July 6, 2009

Your Sex

Your sex is scared
to go home
of what lies behind darkened doorways
where you decide to divulge
those undercover secrets
those under the cover regrets
where you tell me I am the best
but when your not lying
I am one of those regrets

Your sex is a windup toy
with no off switch
are you ever turned off bitch?
you gitter / shake / jive
stick your ass in the air
like I stuck quarters in a slutty pinball machine
and its giving me extra play

Your sex is a pair of new leather shoes
the creases have not formed yet
and neither have the crack
your just not as sexy
once I have you on your back
because your uncomfortable
you need a little wearing
my feet are too wide
and I don't want your sex by my side

Your sex is a house cat
always in the way
swinging your tail in front of the TV screen
when i am reading
you brush your head on me
scratching my leg
saying cum play with me

Your sex is a punk rock show
punched in the face
dizzy, spinning, disorientation
but when I cum too
I realize it was an empty escape
with your loud vocals
and face paint
your a sexual circus side show
and the next time your in town
I am not going to go

Your sex is a boxing match
and I forgot the combination
to knock your G-Spot out
do I jab jab left
and hook with the right
use my tongue to upper cut and stop the fight

Your sex is a pre-made frozen hamburger patty
from Costco
it tastes really good
when I am drunk and high and haven't fucked in a week
but when I read the ingredients
on the inside of your label
i don't know if I am going to be able
to keep down all your baggage *vomit*

Your sex is a pack of Marlboro Light's
easy to stick in a pocket
until your name buzzes on my phone again

Your sex is the last beer in the fridge
at the end of a lonely twelve pack
that I drink because I have already
made it this far
might as well push this
as far as it might go
on this San Francisco night

Your sex is a taxi cab outside my window
never waiting
but always
just around the corner.

May 7, 2009

Glorious Dope

wild angels
shimmer silhouettes like music

instrument pain
sculpt joy

drug rhythms entitle
absurd empty sense of grace

Reqium For My Grandmother

i got high
my grandmother is in the hospital again
the third, 4th, fif5h ?... time
they scare me...the blood//death//needles//gloves//bedpans

my grandmother is in the hospital again
they scare her too ...
the blood//death//needles//gloves//death
she is exceptionally afraid of death

they scare her too
when they put an IV in her neck, arm veins collapsed
she is exceptionally afraid of death
her eyes welled with tears

when they put an IV in her neck; her arm veins had collapsed
she stared at ... me
her eyes welled with tears
because her youngest son walked out 10 minutes ago

she stares at me
because i’m here//i’m family;
because her youngest son walked out 10 minutes ago
left the hospital for home

because i’m here// i’m family
the third, 4th, fif5h ?... time
left the hospital for home:
i got high again.

I Miss Your Dick

This is a cut-up of Miley Sirus' "I Miss You" and Mickey Avalon's "My Dick"

You used to call me your angle
said I was sent straight down from heaven
you’d hold me close in your arms,
I loved the way your dick felt so strong
I never wanted your dick to leave
I wanted your dick to stay here holding me
I miss your dick,
I missed your dick when it went straight to DVD
I still shed a tear that your dick got the HIV.
Every once in a while your dick still stinks like shit
and even though it’s different now,
you dick is at half-staff, it needs work.
Your dick is still here somehow.
My dick, sick and dangerous, wont let you go
I need your dick to know,
I miss your dick fruit roll-up,
sha la la la
I miss your dick.

You used to call my dick good good lovin
and now I am living out my dick- ‘nuff said.
Oh I wish your dick could see it looks like a munchkin,
everything that is happening for my dick is pretty damn skippy.
I am thinking my dick parts the seas
and it is true that my dick is grade-A-beef.
I miss your dick, quick and painless
I miss your dick and it don’t even function,
and I still shed a tear
your dick looks like Macauly Culkin.
Every once in a while
my dick don’t fit down the chimney
and your dick is still here somehow.
My dick is like an M16
but I need your dick to know
I miss your dick – hungry as a hippy
sha la la la
I miss your dick.

I know your dick is in a better place
but I wish you could see my dick serve a whole luncheon.
I know where your dick needs to be,
even though it is not with my dick, pink and big.
I miss your dick
I miss your dick
I still shed a tear
my heart wont let you go
but I need you to know,
we got dicks like Jesus;

I miss your dick.

International Woman

My cock is a country with a comprehensive economic plan.

It Has Boundaries


China – though beautiful – we will not trade tongues
Scandinavia – sweetheart – we will not swap saliva
Amsterdam – oh Amsterdam – I will not purchase your pussy
Ireland – you will not barter with my balls

It Has Boundaries

Boundaries more substantial than
the imaginary line,
slightly representative of a mountain range,
running just below your waist;
creating no man’s land right above your clit.

It Has Boundaries

Thicker than the boundaries wrapped in foil squares.

My cock sets up soul distribution
as to not complicate business.

It Has Boundaries


China – though beautiful – we will not trade tongues
Scandinavia – sweetheart – we will not swap saliva
Amsterdam – oh Amsterdam – I will not purchase your pussy
Ireland – you will not barter with my balls:

because my cock
is a country
with a comprehensive
economic plan.

March 1, 2009

The Neighborhood

The revolution started because of a
polar bear costume rented by a Dog who
believed the rebirth of our nation was
held in the hands of a stripper standing in a hurricane
naked and knee deep in Jell-o pudding snacks
falling off the truck of love into the shallow pool
of self-loathing.

This was when the wolves were quiet and Dog’s howled
for a drink that quenches heartache and loneliness
while standing on a broken bar stools
made of kicked wood/cracked leather/worn steel nails,
all this Dog could do to keep from crazy
was to wash his thoughts like the Chinese man washes
his sidewalk.

He purchased an electric leaf blower
for his San Francisco front yard that only needs a rake,
his neighbor bought 25 horsepower lawn mower,
so he ran back to womb of consumerism to buy himself
the biggest most bad ass bitch’n machine
a ride on lawn mower… that he must drive in the streetto
turn around.

That Dog ran under the wheels of a truck,
loaded college students bound for Tijuana
didn’t realize he was committing suicide,
he knew the shinny glass across the street
filled with a cool liquor on a hot desert day
would probably rot his liver but was worth
every risk.

The drunk dog who followed the Marke
holding glasses of scotch/vodka/gin
was buried in a cemetery who advertised
on a stray newspaper at the back of the 38.
The coupon read: Buy one plot get another plot
free (of equal or lesser value) and She decided
to do it.

The girl cried when she found her Dog’s grave
and then the hurricane started ripping through houses,
frightening the neighbor with the lawnmower,
making children question what they do not know
because their innocence is a weather balloon
waiting for the turbine of a jet engine to suck it in,
spiting out confetti to rain down on the masses,
who have not seen innocence since they themselves
were children.

October, San Francisco

I stepped outside my mind,

And found it was sunny

The Gap Between Them & Me

A chubby lawyer walking on market street – (his home) 6 months
= Crazy Charlie on the 28 + the stench of rotting sewer rats – any concept of reality.

A single mother of 3 – the tip you did not leave + credit card bills
= (old tattered Safeway bags + compost bins near resturants) facade of not starving.

[(Track marks) everywhere at Eddy/ Hyde] urinating on yourself
= (dockworkers + a recession) no other options.

Ethnic studies professor – tenure + budget cuts
= waking up to a beautiful sunrise in her car.

Student – a job at Starbucks – a job at McDonalds – a job at Modern Times – a job.
= Golden Gate Park (sleeping bag) + a half fifth of burbon.

American Dehydration

This is a declaration
of my dedication
to the frivolous desecration
and ardent elimination
of America’s corporations.

This is NOT a celebration,
more like unholy recreation
or spiritual constipation,
it’s only relieved
by dedication
to self-annihilation,
through chronic masturbation,
as to fill this nation
with my pro-creation.

I have an exclamation
it is my explanation
for this exploration,
without filtration,
of my frustration
and without hesitation…

Wake Up America!

You shun immigration
and impose limitations
so you can imprison migration
cause alienation
and reject cooperation.

You underfund imagination
and education
prohibiting graduation
to dumb the population
and the only salvation
is the almighty dollar.

In times like these
times like these America,
when there is no solution
only substitution after
substitution after
and disgusting pollution;
the only resolution
to gain restitution
is revolution.

And to my generation,
stand on this foundation
wake from apathetic hibernation,
end procrastination
and stop the humiliation
of operation


Stop the investigation
into our meditation
with recreational medication
that just might cause hallucination
and no we don’t have our registration
and fuck your regulation
we need no validation
for our minds illumination.

We have attained the information;
We understand the navigation;
We have no limitations.