Thank you for Matching
the Tinder Call Center.
My name is Nick and I will be helping you with your order today.
And your name is?

Hello, Port Veritas

I'm so glad you called
because you do qualify
as one of the first 100 people
I find attractive!

So Where are you from?
Oh Wow, I've never been there,
you ever Been here to Bull Feeney's?

No? Well look at that,
I guess we've never been
too each others places before.
Hah!

Looks like we have something
in common.

What was it on my profile that got you interested in swiping right?
Oh I see, you like love poems,
you like new ****,
you just wanna make everyone cry.

How long have you been interested in that?
Wow that's a long time.

What else have you tried
to hear love poems,
see new ****
and make people cry?

Wow that's...

that's kinda ****** up Port Veritas.

That's really ****** up.

What's the worst part about dealing with that?
I see, well I'm glad you called.

Tell me a bit
why it's important
to do something about this now;
it's a little different for everyone.

I see, it's Valentine's day. There's a valentines open mic and LOVE SLAM Tonight!

I'm just gonna ask a couple quick questions to see if you qualify,

Will you all answer them for me?

Do You want **** poetry?

**** poetry IS the best sticky note to receive in your eighth grade lunch box

Do you want Radical Self Love?

me too, let's keep looking

Do you want love Poetry?

You just want so many things from me that i can give you.

Do You want people to need a towel by the time you leave the stage!?

You're right, they shouldn't call it dry *******

You know, Port Veritas. I can't wait for you to watch this amazing show we have for you tonight.

As my profile states,
we're gonna give strangers this microphone for four minutes.
Where they are gonna say whatever the hell they want about terrible dates, passionate love, terribly passionate ***.
And that sounds great doesn't it?

Just imagine how wonderful it will feel when
you get up here
picture all these lovlies in their underwear
feel cold and alone
with nothing but your words
and a microphone
Then drop the god ****** heat on us.

Imagine a chorus of ****
and Mmmm and snaps

THAT'S really why you swiped right today, isn't it Port Veritas?

Excellent! Let's get you started!

As you heard, we've put together a Special Package, with this Valentines open mic. A LOVE SLAM.
And an extra free second date when you try this First One for just your body.
Plus, since you're one of the first 100 people I find attractive,
I'm gonna throw in a Third date. so you get three, for the price of one!
And remember that swiping right on a Poetry slam is risk-free because it's backed by our 30-day Text you back guarentee.
So put your name on the sign up sheet.
next to your $3- $5 dollar suggested donation
bus your tables at the end of the night,
Tip your bartender Leah well for putting up with us every week.
use whatever bathroom you ******* want

and one last order of business
to wrap things up
like a good boy practicing
safe ***, who is totally not trying
To get you all pregnant.
when he asks how you like
Your eggs in the morning.

Un-fertilized.

If someone gets up here and says
something during their four minutes
That makes you feel unsafe
you can do one of three things
1. Silently get up, leave the room and come back when you're comfortable
2. Get Nate or myself and tell us to provide floor for a calm discussion.
3. Go home write a ******* poem about it. and bring it back here next week!

Now
WHO'S READY FOR A VALENTINE'S OPEN MIC?!

UP ON DECK
WE HAVE:

September's ploughed earth
sows the rains

it is something like D.H Lawrence's
' The Rainbow',

that you love
the Polish cleaning lady so

my Soul's countryman,
dear poet of the North

for now, Persephone still
walks the earth

fair Kore, soon to descend
to the underworld

back to an aged God in love
were I thus loved by a man

as to become his queen
as to be kidnapped by him

instead, all I have is you,
a woman's love unrequited

for a boy & growing stale
as far off winter calls

like a theatre scene
too much rehearsed

You're just the
diamond in the rough
streets  Chi-burbia

The girl next-door archetype

I'm just the
scumbag
psychopath
soliciting
snapchats

Darling,
Don't you wanna
get disrespected?

I know this wine
is loosening my lips

How about you?

Are you all wet yet?
Do you want me
to come in?

Neath beau blue skies and wounded sighs,
wind like silk caressed his skin.
Rain like splinters in his eyes
as shadows flit across the scene.
"Vindicta," the shadows mocked and chimed
as cold showers burned his skin.
"Vitriol", he chorused in his mind
where old demons lurked therein.
"Veritas, I have fought my fight..."
he spoke aloud with steadied breath,
".... and by these words I hold contrite
ye demons - lo! - be gone in death."
Avast, the showers softened
while silver linings streaked the skies.
The demons fled, undone by caution-
vindictive hearts in plain disguise.
Their words bore no gravitas
like garbled noise in quick regress
for truth reigns in fair equitas;
for acts, not words, can claim redress.

Deranged rocks, spread in albeit magnetic threads
rattle the sky's mirror with impatience.
Lay her feet on the ground, the young girl did.
The touch of her soft, dampened scarf
kindled the metamorphic calm.

My veritas found its unwanted shrine--
The dreadful peace that let it dine,
upon the well-being of its host nest its swine.
The ****** amalgam in her eyes
led its produce down her wavy brown vines.
They hid her cheeks, and brought down traited drops
of long-withheld tangy crust
towards the lavender ascot.

She grabbed onto her feet,
warm and wrapped with white cotton and wool heat...
she caressed the ornamental fabric,
swerved her fingers along its threaded magic.
Their lacy innocence familiarized her and made her smile,
whence the memory of her veritas triggered in her mouth's isle.

She lay her hopeful eyes on the silver-nitrate clad scarf,
covering the now-calming rocks' quaff.
Of my reflection her face saw only loss,
for her recognition seemed forever trapped in virtuality,
in moss.

You said in dreams I am your perfection
I am more than you hoped you'd find
You never dreamed I'd return you affection
I never dreamed you wanted mine

Do not look for revelation in an event,
look inward at the sum of your experiences…
then exhale –

blow them away like a fine powder
into the abyss of space.

Emptiness, silence…dissolution –
the unspeakable, un-hearable happens.

Your message finds you in the inhale –
and for a moment, you cannot move…

the next words you speak
are the truth.

I remember vividly,
Thanksgiving, 1999.
I asked my mother
for a sip of her wine
(Pinot Grigio).

She hesitated, then laughed,
and let me press my small lips
against the rim
of the long stem glass.

The cool liquid
stung the back
of my throat
as it went down,
and I furrowed my brows
in disgust.

"Why would anyone drink this?"
Adult laughter erupted
around the table.

I didn't smile.
I wondered what they knew
That I did not.

Flash forward.
Present day wino
with a strong preference
for red
but a known policy
of indifference.

I enjoy it now.

But every once in a while,
I take a sip
that stings the back
of my throat.
And as I furrow my brows
in disgust,
I remember
That I still don't know
anything.

Have you ever had yourself shattered into a million tiny pieces.
"If you ever have the opportunity you must ... "
Cause that journey of trying to place the pieces back together is impossible
And the mosaic that comes from you trying is a work of art
And trying is the battle of your life ...
But the endgame makes it all worth a while
I got to become the architect of my own life.
It destroyed me and I guess that is the point.
By taking ownership as the Creator
I had to emulate Source
Before my crash ... I never fully respected source.
After ... I knew where I had come from and because of the journey I just might have figured out how to get back ...
My life today, begins by ingesting a crystalline structure.
Lithium
The lattice-work simplistic contemplative duality built into the structure provides the foundation on which I stand.
Now that previous statement is probably all ******* 19 times out of 20
but isn't Dogma at it's very root all *******.
Funny thing is ... ******* is a pretty strong foundation from where I'm standing ...

If thine eye offends thee
pluck it out....

War offends
my eye.

All my
senses
defiled
*****
disemboweled
by the
abomination
of war.

My mind
disregards
denigrates
reneges
warps time
destroys values
alters psyches
lays waste
to my
conscience
of hope.

Mine eye offends me
the complicit witness
complacently
ambivalent
turning deaf ears
to groans
of the wounded
wails of the aggrieved
silence of the dead;
shutting doors
to sanctuaries
where refugees
seek safe houses,
locking factories
where men seek work,
level homes
where women nurture,
strafe playgrounds
where children laugh,
raise cities
where people
learn to be human,
immolate mosques
where
God's Children
cry out to the
Beneficent One.

Mine eye offends me,
my gut sickens,
to witness
the slaughter
of innocents
droning on
no angels to save
the million Issac's
savagely smashed to bits
by a Tomahawk's blow.

God's vengeance
escalates
the celestial ledgers
dripping red ink
from excessive
collateral damage,
people reduced
as objects used
to secure a loan
indeed an ARM
on a real time
American nightmare
whose reset rate
is mounting body counts
and massive budget allocations
protecting undisturbed flows
of corporate profits
valued in barrels
of imported blood.

Mine eye offends me
an innocence lost
Veritas vanquished
life is devalued
humanity debased
compassion defunct
empathy a twisted satire
an indelible weakness
incidental hostage
to the torridness
of the lurid play
of savage nations
projecting will,
a devastation
of action.

Mine eye offends me
the message of
sweet Jesus
a way of light
transformed into
biblical justification
agitprop verse
stoking blood lust zeal
for apostate infidels
sons of Abraham's
unworthy spawn,
of Hagar the *****
******* child Ishmael
turned out again
from tribal tents
of an absentee father
from an unfriendly
paternity.

This black *******
an abomination
in the sight of Allah
celebrates
a zeal to ****
unholy disciples
yearning to fill
banana crates
with body parts
draped in
drab Hijabs
decorated with
satanic verses
from a
Holy Quran
carved with
bayonets
of self righteous
Crusaders
armed with rifles
inscribed with
Gospel verses
on deadly gun
barrel stocks
to ramp the passion
of the righteous Crusade
against Godless apostates.

Mine eye offends me
as I witness
the **** of
corporate mercenaries
churning bereaved
Blackwaters
beholden only
to shareholders
gobbling spoils of war
to safely exit
to private vomitoriums
to expunge the excess
of gluttony
only to
quickly return
to engorge themselves
at the public troughs
again.

No constitutional
restraints
save the
strict guidelines
of holy
corporate governance scriptures
ruthlessly enforced with
golden carrots
of multi-million dollar
stock options
and the brutal stick
of shareholders divine right
to quarterly dividends
and above average
equity returns.

Corporate warriors
anointed by
holy oil
proffered
by capitalist shamans
and US Senators
conferring
jurisprudential deferment
on civil law
recusing them from
any behavior
to recognize the humanity
of captive insurgents.

Mine eye offends me,
as the flag
draped coffins
of returning
servicemen
and women
continue to pile
on the boiling tarmac
of Dover Air Force Base.

Tearful salutes,
folded flags
and mournful dirges
of prerecorded Taps
are small compensation for
shattered families,
and a wasted life,
unnecessarily spent,
criminally sacrificed
in a pointless conflict
in service to a lie.

Mine eye offends me
as I watch
my country's soft parade
of growing militarization
xenophobic fear
compelled patriotism
salute and goose step
to the flash of sword
and the sound of guns
and the glittering
medals of valor
adorning the chests
of a nations warriors.

How barbaric
are we?
allocating
overstuffed
apportionment
of weapons
and armories
while
people are
foreclosed
forcing armies
of unemployed
Joads
to ride
en masse on
an Acela Express
to a crowded
poor house
a listless journey
on pock marked
highways
arriving at
dreaded
destinations
to defunct
townships
offering
empty factories
and closed schools.

Screaming in silence
I scratch at my eyes
with numbed fingers.

Matthew 18:9

Music Selection:
The Doors, The Soft Parade

Oakland
3/17/10
jbm

Should I hang with my friend who I haven't seen in a year or go meet this tinder girl?
Someone New - Hozier

I just can't put my finger on it.
something about her is goregous.
Baby Got Back - Jonathon Coulton

You're right. It's totally her ***.
Ugly Faces - Watsky

Shh, spotify, be nice. It's not her fault.
Do Better - Say Anything

Okay okay, you're right. I'll bring her home.
All Time Low - Jon Bellion

Oh c'mon, She's not that bad...
Proove Me Wrong - Dub FX

Well like... her personality is pretty cute.
Some Girls Are Crazy - Echo Movement

I can't beleive I just had *** in my backseat.
Glad You Came - The Wanted

Yikes. All the girls dropped from this party. it's just gonna be me and my three dude friends.
To Many ***** On The Dancefloor - Flight Of The Concords

I completely agree. Should i go or just come up with a ****** excuse to leave?
You Don't Have To Be A ******* - Flight Of The Concords

You're right i'll leave. What should i tell them?
Working - I Fight Dragons

No i already told them i got the day off. That wouldn't work.
My Buddy's Back - Big D and The Kids Table

Oh perfect!
Sleepyhead - Passion Pit

Yeah I should go to bed.
Let me finish this poem first.
Go To Bed - Ookla The Mok

I'm stuck on this line.
What's a good word to describe Port Veritas? Like... one word?
Home - Phillip Phillips.

That's adorable... you're so right.
See You Again - Wiz Kahlifa

******* spotify that was super uncalled for. Now i'm bummed out.
Get Over It - Ok Go

Dude. That's like super insensitive
Ungrateful - Streetlight Manifesto

No i'm not ungrateful. I love you, you just don't need to make me cry when i'm down in the dumps like that.
Lean Into The Fall - Mona

I guess you're right. Fine. Thank you.
All The Stars In Texas - Ludo

That's the nicest thing that anyones ever said to me. I like when you do that.
Like or Like Like - Miniature Tigers

Uhh, i guess like like. You're pretty much my favorite app.
R U Mine? - Arctic Monleys.

I think maybe you're moving a little fast spotify... i don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment.
I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys

This is getting weird. I'm going to bed.
I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie

Okay no, seriously i'm turning you off.
*Don't Unplug Me - All Caps.

It's not “true” because I believe it
I believe it because it is true.

The wind blows
in the birch tree
Why do I think
of widows at a funeral,
faded and tired.
The leaves too.
soon they will fall
another summer
another year nearly over
I cannot but help feeling
as the leaves fall.
I am a year older

Our lips are not for speaking truth
beyond the barrage of empty words
that flow from their parted caves.
I’ve taken to holding open my ears
because there is so little you can hear
when you rely on deceptive soundwaves.

The truth lies somewhere within
the silence of two lovers on
a king-sized bed in a rented room
smelling faintly of *** and
someone else’s faded dreams.
It lies somewhere in the electric touch
that travels on the closeness of skin
as two hands quilt their fingers together.

Two hands melt into one
sharing a pulse that speaks volumes
louder than anything the lips
could ever try to spill out into the air.
Listen not with your ears, but
with your fingertips along the curves
of her body, the open chords on
your guitar, make her sing your name.

Study her like the holy books
you never bothered to pour over
in search of authenticity,
in search of meaning.
And when you crash together
harmonizing strings of pleasured profanity,
gasps, sounds that almost form words
It should feel the same as
holding her hand.

And even long after you finish
return to your sides of the rented bed
collapse near into sleep with a
frenzied exhaustion
don’t let go. Right between your
fingertips lays the closest path
you will ever have to hearing
words of candor.  The truth
Lies between two lovers.

worlds collide
on a yellow night
lies slicker than the sun
pooling on horizon lines
color starting to run
down sloping sides
of alibis
waiting to
come undone
when moonlight
shreds the hues
of sleight
presents it all
from dark to bright
shadows dance
where once was
light.

The truth of the matter is that when I say I don't matter I really want you to prove me wrong. The truth is sometimes I need to hear the things I feel are lies because all of the time I live with this doubt that shrouds me in a feeling of emptiness this feeling I feel I know too well and won't leave me alone till I'm dead, till I'm cold. Truth is I never mean to say some of the things I say but say it anyways because what I want to say is too cliché. Truth is I am not myself and I never met myself but I know what it is that makes me who I am and that's not just you, not just me, but my friends and family, those that surround me because I don't fit a mold of society I just shape myself because no-one can seem to make anything with me, so I just resonate with those whom I designate a place in my life a place in this strife. The truth is my rhymes sound so familiar to you because they're fragments of the few who you know who we've shared in our life and glimmer and shine with the best years of their lives. This is the truth as I know it and I'm not afraid to show it

Now that
I’ve told
you all my secrets

Won’t you come
in the night
and ****** me
with the truth?

Push me down,
and tie me to the bed
that I made
Freudian-slipping
between layers of
in vino veritas
conversations

When I manifested
from under the mask
where I just
want to be accepted
as both the light
and my shadow

Won’t you come
pull my dark passenger
from the
dark
depths
of my sacral chakra?

My deepest desires
spiraling out,
you've
got me
wrapped around
your finger

I am the snake
coiled around
the core
of the sweetest
fruit
I just want to
savor

Then slither
back home

To the
Goddess of the Abode

To decompress
this tension

To Rise up and
slit my throat
at the vortex
of expression

i've never been so grateful
to lack the courage to be honest
than when we spoke at long last
and you revealed you'd been deceitful

to find out that to you
i was purely an experiment
to see if you would feel something
when i was in it for the sentiment
and loved you without reservation
unaware of your motivation
was like a reinforcement, yet again
that all my struggles are in vain
and that i'll wind up, in the end,
trying to excise my feelings
and my shattered heart to mend

but if these things you say are true
and it's pointless for me to go on wanting you
when you don't want me, too,
why is it that every time
your blood-alcohol balance is tipped
you seem to find me sublime
more than merely a pasttime
and, time after time,
into my arms - my bed - you've slipped

because i know you know the phrase
in a dead language, nevertheless
if "in vino veritas"
then maybe you need to reassess

or maybe that old saying
contains less truth than i had hoped
and now that your words have stopped ricocheting
like a bullet cavernating in my ribcage
it would appear that i haven't coped
and how could i after that level of stun
but now that the damage is done
those wounds should eventually fade
evaporate off my skin
like dew in the face of the rising sun

My anomalous trip thus far has been dichotomous.
Harbingers motivate my advent: a chorus.
Acceptance of frolic ventures sent: a quest.
My sneakers meet familiar soil at last.

Designed to be a panacea, yet I fall ill.
Sleets of rain impact my soul: a slight chill.
Hazed trance, awashed clean of all acrimony.
A lurid stroll, downhill, parallel, perfunctory.

I, a stoic mercenary, avenging my ties tonight.
Arcane magic flow through my veins, my sight.
Moisture sparkle, glistens through my mental maze.
Resistance, control: I attempt to regain ablaze.

Synaptics fuse, burn, misfire, discombobulate.
Higher functions remain: calculus, formulate.
Veritas! Visual focus be on 2D layer sharp.
Disintegrated data sung with melodious harp.

Laissez-faire slayed by Communist meritocracy.
Mental hierarchy arise from wayward sorcery.
My affection for her nets only melancholia.
The amity cease... yet reborn by spying cornea.

Upon a hill from sea to sea brings forth diplomacy.
Lively lads, enshrouded in black; they be prodigies.
Persons of worth: one stranger joins their ranks.
If my creed offend, beg you pardon pranks.

Silent drizzle softly sings of night and majesty.
Lament under moonlight, behold gray sanctity.
Ne'er shall dreadful turmoil befall our facilities.
Literature conceals such divine secrecy.

It exists.  One need just leave no stone unturned... relentless pursuit of truth.  Be a sleuth instead if jumping to conclusions...open minds unclouded can see with more than just the two eyes in their head.  The pineal gland, your third eye, hand in hand with intuition, the heart and a universal soul will lead you to that truth ......even if it hurts.

He was not without sin
But his hands were clean
The only blood on his soul his own
And now he is

Old man on death row
Aging faster than the fools around him
Does he believe that there is any justice in the world?
If there is, it is not reserved for him
Dead man sits

Fifteen minutes to seven
Dead man walks
Five minutes to midnight
Dead man lies

His final quiet pleads and requests scream injustice to the people
Perhaps a thousand miles or less away
Cop killer laughs

Veritas, Aequitas
Just because it’s a Dead Language doesn’t make it meaningless

Man
Perhaps with no Thump in his chest
Perhaps confused a little
Perhaps not noticing the pure white Thump next to him
Flips switch
Nails man to the cross of corruption
And now there is a murderer in the room
Dead man sleeps

Those lungs which gave wind to such wisdom
Collapse
That heart that beat with an Iron Innocence
Slowly bleeds no more
And now Georgia is heartless
Eyes of hope that saw themselves killed
Twenty years ago
Glitter, shimmer, flow, run down
A cheek of a ****** colour
With federal crosshair tattooed upon it
Then dull

Libra, chained, looks away
Governor nods in satisfaction and corrupt pride
Broken scales lie on the floor of his office
Troy Davis is dead
The World Weeps

There was a machine
That cranked and rattled

There was a machine
sputtered and clattered

All questions were battled
Inquiry shattered

A class taken faster
Than all minds could fathom

Discoveries scattered
Fleeing the merciless

Mega machine that
Cranked away

Endlessly tearing
Through anything

Everything that could be thought
Or changed in a way

Now in a void
Empty of knowledge

The machine stood motionless
Somewhat in awe

The only thing
It failed to discover

Was that it could not
Uncover it all