OH I GOT A DEMON

 

oh i got a demon
and that is a fact
and this demon won’t stop
clawing my back

oh i got a demon
and this demon just does
whatever its heart desires

from breaking windows
to starting fires

from tearing down boundaries
to putting up walls

i got a demon
yeah i got a demon

oh i got a demon
and i named him frank
i figured he’d stick around
oh i got a demon
and if i’m not careful
he’ll tear me into the ground

i got a demon
and no reason for livin
this demon is takin
but boy, he ain’t givin

i’m stepping outside on the good days
i’m staying inside on the bad
i’m sending devotion to all my past lovers
i’m devotionally married to sad

i’m carryin my groceries
i’m carryin my crosses
i’m carryin my sore wins
and more my sore losses

because
i got a demon
and no reason for livin
this demon is takin
but boy, he ain’t givin

this demon i leave him home some days
i leave him some days, it’s true
but i’ve got him with me wherever i go
cause i don’t want to give him
to you

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2014

READ “KICKIN IT”

About these ads

AN EMPTY ORCHESTRA.

i was put on this earth to bang my head endlessly against the keyboard
to splatter pollack jizz on white white white white paper and to listen
to jazz alone in rooms with no windows and ageless space and dull air
air that’s been processed far too many times in and out of my lungs
exhausted carbon dioxide monoxide dihydrogen oxide and blood
these walls they bump like raised veins through skin and my lonely om
is the tone that brings them so close to climax in this heroin binge
this lapdance to the past half of my life as i approach sigh my
quarter life crisis

i was put on this earth to bang my head endlessly against the keyboard
and walk down endless sidewalk approaching dawns and dusks that want
absolutely freaking nothing to do with me the sun is far too busy
trying to keep up with his endless addendum to wonder about me
don’t you worry about me, darling, i’m just fine swimming in the tempest
in my teacup, the sound of howling wolves echoes through porcelain skulls
turned upside down and as i lay in this mug that says “life’s a bitch” on it
i stare up at the night stars of moab and realize that we are just as close
as we are far from this timeless waltz, timeless waltz, timeless waltz
this masquerade of atoms in the eve, bowing and curtsying in the garden of eden
we keep digging for the garden in the middle east with guns like shovels
and diplomacy like pails but our king’s cup runneth over, our holy grail
spilleth in rivers of blood as baby moses is swept away into the dead sea
when really we should turn our eyes to the skies and see that peace is floating

it is orbital, it is all around us, the intentional space between the skydiamonds
that do not compare how bright they shine they just be and burn the midnight oil
of themselves and we trek to work to make the coffee to fax the paper to
shake the hands to kiss the ass to assist the customer to spin in chairs and
try to mimick the gravity of being shot into space but we just wear our monkey
suits to work and trek to giant metal death machines through energy drive thrus
and past last call and we cheers our glasses to fiscal responsibility while the
karaoke machine just cries in the corner. an electric death. an empty orchestra.

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2013

READ “SINATRA ON THE MOON”

BEAUTIFUL HOUR

sometimes it’s just too much to ever handle
there’s too many woman with eyes like intelligent design
there’s a sun that has burned for all of us
and will always continue to burn for all of us
and when we don’t have that, we have the moon
we have the moon and the stars and the black silk sky
and the oceans that reflect the light so we’re captured
we’re captured between the two and we don’t have a choice
but to see ourselves as one common entity
we are all, all of us, every single one of us
part of the same vehicle of life, don’t flatter yourself
you are not something special
you are amongst a billion special things
we need to seek this out in one another, in everyone
we need to remember the way
that we help to push the grass out of the ground
we must remember the way that a heart can succumb
to a bass line, i’m not even joking
your heart can literally adjust to the music it hears
and it definitely can adjust to those around you
so i beg of you to answer, why can’t our eyes see
why can’t we appreciate the million instruments
that surround us, and the glorious grandiose
extraterrestial superhuman cataclysmic kaleidoscopic
kandinskily colorful grandiloquent magnum opus of existence?

you don’t know
none of us know
we make up questions
and we find answers
but we can feel each other’s presence
we know when someone is looking at us
we can feel love
never forget that one
we can feel love
sometimes it’s easy to get separated from that
but it’s there
i assure you
right now
i have enough for all of you
and i’m trying to pass it on
i can’t hold onto it
i’ll explode
we’d all explode
be unafraid to love those around you
be unafraid of what is different
because the things that are the same
are boring, they’re boring
and you don’t want to go to the same grocery store
at the same time
to see the same boring faces
and buy the same foods
and check out with the same cashier
every day of your short short short short short life
life is not very long
bad days drag out tugging at our legs
to appreciate the good ones

open your mind
open your eyes
open your arms
open your rib cage
and let that god damn drum beat
let it beat
let it beat like it has never beat before
bleed on the canvas of life
do not be afraid
of being too happy
there is no such thing
there are no limits
that’s the god damn point
you will not put a period on the end of a sentence
you are a conjunction
you are the connective tissue of everything
we need you
i need you
even if i don’t know it
reassess the hatred in your life
what aren’t you doing?
what should you be doing?
who should you be calling?
what do you have to say to who?
i guarantee you
i fucking guarantee you they will be glad to hear it
even if it’s bad news
and there is bad news
just open
regret there not being more hours in the day
and that is all
i want you to imagine yourself smiling
and now i want you to smile
can you do that for me?

can you do that for me?

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2013

READ “BUKOWSKI #2″

Interesting in submitting to Flashlight City Blues?

A TOAST

lift up your spirits!
to this cataclysmic evening!
this parade!
of howling wolves! and monkeys!
to the altered perspectives!
of angels!
and their subjective
paradise!

let our warped worlds come together!
like pangea in reverse!

let all religions reside within us all!
and all around us!

this is my wish for you.
and all of you.

let us toast!
to the fact our irises
are all different colors!
and our pupils are
all
the
same!

let’s get lost!
in the rambunctious sound
of
actual
reality!

and remind our souls
that love
is not just romance:
it is
every breath
the flowers give us
and each one
we return to them!

parks
that are dead
in winter
and alive
with lush green grass
and wide-
eyed people
in summers!

let’s toast!

to the smell of rain!
to the taste of laughter!
forever! tonight!
and ever after!

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “SHOCK TOP”

WHERE HAVE YOU GONE TO, AMERICA?

i tried calling
you didn’t pick up

where have you gone to, America?
i can’t find you under my bed or in my closet with the other monsters
you seem to be everywhere all at once like you’re imitating God, but maybe you’re just photocopying yourself until the ink turns to white like your flag on the moon
where have you gone to America?
when I go down on you, you never return the favor

where have you gone to, America?
your model homes are empty
your desks in your schools are empty
your teachers are just praying for tenure
where have you gone to, America?
are you in Central Park with those cast to the corners?
are you in Brooklyn with the rappers who reside in check out counter headphones?

the Dodgers are in Los Angeles now
the Lakers are in Los Angeles now
how come she always gets whatever she wants?
where have you gone to, America?
your youngest daughter still needs you

where have you gone to, America?
your unwrapped gifts are stacking up under the Xmas tree
your churches have walls to expand for the holiday rush

where have you gone to, America?
you left the groceries out on the table
you left your poor friends out on your San Francisco doorstep
you left your children at school with a gun
and you want to blame the trigger for the finger that pulled it

you want the television to babysit us
while you go out drinking with strange men

i tried leaving you this message, America
but your mailbox was full

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “ANDROID”

FEAR

fear is the strings that move the fingers across the typewriter
fear is the blood that pumps the legs through the unemployment line

fear is the crackle behind the mother’s voice in the son’s head
the father’s voice in the daughter’s head
fear is the force that lifts the blouse over the head
the pants down off the ankles
fear is the wind that blows the sheets off of the bed

fear is the truth that pushes the words from the back of the throat to the ears of the anxious
fear is the fire in the pit of the stomach that burns the oils of regret

fear is not the torch that leads through the tunnel
fear is what you are left with when the light goes out
when you walk blindly using the broken glass beneath your uncalloused feet to guide you to uncertain rooms, uncertain bars,
uncertain jobs, wars, trenches
into the uncertain hands of uncertain lovers
where on off day days you get a good glance at something fleeting
but worth the walk

fear is not the snap of a father’s belt

fear is those residual scars you choose to keep
and those you let fade
those battles you fight like a mad man
and those you let go of like lovers
you wanted to hold onto
but sometimes the things we want most
are the things that would kill us

fear is the bones beneath the skin of courage
and fear is what is left in the ground
when we disattach
unafraid
from our bodies

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “LOITERING IN THE PARKING LOT OF AN EVIL BANKING CORPORATION”