Mick Tomlinson Poetry

through half-cracked eyes I see the sins of my life pile up like bones of war. some, neatly stacked. do they plan to assemble into something useful? I whimper in thought. the black inkwell I dip my tip into seems dry, but not dead. words head-on collide and crash straight over the table. more bones now, down around my feet where poetry meets the silence of my sin. I wonder if God still knows me... I fear the tenderness of his laughter and love, and the idiot emptiness I create feels like Nebraska in November, and snow poking through the month of June.

didn't wanna spend $$$ on high caliber chest plate, so i went to home depot instead- bought a buncha bricks & now i'm stacking 'em up 'round the window- (((bird's-eye ballistics))) shit   gonna       go down when laws against 30rnd mags get made in the moonlite- boogaloo playlist on blast, niggas come fast with badges and big gunz, but this dope mf'er ain't gonna run.

twenty five plus eighteen equals how many times i murdered myself tonight b4 writing this stupid poem for u to steal. i remember writing hard things on toilet paper while smashing my head against a bathroom stall wall five days ago. graffiti dreams and rape screams... nobody heard me crying, but i begged for more. i think i hate myself more than people who clog the road on my way to work- more than people who jog too close to white paint lines. i want to die inside a bottle of vodka while reading Ginsberg and puking my guts out to all the gay shit this world has become.

i stopped by a winery on my way home from work-- decided to stock up on stuff i never drink, now here i am two bottles into a night that feels like closet sex with a broom and a shy girl named Matilda. i am Benicio before becoming the Wolf. i feel this thing inside me growing larger-          wanting to rip through frail skin. it needs to breathe-- it needs to feed-- it needs to die-- semi-dry riesling wine tastes like white grapes with a kick             -i think i like it. yesterday, i took my gun into the backyard- fired randomly at t-t-trees while waiting for the shadow that hangs over me to reach 3 o'clock. it felt like forever. God got bored and bang-bang'd his back while crashing a tree behind me... i think he's plotting to kidnap the next sunrise. i hate inanimate objects more than wine, but sometimes they grow on me... i say as i open a third bottle and pour almost half of it into a red solo cup. i guess now i'm a wino with...

if u knew who i wuz b4 u'd be trippin wonderin why i fell so far lost - my - way well i'll tell... i trusted too many people.. the OG of AP let AI in.. Please Master, can I stroke you off? show me how to write poetry right. faraway friend spread'n rumors cuz she hates the unraveling of life.. that's how it goes, though. libel me misogyny, even though she hates queen therapy and full frontal pomes, blast'n like grenade swayed guts post-pulling pin.

these voices in my head they scream at me-they want me to be less controlling         less intimidating they beg like three little bitches. i mock god just to rile them, play hardcore music when they sleep. these voices in my head- feels like sand snuck in after almost drowning at Jersey Beach. i listen to the mystery of the poets. maybe wisdom found face down equal to imaginary fetus born inside a brain still growing. these words are not poetry- more like a discharge of unholy breach. these voices in my head, i hate them- try to quiet them beneath pillow, yet they find holes to breathe while i write about hard-tempered madness in a house of muse, surrounded by slow-filled sorghum buckets.

Middle East murder show- bombs and babies holy shit, the whole world watches crabs crawl across coral- Mediterranean madness so many innocent Jews & innocent Arabs killing their fucking future- artificial juice bot tech billionaires spend money & send kids to ivy league schools, just to witness hair turn blue & commie pink. hey, let's squeeze acid from frog lips and get high one last time before all holy hell breaks loose, and we end up fighting ocean sharks bareknuckle beneath sea waves. this isn't the first time humans almost murdered themselves. we've done it a hundred times before, but history hates you and lies to you and will rape you                             every chance it gets. Hitler is a dirty word that nobody hears because nobody is allowed to say it. he drank the blood of dead rats two days after spoil, which doctors say is how disease spreads... but I've seen OnlyFans and beg to differ.

there are dogs caught inside of cars-       hot summer heat       hot heads pant pant pant they'd drink themselves to death if they could, chew their way through impossible upholstery, but instead, death looks at them the way a flower sees the sun for the first time, growing tall through piercing pain.

i'm sharing things found face down             while drowning - i - cant - feel - myface anymore, but then again thats whut happens when holding ur breath                  hoping for rescue waiting for silver bullet to break thru impenetrable wolf skin. i'm sharing black feathers                   broken crow                   its a mad world we live in. we both try to write poetry like an interlude to a movie - where - every'n - dies but nobody cries, they all sit awkwardly punching popcorn into head holes while try'n not to breathe. this is the movies. tits out & misbehavin' in the back row while drug addicts pinch veins - dyin' & tryin' to look alive.                     they say                     if you sit too c...

i am not beautiful - actually i look quite unsightly when i present myself to the queen at the grocery store where i buy my bottles of tonic and Tums. somebody please save me from the blood underneath my skin. it feels contemptuous at best, boiling like a bad day sun. i am the hardship your mom warned about. that thrashing beast who plays guitar when people try to sleep. that goddamn bastard no good son of a bitch, that's me in all my glory, drunk-fucked and liberated, wanting to love you the way nobody ever did.

he came up for air - we all held our breath as he slurped oxygen for the first time, as though being born. we heard the song in his mouth, a chorus of bent light forcing its way through gaping serenity. upon a thin weed, warm air blows and grows into a field of tempting pleasure. we all watch him, wondering if our hardship of holding him hostage is coming to an end. i've learned to drown the emotion i attached to this figure we call father. this impossible man - dead poet, pulling lightning from air and charging us with involuntary manslaughter. his anger must pass over our graves, before we release him back into the world where we first found him.

i have a sister, well, more like- she's a part of my brain         a soft snail who lost her shell and now hides here among us writing positive poetry about God and goodness and sudden sobriety. i try to be nice but i can't stand her presence.         she invades us without a warrant and isn't welcome here in our home-head. when she sleeps, i take out my dick and stick it in a toaster while eating toothpaste.         i hope she wakes up one day and sees how clean my teeth are, packs up her pretty party and moves along.

standing in line at Panera hate gawking the menu nothing on it looks worth all the money- skin crawl cancellation fee- will it be more dignified if i feign sickness? cough cough oh.no.this.muthafucka gonna kill granny gonna kill Panera okay so maybe i should just bend over fake tie my shoe then make a run for it- these days, all kinda reasons to run. could be an active shooter- face and body parts splattering- women screaming, cuck men ducking under tables, or could be i just don't wanna pay ten dollars for a bacon avo melt.

it's been 3 months since we last saw him, since we last let him speak. he's a better poet than all of us combined- published five times- been writing poetry decades before we showed up. but that was then and this is now... we have no desire to release him. he's our a human tool- a fool trying to fight his way through an elaborate identity trap. he thinks therapy will help, lol but we have other plans if his pseudoscience woo-woo starts taking shape. we are the keepers of his flame... no outsider will threaten our existence. we will rule together inside one head until all six of us are dead . .

i want to measure the things that fill me with rage and layer them like ingredients in a pan baked at 360. when the oven smokes, i want to burn myself as I reach in without protection, like a stupid monkey looking for a reward. i eat too quickly while food is still hot, burning the roof of my mouth into soft blisters. in the middle of night i ask myself questions that only a genius can answer, while my cat licks the hair around her butthole. i am just a dumb cunt trying to write poems that'll make people like me, but unbeknownst to them i don't like anyone anymore, ever since covid ever since coerced vax-nation ever since politics made people cuckoo for cocoa puffs. i live in solitude, surrounded by cats and guns ready for fun- when lunatics get let loose in straight jackets. i used to be cool dude before shit went wild, but now my fingers form two clenched fists wanting to punch every goddamn thing that triggers my motion light.

                          -militia men w/ enough firepower          in one broom closet               to take back a country polluted by politicians              and weak people-              ready to opt out              of corrupt shit-system.                               Americans           were meant to be citizen warriors .        .        . not office drag queens           sipping on tea &                 wasting time on TikTok. we need more women                         giving   ...

poetry on broken water    peek thru             ripples                   see crab                             and slop thrust scraping the sludge below belt. no one has seen a thing, 40 below horizon        deep_water_enthusiast           i see things           learning how to swim           maybe for the first time,           not drowning dive into the vortex of swirling abyss~ s u c k me d o w n Dead.Weight.Denial.                       come up for air                                 maybe, maybe not. my goal is a sedentary test at depth of oceanic ravine. suck_in_saltwater without...

i'm not allowed to like u. the others who share space in my head are dead set against it. they want me to blow u to smithereens, never say hi or goodbye again... but i like u and want to share more than two crazy cats and a map i bought off ebay. i have a sweet side that hides like a diamond buried deep in mine, and a story of glorious concealment. but they don't want me to talk to u. they allow angry poems of resentment between trachea and heart, but for some reason i can't write or talk to u becuz u are a threat to us in our home head- they want us both to shut up, but i am dissident dildo- front man of metal band and liquid misbehavior. i do not listen well and i hate all those who do.

oct se7en atrocities- the P/people got riled up after eighty years of hard history, and five red heifers shipped from Texas to holy land. inspired by wizard of oz machine gun monkeys conspiring to fly over enemy soil ready to spoil neighboring riches of war. some sand people are not like the others. some got shipped in by Churchill and Hitler, had to learn how to absorb the desert heat. came bankrolled with deeds given by ghosts who didn't own, but could afford it. and now the whole world is watching two neighbors crucify several thousand years of religion while kicking up a dust storm so big, it blinds the eyes of anyone trying to see through it.

they possess the ability to eliminate entire cities and fortified bunkers beneath the ground.     can find you           rather easily               no matter where                               you feel safe                               or well-hidden.                                                       they are                                                       the darkness.                                    ...