THOSE HORNY DAYS OF YORE

         Once upon a midnight dreary, while I jerked off weak and weary  

         Over many a quaint and curious volume of Hard core Asian Porn 

         While my monkey I was slapping, suddenly there came a tapping

         As if someone loudly rapping, rapping at my bedroom door. 

         ‘Tis my mother,’ I muttered, wanting me to do some stupid chore

         ‘Tis that dumb bitch, and nothing more.  

         Ah distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December

         And each separate yank off session wrought its semen on the floor. 

         Eagerly I wished to yank it, quickly I sought my blanket  

         And began to spank it to my vast collection of Asian porn 

         For jerking off quite consumed me in those horny days of yore    

         Those horny days nevermore.  

         And the slipping and the sliding of each three-inch Asian cock inside her 

         Thrilled me- filled me with orgasmic splendors never felt before

         So when I heard that rapping, that annoyingly familiar tapping

         I was inclined to thinking it was my Mother at the door

         And so kindly I did say, “Go away you stupid whore!”

         And return nevermore. 

         Presently my prick grew softer, masturbating then no longer,

         Sir, said I, or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore

         But my dolphin I was waxing, when you came a-loudly rapping

         and so annoying was that rapping, that rapping at my bedroom door

         I thought for sure it was my Mother, but here I have opened the door

         And there is darkness only, and nothing more.

         Into the darkness I was blinking, as my erection started shrinking

         Quicker than if I was peeking into the shower at Michael Moore

         But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,

         And the only word there spoken was the whispered word:

         “STOP JERKING OFF YOU LOSER AND FIND SOME GIRLS!”

         Merely the wind, I said, but then again the words returned: 

          “STOP JERKING OFF YOU LOSER AND FIND SOME GIRLS!” 

         Merely this, and nothing more!

        

         Back I returned to stroking, my dick thru my boxers once more poking,

         When again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before

         “Surely,” said I, there is something out there though not my mother

         Let me see then, what the bother, and this mystery explore

         Let me cease to jerk off a moment and this mystery explore-

         And then go back to jerking off once more.

         Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter

         In there stepped a stately gerbil of the saintly days of yore,

         No greeting words he lent to me, as if he rented the room right next to me

         But his eyes looked right through me, piercing me to the core

         Making it too weird to jerk off…anymore.     

         Then this furry rodent beguiling my sad fancy into smiling

         By the grave and stern decorum that this gerbil was presently wearing  

         Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou, I said, art sure no craven,

         Ghastly grim and ancient gerbil wandering from the nightly shore-

         Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian Shore?

         Quoth the gerbil, “Melvin P. Finkelstein.”

         Like a wind blowing though me I was startled to hear a name so Jewy

         But I was quick in discerning that like the comic Whoopie Goldberg

         This gerbil who spoke to me so boldly must be Jewish in name only

         But the thought that still detained me was what this ominous gerbil

         Meant in croaking, “Quit Jerking Off and Find Some Girls!

         This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

         To the gerbil whose gaunt eyes now burned into my man bosom’s core

         This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining,

         On the giz stained Spiderman lining of my defiled Comforter

         The giz stained Spiderman lining that reflected all my pining

         And years jerking off to Asian porn. 

         Wretch, said I, thing of evil- prophet still, gerbil or devil  

         Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

         Whether from Heaven’s sphere or from out of the bum of Richard Gere

         You have crawled to haunt me here- tell me truly, I implore

         Why interrupt me as I am watching this Japanese woman on all fours

         Quote the gerbil, “QUIT JERKING OFF AND FIND SOME GIRLS!”

         These cryptic words and nothing more were all he spoke to me

         Get thee back into the tempest and Hell’s fiery shore-

         Leave no poop droppings as a lasting token of what you’ve spoken 

         Leave thy horniness unbroken, let me watch my hard core Asian porn!

         For I am so lonely I tell thee, so lonely in my deep heart’s core

         Quoth the gerbil, QUIT JERKING OFF AND FIND SOME GIRLS!

         And the gerbil, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

         On the pallid bust of Pauly Shore just above my bedroom door

         And his eyes have all the seeming of a gerbil that is shitting

         Especially when he is shitting, shitting on my bedroom floor  

         And all the porn that for years on my computer I have stored   

         Shall be jerked off to- nevermore! 

Letter to a Friend

   That night you came back into town

And saw me combing the city up and down

For drugs to distract my restless brain

You said it made you feel ashamed.

You said you hardly knew me then

And you weren’t about to have a junky for a friend

You severed ties with me that night,

Unburdening yourself from my lonely plight

And in a single instant nothing remained,  

Years of drunken laughter down the drain.

I am not the same, this much is true

It seems each year I get a little more blue 

And the worst part is these drugs I do 

they just don't get me high the way they used to. 

Yes, it’s safe to say I am doing pretty bad

At the end of each day I am always a little sad

But there is a change in you too

That I would like to speak of,

Which is the hollowness in your heart

I once misconstrued for love.  

For you turned away from me that night

With a callousness that can only be called an art

Renting out the parking space I used to park in

A few feet from your fickle heart.

So go on your way, our days of laughter are done

Your memories like pebbles I toss one by one

Into a river gilded by a glossy sun. 

Watch as they sink beneath the brine

To be entangled by the sunless reeds for all time

Silently enfolded and forever lost

Buried with the millions of severed loves that too were tossed

By bitter lovers whose hearts were nailed to a bitter cross.

So stick close to the people who stay in the sun 

And crowd your life with only the best,

The ones who naturally breed success,

Cautious and prudent, careful with money

And if a joke’s too mean they won’t find it funny.

And they’ll never drink to get drunk for fear they’ll act boldly,

And they can never find time on their schedule to ever feel lonely,

with thoughts forever fixed on pay-raises and pensions, 

fortifying them from anxiety or depression, 

And they will Lift you up on the days you feel down

They are Lifeguards of Life’s Worries, you will never drown.

And you’ll never fall apart or wake up in a ditch

You’ll never have a wound that can’t be stitched

And You’ll only have two drinks if it’s your turn to drive

And no matter how good the honey is, you’ll stay away from the Hive.  

And you’ll never stumble and you’ll never fall

You’re too smart to act reckless

You refuse credit cards at every Mall  

Oh yes, In life’s ceaseless battles, you will win every bout

and you'll never risk being dragged down

For not once will your hand be reaching out….

Hydrocodone Wings

Soon you won’t feel so unloved

Carl said to me then took out a bag full of drugs

What’s that you got dancin’ in the palm of your hand?
Oh this, it’s just the stuff that dreams are made of

So into the night we go sailin' on hydrocodone wings

We’re planning on laughing at every face that we meet

With unrequited love and balls wound lust-tight

Only a fool would look for God at such an hour of the night

The Nach Bar’s quite lame, there’s no one around

Except for some hipsters and a few half-drunken clowns

but then the pills start to sink in and I get to thinkin’

this night ain’t half-bad, fact it’s the best I’ve ever had

Now the drugs start to fade, I’m back in my old funk

I’m feelin’ as drained as the beers I just drunk

We go to Steak and Shake with the twilight still gleamin’

And the high we were just on has lost all of its meaning

Dreams of youth spun on a roulette wheel

Made out of beer cans and a sad, lonesome song

While God was sleeping, we stole the crown off his head

And we had us some fun ‘till he took it back again

I awake in the morning feelin’ as lonely as ever

Carl is hovering over my bed

What we do now, I ask, that the moment is gone

And he says we go out and chase it all over again

Money That Keeps on Making More Money (or the Bernie Madoff Blues)

Hey little children Bernie’s comin’ to town

He’s gonna take all your money and invest it around

When it comes to your shares he guarantees

20 percent interest, maybe even 30 you’ll see

Go to sleep little children, you’re in safe hands

Bernie’s gonna double your retirement plan

The world is uncertain, the future unknown

But you don’t have to worry, your money’s already grown

Ah but for a while it was all so comforting

I could always be sure what tomorrow would bring

Cause what can put a man more at ease

Than money that keeps on makin’ more money?

Sleep tight little children, sleep the whole night through

Things that are good can also be true

There’s poverty all around but you’re fortified

Like a dove in Noah’s flood you’re safe in the sky

Wake up little children, all your money is gone

You put your whole nest egg in the hands of a con

It was all a big lie, so easy to believe

Wake up little children to the American dream

Ah but for a while it was all so comforting

I could always be sure what tomorrow would bring

Cause what can put a man more at ease

Than money that keeps on makin’ more money?

Now there’s a Palm Beach Jewelry store offerin’ fast cash

But you’re late on your mortgage so you better act fast

The dream has dried up in the dawn’s early light

Security’s a lullaby that hums you to sleep at night

Back to not knowing where to get your next meal

Schrodinger’s cat and a blind lady’s wheel

No one is alone and there is no safe place

Welcome back little children to the human race

Ah but for a while it was all so comforting

I could always be sure what tomorrow would bring

Cause what in this world can put a man more at ease

Than money that keeps on making more money?

The Jeffrey Dahmer Blues

Jeffrey Dahmer is my name and this is my song

I killed a lot of people, I knew that it was wrong

I was a monster, I was evil, I was lonely, I was sick

The Universe that bore me played a dirty rotten trick

Born in Wisconsin right outside of Milwaukee

And if loneliness were waves I guess my soul would be the sea

As a kid I was withdrawn from the people that I’d meet

My youth was spent hearing echoes of monsters at my feet

By eighteen I was drinking hard to keep the thoughts from breaking through

But the things you try and run from you’re really just running to

I picked up a hitchhiker one day when my Dad was out of town 

We went back to my place to drink some beers and wind down

We got into a fight that I can hardly remember

He wanted to leave, and I wanted him to stay forever 

In my thirties I moved into a place that would live in infamy

I brought back many men no one ever again did see

And after I killed them, I kept the bodies around

To have someone to talk to when I was feeling down

When a victim finally escaped, the cops came knocking on my door

I tried to play it straight but it was time to pay the score

When one of the men opened the fridge he let out a frightful gasp

I had kept many souvenirs from my long, lonesome past

In prison I was sent pamphlets from my sad and aging father

About a man who knew how to stand upon the surface of the water

They say this man could forgive any sin, but this gave me little hope

When it came to my crimes, I really pushed the envelope

I was baptized in ’93 so that my soul would not be lost

The water cleansed my body but did nothing for my thoughts

And then one day in the weight room after being checked for lice

I was beaten to death by an inmate who went by the nickname Christ

I was cremated that November, they scattered my remains

My apartment was torn down, and my brother changed his name

Living in a House of Death

Grandpa's got a piss pot 

Underneath his bed

He’s 95-years-old

But doesn’t look a day over dead

And Dad’s got cancer

He hurts with every breath

Yeah, life can be a bummer

When you’re living in a house of death

Mom takes care of them

And it breaks her heart

She can never remember when

Everything began to fall apart

And she’s always cleaning

Even if there is no mess

Anything to help forget

She’s living in a house of death

The only healthy faces in my house

Are on a box of Wheaties

Even my poor cat’s been

Diagnosed with diabetes

The cabinet in the kitchen

Looks like a pharmacy

Pills for the whole dying family

And sometimes they go missing

Go missing right off the shelf

You got to take the edge off somehow

When you’re living in a house of death

Van Gogh's Last Days

A yellow house, an empty room,

Stars faintly dimming in the gloom.

Sunflowers growing in the ground,

Chrome yellow blooming all around.

Sunflowers dying in a vase.

Self-portraits of a sunken face.

A parakeet in a rusty cage.

Blood dripping from a razor blade.

“Niet, nooit, Nimmer!”

A woman drowns herself in the river.

I think it was I believe the Seine. 

In May, the wheat is young and green.

Can’t you understand, Goddamnit!

I paint what I dream!

In July the wheat is withered and lean.

Let me see her, I said, for as long as I can keep my hand in the flame!

Sunflowers drowning in the rain.

To know God, you must love many things.

Will someone ever, in this vale of tears-

Will someone ever hear my bluebird sing?

La Tristee Durera Toujours!

They will not hear,

They will not hear,

They must have all sliced off their ears.

Now jagged crows descend upon

Flaming fields of wheat

Dimming forever the bright yellows and greens

Those vibrant colors I use to paint

All the flowers and faces I have seen

But love no longer guides the brush

And I can no longer see the soul shining through

All things.

It’s time to go, it’s time to go.  

The stars no longer make me dream.

My Biggest Fan

INTRODUCTION

This poem was written in response to

A contest that asked

People to write a poem

About the most important person in their life

Their single biggest influence

The one who has made them

Who they are today.

For me, there is no question

Who that person is

And though I am not usually inclined

To writing poems for contests,

Knowing that this could be an opportunity

to finally express how grateful

I am to this special person,

How I wouldn’t be here today

Without this special someone

Made me very eager to write the poem,

Which I hope when you read

Will at the very least

Make you think about the one person

Who has inspired you the most in your own life.

Because there is a special someone

In all our lives

Who was there for us not only through the good times

But the bad times too.

The person who made us who we are today.

This poem is about that special one in my life:

                   

No one is my biggest fan

No one has been there for me

Since the beginning

And when I was feeling more than a little lonely

No one was always there

To listen.

And those times when I needed someone

To talk to

Quite badly,

So badly it could have been just anyone,

No one always came to the rescue.

No one was there for me 

Even during the bad times

When I was broke and depressed

And could barely even project

The illusion of being alive

When I didn't even think that much about sex

Which is when you know you’re really depressed

That’s when I could always rely

On no one being by my side

And while you’re other friends

Might seem more than eager to stick around

when you have some good jokes to tell

or some reasonably priced coke to sell

It's always when you have nothing

Left to give

No more jokes and no more drugs

That your friends seem so hard

To get a hold of

and so you find yourself staring for hours

at your bedroom wall

or wandering like a bored, indoor cat

through the halls

but just when you're about to lose faith in everything

just then

No one calls

Reminding you what you always knew

that you can always count on

No one coming around

When others are nowhere to be found.

And if I so much as stub my toe no one grieves for me

No one unconditionally

Believes in me

No one even likes when I sing Karaoke

Especially when I am drunk enough

to think people will enjoy me singing the entire score of

My Fair Lady or Gypsy

or Brigadoon

No one says my voice

Can really carry a tune.

And now that I am reflecting on it,

And pondering it from all sides

I don’t think I could have written

Anything

Without feeling no one’s presence

Near me at all times.

And not only when I’m writing poetry

Or songs or plays 

But how strongly I’ve felt no one’s presence

Beside me always.

I think if I had too choose

I would say no one is my greatest muse.

And during those times 

When I felt quite inspired

To walk away from it all

When the loneliness you thought you had

Flung from your hand for good

Seemed to always be returned to you

with the exactitude of those machines

that bring back your bowling ball for you

when I was quite tempted to just release my grip

and watch everything I own

float up into that shiny blue dome,

like a child has who has grown quite bored

watching his kite chained and controlled

by the string in his hand

so he finally

decides

to just

let

go

The thought that always kept me from suicide

each and every time

Was how terribly torn up

No one would be if I died.

It just didn’t seem right

When I took into account all the grieving no one would do

And so I decided to keep on going

if not for me, I would say, 

then for no one.

And when I was really doing bad,

During those rocky times-

And I know you’ve been there too-

When the world has ground you

Into pudding

And you’re pretty much willing

to believe in just about anything

so long as it’s not true

and you’re pretty much ready to pray to anyone

just to have someone to pray to

And it don’t matter if it’s Oprah or Dr. Phil,

Zoloft, Prozac, or any of those other

Wonderful pills,

Or a Horiscope, or a whore you groped,

Or something you saw on Acid in a

Kaleidescope, 

Or a quote on Facebook

or a line someone said

When you were looking for help outside your self

In all those self-help books you read

It’s always then that I would remember

Something

no one once told me:

That even if it feels as holy as the Holy Grail

Always be weary of the things people say

When they’re followed by a bill in the mail.

And besides,

No one always gives such wonderful advice anyway

Because no one knows what’s good for me.

No one knows what I need. 

No one knows where I’ve been

and no one knows where I need to be. 

And when following no one

Believing in no one

Being with no one

Becomes a little…

lonesome

A little tiring on the soul

Like on those nights when I’m ploughing

Through a pack of Marlboros

On the patio of my Parent’s house

And I know pretty soon there will

Be no more quarters or nickels

Under the couch in their living room

For me to buy cigarettes with

And no more forgotten credit cards

In the glove compartments of their cars

For me to get drunk at bars with,

And I’m thinking how rich I would be  

If I had a dime for every dollar I owe  

And I’m a disappointment in the eyes

of everyone I know

On those nights

when listening to others

has made me feel weak and dumb

that’s when I always remember

how much better I start to feel

when I go back

to listening to no one.

Oh it’s always so much easier to breath

When you’re breathing in the presence

Of no one.

And on the nights when I find myself asking

How can my life possibly get any

Worse than this?

and right as those words are flung from my lips

I look down to find that I just stepped

In a big pile of shit,

That’s when no one always comes out of nowhere

To laugh at God’s little jokes with me.

No one agrees they’re all so witty

Each one a turd you step on in the street

Right after being convinced your life can’t get

any more shitty.

And on those days when I start to fear

That lately there’s been a bit of a distance

Between me and some of my closest friends

Who I haven’t spoken to in a couple of years

Or when I wake up in the middle of the night 

With a pounding heart and a sweaty head

And the intense certainty

That nothing is the only thing waiting for me

Once I’m dead

Or when I’m lying drunk on some neighbor’s lawn

Watching the sleepy eyes of the sky

Flutter open to reveal the dawn  

And suddenly I start to see so clearly in each faded firefly

That I’ve been lying every time I tell myself

That my love for her has died  

Oh those are the times when I really get to hear

No one sing such comforting lullabies

About love and loneliness and life

And death and loss and doubt

No one has such great advice

No one can tell you what it’s all about.

Oh, I admit,

it’s not always a bed of roses,

This love

I give and get from the only one

Whose ever really known me.

And there have been certain nights

Certain nights when I’m drunk and high and

tossing empty beer cans on to my front lawn 

and I feel quite strongly

That I’ve been where

No one can find me

For far too long,

When suddenly I am a bit tempted

to go run and hide in all those places where

no one is no longer the only one walking by my side

To run and hide in the comforting shadows of a church or a synagogue

places where you can always find a friend

or at least a friend in God

or apply for some spiritually rewarding job

hoarding weapons for the next Jihad

with other lonely men

whose loneliness is so bottled up inside

they could blow up at any time

or get a job at a bank refusing people loans

or join a rock band that’s looking for someone

who can play a mean guitar   

on his I-Phone

or a part in a play

provided it’s not a one-man show

or make those lasting friendships that only a Fraternity

can make for you

and in the process learn things about friendship I never knew

like if you want to earn it, you really have to pay your dues 

or seek solace from this crazy world I’m living in

with fellow crazies in a loony bin

where we can all go crazy in a million different crazy ways

far away from people who are way too sane

or join A.A. or N.A. or any other anonymous organization

where the first thing you say is your name

or join a volleyball club

where I can finally get some sun 

or join an Internet Dating Site

where people make connections through their inability

to make connections with anyone,

or shave my head and join a monastery,

or stop at just a crew cut and suit up for the marines or the military

or, if I’m really looking for something ruthless,

take part in the bloody, political maneuverings

of a University

but it’s always when I’m going through these myriad

options in my head

that no one gently reminds me

what all self-reliant lonely men

have always known

and all self-reliant lonely songs

have always tried to tell you

that when it comes to walking

through this world

it's always best to do it

with no one right there beside you 

if only for the satisfaction you will feel

when, in the years to come,

once you have finally crawled out from the other side 

of that tunnel you’ve been trying for some time 

to crawl out from

and someone asks you

how you managed to make it here

who did you depend on for guidance

through all those gloomy years

who kept you going through the world

when you no longer thought the world

was something worth going through

And you can tell them

With more than

a little pride

just who