Tag Archives: Poetry

angels are

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oh I feel that crazy

a’creepin on me

things are gettin hazy

gettin hard to see

 

oh I feel that satan

tryna tell me wrong

that fella’s good at talkin

sings a pretty song

 

oh I feel that hatred

swallowin my guts

fight what’s on the inside

that’s how you go nuts

 

there’s a way

a door, a door

but I can’t find

the way no more

 

fuck my inhibitions

fuck my childhood too

fuck my gentle nature

do what sadists do

today we kill

tomorrow we maim

this week we bomb

a people train

let’s be the best

at being worse

we’re nothing but

live liverwurst

to shoot to score

to be a whore

to live to die

don’t fucking cry

it’s only another few days mama

we’ve only got this to behave mama

we can’t escape we are slaves mama

we’re children of angels

cuz angels are good

and angels are bad

and angels are–

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mental Health

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I have tools at my disposal

To keep my house happy

Good for trimming overgrowth that presses against the house

Or repairing damage from the environment.

That one is good for sawing down trees that might work their roots under.

This one helps me patch holes in the walls.

This glue prevents things from falling to pieces.

This paint keeps it cheerful and waterproof.

If I spray the house often, I keep the bugs out.

Moisture is inevitable, but it shouldn’t damage,

And it’s most important to keep the bugs out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To make a friend

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How exactly do you

make

a friend?

Out of the thin air

Out of the faceless crowds

You pick someone

Then come

Delicate first efforts

Some texts, some calls, some online discourse

Soon you can get a little closer

No sudden movements

Don’t scare them off

Feed them frequently

Small gifts

Eventually they trust you enough

To let you into their house

Hug them whenever you want

Get drunk together

Go for nothing drives

Drop by uninvited.

You don’t make a friend.

You tame one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Measuring in Decades

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The older I get

The more time me stretches out behind me

Once I measured my life in weeks

Now I measure in decades.

That milestone, ten years ago

This one fifteen.

I once lived a whole lifetime in fifteen years.

Now I’ve lived two.

Time is a funny thing

It starts out slow

And if you’re not careful

It picks up speed

Like a freight train

Before you know it

You run out of track

So put on the brakes.

Breathe

Savor

And measure

This living moment

In seconds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

under the drill

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Gadzooks! I forgot to post this morning!

 

 

the dentist

drills to shave the edge off my crown

raw

agony

blooms

I take myself away.

Relax into the pain.

everything I have learned

from years of dysmenorrhea

comes instantly into play.

Relax.

Relax more.

it’s that or wriggle

and you best not wriggle

under the drill.

it’s not very sensitive, is it? he says.

nooo… that hurt. I reply

and we all have a good laugh.

 

how strange we humans are.

how trusting.

 

I open my mouth again

and let him do it

ten more times.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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