Poems to make you sigh

15. Shit Pig


hot dick
trouble stick
mother fuckers
endorsing it

swerve drunk
lump hunk
eyeball faller
belt punk

I'M A BAD GUY
shit pig spy
fist head waller
said lick my:!


March 2022



14. In the Clouds


every time I
touch the ground I
miss the mist
the haze I blaze
through to a
utopia


February 2022



13. Refresh


What's next?
Refresh
New page
New age
Smoke sesh?
Correct
Drown in your
Intellect
Create
Consume
Repeat
Refresh
What's next?


February 2022



12. Running Low


I'm running low on toilet paper
Will you pick some up at the store
while you're out?
Thanks.


I'm running low on gas, too
I'll stop by the station soon.
I'm running low on milk
And printer paper


I need more tea, I just ran out,
Dish soap, rice, and ghee
Did you remember to pick up
my toilet paper?


My wiper fluid's low
My razor's all went blunt
I can't quite get my tomatoes
to grow.


My free trial ended
So did my favorite show
I have more to write but
my pen is running lo


January 2022



11. Mad


Curled lip
Take the hit
What more to life than
Smashing shit?


December 2021



10. untitled


Heart grinds to a halt
Bracing itself before the influx - the Rush
Tip over the crux and gush
No stopping the cracks splitting on the fault

I know precisely why it hurts
The knowledge somehow makes it worse
How to comfort the mind's reckless blurt,
when nothing can render it inert?

My mind flops on my glacial soul
Immortal dying fish lets in the cold
freezes, thaws, then bursts aflame
Time to put myself together again.


October 2021



9. The Thumb


Glint of shadow knife bites
stained black-red under night
of a slip-quick scream and a Bump
Flee the white-eyed body missing crumb

the Prize secured! Tuck the finger away
slip back to lair to mount the Thumb
on the mantle, where it will stay
nestled with it's siblings, Plum


October 2021



8. Plastic


The world is made of plastic. It's convienient, cheap, and durable. We made plastic houses, so that nothing would knock them down. We made plastic clothes so that nothing would wear them out. Plastic sidewalks, plastic chairs, plastic silverware.


We cut down all the trees, so we put up plastic ones, with leaves dyed bright and neon that gave everybody headaches. We killed all the animals, so we built plastic creatures too. Plastic birds pecked plastic feeders, plastic squirrels climed plastic trees, chased by plastic dogs.


Our organs started failing, so we replaced them with plastic. Kidneys, joints, bones, then arteries, hearts, limbs. We covered the whole sky with plastic so the sun wouldn't crack our plastic skin. Plastic fingers, hair, noses. Plastic eyes and plastic stomachs.


We ran out of food, so we started eating plastic. Little plastic people in a little plastic world. No two people look alike - the plastic options are infinite. I took a vacation to a plastic island and swam in the plastic ocean. I saw a plastic sea turtle eating a plastic bag.


The little plastic president of the plastic USA has declared that we are running out of plastic, so we will build a million plastic spaceships and launch beyond our plastic shell, looking for another world to turn to plastic.


July 2021



7. The Invitation


I have an invitation
from a snail that lives in my imagination
to a dinner party of jubilation
Oh, what an invitation!

It read, "Comrade, come join us please,
you'll settle into our midst with ease
No coin is needed, but do not tease:
RSVP immediately, if you please"

"On my way!" I replied with a flourish,
but inside I hoped I had the courage
So I packed a pack full of porridge
and made my way into the forest

My imagination is a wild place
filled with creatures of horror and grace
I saw a frog made out of lace
and ran from a cloud weilding a mace

Now, I stand before the snail's steps
- through the whole forest, I have crept -
I prepare myself to be a guest
Climbing the steps is all I have left

An apprehension fills me, then
An anxiety that makes a din
Then it dawns, understanding begins
I simply do not want to go in


July 2021



6. untitled


Multiple alleles and orange peels
Something about the cat


February 2021



5. Definitely a Witch


She wears black leather high-healed boots
Ankles nuzzed by a black and orange cat
There's potion stains on her torn stockings
And a leather pouch that squirms tied to a shoelace

Black skirt, looped and belted - three different belts
One dangling a wand holster
Her hips sway like black magic
Jangling with beads, pouches, coins and chains

Her corset strings are loose and frayed
Her sleeves are full of holes
I watched her pull a mouse from a jacket pocket
And train her cat to hunt it

Her broomstick's handle is soft and supple
The end explodes with twigs and brush
When she flies, she tilts her head back
And cackles to the moon

Her black hair gleams in silver light
Curls a mossy tangled mess
A wart smiles from her nose
And whispers to her before bed

I met her in the dark swamp forest
Where she told me my palm's reading
I don't remember what she said but
She was definitely a witch.


Trans women are beautiful

January 2021



4. Existence


I walk through time and space,
dawdle through doorways and spreadsheets,
following an invisible map that's always changing.

Do I even exist? I feel like
an observer into the the interrogation room:
I stare through smudged plexiglass wondering
if the suspect will fold.
They won't, and I'll stay trapped behind the glass,
watching.

Am I in control? I feel like
a wisp of smoke that flutters and dissapates
without thought. I am indisruptive. I can't
change things, only brush past them
with my smoke fingers
leave the room smelling faintly like a campfire,
an afterthought, a ghost's perfume.

I think, therefore...
Do I inhabit this world? Or am I a ghost of someone
who only used to be?
Maybe they never were.

Will I ever know? I doubt it.
But someone else will.
Someone might read this
and reach out to me beyong the plexiglass curtain
to clasp my smoke fingers
and weave my existence into truth.


September 2020



3. Sweet Emotion


I've washed up on a beach
A grain of sand, tiny among thousands
The other grains are beautiful

Now I live among the others
The crabs and their own strange culture
The clams and the oysters
Resolved in their bold grace
and steadfastness

Now, the waves that once I barely noticed
In my tedious drift
Crash on top of my head,
Chaotic and caprecious

This place is new and exciting
It is a dramatic force for change
I let it wash over me,
wondering what form I'll take next.


September 2020



2. How It Feels to be a Plesiosaurus


My brief delve into the depths
Quite a trek from the seven septs
Revealed to me the world below
Where creatures dwell in the dark wet flow

My lungs expanded, my skin grew soft
I grew larger than an ox
My eyes narrowed and teeth got mean
I had a craving for sardines

My gnomish intellect then waned
Reverting back to lizard brain.
But while I, distracted, chased a mackerel
Another dinosaur had me tackled.

The squirmish was quick, and I victorious
Alas I lost the form so glorious
As I grow ever more notorious
I'll remember how it felt to be a plesiosaurus.


October 2020



1. Nobody Knows


So many things
Nobody knows
I want to know
But nobody knows

Sometimes I feel
Everyone knows
Some deep secret
That I don't know

Reality:
Nobody knows
And that secret
Is a lie


September 2020