When I am gone,Will you miss me?In these quiet moments -Full of reflection.Midnight poems,From a broken,Lonely cryptid.An ultimate question,Of the artist;Is there anyone out there,To witness the art?Or does it die here,With me?
My Work
The Pickup Truck Diaries: The Most Prolific Human Poet In History.
Seems grandiose, eh? This is one of the more modest, amongst the actual titles I was able to workshop, believe me! And I’d hope by now you’ve read at least one or two of these here Pickup Truck Diaries, so you are well aware already that I love being grandiose and mock-megalomaniacal for the sake...
Theatre.
Hesitant,Pausing for effect.Spotlight following their every move.Suspension of disbelief,Allows one to warp time.Stretching seconds into hours,Or weeks into moments.Been wrangling reality,Since I was a pup -Doomed to wander any other universe,But this one.Can you see the hollow void,Behind my...
Who Believes In The Better Nature Of Humans?
Was everything a lie?Was I another mark to take advantage of?Such a similar story,To last time.You'd think I'd have learned.A proper villain,Knows not to be trusting.Yet I still have a heart,My folly -Eh?A fool,Who believes in the better nature,Of humans.Stupid.
Closing Time.
Alas,Closing Time.You don't have to go home,But you can't stay here.Just shy of my hundred-poem goal,In just one day.Cafe is closing!GET OUT.Damn.I lost.But remember:Failure is a precursor to growth.Compounding in exponentials.
Sideways Eights Are Crazy.
Sideways Eights,Are Crazy.Children's card games -Portraying Algebraic Concepts.Force feeding skillsets,Simply by grinding for Dopamine.
Which Half?
Which half,Is good?& which,Is evil?As if the world could be reduced down,To black & white,As I used to think.The parts of myself -That want to rain destruction upon tyrants?Well,They'd have to destroy me,Too.No matter how deep I buried such selves.
A Rare Found Poem.
The Final Countdown.Another One Bites The Dust.More Than A Feeling.Numb.Hungry Like The Wolf.Weight Of The World.A Rebel Yell.True.
DEATH METAPHORS.
Sometimes we can see the light,At the end of the tunnel.Yet Death Metaphors,Are hardly deep.Instead of seeking out the light -Many of us must make it for ourselves,With flint.Darker souls as us:Hungry for warmth.
Haikus About Dead Selves.
I exist as many,Thousands of dead selves reaching,Clawing at surface.
Simple Poems.
Most folks,Want simple poems,About love,Or nature.I can seldom deliver on that -Forced to witness all of existence,Instead.
Nuclear Starlight.
Dancing across the stars,Breathing my oxygen from Nebulae.Cosmic radiation -Culling me sterile.But who cares about such basic biologies?Some reproductive urge to breed,A la survival of the fittest.Slave to desire.Being free from such wants,Only the stars call me home.Nuclear starlight.
Playing With Myself.
15 Poems,In 30 Minutes.Crunching my capability,Despite wanting to quit.My heroes never gave up,So I won't,Either.
To Satirize This One.
A Universe Here,Perhaps A Galaxy There.Dozens of Planets,Cooked up from scratch.This Universe is rather boring,Constrained as we are by the roadblocks on Science.Stuck on Earth,With an ignorant majority.Why else do you think I'd prefer to paint a new existence,Instead?To satirize this one.
Dear Queers,
Dear Queers,Blood is irrelevant.Most families are fucked,Anyway.Found family?More important -Than pleasing bigots.Disowned family myself;Disgusting animals who refused to accept me -Dead naming the whole way.Dear Queers,Fuck blood.Family should never come at the cost,Of being yourself.
Sociopathy & Spite.
Part of me knows,Some ugly souls -Stalk almost everything I write.Having shit upon my work,Or efforts,For decades.Lost a decade of working life -To such opinions.Evil as I am;I thoroughly enjoy the idea,That they cannot keep up with my production.Going manic in their sociopathy,& spite.
Diesel Doesn’t Lie.
Miss my iron,Some days.Old familiar feelings,Of existing beyond your body.Twenty-Five Tonne Physics,Few realize:Bigger you get -Slower you move.Mass.Density.Volume.Familiar measurements of the universe around us.Easier to count atoms,Than believe in holy fictions.Diesel Doesn't Lie.
Six Thousand.
Six Thousand.An interesting number.Eventually,A poem for every year -That some fools believe the world has existed for.As if spitting upon the fourteen billion years,Before that.Find my disgust at ignorance,Harder to tame,Or hide,These days.
Can’t Dispute Numbers.
Why else you think I chose to be prolific,Over hoping for popular appeal?The rampant subjectivity across art -Means a wholly broken system,Regarding talent or effort.Nah.Decided on quantity,Over quality.Not that there aren't some bangers!Folks can argue about quality.Can't dispute numbers.
Wanna Race?
21 Poems,In an hour.Crossing the boundaries -Between Language & Mathematics.Quantification of the Universe,In seconds or minutes.As much Science,As Art.As much Truth,As Fiction.But only the clever bastards can ever really tell.