Enough breath for smoking

Posted in Uncategorized with tags on July 7, 2015 by unsensible

The air tastes like ash trays and the rain won’t stop
Third eye counts time in stabbing pulses
Rising and falling with your breath

Breath enough to run, but you won’t do that
Or to yell, but you can’t stand the sound of your own hoarse voice
Breath enough to smoke

Smoking an ideal solution for those with too much lung power and not enough time
Who have been betrayed by the certainty that there was something to say
A resolution if they just said the right things
Those who died with their boots on trying

But I’ll die to keep from seeing that look on your face again
I guess I’ll just sit here, my son
Out of advice, but full of believing
Keeping quiet by act of will
Guiding our course by one dimly remembered star

Trying hard not to be an asshole
My one successful innovation in my maudlin career as a dad
Like when you were a baby crying
And no one else was getting up
So I did
Not because of enlightenment
Because the alternative is unbearable

I’m coming with the bottle, don’t cry, it’s not so dark
It’s the 7th or 9th time tonight and I’m losing my mind
But at least when I can sleep,  I will
At least i can face myself come morning

Keyhole peeker, private stars

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 18, 2015 by unsensible

I envy hacks, drunks, duds, and failures
Those with ardor and ambition
Hopeless dreamers and those who love the poisons in their lives

Too full on late-night caramel nicotine
I can’t stomach the morning
So, close my eyes to soothe the raw undersides of lids

I’m dreaming in Kodachrome, in my holiday PJs
Cracking pine needles, head under the tree
I’m squinting at pin lights, making private constellations

If fate calls my cell phone, i may just hit send

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

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


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