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Tag Archives: poems

a penny for your thoughts?

How do sense and cents sound the same.

It doesn’t make any sense.

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Ser Marco of Hackensack

sometimes in my mind,

I’m a prince or a knight,

standing up for what is Good and Right

in a world of evil-doers and warlocks.

 

but sometimes,

I think that I’m the monster,

and that knights

just can’t exist here.


Close Eyes To Exit

Close your eyes to exit

This fucked up world.

Put on some music

To drown out the

Thoughts in your head.

Watch a movie

let the pixels dance

and forget about the world

for a little while


Driving To Penn Station

The Homeless people at the off ramp to Newark

who try to clean my car windshield

with dirty newspaper

probably have a lot to say,

About where it all went wrong

in Viet-nam,

How they left their humanity

in a burning Saigon

They’d say Ho-Chi Min was a son of a bitch

but even he’d

be better than this.

They’d say how afterwards drugs just felt right,

It was the 70’s,

and everyone was high.

Gerald Ford had plans to help,

everything would turn out fine.

The memories of private friends,

with murderous grins

And the screaming women

who wouldn’t give in

Hide from them

in every crack in the sidewalk,

Every face with slanted eyes

hides the taste

of Agent Orange.

Now I’m rolling up my windows

and locking all the doors

Saying boy What a dump

as I press the gas

and try to speed up

And get to Penn Station time.


the Tragedy on Route 23

the rain drums down on the window at 11:00 on Wednesday night, and I Stop in to the diner after a long day for a bite; I gloomily pick at french fries, and use them to scoop cole slaw And I can’t help but Overhearing the 30 year old busboy talk excitedly to the old sour-faced waitress- It’s just how Jay-Z got started! I just have to keep making beats, and sell a couple to get the money to get out of here, then I’m set! This shit is going to blow up, know sayin? No more wiping no fucking tables! My Dad told me I’m getting real good. Karen leans in with my check and smiles wryly and says with enough melancholy to break my heart- Some people are superstars in their own mind. I look at the check for 7.22. I leave her a 5 dollar tip for her wisdom. I walk out into the rain and shed a tear where it is quickly washed away and lost.


missed the boat

the world was in my grasp

and I turned my face away,

because I  guess that’s who I am.

I guess i’d rather just watch railroad tracks,

Watch the trains rolling out

To California or El Paso,

Tacoma or Ontario,

or other places I’ll never go.

I let the door shut

on that perfect person

and for What?

Garbage and Broken families,

shadows of marshland memories,

Cold Tupperwares of tortellinis.

I guess i should have tried,

but it may be

that loving another

just isn’t for me.


spook lights got me lost in skeleton swamp

it’s 2 am again, and Marco’s softly following a will-O’-the-wisp into the murky depths of the bog, stumbling over logs in the fog, trying to reach the light in the night before the glowing Red eyes of the Beast close in for the feast.


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