Please excuse the comma splices, tense changes, verbosity, etc. I was just a youngin' and now I realize the error of my grammatical ways. Plus, I preferred the flowery and descriptive writing styles of the early 19th century and beyond rather than the short, journalistic post-Hemingway-style of writing. I love intense imagery and descriptions in general. Still deciding whether I should edit my old poetry for grammar mistakes or take the Beatnik approach and fuck it.

Disclaimer: I only wrote/write on bad days. Grand days have never inspired me enough to write as I've always used writing as an outlet. A majority of my poetry is angsty, dark humored, or depressing, however, I don't have depression, and I'm not self-destructive or suicidal by any means. My writing is mostly a tenfold representation of the kind of day I was having at the time. Embellishing the realities of my bad days on paper helped turn them into good days. Not sticking my head into an oven anytime soon (or ever, actually). :P +10 points if you got the reference.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to comment

Sunday, December 21, 2008

The Night 'Fore Black Friday

*This took me a couple of hours to write, as I used the same rhyme scheme as the original poem and every ending word in this poem rhymes with all of the ending rhymes in the original.

Please tell me what you think. Thank You! =]

'Twas the night 'fore Black Friday, when all through the house,
Mom was Googling, with the click of a mouse;
She found running shoes and the prices were fair,
Despite her tired and scraggly hair;
The family was nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Plasmas danced in their heads;
While Mama had java and I took a nap,
She plotted the plan and drew out a map,
I awoke to a rumble of startling chatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
There stood my mom with a large wad of cash,
"Time to go, hun, Best Buy's got a stash!"

With latte in hand and children in stow,
Excited to seek the Christmas cargo,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
"Sale at Penny's! Hurry up, my dear!"
My mom drove the car, so lively and quick,
We traveled to Penny's to get the first pick.

Reaching parking lot, we were ready for fun!
Realizing that our purchases may weigh a ton...

Stood a giant mall, filled with gifts ungiven,
Families, in long lines at different stores were riven.

Stretched from Walgreens, to the entrance of the mall!
Stood a mass of people that could start a brawl!

The Sun had not risen, the moon in the sky,
Yet what happened next did appeal to my eye,
The doors were now open and in people flew,
I, everyone, and their grandmothers, too.

Claustrophobic, I stood aloof,
Spotting scared workers take refuge on roof.

Darting corners and circling around,
Running shoes, radios and Rock Band, we found!

My mom wore her furs from her head to her foot,
While she told me briefly that I had to stay put;

Kitchenware was located all the way in the back,
But she admired a coat that was covered in black.

She only could purchase what she could now carry,
The checkout lines had turned quite scary.

But she saw her running shoes that stood aglow,
But seeing the price required a proper quid pro quo;
When she couldn't buy shoes, she clenched her teeth,
And the anger encircled her head like a wreath;
This surpassed the time she'd received free jelly,
From the jelly of the month club that had fattened her belly.

To what to her eyes did appear on a shelf,
A Plasma TV, which she picked out herself!

Though the shopping experience itself she did dread,
It excited her to see shorter lines up ahead;
She took me in hand as shoppers went berserk,
We had reached the checkout, though this man was a jerk,
From his bad morning breath to his under-plucked nose,
He said that we budged and he stepped on my toes!

Finally, it was time to make our dismissal,
And away we all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I must admit that the stores were a sight,
As we drove home with our finds with much delight.

Copyright © 2008

Surreal Escape

Embarking on an island,
Unseen by human eye,
I chart in isolation,
No neighboring boat- nor passerby.

No civilization befouls the sea,
For plague and ocean have not met,
Thy bid farewell, speaks thee,
Must clean up life's debris.

Sailing to nowhere,
In search of something,
Though may seem fruitless,
Must life have purpose?

Tale of my life,
Whirlpool swallows my existence,
Evaporates my being.

Soul slowly disintegrates,
Pulls me to the fruit of its loin,
Sea calls my name,
Taunts me.

Defiled by sea mist,
Sinks into crevices,
Catacombs lay beneath sea.

Dark abyss of gratitude,
Unable to elude its grasp,
Sea whispers peril.

Heart hampered-- non-existent gratification,
Lost beneath surface,
Accompanied by sailors passed on,
Sallow waters, unmarked graves.

Lost and bewildered,
In aquatic nightmare,
Flounder to surface.

Discerning water,
Common as chocolate milk,
Yet not as barbarous,
To lactose intolerant.

Though my life appears droll,
I must abdicate from reality,
Leaving evidence behind,
Of my surreal escape.

Copyright © 2008


To what do I owe this introduction,
But of course,
The grandness unseen,
I show no remorse,
I can't intervene.

The plot appears lonesome,
No style or content to accompany,
The little nothings that I present -- but a fragment of significance.

"Thank You for Not Smoking" signs litter walls in a smoggy room,
Minuscule deterrent to would-be non-smokers,
Thank you for not smoking in the smoking section.

"I love you's" dance across the pages,
Of over-rated novels,
Contemporary romance.

"I love you" means little,
Simple way to end a page and begin a new.

The phrase that now means short term -- till I find a replacement.

Tentative love -- unreal

Does minuscule mien not suffice you?

Copyright © 2008

A Realization

Tender cherry blossoms swayed in the wind,
Surrounded by zephyr -- calmness, beauty,
Basking in the spring sun enlightened my soul.

To some, this would ignite bliss,
But I was not satisfied,
I needed affirmation.

Now, I wish for the world to reverse before I had sinned,
Hoping that I could just feel the zephyr,
Its reassurance that all would be well -- the Sun accompanying its glory,
Before I had committed the misconception.

I admired the apple on the Tree of Knowledge.


Upon first bite,
Realizing my demise,
My stupidity,

Forced to exit the garden, I was unsure of the circumstances.

Copyright © 2008

Friday, April 4, 2008

Graffiti Hearts

(Meant to be spoken word or "slam" poetry to be spoken between an andante and moderato tempo [around 100BPM])

Emo heart--
Tortured, battered matter.

Graffiti on a blackboard,
Left like I left you.

Lawless, spineless love.

Beat -- 2, 3, 4.

Graffiti on a blackboard,
Nothing ever there.

Beat -- 2, 3, 4.

Nails on a chalkboard,
Shall I speak now?

Beat -- 2, 3, 4.

Nail 2 the heart--
Blood escapes now.

Beat -- 2, 3, 4.

Hard on the heart--
Life pressed against it.

Beat -- 2, 3, 4.

Shout, whisper, hum.

Kiss, smooch, grope.

Tickled pink and voiceless.

Happy, yet dead inside.

Noiseless heart speaks loud.

Tremors of the heart and
Terrors of the minded.

Beat -- 2, 3, 4.


Copyright © 2008

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Writer's Block

Trembling hands,
Dizzy mind,
Sweaty palms,
Heavy eyes.

Stressful soundless sleep.
Mind awakes, slowly.

My hand beholds my pen,
I write random reflections.

Clear, empty, wordless, thoughtless mind,
Repeating thoughts.
A thesaurus cannot help cure these repeating thoughts.

Thought. Thought.

Got it!

I rationalize, speculate, and conjure up new words to use.
Agony, treachery, torture of writer's block.
A scrumptious language I must soon learn.

Pitiful procrastinating perversion of the mind.

My cranium, bolted into my writing.

My thoughts,
Mailing themselves away from my mind.
No return address.

Well, what good am I as a postmaster of thoughts.

I try to manually think.

Think. Think.


What if I just stopped writing.

All of a suddenly stopped.

No more thinking.
No more thought process.
No more jumbled, good for nothing, use of words.


I stop writing.

I look out my window, noting the beautiful landscape of the world outside.

I made a pact.
I have to keep it.

I cannot write.

Oh, but the rolling hills and gently sloping--

Shut up, mind!

I'm through, done with.

I will never make it as a--

The rays of the sun stroke the land beneath.

The lakes and rivers nearby calmly flow, like the thoughts entombed deep within my mind.

That's it!

I must write...

The hills, the rivers and lakes, the valley - now, THAT is where I belong.

My mind becomes fruitful, offering a plentiful harvest of thoughts - many, many thoughts.

Stretching over the barren lands, through the trees, across the ocean to the ends of the world.

No mind like mine. No mind exactly the same. No mind as sublime as anyone else's.

Copyright © 2008

My Nightmare, Alive

Sometimes I wish it had all been just a dream...

My mind awakens from its thoughtless sleep,
The world, a blur, as thy eyes open,
The pure rememberance of yesterday's past, gone.

Fruitless acts spill from thy spirit,
Thy pen, overflowing with rot,
Spite, maliced thoughts,
Objected by most.

I toss, turn, drear at the tormented world,
A corrupted cascade of catastrophe.

My mind marvels at the lack of might of some,
The failure to foreshadow the false,
Reveal the truth,
Be not afraid of admitting your wrongs.

Wrongs are immediately revealed, long-lasting,
Rights are over-looked, unnoticed.

Copyright © 2008

Friday, January 4, 2008


The sublime call of life entombed within its very halls and rooms,
A ship filled with deep forgotten mysteries,
Waiting for its time of peace as its time of sorrow passes,
The world cries out for its lost souls, trapped beneath the waves,
The "unsinkable" ship calls the ocean bottom "home."

Copyright © 2008

Moonlight Howl

tremble in the moonlight
the wolves howl sharply
rabic animals calm pets

Copyright © 2008