He Wrote A Fantastic Poem

He wrote a fantastic poem
And posted it on all different walls
Some people scoffed
Said the guy had a lot of balls

He wrote a fantastic poem
One that propounded a depth absurd
Hit on point mathematical
Purpose struck with every word

He wrote a fantastic poem
That sailed right over their heads
Thousands of years would pass
Before they understood what the poet said

He wrote a fantastic poem
One that soared in clouds of doubt
He punched through every idea
And left them wondering how to go without

He wrote a fantastic poem
A greatness struck inside his soul
A creativity, intelligence and love
Were his noble poetic goal

Not Truth

The pain built a house
Inside my soul that would never take me to heaven
Never get me to God
Never help me with life
Never live for me in my shoes
It was no use –
The pain built a house
A mortals house inside an immortals imagination
A gun to the head of a fascination
With twenty years of rumination
Left spinning
Left tired
Left as a piece of hubris not truth
Not truth

My Witch Friend

She was into the sort of witchcraft
That involved books
And incense
And I kind of liked that
Sitting there in all that nonsense
Not fucked up
Slitting wrists and saying:  Fuck why do I exist?
She was into the sort of astronomy
Known as astrology
“You had me at dog star” I said
And she scrunched up her entire face
And pulled out her tarot cards
To read the universe
“Why would you read the universe?” I asked
“What do you read?” she said rubbing a crystal
“Books” I said
And she scoffed

Love To Write

Love to write
And punch people
I like writing
And fighting
I like a good metaphor
And when my enemy hits the floor

I don’t like guns
Or knives
They aren’t fun
How the fuck can a weapon save lives?

Love to write
And bust people in the chops
Loved by bloggers
Known by cops

Love to write
To whip the shit out of an asshole who looks at me wrong
To sing a sweet hook
In a love song

Love to write
To crack a skull through a glass window
And come up with
The shiniest innuendo
Holding it up to the sun in my fist
As blood drips –


I buried my words in blood
And did what I could
To elevate your stupid mood
I slapped my imagination silly
Until it came back at me a bully
And dropped me from a third floor
Bouncing me off a car
I blasted a metaphor in a pipe
And waited for it to grow ripe
And then blew it like a popcorn seed
At the ballooning prospect
Of my own greed
I buried my thoughts in hammers
And dropped a concept and stammered
By the night that persisted
And wondered
Why at all I even existed

Turning Me In

Turning me in
Turning me in
Turning me in
I see you in visions and making decisions
About my beliefs
From an art that relieves me
You are the one who deceives me
To turn me in
Turn me in
Turn me in
Turn me in
A knife in my back
A cut in a swirl of a position of the world of the ward
A seven written in marker
On my head like a fucking retard
And a seven on my coffin lid
And look
Look look what you did
You turned me in
Turned me in
Turned me in
Turned me in
And I’m so mad so glad so sad so wadded up in a happiness
No one understands why I confess this
And every moment
Before tranquilization
Is precious
Before you turn me in
Turn me in
Turn me in
Turn me in