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new orleans spleen
a satire of emotion and youth
(a masturbatory derision)


find a different way of assembling words of than
common narrative/dialogue-

irregular placement
rhythm, flow, in placement

not to be spoken or read in the common fashion
but rather perused as if a painting
read from all angles

words twisted, oversimplified

New Orleans Spleen
 Note to all small 
 town artists visiting
 magical big city- (virgin)
 Jaywalking laws apply-

I was high, drunk, paranoid
sleepless, on speed, hungry
thirteen dollars in new orleans
in mardi gras and nervous
about people being offended by
my savage independence and the 
slices all up and all down
my wrists
people working on mardi gras are often pissed off
an old man asked if i were lost
i handed him a cigarette and nodded
he called me pops and i strode across
the street

right now im quite 
fucked up from
drea mrugs d
dr s u glisnen jazz
on 7.98 radio
under beckoning curtains
wi thnd lithe
but im smirking
and tomorrow ill
be walking up
bourbon street with my hands in my
old dream boy, tom waits, ellington,s ome dead king
JLF scott fitzgerald
who am i today
spinning mind

(weed, beer, wandering through french quarter looking 
for my assassin, black tar heroin, nothing stylish there,
kiddies, ate the skin off a man asleep in flowers and

it would be better
for some people
to just have a personality
there are too many damn rules 
to follow
everyone really
im reading prewritten
polite sludge 
from my guts and the backs of my
blank eyes
hoping i dont 
set someone into 
a fury over
dust falling in
populated rooms
fell of restless people
yawning like idiots
everything is obvious
what peril lies in
the position of your lips
on your face

I am an angry person
but it doesnt 
make me
humiliation and masochism
really makes me write
writing poetry
is like bragging about
your masturbatory
technique to a
waitress or a bum (Street Inquisitor?)
Bad poetry, leave me
i always thought high school teachers
with their poetry was enough
to make a sunny
afternoon unpleasant
you are a stereotype, i am a stereotype
and this and most 
poetry trash
sounds like a middle aged high school
teacher trying to enrapture desultory (5 points)
students at window lust

living in a society 
made up by misanthropes
is especially jeering 
if your a misanthrope 
everyones got the wrong idea
sees some other reality
and were just swapping 
suits in
a cardgame ive 
always been too fucked 
up to care about

monday afternoon in
new orleans on a bed
no sleep in days
too drunk and fatigued
to go exploring
like a little boy
id be lying if i said 
this city
werent like a drug
insanity paints my 
face like a pair of
sunglasses reflecting
another reality
it seems sometimes like
cliché after cliché

(weed and speed in my new pipe, and 
small amounts snorted off a pencap, beer

im not used to people being honest,
friendly, accepting
never, ever simple people
contortion fills the 
canals of their
plowed mind like oil
squeezing on the dirt
like a heart squeezing on the body
ive never understood why and what for
people laugh, or cry,
or assemble and
enact their character
things explainable by 
logical thought are
only lies and success together
ive found
all of it "absurd
i like drugs and alcohol
its all television to me except what isnt (much)
isolation, insanity ,lust, unquestioned
or withheld and abhorred passions

People want things
out of you-
Let it all fade
and try to have
soft dreams
while they carry
you to your
cool grave

(absinthe, beer, weed, sleep?

are we all invalids
crippled by our
all that does not
make money, costs
so watch it dry up
take your pill
dont be late for work

(weary english nervous girl answers sarcastically with a gesture of
mock servitude "the time is five eleven
i must behave royally, mimic of dead alcoholics, madmen, lust crazed
scribblers, aloof

5" o' clock
and I'm a strange
in love, I'd probably
break down crying
in a bar
unless I had gone alone
my boy is(not) thinking about
all the new ways he can bust my cherry
(he can't (can) help it)
(Anmfd Eiygh Ncayte ilpj idither
i need to buy toothbrush
and a muffler for my dreambox
my ass too
self loathing
shit faced in the delirious sun falling

(wandering streets drunk/high)

More Alcohol and drugs
and I dont notice much
it all flies by in a haze
of other peoples impressions
I walk past beer taps
handfuls of potent drugs
muscular titties slapping my expressive face around 
terse dismissals of loneliness
unaware that upon
request, it could be gained
our miseries are our own fantasies
the self is the worst enemy
for the self is the least suspected
hate yourself and your life will be
you will split in two
and fight yourself to the death
im anxious to go to bourbon street,
a bar
but im tired, so ill lay in 
the dark 
until 11:20
conjuring ghosts from my imagination
to swat away upon
reality rising, hopeful

the second he could 
he began to run
never letting the
water settle into
that terrible
(it doesnt bother me so much)
until his skin was hanging
running became more foreboding 
than the 
and he stumbled 
in, took a sip
and a hit
pallid became florid
and he passed out 
then one day began
to run again always
at some minimum wage register
(much like me
only not so enthusiastic

time to go

personal log
to keep feelings
paranoia strangling
perfume wafts over
my moist body
anxious and fatigued

you went away
(here it comes
colors became blurry and vicious
there was pain
you see in disheveled lone old
mens faces as they cross
the street
pain you hear in the first
sound of each morning
being the expressway
pain as in the gray 7am
streets surrounding bus station
and mental hospitals under
sunken yellow lights
pain as in silence
pain as in 
the most gruesome life-takes
know the most delicious task
is when they never admit to
their prey their intentions, even
while committing them neither
with emotions, movements, gestures
they are polite
as if giving the person something
they had been wishing for
a lonnng time
when you left me
I drank a glass of wine
opened my wrists
and blathered shame
to disinterested strangers
i can hear the sounds 
of parade outside
but am indisposed, tired
broke, confused, and rolling
my eyes in stupid lost
suicide stumbling bliss
my brain cackles and
clacks like a throng
leather belts
striking tin
pain as in your mothers face 
when you still havent changed
pain as in watching 
drift off
your light all
the while 
pledging its inertia
(it sounds as if hes giving birth
pain as in seeing your
childhood unravel
wilting petals with
one or two remembrances
pain as in having your father
begging you to suck your dick
because no one will look at him
but you
ive gone off now 
spilled over the rims
and onto the stove hissing
fury at fucking up so
many things
having nothing now but
the company of my memories
of loss, failure, ruin
so pitiful it couldnt 
be told from any sort
of point of view
or put into a story
unless i showed a
scathing hatred for
myself and my life
driving over springs
first bud through the
noxious snow with
the $50 wheel of your
car you puzzle over in your middle
age because you need
something to believe in
watching people you once
filled yourself full of love
and admiration for
become the same useless people that kept you
up all night grinding
your teeth
just wanting out
so hard to love
(weeping clowns and lost children holding red balloons 
looking down a busy street 
so hard to love
even harder now
nothing left here to
salvage but the
airy taste
of desolation
snow blanketed field
gray sky and nothing 
else but wind
craving death in
a cheap meat 
locker and 
hitting the pipe
with trembling fingers
last living dollars 
shaved away 
to pay for lining 
in your cxffin
always asleep in
the reality of things
when you left me
i went to new orleans
to die
and it smells like
flowers outside
fuck me
fuck me plz 
i dont know anymore
what is supposed
to be done
and found
and love must be
found here, this way
and i vex all my blessings
with self loathing
and bad poetry
cluttering the window 
sills i am hiding
behind an empty
skirt from another
empty skirt to
hide behind
sometimes the wind
blows you apart like
a notebook
the sun peers blankly
into your eyes and
gawks idiotic just like
everything else
each day suicide
seems more
gets funnier
like this gruesome 
drunk idiot
telling the same joke
over and over
again until
it starts to

(more speed, weed, black tar heroin, absinthe *blush*,american alcohol 
restless wanderings and philanderings, faint dalliance, much humility 
in my gait

pages of musty
nervous recollections
pages of childhood faces
bad stains
nervous music
manchild fooling no one
dick in hand
maybe ill find some
heroin tonight
i mean tomorrow
on bourbon

these are pitiful words
drunken words
suicidal words
heartbroken words
empty words
dementia again
i need sleep
i need booze
i am a shaved 
sheep running
through traffic
sodomizing myself
with one hoof
and hopping on the
other three
stupid dreams of life
they bore me
a particular shade
of self loathing
"they try so hard
to break out of their
little worlds
much like me, sad dog, beaten
i tried to beat the
misery but i couldnt
and i sank beneath
singing voices

in the sink 
there is a drain
in the drain
there is me
on my bed
are bedbugs
on me
is misery

dont ever laugh as the hearse rolls by for you will be the next to die
they wrap you up in a long white sheet and preen your flam nice and neat
wipe you with mushy flowers from the scalp to the lap to the feet
and tuck you away nicely in a drawer
beneath a blanket of soil and sleet

(chronic schizophrenia!
(chronic shhizophrenia!
(chronic budz

he fell in love at a glance
and lost the face in a crowd
after that
growing old in a lawn chair
watching his breath and his beer
and the passing of another
hollow year
smiles wearily at the face 
he once loved

most people follow an abstract
predetermined agenda

created in their childhood
and sustained by a fear of

the mind and the body is a channeling 
device capricious
prone to all sort of whimsy
character changes, urges

when people enter
any establishment
they are shot if
they enter the bathroom
or go in the back
to "pay"
or wait at a special booth, etc, etc
or taken by the police 
anywhere (executed)
or let people into house
no one ever taken by force 
all is entrapment

people walk around w/ nooses binding their necks 
if they obviate from
"Agenda" it tightens, continually
tightens until they die
(some things make the noose just pull up, killing)
or loosens at the efficacy of agenda

ol' man gots offon
givin' naivetes/virgins
seduces them in the most human manner
w/ love
and reverence
stupid poetry love
its all smoke

everything cashed tired
ok, its fecund and ready for the husking (fuck you mister!

i can see it in my dreams

a man grimaces 
with gang rape fury
at the sound of 
my arrogant
beercan(ego) popping
down sounds from 
my virgin window open
cocks grow everywhere boys touch
queers to slurp in old age

(some people i know
only see dollars and snow)

(ohio, away 
muffled chrome horns
settle in the cracks of the morning windows)

not another one, god, shut up
sew his mouth shut with the strings from his guitar
i hope my brother 
shows up
shakespeare sneers
in the cloudy night
mustve pissed him 
off with my innocence
smeared on the other side,
all thoughts are seen 
like ghosts
dancing under their shawls
in thin cigarette smoke
lies obvious
nothing is hidden
he stormed off
ah well
another friend, another brother
off running, alright
corrupt and
exacerbate my
virgin dreams
cut down the stalks
before they grow
that beauty is 
down the road
blinded by her dreams
its like im walking 
around new orleans
with my cock dangling out
innocence is a cage
for decadence
and vice-versa
cut the flowers heads 
off before they grow
or watch beauty 
wilt like your face
like your childrens good will
like your childhood
dreams of becoming
(shut up already,
humanity is a farce
revel in our abstraction)
drown your children
in the river, mother
i understand you
television is americas
most potent opium
it makes all emotion
numb, like some sweet 
novacane dissolving
in your veins (drunk
cutting you off from 
those sensations of flesh
people hate because
they cannot love
those artists-
you know them 
their miserable faces
sneering away the minutes
on your t.v. screen
one can get famous
with the right kind
of mirror
lonliness, desolation,
paranoia, gut me, self,
you are another
so gut me before
i can gut another
grow ugly on the 
scent of your hate
like sink glue hate unravels like
a bible
hate unravels like
a spiteful joke
demon when drunk
cut my throat doctor
my fingers are too long
i scare and damage 
those i love
wretched creature
maybe my brother
will come back! 

(drugs under the streetlights, hints of weedsmoke in the 
washing treetops and bustops, meagerly priced 
cunts hissing at you like sirens from the french quarter)

and i thought
someone stole this
(i couldnt find it)
out of one of my
paranoiac strollers
be as nondescript 
as possible
slightest waves
strike the innermost
limestone souls
so long, shithead
ok, seealater
sorry sir
the speck of dust on your
index finger, singes virgin
hairs from anothers spine
schizophrenics are sad 
ones, they only hurt 
the ones they love
deep from the 
riverbed of television america
here i come,
with more
deep scars
for the pinkflesh
behind your fingernail
kill me please,
im doing it myself
but its taking 
to fucking long

felix ,i cant do it
cant hold my drinks
im going to lose it
i cant hold the drinks,
im spinning like
the town insulter
all spinning violently
need something to hold onto
im going to lose it felix,
im going to lose it ,lose
it all into an ashfilled bag, louis

drunk, and the
plaster from the ceiling
falls and buries 
my inert body
i am too afraid to 
vicious madman
help yourself
sleep it off
chew your teeth 
into toothpicks
kill people with a
i am a creature
beastly, cover me
in wrappings
i make the children
weep and snarl
its all spinning
its all melting
drug, and sleep it 
off, just sleep it
off, old drunk,
the sun will melt
the wax illusions
that make your 
heart tremulous
its empty, its dead
its my fault
ive slaughtered love
for 7.98 and a
pack of cigarettes
(material for another satire
sleep it off, old 
drunk, youre still 
young yet
regain your posture
sleep it off
no one can tell
you your not going
to stumble dead at your
cigarette burned carpet and dusty coffers
as you do when
drunk youll never regain
your tired sprawl
after that
sleep it off drunk
sleep off life
just! let it fall
through your fingers
like money
have another, suicide
you wont live to age
27, a breeze makes 
you shed tears
you shed droplets of blood
i am the idiot
i am the ass waiting to be booted
just go to sleep, it
will all be over soon
let it float like steam
over your sleeping 
let it float

sleep it off
let me sleep
let me sleep

the clock ticks
the clock walks
the clock walks
down the lane
through the refuse

a drop of beer
strikes my face
from above,
on bourbon street
will i weep tears
of whiskey
it will dry up
all nasty like
and cake your eyebrows
like roadsalt
let me sleep
sleep now
let me sleep now
let me sleep it off

(weed, sleep, chaos uneasy, muffled thumps, a gunshot blocks down
or a firework ominous trees offering savory repellant in their
swaying repose behind the candy coated sky)

your innocence 
makes as much noise
as a screen door
slapping down the wind
i want to lick
your innocence
off of your thighs
i want to drink
the droplets
that drop out
of your eyes

fathers sip their wine
as their sons
coax away their demons
to keep
company for a lifetime

sometimes you will find
these rare girls
ages fourteen and fifteen
who will fuck you
inside out
because you smirk
once too often

im so drunk
i cant move
im so drunk
my dreams burst and 
rage like grapes
plump on the vine
teasing each other on the wind
into barrels
to get wine
to get so drunk
like me
encapsulated, drunk, stupid kid
on the suicide float
in the mardi gras parade

Oh, drunk again,
you Idiot!
I lay in my hole already dug(?)
and play with my flowers
and laugh at my
grinning unresponsive
skeleton friends
tug on that rope
and petals will waft
down from the sky
on that path that 
cuts through the
trees swaying dramatically
in the silence
at the silence
dopefish flopping in the ink
laughing at the way you walk
your wounds glow like coins
in the guts of a fountainhead
your blood flows like the
horns of a mossy riverbed
a fountainhead grinning at the north

each mouth mumbles
constantly says "what"
never hear each other,
say insults, other things
not heard, misheard

he held his eyes shut 
tight from birth
and when his loves
hand finally opened them
with a caress his mouth
opened slightly
and his face dripped 
he got so drunk
that he couldnt move
and watched the parade
from a bench
at a bus stop

dialogue where all hate each other
nobody takes notice, or cares

soon the shit will
fall out
and i will be
like dandelion smoke
like weed froth

absinthe, 30 dollar blowjob 

starry fucking night
i cant sleep
and im high and drunk
the sky looks like deaths face smirking
the bugs crawl over my body sick with lust
dripping in the dark
the bugs crawl over my magazines
the bugs crawl over my pennies
this lust is too much
for this body
i lick the sky
i suck on dripping 
exhaust pipes
i reach into the earth
with my swollen fist
and pull out knots
of earthworms
pink and writhing
laughter emitting from
my right ear

sweat stains my five day shirt
cum stains my five day shirt
beer stains my five day shirt

young girls pluck
virgin flowers from
their bodies
and wipe their colors
on the pages of 
their notebooks

we are expendable 
our music is only noise
like everything else
our averted natures
allow our mind
to flourish
all of you is
extra except
your hands
pull the lever
tap the keys
yank the skin
point in the opposite direction

bugs crawl my mattress
bugs crawl my sheet
music floods my ruddy ears
i havent heard in years

everywhere is haunted

everywhere is the same
the misery follows
you everywhere
the ghosts from you
life whispering the music
that make you grimace 
all over

everything is a lie
trying to pass itself
off as the truth
everything is a joke
ashamed of itself
or otherwise

broken, incorrect, bad
emotionally tinged
tilted, broken, no rhythm

the same hopeless
dreams latch and
pinch onto you skin
and drag behind 
you like flags
of toilet paper
before you know it
you will be van gogh
drug off your own sweat

an isolated, odd, different
twisted, sad way of
codependent idiot living!

almost there


another writer
not another writer
some lady on a bus
blaring rap music
and filling pages with 
words the heroine of
her own tragic and
comic lovestory
another writer
another image
another phony ploy
for money and attention
and no one gives 
a shit
its all the same
you can tell whats
going to happen before it does
these words will turn
into jibberish in five
dumb bitch

Make the vulgarity 
and the vicious 

insatiable predatory
interests of man
baseness idiocy
insurmountable overzealous
complexity and
violence overdrawn
and musical in its vulgar comedy

why, when i was a boy i had devils running 
all up and down my strapped body like stinging 
wet cunts with legs! i was full of evil! i pissed 
in a birdbath when i was four! i want to hurt myself, 
old man of sixty! i drink beerz all day you fucking 
brat! stop humoring, and patronizing me you sweet wigs,
with your sugar pills and ameliorating lyrics! im a 
fucking smart old man! i stuck my toe in a cats ass 
and booted it through a window! my right foot is black 
from guilt of my ridiculous stupid life! my mother was 
impregnated by a man who had just been shot in the head!
she dove on his spurting cock just in time! i went to the 
neighborhood fags house with a rose! i want to drown in a 
tin can full of lies! im an old man whose rocking chair is 
his big hole in the ground! they told me it didnt matter, but 
it does, i hurt my own delicate feelings and want to cry! i 
passed wind when i saw a woman writing poetry on a bus! ive 
always hated my friends and family! and my wife and kids were 
fucking bloated pigs! they ate away 90% of my paycheck everyweek 
and were all at least 100 pounds heavier than i! i act like 
i want to fuck everyone to keep them away! i used to jack off in 
booths in arbyson sunday afternoon snickering! i look at grlz legz. mommies 
and daddies care made me want to put babies in ziplocs. even though i gave them food 
and blankets they threw me and my still into the river while i was sleeping inside it. all i 
do now is pretend to complete writing crossword puzzles while im really writing this 
leaves cover the soil

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