[POEM] “tarot reading” – featured in Horror Sleaze Trash

Horror Sleaze Trash

tarot reading

She was sucking
on a red lollipop
quite loudly
and would constantly
take it out of her mouth
to stir her whiskey with it

She wore round sunglasses
a crimson bandanna
her hair in thin dreads
and all her shirts
were sleeveless

She took the lollipop out
one more time and
pointed it at him
across the table

“You want some?”
she asked

“Um, no thanks. I, uh,
stay away from sweets.”

She dipped the lollipop
back into the glass
and stirred a bit
then put it back
in her mouth

“Good for you.
I’m not too fond
of these either.
Just use ’em to help me
break the smoking habit.
It’s been working lately.”

She picked up the glass and took a sip
of the lollipop-flavored whiskey

“Anyway, like I said,
I brought you to my place
to read your tarot cards.”

She pulled the deck out
from under the table
and began shuffling
it intently

“If all’s good,
there’ll be a second date
and perhaps even…

View original post 93 more words

human anatomy

she had long
dark
metallic looking nails

and black lips on a very
pale face

the clothes too
were designed to make her look
cold and dead

but she was quite lovely
to her new boyfriend, the mortician

She was an artist, she'd told him
And she'd also
told him that she'd like
to learn more about
human anatomy for her drawings

"That one!" she said on
their sixth date in the morgue
"I want that one! Cut his head
open from forehead
to nape. I need to see
how the brain's
kept in there."

He sighed and prepared the
electric saw. There
wasn't much for him
to complain. He'd done
pretty well
at 47, hooking up with this
22-year-old

sweet dreams, brother

The last time they visited him
in the hospital,
mother made the big
announcement

She was once more
pregnant

at 44

Hoping for a second son
of course

Because the first son
aged 21
was such a failure, of course

He will never become
anything worthwhile
Not from this hospital bed
with a broken hip
and spine

It wouldn’t have happened
if his dream
wasn’t to make it big
in the gang

But his dream was to
make it big in the 
local street gang
Serving the cocaine goddess and
hustling his way to the top

Well it was all fine
until that one deal that
went horribly wrong

People die when they stop
dreaming

Now he dreamed to just
die already

Surely his brother will choose
a better dream. He
had to

something about smartphone addiction

I liked her dad
He was an interesting guy

preached all day
long
about smartphone
addiction
while his daughter was on her
smartphone, ignoring
him

“A human life,” he was saying.
“Controlled by a piece
of plastic
with lights. A destiny
completely determined by
a machine
designed by corporations to become
god, to claim souls. How
blind, how utterly and
impossibly blind a whole generation
of human beings can be. To
willingly subject
themselves to slavery like
that. Their thumbs
and fingers always tap-tap-tapping
that screen
as if trying to break
their soul free from beyond. But
it never happens. You cannot
break a door
by merely knocking on it...”

“Whatever, dude,” said his daughter
with the phone before
her face

He shook his head and
then looked at me. This time
I too was looking
at my phone.
“I see she has corrupted you too,”
he said. “Shame. I was hoping
it could be
the other way around
just for once.”

I let the phone
down. “Me? Oh no, I was just
checking my e-mail. I've
sent some poems to
a bunch of publishers and
was hoping to
see a reply or something.”

“Hm, and is there any
reply?” he asked

“No,” I said

He nodded. “How about
a beer?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

2 POEMS featured in The Beatnik Cowboy

The Beatnik Cowboy

bit by bit, little by little

there were times when she bit and
chewed the inside
of her elbow

to spit the bits of flesh
and the blood
on her grandma

but those times were over

almost forgotten

along with the teachings that
her blood is poisoned
because she was conceived with the
wrong woman, meaning
not the one grandmother intended for
her father

But today all those
people were dead. Only father was
alive

He was all right. A hard working
man, busy with life

busy enough not to notice
that his daughter
is constantly sprinkling ashes in
his food and coffee

He’d almost consumed the
contents of
his mother’s urn

there’s just
a bit left

we gotta spend more time together

“I was ten years old,” she said,
her head resting on
my shoulder. “And the flames
covered the damn sky. Though our
neighbor was actually
lucky. Lucky…

View original post 174 more words

wasted years in a picture

Wasted years

What do they look like?
Can you show in a picture?

He nodded to himself
as he thought
about it

Of course
who other than him to know
what wasted years look like

After 45 years spent inside
a box he was qualified to
judge. And it wasn’t
even prison. It was the office.
Accounting.

45 years

And today...
Today he was the 65-year-old
photographer
who raised the camera before
the mirror and snapped
a selfie
and said
“I am wasted years.”

just some average guy with an interesting life

quite a few times she had to ask
him why he was
so shy

He thought it was just
normal to be
shy on a first date
no matter how many other dates you've
been on with other girls

He was afraid of getting
too deep into
relationships, mainly because girls didn't
like guys who still lived
with their parents

He lived with his
father
who worked as a butcher
His clothes were always stained by blood
and smelled of salt and iron
but worst of all
was that he
was drunk more often than not

About thirty minutes into
the date his phone
rang and he excused himself to
answer. It was his father

"Listen buddy. I kinda need your
help."

"Dad, I kinda need you to understand that
I can't save your ass every time
you get in trouble thanks
to your drinking. I'm busy
right now."

"Oh? Too busy to help
your old man?"

"Bye."

"No, no, no, wait! Listen. It's just
a simple thing this time. You just have to
tell the police that your
father is a butcher and that the
eyeball they found in his rectum belongs to
a pig and not a human being, okay?"

"Dad, what the fuck?"

"Please!"

He hung up
walked back to the table
sat down
smiled

"Problems?" his date asked.

"No, no. My father asked for
a ride. I told him I can't right now. It's
okay though. Nothing urgent or
important."

"Father, huh? Must be nice having one."

"Oh, you don't…?"

She smiled. "Nevermind that. But anyway,
speaking of fathers, you think you'll
be a good one?"

"Huh?"

"Cuz I surely won't be the best
mother. See, I just found out days ago
that my ex-boyfriend got me
pregnant. You think
you'll be a good daddy?"

"Um… I think my dad's calling
again…"

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