Tuesday, November 3, 2015


...I wrote poetry today.  These (I think "Bullies" is my favorite):


That broken bottle in your hand
Looks a lot like me
Eighteen and angry
Too much useless sunshine
The summer’s endless reach
A noose around my neck
Home no option
Only alleys and freeways
Places to unwind and wither
You should
Look at yourself right now
Pull out a mirror
Or find your reflection in
What’s left of that bottle
Realize that if anything
You don’t want to grow up
Swollen with regret
Misery eating you whole
Like your old man


But you think
What if it’s true
The things they say
The labels, slurs and insults
Texts on your phone
At school
On the bus
Everywhere you look

But you think
What if you fight back
With some ranting of your own
Throw some hateful darts their way
Or buy some guns
Go all Columbine
Make them pay
What then

Or what if you simply
Tuck your chin and dart your eyes
Take it
Every hurtful word
Swallow it down like you have
Every minute of
Every day
For the last three years

Or perhaps you take that one guy’s advice
And do it
Kill yourself
Like he said to
It’d be easier that emptying the trash
Yes, that would be
A major accomplishment all right
And possibly you’d feel
Better when you’re dead

But maybe you think
There’s another way
What if you found a friend
A mom
A dad
What if you allowed yourself
To crumble inside their embrace
Just this once be vulnerable
Tell them what’s going on
What you’re up against
What if you did that instead
Wouldn’t that be a pretty good option


Is it warm where you are
Is there fresh fruit and linen sheets
Do the mornings make you feel special
Like a princess
Who is the one who makes your tea now
Is he handsome and well-built
An athlete or scholar
Your best friend and secret-keeper
Does your laughter still shake the walls
And do you still mumble to yourself
When you’re nervous
Has my dog stopped missing me
Has the stain of my imprint worn off in the rain
Is there ever a time in the day
When you wonder how I’m doing
And if I think of you
You always claimed I asked too many questions
Do you still think so
Is it fair for you to go your own way
While I’m still tethered to the past
Like a junkyard dog
No longer angry
Just desperate and very
Very lonely

Climate Change

But really
There is no moon
The dogs have all left their masters
And the assassins keep missing their mark
In the wink of the last few stars
We find the guilty party
Our names written there
With the high tide
The oceans swelling
Whole cities sinking
While watch complicit
Congratulating ourselves
On having had
A pretty good run


There is proof somewhere
That you once loved me--
Pawnshop ring for sale
Record of an unwanted fetus
Prom pictures with big 80’s hair
Blood on the sand
The surf coming in
Loud and violent.
But I’m doing all right now
The warden is friendly enough
And this cell’s going to keep
Me safe from you

For years

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