You Won’t Die

You won’t die

You will be reborn

You are not from earth

You are foreign

You won’t die

You will be renewed

Your deeds

Will be reviewed

You won’t die

You’ll live even better

In nicer pants

And a nicer sweater

You won’t die

It just looks like that

Actually you will die

But you’ll come right back

You won’t die

You literally won’t

You’ll figuratively leave

But you’ll really just float

You won’t die

And neither will I

We’ll watch for death to come

And we’ll sneak by

You Live In The Shoe

You live in the shoe

In the corner of the

Room with many

Other shoes

I live in the dense

In the riddled

In the defense

You live in the socks

The drawer at the top

With a wad of cash

And an old school watch

I live in the frame

In the solid real

In the narrative and in

The way of poetry

You live in the wash

In the cleaning

Scrubbing trees and gardens

Until each leaf and trunk

Shines like your pasty face

I live in the earth

My roots are deep

They go back in time

And I am a thousand times murkier

Dirtier

But have a clearer mind

You live in the dream dogma

And the script

You have your afterlife to look forward to

Supposedly it’s the shit

I live in my disbelief in your beliefs

My disappointment in you

My resentment of you

And swallow all that I have to

Because I only have now

And live no more after I die

The Machine Knocked On My Door

The machine knocked on my door

I opened the door

“Add me” the machine said

“No” I said and closed the door

“Who was that?” Adam asked

“Nobody” I said “mind your own business”

Adam went back to playing Dark Souls II

“Drew” I yelled “are you gonna eat that KD?”

“Yeah” Drew said

“Can I have some?” I asked

“No” Drew said

There was a knock on the door

“It’s that fucking machine again” I said

“It might be the landlord” Adam said not looking up from Dark Souls II

“The landlord doesn’t knock in perfect succession” I said

“Get the door!” yelled Drew from his bedroom

“I’ll get it if you give me some of your macaroni” I said

I waited for an answer

But none came

Drew was on the phone with someone

“Fuck it” I said and went to the door

I opened it

It was the machine

“Fuck do you want?” I said

“Add me” said the machine

“If I do will you quit knocking on my door?”

“Add me” said the machine

I slammed the door shut and went back into the living room

The macaroni was sitting there glistening

I reached for it

Began eating it

“Drew is gonna kill you” Adam muttered

“Drew is on the phone” I said

“So you’re gonna eat his dinner?” Adam said

“Yeah” I said “you have a problem with that too?”

“No” Adam said

The machine began knocking at the door again

Nobody Out There

Nobody out there

Nobody at home

I’m just spaced out

Writing another poem

I just got up

I had a shower and dressed

I know that’s boring

And you are now unimpressed

Not that you were impressed before

But I thought I had you interested

In ideas I put

Behind ideas I criticize

Behind ideas in which I’ve invested

Time

Nobody out there

Nobody home

Writing about it

In another ineffective poem

Giving up on life

Giving up on writing

Inside dying

Inside fighting

Meaninglessness chokes

Strangles, sometimes even kills

Preventing an early tragedy

With a pill

But the tragedy remains still

She Put Love In Front

She put love in front

And I said “hey don’t do that”

I said “we don’t know what it is”

I said “we shouldn’t trust it”

She put love in front

And vented

And said this is what it was

And I said “oh no not perfection”

I said “not absolutes”

I said “not spirituality”

She put love in front

And pushed it

Like some cheap product

I only had to buy

And I said “I am too rich for such an item”

I said “people do without it”

I said “we could do without it”

But you couldn’t do without it

And followed this “perfection”

This “love”

This “spirituality”

Down the rabbit hole

Away from me forever

I Scatter My Brain Across The Page

I scatter my brain across the page

In a lost moment of heartbreak and rage

“Dance” I yell down the tunnels of my mind

And I move through the crowd ignorant and blind

And someone pushes and the blood rushes

And I go ape and my face flushes

I rip the reality out of the pretend

And you flounder, slip, stumble and end

Whisking ideas as though to froth them up

In the madness of wishing for it:  A wish to be fucked up

And death glows like a heartfelt wound

The death that could come later

The death that could come soon….

They Curse Me And Wish I Go To Hell

They bitch at me about my attitude

They curse me and wish I go to hell

They forfeit my life in homicidal dreams

And cast an entirely horrid spell

They turn me to a pin cushion with voodoo dolls

They slit the neck and cut off the balls

They jump on ideas of crucifying me

And I remain to them nothing at all

And I curse them to my own fate if I am killed

To make some religious nutcases dream fulfilled