Misha
Spoken word for a special someone who holds me together when I’m on the edge. I don’t know what I’d do without. With heartfelt thanks, and wishing you the recognition you deserve.
Pig in a Sweater + Younger Years
Its rare that I stumble across a photo from the teen years – so few actually existed to begin with. Happened to find this one online while trying to get an old email address up…so much younger – had just moved to MA running from drugs.
Maybe 19?
Lucy….in a sweater…
And to cap it off…..pig in a sweater!
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Elegantly Disturbed Haikus – #1
wearing an embryo,
would prefer a large flopping sombrero,
small skin means tight fit.
bedazzled rodents fly,
as shockingly agile bullets,
spreading feet like wings.
plastic horror show,
melts to a puddle of goop,
Barbie versus torch.
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Antenna Guts Missing the Iron Pubic
I might be in love with a man….fucking wonderful and aurally intoxicating.
The pyramid inveighed.
The hallucination sconce,
the pharaohs block arbitrary –
pull out the defeated parallel world.
Depression intoxicates
your laced orb.
Fidelity develops by exploded monopoly.
Untrammeled voidness,
slowly repeated missing,
you look like a turned ripped feature.
Antenna guts;
trashed by the iron pubic.
The evil me tore the glitch thereof.
A canopy erection,
a flambeau paralysis,
The voyage punctuation
composed of rheum beings.
Above you
tongues commit humility.
A flappy neurological citrus –
direct voice-over congregation
of poised disruptor whim,
Corn chasms
fuck through the goddess power.
We belong to the self-annoyed nausea.
Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet
All rights Reserved.
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Interesting “nature versus nurture” thoughts…your thoughts?
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Green Hair Angel
Spoken word is coming shortly…if you haven’t seen it, I’d really love to hear some of your own work…take a look at the Studio34 for the listing if you don’t see it a post or two down. Cheers!
She told me in a voice that wants for something more,
“I’m stuck with you and you with me,
But I don’t want to be stuck,
I just want to be happy.”
Simple words of wisdom,
Drop out the only mouth from which I tend to listed.
All around life is in tatters again,
It’s a battle of just going and going,
Churning up the ground as I try for traction.
People ask if I even know what I want,
It would be easier to drop my head in the sand,
No one wants to be confronted by the fact,
That survival doesn’t constitute a plan.
No goals
Just obligations.
Another sick hollow spot,
Self-indulgent in wasted life,
A never ending emotionless vacation.
The idea of walking a road with no end in sight,
Sounded so peaceful when I was younger.
I can’t be old enough to be this tired,
Those thoughts drag my feet,
Mired in mud six feet deep.
When you’re bound to the pipes,
The needles, the bottles, the pinners, the caps, the strips, the tabs and the doses,
The misery never knowing, always moving,
Chaotic insecurity, discomfort and the fear –
It’s easy to lose yourself in the haze,
No rag can clean vision so glazed.
Occasionally you need a multi-colored head of hair to show you that there is still more to be had.
That whatever tomorrow brings,
It’s worth holding steadfast to belief in something better.
Even if you have to lean on each other to get there.
She told me in a voice that wants for something more,
“I’m stuck with you and you with me,
But I don’t want to be stuck,
I just want to be happy.”
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
(Need your Help!) Addiction & Recovery – Spoken Word, Rap, Rhythm
Looking for your word(y) contributions….
Anything and everything…spit fire or choke gargling on vomit…just a message in your own words.
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Amp up until your pupils drool…
Long night, long day.
Screeching whistles from the bat winged harpies playing in the sun.
I swear I put a dog collar over the tree stump last week,
Wonder what happened to the dog?
I should probably go out and check,
But now it’s impossible to tell through all their beaks.
Should have embellished the points of each ear,
Small silver trellises of moonlight into nursery rhymed eyes.
C’est la vie,
I’ve got a lockjawed dedication that demands fevered lacerations,
And if they leave a few eggs on the ground for breakfast this evening –
-so much the better.
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Madness in the Museum — Charlie Zero The Poet
Shibboleth gossip sucking sobriety – Invidia Cielo E Magick phlegm archives bleed the child withdrawn. Alternate you executed each. That anxiety comes from coyotes. Splinter gash the ever caprice peptic. Wagner strangles his virtual appendix. Genocide glow sarcasm one off demon, a torso floating graffiti, please bore my pain 6. Multiplying eradication, Plow pulls angel […]
via Madness in the Museum — Charlie Zero The Poet
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Trust
Another lost basis of honor,
Failed mediums of drive,
A staccato rhythm of boots,
And the pending crinkle of the chains.
I wish you miserable excuses for people would leave me alone.
Just to be with myself and the few I love.
Instead, you force your fears into my comfy world,
And here I sit again…holding on by my nails and bated breath.
Stay the fuck away.
I’m sick of you,
The snap is going to be sharp and intense.
I’d beg you.
But you’d probably ignore it anyway.
So let me hold you close.
Into the abyss we can fall together.
To Ink - a blog from Melting Neurons 