Friday Ritual

As my bones, teeth, and hair are progressively thinning, I decided not too long ago that every second Friday night, I’d shirk the party track in favor a more “cultured” ritual. It’s a simple one. After I get up from my nap I have a light dinner. While eating, I download films I think might inspire me.  When my belly’s full and the films are selected, I head across the street to my crappy but faithful Billa (supermarket). There I buy myself a handcart of Pilsners, snacks, and whatnot. When I return home, I load my hookah with sweet tobacco. Then I light it up, crack a beer, switch on a film and let my fingers do the rest. Before I know it, I have a dozen poems. Many are short and even more are turds, but occasionally there’s a gem. Last Monday, I compiled several of these “gems” and read them at Alchemy (open-mic). So without further ado …



No Title

The more I
Suck these beers down
The more
Poems pop out of my fingertips
Like popcorn
Hope you enjoy
The show
Assholes

….

Naked Colors

There is a clarity
In sleeplessness
That borders
Insanity
It strips away
Distracting elements
And bares reality’s
Naked colors
If you look hard enough
You can see the
Faces of the damned
In these colors
They speak to you
With open
Mouths

….

Two-Headed Snake

Violence comes from
A destructive
Impulse
But where does
That impulse
Come from?
Well
It comes from
A need to love
And if we can’t
Love
We hurt
‘Cuz not being loved
Hurts
So what does that say
About the nature of
Love?
That if it’s not
Reciprocated
The unfulfilled party
Feels pain?
It says that love
Is a thing of both
Violence
And joy –
A strange
Dichotomous creature
That creates life
And destroys it

….

Warm Butter

I walked through
The park where
The tree branches
Twist up to the sky
Like veins
And I felt the
Bitterness of
An old crow
Spread its wings
Across my heart
And make me think
Of peaceful things
Like
Me swaying gently
At the end of a
Noose,
My toes
Scratching
Against the dirt
Then suddenly
The sunlight melted
Through the clouds
And poured over my shoulders
Like warm butter
And I thought
“Christ!
Now my coat’s ruined.”

….

Finger in the Soot

Death is shapeless –
A flow of liquid
That takes all forms
For one
It may be a gangster
Flashing a gun
For another
A bright red apple

….

A Žižkov Night

I stepped out
The door
And into the cold
The trees were
Dusted with snow
And the buildings
Stretched up around me
Like crooks
Police sirens howled
Like aliens in the night
I breathed it all in
And smiled