voices from white trash

There​ ​they​ ​were
standing​ ​face​ ​to​ ​face.
Sometimes​ ​she​ ​sees​ ​the​ ​echos​ ​of​ ​them
The​ ​fighting​ ​and​ ​fucking​ ​and​ ​pills
Before​ ​the​ ​isms​ ​took​ ​them​ ​both
They​ ​are​ ​children​ ​again
Eating​ ​sickly​ ​ripe​ ​mulberries
Carefully​ ​perched​ ​on​ ​the​ ​lowest​ ​limb
The​ ​bells​ ​of​ ​the​ ​laughter
At​ ​the​ ​treasure​ ​found
new​ ​each​ ​day
Such​ ​sweet​ ​delights
Spring​ ​days​ ​on​ ​front​ ​porches
Watching​ ​the​ ​western​ ​sky
Eyes​ ​like​ ​telescopes
Seeing​ ​the​ ​storm​ ​coming​ ​in
The​ ​sweet​ ​smell​ ​of​ ​rain​ ​and​ ​hail
Watching​ ​lightning​ ​strike​ ​over​ ​mesquite​ ​trees
The​ ​thunder​ ​ripping​ ​through​ ​flesh
Those​ ​days​ ​when​ ​all​ ​she​ ​was​ ​was​ ​a​ ​guardian
A​ ​protector​ ​a​ ​mother
Wiping​ ​the​ ​tears​ ​from​ ​her​ ​dirty​ ​cheeks
Doing​ ​the​ ​best​ ​she​ ​could
Fist​ ​bawled​ ​and​ ​wet​ ​with​ ​sweat
​ ​ready​ ​to​ ​take​ ​on​ ​the​ ​world
For​ ​just​ ​the​ ​two​ ​of​ ​them
Those​ ​faces​ ​now​ ​are​ ​distorted
Gnarled​ ​and​ ​calloused
They​ ​are​ ​old​ ​and​ ​worn​ ​down
Too​ ​many​ ​fights
Too​ ​many​ ​fucks
Too​ ​many​ ​pills
Too​ ​many​ ​isms
Too​ ​many​ ​phobias
Love​ ​forgotten
Deeds​ ​lost
Decadent​ ​loathing​ ​is​ ​all​ ​that​ ​is​ ​left
Fists​ ​flying​ ​toward​ ​faces​ ​and​ ​torsos
Words​ ​hurling​ ​through​ ​the​ ​air
Always​ ​catastrophic
Always​ ​climatic
They​ ​will​ ​never​ ​see​ ​each​ ​other​ ​again
Until​ ​they​ ​do


one too many slaps to the face

i might be broken….

i might have just done wrong

who knows…

the yelling

the fighting

the shaking

it gets old

decades and decades

bucket-fulls of promises

oceans full of lies

i have been tumbling down the stairs

head over heels

heels over head

dress flying up

and no panties on

the degradation of my sensibilities

high power erosion to das über-ich & das es

quite reminiscent of  a study in theory

good ol’ sigmund’s wet dream

a modern day greek tradgedy of familial replacements

my dad, your mom, chaos, tears, too little time

rock and roll, psychoanalysis

addictions replacing masturbation

i am tired

worn thin

and too fat

i don’t know how to care today

i don’t know how to not give a shit

somehow you are in my nature

but so is a love for whiskey, beer and opiates

i have harnessed myself, purged and detoxed

sometimes it comes down to the soul-search

scattergories of lifetime examination

then ceremonious purification by fire

naughty naughty, wretched

the stench of your desperation

permeates the air

such a suffocating disposition

queen of the queers in little-pond, nowhere

setting fire to my intellectual property

howling, cackling laughter, shrills of delight

for every tear that broke from my eyes

finding the debasing of my reputation

delectably, delightfully, delicious

you are visible to me, the way you are

the honeyed voice and feigned compassion

cuddle huddle with those i love

and whisper in their ear tiny rips in reality

until the picture is a cheap fuck

big red lips snarled in a bitch smile

you have your whores at your feet

the creme de la creme of human garbage

the risk to the lives of others

will never be equal to a photo-op

turning people away

forcing what you deem right

onto the backs of the isolated

you are the worst sort of damned

the shadow-dweller, the gutter rat

when did you sell your humanity

or was that something that never existed

you and your concubines, your big-wig way

one day the imaginary zen will disappear

and the foul monster born to your parents

will leave you writhing and screaming

the thought brings me comfort and sweet dreams

always hold onto the helium balloon

every minute ticked by


like a strung out snail

a turtle on heroin-time

looking through windows

at the lives of others

shivering and shaking

as they drank their swiss miss

from over-sized mugs

smelling of beets, patchouli and other organics

rosey cheeked fuckers with cream-like chins

dancing sparkling eyes and the proper bmi

every smile of delight made me shrink

the definition of me

lay solely

in the definition of they

but that ain’t life, man

the human being isn’t built

for the rat race

i stored my morals in my pocket

i pulled them out or tucked them in

depending on the who’s what’s when’s why’s where’s

the nouns and verbs of the situation

the only thing that can grow in nothing

is nothing

and that is all i was


and it’s too much to be nothing where you need to be anything but

so i charted and planned and catered

i was going out like a rocket ship and not a child’s balloon

then it was amazing

the most amazing of graces

there was a smile and a greeting

that was it…..

when there is a pair of nothings

you have something

and shit

that is a something to fucking believe in

we keep the door open

the light is on

and the fire is lit

there is bread out and cheeses

always look for warm drinks in winter and ice when the sun is high

everyone is someone

everything is something

in this place we are a band of miscreant ex-nothings creating a grand circus of delight

snow white is an alien and dopey is everyone’s favorite dwarf

how does it feel to relinquish
to let go and dive into pools
pools of joyful ignorance
pools of infant arrogance
to forget care and caution
to reject compassion and consequence
to be foolishly unremorseful and gluttonous
if simplicity were a gown, surely it would be lace and lamé
i would adorn myself in it daily
i do not want riches or royalty
i do not want to be powerful
i want to listen to music
without instruments, just technology
i want to appreciate the plight
of not being able to find a bitch to fuck
i want to wear nike and not care about the warehouses
i would love to find prefab premade processed food
in bags in boxes on shelves in stores and not read the ingredients
i want to not know the side-effects of monosodium glutamate
to never see a fantasy re-enactment of the process and production
“partially defatted fatty tissue-the musical”
i want to be blind to mc-ee-d’s and their magical meat
the bread that will never mold and a crypt of special sauce
i want an orange tan from a can and curly locks from a box
i want an over-sized-hot-wheel sports utility vehicle
to cruise around in listening to fake music
talking shit with my fake friends about the other fake friends
and eating my two number 4’s
and not giving a damn about the enviroment
or the slavery or the repercussions or the oppression
but there are some of us born with the burden of this
we see in every action the possible and probable reactions
we know footsteps handshakes and bad business deals create tsunamis
and therefore we must always be burdened with forethought
there can be no shrugging off responsibility
it finds us like a mangy dog no one wants to pet
it haunts our dreams and our moments in restrooms
screams of the tortured past present and future
create tumors in our bodies and minds
we do not need meetings and diplomacy
we do not need figures and graphs
when we see wrong we do, we act, we verb
because humanity must be humane
we know our silence is consent

cotton candy and destruction

the whispers

words so soft

floating music

tales and lunacy

i remember days

i called you friend

before the pomp

before the lies

before the malice

i remember me

cage battles with bigots

but that is not all

i remember much more

screams with no sound

fear of my name

i remember

my soul cold and wet

accusations without merit

abominable destruction

a wrecking ball

smashing all i know

turning truth into dust


the pain

the humiliation

the shunning

between us

there is no hate

there is no love

there is too much loss

and too many boggarts

i do hope you find

sanctuary and refuge

the stones you gathered

and distributed

thrown with expert precision

killing much

damaging more

still covered in my naivety

are heavy in the palms

of those who you once called friend

human body is about 60% water and it talks to the sea

the lightening flashes and the thunder smashes

when living my life like this i am stirring a fire forgotten

a living entity inside my body once thought to be dead

you guard me and wake that feral part in my being

it’s the cry of the valkyrie

with those chosen fearless and brave

the climatic escape from the battlefield then to valhalla

out of breath

gasping and clenching

eyes wild and furious

shirt pulled over my head

the resl-new decor for old dwellings

feet tangled in the headboard

hands lost in tangles of hair

the mindless madness

pleading desperation pain of possibilities

can overthrow and compromise

even the best of planned events

but nobody dies a with a smile when they are too afraid to live

the screaming

the fighting

the turmoil

tears and sobs

just reactions

there are times it is the pain of war

the pit of the mind as dark as the sea

it is the call of something before light

before noise

the sound of genesis

a sorrow so demanding we must exercise it

before it consumes the lot of us

there are times the light shines so bright

with such joy

no sun can compare

it is on those days i would like to call god and all the gods before and after

a joyous occasion

to celebrate the beauty that glistens in the holiest of purity

but my love for you

is an unbridled tornado chasing cars under bridges

it is the unexpected rainbow in the east and west

the taste of fresh honey

they tell me i was alive before that night

it seems ages, lifetimes ago

seeing you laugh

the true beauty of life in your smile

no sunset compares

smoking a cigarette in shadows with whispers and the cold wind biting

standing on the front porch

tears streaming like rivers watching you go

silently sobbing and pleading

to any forces listening to see you again

my aces finally came through

my truth shook and shimmied


the big bang in all it’s glory and splendor is a flicker in a closet

the universe was created in your eyes

conception began in your touch

seeing your head back and shimmering laughter

i know what formed stars

your sadness is the cry of a lost child

your tears forming clear pools

a cleansing

you are a raindrop in a drought

giving life to the earth to start again

you are rebirth