Tag Archives: fame

The Swindler

you’re not

allowed to be

surreptitious

raise all the

stakes, but act

so suspicious
.

this game’s

quite easy, but

you always lose

your words are so

rich, but you’re

not even famous

.

you’re not

allowed to be

sanctimonious

the world turned

away, and now

you’re too callous

.

hang your head

low, the shame

comes in chorus

we see you for what

you are—nothing

but ridiculous.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

You’re All Phases And Dark Sides Like The Moon, But You’re Not As Bright (I Would Turn This Into An Extended Play But My Band Hates Me, I Have Mediocre Musical Talent, And No Record Label To Beg)



Phase One: I Don’t Know About You But I’m Ready To Move To San Diego(‘s Disneyland© Theme Park and Resort)

[EXTRACT: WE DO IT IN THE DARK WITH SMILES ON OUR FACES
WE’RE DROPPED AND WELL-CONCEALED IN SECRET PLACES
W E  D O N ‘ T  F I G H T  F A I R]

To all the divorcees in the dancefloor

Singing songs for poor dumped hearts

Won’t you come and take a million pictures

Of my latest 100 billboard-hit chart?

I’m not famous, but I’m on your magazine

Load up the ammunition baby, take it in

The articles say that I’ll save your life

But all I’ll do is steal your brain-bored wife

So I don’t give a shit about your ideal weekends

But buy my merch, I’ll be your best friend

And don’t pretend you’ll just forget about me

When I’m bitching about how everything’s a travesty…



Phase Two: She’s Got A 10 PM Audition Starring At The Back of A Costco Store

[EXTRACT: I’LL KEEP YOU WARM AND WON’T ASK WHERE YOU’VE BEEN
WITH YOUR BACKLESS BACK DRESS SOAKED TO THE SKIN
W H E N  A L L ‘ S  S A I D  A N D  D O N E  T H E Y ‘ R E  S C R A M B L I N G]

West coast smokers choking to death

And a trashy nosebleed is good for the health

Kiss it hard in the back alley like a desperate man

Blow out your sixteen candles with a gun

(and paint the town an ugly shade of party-red)

.

You’re all grown up and ready to waste a week

Looking for a dive bar to drown shots cheap

But the boys never liked you, Mr. Barman

Now won’t you sleep this out again with no one?

(the insults are only as bad as good guys get)

.

I swear I won’t swear, my mouth is clean

I go to church on Sundays and I’m never mean

I swear I won’t swear, I know that it’s all true

Your secrets are all worthless but at least I’ve got you—

(completely wrapped around my finger)



Phase Three: Warm Sympathy Is Just Cold Sarcasm For Wimps

[EXTRACT: I KNOW YOU’VE HEARD ALL THIS BEFORE
LET’S HEAR IT FOR AMERICA’S SWEETHEARTS
I  M U S T  C O N F E S S ,  I ‘ M  I N  L O V E  W I T H  M Y  O W N  S I N S]

I don’t love you at all but I love your therapy

You talk like you’re going deaf, so won’t you lie to me?

.

If it’s not about comforting then I wouldn’t even care

You look even messier today, did you do something with your hair?

.

I said I’d write a million poems about you but I got carpal tunnel

Just like how you said you’d give me a taste of first-class hell

.

We both smiled like a girl’s best friends, only it’s all fake

And we didn’t believe we could mine such coal-black mistakes

.

I don’t love you at all but you scare the devil out of me

But I wouldn’t call you an angel, don’t you just love my honesty?



Phase Four: Children’s Nursery Rhymes Are Really Letting Themselves Go These Days

[EXTRACT: MY SONGS KNOW
WHAT YOU DID IN THE D A R K
S O  L I G H T  ‘ E M  U P]

I ‘ l l  S T U M P  y o u ,  I ’ l l  S T U M P  y o u

I ’ m  a m a z i n g  w i t h  i d i o t ’ s  s y n c r a s i e s

I ’ l l  s T u M p  y o u ,  I ’ l l  S t U m P  y o u

I ’ m  a m a z i n g  i f  y o u ’ l l  a s k  m e  t o  b e

I ’ l l  s t u m p  y o u ,  u o y  p m u t s  l l ‘ I

M y  n a m e ’ s  n o t  P a t r i c k  b u t  b a b e ,  I ’ m  a  s t a r

B u t  i f  y o u  t h i n k  t h a t  t h i s  j o k e ’ s  g o i n g  t o o  f a r

T h e n  I ’ l l  d u m p  y o u ,  I ’ l l  D U M P  y o u .



Phase Five: If My Brain Could Actually Think For Itself, What Would It Say?

[EXTRACT: IF I COULD GET MY SHIT TOGETHER
I WANNA RUN AWAY AND NEVER SEE ANY OF YOU AGAIN
N E V E R  S E E  A N Y  O F  Y O U  A G A I N]

I’m

                    too

fucking

                             tired

           for

                                               all

       this

                                                                 bullshit.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

The Death Of Me

3-2-1 We came to fuck
Everybody party till the gasman comes
Sparkle like Bowie in the morning sun
And get a parking violation on La Brea till it’s done
Hair back, collar up, jet black, so cool!
Sing it like the kids that are mean to you!

~*~

There is this tacit agreement within these hospital halls

An echoing of secrets bouncing off the sordid tiled walls

The telly, tabloids, radios, they’re all straining to eavesdrop

A sensational press release to be taken with Ritalin drops

.

The news at eleven is blatting their usual bullshit and nonsense

Your scowling mugshot showing on every black and white prints

Calculated analysis pours in, idiot savants paying their two cents

Highfalutin judgement via observing your colourless eyes’ stints

.

You ask for more oxygen, instead they provided methane

Burning embers flare with every pained breath you inhale

A skeletal hand reaches out, a last damaged angel reverie

“I’ll miss you honestly, but you’re gonna be the death of me.”

.

Stay still on the Dekapote, let’s test out your anatomy

And dissect the postmortem of your decaying sanity

But it’s not penicillin that is curing ails in elimination

It’s your synthetic test lab love’s biohazard radiation

.

There’s something to be said about the pills we consume

A soupçon of this, a little panacea, inhaled asthma fumes

It’s destroying your baby girl, ingénue rendered quondam

Repeat Rx, errant pharmacy alibis, drink until ad nauseam

.

So fly across the turnpike, hold tight, increase maximum velocity

We have an expiration date chasing us, so let’s indulge in alacrities

My rented heart has four chambers, but none with an open vacancy

I’m sorry, but don’t you see? You’re gonna be the death of me

.

It leaked to the media, their most darling charismatic starlet

Accrued some terrible habits, a degrading scandalous mess

She’s gone mad, she’s insane, I’ll bet it’s all that pure cocaine

Conspirators pass the rumours around like shots of codeine

.

But who cares? Let’s smile at the camera and dance like tumbleweeds

Annihilate the festering bourgeoisie that writ[h]e and sic[k] and f[r]eed

If it’s ingestible, it’s presentable, but let’s break this rhapsodic melody

If they think who’s who is gonna be, then who’s who’s the death of me

.

Just take out those glory guns of yours, embrace that cool revolver

Fuck what all the haters say my dear, you’re this generation’s solver

Red flags of vendetta and anarchy, you lead this boulevard’s parade

Pulling at my dislocated hand to listen to the public effigy you paid

.

It burgeons and blots away, a failing prototype of human nature’s stumbling runs

Mortalities ain’t for centuries anyhow, so in the meantime, let’s have unlimited fun

A suicide pact for two idiotic lovers, hell, why not? We’re gonna die anyways, baby!

Set me free, let me be, I’m crazy, don’t you see honey? You’re gonna be the death of me!

~*~

When you wanna be a movie star
Play the game and take the band real far
Play it right and drive a Volvo car
Pick a fight at an airport bar
The kids don’t care if you’re all right honey
Pills don’t help but it sure is funny
Gimme gimme some of that vampire money
Come on!

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

The Jester

Forcing me upon monkey suits and contriving me to entertain

I try to say so otherwise but my complaints are all in vain

They shoot guns at my feet, to make me do a silly dance

Threaten me with scarlet tomatoes to ensure absolutely no defiance

.

Dignity for decadence, ego for fifteen minutes of fame

A couple tastes of crystal sugar for a supply of lifetime shame

Masks upon masks plastered crudely, thick makeup to hide my frown

Am I still a human being or just another rundown clown?

.

They say to take one for the team, they tell me I’m unfair

When they’re the one making me dangle my nobility on a strand of hair

I wish no more, this life of jests and pie and mockery thrown to my face

Next time you catch me, I’ll be walking slowly towards the end of my life race.

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized