The Time of Come and Get Her

April 7, 2012 § 5 Comments

Holding on ragged merry-go-round
Long past the age of know better

And the sardonic quitting sound
holding on ragged merry-go-round
Hark the hammer manic pound
Long past the time of come and get her

Holding on ragged merry-go-round
Long past the age of know better


April 5, 2012 § 2 Comments

Stands on
Bitter’s shoulders

Moment of Realization

April 5, 2012 § 3 Comments

Its all about
being bravest with
heart baring

The Tip

March 20, 2012 § 2 Comments

The bus is the usual level of crowded, all two-seaters partially occupied by loosies, us solo commuters. The new buses have this step up section in the back and “kids” still flock there. But its early and there are only two, sitting together.

Today I end up in the very last seat before the back section. This particular driver is young, and a fucking mad man. I find myself bracing my knees against the seat in front of me and closing my eyes to ignore the risky driving. Buses are big. And I’m getting old.

He pulls into the station. Collecting myself, I accidentally pull out my earphones. I’m holding my bus pass and iPod since I’m not wearing my jeans or coat. No pockets. Add my purse to the mix and all of a sudden, I’m a frazzled nerd back in high school. Until the next thing happens.

The bus has been emptying the whole time, another rule violation. I’m in the seat closest to the back door, I should be first out. That’s my perk. But my hesitation has cost me my privilege, so now I’m awkwardly waiting, my OCD brain telling me I better be poised to go, otherwise the bus might leave without letting me off.

“Go ‘head.” This school aged child, taking the bus with her brother (presumably) is smiling at me from the top of the stairs and respectfully waiting for me to go first. I smile and in relief scramble off the bus. She exits after and runs happily to catch up with her brother, her whole life ahead of her.

I think of how I’d like to reward her. Here kid, I think, have one of my life experiences. Maybe it will save you some trouble.

Her back pack bounces as she runs…


February 12, 2012 § 1 Comment

That picture

That one
Rock star
Of me
Essence of me
Fluid vapor
Cup o’ words
Is one
Of anguish
Some think this tragic.

Some think this beautiful.
I think it’s beautiful.

Ram Bull

January 8, 2012 § 2 Comments

I’m sick of needing people, believing people, exploring theories, exploding mores, standing up for the weak, being abused, being addicted, being ugly, being a failure, being alone, being broke and broken, having been spoke to but never spoken, hiding in corners, hiding in a drawer, hiding behind fences, hiding behind lore, being comfortable with things transient in nature, caring what people think and do, caring what people think of me and do to/with/because/without/about me.
I can’t stop analyzing myself.
I can’t stop worrying about how I seem.
The next line I read could be the answer.
With the next words written, I could save myself.
Do you understand that pressure? I’m bench-pressing the weight of the world and if I drop anything, I die, my family dies, my life is smoke.
Smoke drifts and scatters.
I have no fortification I can grant.
I’m shouting, I’m screaming.
Nothing works.
I’m sedate, I’m silent.
Nothing works and everything hurts.
Spin me something, light it on fire and I’ll inhale and inhale.

Milk&Gas Blues

July 29, 2011 § 4 Comments

I hate this
Laying together
And worrying about money

Where Am I?

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