A Poem a Day Keeps the Zoloft Away @apoemadaykeepsthezoloftaway-blog - Tumblr Blog

The voice in my head

God damn boy, is that how much you’re worth?

The measly penance they grant you as deemed by a law man,

law man don’t know your problems,

law man all cozed up with a wife

wrapped up in picket fenced McMansions

while you flippin burgers and cleaning trays

and taking shit from everybody,

cause everybody been your boss your whole damn life,

teachers, parents, police, politicians, god damn liars and thieves,

stealing your time,

and for what?

For what you giving up splendor?

7.50 and hour, damn son

you shore got it made.

After sweating and getting yelled at and dying slowly in front of them they give you just enough to find a place to sleep and put some food in your belly to boot.

I can’t see why anybodyed be unhappy at such offerings.

GOD DAMN POISON, TREACHOROUS POISONS IS ALL IT IS.

Just tattoo the god damn barcode on your forehead,

it’ll make it easier for them to buy you that way.

Change out your hand for a magnetic strip so you can keep spending while you’re at it.

Spending just enough, with the help of all your other dumbass brothers and sisters, for them to keep the hook in.

Spending so they can keep turning the meat grinder and spit out the nitrates for the beautiful soil that you’ll never be a part of.

So they can grow their beautiful crops you’ll never get to eat.

Keep spending, keep slaving, keep getting into debt, it’ll give you something to do,

since you got every notion to keep doing.

Instead of stopping, just stop, just stop, just stop.

I pray, I a man that don’t know God, don’t know pity, I pray for you to stop.

Breathe, realize, then breathe some more.

Feel the body you have, stand in awe of it, shimmer inside your beautiful thoughts long enough and you might just see what I see.

Get out from under the distractions they try to shove in your face, stop paying to watch the magician, the rabbit will always pop out of the hat for no reason other than the fact that that’s the way the magic man wants it to,

he wants you to keep paying for him to do nothing.

Stop and breathe and realize we can be other than them. We can find our unhappynesses and decapitate them, throw them into bonfires, strip our clothes off, paint our naked bodies with their gore and run around the blaze in beautiful bliss of each other.

So you go ahead now, make up your mind,

do you want to be the blood meal, the mulch, the pesticide, their chemical, their preservative, their lie, stay in their audience and keep paying them money to do the same damn trick they been doin since some mother fucker a long time ago decided to start the whole damn show by pulling the first rabbit out of the hat, by cracking the first whip, by dreaming the first damn dumb ass splendor of manufacturing, by saying that this man here is less than?

Or do you want to be beautiful and free?

#poetry #prose #slam #rant #Oppression sucks

Luster

There she is,

neon skirt hugging the bottom of a firm pear,

Bustier lace bows trespass every couple of inches down the back of tanned legs,

my imagine drifts to the Latin Quarter in Paris and frills and thrills with rouged lips and red faces,

but she does this for fun, for attention,

to be different,

not knowing that every time I see the blue and red shaded bows, all I can think about is the oldest profession in the world,

imagine what her father thought.

Who’s fault are these derelict thought tick tocking through my dial and his dial and possibly her dial

if not

then who stopped her intelligence and wrote the prescription for ignorance,

or wrote the insensitive banter on my brain,

what do I care if it’s a free show,

enjoy what you don’t have to pay for,

enjoy the perk tit girl with nipples poking straight ahead, two fleshy magnets attracting bad decisions and cheap addictions, with the smell of menthol cigarettes and sexual encounters lingering on her person,

I’m just another hot headed nigger on the prowl.

Wanting to put her hands and mouth and sex on my trigger

with one in the chamber,

safety off,

gunmetalbarrel scraping against my lips.

Every man can only look for so long before he talks himself into it.

I’ll buy her for the month but with something more costly than money.

But maybe she’ll change and

and we’ll leave for the mountain ranges devoid of people and

we can teach each other how

to live without talking and learn

how to sleep without bedding,

stripping ourselves of all knowledge and evidence

that a world outside of our collective

solitude exists,

leaving only red and blue, bustier lace bows tattooed on her naked legs.

#poetry #prose #sex #love #dreams

Near Death

Riding my bike every day, being passed by cars full of fat fucks with fake handicaps, that barely give me space as they pass,

fuck them,

I’m gonna get smeared on this river

of pavement

because some fuck’s gotta get home

to a wife that he’ll eventually divorce.

They’d take a want from me

the same want that the three time divorcee has

when entering the orthodontist’s

just so she can keep on looking for her soulmate,

they’d take away from me the chance to

stand in awe of the northern lights

which I told myself I would see before 2010,

they would seal my failure and

take away my redemption,

No more of the world, no more heat lightning, nor more running under heat lightning on empty streets with no lamps to impede the absolute bravado of a silent orchestra in the sky, Zues’ slender fingers directing a real tear jerker,

they would capsule me in the grave with 25 accumulated years of self-doubt because I still am not happy with the success I have drawn from life,

they cut the miles off my journey I needed,

the come-back kid miles, the golden age, the last hoorah and stepping down stage are all gone,

my moments of joy,

food is gone, burgers, cheesy, bacony, greasy burgers are gone, burgers covered in peanut M&Ms, wrapped in boudin, with a side of cracklings,

sex is gone, naked naps with midday lovers are gone,

sleeping is gone, the undercurrent of doing anything is sleep, either you’re tired or wired, doing something before you go to sleep or sleeping before you can get to something, it was the step father I never had,

The zombie apocalypse, the nuclear fallout, the Aztec curse, Buscemi and Willis and Affleck saving us from a comet while Liv Tyler gets naked and says a bunch of stuff in hoarse whispers,

the times I wished for or swooned after are gone

in the place of this persons urgent need to not

pay attention to the road for whatever insignificant

reason, the text they had to answer,

where is our discipline if this happens,

if this happens once then no faith can be had,

fuck the rising divorce rates, let’s talk about rising manslaughter.

All these thoughts in a millisecond, because a car almost hits me,

what do other people think?

#poetry #prose #bikes #life #death

Words as stones

One year of words,

one year of measuring words by days,

365 days of organized words plus an

extra day of organized words because it is a leap year,

so 366 days of organizing thoughts

through cuneiform and uniformed intended importance,

imported through my emotions and exported by pen and tongue,

366 days of my soul yelling,

my soul is hoarse,

the need to force the words doesn’t stop but becomes

second nature

like Sisyphus must have eventually felt about

that damn stone.

At some point he would have named it

and it became his family or his view or his meaning or

Sisyphus became the stone and looked back at an empty shell

pushing for empty purposes

but doing it because that’s the only thing to do.

#367

#poetry #prose #poem #writing #one year of words

The Apple Orchard

One night

I wandered the apple orchard

and I ran through that twilit arbor

losing myself and went

looking for another self

in the bright arcs of light

emanating from deep within

the dense foliage,

the deeper I got the faster I ran

or the faster I watched myself run

while I watched thick green bunches of leaves speckled with

maroon apple dots

all covered in the silver blanket

of stars and moon.

#366

#poetry #prose #poem #writing #solipsism in an arbor at night

A dying man once told me

Take a big bite mother

fucker, let the juices dribble

down a parched gullet, the

juicy redness is all you’re

gonna get before you die.

#365

#poetry #prose #poem #writing #what to do to avoid regret at death

Devil Engines

It doesn't really matter

that the boy had tries,

his failure was all to be

imprinted on the synapses,

consolation came with

devil women riding nightmare hopes

full speed

into garish lands with no healing to be found.

So he clutched at

everything he could to

make the end come sooner.

Rather than later.

#364

#poetry #prose #poem #writing #the devil gets the best of all of us

The Painter

I went to God’s house one day

and snuck into his studio,

hiding myself under manila drops and

used canvases.

He came home late that night, drunk

with whiskey rage

and opened his paint pots to

begin a new piece

dashing ragered and sadnessblue,

mixing lushforrestgreen with mountaintopskylinepurple

to make navajojewleryteal,

streaking the magnificent girlonafirstdateflusteredsexualtensionroseyorange

across the gotmypaycheckgonnagodrinkforathreedayweekendneonsignbluegold

and after hours of brush strokes he stood back

heaving deep,

and before I could even take in the completed work

he lit the heavenly oils with his finger tips

and said:

“No one will understand it for what I want it to be,

why let it live for that?”

#363

#poetry #prose #poem #writing #god has self esteem issues #art

Weaving Weaving Weaving

Do I wanta pick up a needle

and help thread the noise blanket

we all sow in order to sleep?

#362

#poetry #prose #poem #writing #noise is not the cure but it sure does help

Clearing the Sinuses

Riding with the train

dirty kid

holes in pockets

no matter cause there ain’t

nothing to put in ‘em.

Gotta purchase that next

breath of clear country side,

that’s all,

just gotta clear out and get

back to where you were

born lifetimes ago,

the place strips you of the

filth accumulated over a

lifetime’s begging and bad

decisions,

clear the sinuses,

clear the ifs and the can’ts,

clears it all till just a boy

hopping on a train

and hoping for a better place is left,

passing hotels, passing rented rooms, passing rented people,

I’m gonna own myself

just as long as the place is

clear.

The skyline will cure all of

the scrapes.

#361

#poetry #prose #writing #poem #crust kids need love too #hopping trains saves lives

The lucky ones

The ones who get lucky,

they like everything.

The downtrodden

just can’t trust big things,

they crush small things too easily.

#360

#poetry #prose #poem #writing #rich people eat poor people

Birds at an Intersection

Winged Black splotches

rested on the telephone wires

against the reddening

skyline,

all day they had sat

screaming in their

high pitched voices,

yelling obscenities and

insults to the men they

saw,

trying to share truth with

man for centuries and failing had

mad them irate.

#359

#poetry #prose #poem #writing #birds can talk if we listen

When the world ends, beauty will still be around

I had a premonition

of the future Civil War,

where I stood at the edge of

blood pools looking into the dense

forest

and seeing the dapple grey horse

trod through Lily splotches

not caring or noticing the chaos around it,

just enjoying its patch of beautiful

and my vision shook then

as the words fall short now

to describe the phenom.

#358

#poetry #prose #poem #writing #beauty is eternal

In my sacred forest lair I did ensnare my beautiful, singing woman

I came across a

woman singing

bubbles into the air

amidst thickets of

birds and crickets.

I took a net of nettles

woven tight with blue jay

feathers

and captured her

and the

thickets of

birds and crickets

could not cover

her screams.

As I dragged

her,

blood splattered

from miniscule

cuts

leaving a trail of red on moss,

sharp

sticks and jagged

rocks popped the bubble screams gushing them

into a popped blood bubble river,

the bloodlust had gotten the better

of me as I sucked the marrow

from her while she was still alive.

I often think of the bubbles which once floated

among the thickets of

singing birds and chirping crickets.

#357

#poetry #prose #poem #writing #I'm gonna kill the innocent before anyone else gets a chance

Sublimation

My Gram’s

parched, soft hands

and parched, soft voice,

void of anything

except rosary

whispers.

Telling me all the obscure Saints.

The picture painted from

her parched, soft words makes eternity all pajamas

and halos with gold lutes

and angelic flowers,

I stopped having a grandmother at

some point,

now she’s just a walking prayer card

we are all waiting to be misplaced.

#357

#poetry #prose #writing #poem #grandmothers die before they get dead

I met a good girl and turned her bad

Cause no one

that wears

tights that tight

is innocent,

everyone’s guilty in the

Bowery,

I’m gonna get mine

from her

and she gonna have

to learn to get hers

or she ain’t gonna get,

we all take a turn

on Fortune’s Wheel in the

slums much more poignantly

than the rich ones.

#355

#poetry #prose #poem #writing #good girls always give it up #fuxking dirty words

I against You

I put down childish things

because I am no longer

a child,

but I will not pick up

Mannish things,

because I have never seen a

Man,

he is a myth preached by

posterity as an

absent minded attempt

to proclaim strong roots

in the place of termite

ridden rot.

I will pick up a mate

though,

I will make children,

I will suit myself to bodily

pleasure by marking my

body priority #1

then I shall die

and burn all my

accomplishments so no one

can attempt to call me a

man who helped humanity.

#354

#poetry #prose #poem #writing #posterity and shit

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