Wednesday, May 14, 2014

The t.v. flickers
just west
of where
the hollow heart
and breaks

Blood stained carpets shed

across moonlight whispers wept 
too late-

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

It begins in solitude at 3 am
When drum rolled thoughts
beat against
moments grown long,
and moments forgetting

When the zzquil kicks in
and shreds away on the
mattress where you lay,
like clowns without sound-
Clowns without music.

Those moments not mentioned
when you finally get it
and there’s nobody there
in the kitchen to witness--
It is in solitude at 3 am,
It is,
   and the motherfucker 
always wins.

Trailer Park Boys

They should have saved more time
for reflections in the mirror,
but leisure hours passed
with their tongues hung up in bottles
licking smoke and sailing on
towards a castle made of stank
and day old booze.

They were insects displayed on a pin-
exposed, helpless and unable to explain themselves,
but concealed their worries with clown trickery-
Drowning their calamities
in a kiddy pool filled 
with Captain Morgan 
and hillbilly blues.

You should have seen it, the place was a mess-
Empty cans thrown into sinks,
cigarette butts floating lifelessly
Posters that read: “Keep calm. Get your redneck on” 
stood staring back at me,
 like a bad song 
forever on repeat.

I remember the voices like the back of my hand
and the music from a farther room.
I know the eyes already
 like they were my own
because I almost felt they were
I almost felt this place was a part of my heart
But it flickered and ached when not around.

The trailer park should have been
our worst of times,
coated in ignorance and a wall of shame-
But it wasn’t
and it was
and it was all so beautiful
either way you look at it.

So long as society
remains transfixed
on money, and success
we will forever construct a mess
of who we are
and ought to be.

I long for more primitive days~
Earth beneath my feet.

Come down from your spinning head
And busy bees of human dread
There's much more to offer
Like Pocahontas said,
"Just around the river bend"