Archive for behavior patterns

20/30 Some Seconds

Posted in NaPoWriMo, Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on 04/28/2015 by spikedaeley

Nod at the kebab guy, past Batman pachinko
catch the 5:44, don’t sit, read “Born to Buy.”

Nod, that was my childhood. In between commercials
and politicians lying to me. Fuck you Tipper Gore,

and Nancy Reagan, your husbands were worse though.
I was afternoon kool-aid. Mom and dad usually not

home till after 5. Slept through most of adolescence
anyway. Lipton Brisk and day old donuts for breakfast

courtesy the Kubasaki Science Club and Coach Burns.
If I’d only done the math, could’ve learned about supply,

demand and marking-up for profit. Would’ve been better
at American. Still professional loud and entitled (maybe not

enough though.) College lungs were a smokestack. Those
were my unshowered, late to class, somebody else’s fault

days. (Maybe just enough.) Pulled over once, backwards
alphabet, sorry officered and white college-kidded my “boys

will be boys” straighline walk. Officers were kind enough
to escort me to my friend’s couch. Still had my Jim Morrison

wig on. Karaoke contest, the right person won. Wasn’t me.
Still won that night, clean driving record minus old speeding

tickets. That was 12 starlit years ago. Didn’t care about
anything. Completely invincible. Now, I stop into grocery

stores to wash my hands because I almost pet a stray cat
Quit smoking almost 2 and a half years ago. Radioheading

my own fitter happier. Going back to school in August,
Second Master’s (maybe enough plus plenty?) So this

is adulting. Must’ve tried the skin on out of context.
Some seconds, I’m still seeing the world for the first time.



13/30 Terminal Velocity (Lots of verses this year, can’t complain)

Posted in Hip hop, NaPoWriMo, Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on 04/19/2015 by spikedaeley

Terminal velocity be the policy

Uncle ‘Cid and Molly, no apologies

If you follow me, you’re bound to get incepted.

Riddle with the Sphinx, wild out, leave him headless.

“See you at the crossroads”

where the lost souls go to talk shit and politic

holes full of holes and their bottomless.

Gas bottle rag match solace kit,

one day less till apocalypse,

better hope your god doesn’t not exist

Can the dark and light mix?

Can our avatars put this sabotage behind us?

Can we kill the violence with some science and some kindness ?

Can you spare some canned goods with cash in a vice grip?

I don’t really think so.

I don’t think these people really seeing other people.

50 years ago they wanted segregated gene pools

some still do, unbelievable

“I don’t think it means what you think…” inconceivable

as Mankind’s planetary raping spree. Now we full tilt

cup overflowing still, built to spill, wool quilt

over windows to the soul and it’s

such a great joke to the folks that’s controlling shit

I wish they wood like Groot, 5D time loop, split infinity

post traumatic symphony of imagery

trade the ecstasy for the agony and misery

I’m sure your social media is far more interesting.


11/30 Magnificent Flaws (Really like this one. Not sure about the ending though)

Posted in NaPoWriMo, Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on 04/12/2015 by spikedaeley


Starlight naked, ready to hang glide my spirit
over canyons of panther’s teeth howling freefall.
Refusing to be swallowed in the unmarked grave
of a corporate smile, it’s time to bet life
on risk versus uncertainty.

Time to dive face first into my sixth sense anatomy.
To manuscript an alive language of “Succeed”
build rapture from mistakes, delight in awkward
and always save room for ice cream.

If “heal” is a wounded word and “present” means
deepbreathingsayyes I want to releasebreathe
until my heart expands into an ocean of here/now
kick myself off pedestals and sever earthly ties.

Grow upside down roots from my fingers into multi-verse possibles
Make dark matter love and fill the deep space with play in slow motion
I can do all of these things plus cartwheels with the right secret handshake

I’ve lost my keys on purpose
And am climbing in windows

Foregoing views from the afterglow with snifters of wince.
No longer wandering lost in a Mockery’s discarded library
So over withering to a vaporous scream.
Baptized in the sins of the father,
I’ve escaped scathed and scathed again.

My full moon armor is sometimes more chink
than impervious yet thusly cloaked
I’m the most confident stockholder
in my range of poor investments.

I am the consummate
Not Exactly What You’d Expected
The Breaker of Down in Inopportune Times
The accomplished Sleeper of Late
Expert Awkward Smile Deliverer
Midnight Eater of the Calorie Laden Smackerel

The Emperor of Accidental Offenses
The Unintentional Intimacy Killer
Armed with these magnificent flaws
I can only laugh

and laugh


and laugh.


They got them a syndrome fer everythang these days… (6/30 work in progress)

Posted in NaPoWriMo, Poetry with tags , , , , , on 04/07/2013 by spikedaeley

Too much scatter in my brain.  My room to room

energy manifests in the debris of the day. Crumpled

receipt next to the turntables, floss on the desk.

An orange lighter like a beacon reminding me I haven’t

finished that Demetri Martin book, and that it’s not

as funny as I’d expected.  The path between my

bedroom and kitchen reads like the attention span

of a drunk hummingbird.  My only alibi is my patterned


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