In case you’ve been out of the loop, I am currently writing 100 poems in 30 days for the month of April, also known as National Poetry Writing Month, or #NaPoWriMo.  Please read, enjoy, share your thoughts, and share my work! Would greatly appreciate it.


10/100
Good For Them

Good for all the fools
Who pomp and profess of knowing themselves completely

Good for all the fucks
Who work tirelessly to kick up dust and run amuck indiscreetly

Good for all the fakes
Who run their mouths and act all cool like the actors on reality TV

Good for them all
I hope they’re happy
Living in their little world
Who knew ignorance
Could look so hot
To the uncritical eye

She’s more a state of mind
Than a place to raise a consciousness

Los Angeles, you whore
The things you’re willing to do
For your fifteen minutes of fame

It’s a shame
Fools, fucks, and fakes

Good for you all, though
I hope you get what you came for
In vain


11/100

Not thoughts
Voices amongst the dark

My white room muffles words
Speaking deeply of subversion dreams
The likes of which the world has never known
But how could it? How could they?

We are but two very different DNA sequences
Created from the same fabric of space-time

Neo-natal
Neo-cortex
Neo-post-modern
Auntie Em, Auntie Em

My train of voices (not thoughts)
Has no yellow brick end
You will not find Emerald City
Behind my third eye

You will only hear the voice of the Wizard
Sense the presence of the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion

You will be brought back to reality, not by smelling salts
But by the caress of your insides by a voice
Without a face


12/100
Happy 18th

You don’t turn 18 all the time, young man
Carpe noctem

When you wake up again tomorrow
You will never be the same young child you were
Only yesterday

Carpe diem
Welcome to adulthood
There’s a grace period for a few years
Just don’t get too comfortable
This world’ll eat you alive
With expectations
And experience

It’s never too late to get your shit together
At this point

No looking back
Police record’s permanent
Cigarettes and lottery tickets within reach

You’re never going to be a child again
Get used to it

Bill’s already in the mail

typewriter-hemingway