Paper Bag

Sometimes,
I get so nervous when the female cashier looks at me.
She asks me if I want to buy a paper bag.
First off, I brought my own!

So I have to wonder to myself:
Is she flirting with me?
No, no, she does this a 100 times a day already.
She knows I have my own reusable cloth bag,
It's right there in front of her face.
She wants my number and a date, doesn't she?
I've noticed her good eye-makeup once before.
I'm no idiot.

What if she's a shill for the paper industry?
She's trying to get rid of these bags,
For dollars on the penny.
Entrepreneurs make America.
She's gotta be one of them.

"No thank you", I say.
I brought my own bag.
I'm awake about it.
Not like these other sheep.
I buy organic,
To keep the brainwash juices out of my mind.

She's obviously in love with me.
I mean - look at this that I am.
A gift from God to please a woman's desires.
I ask her out to Shakespeare in the Park.

She politely declines.
I hate when they play hard to get.
Next week, I'll ignore her.
That always gets them.

I wonder what the names of our children will be.
Probably something interesting,
Like Raven or Zelda.
I won't bring a reusable bag next time,
So she'll be right to ask me.

Lazy Bastard

I'm stumbling on debris on my floor.
Time to vaccuum again.

It's June again,
Which means I should clean the shower too.

I'm not lazy, I'm efficient.
How dare you judge me,
You filthy animal.

The Culmination of All Intelligence in the Universe

There has never been a better time,
To talk about this.

I have never thought it was a good idea,
To study to become a foot soldier.
I studied to take humankind farther,
To space and beyond the small life on Earth.

I am who I am,
And never be anything else.
I am not a Lion. I am not an Ant.

I dare not care for killing.
Or savagery.
I want everyone to live.
And with peace,
In their hearts, their souls.

I am the one,
The Eyes,
Ears,
Nose,
The mouth and tongue of the free world.
I am of Peace.

And I will stand behind my stance.
Until all of us know everything.

Everything Ends Anyways

It’s mine.

The destination.

The final curtain call,

My dream is ending,

And so am I.

I will die.

It won’t matter.

It never did.

The world goes on,

With or without me.

My choice.

My insanity.

I want it all to go away.

There is no other way,

For me to get help.

That I need.

I don’t want it anyway.

Not like it matters now,

Everything ends anyways.

Thanks, But No Thanks

Thanks.
I’ve had enough.
Why didn’t anyone care?
I thought someone would.



I wish life were fair.
No one knows where we go after this.
No one really knows where.



No thanks.
I tried to tell you.
Why didn’t anyone care?
Maybe I should instead.



There isn’t a need for me.
I’m sick of my apathy.
Every day is like this.
Everything is what it seems.



I wish life were fair.
No one knows where we go after this.
No one really knows where.



Thanks.
But no thanks.



I’ve had enough.

Other Side

This isn’t what I thought it would be.

It’s clean.

But it’s a fantasy.

I wish I had a family.

One day, maybe.




I wish for a change.

But it’s not enough.

I need to get out of here.




Far away.

A lake with calm waters.

For a change.

But it’s not enough.




Fascinating to be here.

Because it’s all a distant memory.

Now, I’m clean.




No scars.

No hurting.

The aches are gone.

The misery.




All apart of me.




But now I don’t need anything.

No Problem Solved

It never happened,

Immortality.

So close but not close enough.

A killing instead.










Of me.










I have no belongings,

Everything I have is this life.

Is me.










Now I have the upperhand,

Now, everyone else can’t have me.

I hope they all will understand.










I win the game.

I’ve won.

There was no problem.

I solved it.

I didn’t have to play the game of life.

Exit Here

Exit signs everywhere.

Exit here.

Exit there.

I’ve got to make my exit now.




I won’t be making it back to this highway again.

Because of this Cardinal sin.




My eternal suffering can exit my soul.

With just one simple choice to end it myself.




Display the emotions.

Formulaic factions.

I have nothing more to give.




No exit - no comfort.

No psychological urges.




I can finally be happy.

Dinner with a Friend (Grim Reaper)

My severed head I walk around with.




Look up to me.

While I admire death.

There’s only pain and suffering.

Every once in a while there’s joy.

An abstract beauty in a world of pain.

I adore.




Well, now it’s poetry to my ears.

To see the great beyond.

I’m here and I’m staying.

I’ve made it.




I guess a sunset is a painting.

There’s a palette of beauty.

In an early death.




Why am I not surprised it happened so fast?

It wasn’t meant to last.

It’s over.

No other.




In the dirt.

No one hurt.

A rebirth.




No.

Just another skull,




Materializing into earth.

I Wish For an End

Goddamn heart never stops.

I’ve tried everything to finish it.

Fried fatty foods, cigarettes, no exercise.

Everything except a gunshot or jumping off a building.

But maybe soon.




All I know is I wish for an end.

Is that so much to ask?

I don’t know and I don’t think so.

I’m weak.

There’s nothing left here for me anyway.

I’m trapped in a body I don’t want or deserve.




Goddamn brain never stops.

I’ve tried everything to finish it.

Terrible music, terrible movies, terrible books.

Terrible poetry.

Instead I get awarded for my contributions.

What takes me no effort to do and I get called an artist.




I wish I could.

Counterintuitive possibilities.

Suicidal Tendencies.

I’m still not flying.

So I drag my feet across your lawn.




Give me a medical review.

Judge my case.

I’ll appeal it to the end.




Until I’m dead.

Crushed Dreams

I just wanted to be somebody.

Now, I’m somebody else.

I never thought I’d be alone.

But here I am.




I wish I’d known my own thoughts.

Before I threw them all away.

My crushed dreams are me.

I’m one and alone with all of them.

There’s no more dreams.

I’d hate to have more.




The registration of my demolition.

My brains and my body.

Annihilated and immigrated into dirt.

I’m not worth it and neither is any of this.

All my dreams were just dreams.

I don’t deserve to get lucky.




It’s all fun and games until reality hits.

Then bills need paying and I’m broke.

What’s funny is I’m broke all the time anyway.

Why?

To be a fucking artist.

So some asshole can get lucky.

And here I am working a shit job to pay the bills.

Life’s not fair unless I’m pulling hairs.




I wish for dreams to never come true for me or for you.

It All Began

A superhero is a human being.

Nothing hurts, not even bullets.

What about a noose?

Self-inflicted means relief.

Now I’m a debt cleared by the banking institution.

It’s true.

It all began when life became valuable.

Suddenly, a price is put on it.

And one is prettier than the others.

So the pretty ones get sold.

And in this fantasy no one is a whore.

Except the living.




It all began with being property.

Having value.

Quality.




A human being is a superhero.

Nothing hurts, not even bullets.

What about a noose?




Self-inflicted means relief.

Under Pressure

It must be so nice to be me.

All I have to do is take it easy.

Even when others starve.

It’s so easy to turn a blind eye.




As long as it’s not me.

I can enjoy my life.

Who cares, really?

Who cares?

Really.




It must be cool to be me.

All I have to do is fake being immune.

Nothing bothers me.

There’s no pressure to act.

We’re all actors, right?




As long as it’s not me.

I can enjoy my life.

Who cares, really?

Who cares?

Really.




It must be so fun to be me.

All I have to do is… cry.

Even when others… die.

It’s so easy to not care.




As long as it’s not me.

I can enjoy my life.





Who cares, really?

Who cares?




Really.

Started Well

Celebrations and birds flying high.

I don’t remember ever being so happy.





Then I got a brain, and my happiness left.





I never thought it would be something that fails.

But it did and now I’m now done.





Oh, wait.

It looks like I have to deal with it all.

For a very long time.





It hurts me the most.

And I can’t even give it to anyone else.

While they have celebrations.

With their birds flying oh so high.





I’m dirt beneath their feet.

I was the revolution.

I can’t be the absolution.

If I’m forgotten.





Enjoy your freedom.

Mine is in another place.


Far from here.

Luck of the Irish

The soul is in thru the eyes.
A loving soul I've seen with mine.

As we ate and drank and stayed merry,
Her attention left our side,
As a dog was walked by.
I pointed it out.
She blushed her gorgeous cheeks,
Light red.
I'm in heaven,
I breathed.

We went for a stroll,
With our city.
There were turtles.
Everywhere.

She cares for animals.
What a woman she is.
Her heat radiates,
From her big heart.

She's so loving,
I feel at peace.
Not tormented anymore.

I fell almost immediately.
Her loving soul reached out,
And passed into mine.
I felt love.
How good it felt.
To be alive.

I got lucky,
To have this day.
A beautiful soul connected,
To me.
I can't let go,
Of this goodness.
I'm addicted to good fortune.

In her.

Cream and sweetener

A nice pick-me-up while at the office.
Or at home, after waking up from an afternoon nap.

Coffee?
At 3pm?
ARE YOU INSANE?
Unless you like your stomach pain,
Try a cup of fresh brewed tea.
Trust me, nobody wants you jumping like a blubbering whale that's beached.

Do yourself a favor.
Yes, there's caffeine in it,
But not like half a line of cocaine.
Which you definitely don't need either.

Black tea is brown.
Green tea is yellow.
White tea is golden.
Herbal tea is rain water.

So really it's brown tea, yellow tea, golden tea.
And hot rain.

Don't be like me and use a microwave to heat your tea.
In England they could arrest you for it.
And throw your tea bag out before drinking.
It's a public nuisance and disturbance of the peace.
Also, it's gross.

Mixing red, yellow, and blue

Her eyes. They burn into mine,
So I only look for a moment at a time.

A lovely bird singing her song of joy or sadness,
She can be ready to fly or ready to create a nest,
Of baby birds.

She is one of a kind.

Have you ever noticed a woman's voice,
Is like a song she sings when she speaks and you are in love?

Bananahead

Big yellow fruit.
Cylinders with narrow tips.
Curved at the ends.

Sexual fruit,
But not by their design.
Our views and our design.
Phallic.

Monkeys eat bananas.
So do humans.
This gives us relationship.

Bananas are healthy and sweet.
Potassium is plenty in a banana.
Most people eat one banana.
But have you ever tried to eat one right after another?

Women eating bananas is considered sexy by hormonal men.
Some men eating bananas can be sexy too, considered by other hormonal men.

Bananas go good with peanut butter and a glass of milk.
Elvis likes peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwiches.

Don't get me started with plantains.

When We Get Spooky

I'm on the streets, alone.
Desperately not seeking attention,
Yet I'm found.
This always happens and I won't turn it down.

A man sees me and points his camera at me.
"Can I take your picture?"
I feign a smile.
"Sure."
I go to West Hollywood every year.
On Halloween.

This year, again, alone.
Sometimes a friend accompanies me.
Many times I make new acquaintances out on the street.
I go whether anyone is with me or not.
People-watching is a pastime of mine.
I enjoy anonymity.

Another camera, and then a camera phone.
They like what I've brought to the Carnival.
I like making things doper than dope.
And not spending more than a few dollars on it.

The usuals are there.
I see a Superman, a Batman, a Flash.
I see a naughty kitten, the half-naked kind.
My eyes try not to make contact.
She looks down at her cleavage anyway.
I'm caught.
I try not to make eye contact with her and move on.
She's probably trouble.

There's usually a few people in stilts as high as 10 feet tall,
And men dressed as women.
The gay men dress in leotards and the straight men dress as buff heroes.
Many people there tonight.
Most arrived late because of work during the day.

Tonight I'm a mix of Ace Frehley, Chad Gray from the "Dig" music video, a Slipknot member, and a punk rocker.
I carried my Guitar Hero guitar with me as I walked up and down Santa Monica Boulevard.

Some people brought their children along.
Even though all the web sites and forums say not to bring them.
Maybe some people don't get the news.
Maybe some just don't care and show the world to their kids.
Maybe that's a good thing.
I wonder if I ever have children what I would do.

A black woman walking the other way from me inches closer.
She gets close and starts playing my guitar.
I smile and nod.
At least she's having fun.

A man stands out in the crowd with a Jack O Lantern bag.
He's handing things out.
I go over and hold my hand out.
He gives me three condoms.
"Be safe tonight!" he says.
I wanted candy and I'm mildly disappointed.

I see myself in the mirror of a frame store.
I've painted myself and my beard in whiteface.
The opposite of blackface, which is considered racist.
I wonder if anyone else has this thought.

A white woman sees me and makes the sound of a guitar whammy bar.
"WEEEOOOOOOOW!" she exclaims.
I don't know what to say so I smile and nod as I walk off.
What a glorious night.
I'll never get bored with Halloween.

Cleanse

Mold again.
Either stop it,
Or let it consume you.

But there's no way to stop it,
A complete genocide of spores is impossible.
But I have plenty of bleach.

I have it on strong authority:
The strongest natural fibers in the universe,
Are Iranian chin, ear, and nose hairs.

Adamantium won't stand a chance.

I've tested this out,
On myself.
Laboratory specs be damned.
I cut myself on my own.
These hairs cut through me,
Razorebladed in lifetimes.

I embrace the complexity.
The stench of my armpits.
Smell it.
Au natarale.
For at least five minutes,
Until I'm dried.

Inhale the essence of man.

Dirty feet,
Hairy.
Testosterone pumping.

All in one small spot.
I call mine.

I guess it's time to clean the shower.