This poem is by a fellow writer from 3AM magazine. Her name is Gabby Gabby and I really relate to her poems. I guess it's selfish to say but we all seem to like writers who write the same sort of stuff on the same topics we tend to: Check her out at: http://www.3ammagazine.com/3am/three-poems-18/

How to live
On the edge of my bathtub I watch a girl
lick cum off of her face and smile.
I can cry while watching porn when it reminds me of sex
with someone that I loved who now loves somewhere else.
When the girl in the video kind of does something
that she thinks is sexy but the guy laughs instead of thinking it’s sexy.
When the sex is slow and it takes some time
to figure out how to change positions without pulling out.
My heart pushes up this heart stuff. I can feel it
when strangers that look like us are fucking.
We exist in there.
This poem isn’t going to teach you anything.
Look to porn to teach you about good living.

Dear Life

A psychic told me she’d read my palm On my lunch break
But I didn’t have time to know the future
I need it spelled out on my skin as I sleep
I need a lot of pain to know I am in trouble
A heart murmur and a bruise on the inside of my wrist I need you to reach for me and grip me tighter Maybe I need a bit of a dig Of your nail into my neck
A bright red bruise I need you to tattoo my name to the inside of your lip
So I can sit somewhere between your tongue and cheek
Or a little bit closer I need you for once to do what you say you’ll do
So you won’t be so god damn predictable
I can’t take your word on anything
All the phone calls that are intrinsic
All the nods that seem homage
To me but perhaps there was someone else there
That I didn’t know about Someone whose hair shines plasticine Perfect
Whose skin is pinched red and whose eyes gleam
Like candy cane Christmas Someone who sighs when you Touch her
Someone whose hormones don’t Control her life Someone who falls easy in to bed
Whose head rolls back when you fuck her In the mouth
Or in a stairwell Someone who doesn’t fall in love
But makes musical sighs Sounding somewhat like Beethoven
And a little bit indie rock maudlin. Maybe I am just holding onto you for dear life

Robin Hood

Give me one more day Sweet songs that sit at the back of my throat And refuse to budge Secrets that swim through the shell of me The highway which stretches all the way through this country Snakes through the dustbowl into this shithole town Drops you off and loses the keys Invites you for drinks and lovemaking Then slams the door on you when you are halfway in I don’t speak your language anymore Sometimes sign language can help But only in more benign situations You were sitting at my front porch waiting In the still frame of my daydream life You were moving to the subterranean crescendo Of deep blue longing Your hair was the deepest blue black And you got all my jokes Even the ones I never said If The highway is for gamblers the skyline is for everyone I breathe the dark soot of my cigarette Right down to its filter And you don’t care if I reek of smoke and lair du tempts the sun bleached stench of one who knows everything and nothing at the same time cover me be my backbone steady me against the imminent stretch of plate tectonics be my Robin Hood steal from the rich and give it to me

All the Things I feel for you

Ralph’s Market At Midnight In Van Nuys, California

My God, I love Iris Berry. She says what I'm thinking and man, can this woman write. In support of a poet after my heart I am posting one of my favorite by Ms. Berry herself which is relevant during this time of year. If you haven't read her work...give yourself an early holiday present and go here.

The lights are cruel
at the Ralphs Market
In Van Nuys
on Burbank
and Van Nuys Boulevard
at midnight
on the 1st of December.

It’s the last month of the year
and apparently it’s Christmas
according to the aisle’s
at Ralphs market.
But if I had to guess by the customers
I’d say it was Halloween.
It’s desperate here at Ralphs
In Van Nuys at midnight
and the lights don’t help any.
Florescent lights are never good for the complexion.
There’s a young, homeless couple
walking the aisles,
buying food
and looking happy
at least they’re in a relationship
is what I say.
Freshly home from a trip
To “The Big Apple,”
I went with my boyfriend
and came home single.
We had to go 3,000 miles to do that?
It happened in bed
in the dark
in a dingy Times Square hotel room
It was epic
and when that plane landed
20 hours later..
on California soul
I clicked my heels together
and quietly chanted
there’s no place like home
and now
here I am
at home
in my neighborhood Ralphs market
feeling like an alien.

The thing about sunny California
is the only way to tell the seasons
is by what’s selling on the shelves
of the market.
I have a thing for the market
somehow it’s a form of meditation for me
nothing in there
reminds me of my life…
I can do this…
I’m a spiritual giant
In the frozen food section
I’m Gandhi
In the greeting card section
and I’m Mother Teresa in the check-out line
forgiving all the tabloid sinners
and connecting with something
greater than all of this.
Credit or debit?
Paper or plastic?
Peace… please?
I’d like to give it a chance
after all
it is the Holidays.

Oh please make me ok

I was born on a full moon like half the babies in America Came out, no swam out like a wet fish coughed onto rough sands You see the stars were aligned, you see I always believed this made me magic but magic breaks…like a rope around the neck of bad intentions I was wishing for a magic prince to save me As soon as I learned the equation of skin on skin Of razors that cut out the bad parts and leave a glistening dull feeling The sound of someone sighing in the distance A coarse whispered hallelujah Half of life is commercials Suggesting a better toothpaste to make my teeth shine A proposal for a better deodorant or face cream Something I could buy to bring you closer Suck in my stomach and walk the tightrope to your heart Let’s say I called and told you that I needed you more than Let’s say I told you that I wanted to stay wrapped in your heavy arms like a missile Body bright and ready Let’s say you’re never ready The skin starts to sag, to soften the way fruit will tend to At the bottom of the refrigerator I want nothing but the best for you But selfishly I believe I am the only one who could Give this to you A shaky hand under your neck That whispers a quiet goodbye

I didn't know what to do

Quiet Goodbye

I was born on a full moon like half the babies in America Came out, no swam out like a wet fish coughed onto rough sands You see the stars were aligned, you see I always believed this made me magic but magic breaks…like a rope around the neck of bad intentions I was wishing for a magic prince to save me As soon as I learned the equation of skin on skin Of razors that cut out the bad parts and leave a glistening dull feeling The sound of someone sighing in the distance A coarse whispered hallelujah Half of life is commercials Suggesting a better toothpaste to make my teeth shine A proposal for a better deodorant or face cream Something I could buy to bring you closer Suck in my stomach and walk the tightrope to your heart Let’s say I called and told you that I needed you more than Let’s say I told you that I wanted to stay wrapped in your heavy arms like a missile Body bright and ready Let’s say you’re never ready The skin starts to sag, to soften the way fruit will tend to At the bottom of the refrigerator I want nothing but the best for you But selfishly I believe I am the only one who could Give this to you A shaky hand under your neck That whispers a quiet goodbye

My first Ghazal

Indelible Scent

We wait for the magic to happen
But it does not belong to either of us

In your car I felt a tiny spark
Penciling marks on the states I was mapping

You were wise not to kiss me at first
My body was still on fire

In your bed I am free
To let you see all of me

On my way to work the next day
I spell your name on my skin

We were so wise yesterday
Today you must push in the pin

In the bath tub I scour my skin
To remove your indelibile scent

Oh Tears

Oh, I’ve lived in the trash too long
Even in dreams it creeps up in my veins
Now let me tell you that I’m ready
Ready for anything but this
My skin scrawls with bugs
My heart is a shattered mess
I will let you clean it up if you decline to inquire
About the reason for this fire
My friends have left this hovel
Onto better things
While I dwell in the wreckage of the past
While I swing and shake in the breeze
A single tree limb supports my whole body
Threatening to break
The real hovel is in your heart
It grows dark as your lungs
It crumples me like newspaper
In your thick calloused hands
It tells everyone I came from the trash
It tells everyone to shine a great big spotlight on me
Outside of the garbage
The world is still
And I spin on my axis like a planet
Without gravity
Go ahead, tell everyone where I came from
I’ll tell them where you hid
In the folds of my flesh
Behind the roundness of my breasts
Behind the chlorinated swimming pool of my eyes
Burrowed for years
Pushing them out of my eyes
One by one
Sparkling tears
You refused to clean up