HER HEART IS A DRUMKIT

her heart is a drumkit
crash cymbal flash light
boom bap across the stage
that splays her arms
across forever dance stoned
caffeine fingers smoke rings
emanating to the consolation
of every single constellation

her heart is a drumkit
kick drum dig deep
into the well rock drop
ripples into persistent
persistent persistent
legs against legs
harmonic hopesong
lost in honesty

that’s where to be lost

her heart is a drumkit
rolling snare downhill
kissed to death to bed
to sleep to dream to love
again and over and again
punch to the heartgut
drumkit kickdrum
snare snare snare
legs against legs
bottom of the bot
bottom of the bot
bottom of the bottom
of the bottom of the
well rock deep
deep skip lost drum
kick drum beat drum
kick snare lost drum
drum lost in honesty
honestly lost in honest
we lost in honestly we
honor thee honestly
lost in honestly
that’s where to be lost

her heart
a drumkit
and we
lost in
hones
ty

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2016

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CAREFUL PATIENT MINDFUL

never have two strangers known each other so well
sitting side by side careful not to cross the crack in the cushions
but every random glance carried the weight of everything
everything there ever was between us and eventually my fingertips
abandoned their post in this armistice to commune with yours
interlaced and quiet they rested like lovers sharing a twin-sized bed
i and you we found ourselves stumbling right back to the page
that we had dogeared the shit out of

this poem is worth its weight in paper
but what comes with it is one thousand ounces of time
dropped from a dropper onto the paths we cross
not always together but never without the other one
and where we’ll end up i do not know but i do know
that these liquid ounces of time will form a mandala
careful patient and mindful that love isn’t this thing
that you take a bite out of and you’ve got it with you always

you’ve gotta keep chewing
through the sweet there is sour and seeds and
moments of pure confusion where you find yourself
in a half empty bed and the wind is too warm
and sleepless and bruised you wander through the halls
you sonder at the dreams you’ve had since you were a child

but if you keep chewing through that
then you’ve got it
you’ve got four lips two each smashed in passion
wandering the edge of another person
delicately traveling through the stories
that never come out in words

in this world you may never be without
there is always fireflies to be caught in jars
but when their bulbs burst like old cameras
when the stars disappear down the broken drain

there in the dark
careful patient and mindful
is love.

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2016

AMERICA

america
you pray like russian
roulette

you kiss like you’re trying
to commandeer our teeth

you smell like the little samples
0f perfume in skinny magazines

america
you’re pirating porn on the internet
wearing nothing but a stolen pair
of air jordans

america
you’re panting like a dog
do you ever put your tongue
back into your mouth?

america
your gums are bleeding
from brushing your teeth too hard

do you ever do anything
with grace?

it’s always 75 miles per hour
drunk on jack
jacked up on red bull
listening to two metal albums
on your cell phone
while playing candy crush
in seven o clock rush hour traffic
because life is too short
not to do
exactly what is most important to you
in that exact moment

america
you may listen to podcasts
on new age philosophy
be here now
live in the moment
but you always fast-forward
to the good parts

you always cut away the meat
of your steak
and sit back and chew on the fat

america
you’re so good at interrupting
the people you ask
to speak on your show

america
you borrowed from me
whenever i tell you you say you didn’t
but you did
and i want it back

america
you invented advertising
and marketing
and coffee and beer
and whiskey and electricity
and freedom and democracy
well
at least that’s what you tell everyone

america
you pretend to be attention deficit
but the truth is you are consciously choosing
not to listen

plus you can get great turnaround
selling addy to high school kids

america
were you ever great?
will you ever be great?
hyperbole is a french word
but its nine-hundred percent american

i once thought i saw you
through the brush of trees
that line flathead lake
there i know i saw you
this grand estranged deer
wide eyed and still
your black eye gazed back at me
full of one-thousand yard stare
post traumatic stress disorder
you looked at me
like you just discovered
the human concept of time
0r math
or internet-streamed television service

i picked up my AR-15
and i pointed right at you
as you bolted
deep into the thick trees of bigotry

i swear i saw you

the one that got away

a hologram of a dream
of an invention

a colossal invention

there in the hand of every american
there in the heart of those who believe

not a device to help you
a device that is you

america
are you recording this call?

america
why do i have to press one for english?

america
why is my seat so small and inconvenient
in this giant bullet
that flies through the sky?

america
you’re pronouncing
“patronizing” wrong

america
i asked for no special sauce
my daughter is allergic
i can’t believe this
what are you going to do
for me?

america
what are you going to do
for me?

america
why aren’t you the country
we talk so fiercely about you being?
we spent so much time so far
talking so fiercely
about what you could be?

america
tie your shoes

america
get a job

america
love your neighbor

america
i’m not going to pay for your webcam
i don’t care h0w handsome you tell me i
am

america
if you say a word too many times
it starts to sound funny
it starts to stick to the roof of your mouth
like jiffy (c) peanut butter
america

america

america

america
when will the illuminati
reveal themselves?
was 9/11 an inside
job?
when will those walmarts
be turned into internment camps?

america
you manufacture paranoia
shelf after shelf
aisle after aisle
section after section
department after department
store after store after region
after enterprise

america
take my tickets
i brought my swimsuit
i want to ride the preschool to prison
pipeline

plea bargain my politics

mass incarcerate my poems

america
you can’t fall asleep sober
if you even fall asleep at all
you keep counting sheep
like you’re tallying days
on a prison cell

your eyes are automatic doors
that slam shut behind us all

america
your bloodsteam is refugees
you’re just too intoxicated to see it

you’re so busy building walls
you forgot to put in a door

you’re so busy campaigning for president
you’ve got not time for your family

you’re the kind of ugly
that happens over the course of a lifetime

you
america
are a pyramid scheme

you
america
beg for food
while you choke to death
on your thick privilege

you
are the one
who was born so late
to sing the world to sleep

america
you pray like russian roulette
to a god who can’t hear you
over the sound
of your own
gunshots

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2016

THERE IS ENOUGH BLOOD INSIDE OF ME TO DROWN OUT CALIFORNIA AND ALL ITS BASTARD FRIENDS

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there is enough blood inside of me to drown out california and all of its bastard friends
there is enough fuel to get me to the sun
to be more – to be rampant fist pushed through ozone into cosmonautical nonsense and i refuse to let die
to let die this ice cream fever this lock jaw obsession with standing in awe at how little we move
move god dammit move! don’t just stand there! load the turrets of your eggshell hearts!
pluck ink and poison from the dead! take a deep breath of stillness and aim your arrow. straight for. the neck.

i can feel it writhing in my gut. oceans of bile and acid splashing down the soft pink walls.
great waves of blood sweat morphine piss bad milk spit shine tequila nightmare tear drops
i can feel it rising. the lightning in the tide, the turning of the screw. the monstrous fear that hides in silent eyes comes creeping up to heaven when hell finds an all time low

do not mistake my kindness for weakness
my non-violence for violence
my heartdrum for percussion – it is not
it is the rattling chamber of a semi-automatic death
reborn in the caverns of my tonsils

do not mistake poetry for inaction

there is enough blood inside of me to drown out california and all of its bastard friends
the wallflowers burst forth in militant rows and canvas with red paint
they bury the empty skulls of the past in the backyard of america
they dine on the marrow in the bone

we speak not like we’ve never opened our mouths
but moreso like a snake in the grass
that has been waiting
one million millenia
for her chance
to strike

ART AND POETRY COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2015

SITTING IN YOUR DARK LIVING ROOM, WHILE YOU BLOWDRY YOUR HAIR

and i don’t know how long these things take
but i am quickly learning
across the room
you are wearing a beautiful, flowy dress
like always
your hand is on your hip
as your other hand grips the dryer
as hot wind blows
through your manic hair
the chairs in the living room
aren’t saying anything
the television
is completely off
you ask me
if i want a book to read or something
but i couldn’t be happier
than sitting in your dark living room
while you blowdry your hair

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

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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

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.