Posted in Poems

Validation

I used to get fucked up
on Country Time
Lemonade—some real
1940s drama.

Just like any teen, it was all about validation.

This was when
I was fifteen and went to a place
I think was called Hobo Junction.

Women are
colder there and it’s hard
to find
a good kebab. Maybe if the weather
had been nicer, we could have
had a few
beach days.

It’s a
bit of
a long
ride;

even my dad
won’t make it
nine times
out of ten.

I mean, the trains don’t run
as well as they
say they do.

But I’m the kind of person
to just say:
Fuck it!
and get a rickshaw.

-08.15.17

Posted in Poems

Anger Management

I got really
mad at you—I was doing
it twice a day for weeks.

Running around

with no regard, no
control; am I that
person?

It’s no way to de-stress.

It’s just a really tedious
process for
me, acting like I know everything.

No one,

not even
my mom

(well, of course
they’re a doctor)

really believes
in that kind of stuff.

-08.04.17

Posted in Poems

Growing Pains

Look at

you.

You’re a sweat hog;
you’re a BABY.

A BABY.

You know, you can shop at a different store—
sunglasses are not

appropriate

bus attire.

I got really mad at you,
running around with

no regard, no control
twice a day for weeks.

38 years old and can’t figure out a temporary tattoo.

-07.28.17

 

 

Posted in Poems

Speaking in Tongue

We were talking
about how dreams work or
whatever—talking about eating cod tongue.
It’s tough because ya gotta think, “How’m I gonna do it?

The first thing that came to mind was Fireball.

I wish I had that kind of colour left in my heart.

-07.19.17

Posted in Poems

POV

There are some people that say that Santa Clause is dead;
Garrett and I have a different view of the world.

I want to host a pre-party.      They want to legalize drugs.

Me, I have programs like         It’s really too big for
I have frozen hotdogs in         one person to handle.
my freezer.

-06.24.17

[Sorry mobile users! Thanks to WP’s strange indenting function, this particular piece won’t show up properly on your device!]

Posted in Poems

The Dutch Bourgeois

He gets too
damn focused
on future events;

you can go right off

the deep end

with those.

The Dutch Bourgeois.

He doesn’t even know
what a Hell’s
Angel
looks like.

Oh!

Oh!

That’s the kinda man
I’d settle down
with

and just raw dog it.

-06.12.17