Tuesday, September 01, 2009

Thumb Poetry: Shroom fag

A good hit
Tells you that
There is no
Real, sweet escape
From the present.

It is appalling
When it hits,
Because there is
That hit that
Does bow out.

I dropped ashes
On the floor
Like a baby.
Someone has to
Clean that up.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Thumb Poetry: White wine

Ecstasy is
Five pounds away
At the cornerstore,
Bottled in rows
Of stinky liquid.

You can stand
Next to yourself
Until there is
Nobody to stand
Next to left.

Sadly, this makes
Grammar studies
Impossibly difficult,
And most things
That require selves.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Thumb Poetry: Women

Lost interest in
The little worlds
Girls create
And women try
To escape.

It must be
The time of year.
Nights grow long
And solitude
More inviting.

Maybe I'm ripe
For the picking.
Fermenting fruit
Tend to perk
Ready appetites.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Thumb Poetry: Bully

It is easy
To get bullied
Into thinking
Apathy necessary.
(Empty line)

Bullied into
Thinking about
The absurdity
Of being bullied
Into apathy.

And finding
Salvation meshed
With porous faith,
Always unable
To kick free.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Thumb Poetry: Woodcock

Words made dear
By laying samples
Of one atop
Another and other
Over and over.

Repeat and repeat
(Smoke a scented
Cigarette again),
And repeat again.
Find any clarity.

A hedonistic
Greco-Roman
Practice, this.
Done it since
My eyes opened.

Mom said this
Will ruin them.
Be it so.
Less distractions
To overcome.

Thursday, July 02, 2009

Thumb Poetry: Afternoon tea

A warm look
At signs of
Well wasted youth
Has tougher men
Thirsty for drink.

Finished pleasing
Others, the self,
And the needs
Of no-one
In particular.

The plot lost
In the circuitous
Time of work,
Two feet dangling
Above a future.

It's all set
For the taking
Or discarding.
I'll talk myself
Into it first.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Thumb Poetry: And oils

The habits of sharks
This mad cannot
But steal attention
From all the lines
They have swallowed.

A slaughterhouse
On a cliffside
That throws shit
Into the ocean
Where be monsters.

Produce goes in
One end and out
The other and
The rest goes
To these dogs.

They will eat up
Whatever you want.
That doesn't mean
You should open
Your big mouth.