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| I've loved Voxtrot since like 2008 Tumblr days, so of course I am stoked to bother Ramesh! |
in the calm light of mild philosophy
using reason to temper my impulses.
and especially emotions.
got a flat tire this morning.
which put my impressions to the test.
and especially emotions.
got a flat tire this morning.
which put my impressions to the test.
our life is what our thoughts make it.
from the bustle to the busts.
I shall view the busy world.
as free from the intrigues of villains.
My fake friends channel Montreal cool and post-punk edge while listening to an LP
The world is crowded,
friends drift in and out of the vocal stacks,
lifting the choruses without turning life into a guest parade,
people who’ve shared bills, basements, cheap beers,
and bad shifts adding their voices
because they were there and it made sense.
It is nostalgic without looking backward,
modern without chasing trends,
a vibe that hits with confidence
earned through years of loud rooms
and coming out the other side sharper than when I went in.
modern without chasing trends,
a vibe that hits with confidence
earned through years of loud rooms
and coming out the other side sharper than when I went in.
It feels like standing outside a venue
in the dead of winter, steam rising off your jacket,
friends yelling your name across the street,
and the city humming under your feet.
The quick, unsentimental reflexes of a survivalist or the mien of a thug?
I have seemed to float on an unquiet sea,
borne along a dark tide of alcoholism
and violence, abuse and shame.
I’ve inherited things I wish not
to pass along to my daughter,
as daunting as it is to suppress
or better yet heal from the fissures.
I cannot keep pretending that the years of my youth
have not long affected me in heart, soul and spirit.
It broke my heart, it broke my body later on,
It changed my perspective and made everyday hungry
I’ve inherited things I wish not
to pass along to my daughter,
as daunting as it is to suppress
or better yet heal from the fissures.
I cannot keep pretending that the years of my youth
have not long affected me in heart, soul and spirit.
It broke my heart, it broke my body later on,
It changed my perspective and made everyday hungry
and hard as coffin nails.
With the heart of a wayward poet
the comedy of a existentialist,
the philosophy of a prisoner,
and the happiness of a doting dad
I persist in passion and sacrifice.
With the heart of a wayward poet
the comedy of a existentialist,
the philosophy of a prisoner,
and the happiness of a doting dad
I persist in passion and sacrifice.
RIP JVDB
I tried to incorporate big words
due to Dawson's Creek.
His character liked movies,
like me.
He died from the same cancer
as me.
I try to make myself
the hero of these poems.
But I am either the villain
or the victim.
Fatal Follies of a Former Scumbag
She taps her High Life
with her navy blue nails
along to a Broken Social Scene
song on the outdated juke.
Hours ago, she blew me
in the bathroom of a bookstore,
as if it were any other
night in Brooklyn.
Ten years prior,
I would've pulled an irish exit,
but now I have too much respect
for the wicked.
I make the same mistakes,
but don't have the excuse of booze,
so I just fall in love for the night,
and write her a poem in the morning.
Dead Hope
Meet me at Los Amigos
in Burbank
for an afternoon taco lunch
under the Warner Bros.
water tower...
For a long time,
I was good
at getting lost,
and now
I just want
to be found.
I'll take La Cienega
all the way from LAX,
just to except your fate,
they mistake.
Innerstanding
Do you see the scorpions
in the shadows?
It never occurred to me
that giraffes have nowhere
to go during a storm.
Do jellyfish burp?
Life is beautiful,
because it is instinctually brief.
What the hell am I?
I am just an animal
eating Ruffles in bed.
Sonder
The fog laps at the lawn,
Like a sea of dreams.
A mourning dog barks
In the indifferent distance.
An afternoon of lonesomeness
Just hits harder than dawn.
As the day is laid out
To a sovereign idiot such as myself.
I’m only winning
Be a hare’s breath.
My brown eyes
Betray these animalistic inquiries.
I may be stoned but Led Zeppelin's "Ramble On" has a sick bassline!
I am the exception,
and the inception.
I'd date ya,
and attach myself to your fate
if it weren't for my own.
Cancer really messes
with one's dating life.
Let's listen together
to Led Zeppelin
and Thin Lizzy.
The future is fucked
so let's skip the bullshit and just fall in love.
Another Silly Sunrise
Just dragged the trash can
through the snow to the curb.
lol.
I made a hockey bet
on the New Jersey Devils;
they lost and I yelled
Devils to myself.
lol.
Went to Arby's
and they now have
a small peach cobbler desert,
which was Troy Foyil's fave.
lol.
small mercies like these
are the best, because
when you count them,
they outnumber the depressing days.
lol.
these little victories,
like Arby's
and another silly sunrise
add up.
Just a cute little slice of my night...
"Last Caress" by Misfits comes on.
I turn it up, along with the heat.
It is cold in South Florida.
And I am waiting for my daughter
to get out of a pool party.
I forgot my beanie.
My bald head is what is making me cold.
And lack of white blood cells.
I hope my daughter brings me a slice of cake.
A bunny hops in the dark front yard.
My daughter and her friends climb into the backseat.
I turn down the Misfits.
"Dad, can we drive Izzy and Jemma home?"
"Of course. Hey, y’all!"
Jemma asks if we can go to Chipotle.
No.
LOL.
They giggle the whole ride.
About Molly starting drama.
And boys being annoying.
We drop Jemma off.
Making sure she gets inside ok.
We drop Izzy off.
Making sure she gets inside ok.
My daughter fills me in.
on the rest of hot gossip.
which is just silly, adorable.
middle school girl stuff.
I ask her if she swam.
She says the pool was too cold.
I ask her if she ate.
They had Domino's.
She didn't bring me any cake.
life cycle of the roses
look at these beautiful things
with these thorny legs to them
and [the story of this] blossom
that goes on and then dies.
reminders that we’re not living in a completely industrial hellscape.
sunrises.
birds.
music.
coffee.
pizza exists!
and chocolate chip cookies.
laughter.
making love.
poetry.
pottery.
fuck it, Pottery Barn!
a couch you didn’t earn but will nap on anyway.
the ocean.
the trees.
the backs of beautiful girls’ knees.
that soft place where summer rests.
handwritten notes.
late trains that still get you home.
dogs who forgive immediately.
Taco Bell!
birds.
music.
coffee.
pizza exists!
and chocolate chip cookies.
laughter.
making love.
poetry.
pottery.
fuck it, Pottery Barn!
a couch you didn’t earn but will nap on anyway.
the ocean.
the trees.
the backs of beautiful girls’ knees.
that soft place where summer rests.
handwritten notes.
late trains that still get you home.
dogs who forgive immediately.
Taco Bell!
old movies on sick days.
used bookstores that smell like dust and hope.
pay phones that won’t work but still listen.
used bookstores that smell like dust and hope.
pay phones that won’t work but still listen.
wasting time in record stores.
shared fries.
shared fries.
pancakes for the table!
extra guac.
stretching in the morning without pain.
cheap wine in real glasses.
extra guac.
stretching in the morning without pain.
cheap wine in real glasses.
expensive champagne in red solo cups.
a song that knows your childhood.
a green light all the way through town.
windows open at night.
rain that doesn’t ask permission.
sleep that arrives unannounced.
a song that knows your childhood.
a green light all the way through town.
windows open at night.
rain that doesn’t ask permission.
sleep that arrives unannounced.
an empty row on an airplane.
warm laundry.
something you thought you lost.
finding money in old coats.
inside jokes that survive decades.
something you thought you lost.
finding money in old coats.
inside jokes that survive decades.
the first sip of cold water.
the last slice nobody claimed.
stretch marks that tell the truth.
forgiveness that sneaks up on you.
sirens that fade instead of arrive.
a voicemail you never delete.
library cards.
sirens that fade instead of arrive.
a voicemail you never delete.
library cards.
love!
bare feet on tile.
a good pen.
crossing something off a list.
underlined sentences that underline you.
the smell of fresh bread.
the sound of a screen door shutting in autumn.
the luxury of boredom.
the smell of fresh bread.
the sound of a screen door shutting in autumn.
the luxury of boredom.
plans canceled kindly.
holding hands at red lights.
laughing in the wrong place.
crying in the right one.
silence that isn’t lonely.
a stranger saying bless you.
weather that matches your mood.
someone remembering your name.
leftovers that taste better.
someone remembering your name.
leftovers that taste better.
late sunsets.
early mercy.
love.
love!
Books that poke through plastic bags
I don’t want videos of
people getting shot in Minnesota.
I want books that argue with death.
I bought some classics
at Five Below
A Christmas Carol
and Frankenstein.
A book of criticism
at Barnes & Noble
by the mall.
Some randos
from Dollar Tree
off Route 441.
I fake reiki
in the false calm
of January.
I don’t like knowing
my actions will shape my daughter.
And I don’t like knowing
that even my best ones
will still hurt her
a little.
So I buy books
to be better,
and show her that life
is about learning.
people getting shot in Minnesota.
I want books that argue with death.
I bought some classics
at Five Below
A Christmas Carol
and Frankenstein.
A book of criticism
at Barnes & Noble
by the mall.
Some randos
from Dollar Tree
off Route 441.
I fake reiki
in the false calm
of January.
I don’t like knowing
my actions will shape my daughter.
And I don’t like knowing
that even my best ones
will still hurt her
a little.
So I buy books
to be better,
and show her that life
is about learning.
New New Year’s Resolution
Don’t match other people’s energy—
some of it is radioactive,
some of it runs on panic
and cheap applause.
I will guard my frequency
like a small, stubborn flame,
warm enough to keep going,
not loud enough to burn the house down.
This year I choose response over reflex,
breath over bravado,
and the quiet power
of staying myself.
some of it is radioactive,
some of it runs on panic
and cheap applause.
I will guard my frequency
like a small, stubborn flame,
warm enough to keep going,
not loud enough to burn the house down.
This year I choose response over reflex,
breath over bravado,
and the quiet power
of staying myself.
icesk8er88 Apologist
what's it like living in sugar hill?
or do you say The Heights
cuz its cooler?
I bought drugs
in St. Nicks Park once,
and a Lacoste jacket
on 140th and Malcom X Blvd.
but thats Striver's Row.
if you live up there,
ya gotta listen to Big L,
the best rapper to never
make it big.
have you been to Mama's Too?
one of my favorite pizza places.
It's a little south of you
on Broadway between 106th and 105th.
these are the dumb things
I would say to you
if you ever called.
I'd apologize
but avoid the past,
and cancer crap.
we can never be together
but I wish we could be friends
and hook up every now and then.
Stolen Notes Towards Something...
with summer breath,
Ronda, Spain,
heat caught in stone,
your laugh echoing off the gorge
like it knew it would be remembered.
some pregnancy, perhaps,
a phrase held lightly,
as if saying it too loudly
might make the future flinch.
July on Enders Island, forthcoming,
days stretched thin as salt air,
nothing urgent,
everything important.
portrait of winter out west,
light slanting across distance,
cold enough to tell the truth
without cruelty.
between us unraveled,
not a breaking,
just threads loosened
so we could see the pattern.
below your uprooting,
roots exposed,
soil still clinging,
learning what stays when the ground changes.
living in DC with you, forthcoming,
an address we haven’t memorized yet,
already folded
into the word home.
Ronda, Spain,
heat caught in stone,
your laugh echoing off the gorge
like it knew it would be remembered.
some pregnancy, perhaps,
a phrase held lightly,
as if saying it too loudly
might make the future flinch.
July on Enders Island, forthcoming,
days stretched thin as salt air,
nothing urgent,
everything important.
portrait of winter out west,
light slanting across distance,
cold enough to tell the truth
without cruelty.
between us unraveled,
not a breaking,
just threads loosened
so we could see the pattern.
below your uprooting,
roots exposed,
soil still clinging,
learning what stays when the ground changes.
living in DC with you, forthcoming,
an address we haven’t memorized yet,
already folded
into the word home.
The Varna System
Believe me...
From the colors of my spring
to the Kshatriyas.
From the easy evil
to Roland Flint.
From cancer
to Diogenes.
...I wanna believe like a child.
Going to the Oncologist on Groundhog Day
Drove to Boca 100 times today,
passed a Thai place in Deerfield Beach
where a gorgeous girl works.
Forgot to send her
my favorite Tom Petty song
back in 2023.
She still thinks her job defines her,
and I still think
I could bartend.
I am so glad I don't
work in a restaurant
in 2026.
The service in South Florida sucks;
it's mostly girls in leggings calling me 'bruh'
or boys in shorts scrolling their phones.
I pass an Arby's
and crank up 'Walls' by Tom Petty,
from the "She's The One" soundtrack.
I read her poems
in the waiting room,
with my mask and beanie on.
Cancer should change me
like a giant epipheral party
in my egoless soul.
But I can still be petty,
especially in traffic,
with no place to put good news.
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