Saturday, September 27, 2008


Sleep is a Betsy Jhonson dress
I can't affrord.

I see it's lux flattering fabric
through the window
but don't dare step in the store,
knowing how much it will cost me.

If I sleep I will be overdrawn and unprepared
standing at work with an empty head.
Obviously broke and too easlily broken.

Sill I just want to drift off into
rich bruised floral print and
dive into sleep's plunging bust.

How I want to ditch my work duds,
unzip from my to do list
and slip on a rouched in the right spots dream,
so bad.

So bad
I wish my time, creativity and cash flow
were my size 16.
Not the ugly sweat stained size 10
I've been pinching my waist to zip up for the last 2 years.

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Holler if you hate your man’s friends

I want to fucking explode with Greek goddess rage
allover the sad ass douche bag cunts my man calls friends.
Never liked em’ never will
But put up with their presence because I love my sweet Andrew
Privileged suburban bitches whose mommies
still serve them like little princes on Thanksgiving day.
I know cuz I have been dragged to their houses at the sad eyes urging of Andrew and watched in horror as one asked me if I wanted something to drink and then proceeded to say “Mom, Rosa’s thirsty, get her some water.”
If I could kill all the patriarchal urges in every good man I would
With a jagged rusty tetanus steeped knife!
And as for the patriarchy
First my dad is sick and the fuck whores know it
Second I’ve just come back form visiting him, and I mean just
As in heavy bag plus surplus paper bag full of crap slung on my weary arms
as I near my front door to see two of them careen up to the gate
before I can get my keys in the lock.
Mother fuckin paper bagged forty bottles in hand they hug me
and jovially ask how my trip was
My dad is pissing his depends, has steadily advancing Alzheimer’s and will likely be unable to remember my name in a few years.
What the fuck was I gonna say…“ Oh, fine, thanks.”
Should have shut them out right then and there but am never as smart in the moment
as I am three days later.
They follow me in reeking of cheap baseball game beer.
The seven crusty cocks have with them in tow four fishy pussies that I can’t stand either.
In part because they are in my tiny Haight apartment
where a full blow party should not be happening right now
but mostly because they are complicit in the men’s bad behavior.
When I finally freaked out they just sat there quiet looking at me like I was on mute
And I almost hate them more for that.
That they first took the time listened intently to me
when I told them about my old man’s swinging gasoline tank of a pee bag,
and didn’t laugh at my clever line, the fucks,
then watched a sister loose her shit and sat there doing nothing!!!

When I decided to snap it was with the force of someone with nothing to lose.
I already hated each and every one of their guts before this night
and decided I couldn't take one more dumb ass blathering bitch boy’s remark
or asinine action.
It was when they inevitably got out of hand and the stupidest two were on the fire escape shooting a b b gun and clomping around like mentally defunked Crap Kongs
that I decided it was time.
Get the fuck out! I yell in their stupid white prim fucking faces.
Circling the apartment to inform them there is a bar two blocks down
and the party is fucking over.
Then around again saying what are still doing here?
Didn’t I just tell you to get the fuck out!

This is where my rage goes cyclone
Swirling in thick viscous clouds

Because none of them are moving

None of them

They are still having their flat assed facile conversations about nothing.
At maximum volume no less.
Ignoring me and later, worse
drunkenly mocking my tirade by
And this still makes my knuckles go white
and Attila the Hun inside swing a body long blade,

Asking me to get them a beer

“Shove the beer up your piss hole!” I scream
but get nothing but laughter
I then stopped
surveyed the scene
and saw no victory
as I was either made invisible
Or painfully visible as a fucking fool
The latter’s eyes, including my man’s, just looked at me.

ENOUGH, Enough truth
What I really want it the fantasy revenge I richly deserve.
Windows smashed and eyes gouged out, bridges burned to microscopic ash.

Monday, June 30, 2008

Before I fall asleep

Perfect pimple pustule in my mind
Comes to mind right before bed
and lulls me to sleep with its imagined pop
Salty crusty top encapsulates a three layer parfait
Rough hobo black head
that takes weather’s beatings
Greasy car salesmen compacted shaft
that pokes out neatly with the first squeeze
pushed up by
Ballerina tutu cream custard
whose messy leap completes my fingers effort.

Saturday, June 07, 2008

I love living in S.F.

Today I took two walks, both were at times when there were few people out and could stroll uninterupeted.
i feinally feel like i've made it and I belong here in that i hcan afford to dip into all the luxaries of this city.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Reminds me of Randy

Friday, November 23, 2007

Time to Shine

I am full of pie
so full I could pop like an over inflated hot air balloon
I in fact feel like one even when I have not been snackin to the max.
The days are whipping by like a foul wind as I try to float above all the ground dirty details of life.
My worries sway in my tiny basket case mind and spill over the side holding on to the edge with white knuckles.
Becoming an adult is just as bad as my parents painted it.
I work all hours of the day , including weekends and vacations just to feel unprepared an ambushed when I'm at work.
Unluckily I have kept the juvinile habit of extreem procrastination as I grown into rapunzl braids long responsabilities. maybe I'll just pop the balloon myself and save the struggling anticipation.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Grad school blues

Boring man blathers on
his mouth a backwards trash compactor
browned apple cores and blackened banana peels
barf onto the fake wood table
The stench of fouled used words
radiates squiggly stinkmarks that get
sucked into hairy nostrils and blown out as
ass kissing compliments

I hope all of the mopey man teachers who dominate this class
and tell each other how much they loooove eachother's ideas
marry evil bitches who mentally abuse them.
I'd love to see them holding a giant pink purse
stuck sitting outiside the Macy's fitting room
while their wife tries on lingerie she will wear
to seduce another man.