Tagged: writers

Writing to Routine


Making plans

Manipulating phrases

Chiseling poetry:

Fallen, forgotten, worlds

Nostalgia, fear

Connection, obsession.

7 worded nights

Fighting after they’ve taken

Your will to live

Fighting with nothing left to lose

Fighting with fingers

Mashed into

A potato fist

Clashing batons

Whipping, slashing rounds

And I’ll stand in the middle of

The battleground

With little, but

Crippled fists

From bashing faces

Into misconceptions

Of “art”

Only the greats would envy

If they could only see

If the product

Wasn’t so impermanent

As a newly born author

Picking up his first pen

In the street

Outside his first

Wholesale purchase

Of cheap liquor.



The Cost of Rejection


The man cut off a finger

For each book written

A small sacrifice

In the life of a poet

Luckily for the rest of the world

Rejection runs rampant

In pitiful art forms

And cutting inch from inch

By the time he was published

I could fit him in my back pocket

By the time a paycheck came

I could swallow him whole

Dedicating his life to creation

A Special Ejaculate

The waitress said “Garbage”
She was right.
The painful realization
that I’m not Hemingway
Or Plath, or Neruda, or Rimbaud.

That I can never hope to be them
I don’t even have the balls or the hatred in me that made Bukowski
But I can watch her walk away shaking her fat ass
That doesn’t make me any more of a writer
Than the men going into late night movies
Leaving with wads of toilet paper

A literary ejaculation
A response
To pornography
To the way the world works
To the way children squeal
If I am the man going into these late night movies
Then I guess I am a writer after all.