Saturday, October 25, 2008

I dedicate to you (these)

Truth is a cherry
Tiny bomb in Robin’s nest
We are all lit up

Written in scabs and bruises
On honey-white knee:
Carnage, decayed decency.

So much waste is made
In all these dishonesties,
Chief Nihilist Son.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Lose A Turn

Time for some shut - eye,
Let's get the lids down on my almondines.
Nutcrackers if ever there were some!
Long lashes with wet noodles
And another afternoon slips away.

Baby Snake's all outta venom,
No insults to spit, although plenty of rattle.
Tears I have to force, a fake quaver in my voice
And I think to myself
"You're one bad actor."
And I think to myself
"What a wonderful world."

Life can't be half bad,
When strangers will pay for you to drink.
Life must be great,
Since trust is currency.
(You'll never run out, even in these: our trying times.)
Easily overspent, or squared away
Where it collects compound interest.

On your eleventh beer,
You start asking personal questions -
"Is nothing sacred!?"
I demand.
You tell me
"Disco for me, honey."
Much obliged sir!
I give one hundred and ten per-cent.
Five whole dollars return:
This time I've outdone myself.

Bears linger in my apple trees,
Ripe as the sour fruit with its 'added staying power'.

Hybernation is a temporary death
That I would give two toes,
(Or one pinky-finger) To participate in.
This is their lumbering
Danse Macabre.
If only I could sleep
Half of Canada away.
Or more accurately,
Fifty Nine Per-cent.

Each day,
I clasp the thick stacks,
And start counting.
From what I know,
And from what I've learned
It's high times, and high time that I lost a turn.
Candyland, Sorry, and so much Canadian Tire money,
Thrown to the wind.
Why should you gain a monopoly
On West Broadway,
Or Gaultier?
(If you pronounce this correctly, it rhymes.)

I'm a white moth burning - I am fucked!
I'm bad ideas about letter bombs,
I'm Roman Numeral Five.
I'm Evil Dead,
I'm finalized.

C'etait pour la passion, mon frere:
I let things fall apart on principal,
Or things just fell apart, I guess.
Twenty Two questions:
Two more, Two Less.

So we're out of breadboxes, wallpaper,
chocolate cake, specialized leather gloves -
Let us make a list.
Get us to the shopping mall -
We shall be recieved!
I promise you,
If it is the last thing I do,
I'm going to give you everything...

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Certainty, MB

And then it gets all sad in the middle:

The fall of Communism came,
When I was in grade nine.
I quickly learned what those Reds were really all about.
I had folded pamphlets for the Charasmatic Leader.
Highlighted by hand, the Doctrine of the Shaved Pussy.
Listened to proletariate marches by the Tragically Hip.
Drew charicatures of Karl Marx in art class.
Attended LAN parties,
Diligently puked in the sink with the rest of our collective.

Soon I would realize that Great Ideas,
Are better off in growing soft inside
The tortured hearts of Mama's Boys,
Our Charasmatic Leaders.

When my hand painted propaganda
Began to border on the sarcastic -
(Soon all it pictured was the sledge and scythe
And the word NO in quotations)
The Charasmatic Leader deamed me a lukewarm Socialist at best,
Told me that my opium, was the opium of the people,
And kicked me right out of his grandfather's basement,
Where I resounded, caterwauling with the other Pinkos there.

And then it gets all sad in the middle:

I began to notice holes in the plot
Of my personal revolution,
When each of my independant candidates
Began to mingle with one another.
I wanted them each for their serpareteness!
To steal votes from one another,
And dance like puppets, competing
For my affection, and my registration
With them and only them.

Of course it was always my intent
To never settle down.
Industrialisation of the student body,
Had me spinning, like a little cog
Attached to nothing and nobody
While all the wheels worked together,
Uniting in their basic similarities.

I found a green ribbon
On the ruddy-brown tiles of my highschool,
And tied it round my disheveled pile of hair.
I steeled my eyes in the lunchline.
I wore the same jeans everyday.
I sat alone, washed up in some locker bay,
A French Revolutionary,
Learning all the subjects (Except English)
In a patriotic language.
And subdued.
Tied up,
In something I found on the floor.

I said to myself,
In my selective amnesty:
"Ne me quitte pas,
Ne me quitte pas,
Ne me quitte pas."

Monday, October 13, 2008

3 works (lao soo, lao zoo?) (revised cuz i was drunkerz)

save yourself
from everyone
not just anyone

close all doors
you welcome the light no more

before sleep and doom
you hum a prayer
to the new moon

it is coming for you

always the opposite
still magnificent
bright smiling faces
so shine your grace for us

and beware

i pay you no attention
will i regret this?
can i forget to move on,
to further progress?

only time can tell me
what will be
i've seen some things
these images haunt me

so if you wish
to scream and howl
do not think of daytime
be a night owl

care less of this moonlight

so i bring this hand to you
will you take it?
hold it true?

or let go

you know
is on its way
trouble follows you

if you are going to be so shy
as to leave us all behind
to heed these lines
live in the night

and always be kind

surrounded on all sides
all of the time

impossible to ignore
the streets
the people
the booze seekers

going and going

every footstep
makes a path
in the road

so i throw a few coins
if i remember

draw some lines
to see how they assemble

erect a poem
or two

flip through those pages
find wisdom
from fu hsi
or lao Zhu

they tell me to be firm
to be correct

and good fortune will find you

should i follow these new people
to find my truth?

in a new city
islands, boroughs, and liberty

i wonder and live in this mammoth building
foreign to me

pristine beds to sink into
they swallow me whole

my dreams go on forever
and suddenly interrupted
by some howling from the new urban forest

there will be no more distractions

Sunday, October 12, 2008

I will stay away from serenity

here there are so many reasons
to take the steps to better yourself.
To get healthy, to get happy
to get well; somewhere
I am and another place
I have been.
Taking pills and smoking grass
with that place's sunset
seems better now
than even this
and I swear to myself
that I love I am
and my life,
when I begin to wonder
if I am my life
I myself
or my life within myself.

Serenity will take up a couple hours, but it won't erase a day.

By placing myself here
as opposed to there
I allow myself ignorance
other themes and other heroes
and endless simplifications
act like serenity in sentence.
So as the poem gets better,
I get ill
and hopefully when it gets perfected
I will be nowhere at all.

Until then, I will stay away from serenity, away from "the break of day o'er a wheat field in fall when the gold is gone and the dinge is all."

I will live here
away from romance
and expectedness
and hope you
can guess what I'll say next
before my anger gets the best of my beauty
and I break a foot on the third trochee,
then I'll cut it off altogether
leaving only here and me here.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

A Little Haiku

And I was, as a sailboat
on a windless day,
having to be content here.

Friday, October 3, 2008

What's up Faggits?

So I was cruising the internet in my psych class today and I was all researching “Poetry” on wikipedia. I got fucking offended, can you believe there are assholes out there that can write anything, and I mean anything, and call it a “poem?” So like this right here,

that’s a fucking poem man. I could pretty much be jesus fucking Christ at writing poetry for all I know.


Like right there. I wrote “You” and I followed it, by typing “know.” Shakespeare man. Oh yeah, I learned about him. He was this fag who wore frilly shirts and like fucked dudes or something. But I guess being gay makes you good with words, so like I sort of respect that. I wish being gay made me good at paying attention to my professor cause then, like I’d do it, so I wouldn’t have to be writing this here.


When I was googling poetry (right before I googled “chicks in thongs” though) and I found some stupid religious inspired sex poetry, or Relsextry, a website called it. Now, as an evangelical, this stuff makes me pissed. I only think about God when I’m praying, it’s like a fucking sin to think of him when I’m touching my dick on a chick’s tit. You know? So like I can’t believe people feel the presence of Jesus, when a dicks in a vag, that’s sacrilege and bogus, man. But people do it! And they call it art. Well you know, you put an “F” in front of that word, and we know what that spells. FART. Yeah, so like FART is just a stupid excuse to write dumb stuff. This for instance,

"When you’re on top
I feel like John Winthrop
On his first voyage
Cross the atlantic

Prepping his mates
For a glorious life
After the second
Of Christ."

Like what the hell man? I got bigger problems in my life to fry (paying for my hockey lessons, being out of coals for grilling, not dropping suishi when I eat it on a fork, just to name a few), you know, but I can’t get this stupid shit out of my head!

"When we’re both naked
I’m comfortable with original sin
I feel like I’d take the blame
For every single snake
Tempting a nude chick
To consume

Like what does that mean?

Poetry is so stupid. I can’t believe this shit gets faggits laid. You know? Oh fuck, my little sister has to use the computer...

God, fucking bitch. She needed to check a news website for some bullshit current event thing in a class. Eneways, where was I? Oh yeah, religion and sex poetry. So stupid man. Makes my dick hard, but not in a gay way, more in like a, "I wanna pound a bitch way." So pissed at this shit...

"Get in line lemon
I got tickets to this ark
Where You and I
Are going
To populate

Seriously man. What the shit?

Well I gotta go
Gunna see the rodeo
With my paps

And fucking Shakespeare
I could get used
to this.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Spouts the Privileged American

Lords and Lassies
We witness a history
That has, nor ever will
Relive itself with such uncertainty

A dynamo bout
Verse a great white political shark
And a celebrity stricken pair of no-rim glasses
With a mouth that gathers
Up all the crowds

So Ready all the blogs for
An event like this usually
Constitutes the purchasing of a ticket
But not today, my citizen friend, get your
loved ones on speakerphone, a beer and hunker down.

The feature
Is about to begin.