Archive for March 2nd, 2008

“the secret world of spies”

Sunday, 2 March 2008

the fox wears extinguishers
line up like bowling pins
for the fireball.

her cunt stinks. again.
loser pays the tab.

mustard suicide in the wrist slits
clocked by a breath mint that lost to a garlic gang.

the papers were stolen and no one’s
seen the disk.

have you see my keys?

there’s a ripcord of coffee around your neck
but please don’t pull, you
can’t handle the chute.

the glans rubbed her mons like a loving pet after throwing up Elmer’s Glue all over her carpet.

another idiot challenged the cops with a sword.
perhaps he really was a warrior from the past (he is now).
Bullets, I expect your report on my desk at oh-six-hundred!

blind kittens seesaw atop watermelon wedges
and look like they’re
always smiling.

Your frown is a barricade standing in the crosswalk of holding-hands love.

Why won’t you love me, slanty eyes?
Now all the Asian girls
fear me.

I don’t like basketball, too much bouncing.
I don’t like nascar, too much in-a-hurry.

Chess where you can stab the other player or fuck his wife while shouting CHECK…MATE!–that’s where the action is.

I had a dream I wrote this all down.
now that I have I think I’ll stop eating before sleeping.

the fox hates loose pussy.

Quoticle – go home alone and write

Sunday, 2 March 2008

I hate and I love. Perhaps you ask why I do so. I do not know, but I feel it, and am in agony.

~ Catullus (poet who loved a whore who mocked him)


Sunday, 2 March 2008

I once performed
a Satanic ritual
in order to
kill a man,
appealing to the
Forces of Darkness to
make fast work of him.

I burnt a toy motorcycle
in the flame of a white candle.

My target was a drunk who
rode the real bike.

It would be a short matter of time
before Satan helped him
kill himself.

The target had a Gift with the ladies
and being, I suppose, a charming drunk
he scored pussy at the bars
as needed.

Unfortunately his steady hump
was the woman I loved.

His charm was real.
He was more likable than the
woman I loved,
who was

I liked him even as I wished him

The plastic parts
of the toy motocycle burned and melted,
the die cast metal smoked black and grew hot.

But the target
didn’t die,
and later married
the woman I loved.

This made me feel slightly better:
I was the loser but at least he
claimed his prize.

The woman wrote me years later
apologizing for the way
she had treated me (another story).

marrying him
she’d finally realized he was a mean, selfish drunk
(strange, I’d never witnessed him mean)
and divorced him,
hardly a victory for me
who never got to
fuck her.

I’m unashamed of the old hatreds,
of having wanted to
another human being.

In that way I guess curses
do work.


Sunday, 2 March 2008

Never a big drinker,
that night I drank 4 shots
of vodka in 3 minutes.

I wanted to kill the woman I loved.

I walked slowly out of the bar
into black Alaskan night.

My boots crunched lovingly,
the air was crisp and clean.

Stars and light of stars,
you’ve never seen so many
in a single sky
in a single lifetime
it was like a full cereal box
of stars
had been torn apart
so that even the powdered stars
at the bottom had spilled everywhere,
a precise mess so beautiful
my tears dragged to the ground.

I wanted to kill the woman I was in love with,
the one inside my head,
so much better than the real one
with someone else.

I really wanted to cry but the sobs didn’t happen. Nothing did.

The military ship waited
at the miltary dock
like a Christmas dagger.

I rejoined the human disaster
on board.

Quoticle – Ticking Zen

Sunday, 2 March 2008

The hardest thing in the world when you get out there is everything around you.

~ Army Sergeant; Bomb Disposal Unit

Quoticle – necessary?

Sunday, 2 March 2008

Regard the society of women as a necessary unpleasantness of social life, and avoid it as much as possible.

~ Leo Tolstoy, Diary

“poetry forever”

Sunday, 2 March 2008

I remember the moment
I gave up
poetry forever.

Clicking through the
latest online issue
of a ‘zine,
looking for
my submission
like anyone seeks
their own face
in a group photo,
I stumbled across a different poem
I’d written
that I didn’t remember writing.

It was clever, edgy, spritely, etc., dancing like a weapony ballerina
sober on sunlight and pink socks.

I loved it
like anyone loves
their own kid
in a school play,
my poem was over there
and the one I thought I’d written was written
by someone else.

I didn’t need a DNA test to know
my words were
if some random asshole could Xerox
“my” madness
“my” fingerprints
“my” unique turds
so much
I thought they were mine.

So I walked away from
poetry forever,
it was easy,
I didn’t love anyone
and still don’t.

The gods had found a replacement
for a replacement
and now that that was settled
I could concentrate on my first love:
jerking off.

Trouble is,
no one can tell the difference
between poetry
jerking off.

Which is fine,
there’s no money
in either.

dead threats or heart splinters

Sunday, 2 March 2008

sad dogs with tennis ball jaws
Popsicle sticks in the trash
ants crawling over anything

the deflated Milk Dud with no malt center
overdue library books
trash bags that don’t fit the cans

clouds that don’t move
the last note of a too-long song
pissing on road trips

green potato chips
broken vitamins
stares from slow children

fat girls wearing belly shirts
abandoned nests
slingshots missing an arm

gagging spoons of cough syrup
world war 2 footage
smiling clowns twisting balloons

sweat under a necklace
mud on the treads of tanks
jammed photocopiers

bad sax solos (all of them)
political advertisements
helmets on riders dead anyway

sticky pennies good for nothing
steaming radiators
mirrorshades on dickhead cops

bones on the ground
sad Indians looking sad for Nature
spent ammunition

hurricane tracking
foreign flags
contracts signed or unsigned

dirty bathtubs
alarm clocks
final notices

flaming arrows
forced smiles
words abandoned


Quoticle – For vagina, man will give his only begotten son and much, much more

Sunday, 2 March 2008

“The evil that women should turn their men into beasts of burden, to be stripped of spirit, and hope, and faith – only because they have a vagina that can accomplish the deed. If there is a god, he did not mean this to be so.”

~ modified quote from The Ten Commandments