Show poem… So you think you can dance/ Friday Dec. 4/ Des Moines, IA @ Vaudeville Mews  #Poetry 


 So you think you can dance

Slipping through
By slipping

The ice is our enemy
The ice is our friend

Mothers and daughters
Walking down stairs
Finding their seats
To the love

The end of the slide
The top of the trail
Early darkening days

Who put you there?
Who made it here.

Lifetimes of number crunching
And bible berthing
Sucker punching
Love of words
Distrust of
This joy

Now is your chance
A ghost will greet you
Rolling hug

There is no catch
We all lead different
And they are all
The same

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Show Poem… You define human strength / Oct. 17 Witch Bitch / miniBar/ KC, MO #Poetry


Untitled photo by Jason Buice

What a difference
A beautiful lampshade makes
An old feather duster
Drop of oil in a hot pan

A slave to your bodies
Unique tools

The last wishes
Of dying men

You define human strength
A mother of nature
Child to the future

There are riches never dreamed of
Gold in places long forgotten

Hair in the wind
We face it holding hands
Hairy hands holding the wind

The dick bone
of a dead white whale
Stirring the pot

The mead of green vegetables
The red broth stews inside
Like lava underground

From this pot
We will feed many

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There’s more people here Than you might think

There’s more people here
Than you might think 

Pay no attention to swings and poles 

What is the source of your drama
Cars splitting in two?
Born in the wrong body?
Dreams of decapitation?

Neverminding memories.
We must all sit down together
Over a breakfast of our broken eggs 

We share many things

Roasting over the rib pit
Our juices run together 

We must consider
For a moment
The bones we suck on 

When we run
our lungs grow stronger

We share the air
With many tiny things 

A white plague
A plague of pollen
A plague of flowers 

We let go of the

The guilt
For Beating our meat 

We drink in the smoke
Like wine
We dance with the fire
Like a true true

Show Poem: It’s hard when you hear everything… June 24 / Kent, OH /Stone Tavern #SchwervonPoetry


It’s hard when you
hear everything
It’s hard to know
where the fountain
Water goes

Dead child area
Feeding the lake
A tree falls in the woods
A random smoking hole
How to stay asleep all night

It’s hard to remember that
Life ain’t nothing
But a funny funny riddle

Worshiping at the
Church of the 16 vaginas
Home of the 10 dollar lap dance
Free chips and sangria

A stones throw from your heart

Flags on a car
Pizza underground
Gas is cheap here
Gas is cheap here
Gas is cheap here

Real fruit shakes
Ripe for the sippin
River of love
Burning witch nipples
Watching the ripples spreading
A natural current
A current of jelly
A vegetable jam

Beautiful birds and ugly songs.
Gas tank vinyl burns
Brian James Town Hash Tag Slur
Ugly birds and beautiful sings

I’ll talk to you lampshade
I’ll what makes you tick

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You might just make it after all.

You might just make it after all.

You just might make it after all.

You might make just after it all.

You all just might make it after.

You make it just after all might.

You after all just might make it.

You make might just after it all.

You just might all make it after.

You all might just make it after.

You after all might just make it.

Touching it doesn’t  Give you power… Saturday / January 10, 2015 #SchwervonPoetry

Taking a day off today. Two Schwervon! shows in two days. Here’s yesterdays second consecutive show poem.


Eyes on the wall
Shooting your mouth

Touching it doesn’t
Give you power
It feeds the fear

I know you want to touch it
But It messes up the painting
For everyone else

It took me years
To imagine myself as cool
Without a cigarette

Walking the stairs
Tasting the gun
Don’t worry
Forgetting the perfect lines
Are just  steps in the right direction

The movies aren’t Even close

The entertainment
Inside the thunderdome
Has a rating scale
All it’s own

Stop caring about all the lying
Everybody lies
They’re like leaves

It’s more important to not eat donuts

Truth or Dare is a game you
Play in Middle school

Is not boot camp for adulthood

Fucking well is only fifteen percent
of your happiness

Most of us live in blankets and sheets
On a cold day
We mistake them our wings

So cold, we can almost…

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