the outlaw poetry network – home for unread? poetry

Matthew James  O’Brien

Love Letter

heart shaped cum-dumpster
your hair smells like seventeen dollar wine
it shines louder than your baby talk voice
smacking down the halls of this rotting Victorian.
paper mache glamour scissored out and stuck to your pink wall

and so they cum
hammering you to pieces
18 to 24 and now the 30’s
Your eyes piss tears while they watch and pretend to listen

you said so many times
” I like it ”
You don’t know what you like anymore

just wrap your lipstick smile around that snake
and whisper “yes sir” through the blood fogged spit

daddy’s little girl is about to graduate

After hours

We sat in the brownish booths on top of torn vinyl
Drinking pale moonlight from the shattering glasses
The ceiling ducts rattled on and on
about record needles cutting into tin men and their rusty old maids
I stared at the dirt under my fingernails
Must be a week or two old
I looked up to see the waitress standing over me
Fragile as an un-watered flower
Abortion scars wrapped in black lint
Thin lipped with a nervous smile
She was beautiful to me
In her left hand was a small note pad
I imagined it full of wishful failures and short order prayers
A letter to god that was sent but not received
“What’ll it be?”
Reaching down I felt the outside of my copper filled pockets
“Just coffee for me”
I’ve lost five or ten pounds in these last few months
Spending days dreaming and evenings weeping
If it weren’t for the rain I’d be a streetwalker
And if weren’t for the sun I’d be a drifter
I wonder if she’ll let me read the murders from her eyes
I’ll ask her next time she comes around.
“check please”
I laid down my copper and walked out

dog-like pig

you might hear us on your block
juvenile wisdom drooling from busted lips
crass logic, prolific obscenity, cover your eyes and ears
This room is a catch all
ashtray and garbage pale, and I’ll sink so low with that gap tooth smile
colors of grey and hassle green vomit
in that cauldron, serving up the best of the worst
We’ll live on scraps, and run for miles, over rising dust
This sunrise has a sarcastic smile, a thieves shining diamond
Old shoes, held by glue, with the dirt of a thousand ghost towns
Stomp them clean, in that greasy spoon parking lot
One way down faster than the worst cancer
Where all the true black and blue bastards stick together
With our dirty fingers under couch cushions
Finding a wishing well of nickels and dried bubble gum
enough though
For today is one of many for this dog-like pig
and my tongue maybe as black as my soul
but when I put it in her mouth she spread her thighs and let me in
we rolled in afternoon disease under motel sheets
I still have a piece of her under my fingernails
until I lick them clean, as clean as they’ll get

Matthew O’Brien Confession Urinal (a self summery)

I’m the burning sensation when you piss
I’m the girl next door that rips your heart out of your ass
I’m your daddy’s fingers down your pants
I’m all the lies you’ve ever heard
I’m the eyes tearing up

I sleep beside the water heater next to unpacked boxes
ready to run ready to burn

I’m the dream that woke you sweating rusty water and stained the sheets
I’m the love struck troubadour with a wife-beating plumber living under his skin
I’m the cancer that goes undetected until the final stages
I’m your fourth cup of black coffee staining your teeth and ruining your erection
I’m the VHS stuck in the machine with tape tangled and clenched to the metal guts
I’m 30 years old and unemployed
I’m 30 and unmarried

I’m your compass syringe dragging dog-collar throats through the lost and never found
I’m the Sunday church bells that remind you you’re all alone
I’m the heart throbbing youth balding and fading into convalescent graves
I’m here for a while and then I’m gone

some related articles are listed below:

1. matthew james o’brien | three poems
2. james campbell | fulfillment? & this is not about torture
3. james campbell | so i’m weeding this garden
4. james campbell | it: or, to punch another child in the face
5. hosho mccreesh | elmore james | buddy guy