poem of the day 04.23.12

stoned

i take the first batch of recyclables

into the basement

the newspapers and cardboard scraps

the super is down there

sweeping away everyone’s mess

he greets me curtly and then stops sweeping

so i know that we’re going to have a discussion about things

i just want to warn you, he says to me

about?

he smiles sadly

some of the neighbors are asking again

the super stops there because i know what he means

he means marijuana

they thought that it was either you

or the guy who lived in 1D

but he moved out, the super says

so? i say

so……

look, man, we went through this last year

the wife and i, much as we want to, don’t smoke pot

we wouldn’t even know who to buy it from

that’s what i told them, he says

i told them that it was the guy in 2J

you know him, right?

always happy and shouting,

shaking everyone’s hand and saying hi

the forty five year-old who still skateboards, i say

i tell them if they want to know

who’s smoking the weed here

to go up to 2J and talk to that guy

but they still think it’s us, i say

some of them do

we stand there for a second

i wonder who’s trying to root my wife and i out of our situation

the old bat who’s always sitting on the bench

in front of our apartment

or the brunette bitch who’s always walking her dog

and complaining to neighbors

about the amount of booze bottles in the recycle bins

neither of them have jobs

and are always nosing around the building

looking for some gossip or news

i wonder what it is about us

that makes them think we’re the ones doing

all of the drugs in the building

my greasy hair and unshaved face?

my desire to take the trash down in my underwear?

what despicable, typical cunts those women are

no one can ever leave anybody alone

in this crumbling empire

look, the super says to me, don’t worry about this

if someone bothers you, tell them to get fucked

i shake a fist

i’ll make them wish

that they were never born, i tell him

we both laugh

the super goes back to sweeping

and i get back on the elevator

in the apartment are all of the other recyclables

waiting to go downstairs

all of those booze bottles

and beer cans

but i let them go

i sit on the couch and wait for my wife to get home

with today’s batch of wine

think about ringing the guy in 2J

when i get the chance

see what he’s been up to lately.

                                                            

poem of the day 04.18.12

hunka-hunka

all of these little shakespeare’s out there
pissing out poems
and i’m stuck on another dead morning
listening to the radio
with nothing in my head
but the cost of food and comic books
i stare at the wall
at pictures of elvis presley
the icon of an era that is starting to become
dead and gone
and i think elvis never wrote any of his songs
he never had to sit there in the morning
with a headache
or a pinched nerve in his neck
plant his ass on a cheap, hardwood chair
and really try to figure out the subtle cadence
of love me tender
or what it meant to be a hunka-hunka anything
well, i feel like a hunka-hunka shit this morning
a morning where art is no pleasure
where it is no amazing pulse sensing through me
mornings like this
the very act of finding the word feels like work
like another goddamned job that i awaken to
there is no one in this room
to love me tender right now
there is not sympathy for the poor fool
who cannot write
who cannot create at his own command
hell, i wish that i were elvis this morning
have someone else sit in this four-walled cell
and do all the grudge work
sweat out line after line
while all i did was put on a gold suit
curl my lips and swivel my hips
make the good girls scream
and wet their little panties
like they used to do on television
every time that bastard from tupelo
showed up
to sing someone else’s songs
making them all believe that they
were his
and his alone.

poem of the day 04.17.12

asshole cab driver

asshole cab driver
pulls the car over crookedly
on lexington avenue
and when the girls jump out
he races out of his door
and grabs one of their bags
which shatters on the pavement
asshole cab driver
starts to go through one girl’s purse
as the other girl stands on the street
screaming
asshole cab driver
is looking for his money
even though the girls offered to pay him
they are shouting to anyone
and everyone
to call the police
but all of the asshole people
standing around
aren’t doing anything but gawking
or taking photos for their facebook pages
so their asshole friends can see
what a cool time they had in new york city
asshole cab driver
grabs the other girl’s purse
he has them both now
and the three of them are doing
a sick dance right on lexington
as the asshole people keep staring
my wife asks one of these citizens
to call the cops
she begs him, please
but the asshole just smiles and shakes his head
continues to film
asshole cab driver
while he tussles with the two girls
my wife looks at me
we have to do something, she says
i know, i say
because my wife and i are a couple of
do-gooder assholes
we’ve gotten involved everywhere
from new orleans to paris
so i walk over to
asshole cab driver
i tell him, look, let the women go
the asshole looks at me and says
i got no beef with you man
i tell him that he does now
i hope that i sound like clint eastwood
or stallone
or one of those other hollywood assholes
but i probably sound scared
still, i’m a big guy
and as soon as i step forward
asshole cab driver
lets the women go
but not before taking out his own phone
to get a picture for posterity
my wife and i
follow the girls down lexington as
asshole cab driver
continues to shout
as the asshole people continue
to take their photos
my wife keeps asking the girls
if they’re all right
but i’m worried that she and i
will end up on youtube’
looking like a couple of assholes
breaking up another new york city fight
at the corner we say goodbye
to the girls
they look shaken
will probably never visit this city
full of assholes ever again
and when we cross the street
there come a couple of cops our way
two buzz-cut assholes
strolling like lovers down the avenue
i ask them if they are headed
toward the scene of the crime
they both nod
then move down the block toward
asshole cab driver
who’s still standing there
like every other asshole
baking in the warm spring sun.

poem of the day 04.16.12

atheism

i read that atheism
is on the rise in america

and i walk down lexington avenue
in the sun of easter
watching dull families promenade
in bonnets and pastels

i tell myself not to believe
everything that i read

but the article is insistent
a rise in atheists and other non-believers

the nons, they are called

millions of lost sheep
tired of the political back and forth
the social warrior posturing by those
jockeying for office

and the people are worried about a godless state

they say the atheists have no moral compass
although nearly every war
has been started by a good christian, jew or muslim

they say that an atheist
is more likely to be a rapist
or to leave the scene of an auto accident

and i wonder about the dipshits
being interviewed for this article

did they conduct it at a mall
or inside of a mcdonald’s during lent?

i worry about the state of mind
of the average god fearing american

because it is fear
that makes them talk this way

fear of losing their grip
on the plight of humanity

it burns them up
to come across the godless

for every head case they meet they think
there must be a cause for a loss of faith

and not just basic logic and reason
or a desire to make it count in the here and now

the god-loving think that there
must be something deficient in those
who don’t believe their particular catechism

maybe there is
after all, we’ll never know the answer
while sitting here together on this rock

the atheists could be lacking
the religious could be lacking more

maybe only the buddhists have it right

all life is suffering

but still, the devout call the atheists
the most hated group in america

worse than a bleeding heart liberal
or a manic islamist walking with a ticking time bomb
down main street

for love and hate go hand in hand
so beautifully to the pious and self-righteous

hell, even adolph hitler believed in god

poem of the day 04.11.12

between stupidity and jealousy

i always think the worst
of children in this digital age

that they are
lazy, dull, and ignorant
slabs of flesh

but here it is
a saturday morning in april

a stone’s throw
from my thirty-eighth birthday

and i’m walking behind some kid
down a dewy spring street

heading to work
with another goddamned hangover
and a pathetic lunch

while in his hands
this kid has

movies, video games
and a worn looking baseball glove

a whole day
clasped to his breast
as he knocks on a neighbor’s door

and is let inside
by someone’s beautiful mother

while i continue
down the drowsy street alone

my mind stuck somewhere
between stupidity and jealousy

my heart like a hangman’s noose
in the stiff, yellow sun.

Media Virus Magazine

hello all

i have a couple of poems up, courtesy of the folks
at Media Virus Magazine.

Jg