" my view, a good poem is one in which the form of the verse and the joining of its parts seems light as a shallow river flowing over its sandy bed..."
Sonic quake feel it shake
You're gonna ache when I roll into town
Ten billion tons of fun
Atom smasher landscape basher
Burnin it up - blowin it up - fuckin shit up
I'm gonna scar your world
I'm gonna pound your world in my
Mech Tech Megablast
Shoved up your ass
Immense gorestrocity
Do you ugly
Thermonuclear tank
The size of a city
And it won't be pretty
Beating buildings to dust
Spray napalm, drop bombs - let 'em bust
From my

Mech Tech Megablast
Shoved up your ass

"…poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds..."

The dawn cometh quicker, my blood's feeling thicker
There's a stiffness and chilling - this old house, less willing
The enemy's time, and age is my crime
Reluctantly older -surpassing my prime
Feeling the pangs of arthritic intent
The prefacing aches of my mortal descent
It's wearing me down, this incessant wearing
A sluggish corrosion, and ungreased ball bearing
Yet new days are rising, they unravel before me
They shake me, awake me, they never ignore me
They break me from slumber, I'm rattled from dreaming
They drag me to Hell as I'm kicking and screaming
I'm bound to society to sustain my existence
I re-enter this realm with contempt and resistance
I find no salvation in man's population
Or gadgets spoon-feeding now's gratification
My gods aren't iPods or plastic inventions
I gift condescension to man's short attention
Self absorbed zombies stare into their hands
And lead pointless lives in the width of a band
A communion of Kool-Aid ®, they dwell in charade
Costumed like clowns in a moronic parade
Insatiable hunger for scatological delights
Drawn to shiny objects and the blinking of lights
The inane entertain all their vacuous brains
Celebrities are deities in this barren terrain
And the peasants - they too, think their feet fit the shoe
They lose human relevance to insolent arrogance
They suck the world dry like a mantis in lace
An ugliness ripples through all they embrace
The canines who dine upon the canine
Are heirs to a future that's no longer mine
I refuse to devolve in these mutated times
In the cannibal culture committing thought crimes
Perverting the sacred and that which I cherish
I'll fiddle from cedars and watch the world perish
As weariness settles and nests in my bone
Here lies a caption to grace my tombstone:
"It all wore me down - the infernal wearing
Put me in the ground, from a pain not worth bearing."
These life preparations are Death's invitations
Escorting my soul to a black destination
My final reprieve shall be flesh that I leave
The light at the end is my literal end
The morrow I pass through the darkening cloud
Wrapped in my shroud where none are allowed
Death to come ripping with indifference and sickle
I'll answer his calling - and feel but a tickle

"…poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings; it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility...


  I think and dream and drift away
But there’s intensity in the way I stray
The passing thought like precious stone

A melting snowflake with no clone
A whimsical whim, a leaf on the breeze

It falls from the limb like a fall to the knees
As nomads as vagrants as drifters they wander

Floating as nothing – yet something to ponder

  I drift away and think and dream
Riding my craft down consciousness’ stream

There’s pleasure and pain and indifference as well
From thinnest of air, if cast from a spell

They’re shallow and deep and dance in my sleep
Counting my blessings, I count them like sheep

They burst like balloons as I lie in tranquility
To capture them all – an exercise in futility

  I dream and drift away and think
Snapshots of thoughts appear in blinks

Moments so clear in reason and rhyme
Fleeting and bleeding away with the time

I try to collect them, to keep them as pets
A pen in my hand is my butterfly net

I treat them as treasures, like love’s face in a locket
They fill up my minutes, my soul, and my pockets

"…modesty is a virtue not often found among poets, for almost every one of them thinks himself the greatest in the world..."

Did I ask you a question?
A-B-C, easy as N-M-E
Easy for 2-3-1, easy as 1-2-3
That's Me, I, My pronouns
That's who pumps and pounds
And beats and hacks and drops and smacks
Verb after verb - what you just heard
Was a precise, flawless adjective
A poetic, brilliant description to give
An accurate, articulate alliteration
An analogy and acclamation
Word formation, pronunciation
I don't st-st-st-stammer on the goddam grammar
Slip up, stutter - cuz I rhyme like butter
With the simile and slang, as I coin a phrase
And then I paraphrase two separate ways
I got that flip-flop on the hip-hop
I got the shift in gab, gift of vocab
And in a spelling bee, I'd blow you away
I'll spell it, I'll spill it - a dab of consonance
Throwin couplets, in any tense
As I use it, and used it, using wit
Then offset everything with free verse
Tossin some chaos in your direction
Duck!  Low flying interjection
And How!  The adverb kicks in - Pow!
As I put  a preposition onto a preposition
In back of prepositions, in view of it's position
I'm kickin participle past
Having kicked the present first, not last
Parlait vu macaronics?
Si Senior - bilingual phonics
But you'll never, ever find one of those kind
Of grouping of words, some are inclined
To travel and unravel - unroll and unfold
 Idea and another with no distinction from the other
As I'm having my fun on this deliberate run-on
With the boom-bat format for the chat
It's the onomatopoeia to deliver idea
Using homonyms too - here's number two
Whoever wants a pause, let's see a show of paws
That's for the noun clause
Or conjunctions - so conjunctions
And functions are in conjunction
With the sight rhymes I bring through
Lookin better than it sounds, though
It's time to break my signal like a gate
Cuz I never fuckin punctuate
"...I don't look on poetry as closed works. I feel they're going on all the time in my head and I occasionally snip off a length..."

I'm jonesin and I need my fix
I gotta hear those pops and clicks
I'm just a junkie minus tracks
I put those needles on the wax
And I got stacks you've never heard
Revolving thirty three and a third
Spinning labels - bands that rip
And my turntables never skip
Technics belt drive on 45
A seven inch EP from '83
One you won't see out on CD
What you can't get, even on cassette
Pretentious asshole?  Maybe so
But I got more records than the radio
Test pressings, bootlegs - the shit's extensive
Rare, expensive, comprehensive
A library of Hardcore
Punk Rock from ceiling to the floor
It's something that I can believe in
Takin records for a spin
College campus record swap
I never fucking window shop
Show me vinyl, the money drops
Hate to burst your bubble, but I woulda paid double
Cuz I never trip on what it's costin
I'm blowin cash from here to Austin
Three hundred bucks on Guadalupe
Seven hundred more down in L.A.
Through Oregon up to W-A
I'm maxin plastic down in the Bay
Rasputin's, Reckless - I'm never checkless
Payin high prices for my vinyl vices
I gotta wax museum, and I love 'em all
Walk into stores - first check the wall
Then Rolodex each record bin
Full of hope and adrenaline
New and used, and some abused
Some trashed, some mint, some out of print
Numbered, signed - whatever I find
Limited edition - in any condition
So, I'm in this store, right?  And they ask me:
"Are you finding everything alright?"
Well, I gotta be honest - they just don't have everything
Then they ask:  "Well, is there anything I can help you find?"
And I say:  "Yeah, you can help me.  I need some:"
Slammies, Freeze, Authorities
Verbal Abuse, Dead Kennedys
S.V.D.B. or Tesco Vee
S.S.D. and Channel Three
Big Boys, Void, and M.D.C.
Cro-Mags, Black Flag and C2D
Crucifix and The Dicks and C.O.C.
Christ on Parade and Youth Brigade
R.K.L. and Roach Motel
Fearless Iranians from Hell
White Lie, D.R.I., Decry, Agression
Y.Y.Y. and False Confession
Beyond Possession, Reagan Youth
And Wasted Youth and Rebel Truth
Dr. Know, Sin 34
McRad, America's Hardcore
Sick Pleasure, or N.O.T.A.
The Faction, Fang, and J.F.A.
Hvy Drt, and B.G.K.
Negative Approach, or M.I.A.
Jerry's Kidz, or Gang Green
The F.U.s, Scream, Stalag 13
Sado Nation, Negative F.X.
And by the way, do you take checks?

"…poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does..."

Human scum, here I come
I'll take your screams, tear 'em out yer throat
Drain floods of blood - make body parts float
I'm gonna make it spill, I got the Skill
Punch through their chests, pull out their hearts
Leave fresh fucked dead in shopping carts
I got the trash compacter factor for man
You'll be findin bits of people in garbage cans
Once the dumpster death has started
Human flesh and bone bombarded
Dismembered wreckage - life discarded
Pieces of dearly departed
I got more meat chops than butcher shops
With a Dundee slash, I'm takin out the trash
I'll snatch their souls and fuck 'em up
And drink their blood from Dixie cups
I'll give you massive lacerations
The scarlet punch evacuation
Through process of evisceration
A blood drenched Ginsu demonstration
Rorshach designs as thick as Heinz
I'll break your skin, drop you in a trash bin
Garbage encased - mutilated waste
I'm gonna ship your stumps to landfills and dumps

"…all poetry is misrepresentation…"

I want to taste your empty brain
No condiments, I'll eat it plain
Although I've nothing I can gain
I'm sure some asshole will complain
But I'll take you for a ride, neighbor
Don’t fuck with me - I've gone in labor
My water broke, mind dilating
I'm giving birth, rhyme procreating
Slap this fucker - get it breathin
Cut the cord, the verse is teethin
Growin fangs, my vicious babies
Anthropomorphic thought with rabies
Slobberin fits - saliva foamin
Now it's crawlin -  infant roamin
It's thought nomadic, word sporadic
With a navigation on vacation
No destination, yet still on course
Flaunting this most fertile source
That's pulsing, throbbing - pumping thought
Would some synopsis hit the spot?
A storyline?  No, not forgot
The meaning of life - is the plot
Nurse the verse - a nursery rhyme
In pre-pubescent overtime
Love it, hate it - you can't debate it
You're in awe when I lactate it
You grab yourself when I relate it
Increase the pace and masturbate it
You can't touch this, so touch yourself
Put your prose back on the shelf
And wallow in my verbal vomit
Burp this baby - watch me mom it
Raise it, feed it - keep it going
Alphabits will keep it growing
It's got my eyes and the other vowels
With consonants spilling out its bowels
Drool, spit and the sucker just shit
Gotta wipe 'er - change a diaper
You smell it fuckin up the air
Ad-nauseam is everywhere
See, this is life and you can't take it
It sleeps inside but you can't wake it
You simply don't possess the ability
To usurp my fertility
Your womb is barren - you'll never rock the cradle
But I can spoon this shit out by the ladle
And when I'm done dishin out my dome
Sudden Infant Death Syndrome

"…a poet's name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world and stop it from going to sleep..."
Website Builder