Poems for January ’23

Lies of the Old Television Set

do not shoot for the stars

throw bottles at them

keep them out of your yard

the stars want you to 

play their game

their way

and have none of your

interests in mind

people are whispering

we are made of star dust

they are us

the only thing

we have in common

with the stars

is how bright we shine

when we quit shooting for them

Chief Balls to the Wall Officer

the slim computer

telling your fortune

like a spike into your skill

plots your demise

vibrating electricity

into your platform heels

here comes the car

full speed

not heading for you

you’re driving

the pedal

won’t go down further

it’s melted to the floor

Ballin’ on Suicide

descends gently

a lotus flower

into my throat

as I look into the mirror

my reflection screaming

why would you not kill him?

why not take his life?

they all deserve to die

En guard

anger does not rust

it rebuilds us

forging us from impure dreams

the ash on our backs

blown off burning roofs

chile powder on my cappuccino

keen senses slip off the tabletop

into the abyss

in the abyss we press

our thumbs into the enemy’s eyes

dig deep into their holes

to pull out a dozen roses

for our loved one