tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62217072012-05-21T06:24:05.924-07:00Poetry, that's all you gotta knownefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.comBlogger241125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-62450841874889140512012-04-22T18:25:00.001-07:002012-04-22T18:25:44.888-07:00

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-8932805599156308902012-04-12T03:22:00.000-07:002012-04-12T03:22:00.455-07:00

Even If Only Should Never Fail Should Always Nest Should Sometime Stay Even then If then Only then 12

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-71599540675325097432012-01-04T10:09:00.001-08:002012-03-26T02:36:24.601-07:00

(The Friends of Miniver Cheevy Series: Part 4) The only thing he loved more than writing was his wife, and after 7 years she wanted a divorce. But Frank would tell you he was a construction worker, not a poet. He'd Say: "It's not a fucken big deal. My wife married a construction worker not a poet. I build things with my hands. I put the world in order make it beautiful. Sometimes things

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-2328630706754231522012-01-03T06:42:00.001-08:002012-03-26T02:34:48.611-07:00

(The Friends of Miniver Cheevy Series: Part 2) Carey was a cat person. She was still young at 36 and by all accounts still pretty as the day was long. Still single. She didn't go out anymore, didn't enjoy it anymore the way her younger self used to. Men are dogs anyway. She'd tell you she was waiting for the right one. Till then the only man her life was Ferdinand the cat. She'd tell

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-26083452920760072602012-01-02T04:20:00.001-08:002012-03-26T02:33:50.631-07:00

(The Friends of Miniver Cheevy Series Part 1) They would grow up to be wild beast without a strong female mother figure, Jo Anne was sure of it. At the ages of 19 and 17 her teenage boys were nothing but trouble, the kind of boys only a mother could love, and even that was up for debate at times. Jo Anne was a strong woman, strong willed the way Disney villains are before going astray.

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-74101903820116610842011-12-30T18:15:00.000-08:002011-12-30T18:18:16.673-08:00

(b side) ah, here in Southern California: there is no snow, there is never snow. You have to drive to find it. I take comfort in knowing that out there, (somewhere) is the most beautiful scene of hills covered in white. Homes covered in icicles. and the trees bare and asleep, in my imagination there is this peaceful place. I guess, the saying holds true, the grass is always greener on the

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-46279494990902085432011-12-11T21:13:00.000-08:002011-12-11T21:13:23.372-08:00

she is the littlest lion. a small white fluffy dog but with a lion's heart. see her kick the dirt behind her see her stride with a confidence larger than herself. see her yawn, showing off her tiny fearsome teeth. She is the littlest lion, and no one can see. nor can anyone see the brave lion tamer in me. 11'

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-45438656279773382762011-11-10T02:29:00.000-08:002011-11-10T02:31:29.385-08:00

Thanks to The Poetry Palace for this award. I would like to nominate Marbles in My Pocket

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-2548489012108725142011-11-08T11:31:00.000-08:002011-11-10T20:50:26.425-08:00

I think of those days fondly. It was the apartment next to the Sorority house It was Berkeley It was the beginning of the new millennium I had moved in with a good friend. Met him in high school Then he came Berkeley We bonded the way men bond, over girls over music over alcohol over girls. there was communism and machetes there was bar tending and paintings there was golden eye and

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-21755452008293779752011-10-31T03:21:00.001-07:002011-12-30T17:53:01.520-08:00

I met Rick the first week of college. We all went on a trip to Santa Cruz, it was his hometown. While there we went to visit an angel. A home town girl Rick had left behind or something. She was a charming creature, bright eyed, with tanned skin cared for and loved by the sun of Santa Cruz. We all went to beach. I had never seen the ocean at night before. Fantasies of growing up near

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-67200358599962928332011-10-28T00:01:00.000-07:002011-10-30T02:35:22.579-07:00

My father was a villain. A real bastard. He taught me to take a beating like a champ. And like a slot machine, he gambled on what sort man he would make out of his son, each time he raised his arm. two strokes calmed him down, for awhile, and only for awhile. he became a bastard from his wheelchair too. There were times I'd damn him to hell, even though I do not believe in hell.

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-38714332894121932732011-10-15T01:37:00.000-07:002011-10-20T21:29:59.529-07:00

when I think of my future, there is not much fear. when I was young I was afraid of what would become of me. not knowing if I would sleep alone in my bed or if there would be children but not much of a paycheck. would I fail, squander potential, go mad in an empty room? would I become my father? when I was young I was afraid. but now I am in the future of my younger self. alone. no wife

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-17899263691540507062011-09-23T04:51:00.000-07:002011-11-16T23:42:02.090-08:00

She is deep inside you now. like a dagger, straight to the heart, (from the back). the worse is done. It can only get better from here. Best to forget that you once swore to die for her.   Better that love make a liar of you, than a damn fool. 11'

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-40723116558878945312011-09-18T04:14:00.000-07:002011-09-18T04:14:58.430-07:00

(B Side) Should all else fail should your love be incomplete. Should you lose her, and see it all happening in slow motion. Then, before she finds another, Take her one last time and whisper in her ear- Nobody can do the Skate- Like I do Nobody can do the Boogaloo- Like I do Nobody can do the Philly- Like I do nobody, nobody.... 11'

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-14916700776029971592011-09-17T20:43:00.000-07:002011-09-18T04:10:07.410-07:00

Thank you for reading the eighth continent So many thanks for all comments and feed back. A special thanks to Poetry Palace and would like to nominate Muzzle Flashing

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-20949302414669270332011-09-16T21:22:00.000-07:002011-09-27T18:29:32.621-07:00

Ulysses was lost at sea, trying to reach his true love. He was distracted, by the Sirens. The Sirens sang to him. The Sirens song drove him mad. Ulysses tied himself to ship's mast, to keep from going to them, and to his death. He wanted to hear their song. But you are no Siren, you sing no song. instead it's the light in your eyes- like a lighthouse lighting my way as I steer my ship

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-70177926574683321742011-08-30T03:39:00.000-07:002011-09-24T01:23:24.215-07:00

So, she stood me up and not in the usual way. There but still absent

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-80508690629902642602011-08-25T21:47:00.000-07:002011-08-26T00:13:54.216-07:00

I wanted to describe you the way you would describe a Tiger. or a perfect shard of broken glass. Something fragile as paper ashes before they crumble and hidden like a small mouse in the wall. I wanted to get it down perfect. Perfect as shark's teeth. This will have to do for now. 11'

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-27704709838267926712011-08-24T04:01:00.000-07:002011-08-27T03:06:49.447-07:00

That girl is dangerous with her curly hair, and long legs. Dangerous because, you will get tangled in her hair like a net and be unable to outrun her with those legs. She is dangerous, because she doesn't need you. There is only one of her, and so many of you. She will initiate you into her cult, and you will thank her. you will hang in a web for days, grateful. there will be no escape.

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-4367776301956546842011-08-24T03:54:00.000-07:002011-08-27T03:44:32.395-07:00

Aquella morena es peligrosa, con su pelo rizado, y piernas largas. Peligrosa, porque usted será enredado en su pelo como una red y seras incapaz de correr más rápido que ella con aquellas piernas. Ella es peligrosa. Por que no te necesita. Hay sólomente una de ella, y tantos de ustedes. Ella te iniciar en su culto, y le daras gracias. Colgaras de su telaraña por dias, agradecido. No habrá

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-26713960718084105572011-08-21T17:36:00.000-07:002011-11-04T02:30:20.022-07:00

"La luna me dice una cosa. Las estrellas me dicen otra."- Los Lobos what the psychic said, was to let you be. That I was into you more, more than you were into me. That you would be with him for a long time. So, I let you be. But what the streetlight said is to Go! what the pen said again and again is your name. what the fire said is to not get burned. what the feet said is to dance

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-19147294749004651872011-08-19T04:37:00.000-07:002011-09-20T04:29:39.455-07:00

When I walk down the streets of Los Angeles at night, I avoid eye contact, and trouble. Once, a man came walking in the  the opposite direction. tattoos covered his face, like evil clown's makeup. Tattoos telling me everything I need to know about who he is, and where he has been. He tells me, I am a handsome man. With no time to reflect on the statement I thank him.. When another

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-85130966078621198592011-08-19T04:26:00.000-07:002011-11-04T01:06:18.864-07:00

The laundry mat is always full. washing machines massive blocks of white cubes. Islands in a sea of color. The mismatched dressed patrons of the laundry mat, look like pirates. Captains of their laundry carts. They hang brassieres, bed sheets, and stained work clothes on the carts like sails on a ship. Fighting off one another, waiting to strike, taking the dryer like plunder. While the

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-73001871826543064472011-08-19T03:57:00.000-07:002011-08-19T19:19:42.111-07:00

He was yelling at them. Barking out orders to small athletes, as they pretend to be football players. He yelled at them with so much anger, it was verging on hatred. like a drunken father, planting fear. Some cried, it only angered him more. I felt I needed to do something. This is not the way to make men. These small athletes, still boys, will learn not to cry. They will learn to be

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6221707.post-61909442522433183092011-08-19T03:29:00.000-07:002011-08-19T04:04:43.773-07:00

She once told me she needed to be nicer to people nonsense. She was one of the nicest people I knew. That was,  until I needed her to be nicer to me. I  tried to understand her like a book. She closed her cover before i got half way. before i could figure out how it was going to end... But she was, who she said she was. She may be a little fucked up, but at least she's not a liar. 11'

nefariousxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08048889415064088768noreply@blogger.com0