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”

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GALACTIC BISCOTTI

"The Exploding Head of Don Quichotte" by Salvador Dali

“The Exploding Head of Don Quichotte” by Salvador Dali

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

i am sleepless and doped up on cough syrup and listening to boards of canada
i am still flip flopping between being a cowboy and a buddhist monk
but really i am flip flopping between being alive and being dead
between being a nice outstanding young man who is a good samaritan
a real back breaker, a real gem to society and then i’m being
a ghost haunting this town home, pacing through the halls flicking the lights on and off
working on my lurking skills because my lurking skills need work
writing poems about writing poems about writing poems
and sending them to christopher nolan and letting him know it will be the biggest thing
since inception

i dream within this dream within this dream
i moved around a lot as a kid and part of me thinks
that i really never stopped moving
but really and i mean really really
is it possible to stand still?

we are agents of chaos
we are geriatric children

i dream within this dream within this dream
and i pay mind to the beautiful eyes and i stop to unwind beside them
and i tell them i love them that i want them or need them and sometimes
they nod their heads and agree with me and sometimes the joy fades from their pupils
and i move on

i do not stay where i am not welcomed
i do not stay where love is finite
because my love is infinite like a giant bottle of shaken up soda
exploding across the cosmos

my love is john muir beneath a redwood tree
my love is going back in time to sylvia plath
to try and talk her down while she is preheating the oven

i dream within this dream within this dream
and i use to be afraid but i am afraid no more
fear is stupid
anger is stupid
and stupidity is just the way you feel
when nobody told you
what you now know
now that somebody took the time to tell you

i dream within this dream within this dream
and i live for this day and the one before it
and the one after it as i sit around with these
out-of-order days at the apogee space cafe together
drinking cosmic lattes and interstellar macchiatos
as we share a galactic biscotti

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2014

READ “COUGH SYRUP HAIKU #3″

JUNE 10TH, 2014

all i needed was four days off
in a row i guess
that, and the proceeding 25
years before it
moved my parents like chess pieces
to their new home
took the contents of my tea kettle skull
and poured it off the side of a cliff

a Kerouacian hallelujah chorus

a substantial amount of this pressure
i’m finding
was self-imposed
went to the doctor
bloodwork came back fine
urine sample came back fine
doctor told me to take a chill pill
and eat less
and move more
(in a nice doctory way though)

i’ve been listening
and so far i’ve been happy and exhausted

i’ve been feeling romantic
like drive all night to find my love
and she’s been driving all night
and our cars break down
in some diner in Baltimore
and we see each other and
boom
romantic

i’ve been ingesting
a fair amount of alone time
(which means
listening to Radiohead
in my room
and the occasional coming-to-Jesus
talk in those showers
where you sit on the floor
and let the water hit your face
and time doesn’t exist)

time is the most mystical
chocolate chip cookie
ever baked

(don’t read too much
into that last sentence)

june 10th, 2014
got rained on
during my hike today
it was strange
i didn’t feel like i was
in the right place in time
until it started raining
but then it did

it was as if
i was in search for an
original experience
but i felt like one of the
good ole littleton natives
until it rained
watching the fanny pack families
run down the mountain
in their t-shirts
that will end up in thrift stores
“i was in colorado” shirts
“i like to travel” shirts
but they ran
and i kept walking
despite the thunder and lightning
and i said to myself
“this isn’t how i die,”
like Edward Bloom in Big Fish
and i was right
so call me crazy
but i pushed through the rain
and now i have this story
on the back of a receipt
in my back pocket

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2014

READ “THIS HOUSE IS EMPTY.”

POEM FOR A LOVER IN MY FUTURE

when i lay
my head down
against your
bare stomach
i can hear
worlds turning
within you.

the way
shells contain
oceans
distant and quiet
is the same way
that you
provide for me
free radio
free justification
of every life decision
that has led me
and more specifically
my ear
to lean
against your stomach
like we are
pieces of fruit
in a still life painting
as the art museum
burns down around us.

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2014

CALL FOR BLOGGERS

Hi Everyone:

First off, thank you all so much for your support of 02.2013. In my opinion, it was a great success. It was very interesting forcing myself to write something each day, and doing something I really like to, which is trying to widen the spectrum of my poems as much as possible.

Now, I’m beginning work on a new project, which I’m going to give a working title of ANT Magazine, until I have an official title.

I am looking for motivated to people to work for this blog and I am looking for a wide variety of things.

I have decided to drive this blog/ online magazine from the idea that bloggers can post what they want/ when they want. I want my bloggers to have the freedom to do as they please, because I want them to have fun, and in turn, for the blog to be fun. Thus far, I have a couple poets signed on, photographers, artists, and even a pair of guys who are going to write about bad b-movies. Here’s some ideas of what else I’d be looking for.

  • Reviewers (Music, Movies, Book, Calendars, Gyms, Restaurants, Starbucks locations, I don’t care)
  • Artists (I don’t care if you make GIFs,or intricate water paintings or digital art, I could be looking for what you have. I’d really even like to have a talented doodler.)
  • Alt Lit People (If you don’t know what alt lit is, this one doesn’t apply to you. If you do, I want your poetry, I want your memes, I want your short stories.)
  • Film (I am really looking for good youtubers to post videos to the site. Once again, open-minded to what you got. I would love some funny videos.)
  • Photographers (I would love photographers whose pieces stand alone and I would also love photographers who if I said “take me pictures related to “night” or “fourth of July” could deliver them in about a week. Experience does not matter. Talent and motivation do.
  • I would really like to have someone to write on feminism on the blog, as this is a topic that is very important to me.
  • Anything else. If you hula hoop, and want to post instructional hula hoop videos, I’d like you to apply. If you sing and play guitar, send me your videos. If you are a badass list maker or nutritionist or tech geek, I’d like you to apply.

IMPORTANT NOTE! You do not have to be American. I want this blog to have a global community and other cultures and countries are not only requested to apply, but I insist they do. I do have to ask that you can write English though. I’m sorry.

Most of all, I want people sharing their passions. I’m trying to make a community out of this. I want my bloggers interacting with our readers. I want people to have a reason to come back, and I want this to be a blog about sharing with the world, not making money. (haha… blogs making money.)

If you are interested, please send me something about yourself and an example of what you have to offer to bricemaiurro@gmail.com.

I hope everyone interested will apply.

Thank you,

Brice

02.15

02.15

(puppy love.)

i remember standing beside you at the edge of the world
hand in hand you turned to me and said we should jump
i said i’m not one for suicide and you said it’s not suicide
it’s romantic.

you thought there was nothing more romantic than two lovers
choosing when and where and why and how they want to die

i was never afraid of heights nor commitment
but looking down on the jagged rocks below
the bubbling water crashing and the face of death
i realized in that moment i was afraid of both

and to think this was what i loved most about you
the way you dragged me through chaos
like a hand pulling me through a packed concert
to the front of the stage
where the music was so loud our ears bled
and the lights were so bright we went blind
but we were content to feel the vibrations
and our hands touching the feet of gods
you took your shirt off and threw it at them
standing there in your leopard-print bra i remembered
that you were never one to take anything seriously
your best and worst quality

one of those times you pulled too hard
and my arm came out of its socket
you dragged it around for hours
before you thought to look behind you
to see i was gone and i wasn’t just gone
i was walking in the opposite direction

it’s not addiction
how do you explain it?
you do something
and you do it
and you keep doing it
until it stops being fun
but with addiction you escape
with this
i just walked away
there were no withdrawal symptoms
like a cold haze
like that scene in Fargo
where everything is just white

i erased it all
the scratches on my back healed
i was no martyr
and you were no angel
we were just young and reckless
and in love
stupid love
puppy love
the kind that needs constant attention
and pisses on the floor when you’re not paying attention
and we left the door open
maybe intentionally
and it ran away

surprise, surprise

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2013

READ 02.16, THE NEXT ENTRY IN THE 02.2013 PROJECT

02.2013 is a twenty-eight day project chronicling my february of 2013 through poetry. to read the entries from the beginning CLICK HERE

LOVE AND ITS FAMOUS IMITATIONS

LOVE AND ITS FAMOUS IMITATIONS.

Here’s one of my favorite love poems I’ve written. Give it a read. Happy Valentine’s Day.