I Have To Feed The Hole

Bowl after bowl
Down into the goal
The task
To become whole
Bowl after bowl
Trying to show a talent
Or be pro
Or fold
And commit voluntary death
As though
Life were shit
And holding
On to it
Was not as bold
As leaving it
“Quit writing” they shout
Calling poetry old
I turn
And return
To typing away my soul
Mumbling only
“I have to feed the hole”

Day after day
Week into next
I write about love
I write about death
And the rain pours
It leaks through the walls
They want the main idol down
And won’t stop
Until He falls
Broken and twisted
His words spoken
(You missed it)
Down in the heart
Down in the soul
I turn
To return
To the simplest of a goal
I mumble alone:
“I have to feed the hole”

As the years
Go past
And the writing doesn’t last
All of my love
Of creating and meaning and growing stronger
Are lost
To a man no longer
A man
That no one would name
Living on a life support machine
Eyes back and forth
A poet no more
And old
Life has taken it’s toll
Mumbling to himself
“I have to feed the hole”

Leave The Poem Out

Leave the poem out
Like a sore wiener in the sun
And come
To fights
To the end where the meaning of the poem is done
And the error rights
Love and run
Trying to shove everything I’ve ever wanted to write into one line
One time
One height
Blasting at the rhyme and trying again
To time
Too spoiled too tight
In tights
So that I don’t write blind
And fall behind
In likes
Nord The Poet
Who also writes

The Meaning

I gave the meaning out
Like cards from a full deck
And the people
With voids for hearts
Didn’t even check
They thought me charming
They thought me all wishing
They thought me a “Man Of God”
But I was a magician
I threw the purpose all up the wall
So that what would stick
Would be seen
And all my error
Would secretly fall
I punched the center of the ground
And began to vomit
All lies
All YouTube comments
I gave the meaning out
Like a purpose riddled with doubt
But cleaner
And more happier
Then voids for hearts
Going without

I Went To Church

I went to church
Looking for someone to fuck me
I broke my face
And became ugly
I saw the pastor
My soul went down the toilet in the restroom
I went to church
Looking all over the faces for one woman green
To give me completely my meaning
And marry
For her a son to carry
And then break apart
And go back to art


You can’t write poems
So you grow a garden
You’re not a poet
Not even an artist
You can’t write poems
You gave it a shot
And did bad
Now you just feel like living your life
And feeling sad
You can’t write poems
So you watch the paint dry
Nothing is true
So you might as well not express
That you must die
Or that you don’t have purpose
And can’t answer why
You can’t write poems
So you put the gun to your own head
They find your body under the stairs
With empty pages
Of unwritten poems
How you felt and why you left unsaid

I Keep Cracking On The Wheel

I put the
Pain away to enlighten you
For the pain
Would black me out
And there would be no me
In the words
I keep floating
And flapping
Like a flightless bird
Down the center symmetric
Like a hit
Of something electric
I keep packing away how I feel
I keep mashing my dreams
I keep cracking on the wheel

I slam the door
To feelings
No more
In the daylight it would look right
In the sun
It would be the right answer
But now
In this dream
Now in this life – it is a cancer
I drive the feelings
Into rebuttal
And kill the light to write with shadows
So subtle
I am tracking the real
Braining myself with words
I keep stacking the meals
I keep opening up
I keep cracking on the wheel

I feel the resonance of life
Millions of years ancient
To start
I cave
No longer willing
No longer patient
I can’t express a damn thing without rapport
Without a subject
Without someone to write to
I keep lacking the ability to kneel
I keep breaking apart
I keep slacking on the real
I keep torturing myself
I keep cracking on the wheel

A Show Off

A bit of a show off
I come bitching about TV
Why do you watch that shit
Get on the computer
And read me
A bit of an art bully
I shove a big paint brush into your hand
You keep opening your mouth
To ask
About how to start
And I slide a glass of water towards you and give you a painful slap
And put a canvas
Straight up your ass
Demanding you do art