The best thing about life, Is knowing you put it together

"They look like big strong hands... don't they?"

Water rolls down the skin like tiny beads..
Eyes close so that they might see.
Illum tangendo (touching him)
This sun is a star in someone else's sky
Illum tangendo (touching him)
This moon is making someone cry...
Illum tangendo (touching him)

Captain PirateFace say's "Ahoy!"

Captain PirateFace say's "Ahoy!"
Updated by, Captain PirateFace

The Captain


This is not an Exit

Never Say Die!!!

"the tigers have found me
and I do not care."

Charles Bukowski

there is no fear here

there is no fear here
there is a fear here

Sunday, July 08, 2007

leading me to my cliff....

I want to eat the brains of every bastard who has given me a crooked look!
(That includes you momma!)
I forgot you all.
Will somebody come along and save me from myself?
Save me.
Save me.
I am dying. Killing myself?
Mercy Killing?

Sex? Nope.
One brain is diseased and rotting and on display for all you bastards to poke at and comment on the sick fuck.
Creepy fat bastard... John Robison.
Captain PirateFace.... it sounds like he lives in fantasy too often.
Like a goon.
My mind is made up, I stay confused.
Help me.
How many God damn secret messages do I have to put out there?
The time is running out...
it's cold.
Well then, Panic attack anyone? As Hunter S. Thompson wrote...
"This won't hurt"
But it does! Every day! I want God or Jesus or Buddha or Allah or whatever to come to me and say "You know what Asshole... Stop being so negative."
Yeah Right.
I am causing accidents.
I have lost track of the moon tonight, I think it must have given up.
I am losing my nerve. I just want to win. To be the winner.
My God, I can barley make heads or tails of these moods anymore.

And that is life...

such.......... is life.


So, What should I be when I grow the fuck up? eh?
Let's have a game. You "Loyal" readers (I think I am up to three now) send me in a title for a poem and I will destroy the creative aspect of the title by writing it's accompanying poem. E-mail @

and now for some shite...


To that place where the doors lay down dead at the feet,
never to open or close again.

Just the longest stretch of highway, as far as my failing vision can see.
Cracked asphalt... more recognized as Battle Scars.

And this road has tasted blood.

We are one in the same.

Going nowhere.

Scarred and the taste of blood a constant.

As the sun burns and the rain falls.
Tumbleweeds tumble gently across the beaten and worn heart.

July 11th 2007. Some recent "strange" things I have viewed....

The other day while driving out of a McDonald's parking lot, I glanced over at a poorly lit bus stop and spotted a prostitute having sex with an elderly African American homeless man. She was sitting on his lap with her dress hiked up facing forward and rocking back and forth... yeah, pretty nasty and disturbing.

Today, Las Vegas had five whole minuets of rain. After two of said five minuets I saw an old man eat it right in front of me on a dinky little scooter. The streets in Vegas are very slick when it rains, obviously this old man had no indication of such things. I stayed behind him and got ready to get out of the car to help, putting myself in park and turning my hazard lights on. But he quickly picked himself and his shitty little scooter up and started driving off. I pulled up next to him at the next light and asked if he was alright... He mumbled something and all I heard was the word "Fuckin'".

Also today, At the school I am working at for summer school I decided to go outside and check out an area I don't regularly patrol and found myself staring at a wall with millions, and I do mean "Millions" of ants. This wall was about two hundred feet long as it was the exterior wall to a side of the school and every bit of wall had millions of ants on it. As I looked on in disgust I looked down to see hundreds of the little bastards on my shoes and scaling up my legs. Of course I did the mature thing and panicked. Pulling off my shoes and dousing my legs with the water in my water bottle. And the craptacular part was I still was too late in getting the ants off and was bitten a few hundred times on both legs and ankles................ yay.


"You've just seen a prince walk by. A fine, Troubled prince. A Hard working, unappreciated prince. A pal, you understand? A good companion. Always for his boys."
-Biff, in reference to his father, the doomed salesman in "Death of A Salesman". Also my favorite line in the play (written by Arthur Miller).-

Here is some more shite.

The left hook from God

I started out with an almost formal complaint.
And suddenly as fast as one can stand I was on my back.
The world had grown quickly black and I could do nothing and move nothing.

I lay there for almost an eternity and finally found the strength to stand.

Wiping the blood from my mouth and nose...

I raised both hands, tightened into balled fists to the heavens and shouted...

"Is that the best you can do?!?!?!"

The fear had left me and I stood ready for another explosion of force.

But it never came.
I turned to walk away.

The waves in the ocean had ceased to be.

The clouds sat still in the middle of the blue sky.

I smiled, it was the only argument I had ever won...

even if it was a damn "give".

The sounds have become mute and the hearts are heavy and cold.

The music had died.

No more hiding emotion in a musical embrace.

No more sad songs creating sad eyes and sad, sad tears.

This poetry has been drying up for some time...

and if there could have been any music in any of those sickly little lines of verse...
It faded the second the words leaped from the soul.

The world fell out of love.

The faces trudged along sad and mute staring at the other passing face's
and quickly turning away.

Ashamed of what we could never be again.

Our hearts with it's rhythm, lost the beat and warmth.

Leaving it cold and lacking the changing beat it had perfected.

No more quick beats of passion.

No more slow beats of soft embrace.

Just a lump in our throats.

Begging to be slit.

A Viking funeral.

I may have lived the life of a coward.

But, I want to go out a man.

Launch my remains to the sea in a small boat with tinder ready for burn.

Let my son fire the flaming arrow that will ignite my passage into the other realm.

Bang sword and ax against shield and drink heavy.

I guess the lack of sleep is really getting to me?

stale taste

The dark nights are getting longer.

The wine has lost it's scent and the taste is stale and dead.

I almost beg for your comforts.
Can you hear me?

Can you feel me through these solid walls?

I am calling out to you and the echo is almost deafening.
I miss you kiddo.

I wish you could see that.

I wish you could look past this man you claim is the embodiment of mistake.

In these eyes, is the boy you fell for.

Past this fat man's face.

I know it's a damn hard look.

I have been to the mirror and I still am on the search.

I know the words "I love you" have lost a lot of weight.
But beyond the ease of just "saying" them...

I hope one day again...
you can feel them.

Fresh faced and ready for action

We rock the night away listening to the hits of "P.M. Dawn".

And crack open a beer for good measure.

The train pulls up and we grab our gear.

Grab our elephant gun's.

I miss this train on purpose.

As the heat is getting to me and I have a horrible poem to write.

Loving love and loving pain for the sake of finding a love I can truly call my own.

Get that?

Well, once you do.. clue me in as I am not too bright these day's.

Goodnight and I swear next time less drama and more fun.

Captain PirateFace


Benjamin Hall said...

HAHA. "PM Dawn" :)

My title for a poem is:

"The words of confusion"

Anonymous said...

Title - When life turns around

go with it John. School is kicking my ass, so I went on vacation. It also kicked my ass. Had so much fun, now school work is making me crazy. Or is that my kids? I am sorry about your recent relationship issues, i wish you all the luck and Gina all the understanding.


How can you save me when you can't save yourself?

"nothing can save
it keeps the walls

Charles Bukowski