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

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

free of distortions

Dear God!

Things are just about as fucked as can be right now eh?
Last night my power got shut off... Am I embarrassed to say this... yes.
But it's honest.
That's one of the many reasons I have been trying to sell my goods on the e-bay.
It sucks being a lowlife loser... sorry gq.
Money has hit the all time low... I am using my creative outlet to attempt to hawk my goods...
God damn...
it was the worst of times.... it was the worst of times....
Well balls....

I miss being a kid, like 5 or 6, the world was a huge playground. Not knowing how fucked the world was... always living life according to what the adults told you to do and most of the time it just involved fun anyway... fuck I miss that.

Survive fuckers.

Captain PirateFace

force field

I indulge tonight in a revisiting of old times.
The harvest of memories long gone.
Some sweet and full of love.
Some sad, some bitter.
Fresh soil and screaming bloody newborn thoughts…
Plunged right back into the cold and muddy earth.
My eyes grow weaker and vision becomes blurred with every lingering tear.
I remember you the fondest…
And it’s killing me now.

Raw and painful from sobbing

A sad sight to behold.
Grown man.
Grown fat man...
hiding under blankets with a pillow pressed firmly against his face
to help quiet the sobbing.
He doesn't want them to hear.
He doesn't want to hear.
What a painful way to live.
A pathetic excuse of a breathing living thing.
Crying his... it's guts out.
Failing at life.
This is supposed to be a man,
a father,
a husband.
Not this beastly thing.
what happened?
This just shouldn't be.
This should not exist.
But it does.

More Later

The Captain

Sunday, November 25, 2007

O.G Art from Captain Pirate Face

Buy it now on e-bay!
As one day this fuckin' bastard may be famous for something...

and these pieces of Art will be like stock in Viagra and continue to rise, rise, rise!!!!

Original Art by Captain PirtateFace "The Frog Puncher"

Original Art by Captain PirtateFace "The Insanity"

love, the captain

Still need help amigo's

Alright amigo's, I am still in the grip of financial hurt so please, please check out these newest e-bay auctions and/or tell your friends about them. I really am trying to pay a few bills and get my 4 year old boy some x-mas gifts. Below you will find the item information and the web address. Just cut and paste the address into your browser and hit enter and it will bring you directly to the auction. I am letting go of a few personal items for very cheap as to try and get some funds so any help you can give I greatly appreciate it.

Thanks much,

Humbly yours,
Captain PirateFace

The Punisher from Marvel comics, ceramic bust

Leatherface and Jason Vorhees PVC Big Head figurines

2002 Todd McFarlane Movie Maniacs Tooth Fairy Figure

Napoleon Dynamite Action Figure

Freddy Krueger Ultra Bloody action figure

Gothic/Punk Skull Dia De Los Muertos holliday ornaments made by my wife

Gothic/Punk Skull Dia De Los Muertos holliday ornaments made by my wife

Ash Bobble Head

Freddy Krueger Bobble Head

Boba Fett "rare and limited" Bust

Home Decor Punk Goth Gothic Painting / Home Decor by my wife

Movie Poster Lot

3 individual Kings of Leon Limited Edition Tour Posters, all three links below to all three individually.

Original Art by Captain PirateFace "The Frog Puncher"

Original Art by Captain PirateFace "The Insanity"

Jango Fett Bust

Thank You All

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

I, swimming against the tide... am being washed out to sea...

"Every time you close your eyes.."
-Arcade Fire-

So Kiddo's, if you want that promised book of poetry and prose (ten pages jam packed with the ramblings of a sick and desperate man) please mail a check, money order or cash in the amount of $10 to:

Captain PirateFace
4630 Koval Ln
Unit 62B
Las Vegas, Nv

and of course please check out my e-bay listings, just look up the seller: captpirateface or look at the last desperate blog I put on here for direct links to the auctions. I really need the $$ kid's.
Things are bad and this time I have no secret weapon to making things work out just fine. I am looking at losing a lor of things here.

Sorry about all the begging for $$, but if you were in my shoes I think this is more honorable then other ways to acquire funds.

enough of this shite now then eh?

So, not much as of late... Thanksgiving is upon us, or as I like to call it the "Kiss the family's collective butt-athon". And I get to add just a wee bit more weight to my fat ass. yippee.
If anybody wants to throw out another title for poem or "title's" for "poem's", I will be happy to write a poem to accompany the title you give me... why? It was fun to do the first time and I think it would be fun again. That is all I got right now... see ya later.

Arcade Fire's

"My Body Is A Cage"

My body is a cage
that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key My body is a cage
that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key

I'm standing on a stage
Of fear and self-doubt

It's a hollow play

But they'll clap anyway

My body is a cage
that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key

You're standing next to me

My mind holds the key

I'm living in an age

That calls darkness light

Though my language is dead
Still the shapes fill my head
I'm living in an age
Whose name I don't know

Though the fear keeps me moving
Still my heart beats so slow

My body is a cage
that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're standing next to me

My mind holds the key
My body is a
My body is a cage
We take what we're given

Just because you've forgotten
That don't mean you're forgiven
I'm living in an age

That screams my name at night

But when I get to the doorway

There's no one in sight

My body is a cage
that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're standing next to me

My mind holds the key

Set my spirit free
Set my spirit
Set my body free


I am not asleep

I place an outspread hand on
the usual cold of the street.
Concrete that feels familiar,
as I have laid my face
miserable and drunk on it's uncaring cold man made earth.

And some days, the lunatic in me...

the closet dope fiend in me...

Misses the hell out of the familiar feeling of going nowhere.

Rather that feeling then what sick desperate feeling I live with now...

Falling down.

The get up and go of routine and doing not that much and/or... nothing.

Been standing in hallways again... Listening tot he death rattle of nervous decaying air conditioning units. Picking at baby scabs and counting out the grown up scars. And playing psychic as to how many more will cover this terrible man's terrible body. And as you can see... or guess... I am just not all there. Like a ghost that refuses to "not" be seen. They notice me in half conscious realization's. And the day I disappear they will whisper in those hallways I once stood... sometimes proud, sometimes half dead... "What ever happened to that guy?" And nobody will have that answer.

Damn shoes and the death penalty

I am on the run.
killed a man.

And I am
to my
as we
run into the night.
we are the perfect
And when we get caught will I get the
I have now while walking to the electric chair?
Will my
shoes make it to the burial?
Does rubber melt when you fry?

reaching the sea

I don't want to talk anymore.
But I will write soon.
Stuff messages into green glass beer bottles
and drop them into your bath water while you relax unaware.
Some will be eloquent, poetic and beautiful.
Some with just a huge sharpie S.O.S.
And some will just be blank...
(meaning that at that time I have nothing to say).
And the important ones will be dropped of a pier
in the darkest hours of late night early morning.
Those will be the ones you will really want/need to read.
But the ocean will swallow them whole
and neither of us will ever have a decent conversation ever again...

A message of hope... save it for the dying.

I have finished up with hope.
I cant hear it anymore.
I am now deaf to you hopes...
Your loves.
I am infected with a low survival probability.
My stage curtain has closed and there is no clapping...
no audience.
Filling up with bad news and regrets and the always looming and angry doom.
Lest we forget that sharp little pain that cut's right htrough the center of our hearts.
I sign on the dotted line that I give in...
Good luck to the rest of you, I hope your strength keeps hope alive where my cowardice just shoveled the last bit of earth on it's shallow grave.

Good Night and let those fucking bed bug's bite!

Captain Pirateface

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Desperate... please read

I am so in need of $$$$ I am now selling my personal belongings.
Please take a look at the e-bay listings, tell your friends, x-mas is well on it's way and I would be a happy camper if I could pay some bills and possibly get my kid some presents.

Either click the links below or cut and paste them into your browser

Ash (Army of Darkness and Evil Dead Series) Bobble Head

Jason Voorhees (Friday The Thiteenth film series) Bobble Head

Freddy Krueger (Nightmare on Elm Street Series) Bobble Head

Bullseye (Daredevil Villain) Mini-Bust

Abe Sapien (Hellboy Character) Mini-Bust

Jango Fett (Boba Fett's Daddy from Star Wars Episode II "Attack of the Clones) Bust

Evil Dead Metal Lunch Box and Thermos

Army of Darkness Metal Lunch Box and Thermos


Captain PirateFace

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

it's all right now, for I am here

day one has come and gone, and the amount of people looking to own a one-of-a-kind poetry chapbook has exceeded all my wildest dreams! Guess how many people are interested???
100? nooooo. 10? nooooo... the answer is: Not a damn single person so far.
(Update: 11-14-2007 - Ben Hall is interested... I love Ben)

Hello reality my name is John..
Pleased to meet you.
______________________________________________________________________ This madness.........................................................

the blame game

This rotten world
so beautiful and full of maddening life.
As this plague called the human race wades through the cesspool.

Biting, chocking, fucking and eating our way through existence.

And through the wide birth of terror that is visited upon my soul...

my heart beats strong with glowing purpose...

to give humanity one big giant germ free hug.
Smiling the big bone grin that would cower any self respecting,
grim-est of reapers.

Hiding the apparent erection poking through my bicycle shorts.
Am I winning any battle's anymore?

Wake me up when I lose.

Captain PirateFace

as promised you fucking vultures...

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Even when we close tired eyes I become a ghost and haunt the memories you have poisoned with great effect...

Hello true life adventurer's!!!

It is I, your fat fuck of a host....
Captain PirateFace!!!!!
Yay!!! (insert sound of one hand "slowly" clapping)

Thanks to all who came out last First Friday to show your support.
Tonight I just have to say, Thank you all so very much who continue to read each poison filled line of ill repute that makes it into this slightly tasty (but still way too damn overcooked...) blog of mine. Since I last checked my counter... about a month ago, I have had well over two hundred hits... so fuck! Somebody has got to be reading this decrepit, nonsense-icle cluttered thing. On Tuesday I will further deprecate myself and post two viddie's I had decided to record while under the influence of a dear friend of mine... Merlot wine. They are truly unnerving, embarrassing and ridiculous. So, shit... I had recorded these nuggets of idiocy to share with you kind folks and despite me looking like an escape mental patient and actually "pissing" while talking on one (sorry Ben... No PENIS action.) They will be posted. In the meantime I again am going to beg vigorously for all who come and read to post a comment. Any comment will do, I enjoy the shit out of them and they totally make my day! (Even the "Stop trying to write... JACKASS!" comments, They bring a huge ass shit eating grin to my slightly crooked face.)

By the way...
I am still up to my neck in "broke". So I am going to give something a dramatic try. I am going to sell a ten page, multi poem book (totally ghetto, zine style but bigger) for the fee of $10 dollars. Yes I feel that it's a lot more money then my poems are worth, but I figure you get as many randomly selected poems as I can fit in the ten pages. You also get it signed (big sell there right... yeah right) and of course this gem of crap will be made in the style of Captain PirateFace aka... The "What the fuck is he thinking" design. Oh, and in the total shipping shall be included. This is not just some scheme to rape my friends and family out of $$$. It's a test run on seeing whom exactly would purchase and would be the springboard and jab in my ass to get out and self publish an actual book... and of course would help my family and I in a time of financial hardship... all due to me being a pessimistic loser from the get go. So, if you are interested please e-mail me at so's we can talk. Alright! Enough of this shite! Let's get on with what oddities will spring forth from this diseased jack in a box I call an imagination.....

Love you all... no... really I do!
Especially you! and you! and you! and you!

Even when we close tired eyes, I become a ghost and haunt the memories you have poisoned with great effect...

Shaking the bad dream of me, you feel the sanity seep back into your tired sleepy body.
But little does one know I am just a hazy dream away waiting for my chance to run screaming and laughing into that soft pillow of your sub-conscious, where the weather is always nice and the temperature is always a comforting womb setting.

And every time you pull the cord on the trapdoor of my heart it merely strengthens my resolve.

I only haunt you so that one day when you wake you might sob uncontrollably as you realize...
you love me too.

indulging the itch

Deep and vicious scar keeps us in lust with the world A constant reminder for those that needed a soul repair.
Some that may still not be fixed.
And that circle on the chest that empties into a dark whole in the body where the heart had been.
But most hardly miss it.
A quick fuck and a few false words and feelings.
We all just sin the pain away.
Are you sinning the pain away now?

Why don't you come and indulge that scar tissue itch and sin with me?

those moments we almost forgot we had lived.

Air is cold but I somehow can taste a flavor of sweet...

Realizing it's just the memory of cherry chap stick she had worn that night,
and had come to kiss my lips with.
The moon took up it's duties with a keen anticipation shining so bright and breathtaking I thought for a moment I would faint from lack of oxygen...

Until I was jerked back into reality by a small mitten covered hand.

The laughter replaced most of the words only silenced by a deep and longing stare or a soft passionate kiss.

And God gave the rest of creation the night off as we were the only two people caressing our planets gentle face with our almost floating footsteps.

And even though the night had to end at some point and we knew that there would be a last kiss..

The pain only hurt slightly as we kept it safely hidden behind the beating of our hearts.

And now those story book romance tales can only thrive like a piece of tragic history as it lay's dormant in that dark and lonely caged place where that youthful heartbeat used to be.

when death arrives to take you on "Holiday" tell death you need a few extra days to take a few mother fuckers with you.

Two old gal's gossip.

"Such a kind face..."

"I know, but from what I hear he has something a tad bit unnerving about him"

"Like what?"

"Talks to himself, has bad mood swings... his Grandmother... you know... Sandy. Well she act's very proud of him and calls him a writer all the time but can't find a single thing he has written to show off because she's embarrassed by the filth he writes. So, usually she shows off to most people a poem he had written in elementary school he had written about clouds."

"That is such a shame."

"Still though... There is one thing.."

"Whats that?"

"He isn't a slouch in the bed baby!"

Giggling then erupts until false teeth fall from the mouths and go shattering on the floor into a thousand pieces sticky with the hot wet gummy spit of two cackling old ladies.

The life expectancy of a fool.

The world caves in around me every night.

As I sit silent listening to heartbreaking music blindly searching for those right words that can help me express the difficult state of being I am held captive in.

And yet still searching more for those words to sound complex and deep to hide the slowness of my deteriorating mind.

Sometimes sitting in a darkened room, the only light glowing softly from the monitor, hours waste away while not a single word makes it's presence known.

And yet sometimes out comes the wolves in words, vicious and attacking the world...

tearing the flesh from bone.
And yet sometimes like decay, the words come softly full of broken down sad faced angels perched on faded tombstones that rot away in long forgotten cemetery's.
Here I am as I have always been.
Humble to you, mean ass pitiless world.

Always giving more of myself than any human being should and could.

Left empty from spilling out those telling words that sometimes made me a human being.

I breath for him

My little nightmare boy.
Cunning devilish smile and temper from hell.
Yet, so sweet and caring... loving, as he calls your name and then shouts out a sweet stinging arrow of words... "I love you Daddy!"
And every breath I take...
May it be in a deep, choking/snoring sleep.
A quick sharp and painfull breath as he attacks me full on with a giggle that could tame any wild beast.
Or the breath I take when I respond to him and say...
"I love you too buddy."
Is all for him.
And always will be till the day I die.
He is my little boy.
My best friend.
My Son....

Selling bibles on the day the apocalypse comes rushing from the sky.

When Atomic fire comes blasting through your being.

Shredding skin to a fine burnt paper quality.

Cooking flesh in a fraction of a second.
Hearing the hiss and then sudden burst of the eye balls...

Will your bible still protect you?

the soul aches Sometimes all is dark.

And with a blinding sudden illumination there will be temporary pain.
Like the envelope sitting on the cherry oak, corner table...
lifted to perfect level with the help of three super glued quarters on one of four legs.
Stark white like sudden illumination...

this envelope will hurt.
It hurts to look at it now.

Whats inside I fear I may never know as my digits get clumsy and cannot navigate around this heavy thing in my hands that is only slightly bulkier than a feather.

I take this once perfectly flat and calm reality and crinkle and tear at it until it is a shell of it's former being.

Now I hold the note found within. And I instantly know what it is I hold in my hand.
A sudden painful illumination.

She is gone.

And though the words can't come...

the tears have no issue's letting gravity do what it had been created to do.

Falling and splashing between my feet only half an inch from the note that escaped my hands,
as though when I touched it my hands gave in and passed away.
Walking away I slowly creep into the safety of darkness.
And if you were to pick up that life changing, soul bleeding note..

you would find that the text it contained does not exist.
That what can crush a man to death needs not words to get a point across.
Just stark white paper where words were meant to be written.

Where feelings long gone can never show up as the sender of the note had become just as blank.

White as a ghost wordless letter...

a sudden painful illumination.

One last night sipping in the moonlight

Late, as it is now.
The smell of wet leaves brought on by light rainfall.
I am drunk on moonlight and starlight.
I cannot be chilled to the bone.
As pale light seeps in my raw nerve endings dulling out the world.
I am running naked and free through the grass and the tree's thrashing this body.
And smiling with every footfall.
Smiling with every raindrop crashing into me.
Smiling in the thick of the moonlight.

Goodnight and much love..... fuckers.

Captain PirateFace

Sunday, November 04, 2007

My frustration building into a cathartic bleeding wound of blood.

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Hello Children of the night.
No lengthy intro tonight....
Part one of my actual "Vegoose" review has been posted at:
Just click on "Rock" and look for the author name of John Robison.
Enjoy this shite I have included this evening
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When we step back and look at the blood on the sidewalk we can only ask questions.
Begging to know when the Angel fell dead from heaven, slamming it’s body into the pavement.

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Looking deep into the lame eye and wishing I was there

Sitting and staring deep and lovingly into the heart of a stone wall…
We are becoming complacent and bored…
To death maybe?
We have been too mesmerized by picking the insects from one another’s backs…
So in tune that the insects dried up long ago and we have begun to pick and feast on the scabs.
Scarring each other for the sake of love?
Or more for hunger?
Our appetite is huge and indifferent.
We are soul eaters.
We devour the sex and love and stains…
We choke on the heartache.
Is God watching this?
Are you paying any attention at all up there?
We need a miracle baby.
But do not fret.
You all can go to Hell as long as we wave goodbye with a beautiful smile.
Send me on my way with a huge shit eating grin.
Nobody wins this one.
Except maybe the beautiful and rich and bought out…
Of which I am none.
But fuck that!
A drop of blood and a fingerprint…
A signature that proudly says I am joining the loser’s club.
And you know what?
I am running for God Damn President.

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Am I leading you or are you leading me? By the hand, running into the night.

Fingers locked and my heart beats quickly.
Not because we are running.
Not because of the cold air stinging my lungs.
Only because our fingers are locked and that means we are…
Holding hands (falling in love?)
And my crooked grin gives it all away when you look at me,
It’s then we both know..
I have been owned…
Whatever you want to call it or define it as.
My hand sweats profusely despite the chilly weather.
As we go screaming and laughing through the darkness of late night.
Tearing up yards and kicking down lawn ornaments.
And now forever this moment will stain this gentle heart.
And you can tease me but some of the most special moments are the cheesiest.

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Adding up the worth… hold on let me start over.

I can only ask the simple things that require complicated answers..
That I will never get from you.
All that I ever was to you was a complication that has been learned to deal with and ignore.
Some days I pray for you to fall deaf, mute and dumb.
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As this manic crap comes to me I will post.

Captain PirateFace...
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Sailing the sea's of hell since 1980
and an official member of "The Goonie Squad"
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The experiment in truth. I need static baby!

I need willing participants to be interviewed for a telling and frightening book I want to begin.... very personal shit will be outed with an option of having a name change.

also, I am looking for someone to either "donate" to me or sell me a very very cheap hand held voice recorded.

get back to me through either here, or my e-mail:

Ze Captain

Thursday, November 01, 2007

A cry for "Help"!

So much crap raining down on me...

If you live in the Las Vegas area... I implore you to come out to this month's First Friday in Downtown Las Vegas and buy some art from my wife. We will be in a sidewalk space this month with tons of "Day of the Dead" artwork. We are in a bad slump due to me being a loser and any money we make from Gina's art this weekend will completely help us out. Her art is amazing and usually very easy on the wallet (not super expensive). I hate to beg... but we are in a bad way. If you come out to buy art and you are one of the few that enjoy my poetry I will write a poem specifically for you to go along with your super awesome day of the dead art. Also, for those over 21 there is a super cool event called "Noise" at the Aruba Hotel on Las Vegas Boulevard that happens after first Friday is over that both Gina and I will be attending.
So, you could come out to First Friday... Get yourself some amazing original Gina Quaranto "Day of the Dead" art... a ghetto poem by me, El Capitan PirateFace and a night of drumming and art at the Aruba Hotel where if one was inclined they could also buy me a shot (or two... or three... etc.) So think about it kids. Some poetry tonight for sure.

Captain PirateFace

included below is a map of downtown's First Friday event.
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How can you save me when you can't save yourself?

"nothing can save
it keeps the walls

Charles Bukowski