love
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Fuck Poets I ain’t fucking no more poets! I mean it. I’ll still be friends with’em And hang out with’em once a week at the bars, bookstores, and record stores. But outside of the readings, workshops and features I’m through fucking them. They’re all “door knob sucking crazy.” The bartender’s right as the weatherman. The
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Eulogy for Robert Cochran “…they wanted to blossom and that means being beautiful, but you want to ripen and that means being dark and taking pains.” -Rainer Marie Rilke Five a.m. I dreamed I had a vision of your effete corpse dancing naked decomposing meat marionette attached to invisible wires bloody hollows weep crimson
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And It Was Sweet When I was about seven years old, I guess it was the summer of ’69. My father hit my mother for the first and last time After the fight we, my mother, little brother and I moved out of our white wood framed two-bed room house in Oakcliff 2607 Overton road
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HOW’S THAT WORKING OUT 4 U? While Morpheus Greek steps out of the dream within speaking a muted language through closed captions on the flat screen tv over the stilled raving of steel drums. There is no dream, only a digitized illusion. a conjured spirit of electrons and closed casket circuitry arrives to answer pixelated
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Idiot “I want to grow old with you.” and I knew it was a lie like “Punks not dead.” It was beautiful. And I fell for love. What a title for a poem.
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She Left This Death and I have unfinished business Tonight we get our affairs in order Settle an old score. I’ve been out of commission For nearly a decade, now this is going down. A Kungfu porno, her praying mantis vs my snake fist. She left this? She coos with a smile after I pull
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I Want I want you to hold me inside of you Like the night sky holds all moons. I want you to crucify me with bloody kisses Like I was the king of the fucking Jews. I want you to nail me to a cross Made of the shadows of my own psychosis. I just
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Gravity -after Renee Maria Rilke I live my life in decaying orbits Pulling out of the death spiral to swan dive Through the center of the dark hub of the Morning Stars Hell Gate When I was a child, I circled around the cosmos Circle shrinking in the dryer Circling the moon and a
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Love in the time of Snow Angels Outside just beyond the glass walls of my second story bedroom the clouds of February 2015 bury the city of faces in titanium white shrouds the cars slosh by in icy treads and the voices of my brothers as they pass each other on the thin iced sidewalk
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A POEM RESURRECTED: from the lost book of Evangeline, chapter 31, verses 41 to 59 December 28, 2015 I can say without ego this is my finest sword. -Hattori Hanzo After the last manic pixie dream girl with bad boy and daddy issues is gone gone gone. And all that remains undulating in the toxic
Joey Cloudy online 