Poetry, Thoughts, Photos, Songs

that seems like enough

I am in love with sad girls

no, sad people

There is no meaning to this life

there are just nights where you drink

and smoke and listen to sad songs

to make yourself feel better but

-

none of it quite works

-

what am I even looking for?

Is there any resolution?

-

God, I am hoping

-

Kierkegaard, leap of faith

I love you all, that’s all I have

-

and I guess, now

-

that seems like enough

May 31, 2012

I write because it feels better than being silent

-

I want to tell you about the 10 cigarettes

and the bottle of wild turkey

when my friends leave

otherwise I’d keep it to myself

-

being alone is not a lot of fun, I have people but

I am very much alone, nights like these

-

listening to Rachmaninov (a friend

said I would like it) and realizing I’ve wanted

to kill myself, 

-

                        (not to actually die but to at least

have done something for this and for those people

who didn’t know how I’ve been)

-

It’s vertigo, you want to and you don’t

living poorly is the slowest way to do it

but it always works, (oscar wilde you’re an asshole)

-

and I want an ending, (something catchy)

-

but I’m not so good with seeing that

The King of Beer cans

There’s a lot of beer cans in here

because I am the King of beer cans

-

I decide which ones will be banished

to the land of recycling and which ones

get to stay to become royal ashtrays

-

Truly I am a kind and merciful King

-

I separate them by their different brands

so that they hate each other more

than they hate me, which is nice

-

because I can’t afford another beer can

revolution, days of royal sobriety

-

It’s terrible

10 pm, May 24, 2012

Poetry and beer are great

distractions, if only I knew

what else to do

There’s always punk rock

-

God I am a cliche

I explained to my Dad today

why I like having a mohawk

-

I am not as nice as

I thought I was, funny

-

I am trying to take away

the structures I used, now

it just seems false

-

How do I think? I am not

a Ginsburg or a Bukowski

or a Cohen or a Stephens

or a Soren or a Albert

-

What a weird life this is where

you’d want to be anyone other than yourself

-

It’s just not very romantic

A poem I wrote after a good friend left school because of cancer

This voice isn’t pretty

the poets and the musicians get that

the rest of us can only listen

what kind of life is this?

-

We play chess in poor lit rooms

and talk about shit that no one will care about

The poor get the poor, the sad get the sad

the rich get the rich, the empty 

empty empty repetition repetition

-

I swore I heard a song today

in the sound of the bathroom ceiling fan

I’m just waiting and dreading my psychotic

break, oh god oh god

“there is no poetry after the holocaust”

What an awful world

what an awful world

-

Meet me in the city, a guy recommended this to me

before he left

Ali has cancer and I’ll never see him again

probably fuck what does it mean

what does it all mean

-

I could smoke a whole field

drink a whole distillery tonight

I want to rob myself of lights and illusions

I want to be a stranger 

-

I cant write you a poem that you’ll like

so I’ll pretend

something sad and romantic, you’ll love it

you can see yourself as the noble nerd who loses no matter what

and everyone else can be stupid or empty or an asshole

-

17 years old, so fill your bottles with flowers

empty them out when you get bored or they die

and ill take them then

Feb 10

The sick don’t call themselves sick

and the well aren’t well

they just know that they are sick

-

and outside I am smoking and drinking

and inside they are talking about God

and love and poetry

-

across the way they are getting high

and listening to dustup

the internal and the external

-

I thought there was a difference

but I’m seeing now that

-

it’s really all the same

-

our way is straight

and there are many streets

-

but my vision is crooked

Facebook

All these people with their big fake

smiles

-

Is there some emptiness underneath

or

nothing at all

-

I don’t 

know

I don’t know

-

As if it matters

what they do or

pretend to be

-

The people who show

what is real for them

-

its not working out

exactly well for us

either

-

Not that I am glass but

-

I wish I was

the girl outside the supermarket by Charles Bukowski

a very tall girl lifts her nose at me

outside a supermarket

as if I were a walking garbage

can; and I had no desire for her,

no more desire

than for a

phone pole.

what was her message?

that I would never see the top of her

pantyhose?

-

I am a man in his 50s

sex is no longer an aching mystery

to me, so I can’t understand

being snubbed by a

phone pole.

I’ll leave young girls to young

men.

-

it’s a lonely world

of frightened people,

just as it has always

been.

Oct 12, 2011

I am not going to try to give this more meaning or significance than it actually has. Today is my birthday. I got two packs of Nat Sherman MCDs, a Dreamcast, the promise of alcohol, a lot of notes, and one letter. I am thankful for these, but

I wrote part of my paper on the divine and love in the Aeneid, and then

drank two beers and

smoked two cigarettes and

then borrowed money for

two dollar-menu burgers and

I guess thats it.

I was hoping to find fulfillment in something today but

it wasn’t what I had

hoped

-

And so my girlfriend went to sleep as I

finished my burgers and

smoked a Nat Sherman and

played Power Stone

-

and now I’m alone at

my computer in the living room

listening to someone else’s

muffled conversation

down the hall and

wishing that I could

feel if people

loved

me or 

not

To be read on the day of my death

I disagree with Camus, suicide

does not mean you are attributing meaning to your life

(though I’m probably wrong about what he said)

-

it is because we search for meaning, when

there is none

-

he told me to observe the flowers

in the desert but 

I have found none

-

it is of always reaching out

to love, god, other

but never being rid of this.

-

what will they say?

only that they don’t understand

even if they don’t say it

-

that’s what they’ll say

-

just like i have

October 2nd, 2011

I go outside to smoke and

there is a man walking by

singing the beetles’

when I’m 64 and

I wish I could hold anything tonight, other

than the greek I’ve been avoiding and

-

as I write this my computer is dying so

I’m always looking at the time I have

left

and so I run passed my girlfriend

to her room to find the power cord

but it was with her instead

-

and maybe I am only reporting

actions in my life or

maybe I am trying to find the meaning

behind all of it

-

but maybe there is none

-

and I’m writing this as she leaves

to lay down outside and then

come back in because

it was too cold

A poem long enough that maybe no one will read it

There is some sort of mystery

about life that I am still unravelling

-

Dom tells me about the rave

she went to last night

maybe I would have gone

but I was so tired and

she said she threw up maybe

three times

-

and I’m telling my brother this

as he drinks the rest of my

Rockstar and eats cold 

roast beef with Sriracha

-

and leaves to help Austin

move, “Porque?”

“Porque, no? Estamos 

Amigos.”

-

“Bueno.”

-

and I’m joking and

asking “What’s wrong

with capitalism?

-

I got

two Rockstars for

three dollars.” but

-

What does anything mean?

It is always constant and

-

I started a blog that people

are liking and so

they re-blog the pictures I

post but

-

I am still alone in my house

smoking and waiting for

-

always waiting for

-

and there is always something

happening

and I say to it

“No, I am not waiting for 

you but

-

the something that

doesn’t have any name

and it’s always 

the same but 

for some reason

always changing

-

maybe it changes because it

is not meant to be found

or maybe

it just feels like it’s changing

because it’s always

slipping through your hands

-

so instead I light a new cigarette

and try to learn

another

song

August 15th, 2011

A quiet nothingness

Like a frozen pond

with nothing

but space beneath it

-

I’m wondering

if i am alive or

maybe I’m somehow

dreaming

-

In places like these

you shouldn’t move

to leave

but

dig into the ice

-

in case there is 

something more

underneath