Monthly Archives: January 2014

Phone Poem 850

Trying to kick it back in
Jump off
Ride the whirlwind
And begin:

Another night blazed with the kids
As they play at their vids
I joke about finding my corpse
I kid, without remorse
About burying the body in the garden

But underneath, I’m dead serious
When my chest dances delirious
It scares the bejesus out of me
And I long for a bottle in front of me
Or a girl to make me harden

Now I have to poop
And hope I don’t blow my guts
Right out my ass

Posted from my phone.


Scared Shitless

Are you okay?
No man
I’m pretty fucking far from okay
My heart races
My pulse flutters
A circus in my chest
While sitting here at rest
No history in my family
Of cardiac calamities
But there’s nothing about my clubfoot either
And that’s congenital
Plus post war neonatal
So yeah
I’m scared shitless

Posted from my phone.

Slinging Words

I haven’t written much, it seems
That is
I’ve written, but not my dreams
None of the internal screams
I’ve been writing a lot in my articles
Using my vocabular arsenal
To see if I can’t spread my words
(The actual “paying” gibbers and turds)
To larger, more populous shores
I want to make my presence known
Carve a niche to call my own
From which to wage my wars
Reign words down upon their ears
Bend them over and spank their rears
In a metaphorical sense, of course

I’d love for my words to suddenly rocket
To put more money in my pocket
But it’s probably just another pipe dream
We’ll see when the next one hits the screen
And I send it to prospective publishers
Bullets from this old gunslinger

Monday Monday (Reprise)

Another Monday starts
No babysitting today
I’m up too early

Sunday Night 1107

You awake, bebe?
I’m thinking about you, girl
I wish you were here

Girl Power Edit

The article’s ready for bed
So I took down the piece that was here
And give you this poem instead
In case the title wasn’t clear:

I’m writing an article
And one of it’s particles
Is a treatise on Girl Power
The old mans point of view
Sexist gibbers and spews
About deadly sweet lovely flowers

End Of Round Three

Last game of the round
Dragging on and on and on
The night is still young

Posted from my phone.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

I wonder what I might
Or who I’ll see in my dreams tonight
WIll I be bathed in love’s sweet light?
Chased by shadows and cower in fright?
Consumed by flames burning bright?
Sprout wings and take flight?
Fall from a great height?

I’ll wake up alone
And start all over again
Pretending to live

Phone Poem 1111

What’s it to ya?
Another beatdown ends
And I still don’t comprehend
Why the hole still hurts
Like it did at first

Fire it up
Let the smoke unwind
The turmoil in my mind
Of course it doesn’t work
Loving you still hurts

Posted from my phone.