True Romance

featured in the poetry forum April 4, 2024  :: 0 comments

(for Eden)

Somewhere out there
is a house in Nebraska
where we can take shelter
from a series of nuclear seasons
where we can hold one another
until we die
so we can live

Again

Endless

editors note:

Where love has a long half-life. – mh clay

Burned hash on counter

featured in the poetry forum January 10, 2024  :: 0 comments

Spreading my wings
Jumping off Desolation Peak
the property company can keep their deposit
making it that much harder to furnish bright shiny things for privileged soon to sputter and drool in this now gentrified suburban hellhole…
tell me though
who will work in your restaurants
preparing your GMO and sugar salt saturated flavorless meals?
Who will work your stores to be berated for ringing up or not ringing up
bright shiny things
when they can barely afford the bus?
Let alone a car?
But the unions are on strike
Insurance whatever the fuck they actually do are on strike
so as everything goes up and you gnash your teeth wondering why the poor won’t participate and refuse to mingle scoffing at those losers who want to strike too
it’s all on you
can’t put a gun to someone’s head
already dead
INSERT BARREL INTO MOUTH

editors note:

That G-thing stands for “Gutted” for some. – mh clay

Holiday Spirit

featured in the poetry forum December 30, 2023  :: 0 comments

It was the first of the month
Vodka-man and me had just finished putting together a batch
making another killing
waiting outside the social security office
vodka cooked crack
t’was the season
most wonderful time
of the year
we were in corktown
hit a liquor store
“Hey brother, can you spare a dollar?”
“We’re hungry boss.”
We did better
spared a couple twenties
“God bless you boys, God is good!”
They proclaimed
Fuck god is what I said
You’re sitting out here,
cold,
hungry
and sober…
so, fuck god

“You can’t say that, you’ll go to Hell.”
Oh yeah?
I can see how much god loves with all that faith
being exactly where you are

Vodka-man laughed at these antics as we entered the establishment
We came out with:
Hoagies, chips, a dozen forties, two cartons of cigarettes
And threw in some pot
And quite a bit of rock
We handed them the boxes of stuff
Looks like two drug dealing atheists just gave you more than god

editors note:

Angels are anyone; they’re sent by god if we think so. – mh clay

Live dreaming

featured in the poetry forum October 20, 2023  :: 0 comments

Nocturnal indigo light when my eyelids flutter wide shut from the shameful disdain in the art of being

NEON JUNGLE
What does it mean?
the butcher’s bride does not discriminate in the sharpening of knives at the plum diggity witching hour
midnight can be your sunrise
twilight is just another high noon showdown
a pearl necklace on the beach
attacked by waves

CRASHING
Ramen noodles boiling inside an interrogation room
the microwave a slow descent into fever dreamed heavenly inferno where legends never to be have been specifically born to die

GRIEVING
John the Baptist, now there’s a man whose head would look great on a platter
the stardust kid sputters
placing pennies over the cracks of sidewalks in a substandard effort to prevent the further breaking of mothers’ backs
All-Fathers in crisis bleeding liquid time
Awakened- dreaming like jazz

SATELLITE
Blessed like a roman emperor
in the moonscape lit paint
cloaked in snakes
pseudo genetics scrapes on a nail
the wizard of cats
listens
at mercury speed
interstellar
hang-over

editors note:

Here’s exactly where you can ram your REM. – mh clay

Saga: Thunder Court

featured in the poetry forum July 25, 2023  :: 0 comments

Down yonder
horses
tangled
in barbed wire
some so starved
eating fence post
Luke stumbles
out the shed
can of gas
dandelions
forks
a stunning bouquet for Daisy
who flinches
accepts
this stark but shining bright
trailer park romance

editors note:

Sometimes the only out is a flincher. – mh clay

Blood and ink

featured in the poetry forum April 18, 2023  :: 0 comments

(Lady on a Wire#24)

We live in sin
on a turbulent sea of change
towards extinction
inkblot dreams
chronicle a schizophrenic love-song
where eastern promises dwindle to forgotten things
being knocked around in a series of westside calamities
pink folded fleshy center blooming like a desert flower
we throw our blood-infused ink on the refashioned skeletons of trees
crumpling the shells of what we were
what we allow others to perceive
lacking a port in the storm
love and sin on the floor
rorschach romance
loving sin on the floor
daybreak sunbursts
trickling lunar light
unbridled passion
it all goes down
in the dark
hands clasped
a sacred intimacy
pelvis bones grinding
inhaling
exhaling
in unison
life is metaphor
a choir lacking divinity
taking in the scent of lilac and wilderness concrete
ivory carved figures – will trace one another’s form with a single finger
basking within intermingled heat
the nightbird’s executioner’s song falls silent
but I don’t mind
if a stranger calls…
familiar

editors note:

A metaphor for god’s ennui. (This is one of Mike’s poems in his latest collaboration, RAZORVILLE, with Shannon Lynette and Paul Warren. Get your copy here). – mh clay

Love’s metrics

featured in the poetry forum January 16, 2023  :: 0 comments

Back when I used to date there was this joke…
every dinner
every night out
every workplace discussion
date, dating, dated
I tend to date women 6-10 years older, as they’re usually out of the baby making stage and used to disappointment.
But really
I just didn’t know
any better
about
menopause
along with trauma-bonding nuns
preaching stagnant death-cult morality
from the sewer they crawled out from
how sewer-holed mouths
would one day be laid bare
before the end

editors note:

Punchline pursuit of another night alone. – mh clay

Swerve again

featured in the poetry forum October 24, 2022  :: 0 comments

Cackle into the microphone
Inhaling bitch’s brew
steam from our bodies heaving within cannabis mist
you said you saw the devil in a dream
looked him in the eye
through smoke and mirror disjointed bizarro reflections
bowed before your loins
shards of glass upon the floor
grasping butterfly hands
“I believe…
I am the devil
and so are you”

editors note:

Devil Vision; your service to stream your dream. – mh clay

New occasions for sin

featured in the poetry forum July 21, 2022  :: 0 comments

Here’s a story
about the nature of evil
and the absolute goodness of god
we used to hang out downtown
hit the hobby shop for comics
get grape soda and beef jerky from the party store
bragging about
fucking
this bitch
that bitch
we were in eighth grade
listening to Nirvana
casting comic book movies
becoming comic strip gods
we didn’t have time nor the mental aptitude yet to contemplate Thomas Aquinas’ natural theology
god is everywhere
the grass, the trees, the concrete, big bang cosmic ray afterbirth and your shameful ejaculate
SIN- an action, an intent, a thought, without god
a burgundy rode up on us
laughing girls
we all would shamelessly lust over
later on
in our rooms
in the one-hundred comforts of solitude
they pretended to fight over us
asking what school we went to
if we wanted to party
did we have any beer?
laughing all the way
knowing we were too young
and embarrassed for it
we skirted their questions
gave fake names
made fun of each other
tried talking shit back
until Justin
pulled down his pants
whipped himself out
yelling
“Let’s play dick-out!”
a couple of them screamed in horror
the rest laughed
they sped off
we never saw them again
nor did we hang out with Justin again
after he put his dick through a bagel
we made our laws without god
but god was always there
who knew?
apparently, not Justin

editors note:

Just cuz you showed yours didn’t mean god would show his. – mh clay

How bad does it hurt?

featured in the poetry forum May 3, 2022  :: 0 comments

Blood horses
mechanical gods
lightning strikes born of liquid dawn
rebirth from the crescendo of the mordant cherry blossom opera
dancing in the rain
feel the heat
of apple pie pussy
after dusk romance
run to the sea
at the ground zero of Armageddon
death bomb implosion
open your eyes

editors note:

If we keep ’em shut, no Armageddon? (But, no apple pie, either.) – mh clay