Archive for May, 2015

fuckin’ around


30 May

—————-

——-

joke from the smallest room I rent

 

nah homey,

I got a pimple on my ass

thus

too self-conscious

to perform

at your fucking open mic

but once you plunk down for that

shit

I see

failed popstars pimping on tv

then I might just dig out

some poetry for you

until then though

it’s like,

nah homey

—————

syzygy


25 May

————

———–

just lying about breakfast

 

I like scrabble

I like sex

I like scotch (although when I can’t afford it I go Kentucky)

the latter discussed benefits from being a necessity

I drink

because I want to believe in something fated

that money is illusory

an irrational concept only worthwhile as a brief intermediary of heat

yet cardboard still works better in an empty drum

the timber my bouncy Brooklyn gentrifiers gather works better yet

anyway,

I’m drinking bourbon now, it’s true

not written as some delusory device

this isn’t ‘hard man’-tragipoeticism

just ponderance on paper, the attempted penetrance of a literary amoeba

I’m drinking bourbon

watching some Philip Seymour Hoffman pictures I’ve had on an illegal streaming queue

that I’ve been meaning to catch up on

since he died

and I’m thinking

that I need this drink

to keep believing

something fateful blah blah blah

art will save the world

the banks will crumble

like the ancient temple

and I’ll break the glass for it

and just because

and I’ll stare into her eyes

and she’ll know that she’s with a man

that treated his work like a landscape

a supposed hill in Calvary

fiction, fiction, it exists, and let it save the world

the only sin is empty hands

and I drink

and watch this movie

the acting is superb

and I pretend that I’m not just a damaged alcoholic

with some depressive leanings

and various psychological derangements, pretty in asymmetry

who is a tad too prideful

and far too averse of giving up his stubbornness

we play in the realm of immortality

strive to; checkers, backgammon, childish things

they bought the boards though and that’s the problem

but I drink and I pretend

and I need

you more so now, but also my distractions

this bourbon strokes out a few more weeks

I’m getting tired and unsure, a glass needs filling

I need the renewed feeling of being right

all this is true

a grapefruit for the morning

myself, the missing

I walk into the ashtray looking for something, someone there to smoke

and I see her eyes

their feral burning

and the glass breaking

and I get a hint of fatefulness

it smells like booze and empty sheets

the glass is breaking in my head

a grapefruit for the morning

get it ready

and another drink

the pause button doesn’t work

there is no death

and I am smiling

———-

Washington Sq. Park Poetry Project


21 May

—————

Washington Sq. Park PP06

—————

the madness of men


18 May

————–

REST IN PEACE, CHINX

————–

ripcord

 

me and D.B. Cooper used to be close friends

I was the one that always told him

‘Dan, you just got to be polite’

told him that

just like the rest of us

he’ll never get to Mexico

if he romanticizes it too much

it’s the same with everything

take last week for instance

I slept with a young lady

who looked exactly like the one I loved the most

back when we first met

she had just turned a mean nineteen

my alcoholism had just turned legal

this was years ago, of course

we fell in love as these stories often go

but it wasn’t the same this time around

history cannot be mended

refitted or reimagined

the new one opened her mouth

took off her dress

and nothing seemed familiar

just a distasteful attempt at connecting

to something that time corroded long ago

you can no longer find the past inside the present

we’ve stepped out of fiction and are now forced to live in this

so just like I told Dan

simply be polite

keep your shades on when her eyes attempt to keep you

and parachute out any time you see a storm approaching

————–

climb. keep climbing


16 May

———————–

———————–

let it go. no hurry

 

my
life
is
like
a
wife
I didn’t want to marry

 

I met Dali in the library last week
———————————————-and
————————————–tweaked
————————————————his
———————————-moustache
———————————————-just
————————————————-a
———————————————–bit

 

we all have to
————————-laugh
————————————it
—————————————-off
the spider’s already on the wall
—————————————————leave
————————————————————-him
——————————————————————–be

———————–

Tomorrow Evening (Brooklyn)


14 May

—————

Borough Hall Poetry Open Mic——————–

a curving thought


09 May

————-

 

—————

monotony

 

they say that men are meant to ossify

while women are meant to melt

I’m just waiting for my invitation for coffee in the Andromeda galaxy

curious to see what it feels like to be sucked into the center

 

smile

you’re already dreaming

this is a dream (pearls tap-dancing across the wooden floor)

you are asleep

soon your peers will discuss it

 

there’s maybe another ten years, tense

in taking a break from drinking

a few days

lift a few weights, stare at the sun

delight when you think how they say

you can’t see stars from this balcony

 

polluted, I take a sip of water from my bedside glass

new training (sweat turns charcoal on the sheet)

pair a couple of words together

sleep, smile

you’re already dreaming

————

Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings


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