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