I Love Books! I Love my Library! I Love Librarians (Kind of)!

Now, the librarians notice me

and their German Shepherds get between me and the bookshelves.

They are feminist nazis with service dogs,

blue-haired lesbians without partners.

I walked confidently to my books on hold…

“Your stuff is taking up too much space,” she said.

I adjusted my face

to the voice

and smiled.

“I like to learn stuff.”

“Oh—that’s all good and well, but how many of those books can you read at the same time?”

“You’d be surprised,” I said. “I like to have orgies with them.”

Her jaw dropped.

She hadn’t made love to a book

since 3rd grade.


I Edit with my Human Pen

I pound my rusty philosophy into the counselor’s head

like a bent nail, and smile.

He can’t believe

I said that.

“You’re going to die.

I’m going to die.

Do you still want to listen to kids?”

Sleepless nights make me honest

and when this happens, I make him suicidal

because he stops and thinks

about his pointless life.

I’ve been having this reoccurring conversation with my mother…

“I need to do something great!” I shouted.

“I need to be a golfer

a music composer

a writer

I haven’t accomplished anything yet!”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” she said. “Live in a beautiful place with nice people—that might be the secret to happiness.”

“I don’t want to be happy! I want meaning!”

I talked to my friend

who is trying to escape his controlling girlfriend


each time he tries to break up with her

she gets closer to his heart,

and sharpens her knives.

“She’s a trap,” I warned.

“But she’s beautiful.”

Reality is as raw as a human heart

that might get eaten.

Distractions present themselves

like beautiful virgins in white satin sheets

and I remain calm and celibate

with creative juices

leaking onto the page

while I edit

with my human pen.

If a Man Wants to be a Boss…

I’ve been told

that there are some people

who don’t reflect

(kind of like vampires)

but the kind I’m talking about

is the thinking variety.

I love to reflect

on my little triumphs

throughout the day, like how so and so

got really emotional,

and challenged me

and brought my competence into question

but how I didn’t react

and simply discussed procedure.

Being boring is an Artform

that I practice

more than I write poetry.

Nobody wants to engage with a boring person—

it doesn’t do anything for their ego.

When my boss wants to take my side, and gossip about my colleagues with me

I calmly pretend that I don’t understand (because gossip doesn’t interest me)

I don’t get emotional and judge her

I just don’t care

99% of the people I work with are women

I used to participate in their conversations with feigned interest

until one of them said, “We turned you into a woman. You are just like us.”

It was then,

that I realized

I couldn’t have anything to do with them.

If a man wants to be superior,

he must act like it.

Women with boring lives

want a reaction.

If a man wants to be a boss,

he must dress like it,

and talk like it (as little as possible).

My Purpose in Writing Schoolboy Poetry

I feel guilty

when my friend tells me

I’m writing for fame.

On a good day

I believe him.

On a bad day

I know it’s not true.

I began writing

to make sense of things.

It turned into a purpose

that nobody can take away from me.

It has grown

from a big baby

into a clumsy child,

who enjoys writing schoolboy poetry.

If I don’t invent a purpose for my life,

somebody else will, and that is a living hell.

Aphorisms on Letting Go


the end of a book can be satisfying

so that you want to read it over and again

or it can be disappointing

so that you throw it across the room—

I think life is that way.


My mother asked me, “Why didn’t you hang-out with anybody in high school?”

My response: “Because there was nobody there.”


I meet unpleasant people, all the time

They say, “Good Morning.”

It’s pleasant not to be around them.


I got published, recently

and now, when I read my poetry

to my mother (God Bless Her)

she hangs on every word.

This is what it must be like

to be a New York Times Best Selling Author.


The best feeling in the world

is not to care—

to look at what you have

and not feel any special attachment to it

to look at your life

and let it go

to look at your goals

and realize

that it’s not important that you get there.


How many people know what they want?

they think they know,

but it’s usually what someone else knows.


I’ve made an effort

not to be important.

People learn that I’m not important

and leave me alone.

It’s the most beautiful peaceful feeling

like a field full of daisies.


I find it amusing

that the most out-of-control people

try to control those around them

and they can’t.

There is a life lesson in that.


The most pleasurable insights

are the ones that make me free

that allow me to erase my hypocrisy.

Most people acquire wisdom to show it off

they say, “I am so wise.”

They want to teach others, rather than teach themselves.

Soul Enemies

I rest in the dark with the rain outside

and know that there are three enemies…


is a gun

with your name on it


is the dark horned one

who will give you something

for your soul


is the most common

like smoking, which kills so many

and blackens

the lungs—

the slow killing

of the soul.

It can’t be strangled

on the gallows

It can’t be crushed

under a car.

It can’t be shot

in the head.

It dies with a whimper

that the ears can’t hear.

It’s what happens to most people.

It’s your song

that gets re-recorded.

Your poem that gets erased

Your heart that only pumps blood.

The slow accumulation of laws

that don’t serve you.

The soul dies when it’s neglected

when it’s starved for food

when there is no fuel for the fire

no music for the song

The soul doesn’t have time to waste

it dies, if it doesn’t belong.

The soul walks into church

and knows it doesn’t live there.

The soul listens to other souls

and becomes sick.

The soul sees the invisible genocide,

and knows that love is blind,

because even murderers have mothers.

In the humblest conditions

the soul keeps us warm

and allows the body to sleep


The soul looks at madness

beyond its comprehension

and for a companion

without much luck.

The soul looks for a kindred soul

in books


and the agonies of the martyrs.

Aphorisms on Being a Male Mathematician When Women Don’t Add Up 


Often, the sum of a man’s ambition doesn’t add up

because a woman gets in there

and mixes up

his numbers.


Being a pure mathematician

allows a man to do whatever he wants.

There are no contracts or guarantees

no security

A woman needs that

All a man wants is what a woman can give him

sex, sex, sex

food, food, food

love, love, love


Modern men want to get married, but marriage doesn’t exist anymore

because feminists killed it

with sexual liberation

career obsession

and self-love.


What happened to the primitive man?

He went to the woods and got a dog.


The modern woman doesn’t know how to cook, love, or enjoy sex.

She believes that she enjoys sex, because she has as much as a man,

but she feels like a used receptacle, unloved, like a candy wrapper

thrown away.

Society tells her that she is liberated when she blames a man,

but her only liberation is to take responsibility.


Men learn who they are when they are without women.

Women go crazy without men.

Don’t believe me? Look at the modern woman.


Men have lost their way because they are chasing women.

Women are always lost

because they follow the crowd.


In Modern times,

men act like women to get with women,


women act like men to get with men.

It doesn’t work.

Aphorisms on “Being Deep” like a Landfill


“You’re deep,” she said, “but most girls are superficial. You need to dress better.”

She buried me alive

with one compliment.


People engage in conversation

to fill the silence

with empty words

to dress themselves up with language

that is utterly deceptive.

I engage in conversation to understand what is not being said.


Beauty has value

in an ugly world.


We lie to others

without saying anything.


Professionals prostitute themselves for money

without giving any thought to who they will become.


When a wise man spends year after year

in reflection, meditation, and reading

and realizes the limits to his understanding

he is horrified by politicians

who have

all the answers.


It takes too much anxiety

to hold onto intangibles—

these are perceptions and opinions.

If a person tells me,

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

and I give him a lecture on what I do know

it will only confirm his opinion.


A wise man cultivates peace—

unconcerned by opinions and perceptions

He acknowledges them, but nothing more.


If a man tells me,

“You don’t know anything.”

and then I proceed to tell him what I do know,

I am a fool.

We place too much emphasis on facts

and not enough on what we know.

We place too much emphasis on pictures

and not enough on who we know.


I like to watch popular people

doing what they need to do

to maintain their popularity—they are slaves.

It’s my party.


Being seductive is an Artform

It is the opposite of neediness

People are being seduced

all the time

by garbage

because they have a great big hole inside themselves that they fill, like a landfill.

A whole person

is extremely rare


extremely seductive.

It’s Bad

it’s bad

when the mind can’t stop thinking about sex

waking up at 2 AM, writhing on the mattress

the mind knows

that the transmutation of sex

is power

so it refuses to give in.

I wonder if Catholic Priests have this kind of strength

(It’s doubtful)

Most religious leaders talk a good game

but they cheat

in secret.

I think about asking coffee baristas, “How much money would it cost?”

I could brace-up against their answers.

Depending on what the girl with the nose ring and tattoos said,

I might have to load my trank gun.

If there is no game on the trail (girls in sports bras),

I might have to shoot myself.

Bramns was forced to play the piano in a bordello

when he was 12.

He was a delicate boy

with feminine features

and the girls who entertained sailors

pulled his pants down

and excited him. He was traumatized,


remained celibate for the rest of his life.

Guess why he became a genius?

Nature walks across my apartment Naked


did something strange

to men and women

or maybe just men

(I’m writing from the male perspective, or maybe just my own perspective, which seems to offend most people.)

There’s this girl I’ve been obsessed with for 7 years

She just became single again.

I know all of the red pill rules,

but rationality quickly gets thrown out the window, like a hotdog.

She’s aggressive, and proud of it.

The last three men told her, “No.”

Now, I hope to be number 4, but I’ve never been good enough for her.

She’s rejected me over 5 times.

I fantasize about us being married

and watching her walk across my apartment naked.

Unfortunately, nature has compromised my mind.


tries to get in the way of bad decisions,

but even that doesn’t work.

She’s my Zelda

Zelda was crazy

Scott wrote the Great Gatsby.

I call my friend and say, “I have to write a master work, man.”

There’s a pause… he thinks I’m delusional.

The practical woman

doesn’t do it for me.

The safe and sane woman makes me bored

I need a dangerous woman

who will potentially wreck my life.

There’s somebody out there for everyone.