Don’t Know Nothin’

Born from puddles and sun breaks, torn between subtle truths and plumb fakes.

I’ve kissed the earth where the ground shakes, been missed by bullets by pure mistake.

I never really know the stakes except that we die like how stars are made.

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Wordy Birdy

The beauty of relationships is that without them we’re just beasts, foraging for some lost purpose, aimless and alone. We must always be reaching out, pulling close, drifting away, or never letting go, the time we share with those who fuel us is invaluable. Every man, woman and child I’ve ever known, loved or loathed has shaped me into the mad, passionate, strange creature I am today. Methinks my thanks is owed to all those whose paths I’ve soiled, graced, endured, or have been enlightened by.

Still. Distilled and ill, waking abrupt like a plane into a hill.

Still. Searching for answers in a poem, picture or pill,

no solace in the silence of this day as it fills

this one wild moment where it’s love or be killed.

XSA (Exes Anonymous)

Why are there no 12 step programs for broken hearts? Why are there no support groups for those who have discovered their men cheating or for those who love sideways women?

I need a sponsor!

What if I get a call from a lover who will hurt me? What do I do? Watch the phone ring? Answer? Take a screen shot so I can look at it later and wonder why she’s on the other end of the line? And then wonder why I didn’t pick up? What do I do if I’m compelled to call an ex-girlfriend or if can’t help but stalk my ex-boyfriend?

If I had a sponsor I’d call them every time I had the urge to reach out or answer that dark telephone.

I’m going to start an organization that’s dedicated to those who have been hurt or otherwise done wrong by those they loved. We’re going to sit around and smoke cigarettes and drink cheap coffee and tell horrible stories that will make our own experience either seem silly and trivial or it will make our personal hell rival things you’ve only heard about either on bad television or in the bible.

We’ll gather in churches and VFW’s, sitting in circles sharing our damage and tragedies while bonding and banding together, kindred and beautiful, tied together by betrayal and infidelity, solid in our desire to grow and driven by our solidarity to heal.

We realize that our collective strength allows us to take the high road above those who have burned us. Taking our shared experiences and lining them up like the front lines of infantry against what tries to destroy us.

There’s groups for every addiction ever conceived except the one that nearly EVERYONE has experienced: heartbreak.

Heartbreak. When what you believed to be something untouchable becomes fondled or distorted, when what seemed to be indestructible crumbles by someone’s actions or by the hand of nature, when what you believed to be true and beautiful turns into something soiled and worthless.

Heartbreak. When the pain in your chest is real, like someone is stepping on your neck while you’re just trying to get through the day, when every thought in your head is about your love that is now no longer your love…for whatever reason. When it permeates every fiber of your flesh and marrow, when it dictates your dreams and destroys your reality…heartbreak ain’t no joke. It’s thrown people off deadly ledges, driven them to dire, violent destruction (yet has inspired the most beautiful of art, music and poetry…) Weird.

Exes Anonymous. Please. For the sake of your sanity and our safety. Come visit. You don’t have to share, you just have to show up. We’ll be there, stinky with bad drip and cigarettes but ready to embrace. Pathetic yet empathetic, shaking hands and shaking our heads, weeping while stories are exhumed from devastated spirits, fighting the urge to lash out or stalk our XSO’s, talking each other down from ledges of rash and emotional destructive decisions…

Exes Anonymous. We’re Here For You Because We’re Barely Here For Ourselves. Rarely Here For Ourselves.

XSA. One Day At A Time.

Red Eyes and Jedis

Oh my vices! Devilish devices! Senseless in a crisis! Feed my voracity with dirty audacity and drown my throat like Dionysus.

Bore me out with all the desire my soul can hold. Until it overflows my ears, eyes and nose and I’m nothing but a vessel possessed with the fiend of a ghost, striving to satiate a hunger I stoke.

Once my seams near bursting I recant all the cursing that’s led to this night’s nursing of my wily character and the weakness of its workings.

A gentle revelation opens up my flesh and fury turning this here hunger into clear and nascent theories, making certain my hedonistic head relishes in discovery.

Introspection doesn’t come easy for some. Takes balance. “Mourn them do not. Attachment leads to jealousy. Search your feelings. Anger, fear, aggression, the dark side are they.”

My grin truly is from ear to shining ear.

I could totally hug someone right now.

Say Hello To Hydrocodone’s Little Friend

the early needle gets the voice
to somehow stop the stammer

warm salty itch
with soft television
never knowing which
sun has set or risen

the early needle poised and moist
delivers us from clamor

nausea
camphor and precision
moments tally years
round porcelain prisons

hand of doom whose noose is hoist
rises quiet like a hammer

mother comfort’s rapt decisions
only turns to damn her.

Silly Poemerino

Last night I had a wild hair and as I leapt from my chair I spilled my Aussie vino

Been here a year and the end is soon near so I might be back home wearing khakis and chinos

Economy is stanking while jobs have been tanking but I’m feeling like Vinnie Barbarino

So I took a jalopy out for some coffee then rode some scotch whiskey to the bank and casino

Drank till I spun and spent the dizzy dawn on san pellegrino watching every roulette spin lose like Dan Marino

I’m returning to the states and planning to create a fortune amassed from racing El Caminos or waiting tables at a Denny’s in Redding, Barstow or Reno

Hoping the downturn turns up so I can buy ketchup and fritos but instead I’ll be in line for federal funderinos.