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 Captpirateface@aol.com 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....
Gabriel.


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