Titular Title

I've been listening to a lot of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds lately, and I've definitely been a bit more inspired because of them. It's pretty obvious in this piece, which has gone through no revision whatsoever, much like all of my other stuff.

Micheal's Quest

Micheal was a meek man of twenty-three
he seemed to be fresh off the funny farm
by the way he walked with a mean twist in his hip
down the sidewalk to the local dollar store

there, he'd stumble through the aisles
his hand guiding him along knock-off
brand chocolate-flavored candies
until he'd arrive at a suitable three-liter bottle of orange soda

he'd grab the bottle with both hands and
make his way to Mindy
she was always behind the register
when he was there

with her dolled-up fat face and her grey
hair, her eyelids blue with glitter
and her lips would drip with pink lipstick
and she'd muster all the love she had left to give
and ask little Mikey, “Is that all?”
It always was.

Micheal was never much for small talk
or, for that matter, nutrition
he'd drip a greasy hand into his sweatpants pocket
and fish out one dollar fifty

after the bag rip incident a few years back
he'd always ask for double plastic bags
so his precious life syrup would never spill onto
the crosswalk and spray his eyes again

he really loved orange soda, but you see,
he'd prefer to see as he
walked the quarter-mile home
switching the bags from hand to hand

and when he'd stop outside his door
he'd sit on the steps and open his bottle
and Micheal, not planning on sharing
would drink straight from the bottle

he'd sit and drink from the three-liter bottle
until it was empty
and his stomach couldn't manage to keep it all in
and he'd vomit on himself.

Serious(ly shitty) Haiku

I know haiku are not supposed to be subjective, but I came up with these while peeling potatoes at my dead-end job, and I was feeling a bit like a cog.

1.
The chickens who scratch
at barnyard dirt for thrown corn
scratch for bigger beasts

2.
We are pigeons flocked
to open food waste dumpsters
praying for french fries

3.
Drunk man remembers
debauchery of the night
mad-dash to restroom

4.
Potato peeler
small specks of ground on his hands
thinks: "my lot in life"

Put that in the Books!

He booked it.
He booked it through tree leaves
and vacant streets.
He booked it by sinking seas
and heavy, rising Gs.
He booked it with both feet
slamming on blank sheets of open space
without hearing his steps
or seeing his compass.
Without legends to follow.
Without boots to make his descent
more comfortable,
to avoid dead grass and weeds
stabbing his feet.
He booked it.
He booked it in hotel rooms
where the smell of clean sheets
only hid the stains
from plain view.
He booked it in fifth gear
through freeway traffic.
He booked it until his truck could
no longer corner and screamed,
"I give up!" as it rolled over
and over and over.
"It's over! Come out
with your hands up!"

Punk Rock Bought It

Displace space,
beats disgrace place
and time, face
climb. Nut case,
fist raised to
chase disgrace.
Change the bass
line, up tempo pace.
Beats laced, chimed,
faced, climbed, raised.
Change the bass.
Up tempo pace.
Up tempo pace.
UP TEMPO PACE.
It’s a volume race,
and yours is no disgrace.

See me breathe

See me breathe
in 70 degree weather,
fog to split sunbeams
that hit me
with every color.
Frozen prism breath
protects me from UVs
with ice-beams,
no heat penetrating
You’re shivering.
Should I be sorry?

Bells for Youth

Are you dancing to your dirge?
Digging your toes in the wet dirt?
Claws cut, disrupt
Visceral function, drained.
Take your spectre,
skin graft, machinery.
Take your deaf night
and dance away the junction.

Flies don't stick to etched glass.

Spiders etched their webs
onto windows
with hopes that the sunlight
would make their lives bright.
They crawled on glass,
once sand,
and used lazers to
stake their claim.
They slid around, but
it was alright;
their lives were bright.
The sunshine illuminated
their hairs and warmed
their bodies.
They danced and crawled and slid
as the rays burnt away any problems
that would arise.
They would never fight;
their lives were bright.
But one by one
they started to die.
They starved and
they fell apart.
Dried-up
exoskeletons
on window seals.
The sunlight
made their lives bright.