Beat Yourself Up

The poem, that I planned to write, "The scariest thing to you is a Buddhist sand painting.
The scariest thing to me is the abominable snow-man from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,
I dare not say his name."


Mary-Anne asked, "You know you're both of them, right?"

"I do." I say.

I remember telling you I would post this twice, so... Yes, you were so right about emoticons, yes, you were right about my grammar. The memories of you writing over my shoulder and hearing your voice, sharing these words, no matter at what time I write them... I love this and you more than absolutely anything.



"And, I always will," we both say. I can't imagine anything better than you.

What I Shouldn't Have Sent

Isn't there anybody as lonely as me?
And for no reason at all
or so it seems.

What's Worth Risking It All For

You could be anywhere
doing anything
and it's still the best thing in the world.
That's love:
Any time,
any place.

Scientifically Observed Through Art

You can't know this secret, about women and words, well enough,
you'll never win a woman's heart with words alone
and so romantic poetry is a work of desperation from tormented men.
But, it is this desperation where the true style of romance is found:
It's an attempt, a gesture, that brings levity (and peace) at someones expense
and maybe it's theirs and maybe it's yours but it's always for her.
(Doubt and) torment won't be something you can win over either,
only something you can avoid
(if you're a coward that is.)

Hopeless Sky

I died
when I realized
I'd signed my heart over to too many people
and there wasn't enough love to give them all.
Love isn't strong enough
to pull itself back to its beginnings
and so it gets thinner and thinner in a massive finite space.
As above,
no below.

My Rewards

My life is lived without a woman's treasures.
My bravery only earns me the reassuring smiles,
caresses, laughs, and kisses of women.
Only moments loved against moments unloved.

Voyeur in the Presence of Strangers

Like a virgin's blood,
like a phoenix rising from it's nest,
like Disney:
Magical, bitch.

Death Became Her

Her eyebrows raised slightly, lips parted, eyelids lifted, and she drew a breath that could be heard for what seemed an eternity.

An Incomplete Something

I couldn't remember her name.
It was exotic and it rolled off the tongue easily
and just as easily was lost, still somewhere but forgotten.
We didn't really remember to use a rubber either.
It's a good thing bad Catholics do believe in abortion.
She told me what she would have named it.
What did she say again?

An Afternoon in a Plane

A man is unflinching.
A woman is death.
A girl is looking.
A boy is lost.
Always....

A Bar That Only Serves Snacks

I've been looking at your tan legs between shots and they remind me of orange chicken. I want to bite them now that you're siting beside me with your car idling and playing with your cell phone online. You should be on me, toes in my mouth, fingers in you.
Maybe I'm just a little hungry now that my fridge is empty.

I'm No Joke

Not a dollar

of my own,

on the flipside

I'm unknown.

SNL on DVD

It's so damn sad watching women,
of years long since past,
singing and dancing in their prime;
to know, those well sexed bodies could never meet mine.
I sit with an erection and quietly keep watching.

Old Lamp Post

Watching channel Disney,
to escape her movements, her eyes watching mine.
Her father in the room down the hallway.
Bobbing shadows,strawberry red wine dancing on my thighs
mixed with a blue TV glow. I won't let go and disappoint her.
Endlessly, tirelessly, she goes on and then with a pause she says,
'I know what I can do...'

I Hear it From Ohio

Men like me are
a dieing breed.
Death is normal to us,
it's understood.
Understanding it helps suffocate the fear
but the fear only dies with you;
when a piece of you dies or the puzzle comes apart.
No matter how my heart stops, it's true,
it will. And, it's not easy to know,
we're so fragile when we face the truth.
So alone in a crowded room.

A Note from a 14th Century Stead Holder to a 21st Century Stewardess

"O', I know the secrets
that will keep these young men young
and strong
but will I ever tell them?
Hell no!
Every other man is an enemy of mine
and let him die upon a stake
while I pass upon
the completely crafted cross."
So, spake the unknown poet,
another mystery of history
who's gone and done.

She Traced My Bones Like a Necrophiliac

In the depths of remoteness
from her land
and now her man
who pulled at her strings nearby,
I saw her swelling
worried smile.
So I watched
and all the while
she made it hard
for her man
not to twist
and wind her up into his hands.
She lifted her skirt
and I watched her shamelessly,
tending to her supple thighs,
when not transfixed
by coal burnt eyes.
And there inside
those coal burnt eyes
lay on her side
a mother,
daughter,
and a bride
undressed and writhing throughout time.
Her flirting,
fucking,
drinking wine.

My Dearest Apprentice

Taste the bat shit she left on her face.
Catch the disease from a junglous cave.
Watch the metal cage
pin down her taut breasts.
She wants you to cum and leaves you no rest.

Privately Shared

When you can't remember
your lover's face in detail
but you can picture the color of her painted nails.
And, the way she smells,
you couldn't quite tell
another person what it's like but
it's hers.
It's undeniably her.
It's hers and it's yours
alone.