Timely is the Garden

Flowering in insurrection
What blooms under glass never expands

Let us be defiant
Scatter the matted ashes
and begin again in the fullness of our time

(Tehran, Tehran, Tehran- a shadowed dream of sunshine and beaten rugs hanging exposed. Tehran Tehran Tehran- exsisting only in my father's language and inattention to detail.)

Let us be defiant
Tear down the scattered paintings
shroud ourselves in shrapnel
if martyrdom is the cause to which we will degrade ourselves
then these flesh-ridden bulleted skeletons march

When I grow up- (in lieu of my nativity which is approaching perniciously)

When I grow up my father will buy me a pony
so that later, in the street, I will not starve

When I grow up I will be an astronaut
hermetically sealed in a miasma of my own excretion

When I grow up I want to be in movies
freezing myself forward through the design of my intent

When I grow up I will plant a flower for every love
so that I may walk forever in my garden

When I grow up I will find Area 51
and beg them to send me home

Imperative (Not a Pejorative (not necessarily))

Be a good boy drink all your fruits and vegetables and process the plastics and toxins that you need

For instance: Eat the HoHo and the wrapper to avoid pollution and to bring your nutritional absorption slightly out of the red

Don't worry, by the time you are big enough my baby boy they will be making organic whole wheat Ho-Hos with fresh cream and a triumphant man will address you from the box and claim that finally we are making progress

Saving the planet is something I plan to do before I am fifty. And die. But by then we will have cut you into roughly the shape we want you to be and I am sure you will be totally capable of filing down the detail

Scribble Two:

The essence of this life is the jaw cracking in agony, a slow festering that imobilizes the mouth and cuts down the clavicle.

All I am is hunger, a yawning black maw that cries futility for that which is intolerable to it. A yearning for breadth, for depth. Cut back the flesh and peel the bulbous veins from it's surface- Cmon doc I want to boldly go where no man has gone before.

Startin' something

so hey I am an artist sort of

so word poems from here on out I guess, until I can think of something better. this is the refuse, the post-it note throwaway poem/prose space. So I can wad these ideas up and toss them out

Believe indoctrination
the senseless violence that calls itself victory
and threes are serial injectors, stealing catharsis as trophies

I will not be a king or a martyr or a lunatic or a fool
I live endless, swirled
mired in the paint and slashed in syllables
cut from the cloth that
is the only gift a man will buy you

I write happy poems when
I safely despise every inch of you
when I shine incandescent from within my bulbous veins
not ever sugar makes me manic
spikes the core of me solid