WHISKEY MAN

you’ve got ash on your leather jacket
yellow in your grinded teeth
and a shit stain on your soul
you’re drunk again
and while you’re out parting knees
she stays in saying prayers
for you and your quickly fading cigarettes
you’ve never been the type
to step in line
even at easter service
you stay lazy-seated
while the body and blood get old
your dinner’s getting cold
and you are what you eat
but you
are not innocent, young, naive or sweet
you’re burning up, whiskey man
and no one will cry at your funeral
not even the miscarried children
you could have carried if you wanted to
but you’re too busy kicking rocks
too busy stealing complacency from plants
you drink in your water
while the desert streams run dry
the tumbleweeds are off to work with ties and briefcases
while you stumble in the wind
the sun warms your bride’s face
while you set happy homes on fire
you take what you desire
you are a whiskey man
the world will never forget you
disaster fables scars wrapped up in the butt of your
coffin nail
the world will never forget you

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AS SOON AS I LEARNED THE WORD “NIRVANA”, I VIOLENTLY SHOOK ANY CHANCE OF IT OUT OF ME

i noticed all of a sudden that my speedometer went up to 160 mph
i realized i was twenty-three years old and god what a disappointment it would be to wake enlightenment prematurely
i stopped setting alarm clocks
i tore calendars down from off my walls
the sugar tooth i had pulled from my mouth grew back
i was a haphazard caution sign child playing in the garden
i ran stoplights and came back to steal them when no one else was around
i shook hands with night exchanging with him business cards for a bottle of moonshine
i crammed stolen stereos into the trunk of my hot car heart
i hit baby seals with plastic bats and shaved off one of my eyebrows
i took power tools and removed the hinges on my bedroom door
i removed the glass between the people-animals and the zoo-animals
i shattered fragile dreams letting in the monsters of nightmares
i have something else to say
there are mirrors everywhere
and i have kickstarted my disappearing act with a fundraiser for demons when i should have been more useful in a coma
the edge is sharp
and it is not always in vanity that mothers teach us not to run with scissors
there are mirrors everywhere
books fold symmetrical over themselves
(closed casket funerals for pens that bleed to death)
there are mirrors everywhere
framing reflections on scars of stupidity that run from our eyes to our mouth
there are mirrors everywhere
in fun houses we smile open wallet smiles at a maze, a labyrinth, a fleeting moment of no identity but we leave our poetic fingerprints at every crime scene
and in every bathroom
on foggy whiskey glasses
and speeding tickets
the handles of weapons
the rope of guillotines
(we piss our names in the snow)
there are mirrors everywhere
we hate seeing ourselves on camera
vampires, lost boys
and i have kickstarted my disappearing act
can’t see my bloody reflection
i toast bad habits to breaking bad habits
wait. wait.
i regret
nothing.
do i?
i’m paving the path to enlightenment with hot coals.
but i want to die with blistered feet.
i meditate on rock and roll
god
i am so god damn american
i am starbucks hot tea
i am approaching nirvana in the disoriented footsteps of kurt cobain
the planned suicide of hunter s. thompson and i’m asking these mirrors
what is the opposite of nirvana?

what is the opposite of nirvana?

there are mirrors everywhere.

what is the opposite of nirvana?
what is the opposite of nirvana?
what is the opposite of nirvana?

(reckless poem implodes on its own structure)

 

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

I WANT TO PUT ON A RED AND BLUE COSTUME AND SWING FROM WEBS IN THE NEW YORK CITY NIGHT

to beat captain stacey to the scene of the crime to beat up the baddies looking for the one
who killed my uncle ben that unforgettable night in the gutters and the vengeance i’d carry
i want to weigh my decisions like a bus full of tourists in one arm and a little girl with pigtails
dangling from the other, i want to know what it’s like to see the world through eight eyes
i want to sense danger and chase danger and weave through the madness – a psychotic vigilante
to delve into science and to stop curt conners from becoming the very opposite of who he truly is
to kiss gwen stacey on the bleachers and to tuck her blonde blonde blonde hair behind her goofy
ears so that i can stare at her blue eyes sitting there above her unforgettable freckles and yeah
i want to climb walls like it was second nature and i want to jump from building to building in
the night light of a great american city, to create intricate webs to sustain the villains and at the end of this writhing monster of a glorious day i want to retire back to my childhood home where aunt may is waiting for me with a warm cup of cocoa and a heart the size of all of this around me

 

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

LOST DOG ROXIE

lost dog
roxie
answers to anything
red hair, kind eyes
extremely loyal
until she ran away

lost dog
roxie
reward: to be decided
white fur
wanted
dead or alive

lost dog
roxie
last seen near blue river
five years ago
still lost
still wanted

if found
please call
immediately
would give anything
to have her back

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012