Tag Archives: poem

Bringing home our inner pseudo commandos

Yes, I have lived many places, known many people. All I can do is write, if I’m lucky, as I struggle to understand human behaviour. While still in mourning for the loss of one of the most loving and magnanimous individuals in my life, somewhat ironically, I am astonished at the capacity of others for spite, as if anger holds redemption. Well, if nothing else, I suppose it provides fuel, though far as I can tell, anger only propels one further and deeper down into a well of despair, paranoia and depression. I’ve resided in isolation. I know how it works, feel fortunate to have surfaced, partly due to the efforts of friends and family who never gave up on me.

PSEUDO COMMANDO

Cave apartment.
Lonesome injustice collector,
Lame prospero
Maintains object relations
With others based on envy.
Revenge-romance writer.

Between mean street patrols
And bitch prowling, corrals
The unwanted, hated, feared bits
Of himself, to reassemble,
Form of an enemy
Deserving of merciless rage.

Welcome to the neighbourhood.

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WINTER MOURNING

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WINTER MOURNING

March mad in February
Ma’s temper heats the window.
A flutter of juncos alight
Plying the bare limbed willow
Like a lyre
Fawn, dove, hare
Sheltered in cedar shade
Frightened still.

Bonded in blarney
She’d weaned me
On clever jive
My conception a farce
Life a fiction.
Let the need to know go
She repeated as if Buddha-wise.

Her demise should illuminate
Every secret, every corner
Every cowering tot
Lit by the pop and flash,
Truth, its triumph at last, though
Revelation offers no resolution.
We are all stories in the end.

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CLOWN DUTY

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Not my circus, not my monkeys.-Polish proverb


CLOWN DUTY

Born wrong, he got me right
Celebrates my fanny
Charms, trailer windows, black mind
For comedy. Gutterized beau
Replete with affection disorder
Grog blossoms, cauliflower ear
For doggerel. Broken noise.

Bloviating Master of Ceremonies.
Glitterized stallions. Elastic pratfalls.
Nothing distracts from my To-Do List:
Test trapeze. Reform winter law.
Conduct gravity. Reorient.
Polish tinware. Flush away

Chimp guano. Marvel
At the mess we’ve made, beatify
Our radical slaphappy love
Bless big top bounty
The largesse of my longing.
Remember what matters.

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DETECTIVE WORK . . . sloppy or otherwise

Pedro Reyes

DETECTIVE WORK

Only God knows.
Fuck God. Horny
Marauder. I disarmed
God eons ago but

I have been blessed
With X-ray vision.
All the better to ogle
Your boobs
Though it’s motive I see

Glaring through hotbeds
Of rose mallow
Blaring past foghorns
Of hickory smoke.

Theories sound
As any scientist’s
I uncover proof
You can’t bear
To look at.

Bright, beckoning.
Ultramarine.
Nature vs nurture?
Meh. Murderous intent

Seeped into human cells
Eons ago.
Kill To Live.
It’s not just a prison tatt.

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EVERY HAND JOB

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EVERY HAND JOB

Every hand job
Ever given
Every hand job
Ever received
Belongs to me.

Each furtive grope
Stolen kiss, mine.
You fuck
I come.

The time you delivered pizza
To a lonely silk robe clad blonde
The one who took your virginity
I was there.
That was me.

I’ve been inside
Every bachelor apartment
In the world
Since bachelors began.

Your escapades, my escapades.
Your sex, my sex.
I lick, suck, bang
For you
Whenever you can’t make it

For no reason
For every reason.

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INSOMNIAC . . . Courting the muse, I mean, moth

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Photo: Darryl Dennis Deegan
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INSOMNIA

1She sips her black tar fizz

She sips her black tar fizz

Remembering

Batik, macramé, totems,

A beaver upon a plinth.

 

As sturdy and useful

As a shorthorn bull

She prefers to reside

In her head and wonder,

Who will thwart the meteorites,

 

Who will save the future?

Rain pelts the window,

Mothra softly dying

To reach lamplight,

To deliver sleep.

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