Hotel flooded
with
80′s rockers
like
sun dried corpses
wearing silver jewelry

a zombie flick

their groupies
dark and wasted
beauties
with tattoo
covered bodies,
existential pain
painted
to their sad
beautiful
frame.
Night of
the living
dead
or
a
VH-1
reality show,
i can’t
fucking tell.

Napkin #1

Can’t help
who i love
can’t help
how i feel
can’t help
that you
don’t want
to come home.
Can’t help
that

i would
die for you
i’d end
the world
for you
you’ll
never
be
loved
by anyone
the way
i love,
only Neruda
could’ve.

if
you were
my love
the world
would become
a beautiful place
and we’d dance together
in a
cosmic musical,
but i’m the
lonely
piano
player
watching you dance
with everyone else.

oh
i found
my broken heart
was
not
for
me,
it never
was,
’twas
always
for
the
world.

Napkin #2

High on heroin
the hair metal
guy asks me all fucked up sounding,
“Are you Joe Buguradi?”
“What’s that?”
“Are you Joe Bugaradi?” He asks again
more belligerent.
I laugh,
and his
sexy scantily clad
hair metal groupie chick says,
“Don’t worry about him.”
Then
grabs him just before
he runs into
a wall.

Mind
swimming
in alcohol
don’t you
see??

Soon
i gotta pee…
and soon
i gotta
leave
this
fuck.

My
God
Have
I
Lost
You?

It’s my
life to
love you.
I’ll leave
you alone.
you don’t
want me
to love you
so i won’t,
because
you’ll never
love me
if i do.

done with what
was once thought to be
i think letting go
relinquishing
angst
of
what never was
and so
i’ll just find what i’m looking
for
in me
and in this
flesh
my existence
will be
what i thought i never could’ve
been
for
someone
not me
i’m living
so differently
than i thought i would be
when i was 12
hitting baseballs
all day
dreaming of
a simpler life,
a child’s vision
of how to spend
the rest of my life.

Now i’m
living
each day
the way i was meant to,
and my God,
i woke up this morning
and my first thought
was
‘I feel mortal.
i’m going to die
someday.
But thats ok’
as i scratched my self
and grabbed my morning wood,
then looked over at my dog
doing the same,
and laughed
at the idea
that so much
was put inside
me
that it feels
like a race
against the clock
to get it all
out.

Got done with work
at the St. Regis Hotel
in Dana Point
and drove home down PCH.

The day after a rainstorm
never disappoints
if you
appreciate
natural beauty–
silver clouds
moving east
leave
perfectly
azure sky
behind
for a day
before
our shit fills
the air again
and turns
everything
grey.

Thought about
pulling over
in Laguna Beach
thought about it
’cause i felt
the ocean and sky
calling for poetry
but Laguna Beach
isn’t for me,
however beautiful it looks,
i get bad vibes there.

Laguna Beach
is like a worthless bitch
from Laguna Beach
unworthy of
poetry,
and just like seeing
some hot bitch on the sidewalk
walking with giant sunglasses on
i still
made glances at
the ocean’s
golden shimmer
and i continued considering
pulling over until
PCH deviated a little
into the mainland
and i kept on rolling.

Going downhill
there was an emergency speedlimit sign
saying 35
and we were all approaching at 60,
so i let off the gas
and watched
as maniac old ladies
in brand new mercedes
flew past me
coming within a foot of hitting
men working on the side of the road.

i could see their old
scrunched up bitter faces
as they lead footed by and
i imagined what was going through their mind
“Mexicans, hmmph. Trash picking up trash.”
as they recklessly
flew past the men in bright orange vests
picking up trash
as part of a community service deal or something
whilst i applied the brakes.

these are the people
that have to live in the most beautiful looking places in the world,
and drive the
newest luxury automobiles
and lose themselves in manufactured (beauty);
a collective
of rich
trying to fill
their collective emptiness
with Laguna Beach.
That place hasnt had a soul since the 1980′s,
it’s been sucked dry.

I’d rather find
an old creek
in the woods
and sit
and write poems
to the rhythm
of its
babbling
than
chance
hearing
an inane
conversation
among millionaires
taking
the
effortlessness
and excess
of their lives
for granted
while the world
suffers.

old leadfoots
and a hot ass blonde chick on her cell phone behind me
driving a giant white mercedes suv
almost fucking rear ends me twice
at red lights;
all that within the five minutes it took for me
to flee
the city.

it
doesn’t deserve
to be
expounded
and
pontificated
no matter
how beautiful
the sky and ocean
looks from there.

The place has no soul,
i dont want it,
you can have its
skindeep aesthetic
i don’t care what the hell it looks like.

I’d do anything for you.
I’d give my life for you.

I love you so much
i can
let go of you
completely
if that
be
the only thing left i can offer
to make you happy.

You look happy
he looks blasé
and thats the way girls like it
so i’ll be that way.

i don’t care
if you stay.

the cruelest joke
my life could
play
to lead me to love
someone
so far away
that every word that she could say
could make my every day
she goes to sleep at night
in the arms of another
she don’t think of me at night
like i think of her
as i sleep alone
and shutter
to think
she touches another
oh god how
i feel so helpless
so far away
she felt so close
the other day
now i don’t know
if what she says
she means
or if she’s
just going to concede
and then
i’ll never
see her
again.

i felt my self go
and let go of myself
my self
my
self

my fucking ego.
i love you so selflessly,
all i can give you is what i got,
and my dreams,
i got those,
i got them so close to me,
my dreams come to reality,
and you are a dream of mine,
so close to me

a dream…

i
cry
for
a
love
i’d
die
for.

I lost my sweet little bird again
she’s been
put in someone’s cage again

i love her so much
i could never
pretend
she could ever be mine

so beautiful
when she’s away from me,
and when she finds someone’s love
the songs she sings
oh
they are too beautiful
to ever be for me
so i’ll never
buy a cage for her

i dream of her
flying home
again
and then
just to be
free
with her
to see her
living beautifully
is all i’ll ever need–

oh God,
i want her loving
more than anything.

i have this hot blood
darkened soul
and this art
that will leave me
in poverty
while i write madly
about
love
and truth
and the
world
losing control
is losing

so
now
that the holidays are over
i can resume my selfish nature
and
devote
all my time
to losing myself
in my
passion.

i feel
like a conduit
of raw emotion
broken down
like light through
a prism
burnt
to the page.

the beauty of being numb
is
the safety,
you don’t take the risk
you don’t feel the pain
you don’t put your heart on the line
you don’t put your entire life on the line
for a dream.

i dream.
i wake up and i live my dream.

rb
turns his head
and looks at me
when i
sing along
with
songs on
my headphones.

I set the volume low
and put the headphones
on his ears
and he cocks his head
and perks his ears
and looks at me
with his
sad eyes
full of soul
and listens to music
i knew he’d appreciate:
The Beach Boys
and
Weezer..

He’s captivated
for a minute and a half
then pushes the
headphones off his head.