sad boys
live sad lives
in this sad town
in this sad world
with these sad wounds
that sadly won’t heal
with these sad smiles
and sad jobs
in this sad house
where even the walls cry.
Tag Archives: original poetry
Somewhere in Between
Draw
more drawings
and
Paint
more paintings
Of farts on
Fire
And massive babies
giving birth to tiny adults
Spindly Blue Men licking their own asses
Women Skydiving
with babies attached to umbilical cords
That are also skydiving
in spread eagle form
Wearing helmets
and parachutes
donning faces that fight the wind
Because
When we look at them on canvas
We can’t help but laugh
Being 8th grade fuck boys
Which we still are
hiding in bags of Cheetos
that lie below beards
and Cheetos stained wine glasses
Partnernless and Stir Crazy
You should have said, yes
to the guy who asked you out at work
he could listen to your paranoia
so we wouldn’t have to
a lover would have better ears
Post Hoc Death Blues?
Traffic seemed to sludge by us and the sun hit our collective black shroud. While my sisters son hid in front of me from pretty middle school girls yelling behind us, “Hey! Tyler!”, my sister, with red hair flowing and freckles gleaming in the light, said that Verona air smells like peaches and gasoline. Tyler’s friends were probably drinking cokes, eating disco fries and fun-dip, and talking about hot girls. Babies were being born somewhere, babies were dying somewhere, and I couldn’t deal with the intensity, so I put on my glasses to hide while we smiled to the girls because: What else do you do?!
It was a forgiving father that I saw at the post office smiling, but grimacing, because his daughter filled out a form wrong so they had to do it all over again.
And it was a smile because death is awkward and peaches and gasoline create beautifully fucked up tension.
So what else do you do besides calmly submit to the horrors of the endlessly intricate world, and smile in a confused transparent bubble.
cant you see?
will the pearly whites just slam shut
and stop that volatile spittle from spewing
i just dont have time to deal with your desires
your agenda is far from first
on the list of what matters at this moment to me
Mother
no one can pamper you
like a Mother can.
no one makes better mac and cheese;
or hot chocolate
just after you’ve come inside
from building a snow fort.
no one makes a better breakfast
on a lazy Sunday.
no one gives a better hug
than a Mother can.
no one gives better advice
when you don’t know what you’re doing
with your life.
no one is more comforting
when you’re having a rough day.
hell, No One else knows you well enough
to notice something was wrong.
untenanted words
I write songs with no music
I write hooks with no beat
I fly with no wings
I run with no feet
I drive with no wheels
Do you know how that feels?
I think with no brain
They call me insane
I swim with no air
I’m a broke millionaire
I act with no part
I end with no start
I love with no heart
That’s why I’m falling
apart
