Poetry || Submissions

	 Queen

      her
      broken body is
     beautiful
      she hides her pain
       well
      her thick black
     hair halos her head
        tanned brown breasts
      bent out
      at an angle
      valley between
      straining outward
      tired face
      an
       beat up soul
      she shakes when
      she lights up
     i
      want to hold her to me
      take away her
        pain
        fear
      make her believe
           someone
      gives a shit
      i 
        want to stroke the
        nape of her soft
        downy neck
      cover her eyes with
       my hands
        feel her cheeks
         quiver beneath
      i
      want to know her
      but
       like one wounded
       she won't let
       them close
      she's afraid
      to live life
         at times
        she feels a feeling
        similar to one
        she had
      as a child
      but
      she pushes the
      plunger and it
      disappears.
 


    
 this is what we are

    i could show you

      the 12 year old
      lying in a pool of blood,
      gunned down outside of
      his school for wearing
      the wrong colored clothing
     	  the 60 year old woman
      found dead at her
      home, a Greyhound
      bus stop, blanket
      frozen to hardened flesh
      the cop gunned down in
      Manhattan Beach as his
      nephew watched,
      the cops in Compton
      killed execution style,
      the Riverside cop killed
      making a routine traffic
      stop

    i used to hate cops
    now i just feel sorry
    for their chances
    do
    you want some more
    i could show you
    some of my own

      the anorexic dying the
      slow death of sister
      famine
      the od-ing girl in my
      sad arms, crying for
      love & attention, deep
      penetration, death &
      denial, letting her go,
      straight to hell
      the cold metallic feeling
      of frozen steel, 38
      special parked in mouth
      one foot from death

    i
    been there

      the nameless fucks, bluesy
      binges, hiding out on
      floors of musty apts
      the evictions, firings, ass
      kickings, assaults, the
      men begging to stick it
      in, the women asking to
      get stuck, the pock
      marked skin trade
      the flickering LAPD helios
      fluttering overhead
      highlighting broken body
      on 10th & Cherry Friday
      night, blood congealing
      around feet of lone gun
      man up against the wall
      the kid w/ the gun in his
      pants walking down Orange
      the dead man down the hall,
      apt smelling, room taped
      off by yellow oaken ribbon
      the homeless AIDS victim
      crawling on the ground by
      the corner store, picking
      lesions off and begging
      for help
      the piles of human shit littering
      the ground around the dumpster
      the needles on the ground,  
      wasted bullets, crying
      children, bloodstained
      churches, orphaned humans,
      old ladies lying still
      in the streets, meeting
      their eternal maker

    i could show you more
    i could 
        go on and on
    I could


		

    just for kicks

 they
      found the
        bloody
       body
      of a school
      crossing guard
      this morning
           buried
      in the trunk
      of her 81 Pontiac.
         her
      killers had left
         the car
      in the parking lot at
      Long Beach Poly
      while
         they attended morning
         high school
      classes.
      afterward
      they took off
      in their
      brand
        new
        really
           expensive
      luxorymobile
      which they worked so hard for
      and
      CRASHED
      it into a parked car,
      got out (according to
      witnesses) and
        staggered
      to the bus stop.

      some people call me
      Heartless
      when i suggest
         Euthanizing
      everyone
      between 5 and 25
      but i'm not
          convinced
      that i'm the
      heartless one.



	
    The World Ran Dry

        today
        suffering from drawn out
         hangover
        the world ran dry
        this week
        Bukowski died
        and one third of the
        world's winemakers
        will go broke
        i
        live in a tin can alley
        world of rust and litter
        l.a.
        not paris
        is burning
        i was offered a teaching
        job this week
        at a major new york
        university
        contingent
        upon my admission
        into their phd program
        only to receive a rejection
        letter that very afternoon
        from that very program
        i
        saw a dead dog
        lying battered and broken
        on the side of the road
        dalmatian carcass drying
        under withering california
        sun
        nights are better
        here
         i sit in bed
        and listen to the
        sirens and the
        screaming but at
        least it's cool
        and i can read
        whatever & whomever
        i choose
        the world is dry
         right now
        i am sweating seagull
        sized drops
         panting hard
        my leather jacket's
        still drying out
        trying to recover
        from last night's party
        i
        downed 2 pints of jack
        shot some tequila
        and imbibed otherwise
       a
        scared white cat
        with carolina blue
        eyes scampered thru
        frantic
        to avoid
        blasting dj spinning
        tunes
        debauching the young
        and
        you know
        i could actually
        hear people squish
        the men sweaty
        the women frothy wet
        and
        i lay in bed
        now
        thinking of futile
        grant application
        attempts and the
        beautiful mexican girl
        dancing with swaying
        pendulous breasts while
        wedding sized bells
        frolic in my increasingly
        shrinking dehydrated head.