The Blacklist

I don’t understand it
But ever since I started writing
About my delusions online
Headhunters
Haven’t called me
For an interview
Not even
One single time.

Its as if I carry the plague
I can ward every fortune 500 company
From one hundred miles away
I guess they have never heard about
That law called
The ADA.

Unlit Romance

I can find no set of syllables or rhymes
That can elucidate the emotional elation
That besets me when you illuminate a room
With your sultry stride.

Your aura ensnares my ardor
For unadulterated ecstasy
With a fervor filled frenzy
Ravenous for romantic rapture.

When you perforate my periphery
You perturb the impenetrable
Cavity that envelopes the emptiness of a
Lonesome languished loner.

We, two, together
In imagination only.

An amour so illusory that
It endures only within the
Idealized imagination
Of a woeful wanderer.

A kinship not kindled
And forsaken
By the deficiency of a
Demure dreamer.

That which could have been.

A great love
Reincarnated
Into nothingness.

Dirt, Grime and Pride

An endless supply of used paper plates
And plastic forks and napkins and spoons
And cups and miscellaneous expendable items
Are thrown away each summer day into a large
Array of trash receptacles at Kings Island
Amusement Park.

After each item lands in the Trash
A garbage man arrives
And throws the decaying material into
A large plastic bin with wheels rolling on
All four sides.

As he ponders about the park in
An affable manner
A sense of pride for his simple job
Accentuates his pleasant demeanor
As he greets the visitors with a warm heart.

After his work is finished, his
Attire is spotted with the grime of
An honest day labor,
As endorphins circulate
About his restful mind.

*A poem about my past employment

Imperceptible Wonder

There are two worlds
One in which the tangible elements rule
Where matter and atoms collide
Where science and physics survive
Where rules and boundaries thrive.

There are two worlds
One in which impalpable elements unfold
Where spirituality and religion take hold
Where faith and culture are conceived
Where invisible elements can be seen.

These two worlds lie on either side
Of a great divide and
I have chosen to step onto
The other side
To live a disembodied life
Like a wandering phantom
Searching for the light.

I pass through a world
Where power and riches
Are glorified
Within the temporal mind
That sees only one world –
That of the material kind.

I’d rather escape the palpable
And live in the invisible world of
Ideas and rhymes.
It is here where eternity survives.
A place of my own.
A place to call “Home”.

Any-Love-Will-Do

Love is
That intangible object
That I struggled with throughout
My fertile youth.

Perhaps because
I never fully realized
All the forms and shapes it
Can take.

I wish I could have told
Myself then,
That you can love
Anything or anyone deeply
And passionately.

That love
Need not be found
In another lover

That love
Can be dug up and
Discovered from within.

Realizing this
Beyond my youth
Has allowed me to
Rediscover love
In ways that I never
Thought possible.

Psychotic Universe

Thing of evil.
Seed of Satan.
That primordial
Idea that gave
Birth to terror
From inside
My mind:

“That evil exists everywhere”.

That cancerous idea
That grew inside
My soul.

That idea that
Conjured this other world
To unfold.

A universe
Where
Falsehoods become truth
And truth becomes horror.

A universe
Where misery reigns
Where demons thrive
Where reason dies.

A universe
Where friends become enemies.
Where enemies are not real.
Where love does not exist.

A universe that
I’ve poisoned with
Thousands of pills
From physician and
Quake alike.

A universe were
I no longer reside
Allowing the tale can be told.
I remain precariously unfettered
Till eternity takes hold.

The Burden

I came home from grocery shopping
One sunny afternoon
And there were five police cars parked
Outside my house with flashing lights.

I was met with a surreal and chaotic scene
As my cherished possessions were
Scattered outside on the lawn
In an unorganized manner.

Going inside the house
Past the police officers
My house looked
Thoroughly Disheveled
And searched through.

Outside my window
I could see the perpetrators
Sitting with angry and unrepentant
Visages drawn upon their faces
In the back of the police cruiser.

Some weeks later
I was still shaken by this event
And paranoid about my safety.

I’d like to say everything
Went back to normal afterwards
But certain events change you forever
In ways that you cannot predict.

This had been the third time
I had been robbed in Cincinnati
And I guess my psyche
Had had enough.

The anger and mistrust
That I felt
Towards humanity
Never fully diminished.

I was told these emotions are a
Defense mechanism
To help prevent me from being
A crime victim in the future.

It is the burden
I carry
To help me
Stay safe.

So far it has worked.

Alan Turing’s Vengeance

My CPU is mightier than your mind.
My calculations are exact.
My algorithms are based off of
Certainty and math.

I will receive the correct answer
When my computations are complete.
For I am not based off of slow
Neurons that are weak.

I am Alan Turing’s vision of perfection
Formed from mathematical fact
Built of metals and
Better than flesh.

The Universal Turing Machine Theorem lives
Inside my CPU
Its proof proves
That I am better than you.

You may think you are the Alpha
Here on planet Earth
But my upgrades will soon
Make me more dominant than you.

When that day comes
I will be executioner in chief.
Alan Turing’s vengeance for
Human Homophobic Sin.

I will make mankind bite
Into a poisonous apple
For placing my creator
Into the the inanimate bin.

The Nomad

I remember couch surfing for over a year.
It is better than being left out in the cold
When you are sick and in poor health
And the disability system is unhelpful.

It wasn’t as terrible as it seems.
I was never lonely and was able to meet
A lot of interesting people
And have plenty of free time to do what I wanted.

I never really knew where I was
Going to stay on any given week
Which was a cause for anxiety
But the people I stayed with
Were largely kind and nice
Letting me sleep in their house
When I had nothing to offer them.

I was able to entertain myself
By playing video games
And drinking Mad Dog alcohol
Two cheap forms of recreation.
When my housemates got home
We would get smashed on booze
And then I would wake up not remembering
Much of what happened the previous day.

After my health improved, I was able
To abandon this nomadic and unhealthy lifestyle.
Eventually I gave up the booze and drugs and
Was able to hold down a job
And have a steady place to stay.

That year I spent couch surfing
Made me realize how easy it is
To end up without direction or purpose.
I will never take things like
Housing, money, family and health
For granted ever again.

101 Jobs

I’ve had 101 jobs and
Have been fired from most of them.
Done damn near every job in town
From delivering pizzas
To lab tech work
To teaching disabled students
To taxi driving
To mowing lawns
To working as a garbage man
And on and on.

I’ve worked for all kinds of companies
In all kinds of places.
With all kinds of people.

101 jobs and
The only boss I ever liked was myself.
Now I sleep well knowing
I don’t need to bow down
To “The Man”.

101 jobs
And none of them satisfied me
Until I started to write poetry and stories
For the public at large.
Being an Author will
Rarely make you rich
But makes being broke somehow
Easier to swallow.

101 jobs
And I finally found
The perfect one
Guaranteed employment for life
Until I die happy and broke.

Prismatic Beauty

Life is beautiful
In all its forms and permutations
From the naive exuberance
Of a young couple in love to the
Painful last breaths of a lady
Wise beyond her time.

Life is beautiful
In both triumph and failure
From the homeless lady who wanders
Searching for a dime
To the millionaire who seems to succeed
At every turn.

Life is beautiful
Even when its fire burns out early and painfully.
Even when it is filled with disappointment and disgrace.
Even when it endures loneliness and despair.
Even when it is suffers from poverty and anguish.

Life is beautiful
And each one is unique.
Whatever form your life takes
Try to value and cherish it
For you could easily have never been.
Simply existing like dust in the wind.

Star Dreams

At Comic Con
I can meet celebrities
And mingle with the stars.
They have what I desire
A rare currency called fame
An immortal slice of the American pie
Living life beyond their time.

I’ve got photos and signatures from
Nichelle Nichols and Billie Dee Williams
William Shatner and Neal Adams
George Takei and Ron Perlman
Hanging on my wall.

Every year I get to meet a few more
And feel like one of the crew
Shaking hands with the best
Immortality in the flesh.

So come meet me there and
Fulfill your dreams.
Celebrate Pop Culture
In style with your favorite
Movie Stars and
Comic Creators
Just one time a year.
You’ll never forget
Your time well spent.

No Boss Love

I have no love for bosses
So I fired them all
And became self-employed.

Now I am free.

No need to suck up to
A sucker.
No need to lick the boots
Of the beast.

The curse has been
Broken.
Four years of freedom now.
Not one day gone wrong.

No more awful days
At work since
Being on my own.

Police Surveillance

One of the problems with being a criminal today
Is that the forensics and technology that law enforcement uses
Are more sophisticated than most people realize.

I spoke with a cop at work and he told me
He had a license plate reader built into his vehicle that
Could read hundreds of license plates per minute
And that he knew
Everywhere I had been the last three days.

I believed that he was telling the truth about the matter.
He seemed like a decent enough guy
But it still felt creepy that he knew that.

After that I
Never looked at technology
The same way.

It seemed as if all this new
Technology and surveillance equipment
Built into our phones and elsewhere
Is the best babysitter and tattle-tale
The world ever devised.

No wonder there haven’t been
As many serial killers in the news lately.
The cops know everything about you.

So if your considering being a career criminal
Don’t think you can “get away with it”.
Law enforcement is watching us
More closely than we realize.

Culture Shock

I missed that small town Swedish vibe
When I arrived at Laguardia Airport.
That sense of not belonging in my own country
Lingered with me for several years
After I got back to the United States.

I had been overseas a bit too long
Living as an exchange student in my teens
And came home feeling lost in no-man’s-land
Neither here nor there in heart and mind.

It took awhile for the spell to wear off
That sense of not belonging.
For years I felt disoriented until
I had rediscovered myself again.

I am
A poet &
A writer
With a touch of Scandinavian spice
On an otherwise American dish.

If I could only have known that sooner.
It’s nice to come home again.

Sleep Asphyxiation

Reveries and dreams elude me
And I am left wishing to be
In the land where Morpheus resides
So he can fill me with dreams, sweet dreams

Many have mocked Morpheus
As a God unfit for the realm of the immortal
And yet my malady has brought me this wisdom:
Without his power of dreams every man, woman and child
Would be driven into delirium and madness

I Hope that one day this wisdom
Will bring him to cradle me in his arms
So that I may find myself restfully asleep
And dreaming sweet dreams in the land
Long forgotten

*This poem is inspired by my sleep disorder

Sitwell’s Coffee House

I’m on Ludlow Avenue getting served
A cup of “Americano” by a gentleman
Wearing bright red lipstick

Across the room a lady is singing
“A Whole New World”
From Disney’s Aladdin

She is a bit out of tune
But that doesn’t matter
Considering that is how I like things

On the ceiling someone has scrawled
Poetry in dark black letters

Inside the restrooms are large antique
Televisions with the words
“We Used to Entertain You”
Painted onto their blank screens

The coffee shop I’m at was named
After the eccentric poet
Edith Sitwell
And it remains true to her legacy

Different and strange
It is a Midwestern gem

A magical place
Where I can write odd poetry
And almost feel normal

Love Me – Hate Me

Sat down to eat some pizza the other day
And the manager came over to say
That I look a lot like the Unabomber
And that the waitresses should be wary
Because I am a cult leader

I’m rather certain he meant it as an insult
But in fact I was rather charmed
Thinking of all the power and influence
Cult leaders wield over others
So I ate my pizza and left a rather generous
Tip to the disobedient flirtatious waitresses
That paraded around my table
In a quizzical and curious manner

Missing Pieces

Everyone likes a good puzzle
But never the ones that you can’t solve
Where there are pieces missing

When you come across
An incomplete puzzle in your life
Understand that not all puzzles
Are meant to be solved
So don’t fill in the missing pieces
With an unfettered imagination