again, your favorite poet is begging for money.
Where is the methadone clinic for the people who take drugs with their eyes and thumbs? Why does asking for the wifi password feel like finding a vein?
A poem, but not about tinnitus.
A poem for 2020.