poem
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The Eschatology Of Our Mad Love Hangs Over Our Necks Like The Blade Of A Guillotine One day she would be gone. It was always her ace in the blackest whole of our universe. The ultimate cunt Goddess of our big daddy gang bang cosmos from the ecstatic screaming orgasmic beginning to the whimpering Hippocratic
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Tell Me I am… “I know it’s pretty. But, I didn’t take it out just to get some air” -Requiem for a Dream Beautiful. How long have we starred over the edge of the abysmal end, two disembodied ego eating eyes mesmerized forgoing everything we know of nothing? We have secret carrion cravings and bestial
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“We who are about to die salute you.” for Jack Johnson, Joe Lewis and Mohammad Ali The title of this anti-poem, about death and taxes was originally ‘Killing Two Birds with One Stone’. Then it was shortened to ‘Two Birds with One Stone’. That wasn’t blowing my skirt up so I changed it to
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Fire Starter II Prometheus speaks It’s funny now to hear the tribe talk as if you were something noble Not just savage. But, I’ll have you know it wasn’t bravery or ambition that drove me To steal it as much as it was the cold. And I’ll be Damned if I’ll freeze to death while
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Turing Test a Haiku Failed the Turing test today. I do not know how I feel about it.
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A Flock of Bums I have been tossing half-smoked cigarettes into the parking lot at work. Hoping to attract all of the neighborhood drunks, bums and crack whores. Like pigeons on scattered breadcrumbs. The boss hates it when they hang out in front of the store, begging for change that never materializes. When they are
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If You Smell Something Stankin’… If You Smell Something Stankin’… it’s me I’m the shit to the devil with your politically correct false modesty noble savage hand writing my woman’s writing her novel on the computer I can’t write on the cursed machine I don’t trust the binary code of machine language I want more
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Dreams of Impermanence She is trying to bend A silver tablespoon With her mind And a man to her will. Whatever he was When they met it was Not enough they have Grown in different directions. One has grown older The other has grown up If he will only genuflect Worship me in prayer. Celebrate
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When You Wake Up at Odd Hours I am eating rainbow sherbet In the dining room turned into my office. Smoking a blunt and a Newport It’s 5:39 in the A.M. The coffee is almost ready It’s sneaking up my nose Soon I’ll walk into the kitchen Barefoot, black jeans and Mister Rogers Sweater to
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Confessions of a Poolhall Philosopher I create nothing from the infinite within. I am not an artiste my words are clumsy my tongue thick with this alien vocabulary. I am a vessel I do not claim to control only to resonate. I listen to the voice of my people to see the emperor has no
Joey Cloudy online 