Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Djinn Martini

Give me something
that means more than aqua landscapes
and fireworks.

Give me a moment
where we act like characters
in a show
reacting to to music
and laughtrack

Give me a new color
more passionate than red
more human than blue,
but don't make it too purple.

The genie laughed.

Suddenly I had a bazooka
that fired coral reefs.

As the missile hit the sea,
George Costanza told me
the Jerk Store was running out of me.

And the blast blinded me
with a whole new color
more passionate than red
more human than blue,
but suspiciously purple.

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

Insane Kevin's Discount Lawn and Garden Services

hit up Insane Kevin
for the dankest prices
on lawn and garden services.

Insane Kevin will do literally anything
regarding your lawn and garden.

He has a shovel
and a rake.

He will dig the unlikeliest
of holes.

Got a fuckin tree u don't like?
Insane Kevin will bash it with his shovel
for three days minimum,
five dollars.

Or u can hit up Insane Kevin
if u just wanna chill and talk
about ghosts
because Insane Kevin has his own ghosts.
In fact,
they speak with him regularly
when he performs lawn and garden

So let Insane Kevin
cut your grass,
dig your fruitless holes
and speak with the demons
in your lawn and/or garden.

No beast or obstacle will hold
against Insane Kevin's might,

lest the ghost took hold of the deep soil
in the heart of the winter.

Wednesday, December 27, 2017


They're making robots
that can kill us.
They're making AI
that can outsmart
a billion minds in a second.

They're learning everything about you.
They know your favorite sleeping position,
and they watch your dreams
to learn your fears.

Soon you'll know exactly who "they" are.

Like a sea washing away a cliff
they will turn you to dust,



Thursday, November 30, 2017

Untitled Collection

Untitled Poem No. 5

The lungs are a tired machine.
They take in smoke,
and put out lies.

Is there a cure for wickedness?
Is there a single being without vice?

Let me weave some words to
mend you, dear lungs;
let me give you relief.

The leaves fall to the earth
every year, and become the earth,
to give life back to the trees.
Likewise the the bird’s bones
give way
to make the bird's eggs again.

Even the most distant comets
fall to the sun
to make it just a wee bit brighter.
So breathe, dear lungs.

Take in reason
and put out  the absurd.

For there is no cure for wickedness,
or a being without vice.

Take in free air
no matter the price.

Untitled Poem No. 7

they say failure
lets you learn
and loneliness
makes you want to speak

but i've failed plenty
been lonely
and never learned a thing
or felt compelled to speak

so then,
shall i simply
make everything work?
shall i simply seek
the greatest company?

come close, ancient poets
come close, wisdom that eludes me
teach me your way with words
fill my heart with the lightness
of being

"fuck you" the poets say
"get a grip" reality agrees

fair enough
that's certainly fair enough

suppose i'll try another path
the best ones are too dirty

Untitled Poem No. 11

far away 
but not too far
there is a moon called Rhea
every day 
the light of our star 
shows the way from here to Rhea

I think I left my heart there
even though I've never been
I fell in love with a distant light 
I think
after I hit my head
I felt my head hit the ground
and I looked up, far away,
upon Rhea, the distant moon

and she said, "I watched you live and die a thousand times.
I've watched the trees grow a thousand feet and burn down,

and you can still join the light."

aaand when i woke up
the n urse said her name was R

R what?
i said

"R," she said
"General said'n you took a shell 
in the trench,
screaming, 'Rhea, Rhea
please fix me.'"

so they sent me there with cannonfire
and i wnet far away

Untitled Poem No. 38

here, take this flame
let it light your mind
and home
and stove

let this fire 
into your heart
so it can burn away
your ill intent 

trust me 
this flame came 
from ancient trees

ancient rain
could not kill this holy light
I hand you now
there is no devil 
deep below 
there is no reason up above

take this flame
and light your own sky

make it so
none of our flames die

Untitled Poem No. 63

laying here
among the wires
the condor considers its prey

but it knows
you can't eat a spark
despite how hungry you are

so it looks on 
beyond the wires
flying high on golden wings

up there, far away 
an angel sings
sweet slumbers to hungry birds

"sing," the condor says
as the angel looks at the sun
"it's already singing for us,"

she said
"but if you're hungry
feast upon the tears of the ear
feast upon fear."

and the condor got
z app ed
to the 
sp arks
where we lay

Untitled Poem No. 57

what happened before time existed?

well, something made time.

fuck knows if we'll ever figure out
who or what did it
but it's done

the best moments,
like stretched strings,
build tension and snap

and when those moments snap
what are we to do?

stretch new strings
make them sing
and if nothing else,
use dreams to become a king

god knows we spend so much time
in dreamland
even when we're awake

so go to bed 
and wake up for once

Sunday, September 10, 2017

The poem you wrote for me in my dream that I woke up and wrote for you

You don’t have blood in your veins.
You have cataclysmic ancient fire
going through you.

And every time your heart pumps
that fire is born again,
like a supernova.

And when the cat brought a mouse in,
I wasn’t sure if you empathized more
with the killer
or the killed.

But it didn’t matter
because you were telling me about
this palm reader you knew,
who takes months to read a palm,
and in the army
he lost his arm
and he had a sculptor carve him a new palm
with a perfect future on it.

Monday, June 5, 2017

Local Man Banned from the Seventh Dimension After Bad DMT-Trip

DETROIT, MI--Citing a series of scandalous and damning violations, a being from the Seventh Dimension told reporters Monday that Aaron Thompson, 23, was permanently and irrevocably banned from the Seventh Plane of Existence. “His feeble mind could not fathom a single moment from my realm, let alone understand common courtesy and basic rules,” said ̳̻̳̠̰Щ̞͈̦͡倪͈̹̥ψ̺͍̮̣̪̟̘ὼ̯̠͈μ҉̳̪̻͕ͅί͎̥͎͖͢द̯ु҉̬͓ख̗̱ा͕͘इ͓̟̳̗͝ͅ an ancient presence from the Seventh Dimension who described how Thompson smoked more DMT than he could handle and entered the higher dimension without any sort of invitation or goal. “He was blind, deaf and dumb. In a fit of agony and confusion, all he could do was scream unintelligible pleads for mercy. It was pretty damn rude.” The being, whose name could not be uttered or comprehended, went on to say that Thompson’s unwelcomed visit would be his last, and that was “really going to fuck with some of his future incarnations.”

Sunday, May 14, 2017

Public Service Announcement from Your Local Friendly Tax Collector

That magical world they told you about

was wearing a mask all along.

It’s ugly underneath,

and it’ll bite your throat like a hungry dog,

if it gets the slightest chance.

That’s right, there’s not a single unicorn,

treasure chest,

or castle in the sky.

It’s just cement roads,

faulty streetlights,

and the inherent suffering

that all living things share.

It was all a lie.

Jesus and the easter bunny,

all of it was a fairy tale,

or at least gross exaggeration of the truth.

But now you must join in the elaborate charade.

You must look upon the rotting foundations beneath the world, all that you hold dear,

take its weight upon your shoulders,

and do it with a smile,

while you tell children the very same lies

that blinded you.

The skies may darken with ash,

and the rivers may run dry.

But even so,

you mustn't forget

to pay your taxes.