death looks like plastic through these tired eyes

(Goddamn I am so tired of pretending.)

We saw the "Bodies" exhibit tonight. I couldn't get past the fact that it looked like wax sculptures to accept the fact that the bodies we saw had been living people at one time. The "Fetus Room" was a hard deal. I kept thinking about my son. It made me sick to my stomach. Yeah, I know... Good Ol' Captain PirateFace the sick fuck admitting sickness to a simple exhibit... make fun you judgmental fucks. It just got under my skin is all. These are real lives that never got to be... I am lucky for having my boy. It made me miss him dearly and want to kiss his little face. We got in free so it's a good time for "free", the almost $30 regular ticket price would have pissed me off. Anyhow.. Not much else going on. I pissed my wife off for almost the entire day... It was completely my fault. I wish my apologies meant more but when you fuck up as often as I do and say sorry to try and fix it as often as I do... the words mean less and less. But I truly always mean it. I love that woman, no matter how much I make her hate me. Most of the time I feel bad she ended up with a creep like me anyways. Enough about that..
New Nine Inch Nails album this April on the 17th (the day after my 27th birthday) and is going to be called "Year Zero", and yes when I read the news I did piss my pants with anticipation. Also if I am correct The Arcade Fire's new album "Neon Bible" will be out in March. Things look good on the music front eh? Well, Here is some of tonight's shite... I really want to do a book, listen I know I hint for comment's and all but I am begging you all here... Let me know, if I self published do you think anybody would actually pay to read this literature that spills out of my head? Be honest now, If I self publish I do it with my coin and let me tell you... there is not a whole load of that. I really need the feedback. Well, my "medication" is taking effect and I really must go and try to write... It helps exercise those pesky demons (at least for a wee little while).

Thanks you rat bastard son's a bitches,

Captain PirateFace

__________________________________________________________________

Last time I checked…

We fell asleep…
Her hand draped softly over my stomach.
I listened to her breath for hours.
And when the fan hit us just right…
I would inhale the smell of her and hold it inside me.
The night was set on fast-forward.
But I hit re-play every night I go to sleep.
And with time, it breaks my heart worse every time.

It’s as if the feeling never left us.

I was drunk and staring off into the night.
Guessing at my future.
Doing a horrible job of it.
Praying for a quick death or a long love.
And my prayers were answered in the most of warped ways.
I found love quick and now look forward to a long slow death.

Crossing the line.

Ready to give the body a rest
Set the controls for destruction.
Go into the darkness with your walking talking meat machine.

When the batteries give out do we start to trigger and do the wrong things at he wrong time like any other toy?
Don’t throw me out when my batteries start to give… just hit my “reset” button…
And hope for the best.

Stolen purity in the form of love, happiness and other assorted bullshit.

Empty kiss and the look of watching and waiting for one to die.
Soulless fuck and cardboard cuddling under sweat stained sheets.
Fake little smiles and the hollow pre-scripted “I love you”.
Yet, All those you have manipulated in the love game cannot let you go.
We sit in dark corners united.
We all lost you.
You could have been telling some of us the truth?
But it’s easier to believe the fiendish version.
So who’s fooling who and how?
Collectively or all alone…
None of us will ever know.

A love poem for those young ladies that are in dire need of a love poem.

We set sail into dark waters and midnight moon’s.
Intoxicated in the mystery of one another.
Waiting for the next sweet poison tipped word to escape your lips.
My heart tumbling down ravines and canyon walls in the excitement of you.
And as you smile, laugh, look quietly off into the distance…
My mind takes snapshots of every beautiful moment.
Before every kiss…
Before every small touch…
I tremble.
My mind searching for all reason and rational…
On how I tricked you into falling in love with me.

Rescued by the angels for the fallen

After this cruel world has beaten you down.
After greeting heartache and painful grief head on…
There can sometimes be saving.
After time was running out and the drinks became a necessary evil crutch.
After the blood on your hands finally started to dry and flake off…
You can look up and see ascension of brothers and sisters with pity
set deep in their eyes and hearts.
And you don’t have to get up from the cold hard earth.
You spread your fingers and stretch out your arms.
And pure love pulls your bloodied body, your broken wings and shattered halo…
Back up to the Heavens to gently wipe away the sin carved into your memory.

Come on home.

I have waited in the night too often for some sort of small miracle.
I drank poison and broke the body and souls of complete strangers searching it out.
I have felt the fear of dying.
I have ate the serpent’s rotten apple and seen my Eden fall to ruin.
I want my innocence back.
I want to be a little boy anticipating Santa Clause.
I want to have the first kiss again.
The first broken hearted love.
The first late night writing poetry before the hurt and rot set in.
But wishing is for fools.
Praying is for the desperate delusional.
So now the best I can do is “hope”.
Hope that when I pick up a payphone on some dark street corner…
And push the ice cold buttons on the telephone…
That I will hear your sleepy voice say to me,
“Come on home.”

Smiling Girls and Broken Hearted Women

she grew rebellious and still can’t find her pretty head.
she lost her past and became a shining light of false.
she married her knight who became her nightmare…
whom she loved and hated all at once.
she grew more beautiful every day and more alone.
she was protected from the world and never heard from again.
she broke all taboo’s and finally treated herself right.
she had won the chance at a new life and kept at it with tenacity.
she broke the family tradition of failing and made the world see her.
she kept herself secure in phony deities and pharmaceutical gods.
she took to shaping young lovers to raising beautiful children.
she fed herself drama to keep herself alive.
I have cared for them all at one time or another, in one way or another.

initially this poem had first names but I felt that some may be offended so I deleted the names and replaced them with “she”. And if you are a “she” and feel that any of these could be you… you may be right and you may be incredibly far from the truth.

–John-

Battle ready.

Kneeling in a pool of blood and breathing deep.
Weapon at the ready.
He will defeat them.
No matter if they are ten strong…
or a million.
He will give up when the opposition have all fallen,
or when he himself has fallen.
But at least he will put up one good Goddamn fight before the night is over.

water

cascading down on this fat bruised body.
scalding hot and keeping him warm.
while his mind has fallen down a rabbit hole.
Chasing rabbits.
Losing his head.
Escaping the world in a small cramped space.
Drifting between asleep and awake.
Thoughts swaying between elation and misery.
Stomping both out in favor of a pleasant numb.
Fetal and alone…
with a fear of the future and a need for the passing of time.

Goodnight

Captain PirateFace

we are living in the land of the lost

Good Evening,

I hope you all are doing swell.
I know most of you are probably sleeping right now.
.....wise......
Today was horrible at best.
My (top) supervisor act's like we do shit in our job (I work in the school district as Campus Security) when in reality we are busting ass on a daily basis. In fact I stopped a kid from getting seriously beat down yesterday, I had to tackle a bigger kid to stop it. But they don't see that. This "supervisor" also insists that Campus Security can no longer be in the building. So like children (the kind parents hate) we are banished outside, even though we write reports, fix lockers and use the security camera's which are located.... inside the building...yeah. I also found out one of our kids in the special education classes has been diagnosed with cancer. I really don't have the words to describe the sadness I feel for that child. And to top it off, my little guy, my creep, my monkeyhead, has a very bad cough right now and is on medication. (He and my wife had to wait at Urgent Care for almost a total of 6 hours today, and he was just so sick he didn't even complain...poor little man) So my head is full... I feel down hearted and full of pain.
Sorry, I know I sometimes get a bit "EMO" on you all from time to time but these days just seem to happen...allot.

And here is whatever I can come up with...
Enjoy.

oh and comments are greatly appreciated.

p.s. Thank you Sheri (I think you are my only fan).

Goodnight,

Captain PirateFace

___________________________________________________________________________


Starving the mad dog

We are twisted up in our guts.
Hurting for a sip or an insertion.
Crawling like insects do.
Stinging and biting like insects do.
Heavy footsteps on bare wood floors.
Ech through my soul and rattle my teeth.
With the women weeping over open casket burials.
And the men wave from Heaven and Hell.
“Father, why do they cry?”
“Because the dead cannot.”





Sorry for everything

The priest’s watch the angel fall, and with it their hearts.
The Church’s burned to the ground
and the whores no longer had a place to be forgiven.
The collection tray’s will never again feel the touch of bloodied money.
God smiles and watch’s way up on high…
Refusing to lift on God Damned finger.




Why me?

Forget what you know about me.
I am a solid white lie.
I can’t steady my hands.
There is more drugs in my body than soul.
I know exactly what you want to hear…
But you still wont hear me say it.
I truly love you.




Love story

Took a survey the other day…
Let people vote if they cared if I lived or died.
The results were surprising.
I wanted to hold you in my arms and you still
wont give me the time of day.
I drop twenty dollar bills in front of the beauty queens gone barfly
In dives that forgot to ever close…
I barely get rejection in dark cold ally’s poorly lit.
I wonder if my guardian angel can see me?
I write poems on bathroom walls and napkins.
Nothing changes…
I am chained to my own head.
My thoughts drowning me in missing you and my varied complaints.
I am sick of being sick.
And when the sun rises…
You won’t need a survey to tell me if you care if I live or die.




Silence is empty.

I am purified when the spirit moves me to confess to you.
Strangers I will never meet walk with me through Hell.
It’s here in the dark I strip down my skin and flesh all the way
Down to the bone…
Slutting out my heart and soul.
It all rolls off my tongue and it sanctify’s my total being.
I give this away for free as it is my only currency I have that’s worth a damn left.




Why do kids have to die so young.

Sitting on the end of their bed.
Looking for a reason to go on.
To no longer be scared.
Dying for lost causes.
Killing little pieces of me with them.
We all cry for them.

_____________________________________________

See you on the flipside...

Captain PirateFace

R.I.P. Lily Munster

an excellent obit from www.unknownhighway.com


Good-bye, Lily Munster

It comes with much sadness that we report the passing of Yvonne de Carlo on January 8, screen siren of the 1940s and the legendary Lily Munster of the kooky 1960s. What a wonderful gal she was.


Lily's Final PlaceNow Lily Munster, a.k.a. Yvonne de Carlo, has "crossed over." Here is a good obit from Canada where she came from. She was born poor and died of old age (84) wealthy in a nice warm bed in a retirement home just for movie stars and movie people. The Motion Picture & Televison Country House and Hospital (MPTC) is a series of cottages where workers of film live and are watched over by hospital staff. Sounds like a very nice place to go. A lot of film stars lived and died there, including Gale Gordon of "The Lucy Show" among many other notable celebrities. Click here to see the facilities the MPTC offers, includes a small photo of the cottages. Yvonne de Carlo had class. And she went out with class. Yvonne de Carlo was well-respected by everyone she encountered. She got along with everyone she worked with, never acted like a whore or degraded herself in her public career, not like most of the female moron actresses of today. She was someone to be looked up to for her class and dignity. She worked very hard and gave her best, including her comedown role as the vampirish wife in "The Munsters" which ran for two years. She played the role with much camp and pomp. It would have continued, but the idiot TV execs decided they wanted to get rid of "novelty" shows such as The Munsters and The Adams Family, among other peculiar comedy shows such as "Mister Ed" (about a talking horse) of the time that have now become legendary. It's ratings were high at the time. And a color motion picture called "Munster Go Home" was released to theaters after The Munsters was cancelled in 1966, showing what The Munsters would have looked like had they gone on for a third year. Yvonne also was in the pilot of the famous "Bonanza," series entitled "A Letter to Lotta." Everyone, including me, remembers Yvonne as Lily Munster, but she was also famous for her sultry good looks in the 1940s era. She was in Cecil B. DeMille's "The Ten Commandments" (1955) as Moses' wife, a role which became legendary as well. But Yvonne lived a good, long life and died of natural old age -- she died with dignity and was well-loved and admired by all.

The passing is another nail in the coffin for Baby Boomers such as me who are seeing all the icons of their time pop off the planet, leaving trashy new celebrities such as Britney Spears and Paris Hilton to fill the female celebrity void.

We can reach the sea...

Not much to say tonight...

feel consumed by a strange feeling of sadness...
a passing moment, a fleeting emotion.
Silly dramatic man.

Captain PirateFace
The miserable prick bastard

____________________________________________________________________

Two lovers caught in a death stare

Under dark covers.
A hint of light reflected from the eyes.
Barely can hear the breathing.
Getting hot with every exhale.
By the time this is over I will have one.
And she will lay there wondering why she couldn't have done a thousand times better.



worried

I pace and wear down the carpet.
The milk in the fridge rots a bit more.
The phone sits un-interrupted and alone.
The music pours out pity music from small speakers.
The fly lay eggs in the dead mouse out back that choked on a piece of beef jerky.
No one knocks on the door.
My skin gets more pale, avoiding the little amount of sunlight that seeps through random
cracks in the house windows.
The bedsheets are cold.
I am holding my face in my hands sitting on a small chair made for a child.
My hands age by the second as does my face.
Time is killing this house...
and me.



help me get away

the admission of a bravery that they would all never visibly yield to.
They want to destroy me.
I am the destructor, I cannot be tamed.
Please let me go home.
I wave goodbye as your Chevy convertible goes crashing into rocks far below.
I am sorry.
Are we fun yet?



proud of the doom button taped down and set for kill

We have broken the damn and the water is bloating the bodies while we sit here eating and thinking of better times and black and white films.

The mother tearfully tells her son that she cannot turn tricks anymore as the syphilis is making her hallucinate, seeing her dead husband crying in a corner every time she attempts to seal the deal.

As I join her in bed she pulls me by the neck bringing me as close to her as humanly possible, whispering in my ear is a soft, sing-song sort of way how much she loves me and how that by morning I wont be able to walk when she is through with me.

Adding the last little mound of dirt to the cats grave the 6 year old son says a prayer that brings grown men to tears and almost has the power to bring that damn cat springing from the grave... almost.

As the door came crashing in the last human beings gave eachother one last hug and kiss goodbye before the robots began tearing them apart.



The tape ran backwards and we finally heard the voice of God

Writing the suicide letter was always hard to watch.
Death had patience and even though suicide itself brought him down...
It was his job to be there.
As soon as soul would vacate body, Death would lead the confused and newly departed down narrow hallways that would end in a room.
Death would sit them down in the room and play a tape on an old playback machine and walk out.
The next time Death would come back with a new soul the room would be empty and the tape reset.
Sure, it made him curious but in his line of work you don't question the bosses.
He knew one thing... it was one way or the other.
And not knowing the details was fine by him, making him one good damn employee.



Goodnight all... Hopefully some better stuff next time eh?

Captain PirateFace

Infection spreading...

'What will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com

So, as it is...
I am just the luckiest fellow around.
Here is my "Weekend got screwed" story.
Last Tuesday while working my 2nd job for Henderson Parks and Rec, I was running with the kids on the athletic field. While running, my clumsy stupid ass managed to twist my ankle slightly, give myself on hell of a rug/grass burn on the same ankle and land successfully on my left shoulder. All sucked and all felt like crap. Fast forward to Friday night, I was walking around on a sore foot, now only from the rug/grass burn that was now seeping smelly fluid and hurting like a son of a bitch. Saturday I can barely walk so my mom takes me to Urgent Care. The Doctor takes a look and starts getting freaked out. Tells us that I have a serious infection that is now in a stage of cellulitous (Where the flesh is breaking down from infection) and was relieved that it had not yet got into my joint. Which if that would of happened they would have had to put me into surgery and cut out the infection. So, since my case is serious but not yet that serious, they give me a tetanus shot and then put an IV line in my arm, so I can return to Urgent Care every 8 hours for antibiotics. After three of those fun visits, the swelling has went somewhat down and the infection looks as though it has retreated a bit, I am now on pills (that are so awesome that if you don't take them with a full glass of water you puke like possessed by Satan himself!). They also took the IV line out. My foot still hurts a bitch but hopefully within a few days the infection will have fully gone away. Here are some x-rays of my retarded foot.
So, other than that nothing much else really happened....

On with he crapo!!!!!

(only two tonight due to extreme "me being tired" syndrome)

We are running

The night has the taste of metal in the air
And the rain comes down sideways stinging the face.
The moon hides cowardly behind the rain clouds.
So fast that the trees in the surrounding us in the darkness becomes
dark green blurs.
Running so hard the lungs ache with every urgent breath.
Finally breaking through the forest we run full speed off a cliff overlooking
the ocean.
As you fall into the waves and rocks and darkness.
My wings take flight and leave the memory of you to the fish down below.

Old woman suicide

Sitting in her Cadillac in the parking lot of her public library.
Shirt open with bra exposed she stares down the teenagers skateboarding on the front steps.
She sips a brown liquid from an unmarked bottle in a small paper bag.
The security guard notices her and taps on the window with his radio.
She smiles and waves, taking the gun from under her dress she sends her thoughts scattering throughout her car’s interior.
On the seat next to her is her return books in a plastic ziplock bag and a note that reads:

“Thank you all for your time in assisting me when I would lose hope in finding new book titles.”

-Gretchen-

And then what else could we even try to say after that?

Goodnight and Good Luck

Captain PirateFace

'What will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com

filled with the void of those that died at sea

Hola...
Sleepy .
This upcoming Friday is "First Friday" downtown...
a collective of artist's (my wife included), music, street vendors, scene kids with matching hair,
psychotics, the homeless, 2 dozen U.S. Marshals and of course.... me.
Good times.
Come check it out if you feel so inclined.
Starts at 6:00pm and ends at 10:00pm.
For information check out.....
http://www.firstfriday-lasvegas.org/
Gina will have a tent and be selling the goods...
Cats-Skulls-and other adorable creepy things that go bump in the night.
Check out her myspace page at ArtByGina.

Here is some letters put together to form words, words to make sentences, etc...
just for you my hard working and loyal readers... whomever you may be.

Juggling a chainsaw,

Captain PirateFace

"Call no man happy, who is not dead!"

_____________________________________________________________


What did you order dear?

Looking at me with that urgent fucked up look.
Like some person, threw a human head into your lap.
This is not a sacrificial altar.
I don't even know you.
You stare from across the room with eyes full of blame and hurt.
God, I want you to hurt.
I don't even know you.
You sit in the middle of a group who's combined smell drives passerby to suicide.
I have to admit,
your next drink will be from me, on me.
I don't even know you.
And by morning when you are under thin blanket
and the makeup has ran down from sweat and tears
and promises you never intend to keep...
I still won't know you.



When they pull out the heart what will surprise you the most?

I imagine...
nothing could take you by surprise.
When the night ran late, with our first kiss...
I remember a small knife jabbed lightly into one of my ribs.
You smiled and I could feel the defeat that would last the rest of my life.
I am still at a loss..




I am giving you the creeps

With one hand deep into my most important secret spaces.
With little half dead poetry scratched out on mundane pieces of paper.
Some illustrations of explicit sexual misconduct.
I always find myself standing in the streets alone...
little papers floating down around me, the wicked center of my vile island.


A thousand lives turned upside down...
(A thousand bodies lay alone at the ocean floor)

The mess of being alive is...
has been...
stolen.
We miss the way the cloths would pile up in bedrooms and hampers.
The air condition pumping out the bleak and un-excitable cold air.
The silence of two bodies laying next to one another, with nothing more to say.
All of us ghosts before death.
We all are...
wasted opportunities.
Sad eyed martyrs.
Keeping hope in all things make believe.
The idiots who stuck around when there was a choice of heaven.
All for this.
To watch us being forgotten.
To watch our true loves sweat it out on top of our most hated enemies.
All that remain for us are cold, hard facts.
The oceans will always be a soup filled with sunken swollen bodies.
You may not always love me.
And the night is never truly dark until you just close you God damn eyes.


We try, God help us we really do...

We look up at all above us with worried and confused expressions.
Palms turned up begging that we do not become stigmatic and obsessed with...
Velvet Jesus paintings and,
Salvation in small bottles and dangerous lady friends and,
crippling fear.
We just want somewhere to put our love.
If it's not too much to ask.



Phone calls begging for your heart (piece of ass)

The apology boy.
Begging for a last stab at love..
at her.
The thought of her showing love for anyone but him breaks his heart,
turns his stomach.
Refusing to let her go, painting a portrait of himself that he has proven
time and time again does not exist.
Childish and hurtful to the ears, this ruse almost always works.
She hangs up the phone and surprises this enormous stroked ego,
joining her girlfriend under the covers.



Damn

I got lucky and never saw it coming.
I spend my days laughing and crying and screaming.
I thought this was the norm?
You have won me over beautiful.
Christ can have my meek salvation, I promise my soul to you.


Goodnight and I promise to try harder next time.
Sucker.