Forgot your password?

Posted in art, artsy, creative, creative writer, creative writing, lonlieness, morning, original poems, original poetry, poems, poets with tags , , , on May 19, 2015 by unsensible

Life is a Password that I forgot to remember – and wouldn’t write down – the last time I had to change it
because I misremembered the old password
(between 3 to 6 generations of passwords ago)
for a web site I don’t recognize and can’t understand how and when I registered.

And I should be working, but facing a dozen open browser windows, I can’t recall what I was doing in the first place.

I can conjure up the timelines and origins of the many wrong passwords
I can remember why I made and what it meant to me
in the ancient history of nostalgic 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, and distant 2009.

When I lose my mind, social media will be the most reliable record of what I was actually thinking
I’ll go online to learn about more about myself
and my stunning lack of foresight.

Beatitudes for all my friends

Posted in art, artist, artsy, creative, creative writer, creative writing, creativity, dream, friends, original, original poem, original poems, original poetry, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poetry of the day, poets, portrait, short story, Uncategorized, writer, writing with tags , , , on May 18, 2015 by unsensible

Itinerant dreamers and hopeless bastards —
Would-be, part-time heroes and recreational junkies
Apparitional screamers and unabashed mashers
Button mashing, pleasure center, delectation monkeys

Bliss huffing ciphers of porno panaceas
Buttons up and zippers down, zippos aloft we hail you
Beautitudinal fevered hosts of all-night pizzerias
Angel dust and candy rolls, nothing to gain nothing to do

Prognosticating paramour come fuck me into nullity
Reflective pools within your eyes a functional nonentity
You were right, and they were right, may Holy Smoke objure us
Daylight doesn’t follow night and our kind can’t endure us

Communion then with the holy voids then let clouds of obscure us

No harm, no foul

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on April 30, 2015 by unsensible

It doesn’t hurt that you don’t love me
I’m not pale and tender anymore

It doesn’t hurt that you tricked me
I’ve been fooled by worse than you and lived to play the fool again

It doesn’t hurt that you didn’t mean it, never meant it, will never mean it
Don’t even know the address of the building of the basement

Where you kept anything true about you behind locked door
in a dissipated old box with other quaint antiquities

It hurts that it doesn’t hurt you

I’m shadow boxing feints and jabs at a specter of a creature
That I called love between the shadows of  my weakness and my misbegotten notions

“He beats his fists against the posts,
and still insists he sees the ghosts”

Social (IMHO)

Posted in art, artist, creative, creative writing, original poem, original poems, original poetry, poem, poems, poet, poetry, writer, writing with tags , on April 27, 2015 by unsensible

Tell me all about the life I haven’t led yet
Easter eggs and spoilers to movies never made
150 by 150 raises more questions than safe bets
Rendered in 600 by 600 resolutions to get laid

A million permutations to your so deep conversations
9000 bad intentions have more attention than your songs
100 million electric monks in worldwide frustrations
Where moral fags and flaming trolls still wonder what went wrong

OMGLMAO cuz WTF went wrong

Social (IMHO)

Posted in Uncategorized on April 27, 2015 by unsensible

Tell me all about the life I haven’t led yet
Easter eggs and spoilers to movies never made
150 by 150 raises more questions than safe bets
Rendered in 600 by 600 resolutions to get laid

A million permutations to your so deep conversations
140 bad intentions have more attention than your songs
100 million electric monks in worldwide frustrations
Where moral fags and flaming trolls still wonder what went wrong

OMGLMAO cuz WTF went wrong

Shine another day

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on April 13, 2015 by unsensible

If she looks at you like a dripping ice cream Sunday
Her mouth is all swoops and corners
She’s a polyglot in farce, acrimony, calamity, and calumny
If everyone she has ever known has betrayed her
And you are the new only to make the penultimate difference

If she asks for a drink with a hoodwink smile
A wry pleasure eyebrow
Veiled in the escaping spirit of her cigarette
She hasn’t any means and she asks about your ends
Like a Cheshire pays call on the welfare of a mouse

If she can’t stop talking
But every path leads to another
And every other leads to a story
And every beginning leads to her ends
Her woeful, sex-crazed, wisecrack, hardship

Then go get the drink
And walk out of the bar
Because all that glitters will surely shine
And shine on, man
There’s another one of you born every day

She’s like no one you’ve ever met
And there’s a reason for that
Amen.

Pitch Dark (Forget it)

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 9, 2015 by unsensible

Don’t start after bedtime
Late nights are the worst
Sleep’s forming a patina in the vignette of your eyes

After 1:30 a.m. and everything is a tragedy
Dropping the milk is a tragedy
Anyone too awake, anyone waking up, anyone too asleep, anyone going to sleep
Is a tragic, angry farce

It’s a “I’ve got to say this now because my head will be too clear in the morning” evening
My head’s too foggy to say it now
That kind of evening

Heads of cigarette corpses line up like fallen soldiers in immolated heaps on the edge of your apocalyptic glass
You can hear someone screaming in the hallway
It’s you, maybe
Your mouth tastes like carpet

It’s too late to start anything
And everything you wanted to do in the condescending daylight
Is already undone
Digits flipping from obligation to regret
With the indifference of an old clock back when digital was for assholes

It’s already 2;30 and you missed your chance to dream
You won’t remember anyway
There’s nothing worth remembering
90% are stress dreams
Because dreams don’t matter

Say it, I dare you
Open your mouth
Start with “I…”
Then wave your head sheepishly in an ignominious bob
Because your smile looks like shit at 3 a.m.
Even a dog knows not to start a fight it can’t handle, most of the time
“Nothing.”
“Never mind.”

Light a cigarette.
Go to sleep
Stare
Looking for stars in the cobweb corners of your eggshell eyes

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