Archive | July, 2015

Birthday 44: Electric Booga-lore

22 Jul



Birthday 44: Electric Booga-lore


This morning I woke up on the couch hung over

and thought Huh, so this is 44


and after that I thought

I wonder if my dick still works?


so I jerked off


and then, because I’m always on a giant monsters kick again

I read ½ a Kaiju story

but I didn’t like it

the story was told from the Kaiju’s perspective

and he was given a vain overly sexualized male persona

that bragged a bunch about how virile it was

and reveled in the aboriginal nobility

of how much it liked to fuck: stuff


and I was offended, actually


because in the Kaiju monster genre

the Kaiju is more than a monster

it’s THE monster

the Kaiju is supposed to represent

a metaphor

for the societal fears of a particular time

in the finite history

of this everything ends

nut sack dragging

Hollywood needs me

ball-gagged earth


it’s not supposed to be some dumb

mash up of Donald Trump’s ego

sewn to the outer asshole

of a super high Charlie Sheen


(historical note: the younger version of myself was pretty sure

that by the time it hit 44 it would no longer be referencing

Charlie Sheen in his writings)


(historical note pt 2: even though he’s great in The Arrival, and Young Guns 1,

as in “I could’ve killed ya, Dick.” Billy the Kid said that.

Not Charlie Sheen. Emilio Estevez played Billy the Kid

Charlie Sheen played Dick)


but back to Kaiju

The story displeased me


I was like

this is bullshit

and put the book down


and thought more about metaphors

and then for the second time



I wondered if my dick still worked

and jerked off again


then I went into the basement to do laundry

because everything’s dirty right now

and it’s not like I haven’t been doing anything

I’ve been going to work

and hanging out with my amazing and grown up daughters

and watching one hundred movies

and writing a lot about everything

but writing doesn’t keep your clothes clean


it does the opposite, actually


everything I’d recently worn

smelled repulsive

and I knew I had to leave the house tonight

and outside is repulsive enough

it doesn’t need my dirty shirt out there

adding to the mix


so I went down to do laundry!


but couldn’t deal with the pile

so I washed 1 shirt and 2 socks


and thought: “That’ll do pig.”—James Cromwell

That’ll do


and then I

looked at what I’d planned

on reading tonight but it was too long


everything I’ve been writing is long


which got me thinking about my dick working

correctly again


and I thought about jerking off

but I put in Synecdoche, New York



Quote: “Harold Pinter’s dead. No wait,

he won the Nobel Prize” End Quote


and I get so goddamned devastated

like I always get goddamned devastated

when I watch this movie


so when it’s over I get drunk

at 1:11 p.m.

before the 7:30 reading

I’m drinking

Princess Lea save me!

I get drunk


so realizing that I will eventually

have to be somewhere

I put in Planet of the Apes

in a cinematic attempt to sober up


but everything’s too late

I’m already having flashbacks

of Walmart

and hitting on a girl once at a camp site

when I was 12

my pickup line being


I swallowed a bug, once


and I think about maybe if I just took a shower

but then I put on some Right Guard


because I’m 44 now

and showering is for the young


I watched Planet of the Apes

drank cheap beer (it must be my birthday

I almost never drink beer)`


until Jonny and Shayna showed up


and then we headed to Denver


we were in the car

and then we were outside

and then we were here

in this place


and this happened




(written for last night’s FBomb at The Mercury Café, Denver CO)


Neon Carrot

19 Jul



Neon Carrot


in the vegetable garden

of this evening’s cracked sanity

there’s something wrong with these

goddamned carrots!


the local rabbits who subsist on such things

have grown talk shows on their knee caps

and their piss has turned the color

of Jay Leno’s chin


a humorless shade of pink marshmallows

and overpriced car wax


the Experts suggest Pesticides


and the Pesticides suggest Experts


which leads me to believe it’s all just

one big con job and the fucking thin skins

are in on this thing together


so instead of fumigating between hillsides

which at this point

would be futile

I grab another notebook

and start over


The air smells like robot shadows

and laundry mat solar flares


as I write something down about the air

smelling like robot shadows and laundry mats


and try my best to avoid eye contact

with these goddamn radioactive carrots


that have taken over

too much

almost everything

that’s been left


in our ground

Politically Correct Film Criticism

19 Jul


Politically Correct Film Criticism


Excuse my language

I know yr not supposed to call women

‘Tina Turner’ anymore


but in Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome


Tina Turner

is such

a bitch


Me Too Night at Love Shovel Ranch Poem

17 Jul


Me Too Night at Love Shovel Ranch Poem

for Jonathan Montgomery, inventor of Me Too Poetics, Marcus If, inventor of Love Shovel Ranch, and Jewel


Reality makes no sense to me!

Nothingness is just another shit bar

Death is a bad pick up line


I’m sorry about damn near everything!


I walk out the door most days

as if the morning was a goddamn arctic sled race

and somebody’s just murdered all my dogs


I’m always alone!


I find it almost impossible to talk to women I want to sleep with

and I find it almost more impossible to talk to the women I don’t


I haven’t slept in years!


and when I do sleep

I wake up every 45 minutes

because everything I’ve ever lost

haunts me and post all this leaving

I’m so goddamned broken

I find it impossible

to accept other people’s love


I watch people in love

like I’m watching a big budget

dinosaur movie that’s lost

its 3rd act

there’s no happy ending in which

some of the characters

make it through

to the end


everything’s pre and post shoe drop

the dangerous set up

followed by an endless

digital film parade

of chaos and extinct

monsters devouring everything individually

and prehistorical butt plugs

and rage-y type doom


I feel like my atoms

are held together with

dollar store duct tape

every time I’m required

to socialize


I’m so fucking lost!


the other day

I watched a bus leave a bird

behind at a bus stop because the bird

didn’t have correct change

or maybe it had change

but couldn’t carry it to the bus stop


in which case the bus left the bird

because it didn’t have pockets


and that’s a horrible reason

to leave something


but still a better reason

than most of us are given


we are

the pocket lonely

and left


I’ve never fucked

a ferris wheel

and this morning

I have to admit:

I regret this


Back in high school I once fooled around

with an older girl who went to Ferris College

but that’s not really the same thing


unless fucking a ferris wheel

is like making out with a girl who’d

just won first place in the college lip syncing contest

for looking exactly like the lead singer from Vixen


I’m so fucking pathetic!


When Tundji left town

he gave me all his porn

a small box of dvds


but when I watched it

it felt weird

jerking off to porn that Tundji’d

already jerked off to


it felt weird

like Marty McFly traveling all the way back in time

just to make out with his mom in Back To The Future


but in the end

I jerked off anyway

it was weird, but I jerked off

because what else

are we supposed to



Last night I had a dream

I went to a football game

in the 1990’s

and ended up hanging out

with Mick Jagger


and we got drunk

and he promised to publish

my new novel


but then he sort of got distracted

by this enormous indoor tire swing

and I stood there thinking


gosh, his purple shirt is so shiny

and he seems to be enjoying that tire swing

so much

he’s probably already forgotten every promise

he’s ever said to me


I can’t compete with a tire swing


So much for my book


The other night I was watching the movie

Interstellar for the 39th time

and I couldn’t stop thinking

It’s so unfair

nobody ever pays attention

to the kid in the movie

who grows up to be Casey Affleck


and I thought, Helen


her love was like that,

she loved me as if I were a child

pretending to be a younger version

of Casey Affleck


and I felt so sad! So sat that

I was sitting around on my couch the other day

and for ten solid minutes I couldn’t get it out

of my head, Nobody says butt fuck anymore


or if they do, I ain’t hearing it

when we were kids

we said butt fuck all the time

not because we knew what it meant, but

because it was fun to say


Butt fuck! Helen! Butt fuck!


I’m so fucking divorced right now!


I still remember when Helen had left

to think things over for a couple months

and she eventually called me from the east coast

and told me she wanted a divorce


I totally Han Solo’d her

unplanned and spontaneous

voice calm as hell


Helen: I want a divorce.

Me: I know.


It seemed like the only 2 words

in the world at the time

The only proper response


I’m so fucking anti-social!


I’ve gone four day in a row

where the only person I talked to

the entire time was the bartender

at Chilis


I’m so fucking hungry!


If you’d have told my 17yr old hopeless romantic

and clean faced self

that he’d turn into a middle aged

bearded hermit afraid of love


he would’ve told you

to go fuck yourself


but when you tell Jewel the same news

she’s way more polite about it



taking the dick out of Emily Dickenson

for shit, almost 40 years


love is a log cabin

and when they leave

they take all the logs


I was sitting at the Outback

the other day writing

and a pretty lady came over

and started to talk to me

and her boobs were perfect

the way the movie Mad Max Fury Road was perfect

the only difference being Fury Road

was one movie

and in the case of her boobs

there were two


and I could tell that she was into me maybe

but I’m so fucking bad at picking up women

right now that the only thing I could think

to say to her was:

Talking to you right now is really depressing me.


so I said it

and of course

she left


I’m so fucking confused!


I was in Walmart this morning

and they were selling Amish Potato Salad

and I was like, what the fuck is Amish Potato Salad?


and then I thought who cares and started making up

advertising catch phrases in my head

for Amish Potato salad because when you’re alone

most of the time you have to find various ways

to pass the time and entertain yourself


instead of having a girlfriend

I invent slogans for Amish Potato salad

like Amish Potato Salad:

this potato salad

is not a fan of electricity

or the way Harrison Ford is looking

at that young boy’s mom





I was at the Lafayette Chilis again around 5:10 p.m. on a Wednesday

sitting at the bar and this woman walked in


and she was pretty and she sat next to me

exactly in that order


I was waiting for a black bean burger

to go and someone to love me


She was picking up food to go too


She paid with her credit card

just like I’d paid with my credit card

we had so much in common!


until our to go orders

showed up at the same time

her bag was enormous

and obviously filled with

food for herself and

somebody else

probably her boyfriend


and my tiny plastic

bag the size of one

solo veggie burger

obviously enunciated

that I was alone


Her bag screamed:


I’m in a committed relationship

We eat Chilis to go together once a week

and have sex in between the 3rd and 4th commercial break

of America’s Got Talent every Wednesday night


My bag screamed:


I have loved deeper than space time and continuums

but now I’m obviously

broken and alone




(for more about Jonathan Montgomery and Me Too poetics visit
for more about Love Shovel Ranch visit Love Shovel Ranch. or go to their website
for more about Jewel visit Idon’tReallyKnowJewel)

The Day The Sky Exploded

11 Jul


The Day The Sky Exploded

What kind of space hero

sets out to save the world

wearing only a stern scowl,

a plaid sports jacket,

and no tie?

Especially with all these post-impact

arch-enemy of love asteroids

crotch-punching the sky

In a world in which Ground Control

can be bribed for a thong-toting trust fund

and a half box of Ritz Crackers

and Space Stations are forced to consume

entire medicine cabinets full

of your mother’s vicodin

in a vain attempt to remain airborne

despite their overly-nurtured fear of heights

a love like ours


it just didn’t stand

much of a chance

But then, what does these days?

When Flash Gordon is no longer considered

part of the food chain pyramid

and Buck Rogers has been pulped into

a goddamn vegetable

Extinction is currently getting an overly-priced hand job

in a rusty Men’s Room

that smells disturbingly like Taco Bell

Earth Location:  Terminal B

near gate 37

Denver International Airport

aka DIA

(you no longer love me?)

its arrival a mere three or four dozen strokes

away from being considered predictably emanate

sensing the true fate of such things

our Love’s animals start behaving irrationally

flying into shit they wouldn’t

ordinarily fly into

jumping off tall cliffs

in huge numbers

when ordinarily they might be

more inclined to sit glaring

behind their foreclosed zoo bars

plotting half-assed escape routes

and daydreaming about

eating tourists

sticking their dicks inside

promiscuous Recycle Bin’s

doves strapped up in dynamite

terror bombing

any establishment that sells greeting cards

or his and hers tattoos

(I already miss you)

and the sort of pricks

who throw parties

and rent clowns

(old poem that almost made it into the Aftermath book but didn’t)

Infinity, Jewel (part 3)

4 Jul


Infinity, Jewel (part 3)

(for the 4th of July)


sitting at his computer

on the 4th of July

staring through Facebook

at a picture


of the pop star posing

at the bow of the boat

while wearing a bikini


he pretended that he

wasn’t just staring at a picture

he pretended that he was Skyping

with Jewel


she swore that she missed him

and that she’d be home soon


and he told her that he was no Christian Grey

“Enjoy yourself. I’m fine.

It’s not like I’m secretly

plotting to chart a plane


to come find you because

I’m narcissistically needy

and don’t trust you.


Take your time. I’ve got plenty of things

to do around here. I’ll see you when

you get back.


I love you.”


and despite the fact that she looked

almost sunburned, Jewel confessed

that she loved him too


after closing down their Skype connection

or however that works

the man turned from his laptop


and walked over to say hello to the blu ray player

that also played dvd’s


he put in the 30th anniversary edition

of Jaws on its 40th birthday


because he felt like being around people

without all the going-out-hassles

of being around people


watching Jaws was the closest thing

he’d come to hanging out at the beach

in years


and there’s nothing wrong with that!


Jewel isn’t ignoring his phone calls

because he’s never called her, and besides that

she’s real busy


I mean, happy birthday


you’re still fuckable


he thought to himself

before grabbing the most recent copy

of US magazine while wondering


about the environment

and walking upstairs

to take a bath


4 Jul


(for the 4th of July)


her vagina

was an english lit major


and his dick

was bad grammar


their sex was the sort of novel

that makes bookmarks



‘once upon a time’

jizzing all over ‘the end’

in the time it takes


to clumsily microwave

a frozen burrito


he was an asshole in the kitchen

and a frictionless prick in the sack


but it was the fourth of july


and she loved him the exact opposite

of how he fucked

she loved him: deeply


and from these depths

she watched as he took

a clubbed eternity picking out

which pair of shorts he was going to wear

for the fireworks later


and bitched about

her friends, again



is getting older


she ate her burrito in waves