Long Graffitied Poems

When we first met, 2012 was abstract chalk on the sidewalk.  He began leaving his soul, but making sure it wasn't permanent like lies girls have told a thousand times.  He began teaching...

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I remember the day my code first compiled  
    the rush of creation, of bringing order to chaos  
each line a neuron firing,    each function a heartbeat...

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There's a feeling of sadness
Mixed with a wistful awe
As we pick our careful way
Across a rubble strewn floor.
An eerie sort of half light,
As though hiding from the day,
Hiding our history until
It's finally thrown away.

This building...

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"POMPEII"



Her name was Pompeii
and I her mother,
loving her beyond measure,
took great angst, my heart bursting
from the betrayal - 
she, taking several lovers
basking in the underworld
where men are fickle
leaving unfinished poems
on walls shaking like loins
buried deep...

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He greeted me when we met this morning,
No handshake.
Just a 'Hello'
And while we stood there,
In perfect stance, 
I studied him a bit more.

He seemed calm, cool and collected,
And yet, his eyes revealed immature youth.
He seemed...

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Charlie’s got an old bar outside of town.
It’s pretty seedy and plenty run down.
Characters who don’t lightly suffer fools
go there to drink whisky and to shoot pool.

Some huffy stuffy ladies from up-town
decided one day they’d...

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"Get high on yourself baby
You
The revolution"

It wasn’t Reagan chirping away
That brought down the Berlin Wall
It was Nina Hagen brawling like a sprung spider
From a death crack in the wall

She understood its graffitied brick and steel
Was...

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For Shame
Their cold bronze eyes stare out at us from busy thoroughfare
 Heroic gaze and presence met with apathetic  stare
The marble plinths now stained with piss record with misery
Of truth and Kings and Glorious...

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His hand is strafing the castellation on his trumpet, the valves moving up down up down like deranged pistons under the random machine gun fire of his fingers. Each note is a projectile that concusses...

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Come walk with me
in this wind littered park,
please don't kick the skimpy rose bushes,
God is everywhere watching,
lipreading your foul words.

We can be romantically attached
to our thoughts,
share, collaborate,
speak each other's words before
we know we have.

Pond life...

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There is a sense of trespass 
on this frost enameled morning
as I leave my footprints graffitied
across the white grass,
sending the noise of every step 
to crunch my presence 
into a wide, frozen silence.

I stop, marooned...

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I - this vacant building, dilapidated by years and cold inadvertence.

    Obscurities dance in my eaves, ravenous belfry bats, scouring dusk -

      Notions, plans, dreams, impulses -...

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Door open,
hurtling loud and at full speed
towards my destination,
beneath me a blur 
of mounded ballast
and withered grass,
the world coming into focus more
the further out I look -
graffitied fences, factories 
still wearing the soot 
of steam...

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The ledge is where it begins
and ends. She feels her slip rise,

her rusted wings quiver into use.
She knows the wind has a language

of its own too. Its trusted wet tongue fills
its mouth. She could never...

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She sits on the train looking out at the rain 
Another crap day full of pain 

The appointment is booked and she’s running late 
She wants to throw up and make it all go away...

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The stench of urban decay winds thick 
and rank through squalid, narrow
streets christened with booze and urine,
permeating decades of neglect.

A drunken derelict slurs enthusiastic 
amens in hopeful penance at a rabid 
street-corner prophet spitting frothy...

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Cornfield aluminum recycled communion wafers.
We drank Gatorade wine from a stolen lunchbox,
sat Indian style in the irrigation ditch,
reciting Tool lyrics as scripture.

My IPhone had a cracked screen,
Her Android played only static and KORN.
We smoked straw...

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What delights await
those who punctuate
with alacrity and precision.
And reserve for those who don't,
or won't, their enmity and derision.
For there's nothing worse
than a rhyme, or verse,
that lacks its proper meaning,
a missed comma here, parenthesis there,
it really...

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The hate of time havocs foolish fate
And I, no one's blank slate
Will not my conscience hesitate
Or cast my eyes down at evening's gate.

You are neither victim nor demon since
You of your error is unconvinced
I am...

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