okie smokie...

so i had to write a poem with three blanks in the space for words... so here a little poem, inspired by a short story i wrote entitled... crazy i know, follow follow. anyways, lots of ways you can take this poem, and thats why i like it...

Follow Follow

The deep dark stench of warm keg stout beer, along with
burning Backwood’s cigars from the Quickie on Paisley, fills
the lungs with every half breath. Singing and shouting with the mates
at The Grapes Bar: We will follow Rangers!

Anywhere, Everywhere, we will follow on mate.
Donald swears to me from his barstool on my left.
Dundee, Hamilton, the Pope and Vatican!
His breath reeks of celebratory sectarian alcoholism.

My runny yellow eggs began to mesh into the wet black beans,
Soggy mushrooms, and grayish black pudding. I use two rubber pieces
of bacon and one plastic link of sausage as make-shift utensils.
The bagpipes, like the consumption of liquor, have been ongoing
since the doors opened at 6am GMT.

swings his arm around for a resounding chorus rendition.
Celtic know all about their troubles.
We will ‘til the day is done.
The blind hatred in his dizzy drunk stare is deathly strange.
For there’s not a team like the Glasgow Rangers.
No not one, and there never shall be one.

more poetry...

sorry, but the thing is, I am in an Advanced Creative Writing Poetry Workshop... so this is where much of my writing is coming from...


Watering my Garden

It comes at four in the morning, too.
The rodent wheels
in my mind spinning.
Flashbacks of the best sex,
shared showers, and hours spent
wrapped up in each other.

Of course.

It grips at my stomach
Chan-nel-lock blue tight
and wrenches.

Sleep is impossible.
Flipping around in bed
like a landlocked fish,
uncomfortable,
In a cold sweat.
This struggling cant seem to throw
thoughts of past encounters
and conquest of the opposite sex.

Then the questioning begins,
Why am I still here? It’s not
what it used to be.
Excuses tug at my hair,
pointing my wandering eye
in another direction.

As my heart drops
at yet another lapse in faithfulness, I sit up
and decide to start my day early.

The garden will get watered at 5:20 today.

Art Museum Response

This is a response to a piece of art work, entitled Paradise, by Philip Curtis. In was in the dreams/imagination section of the ASU Art Museum...

One Father’s Nightmare
After Philip Curtis’ Paradise

A well to do man watches
over the meager audience he gathered
with the anxious anticipation
of a house dog waiting for his owner’s return.
His eyes, a black hole
of failure, matching

the lackluster day. Sad
orange colors drench his scene,
leafless trees form a stage
for a miniature circus.

As for the audience, his family,
they are occupied more
than they are entertained.
The wife and two children follow
the miniature horse with a dwarf
on top, the parrot, the cat and the gaunt
clown, but never acknowledging
The father.

The man worked hard to make
enough to produce this day’s spectacle.

His family turn their backs
on a father who has lost the point.

just another poem

Making excuses for you

He wasn’t where he was supposed to be at 11:14 pm

We said goodnight at 9:15
and I wondered
why he was so tired

It was Saturday night
and 27 missed calls
tells me he isn’t sleeping
next to his phone on the charger

My stomach tightens
and twists me into contorted shapes
in my bed sheets

I visit the toilet
head first every 20 minutes.

Cinematic love scenes
starring her and my boyfriend
reel in my mind

Some other girl
clutching him close
scratching his back
leaving all the signs for me to tell

I call him
for the 28th time
in two hours

ready and willing to accept the lies
I’ve already made for him