a poem about fighting

featured in the poetry forum October 11, 2017  :: 0 comments

my co-worker- potato shaped
bronze tinged with a pudding consistency
an immobile juggernaut
lives across the street
from work
his mom picks him up in her beater
rust eaten coffin
battery operated kitten purring venom
last rites
it’s getting grotesque
this act of not walking home
at night, after work
his neck has vanished- eaten by swelling flesh
mimicking his mouth and the rest of his
gluttonous structure
nearly half my age
looks nearly twice
has a Bukowski quote tatted on his arm
never read him, doesn’t even know who he is
turned 18, asked the artist for something
cool, something meaningful
ask him something about meaning,
life, living, fucking, the globalized villa of discontent
dumbfounded silence
glare of malice
one day, walking down the street
wearing my pineapple shirt- I pass him
on the way to work
walks past me
eyes shut- head phones on
drumming away but never to
so, I decide at break to ask, “Say Roger, you live in the complex across from here, why don’t you just walk home instead of having your mom put the extra wear and tear on the car?”
“First, Zoller, it’s none of your business, second, I’m gay, third Trump is president, my mom says there’s all sorts of evil people out there who want to do me harm for being different, not that you’d understand.”
“Yeah, being a working class, non-religious half-Jew, I have no idea what that’s like but sometimes an ass kicking is good for you.
toughens your character
develops your pain threshold
I was bullied from elementary
all the way through high school
by the time I made my rounds to the bars
I was able to knock most washed-up jockos
and casual business pricks flat on their asses
bang and threaten to run a train on their girlfriends
and get most my drinks paid for
of course, it helped
I was a criminal then”

editors note:

Discord in diversity brings counsel from criminality. (We welcome Mike to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay

Up in smoke

featured in the poetry forum July 31, 2017  :: 0 comments

wandering the night
in the heat – the rain
pierced by the rays of your heart
the razor blade-coated man appears
glinting underneath the pallid street lamps
I saw the labors of love in the lunatic devil’s eyes
it didn’t sound like we know how to survive
but we loved in each other mutilating each a tender bit of soul
something of the song I sang
as he slashed me across the chest running – without laughter
thieving our nocturnal music
awaiting the gauze-girl, that enchantress of death and misery
harnessing the pendulum of oblivion
which one of us not being a nightmare – excalibur concepts
we can reach out all
we want lady of the lake, slut of the sea
salt crystals in her hair, barnacles between her teeth
pearl skin of deathly decay
the avalon of despair- where no wounded heroes come back
but that’s really the point of it all, isn’t it?
kingdom gone, the germination of hope
this is why poetry lingers – like the gas leak in an apartment
outdated lines – rusted, broken
sometimes it’s better to asphyxiate – in a delirium of delightful dreaming
but I rather light the match with a cheshire cat smile
take a puff from an overly expensive cigar
take the whole damn tenement down with me

editors note:

If he can’t have then no one can. Calmly walk to the exit nearest you. – mh clay

Green Tea Bedroom

featured in the poetry forum April 23, 2017  :: 0 comments

Lost in the moment
the sight of C’s saucer shaped eyes
void dark
anything but desolation
millions of galaxies
born
ignited
splendid illumination
entwined nudes like a cosmic serpent
staring at cherry blossoms
on a blue canvas background

editors note:

Firecracker space love blossoms in the blue. – mh clay