Force of July

Got something to slather you

something to do with words born in Texas midnight raw where we crawled through an Amerikan night wilderness leading us astray on a journey into inner space dreamtime

this is the infinite void

worked into nothingness

the totality of everything that ever was


everything else in-between

you mention HER

I picture pastel mongoloid cookie-cutter houses in the suburbs

sheer picture-perfect success with rage driven automaton cruel and bizarre transpiring going on

silk blown ooze encrusted skin shackled to the wall atop a mattress with an Amerikan flag draped over it

and you wonder why I don’t bother with patriotic capitalistic dreams fueled by Ayn Rand and a blonde-haired blue-eyed AR-15 pumping Jesus

I’m not from Texas

but I like to go there

born and dwelling in West Michigan

Bible Belt of the North

which is anything but godly

a crusade of artificiality

ready to tear this false paradise asunder

taking names

screaming in the wild

true independence

for this holiday feast

Love’s End

It could’ve been fate

star crossed moon harassing Saturn

a cascading series of death and rebirth

your apartment was like a second home to me

when you told me how we met two decades ago

I had forgotten

yet you remembered what I wore, how I abruptly left after your joke

“Mike Zone, you must really get around…”

yeah, I had no sense of humor back then as you wrote in a journal

I’m going to marry this man

damn poets

when being brutalized a decade later

full of god knows what chemicals

being recorded

you recalled me and a page from a torn notebook

only to conceive a lifeform together ten years later

hopes were gathered

you mentioned the names Aron and Thea

then demanded money to eradicate it

using the fact that I left another woman for you

deeming it “betrayal”

damn poets

you may ignore me now

but when the next bastard comes-

and he will be a bastard

I will no longer be there

to pick up the pieces

for anyone

damn poets

this is how love ends

Corporate Knife Fight

When you accept a promotion, you don’t want

triple production

build a department from the ground up, only to be hindered at very pivotal unnecessary turns in the process

sometimes it’s limited access to technology

or some power hungry narcissistic high school kid that never grew up

maybe you found hair in some concentrate and shatter

perhaps it was the mold growing on the medical grade wax

or the fact you couldn’t inventory something because someone didn’t put the name in the system and didn’t want you to even though you could

then there was your boss’ boss

the one who flew in on a private jet

who rode his motorcycle in

looking like a sons of anarchy reject

covered in almost cartoonishly satirical tough guy tattoos

yet not man enough to confront you

he yells at your boss

who yells at you

in front of everyone

“Face the wall! Eyes down on the scale! No talking!”

that’s when you turn evidence into the state

comply with everything for about a week

then jot an email

to your boss’s boss

director of east coast operations


taking your whole crew with you

New Season

The long hot summer careens by through a furious breeze whipping up the sands of time

reflections and ravages

crash test dummy drivers and passengers slamming into walls

falling off cliffs into stagnant infernos

five years it takes to fully accept the death of the woman who bore you

let’s trade that acceptance for the death of pending offspring and forsaken love

oh, wait my best friend just bludgeoned a five-year-old girl to death with a hairbrush

it’s not Hitchcock

but it’s real

years before he stopped me from putting a noose around my neck

laughed as I showed him the nail

and showcased a stretched-out rope


did I just switch this narrative?

past tense? present tense? future tense?

first person? second person?

how about just tense?

my mind is a bullet train speeding through the force of it all letting discarded realms of time’s past burn

that sand is ash

it blows away into the negation of wasteland blues

I’ve learned to move in a desolate harmonious eternity that maybe more copper than gold

at moment


Maybe, I’ll slip razorblades underneath my skin

dig them out after a bit of healing

with a webcam on beforehand

live broadcast

is this poetry?

I’ll ask

is it?