Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Mr. Black Suit Clown

Photo by Daw8ID from Pixabay
He wears a dark black suit
White pale face
Crazy funny make up
Eye liner
Distorted face expressions
Making fun of me
Looking at me, through me
Making see me see everything
Ticking time bomb
Ticking in my head
Ticking in everything that I see
He comes and goes
He wears a classy black suit
Paleface, balding
Scary wide eyes
Staring at me
Scary wide dying eyes
Not blinking
Laughing and mocking me
What’s coming for me?
Classy black suit
Tie and everything
White shirt and dark gestures
Grinning malice, clinging to me
How did he follow me?
A clown in a black suit sitting on my couch
Looking at me, through me
Laser eyes piercing my soul
Crazy man in my head, in my space
He comes at night
He makes noises and shadows dance around him
Measuring me
My mind is a bomb
Fuck you clown in black
I have a nice suit too

Sunday, April 16, 2017


Photo by TheoJunior on Flickr
I'm living in a whirlpool of fools
and tricky

I heard overheard conversations
and daring

I fell inside a black hole
and addictive

Why do I feel sleepy?
Why do I sleep?

Conversations do kill like a torpedo
low blows
I'm on a boat
can't get to the coast
I am no longer afloat

Why do I feel sleepy?

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Sweet and Low

Photo by you me from Flickr

One day I remember you were
standing on your feet and that you
took a dive

On your way down you did not
know it was so deep so you
started to shine

Your skin glowing
your aura in my mind
and that was all you did since

I let you go from my side
‘cause you went down
deeper than I

Now, I think about you
and that dive you took
your spiral delight

Sometimes sweet and low is
enough for you
to get by

Because anything you do
would always make you slip
in a grand sweet way

Monday, April 3, 2017

Horndog Inc.

Photo by Barbara 871013/6 from Pixabay

Bleached blond mop like a cast, stiffly walking with a set of cans;
Twirl, flowered, patterned threads that make her dress sublime;
Blue hazel eyes that glance over to my overblown fly,
and ambiguous vibes that fuels my ride like a funky jive.

Note: This poem is from my book called Hello Mr. Satan, You're an Idiot! Check it out!

Sunday, April 2, 2017


Photo by Dar'ya Sip from Flickr
Smoking in a room full of faces
My train derails and now
I’m in a melted picture
Screaming voices, natural poses,
intoxicated roses
My soul stinging
and I sit shooting glassy gazes
My aura doesn’t shine
I need a new fixture
Dropping names,
taking all the blame,
never sought fame

Smoking my soul with a bunch
of whispering howls
My train with no brakes
and now I’m just made of crystal
Ready to shatter, no one is flattered,
taking no matter
Shaking my head I sit taking gazes
This mutual relation needs
a new medium
Dropping my vices to help out
my friend gazing in the mirror

Wednesday, March 29, 2017


Photo wemer22brigette from Pixabay

Look at that Pinto
Old paint, new wheels, stopping
and going
Going where?
Look at that Mercedes bitch
What a snob that lady
She likes that
She digs the attention in a place
where there's absence
Your mind, right?
It's absent
In the rearview mirror
way back
A girl is looking
Looking good and naked
Wow, what a slutty make up job!
What a sleaze!
I’ll slow down in this locomotive disaster
I want to see her sunflower rapture lush
Oh, my hot rod!
What a rush!
And damn the freeway
can't slow down
can't speed
can't dream
can't cheat
This finger flicking, smog inhalant,
lung butter hocking, screaming
mental institution
Only if Freud was here
That rat bastard killer machine
That monkey torturing loving freak
He would love the freeway
And what does he know about the psyche
We know
The freeway dwellers
Let's play God
let's battle
let's go to work
So we can make money to burn and pollute.
And shit
What a sunset!
A gold-brown synthetic sunset!
How beautiful!
How shameful!
Where are the mountains?
I can't see through the rusty sky
Where the gorillas go?
Look there hanging from the concrete jungle
Bleeding and dying those brutes
Why is that girl smiling?
Does she know about the Pinto's breath?
The poor lifeless green
What a mess
My isolation a distress
That mustang and that cougar
They're not the real offspring of nature
Just like the eclipse and the nova
Metaphor blunts
Let's shake it
rattle it
and roll it
You know God tried.
Damn the freeway!

if you would like to read more poetry like this, then click on the label below:
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Friday, March 24, 2017

5 Minute Love

Photo by geralt from Pixabay

A prosaic stripper sits next to me
(Raven is her name, at least in this game)
She says, “How would you like my dance honey?”
“Lustful and dirty,” I said with no shame.

Ten dollars I gave, her loving just raged,
her body a lust, my mind to be lost.
Pretending is the truth, the world a stage;
We destined to act, the soul is the cost.

It’s all right I say; we all have a mask
—at work, home, and in public we deceive;
And plastic smiles with hollow words we cast
To conform each other with wicked glee.

And before she flees like a sincere dove,
Our plastic smiles end our 5 minute love.

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Is God Narcissistic?

Photo by jill, jellidonut... whatever from Flickr
What if God was a narcissistic son of a bitch? Seriously, the everyday world and how it functions with people looking up to him is only obvious that God is truly narcissistic.
Let me just tell you how this idea came knocking into my inquiring mind. One day, I was on Facebook and saw a friend’s post about a cousin of hers who was involved in an accident. God bless her cousin!
Anyway, the cousin, according to the post, was in critical condition and was asking for prayers. Of course, everyone who had a good heart, including me, sent her a response stating that we put our two-cents into prayer worthiness.
My friend’s mission on Facebook, I guess, was to get everyone to pray and build this super-power, global accumulation of prayers to save her cousin. Not a bad idea!
Then, this idea popped into my head. Why do we pray for God to heal us when he or she put us on the hurt table in first place? Is this what God does? He or she purposely hurts you in order for you to start praying!?
Does that sound right? I can bring up this whole “divine plan” on how God designed it for all of us, to test us, etc. So, if a person is involved in an accident, it is safe to say that God meant that to happen—everything has a purpose right?
So, the more pain around the world, the more praying is involved. Imagine a world without pain. There would be no praying involved or necessary. That is why God needs pain in his universe for us to pray to him.
To make this point clear, that jerk smites and spreads evilness across this planet and our hearts so we can pray to him, her, or it for the attention. He or she loves the attention, so he almost forcefully demands through prayer. Is he or she that selfish?
If this doesn’t point out egocentrism in which God is totally saturated with his or her own power and vanity, I don’t know what else to say!
I know! Some will say that pain and suffering comes from the Devil! Well, Devil or not, God still lets that other egotistical asshole roam around causing problems, if the Devil’s agenda really existed. In the end, we still end up praying to God!
Anyway, please don’t be offended by my inquiring mind that is always looking for the answers. Sometimes, my mind searches too hard. I just like to stir up the water every once in awhile!
No big deal! We are all adults! We can handle it, right? If not, just pray to God!

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Nature the Cleanser

Nature is to be admired who makes a shrine out of this here asylum
Photo by Bazooka Teaches

Note: This is the shortest poem I’ve written so far in my career of creative writing. I wrote the poem when I used to go camping at the Kern River in California, by Lake Isabella. That was way back in the 1990s. Whenever I camped at the Kern, I felt like all of my problems went away. It was so therapeutic for me! I recently went back and it felt the same!
Anyway, the pic is from my trip to Zion Park in Utah back in 2008. Also, thanks for taking your time in reading this short poem, and I hope you enjoyed it. At least, I hope you enjoyed my picture! Oh yeah, if you like this poem, check it out my collection called Hello Mr. Satan, You're an Idiot! available in through Amazon.

Monday, March 6, 2017

Radical Thoughts

Photo from Pexels

In a crowd full of faces
where the sidewalk is falling apart
and the streets congested with dragsters

Nuns pray, priests portray maladjusted love,
and the citizen dick works his ass off to pay bills
while climbing hills

The crosshairs sit upon many of these faces
that dream to shine in the sky
but fated to burn in Hell

Note: I hope you enjoyed this poem that I wrote a long time ago while quite angry, Anyway...

Sunday, March 5, 2017

Utopian Abstract Love

Photo from Pexels
They say don't forget your jewels
when they take me;
And she with a withered look,
smiles but a tear flows.

They say not to look at the reflection of love
when you leave;
And he smiles away with a dirty photograph
in his pocket that smells.

She knows what they say; but still,
in profound anguish she welcomes the milkman.
They say don't forget your jewels
when they take me enclosed in that utopian photograph.
Written in early 2000s.
Note: Thanks for reading my poem and I hope you liked it. If you did, feel free to check out my profile for more readings. You can also check out my book Hello Mr. Satan, You're an Idiot! as well.

Saturday, March 4, 2017

Thank You

Photo by Lalesh Aldarwish from Pexels
Oh, how I wish to write you a song or a poem,
But I really don’t know how.
Your smile fills my mind when you are away,
But that makes me want you now.
Your hair, your eyes, I want to be yours and yours mine,
But I really don’t know why.
You know, I was once lost by a tall precipice,
And that made my possible fall more vulnerable.

I’d never thought I’d be found
My ride took a wrong turn.
I’d never thought I’d be around
Because, that God, I never really listened to him.

Oh, how I wish to write you a poem to thank you
For making me stay and sing this song.

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Squelching the Truth

Photo by OpenClipArt from Pixabay

“I’m the freedom of this wretched tomb,”
Said the fierce gunslinger that slaughtered authorities
“I’m the Beatniks, the Milton, the Shelley, the nutcracker little monkey”

The boy smiled at the gunslinger’s remarks
And told him, “I’m the future FBI, that’s why I’m here”
The boy’s crazy-Stephen-King-creepy smile continued
“I’m here to spoil your fun,” said the foul boy

The gunslinger stared

“I’m malice, and you have a truth that I must bring to demise”
Continued the cranky boy

They both drew their guns
The boy shoots the man square in the face

Note: Wrote this in early 2000s. I really do not remember what made me write this poem! Just enjoy it at least!

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Smoking Melancholy

Photo by maxknoxvill from Pixabay
I suck the bottle and breathe the stench 
I fill my lungs with melancholic smoke 
I’m filled with a careless sinful past 
I blow that smoke that cursed my lovely cares 
And watch the cruel world swirl like a deaf bat 

She walks on flowers like a shredded sharp dusty piece of glass 
She kisses my hands to make them feel real 
She sings flat notes that come from her lips 
And she drinks red wine that is filled with fear

Monday, February 27, 2017


Photo by stux from Pixabay
I’m walking down the street 
Where the sun is merely free 
And muddy puddles always 
Spraying me 
And the shops, 
their windows have my dreams 
But my feet just keep walking 
Because, of course, I need some money 
And some old dude looked at me 
And did not like what he had seen 
But he did not look away 
My dignity intact 
Because I wore those shirts, those pants 
Those ties and who cares 
If my shoes are not your type 
My shoes are not your type? 

I’m driving down the street 
And I see a woman merely free 
She makes me want it all 
And I ask her what she needs 
She says, “Oh, baby please” 
Like I did not have quality 
But her legs, her walk and her talk 
Just makes me want to bark 
But the money is all she really needs 
But I wore those shirts those fake smiles 
Still they make me feel like I’m not worth the while 
I’m not worth the while?

Sunday, February 26, 2017

Sabrina Sonnet

Photo by Stokpic from Pexels
Not having you near; a thorn in my mind
Hurting and swelling into painful screams
Memories of your kisses; my sweet wine
Your smile, your dancing are always my dreams

Your sparkling laughter, your voice with no fear
Your scents that envelop my thoughts, my skin
You make me ecstatic when I’m in tears
Away from you makes me feel like a sin
Grabbing your hands and your waist, secures my soul
Touching your lips, your love is heaven above
Your stare, your glare, your hair—a true love show
Away from you makes me long for your hugs
Kissing and holding you is all I need
Time makes our great dreams come true when we meet

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Perpetual Downcast Adoration

Photo by Lynn Greyling from PublicDomainPictures
She left leaving the room empty
to go breathe the desolate air of the ocean.
A colleague of deep blue with the golden sky
which does not happen often.
He went home leaving his head empty
to go breathe the infamous smokes of the liberalist faction.
Yellow and red lights reflect an image of a place where
isolation is only a ration.
"Hurry, Hurry," he thinks, "before my love is rotten"
An old man whistles away to a song once forgotten.
"Hurry, Hurry," he says, "before my love forgets you."
An old woman weeps away to a song she once knew.
She left leaving their place empty
to go sing the songs of the deep blue and golden hues.
He went home leaving his head empty
to go whistle a song known only to a few.
"Hurry, Hurry," he thought, "before my love becomes a sad song"
An old man and a weeping woman in unison sing a song.

If you like this poem, check out more by Bazooka here:

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Monday, February 20, 2017

Narcissistic Junkie

Photo by Tim Sheerman-Chase from Flickr
Out to be cool 
Drinking whisky and singing like a fool 
Prowling late and sinning with haste 
Reading secular pages and emitting bigotry 
Feel the ire by berating the humble 
Light the fire and walking on a wire 
Come here with fate and sing the sin anthem 
Only love yourself and like nothing else 
Think your standards are sublime and extend hate

If you like this poem, check out more by Bazooka Teachers with Amazon

Friday, February 17, 2017

Making Love At Her Parents'

Photo by McMenemy from Flickr 
Hush, we make love, we make love,
we make love.
Shhhhhh, we’re in love, we’re in love,
just a couple of doves.

We stop the love.

Listening to the empty air,
the house crackling,
the others breathing.

Imagining what the others think,
while a ring in my ears disguises
their snooping.

We take position and wait.

Again we continue our love disguised
in deep sleep position.


This is another old poem I wrote and is part of my first collection called Hello Mr. Satan, You're an Idiot! You can find the poetry book with Amazon

Monday, February 13, 2017

Lola's Advice

Photo by Kaboompics from Pexels
She had to go to a psychic 
to check on me 
to go see if her misery is an illusion 
or hear the bad man that I am 

She had to go to a psychic 
to prove something right 
so she can feel alright 
with her anguish real high 

She had to go tonight 
to spit on my hide 
to go step on my merriness 
illusions and insecurity 

She had to prove me wrong 
so she can sing a sad song 
while her anger 
is like a dull sharp spoon 

Lola said, “No” 
he’s just a Joe 
with a peculiar brow 
he’s a cloud not a doubt 

He is an intoxicated liberty

If you enjoyed this poem, enjoy more by Bazooka Teaches by clicking on this: Support independent publishing: Buy this e-book on Lulu.