Saturday, February 25, 2017

online dating

i'm a male, twenty-seven,
white, brown hair, green eyes,
about six feet two, one eighty,
looking for a match.

five foot five or shorter,
but not too, and around one twenty,
hair any, eyes any (redhead a plus),
between twenty-one and twenty-six.

non-smoker, preferably employed,
somewhat active but not too,
lives relatively close to me
and is open about religion.

also, like, it's cool if she has a degree,
but not something lame like philosophy,
she needs to be smart, you know?
so maybe something with computers...
no conservatives, no jesus lovers,
and she shouldn't have a lot of baggage,
so past relationships are OK but nothing
too serious - she doesn't have to be a virgin
but she can't have blown another guy.
(also while we're on sex it's a plus if she
doesn't expect me to go down on her.)
in terms of body type i'm pretty flexible,
i mean i want SOME boobs, but not picky...
and definitely like the hourglass shape,
but not if it means she's fat.
she also needs to get my sense of humor...
and it's a plus if she has a cute laugh.
i want her to want to cuddle with me
but also like give me my space sometimes.
if she can cook that's cool but if not OK,
but she has to like sushi - non negotiable.

<<MATCH NOT FOUND.>>
<<ACCEPT OTHERS' FLAWS OR BE ALONE FOREVER>>
<<LEARN TO LOVE SOMEONE FOR WHO THEY ARE>>
one of the things we forgot to do
in planning for my father's funeral
was cancel the newspaper he read,
its delivery one sunday a surprise.

my mother didn't read them,
but he always would, in his chair
after dinner, with a cup of coffee
leaving a ringed stain on most pages.

when it came i recalled
one night as a child when i read with him,
mine being a comic in a bazooka joe
in what would have made for a good picture.

i sat down with the paper,
and read every story, and wondered
what he would've thought about this,
and knowing what he'd hate about that.

when i was done i recycled it all,
called up the company to cancel,
and explained how we wouldn't need it,
since i was buying my mom a computer.

muse

every day after school
we'd drive over to kenny's,
where dave and his buddies
played shitty music for hours.

they started out on love songs,
which were easy enough to write
with the butterflies of a new fling
and the novelty of screwing someone new.

yet ballads like "never loved anyone
as much as i've loved you"
gave way to "slipping away
like sand through my fingertips."

like i said - it was shitty music,
and while by the end i was still inspiration,
i was no longer one for love,
but for heartbreak and loss.

dave had more muses after me,
each one providing a spark
before burning out like a flare,
a signal for help in a sea of regret.

Friday, April 08, 2016

if you google suicidal thoughts
they'll give you a hotline number,
which you can call whenever you like,
sometimes every day, for a few weeks.

you can call for any reason you want,
maybe you're fat and lonely
with few friends
and a porn addiction.

maybe the chic-fil-a girl
you think is cute and
mustered up the courage to talk to
laughed at you with her friends.

could be your drunk dad yells at your mom
and makes her cry
before storming out of the house
as you pray he dies in a wreck.

then again, maybe you're not fucked up,
or if you are, it's something else.
there's lots of reasons to want to die,
you don't have to steal mine.

secrets

the secrets to my happiness
is one i learned a while ago,
to let the small stuff pass you by
and remain steadfast in the moment.

trying desperately not to break
promises we make ourselves,
to spend more time living,
and less time being alive.

to truly appreciate the finiteness
of every minute, hour, and life
and avoid as much as possible
the allure of distraction until death.

to expose yourself to joy and pain
and be unafraid of what comes,
for it inexorably will, when it chooses,
leaving you solely with the aftermath.

whirr

during the final walkthrough
of my one-bedroom, one bath,
with the lights on and doors open,
i pause to stare up at my fan.

i recall listening to its whirr,
entranced by its moving blades,
as she told me she loved me,
and later, when she said she cheated.

laying down, i used to trace the fractal
webbing of the stucco ceiling,
sometimes with a smile on my face
and others with it painted in tears.

pain, joy, sadness, delight,
a cacophony of emotions,
a soundless orchestra of feelings
drowned out only by the whirr.

a non-trivial number of hours
spent staring, wondering, hoping,
as i am poised to leave it all behind,
start a new chapter, find a new fan.

Sunday, November 01, 2015

driving home from college
at four in the morning
with tears streaming down my face
wasn't my proudest moment

fragile promises easily shattered
and smiles easily reversed,
the heartbreak i felt
wasn't the easiest lesson.

perhaps something steered
me toward that mountain road,
or maybe i wanted to be lost,
adrift, for just a little while.

but when a doe sprinted forth
and i slammed on my brakes,
it stared at me a pregnant moment
before continuing on, as life must.

Wednesday, October 07, 2015

missing

wake up, grab the soap,
shower, make coffee,
drive into work,
stay there, drive home.

realize the soap is dial,
remember she liked dove.
notice the coffee is black,
think of her love for creamer.

listen to NPR on the way in,
and how she'd blare her music.
pass that French restaurant,
she made me try that I loved.

get home and sit on the couch,
in one of two over-used cushions,
before retiring to my bedroom,
where I have one too many pillows.

my shadow

i first saw my shadow
when i was 10.
my mom went to the store,
and didn't come back.

it hung around from there,
in the corner of my room
most days, watching
as i sat on my bed, alone.

it disappeared during the day,
in the sunlight, as shadows
are wont to do,
but returned every night.

i battled and kept it at bay
as long as i possibly could,
even as it became a cloak
that wholly enveloped my soul.

i became the living host
of a terrible, terrible thing,
and knew the only way out
was to take away its source.

Thursday, July 09, 2015

random thoughts from an aspiring comedian

waterboarding at guantanamo
sounds like a lot of fun,
if you didn't happen to know
what either of them are.

when you think about it, 
your shadow is light
that traveled 93 million miles,
only to be blocked by you.

they should film
a sequel to the movie
groundhog day,
and re-release the original.

on april fool's day a porno site
should make a video where 
a plumber shows up to a house,
fixes the toilet, and leaves.

i wonder if my dog follows me
into the bathroom when i pee
because i go out when he does
and he thinks that's how it works.

every single day,
someone on earth
unknowingly lets out
the biggest poo for that day.

thanks for the Internet,
I've probably seen more
naked women, then all
my ancestors combined.

if Goldilocks slept in three beds,
then momma and poppa bear
slept separately, and baby bear
is the only thing keeping them together.

older vehicles used to have 
automatic collision avoidance
and could take you home if you were drunk,
then we got rid of the horse.

cowboys who ride off into the sunset
will quickly run out of daylight
and have to camp outside of town.
should've just stayed put for the night.

the idea of a ghost who moans
probably came from children
whose parents were having sex
and denied having heard the sounds.

i'd like to thank the brave men
and women, who died long ago,
tasting which plants were edible,
and which were not.

in 500 days i could meet someone,
get married, have a baby,
get divorced, and still
be using the same box of Q-tips.

if you think about it,
taking candy from a baby
would actually be a very
responsible thing to do.

(from reddit showerthoughts)

Thursday, May 28, 2015

domestics on 2-2-8-0

my dog, short, squat, gazed
with pleading eyes
as He munched on a
granola bar with chocolate.

"can you be careful?" i asked,
"crumbs from those get everywhere."
He wasn't having a good day,
and soon after, neither was i. 

it's grotesquely fascinating
how fast you can cede power
like a boxer cedes a match
after blow after blow. 

another: while sleeping
my toe scratched his leg,
or it must've,
as i awoke with a bruise.

i'd reached the end of the rope,
mine not being nearly long enough,
so when He asked if i was fucking his friend,
the lie slipped as i had a hundred times.

Friday, March 06, 2015

pong

the guy in the cubicle
in front of me
has a pong screensaver,
the one with the little ball.

back and forth,
whenever he's in a meeting
or out to lunch,
perpetual motion.

he died over the weekend,
now his screen is blank
as i ponder all the time
i've wasted watching pong.