Sunday, August 23, 2015

The Sacrificial Lamb

"You gotta make de sacrifice" -My asshole coworker.

I appreciate the whole
"hang in there, kitty"
motivational poster rhetoric,
it's so easy for people
who don't work to tell you
to do more from the tops
of their high and mighty horses
whilst I shovel all the shit.

I am so tired of
this double standard shell game
at wage slavery,
where what's good for the goose
poisons the gander and then
he's gotta fly many miles
without complaining because
he's the rookie and for some reason
in life, hating and hazing the newest recruit
makes sense instead of spending time
making sure they are trained,

God forbid I make a mistake
then it's a browbeating from the boss,
another black mark against my name,
like an annoying cluster of dug-in burrs
because the few fuck-ups are the only thing
anyone ever seems to remember.


The Predator

I dreamt of killing last night.

I enjoyed it.

Reveling in blood, crime, and fear,
I imagine this is how wolves feel,
gaining excitedly on the footfalls
of frightened prey,
sharp weapons held expectantly,
ready for the rush from murder

it shook me upon waking,
not because I was scared
of my viciousness bared,
because I enjoyed their pain,
their blood,
their fear,
their choked pleas for mercy,
fell lightly on deaf ears.

The Untouchable Diva

I am a sick fool
the Goddess of Destruction
will never just love

Expecting sorry
or the quenching rain of her
pure adoration

is a sad child's game
she craves unstable madness,
a rough grasp of pain

seeks abusive hooks
despite pleas for firm respect
they are all just lies

a stern refusal
from past trauma to heal up
from the rape of life

a real rake on her
mind, body, heart beaten and scarred
freezing her life hard

so much so frozen
when you can be inside her
but never reach her

leaving me wanting
not to save her through support,
but to just see her.

Sunday, July 12, 2015

Virtual Saikei

Sad and jealous spectator,
how long will you grit
your teeth on the sidelines
watching the online glory
of others similarly
swirling in an electronic vortex
of adulation and image management?

We love to trim
our social media bonsai
to hide the gnarled roots
of what is underneath,
but when you living for likes,
to uphold your internet glamour
what or who is real anymore?

Sunday, July 5, 2015

The Servant Laments

You will all miss me
when I'm gone.

Who will console you
when beloved trash is treating you like trash?

When your favorite backup plan
isn't around to pinch hit for your cherished men?

What will you do then?

What will you do when your drug intermediary
ain't so gladly merry to help your chemical need to escape?

Who will do for you then?

Who will soothe your ills
when everyone backs off?

Who will come around for you then?

Who will be there for you
as I stay deep in my den,

stirring only for the people
who remember me beyond being a means to an end?

Who will care for you then?


Enslavement

Sometimes,
I just want to be taken care of
not even aware of
the heavy saddle draped between
weary shoulder blades,
torturing myself with
social media maelstroms
melting away sense with resentment
causing a sore head
whilst I watch my friends
have fun while I work
through mine in many mines
barely consoling myself
by thinking the grass is
always greener in other people's lives

I am tired of holding the pickaxe
representing the social pact
that says if you work
yourself to death,
you might be rewarded
with mortal and divine respite
all I get is vicarious vomit
from watching others get
to exit or exempt
themselves from responsibility
life's most ruthless despot.

Monday, June 29, 2015

Showtime!

Underground carnival
barking through cars,
three ring wringers
squeezing dollars out of
trapped crowd,

Ralphie is the opening act,
selling basketball and baseball cards
and the free news
to the world at large
by giving him a dollar,
you give him a chance
at a hot meal,

after he rants and grouchily departs,
a whole new act comes,
bouncing through the car,
a roving dancing troupe jumping
really far,
aspiring stars risking lawsuits
and scars is par for the course
as they flip around the L train
as if it were the Danger Room.

Emotion Sickness

Summoned under false pretenses,
a whiff of hypothetical pussy
works to dull my narrow-eyed skepticism,
a dumb pigeon trapped under
a pulled crate,
poked awake
wide-eyed and twitching
when she wants to bleed on me

"Here it comes"
I muse sadly,
the flood of complaints like
a mudslide gurgling over
me about her work,
about our acquaintances
about how no man is ready for her
ready to be a man to be with her,
which is when a revelation occurred:

"I don't want to be with you ever"
I loved her and still had
a soft spot or two for her
but our relationship
would be good head
and a festival of grievances

The thing about allegiances
is we often feel we are
owed and owe in return,
the bullshit churn of
more giving than taking
but for me it would just be
nothing but faking.

Sunday, April 26, 2015

The Glass Friend

You all will miss me when I'm gone.

Who will console you
when trash is treating
you like trash?

When your favorite
backup plan isn't
around to pinch hit
for your cherished men

What will you do then?

What will you do when
your drug intermediary
ain't so gladly merry
to help fuel your
chemical need for escape?

Who will do for you then?

Who will soothe your ills
after everyone else backs off
before obligation barks,
dragging out guilted service from them

Who will care for you then?

Who will will be there for you
as I stay deep in my den,
stirring only for the people
who remember me beyond
being a means to an end?

Who will love you better than your glass friend?

The Mule

Sometimes,
I just want to be taken care of,
not even aware of
the heavy saddle draped
in between my worn shoulder blades,
torturing myself with
social media vortexes
causing a sore head
as I see my friends
live life while I
work through mine in many mines

I am tired of holding the pickaxe
representing a social pact
that says
work to death and you might be rewarded
with a hard-earned respite,
instead I taste vicarious vomit
watching others get theirs
handed to them with little effort,
so I slave for responsibility:
life's most ruthless despot.