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Previously published in Caffeine:

Caffeine is a Los Angeles based magazine published semi-monthly (in theory) by Hot Water Press, and distributed nationally by Tower and Barnes and Noble. They were the first to publish my work and the following poems appeared in 4 different issues. (Some of the following will also appear in the Caffeine Magazine anthology called Scream When You Burn being published by Incommunicado Press.) Caffeine can be reached at PoetryMag@aol.com

Ants

Today at lunch I was God.
The hungry masses gathered around me.
I rained bread from their sky.
It was French bread
No Manna from this deity
I am a gourmet God
The crumbs of my lunch fed thousands
They were brought as offerings to their queen
They sculpted busts of me out of the larger pieces
They constructed temples in my honor out of hollowed out crusts
I was only there for a half hour
I won't return tomorrow
I may never
I will become part of their mythology
Holy wars will be fought in my name
Not that they know my name
They will call me food
And someday, they will eat me.

No Fish Blues

I won a green rubber snake at a carnival
But it was an empty victory
As the snake was just a consolation prize
And thus a symbol
of my inability to win a goldfish

Blender Observation

That's one fuck of a blender
I comment as you stir-fry the tomatoes
solid metal base
one button
on and off.
It's such a fuck of a blender
you don't need multiple speeds.
You don't even need other appliances,
Stoves
electric can openers
Microwaves,
Not with that blender,
It's the blender for people who take their blending very seriously.
The kind of blender your grandmother started to use when she was 5.
That's one fuck of a blender.

Beeper

I got a beeper and I put it on vibrate mode
and I strapped it to my penis
and I don't need women anymore
But I do need you to give me a call
because I am permanently attached
to the information super vibrating highway

The Lone Mosher
(also appeared in the Los Angeles Times)

The Lone Mosher
No-one to bump into
Moves around
alone

The Lone Mosher
venting his frustrations
beats himself up

The Lone mosher
is bleeding
self inflicted mosh wounds
Someone should get him some blow up mosher dolls to mosh with

The Lone Mosher
Proves his manliness
to himself

T-Hair

I want there to be a hair shop
where you could get a mohawk
because all they do is mohawks
even if you say "Just a little off the top and clean up the ends"
They wouldn't listen to you
and you'd walk out of there with a mohawk
and you couldn't do a thing about it
because the shop is called "Mohawk Hair Shop"
and you've signed a disclaimer
that gives them the legal right to make a mohawk out of your hair
And there's a sign on the wall that clearly states "ALL WE DO IS MOHAWKS"
and there's really fine print that says
"except on Thursdays when we do reverse mohawks and charge double."

Untitled

This poem is called Jesus had a penis and all Christians are maniacs
This poem is called Moses had a penis and all Jews are maniacs
This poem is called Mohammed had a penis and all Moslems are maniacs
This poem is called Buddha had a penis but his tummy was sexier
This poem is called Confucius had a penis Confucius say
This poem is called I am sodomized by satan every single night
This poem is called all pagan witches have penises and they brew them up in a cauldron to make pagan witch penis stew
This poem is called Darwin was right and I saw his penis in a museum
This poem is called Richard Nixon had a penis and so did Checkers
This poem is untitled because there are far too many penises in the world

Previously published in Blue Satellite:

Blue Satellite is a semi-annually published literary journal published by Sacred Beverage Press and edited by Los Angeles poets Matthew Niblock and Amélie Frank. They can be reached at Sacredbev@aol.com.

Five Dollar Sunglasses and Venice Pizza

Venice Beach
Walking along the boardwalk
Roller Skating Guitar Man sings for me.
I say "Didn't you open for Jane's Addiction once?"
He doesn't answer
Sings on.
When finished he says "You gotta buy one of my CD's man."
I tell him I only have enough for five dollar sunglasses
and a slice of Venice Pizza
He tells me I will amass wealth.
I tell him I will come back when I do.

I find the sunglasses booth
The one I always go to.
They have the sunglasses I want.
I pick them up and hand the man five dollars.
No words are exchanged
Just money and sunglasses
I knew they would be five dollars.
He knew enough not to ask for more.
I was obviously an experienced Venice Beach Sunglasses buyer.

A trip to Venice is not complete without a slice of Venice Pizza.
It's not good pizza.
It's not cheap pizza.
It's Venice Pizza, and it must be eaten
Or your trip to Venice is invalidated
As if it never happened.

I continue walking
New five dollar glasses on face
Slice of Venice Pizza in hand.
Man shouts at me
"Hey Pizza Boy! My Dick is harder than Superman's Elbow!"
I tell him that my butt cheeks are like Kryptonite.
He backs off
I have earned his respect.

I finish the Pizza
Drive home
It is chilly on the boardwalk today.

53 Guts

Realizing I had no guts I went down to the guts store to buy me some.
I figured I better get me some guts lickety split.
So I spoke with the sales associate at the guts store
And she asked me what kind of guts I wanted
And I asked her what kind of guts did they have
And she said they had all kinds of guts
but they specialized in gizzards.
I told her that I would take 53 gizzards,
And she wrapped 'em up
And I used my Visa
And now I've got guts.
53 Guts.

Self Polarization

Breasts attract me
like round magnets to my steel head
They polarize me
Make me want to stick
I am like Woolly Willy, Magnetic Dust Face Man
My Beard rearranges in their presence

Unexpected Lips

Your unexpected lips
that night in the rain
felt good against mine.
If I'd known they were coming
I'd have baked a cake

Coffee Is Not a Drink For Pussies

Coffee is not a drink for pussies
It's a serious beverage commitment
Dark
Dirty
Bad for your teeth
Bad for your brain

Coffee is not a drink for pussies
one drop
will stain your shirt
Forever

Coffee is not a drink for pussies
I'm sure it causes cancer
Leprosy
Male pattern baldness
Female pattern baldness
Premature ejaculation
Under-cooked omelettes

Coffee is not a drink for pussies
It is hot like the Equator
Bitter like four year old milk
Black like Nigeria
When you drink coffee
It's like you're drinking Nigeria

Coffee is not a drink for pussies
Don't talk to me about Lattes
Mother Fucker

Previously published in 51% :

51% is a semi-annual journal of poetry written about (and often by) 51% of the population...women. It's published by Dead Roses Press and edited by Michelle Ben-Hur who can be reached at ctwmn@aol.com.

The Journey of the Sperm

The journey of the sperm is a treacherous one, indeed.
During ejaculation
Millions of sperm are shot into the vaginal cavity
much like reverse bungee jumping.
Many of these sperm are so excited
they die trying to fertilize the first round object they encounter.
This parallels the behavior of some men.
Continuing on their journey
many sperm choose the wrong fork on the fallopian tube road
ending up dead
in an eggless sperm graveyard.
This could be avoided
if the sperm would stop and ask for directions.
This parallels the behavior of some men.
Of course there are no signs posted
pointing the sperm in the correct direction,
leaving them confused about the appropriate action to take.
This parallels the behavior of some women, and men,
and provides us special insights
as to the nature of human relationships.

Revenge
(originally appeared in the chapbook Paris: It's The Cheese )

When she packed her bags
and left me alone, in Paris
She forgot her scarf in the hotel room.
I stuck one end of it in my ass
and masturbated into the other
put it in a package
addressed to BITCH.
Lesson learned:
The sweetest revenge
is an orgasm sent C.O.D.

Previously published in You'll Wonder How You Ever Got Along Without It :

You'll Ever Wonder How You Got Along Without It is a companion chapbook to the Valley Contemporary Poetry reading series which has been running successfully in the San Fernando Valley of Los Angeles for thirteen years. It is edited by one of the V.C.P. directors, Nicole Harvey. The V.C.P. can be reached at (818) 986-7034.

I Want To Fuck Art

I want to Fuck Art.
I want Mona Lisa to give me head.
OH! I'd Make Her Smile! Yes Indeed.
I want to lie naked in the Haystacks
With the Waterlillies raining down upon my body.

Furthermore, I want my jiism to be regarded as an impressionistic painting.
It will hang on the walls of every major museum,
And be the highlight of several private collections.
Each jiism
Splattered on a canvas
With a date
and the name of the person it was meant for,
Or just the label
ALONE.

I want to Fuck Art,
And by god by tomorrow I'll be at the Venus de Milo
With a condom and a chisel.
I'll have my own collection of marble breasts
to do with as I please.
Night after night,
Stone tits,
Always firm,
No bra required.

My pallette is foreplay,
My painting is intercourse,
And what YOU see is orgasm.

I want to Fuck Art,
For Fucking Art's sake.

God bless America.

You

You are art incarnate
A living canvas with lungs and legs
Primary colors
mixed with natural tones
A landscape to behold
Three dimensional
Excellent use of perspective
I want to see you again
Make you part of my permanent collection
Allow occasional private showings
Maybe make a coffee table book
You are art incarnate
It's almost as if Monet brought you here
and left you on my couch