Poems Aren't Worth a Goddamn Thing

broken cracker
water straight from the tap
two day old bread
and salty soup

they come 'round here
offering
we have something for you
quick before it's all gone

you know there are more hungry than you
look at all these books
piled to the ceiling
sell them all and buy yourself some shoes

I'd rather wander barefoot in the rain
than give up a single word
each letter has more worth
than a heap of right opinions

each author a better friend
than a wringing religious hand
held out if you only believe
what we believe

I eat stale biscuits
the milk long gone
but still I am not alone
each word, each syllable
a stronger gateway to heaven
than any clammy outstretched appendage
crossing itself
with a backhanded weak smile
it's purveyor

Fucker

though faceless and thick
it knows its way around the room
it knows the secret names
I keep for things
and where I hide my chocolate bars
its leafing through my magazines
digging around in my porn stash
rearranging the shelves
and driving me crazy
it broke several glasses
smashed them to little bits
on the kitchen floor
ate all the cereal
and put the milk carton
back in the fridge empty
it smoked my last cigeratte
and finished the bottle of Jim Beam
it scratched up my favorite records
dog eared my books
got into my drugs
and smoked them all up
it stole my poems
and read them aloud
cackling wildly
it spent the night passed out
on the bathroom floor
and used all the hot water
if I could just get my hands on it
I'd strangle it all the way
when I look straight forward
I see the two of us
but when I turn my head
no one's there
and my fingers pass through air

You Go In Pieces

"I brought you a peace offering."
you say with too-much teeth grin
I want no more pieces of you!
I've had quite enough I think
I'm full up to the brim
with your dirty fucking pieces
all the little dusty chunks of yourself
you left around my apartment
I keep tripping on them
choking on them in my sleep
stumbling over them in the dark
on the way to the bathroom
when I get up to go take a shit
stubbing my toes against them
and hopping the rest of the way
expletives waking up the neighbors
 rattling  their ears
I want to toss up all those pieces of you
I had to swallow back down
when you looked at me funny
when you made a crack
about my lack of housekeeping skills
now it's pieces of you strewn about the fucking place
so untidy 
come get them
I don't want them anymore
I'll give you some plastic bags to wrap them in
to keep them from escaping back into my bed
I'll get the dust pan and the broom
you can keep all the cracked little bits
I've had enough to last me a life time
I'm all full up
I don't need them anymore
you keep those little pieces you keep offering me
I ain't got no more room for anyone else's regrets
but my fucking own

Dead Channel

I can hear you
trying to haunt me
your voice
coming through
like broken static
phonetic
frantic
cracked and crackling
ghost transmissions
on the still air of bright nights

hey, those
radio frequencies
my silver fillings
are trying to pick up
static
where your words
used to be
hissing through
the frayed wiring
of my soul
come in over Toyko
somewhere over Hawaii
can you hear me?

rattling around in my head
reverberating off the walls
I turn over
I turn the dial
I change the channel
big old test pattern
in the sky
the colour of scratched records

you got some
tv antennas caught in your hair
and big parasitic
advertisers jacking your waves
reprogramming
your late night
monster movies
to sell us
sentimental bullshit
packaged in sexist
dessert recipes
and bikini photos

you haunt me
with noise
broadcast every stupid thought
straight through rewiring
down fiber-optic cables
and up old copper tubes
I take the old Nintendo
into the other room
I'm going to play Mario
until dawn crackles
out distant warnings
over electric mountians
to drown out
your moaning
straight through the charged air
all wireless
until the end of my ears

only binary coded
sunlight knows the truth
and you turned it all off
years ago
anyways
the great switch in the sky
hard wired to your passing whims
'hey there
dancing robot girl
get up and dance for me'
I'd give anything to be
a sexy cyborg demon
and eat your
cognitive
heart right out of your
shiny tin chest

fuck the stars
in the space we
burned out for them
and fuck your
electornic
advances
while we're at it
I'll see you in the Hell
where they send rotary phones
and rabbit eared TV sets
you'll find me on the throne
cybernetic vengaence
with your name
still warm on my lips
and your robotic blood
still sticky on my hips

Monstrous Heart

"she's not human"
must have been what my demons
were whispering in his ear
because his face contorted
before I even brought out
the sharpest knife

"you know what I believe in?"
I mused
I didn't wait for him to answer
"Sex.
And violence.
And revenge.
And all the good things in life."

I smiled gently as I bent over him,
and with lips pressed against his ear
whispered,
"you should probably close your eyes for this part.
You don't want to see this."

Ink (Nephthys)

I can't see the stars here
it drives me fucking mad
that flat black sky
only the moon hanging
her beautiful face obscured
suspended in an empty sickly orange glow
the sun coming too fucking early
like a useless lover
with a useless cock

I need the cover of darkness
to get up to my nefarious deeds
I need to slip between shadows
to feel normal
I miss that blanket of stars
whispering my name
and drawing me out into the empty streets

I hate the morning
it's flushed and pinked skin
winking through the blackout curtians
sneaking in around the edges
trying to rouse me
trying to stir me
trying to ruin me
in the light of day

my neighbors little morning noises
creeping through the walls
the garbage truck waking me with a shock
as it slams the dumpster up into the air
the construction workers across the street
and their fucking saws and hammers
which I threaten to shove up their asses
to no one in particular

how I miss the silence of the night
the clockwork of the world turned still
a million little busy hands
finally stopped
this city groggily asleep
and me slinking about
feeling almost right in all her dark quiet
all her darkness
slipping down my skin
curling about my hair
lighting upon my lips

I am beautiful in the night
straight claimed by her icy fingers
I run wild while you sleep
I've seen the parks too dark
the trees huge and looming masses
the world all the same blackened colour
building become shapes and lose their grandeur
the world no longer finite in the glaring dawn
but black and endless stretching to the heavens
to the dead star light
a million miles away

I slink through the night and watch
the coyotes hunting for rats
big fat black slick furred things
with long yellow teeth
fattened by over flowing dumpsters from upscale restaurants
the coyotes sleek and quick
a jump
a squeal
a gnashing of teeth
and its all over
 
the alleyways lit by glowing street lights
with fat moths flinging themselves upwards
in crazy loops
to that sulfured glow
the bats swooping in
near silent but the rush of air
past quickened flight
to crunch on those chubby bodies
and disappear back into the dark
the velvety rhythm of their wings
singing me home

from the edge of the bed
all lost in the solid dark
I stare at you through the inky film
as you gently breath in and out
at my side
lost in the folds of my sheets
your features barely audible in the dim light
uncomfortable when you realize I've stopped breathing
you flutter and roll
and pull me closer

yeah,
I watch you when you sleep
and sigh back into the knowledge
that your daylight is going to kill me
that my black little heart can't survive
in the heat of the bright rays
we are shrinking at the thought already
and clinging to the darkness
hiding under the covers
wishing the sunlight would fucking go away
just go away

I'm curled up all small now
deep under the quilts
this false darkness not quite right
listening to your morning skin
clicking the door shut
in search of the garish sun
outside of my beautiful black world
you say
'I've got to claim the day'
more like you've got to get out of here
because in daylight my skin is too white
my truth too glaringly bare
my willingness too easy to see

it's only in the night
that I am beautiful
and without the stars
I am hopelessly lost
howling down the streets
trying to find them
and you
again

Beauty (My Father's Hands)

you say
'i am too bruised for you
i can't survive myself
look at these angry scratches
this swelling place
where would you see beauty
in these fists?'

you know
my father came home every day
with darkly stained hands
from chain oil
and axle grease
smudges on his face
dirt in his eyelashes

he was a mountain of man
to me
his hands never clean
shaggy beard
wild hair
booming laugh
as he roared into the yard
in his one tonne chariot
with two flat tires

everyday he came home
with sawdust in his hair
and huge hands
lugging a chainsaw
at his side
tossing his dirty bucking pants
over the living room chair
much to my mother's displeasure

everyday
he came home
covered in the filth of working men
rode the big machines
once came home with a branch
from a surprised falling tree
embedded in his leg
bleeding all over the seat vinyl
as my mother sped
the hour to the nearest hospital

every day there was sawdust
and blackened hands that never came clean
and splinters
and little scrapes where the sparks jumped back
and burnt his skin
and bruises from flying sticks
when great trees met the ground
at his shivering command

and everyday my father was beautiful to me

if you can not see the beauty of yourself
reflected in mine eyes
then you don't know who I am
and will never see where I came from

I Hate the Word

Is love not a vile and formless thing?
Is it not all tripped forward in flesh
hastened to punished hearts
and be quickly thrown up
like two fingers down the throat?

I vomit these words up
like Clean Christians
applying hot pokers
to naked pagans

I twist 'i love you'
around snarled lips
with a tongue so bruised
in deep purples
that only spit and bile
come to the surface
and gurgle out around
my crooked teeth

all like a buzzing
of collected bees
under my wane and pale skin
and in silk covers
all wrapped in finery
face applied
and held still like granite
I find no comfort
and spew blood upon white gowns
and smiling sycophants

I spit up love
oh wretched thing that you are
I spit it up
onto the lapsing scenery
the collapsing dreamlessness of morrow's day
where garish sun sinks to Death's kingdom
and lovers become anchors
to my blackened vomitous soul
in the dark depths
of frozen oceans on the point of the known world

tread not where monsters touch
the faces of fair maidens
and in my fury
I am blind
o'er I catch your love all up
in all but these crooked sharpened teeth
and tear it to little bloody rags
on the edge of your fraying mercy

I cough up 'i love you'
in great black chunks
and gouge my green eyes out
for this is a vile and formless thing
this horrible love
that has found its way
to the bottom of my bottomless heart

Golgotha

I thought
'this must be
what fucking Jesus Christ
is like'

your hips slamming into the thickness
of my thighs
gasps unwillingly escaping
my lips
like little breathless prayers
to dieing saints

my fingers nestled in that crown
of flesh
teeth in my shoulder
I'm searching for
just the right feeling

just the right spot
for a holy vision
and black lights
sparkling before my face

your cheek pressed against mine
leaden breath
ragged in my ear
your fingertips dug
into the meat of my ass
I saw God
in your heavy eyes

your hardened flesh
the spear
little deaths all inside me
little resurrections with each
shuddering thrust

I can almost see your halo
a shining aura of golden light
your lips at my breast
trying to find how deep I go
this holy well
this fount of wicked blood

my tongue so nimble
it utters your secret name
as it wraps around you
snake that I am
with great curled horns
burden of knowledge

I can make you come
for eternity
and feel just how awful
goodness always is

Collections of Terrible Things

the best advice I ever got?
don't do drugs before a job interview

or maybe it was
brush your teeth after giving a blow job

or don't put bras in the dryer

I can't remember

what I do know is
all of this sucks
and my pussy gets wet
when I think of you

but I can't muster the forward momentum
to even bother getting out of bed
most mornings

and I sleep through beautiful
spring days
and wake up when the sun is setting
by the ocean
blinking it's big yellow eye at me
and my ennui

you punch yourself in the face
I swallow some pills
and a couple of drinks
and feel nothing

holy fuck
how do I feel this much
... nothing?

Nothing
not a thing
it's all just...

whatever

hey how about this?
how about we be terrible together?
we could be great in our awfulness
curl up in a little ball under the covers
and pretend the world wasn't out there
we could touch each other
be inside each other
taste each other
whisper little secrets to each other
lov... 
wait...
never-mind

even my masturbation is lazy
I drink beer in the shower
but neglect to wash my hair for days
it hangs about my face in lank strips
as I trip over the vacuum cleaner I left
in the middle of the floor

I had this inclination for a few minutes
that I would clean my life up
but instead the sucking reminded me
of the endless chasm of my life
and I collapsed exhausted on the couch
the floor only half cleaned

or maybe it reminded me of blow jobs

I can't remember which

...whatever

Your Ear is Bleeding

the scar tissue had grown up over my lips
or maybe it was my cunt
either way he wouldn't listen to me
wouldn't listen to what I had to say
wouldn't list what I had to yell
just put his hands over his ears
clenched his legs and hummed

hummed a stupid tune
a stupid tone
a stupid tomb
for his cock to die in

I jammed my knees up against his ribs
sunk them in
bruised my way to something to say
snapped his head back
and still
all he would yell was
'la la la la la la'
at the top of his lungs

'I'm not listening!'
sing song singing
even as I pried his hands away
from the sides of his head
even as I pressed my breasts against
his now blackened purple ribs
in a display of violent caressing that I knew
had to hurt
'I'm still not listening!
La! La! LA!
Not listening! Not listening!
NOT LISTENING!'

that's when I punched him in the face
rattled his teeth around inside his mouth
twin rivers of blood gushing from his nostrils
suddenly stunned into silence
both eyes as big as dinner plates
tongue working but nothing coming out
his cock limp
his hands useless
at his side
his lips swelling 

I took a deep shuttering breath,
shored up my anger,
clenched my legs and said,
'I love you,
and I don't like it.
Now stop bleeding on my sheets
and get the fuck out of here.'

Christ Chuck, What Next?

all these beautiful broken boys
and not one of them named Christ

I would break fingers with hammers
if I thought it would do any good
but saints feel no pain

and hate you when you press against them

I should have sold my soul
in a buyer's market
but now it's dirty and useless
like an old condom

and pretty boys don't want it anyways

saints hate to get dirty
and I live in mud

who the fuck let
all those wispy eyelashed looks in here?
sleeping at my shoulder
caressing my breasts
and whispering in my ear
that they love me
but only under the right conditions

like heavy alcohol
and heavier drugs
maybe when they are deep inside you

possibly if I was drowning in the bath
or maybe falling from the sky
on fire
like a comet of whore-like intentions
and a great big fucking
ball of promises

that I was never going to keep

Charles Bukowski said,
"Find what you love and let it kill you."

but I don't think the crusty old fucker meant like this
achingly slowly
my brain on fire every night
my cunt throbbing
waiting

humped over like a toad
creeping in the night
to slip down some unsuspecting victim's throat
and squeeze the air out of their heart

fucking saints
and their saintly touch
and their saintly fucking ways
and their beautiful eyes
and flowing hair
and silken skin
and stupid fucking sympathies

fucking kill me and get it over with
love me to death
so I can get up
and get that glass of whiskey
I've been thirsting for like blood
I need a shower
and maybe a plasma transfusion
so I can linger with the ghost of your cock still inside me

and by the way
you can tell Christ
when you see him next
that I told him
he should come down here
to pound in his own goddamn nails

my hammer is broken
and I'm tired of crucifixion anyways

Honey-Eyed

it was a crippled candy cane promise at best
the idea blooming in my mind
seeping out the edges
over the side of the bed
into a syrupy puddle on the floor

your arms wrapped hard around me
daylight an unwanted dream
I thought my thoughts
pouring honey in my ears
attracting ants marching up the wall

two by two they come
two by two

my world is dripping
sugaring my thighs into a sticky froth
spreading like peanut butter
your fingers find the way home
and you lick your lips twice

give it long enough
and sap becomes amber
deep within the chambers of my hive heart
queen of bees decorated teeth
my candied dreams pressed up against your back

deep breaths come
two by two
by two by two

and I stop
breathing that is
the river in my dreams thick as molasses
dark, rising up under my eyes
tearing down my face like frosted nightmares

my voice rather sticky
I find your flaxen skin under my fingertips

and march them
two by two by two
up the side of you body
slide my hand over your ribs
rest upon the flats of your belly
sticky fingers
sticky ideas

I close my eyes
thick in love
and you slip out the end of the sheets
sick of candy
pressing ants under your thumb
swatting bees from your eyes

and two by two
by a whole horde of fucking twos
I slip back down under a river of molasses
this wicked thing to do
opening my mouth
full of the blackest sugar
and scream

Lucifer In My Kitchen

dear Lucifer
tell them I love them
and when I close my eyes
I see them
and I smile a little
and I cry a little
and I dream up
a big black sky
telling my self
great big black lies
and little red truths

Lucifer, o' dear Lucifer
tell them I think of them
I took them home with me
I spoke them
to secret places
and I loved them
darkly and perfectly
for just a little while

Lucifer, my sweet Lucifer
save my kisses for them
tell them where
I am hidden
tell them to come
and find me
before I set this place
on fire
and fall asleep in the flames

Lucifer, my black king,
tell them
I was looking for them
and I will wait
until miracles light the skies
all red
and I finally
find my way home
to that dark kingdom
in the wilds

Quick Skin

curl your fingers around those green eyes
you cannibal man
eat me

I am not home
even when you found me here
tossing bottles out the window
and telling you to be quiet
so as to leave the neighbors
undisturbed

they are disturbed enough already

our minds plush
flushed like my thigh resting upon you
too white
too smooth
too much of what you want
fleeing into the night

peering out from under a curtain of hair
lips soft as moths
beating against the glass
the thrum in time to the vibration
where the world started
and I ended

you make choices
I make consessions
we make decisions
and you hate yourself in the morning

full banged on with a head clouded with stars
my mouth still lingering of your taste
your scent following me like a ghost
until I wash it from my skin
and skitter down the drain
to follow drowned goldfish
through the rusty pipes to the sea

we saw the same moon
said the same name
thought the same thought
and you feared me for it

you pushed me for it
slipped your fingers inside me for it
tasted me for it
nibbled little pieces of me for it
and spat me back out

yet you still
save my velvet name
until the next time
you are drunk
and the black night tells you
I don't want to be alone

Not Today

quick
rabbit heart
you beat too fast

i stood at the edge
watched you
slip out the door

quick
but smiling
dreamy eyed thing

fluttering
like a red bird
in my hand

i am not dead cells
tonight
not devouring

i am not fear
rest upon my lap
and find comfort

skin
milky and perfect
wreckless

breathing
fingers laced
in flowing hair

truth nearly there
quick
as the morning creeps

and i lay my head
down
and thought

someday
yes someday
but just not today

A Crooked Heart with a Crooked Door

the door to my heart
is soft and violent
and leans to the left
it's always slightly ajar
slamming loudly when the wind
whistles through my chest

if you hold my heart to your ear
you will hear the ocean
crashing onto distant shores
and the soft gurgling
of mountain streams
surrounded by over grown willow trees

opening my heart
reveals a wealth of coloured pebbles
and worn sea glass
little bits of broken shells
lined in wild rose thorns
stick to the sides
and cut your fingers

the meat tastes of peppermint
and wood smoke
traveling to a hole
in a clear limitless sky
with the dieing light of a thousand stars
stranded in the irises of my eyes

this heart feels like velvet
wrapped in crimson teeth
the colour of cat toes
slipping down the back fence
to that golden field
where the grasshoppers leaped
before my trodden feet

I close this door on you
cracked against the side of my pumping viens
this map to where I grew up
and where I ended up
you were knocking
rapping ever so gently
but you didn't really want in

you just wanted to toss
marbles in with my pebbles
rearrange my carefully shelved books
splash about in the brook
and break the branches off the willow trees
squashing crickets as you went
you wanted to cut down my fence
for firewood
and steal my cat
paint the door black
the crimson hue showing through
the sloppy brush strokes
and make a quilt
out of all that trailing velvet

the wind says I'm hollow
little droplets of garnet blood
stain the golden grass
as I go
the path before me
leading to the ocean
where I put my hands
in the mouths of sharks
and beautiful boys with soft lips
a careful lock now always
firmly placed upon
the weathered wood
of a badly painted tilting black door