Dungeon Majesty

Devastina

barbarian mistress

tougher than a troglodyte hide

two headed battle axe

cleaves skeletons in the musty caverns

rage as you do but 

careful around Mystika's

classy skinny skeleton slave

Boney M

Mystika--she takes life away

just as easy as she gives it

and her clothes are woven

with spidery silken threads

made of mystery

and darkness

a very

necromantic

kind of lifestyle

a beast nearby polymorphs into

Shakuntala, half elf

warrior child of two divorced worlds

she wills upon her foes a natural disaster

she does whatever the fuck she wants

because she is--I am pretty sure--

chaotic neutral

over her shoulder Latiza sends

2 x magic missile pow pow!

you said you go to wizard school?

psssh

double magic missile is in Latiza's blood

a part of her body as much as her beguiling

blazing eye balls

these four vanquish foes so bad

every night the dungeon master

weeps himself to sleep

majesty of the dungeon;

matriarch rulers of fate

you may pretend to roll the dice as though it were your master

but you bad-asses are not fooling anybody

purikura girl

purikura girl
transcends something

every time she

goes in

the purikura

how do we collect
this stuff

even though

we are the ones

who make it

create
a perfect
capitalism











spider queen

hatchlings in the lair
deep underground

dear reader,
I know what you are thinking but
her lair is extremely
well decorated

spider queen has the keenest
spider sense

also
the keenest
sharp spider mandibles

spider queen every day
your dark elf spider minions
engage in a never-ending war with the scientists over

who will control

all humans

I hope it stays that way because
there is no good or
evil in this world
only spider queen

time to

go out to the field and
gather the worms
close by




time two

the next time it
was not as good as the
first time

usually it is
this way




times two

every week we did
the multiplication speed test
everyone had to
do it

I came in last
every time

this embarrassed me

I think
I went slow because
I could not concentrate
and I could not concentrate
because I felt embarrassed

also--
I was not fast at my
multiplication tables
& that did not
help

still we had
to do it

most things
were this way




two times

I watched as
two times he
hit her

it took four before
I could come back to my body




old timer

I shouted to her out
the car window but she
was hard of hearing &
in the middle of
talking to
whoopi goldberg

I looked back and I
noticed whoopi
standing right
there

whoopi probably
thought I was yelling
at her




old timey

noah would say this
a lot he
liked it when stuff was
old-timey




old times

stuff is not like it
used to be but
I can not remember
exactly the way it was

some white guys
feel oppressed

really, though
we are jealous

jealous because we are
swimming in the guilt
of what it means
to be who we are

the more you try
to ignore the guilt
the tougher it is
to live with it

do you
live with it?

maybe if I start calling myself
"oppressed"
it will go away










one last one before sleep

i can not believe
i fall for your cheap tricks,
john darnielle

you are like groucho marx
if groucho was sad
instead of funny

still I feel the way I do
when I hear you
on the stereo
at 1.38 AM

lisette and vivian outside are
arguing about a lighter

i dont mean it as a joke but
i just had deja vu

Tim #3

"Dude, it's like 30 emails a day, and I try to be nice and reply to everyone with a touch of personability. Sometimes I screw up, sorry.

Tim"


CURSES!
-hopes
-dreams
-fantasies

DASHED!
ALL DASHED BY TIM

how could somebody do this to me
how could someone not see
my genius
my beautiful, glorious
GENIUS.

MY GENIUS THAT RADIATES
LIKE A MILLION TINY RHINESTONES
AS THE SUN IS SETTING
OVER NORTHERN CALIFORNIA

you will regret this, tim!
one day I will be so famous
one day I will have a car
I am going to drive it right up to your house
I am going to have the coolest sneakers
I am going to deliver to you the latest issue
of Atlantic Monthly
that month it will have my face
RIGHT ON IT,
TIM

and you are going to regret it!!!
you will regret it then!!!

Poems to mythical entites #3

Elf Queen

please do not
lead me astray

elf queen you prepare me a feast
but I am the one you want to consume

elf queen you rule
from a wooded throne
and I
am an intruder
in your queendom

please grant me safe passage
through these woods

I am so
clumsy
in the presence of your
elvish grace

please forgive me










Cockatrice

there are an estimated
47 distinct ways
to be killed
by a cockatrice

always they are
turning people into stone

be wary of a cockatrice's hiss
it will hiss one third of the time

normally
hissing has a ten percent chance to begin
the petrification process

If it is a new moon
and you are not carrying a lizard corpse
the chance to die is one hundred percent

if you are turning into stone
you can eat a lizard corpse to stop it
even lizard from a tin can works

better open that can
quickly

poems to mythical entities #2

emilio you are not an
actor you are a
fucking shape shifter

i watched mighty ducks #1
73 times

still i do not know
your secret

emilio cardiac arrestevez
emilio depressedevez
emilio "i'm the bestevez"

you laugh at me
while you fly around in your
green space car

emilio-
lets go get sushi
and not pay

vaosan
you have more HKs than carter
has liver pills

people say nasty things about you but
its just because you clear all the shit
realm first

already i know
you know
you already knew that
already

WHAT IS THE BLACK SMOKE MONSTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

G. tincture

I am writing on the
typewriter

all day
in the next room
mark and ruth were
making:

MUSIC WITH YOUR ROMANTIC PARTNER
- 2 parts recording
- 5 parts arguing
- 1 part shouting sadness
- 2 parts vague accusation
- .5 part silent introspection
- 1 part retaliatory threats

in a small closet start with the recording
stir in arguing, adding gradually

separately, mix:
shouting sadness, vague accusation, silent introspection
and retaliatory threats

add these contents
periodically
to the original mixture

shake vigorously

I do not watch LOST any more
I don't need to

"You want to be a sad, lonely drunk?
fine!" she shouts
all inside a closet
of a closet
in a closet

tim #2

i sent tim
another email today

"SUBJECT: Dear Tim
------BODY--------
Tim, I have another poem for you, Tim.
It is called "tim" and I wrote it about you--Tim."

after that i pasted in TIM #1
i hope tim likes TIM #1

tim

i sent my poems to a lit mag
and the guy wrote back to me:
"Thanks for letting us consider some of your work,"

can you believe it?
he thanked me
for letting him consider my work
i must be a truly great writer

to an editor
it must be a privilege to receive my
robot manuscript
in the internet e mails box

i am going to get so big
i will be really famous
and make money
really, any money at all
would be nice right now

but right there is when things got hairy:
"Thanks for letting us consider some of your work, Michael."

i
am not Michael.
apparently, though
it is a good thing to be Michael
this presented a problem

"Looking forward to the read.

Best,
Tim"

i decided
to play it cool

"OK-- thanks much Tim."

i said.

maybe he will not notice
i am NOT Michael
until after he accepts the poems

i am eating thai
and drinking an old heineken
i found in the fridge of the
children's museum

i have eaten little enough today
that the one beer is getting me
a little drunk

old heineken
tastes worse than heineken

please send me some money, tim

Noel Trapper

I used to live with noah
but I dont live with him
any more

now from across the country
he gets emails from me
in the middle of the night

"SUBJECT- ohmigod

--------BODY--------
http://catpurrsonsplace.blogspot.com/
-------"

it is 1.15 am and I cant
type the letter p

when I want to write p
I have to find a p

copy and paste
it.

it is 4.17 pm in
Brookline, Massachussets
and Noah is asleep

I miss him.













barbasol

theres a can of barbasol beard buster
in the smelly bathroom

the guy used a can of barbasol
to take the dino D N A on the plane
in jurassic park

they dont let you take
barbasol on the plane
any more

Ghosts

everything physical
requires three dimensions

everything mental
exists in at least four dimensions

ghosts
need five



















Poem

maybe I should write a poem
right now

never mind.

















Talisman

I am late
for the game of talisman

the board game
called talisman

I should get on my bike
and go

I hope this time I am something cool
like the wizard

not something stupid
like the bard
or the theif

lame.

MALAHKREKT

I am getting on

my feathered broom

riding off

into the night

the night

which is as black
as a wet black sock somebody left
on the ground
at civic center bart





























I fell asleep

I was lying down
in my bed this afternoon
and I fell asleep

when I woke up it was
eight pm

last night I was going to sleep
I could feel myself start to drift off

certain I was not going to come back
certain I was going to die
in this bratty apgar punk house
where my testicles are turning
into mush

my roommate met a girl
tonight at the punk show
they were fucking loudly
top forty hip hop on the stereo
to drown it out

"did I fall asleep?" says Echo
"for a little while," says Topher

every time I felt myself start to drift off into death
I'd stop it just before I passed the point of no return
I experienced sleep paralysis
four times in a row

"I'M THE AMBASSADOR"
said e-forty
as I desperately tried getting my brain
to connect with my sleeping body

when I am experiencing sleep paralysis
I am awake
the thing in my head is awake
but my body is not awake

when I try to move I move my metaphysical self
it passes straight through my flesh
I can move this second self around the room
but I cannot move the body that houses this metaphysical being

when I experience sleep paralysis
my limbs are bound
my body sinks deeper as water
fills my lungs

I can sense someone close beside me
they have come to harm me in my sleep
my spirit moves about the room
I can see everything,
everything except this person

all the lights are off and the doors are locked
and the walls
are on fire

I am trapped
inside

one time
I had been watching a lot of X files
and I was certain this person
in the room
was an alien

I now know
what it feels like
to be abducted by aliens

still, when I woke up
I was too lazy to get out of the bed
and write my last goodbyes

today what I am most afraid of
is dying in a place
as dumb as this one

Self-destructive internet dreamboat #3

(written about 38 minutes later from S.D.I.D. #2)


It apears
my dreamboat
has left the building

a girl named Brit
started hitting on me
and that is where
I lost track
of the S.D.I.D.

Brit came up to me
stated she was hitting on me
asked me
if I was gay
she was drunk

she bought me a drink
this was the first time
somebody has bought a drink for me

actually that is not true
but at the moment I forgot about the first time
somebody bought me a drink
so I was very excited

Brit talked about
Hannah Montana's sexual relationship with her father
and some book about something or other
I promised her I would check out the book

she would stand on her toes as she talked
rubbing her breasts on me
as she brought her body up towards my ear

Aaron Cometbus had reviewed her zine
she was extremely excited
certain she could use this cred
across the nation, on tour
to make huge wads of cash selling zines

"Aaron Cometbus reviewed my zine
he said Eggplant and him discussed the thing
over coffee
do you have any idea?
those are the two biggest zine writers
in the whole Bay Area
and they talked about
MY ZINE
over coffee
you know how like
you're in a metal band
and when you go on tour there's like
this huge pit every time
but when you get home
there is nothing?
It is going to be just like that,"
she explained

somewhere during all this
my dreamboat disappeared
I went looking for her
to no avail

maybe its more fun
to write about her like this
anyways

I AM LOSING

my hair
the other day
I looked in the mirror
Sid was cutting
my hairs and
she said:
"do you have a receding hairline?"

I looked in the mirror
my hair grows like freaking
Danzig's cowlick
and I am losing
my fucking hair

some cultures believe
your power is stored
in your hair

I am losing
my powers

Sid; is this haircut
the last haircut
I will ever need in my entire
LIFE?

am I going to be
an increasingly bald
powerless sorcerer
for the rest of my existence?

I wanted to ask Sid all this
but I was too scared

some day I might
have some poor soul
trim the lifeless wisps
of my manhood
to make myself feel better

to make myself feel
like I am a normal person
who needs haircuts
just like everybody else
am I turning
into my father?
that fucker!

"Hey can I take your picture?" says Josh.
"Sure."
"What are you writing about?"
"I have a receding hairline."
"You do?"
"Look at THIS."
I show him
my receding hairline
"Do not worry.
Mine is like that, too
it's been like that
for a very long time."
"I'm not so sure."
"It is materlineal
does your mother have a brother?"
"Yes, but he is a junkie."
Josh looks at me.
"No, it means I never see him," I say.
"What about her father?"
"He's not bald."
"Well, there
you go."
"Oh," I say.











CRUDDY

I wrote this poem about you
but really
I could have written this poem
about anyone
and I am headed south
around lake merritt
towards eleventh street

while I move I am thinking
about what I will say
when I get there
"hey. I was nearby your house and--"
I have not called
and I do not want to seem
creepy

in the end I think the worst thing
you can do
is make an excuse
a creep
always
makes an excuse

while I move I am wondering
if all boys think about this
or is it
just me

I get there and all the lights are out
upstairs, your room
is as black
as the sweater I am wearing
the black sweater which I found
discarded on the ground

I head north on Campbell
and I am
a dumb looking white kid
on a brightly painted bike
in a neighborhood
that does not
and should never
belong to me

this is not to say
I should not live here
but even that
simple silent act
might open a floodgate
of white trash

we all know
the real white trash
lives in a condo
and I
am the smelly trickle
that proceeds their gushing grossness

I stop for a moment
on Campbell street
at the house your friends bought
watch them in the night
stripping the floors

I remember helping them--
pulling out carpet staples
with a pair of pliers
screaming
about how I was some sort of eagle
hunting my prey

you were in the house
banging noisily at a crowbar
with a metal hammer

I think about how
Daniel Johnston knows
unrequited love
makes the best kind of art
as I head home across peralta

just how do we know what we know
anyway?

I could have written this poem
about anyone
but really
I wrote this poem about you

self-destructive internet dreamboat #2

(Update-- 11:59 that same night.)


I went down
to the shit town
San Pablo street
punk rock venue
across from the burnt out fry shack

standing right outside
on a carpet of cigarette butts
was my suicidal internet dreamboat
I was about 76% certain it was her

she was very short
I pretended not to notice
her stare at me across the distance between us
as I wondered
if she had gotten the message
I sent earlier in the day

right before I came here
I was at Sam's house sitting
on the couch looking at
furry nudes
with his roommate, Jamie

at that moment
that was her--Jamie's
chosen method of procrastination

I have seen Jamie
on OK cupid, as well
though we have yet to talk about it

we looked at enormous
anthropomorphic
chameleon
breasts

they filled up half the whole screen
as Jamie's kitten
climbed into my lap
and began to clean itself

I guess I should stop writing
this crap
and go talk to my dreamboat

self-destructive internet dreamboat #1

there she was
on OK cupid.com
her angry face pressed into a sheet of glass
up above some sort of
painted wooden bison
I could see right up
both her nostrils

her speech bubble above this picture said:
"I am masochistic,
hateful,
and apathetic"
immediately I knew she was the one for me

her self-description
(because, you know. you have got to have
a self-description)
said:
"just killing time
in between suicide attempts
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx"


I drew in my breath
felt the butterflies rise up
through my lungs
into the arteries of my
beating heart

she lives only
eight miles
away

at this very moment
she could be only
eight miles
from my present location
and she logged in
just yesterday
at two seventeen
P.M.

"my asshole itches,"
she writes

her profile is poetry
every line
breaks my heart in half
then tries super glue
the whole thing back together
before I get home from work
or something like that

why
did this harebrained goddess
sign up to this website
and make this wonderful
half-assed profile?

does she want to find
someone like ME?
am I the reason
she does all this?
how do I even approach
such a powerful
person?

if I knew all this stuff
maybe I would not need
to write poetry

MANTICORE

you are always
flailing
flailing about
with your terrible
claws

your venom
is nasty
and nobody even
likes you
but manticores
like it better that way




RADIANT MAN

in the Huffin House bathroom
you are glowing every
hour of the night

you watch over me
when I am peeing
always with your
sad & honest eyes
eyes incapable of judgement
eyes just like
your still beating heart

Radiant Man
you are the patron saint
of urine
and we leave our human hairs
in the drain of the shower
as offerings
to your quiet splendor

I know you wish the world
were not this way
but I am glad you will still
accept me as I am
if not always
then for at least as long
as we leave you plugged in




SORCERER

you are the root
of all my misery

always
watching with your
furrowed brow

your powers
are long and white
like the hairs
on your mage head

that is because
your hair
is where you keep your powers

people say
my poems are
formulaic

but nobody says that
about your magic spells
and when you think about it
those two are not so different

I know you see
a twisted future
when you look through
your demon oculus

I only wish I could know
your true intention

maybe then
my visions of you
would not haunt me quite so bad

we are nothing but chumps
in your metaphysical game of craps

every time we roll the dice
we roll two
thousand serpent eye balls

you watch me in your
obsidian orb
as I get home and
sit down at the typewriter:

"SORCERER

you are the root
of all my misery,"

I write



----