I am madly in love with the vast majority of you. This is my disclaimer. I am quite angry, so if you’re thinking about posting some trite response… Please don’t, you’re wasting time.
I saw the news this morning. I don’t watch the news, because of days like this. There was a 30 second segment regarding a killing on J street in Oxnard. I was disturbed.
My family lived in Cuesta del Mar for a few months in ’07. If you don’t know what that is, you might be privileged. I remember my babies being chewed on by cockroaches. I specifically recall my little neighbor, a five year old child (he was white), digging through my garbage to find food. His caretakers had sold his foodstamps to buy more methamphetamine. It was ghetto on the lowest level. That man caught a third strike, I was elated, that child starving piece of shit went away forever.
Nobody really cares though, I mean it really doesn’t matter if it’s not yours; does it? I’m lying naked in a bed that’s not mine drinking Parrot coconut water. You see, I’m not excluding myself from the bourgeoisie. I’m neglectful, I’m irresponsible, and I’m just as culpable as the rest of we. But, I’m tired, I’m sad, and I’m fucking angry. I hate your world, I can’t believe this is what we tolerate.
I met a kid who’s ten year old girlfriend drowned herself in an out house. Let that sink in…
A ten year old girl died expiring fecal matter somewhere in Mexico, and I don’t know the name of the town nor the girl; but I can make some amazing rice. She’s blowing bubbles on turds, and I’m feeling kind of hungry. I hate this. If I were Oppenheimer, I’d have prayed against the discovery of critical mass.
People call me irresponsible for having children. They’re the only good thing I’ve left in this world. I worked three jobs in Vegas heat, so that people could offer my wife cash for blowjobs. I hope your world burns. I hope chaos restores order. I wish change was like common sense.
I still wake up, I still smile at the sky. I love the flowers, I talk to the trees, I’m covered in sand. I breathe because I can. I’m happy, but I’m afraid that makes me insane. I can’t handle the news. Please stop it. I’ve had enough. So I’ll go to sleep when I’m done shedding tears. Mickey and Minnie will recover, and maybe I’ll see you at the thrift store, on the Avenue. Maybe change is just a few dimes and pennies spent on jeans and a ceramic vase. I suppose that may be all that matters. Maybe.



Check Mate

It’s funny to me that you should think that I ought to love her any less by now; as if loving her somehow diminishes my capacity to love you too. Ask yourself this question though: “Should he love me any less a year from now?” You see, a year’s a long time and a woman I once loved said to me thence: “Life is long.” (I’d asked if we’d never love again.) Yes, I’ve always loved her; and always is everlasting. But I wouldn’t have it any other way you see? Because I love you differently now than I loved her. The passion is different, the spark another color. Your eyes unique, your smile distinct. You are much more beautiful than her in ways that only you can be. I would be honored to delve into you for an eternity of eons. It’s funny to me that you should think that I would love you any differently. In truth, I suppose, that you should wish I’d loved her more. Maybe then I’d have perfected the art of loving. A rather delicate art that is; a skill and yet a truth.


Viridian Succubus

It was yours entirely,

I said it by my lips,

I gave it all to you for free,

the cost was more than chips,


I really don’t quite understand,

how you could kiss my friends,

then turn and walk and hold my hand,

and use my to your ends,


a little smile; a dainty smirk,

another lie to make me wise,

I really was your jerk,

the one that you despise,


but love, my friends, they told me so,

would never come from you,

as now I think to say I know,

the only way I do,


blood and bones they break to bruise,

and scars my heart do wrap,

so glad am I; I did not lose,

my spirit to your trap,


so tell the stories,

pour the lies,

like fires at the gate,


sow the seeds,

like sullen spies,

I know you love to hate,


but if you ever look to me,

or hope for bluer skies,

beware that it’s too late,


yes if you ever wanted me,

be sure to realize,

I’ll never be your fate.

House of Figs

Ill and proud,
well endowed,
children loud,
within the cloud,

reams of dreams,
are lost it seems,
burning things,
like coal in seams,

these are mine (he said),
hugged them by the head,
curly blonde and red,
gave a kiss and bled,

I’ll come back it’s true,
never leaving you,
give the dog his due,
mercy has to do,

what is right they say,
walking in the day,
come on back this way,
stare into the ray,

light is what you need,
epsom salt to seed,
heavy felt the deed,
red and blue to bleed,

injured and inured,
Curin always cured,
fruit I fell to lured,
beaming out he lurid,

calming down he stood,
giving place to good,
knocking on the wood,
know he understood,

let me out I say,
when I rhyme I pray,
drinking in the dei,
I will walk away.


Raging beast within again,
clawing at the sky tonight,
bearing down on castle walls,
breaking thru like wrecking balls,

screaming at the stars and trees;
scars and knees are buckling,
fury in the dark tirade;
hate tornado serenade,

wretched fetid vesicle;
clenching teeth and reddening,
visceral pernicious knave;
lacks the sentience to save,

has no time to give a care;
brooding cauldron sickening,
holding blades within his teeth;
does the thief brutality,

where is mercy? what is right?
did you even try to fight?
go on back to where you’re from,
frankly friend I’m more than done.

Chaotic God

I was afraid I couldn’t fill the void,
sometimes, I fear that she walked, because I wouldn’t meet her eyes,
I saw darkness in there… to me; an overwhelming abyss (in those moments),
yet maybe…
maybe I’m afraid of what she might see in mine,
is it possible that I might dread what I believe that she can do intrinsically?
but, then again, have I not borne her my darkest secrets? Passages ensconced?
hopes, and thoughts, and wants? Have I not bathed myself in nudity before her shadowed eyes?
so wait, damn… What the fuck?!?
(Hate is such a strong word to emphasize.)
should I club her mindless- caveman style or is this beyond resuscitation?
is this a challenge to continue or (rather) an opportunity to disjoin?
how far into the mirky wood does Frost grow?
how far into the shade will moss go?
are these, can these be things I’ll not know?
but if I be me, I don’t-not-never… no.
when to give up… when to press on…
when to tip cup… wind; to run strong.



I miss the air,ne

I miss the way it was to have my fingers in your hair,

and the smooth and rumple skin; the derriere,

the way you leaned to kiss without a care,

but that’s all gone,

is it not?

we move along,

without a thought,

they say it’s over,

is it true?

I can’t say Rover,

without you,

and hearts they brake,

as torn in two,

what would it take,

to tear into?

if all of time should pass us by,

would we choose to live a lie?

if we had done it once or twice,

could we still claim to be but mice?

and then again I realize,

just when I’m looking in their eyes,

I had it all,

I held it once,

before the fall,

I knew my wants,

within the dream,

as it would seem,

I needed nothing,

but my queen.