…but please, check out some of my recent stuff.
A BEAR IN TOKYO is a short story I wrote about a strange night I had recently.
AMERICAN HONEY I wrote back in 2012. It’s one of my favorite poems.
Have a great seventh of July, and if you can’t, have a fifth of whiskey. 😉
(midnight hype with ratatat.)
atrophy, apathy and the letters between lovers
disect your very core to try and find the blind
the walk of shame through the halls of college dorms
the parasail that treads too close to water
let’s unshelter the shelters, let’s unveil the mask of sanity
let the world see our naked scarred unshaven selves
we will sit elevated in a glass box above times square
and frozen in time we will move as fast as traffic
if life is a graph of time versus love versus change
what would happen if you crumpled up the sheet of paper
the equation was written on?
condense your density. make true your individual rhythm.
martyr your dark dark dark dark dark heart
and allow yourself to become as soft as soft symphony
cram your head full of knowledge then let it all go
binge and purge. create then destroy. love then let love.
you have a finite amount of infinite to give the infinite.
your hourglass figure can only be flipped so many times
requiem. become requiem. become undeniable. stand
on the pedestal that you have created
from cracks in the sidewalk you stepped on
when you break your mothers back consider the fact
that maybe you adjusted the lump in her spine
close your history books and listen to the eyes of auschwitz
the scars of pearl harbor, the radiation of hiroshima
take a shot of nagasaki and chase it with karoshi
we’re all melting like the wicked witch of the west
we are all bleeding like the eternal tsunami of the east
our stripy socks shrivel up beneath the house hovering over our heads
we rob peter to pay paul and then we use paul’s money
to take peter’s girl out for a night on the town
but she never calls because she’s in love with paul
and we ignore the fall, the mighty fall of the american empire
and the fire, it burns us all the same, we have only ourselves
and a thousand past lives left to blame, we’re so brash
do not ask what you can do for your country
once we see the fire it burns us all the same, we’re so brash
ash to ash, dust to dust, from first to last lashes
ashes to ashes
COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2013
READ 02.09, DAY 9 OF THE 28 DAY 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
it looks like it’s just me and the crickets tonight
the crowds poured in like flash floods
they shook, they rampaged, they rumbled the house
they spilt their drinks all over the tables
they danced on the wet tables
they kissed in my closets
they unhinged my doors and they set my clothes on fire
they blew out my speakers with their digital tribal anthems
they cursed the name of daylight
their hands reached out towards the night sky
the room filled with smoke
the intercourse of chattering, the music of heart
they filled the crevices and corners of my life
the kissing gourami wallflower star-crossed lovers
who wake up demons with bad breath and hangovers
they clawed at the walls, they clawed the ceilings
they hung their reservations from the ceiling fan
and watch as it shredded them to dust
like leftover confetti on the mardis gras ground
i slipped into my bed, slipped into my mind
as the world turns turbulent around me
as the clocks lost track of time
and the freezer began to fill with pairs of keys
the morning came like snow on january first
and the floor was littered with bodies in coma
slowly they dwindled, they faded, they disappeared
out into the long line of cars
out into the systematic revolution of deadlines
and bus schedules and inevitable responsibility
now you listen to me and what i have to say
until you too wander off out into delusional reality
and then, as it always end up,
it’s just me and the crickets tonight
COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2013
READ “WINDSTORM (A DREAM)”
Interesting in submitting to Flashlight City Blues?
lift up your spirits!
to this cataclysmic evening!
of howling wolves! and monkeys!
to the altered perspectives!
and their subjective
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
let’s get lost!
in the rambunctious sound
and remind our souls
is not just romance:
the flowers give us
and each one
we return to them!
that are dead
with lush green grass
to the smell of rain!
to the taste of laughter!
and ever after!
COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012
READ “SHOCK TOP”
i am sitting
reading a book of poetry by
i am drinking
a glass with ice in it, and
these; god must be truly