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”

About these ads

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”

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”

LOITERING IN THE PARKING LOT OF AN EVIL BANKING CORPORATION

drinking sunshine
by the
gallon.

my
mocassins
on the
dashboard.

my soul
behind the wheel of
this car.

the sky
is the shade of blue
we used to crayon
it in
grade school. a crucifix
dangles
swaying in the
light breeze; it
hangs from my rear-
view mirror.

busy people
in busyness attire
lurk by my
unrolled window
but i am
too sunkissed
too punchdrunk
to give a damn
about
anyonething.

the piano
seeps through
my stereo.

idle,
and in love
with the holy day
i lower my seat
down
and lay careless
and unshowered
caressed
beneath god’s
amphitheater.

the clouds
are
tiny
individualistic
adventurous
lonely
happy
renegades

floating.

they mimick me.

i don’t think about
the smog on the
bumper-to-bumper
road.

i don’t think about
being twenty-four
next month.

and i definitely
don’t think about
the fact that i am
loitering
in the parking lot
of an evil
banking
corporation.

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO

READ “ROY G. BIV”

AUDIO READING ADDED TO “WHY I WRITE POETRY”

I just discovered SoundCloud, so there’s plenty more of these to come.

 

Read and HEAR the poem here.