KC, MO 7/1/17 Davey’s Uptown Rambler’s Club #poetry


No longer feeling
The scabs on my knuckles
The boot in my ass
There is no place
For ordinary madness anymore.

No one is holding it in
All concerns are fully throated
Every scream is heard
Impressions are made
Therapudic methods employed
Numbers are up
Flaps down
Landing gear on
Women fully exploited

The distant cries of the ice cream man
Serve as the perfect score
To this revolution

Water, check
Glucosamine, check
Bluetooth, check
Candied pecans, check
Large accesssble quantities of quinoa,
Check

Who knew things could get so ugly
Who knew we could be so hated
Who knew that complaining could
Get us so much attention

Who knew someone could write a cool
Song with the word chillax in it?

Babies born and worlds ended
Over exploding knees.
Aaaleeeeve
Aaaaaleeve
I’d be a dead caveman without you.

Vacation From Nothingness

Deleting spam on my birthday

Just one week with out an explosion
I know we could get there
Call it a goal, a means to an end
Whatever it takes
Something tells me momentum
Is all we’re lacking

A furry hump
Two bags of old clothes
A weather App predicting the rain
We’re wrong all the time
Even in real time
Our constant adjustments
How could we keep track
Of all the poetry
Like saving every exhale in a jar
Never stops

I want to end things better
Want to see
The light when it occurs
Want is the romance
Of fighting children
Love is losing

Love is to forget

KC Antifolk Fest 5/7/17 Madrigal #poetry

Every day begins like a dog toy.
Scooping poop in the back yard

There are front yard people
And there are backyard people
We are backyard people

It’s all over when you’re
In love with crazy

Cut my tail, call me lazy

The daily grinding down
Of the unicorn horn

The earth, the stars and
the sky. Be it all.
I don’t mind.

Lean against the concrete steps
Warmed by the sun
Let the leaves and dirt
Mingle with the hair on your ass
Put your tongue on everything
Suck the ribs like
Strings on a harp

At home with little more than thoughts
I am a master at killing time
Counting the naked pictures on the wall
That one looks like an elephant
This one has a bagel for a penis
All the beautiful train wrecks
In the world
And this one is mine

These are the moments we remember
When it’s just us
Too tired to judge
To tired to hate
We embrace in the dark
Secretly, unconscious
In love

A Soft Impression

One makes a soft impression
In cookie dough 

Deep sinus morning
A slow rain in cold mud
Brains
Letting go of grammar
I feel things moving around inside

A wave of green papers
Milk filled leaves
Rolling and slipping
Distant voices of wiping out surfers
Hollering tips
Beyond the the sizzling foam

Floor toms and spring reverbs
Ass cracks and bumper stickers

The fruit sits on the the chopping block
A soft grey matter awaits
In a honeymoon bed
While the cookie cutter
Self grooms in the bathroom
Gargling and clipping nose hairs

Sticky numbers, spelling checkers
Lights out is the greatest
Footprints in the sand
When you stop looking
That’s where you find them

Spring Essence Poems 

Fertility breakfast
See the Robin red brest

Chopping up potatoes
Dropping seeds in deep holes

The rain opens the earth
Inhaling pain of birth

Wet spinach on the plate
Forgetting things I hate

Shuffling the papers
Blowing up the flowers

In a big country dreams
The roots dig at the seams

New green around the track
The trains aren’t looking back

Disguise hard to afford
Sunrise is your reward

Major Matt Mason USA Show Poem: March 11, 2017 KC, MO @ Records With Merrit #poetry 

Eddie Monster prom king

The sharpened talons of your pitchfork
Embody your three prong approach
Ready to pierce the perfect skin
Of Innocent young babes
Like a fork through a hot dog’s casing
Over a glowing bed of
Machine mined coals
Roasting on the back yard
Fourth of July
grill

Painfully Pounding out the power points
It is very clear you’d much rather be killing something right now
Decked out in the latest mossy oak couture
The best color corrected camouflage
That tax dollars can buy

Concocting rules with lit sparklers
Clocking the hours
Of repeated speech
In different shades of eye shadow
Poping on screen

You love your life
Because it sucks

While we slowly slip into
Our wet oatmeal mornings
Of long term care
And slow awakenings

You fantasize about us
Poking your muscles
Taking pictures
In the sand
That’s all it is to you now
One big sandbox
Where you lay upon the beach
Oiling your crossbow
And fucking a paper cut out of your life

But fear not
I hear distant seagull cries
Grow closer

You’ve taught us much about ourselves
I’ll give you that
But inside those sweet notes of
Fairness and love
That parents whisper to their children
And the darker exploits
Of the lonely and frail that
You use line your cage
I will never even fake pray for you

Broken Heart Syndrome Show Poem: January 29, 2017 KC, MO @ Holy Cow #poetry 

I’m forgiving you
With every new day
Forgetting you

While you climb the ladder
I’ll hold your legs
Reaching for cookies
Changing light bulbs
Painting walls
Dusting the top shelf

I’ll pound your chest like a drum
Until the last breath slips out

We’ll sharpen the blade together
Mow the lawn on a Sunday morning

We accept ourselves as immigrants
We control the space between us

To herd cats we must first
Learn to ride them

Touching fur to a glass
Skipping down the alter
Sardines and envelope filters
Remembering to bring a sweater
The comfort of static cling

One day we will all be
Caught dead in something