“Larvae Feasting on the Lovely”

Do you feel lovely, as the Black Widow’s-

Are sending venom through your clitoris

Or locusts naping on your tender neck

Do you enjoy the rapists killing you-

In your dreams? As the bitterness enfolds

You’ve become a trenchant temptress

Eating the fantasies of every man

Reminding of me what a failure,

I really am, as a bewildered head immerses

From you acidic placenta

Do you enjoy, hanging Neanderthals

On meat hooks, like cattle about to die

From you’re poisonous scent, emanating

From your gas chamber of a cunt…

As I down a bottle of Johnny Walker Black

Your face looks more like a Dali monstrosity

Your seduction is uncanny, like Elizabeth Bathory

Your male acquaintances are drowning in a bathtub

Of your menstrual blood, intoxicating

To every man you kiss, you’re the walking dead

With larvae feasting on your sagging breasts

You will not rest until I die, you see my last breath

On the corneas of your crimson eyes

I will deviate to the path to the unknown

As you dance into a halo of sex-staved graves

©2009 Mike Schonewolf.

“The Sun No Longer Shines Here”

 

I’ve been downing whisky

For awhile, an elixir for the exiled

In drab room, where the knacks are

No longer hanging by a thread

 

Where life stops, the sun no longer

Shines here and my longing for

A meaningful existence never ceases

This hole in the wall’s my Three Mile Island

 

 Élan vital is merely a dream

 For the comatose cancer patients

 Hoping to live to see tomorrow

 The sun no longer shines here

 

Like the innocence of a molested child

I’ve feel confounded in my minds maze

I’m a mouse searching for the cheese

Of squandered opportunity, luck has expired

 

I wish your presence was near

I can’t even shed a single tear

The sun longer shines here

The bars on the windows are

A cold testament to a person long gone.

 

Words ©2009 Mike Schonewolf

This is a new poem. I'm a little rusty because it's been about nine months since my last one.

“Decaying Infrastructure”

Dear friend, squire of the poor
Kingpin of 125th & 2nd, the place
You gorily supplanted and moored
Do you feel adequate now?

That you’ve contributed to the
Decaying infrastructure to this
Golden city to the worlds infinite
Eye, you’ve gave it a sty

Does every addict dying fasten-
Your deepening insecurity, every
Lonely child crawling in streets
Of pins and tinted needles

Your Neapolitan needs have eroded
Every camaraderie you’ve salvaged,
New York’s arteries have corroded
From each corner store you’ve ravaged

You’ve become Harlem’s newest savage
Take a proud bow, the ignored pigeons
Will see to your last breath, before you pass
Into dusk with deafening sirens punctuating your end 

This is the first new poem I've written since I think September.

"The Midmorning Sprawl Society"

 

Under the streets, we crawl

Hiding under abandoned tunnels

Looking for city antiques to photograph

Uninhibited mendicants to catch off guard

 

Hoodlums gather PCP clouds on 125^th street

Little marauders with aerosol as a weapon

Desecrating this prized city with foolish

Squabbles looking like Egyptian hieroglyphics

 

Yuppie douchebags departing from hate couture

Bars of flippant fancy, popular today—

Obsolete the next by Bloomberg's wrecking ball

Reduced to the rubble of tomorrows trendy club

 

When the sun begins the rise

The noise of New York is now

Silent winds of unheard voices;

Crying for release from the shackles

Of poverty scrounging for food

 

We sprawl like deaf grasshoppers

Hiding under sidewalks like shadows

Evading a potential media disaster

Waiting like vampires, to be released

So that we may attempt to survive again

©2008 Mike Schonewolf

Well, I've been in New York City for six months now.  I have to say that I love it here. You can buy alcohol at a convience store, go to a peep show to relieve some tension (which I do every time I get paid), and go bar hopping ; which I did twice. But some things still remain the same. I'm still broke, unemployed, and lonely here as I was in New Jeresy. The only difference is that the women in Manhattan are one hundered times more elitist. I've tried talking to them and it seems as though I'm not there unless I throw money in their face.

My friends have intermittently visted me so I don't go nuts. But, there's a general sense of isolation I've been feeling more so in this city than in Williamstown. Job Corps is Camden High residental. The rooms are ramshackle,. the people are nhilistic, and the women are all lecherous leeches. I was involved with one and ended up with a sexual harassment charge for pressing her about her mind games on this site. I think that her and other conspired to expel me from the program but falied becuase I'm a quiet and studious student.

There's a pattern to what type of women approach me nowadays. Becuase we all know that the women I approach think of me as a leper. Well anyway, the women who converse with me are either married or extremely neurotic. My old teacher was both and she told me I was beautiful...She must have been on too many anti-depressants. My old college professor, when single and I was actually trying to converse with her; would emanate agitated body language and pretend to hear what I was saying than dismiss me becuase she was "busy". But, after she got married I couldn't get her to shut the fuck up one day when I visited. Then she gave me her business card with her cell phone number in case I need to talk to her. Why couldn't she have done this when she was single. What? Do have have the words "talk to me when you've eloped" written on my forehead!?  Also I met this crazy religious nut in the Bronx to tried to reconvert me, used me to move her shit, then threatened me when I disagreed with her. She claimed to have attempted to "guide" me. If she really wanted to guide me she would have guided me to her G-spot!

I have about 45% of my trade completed. I just need to pass the practice exams, then take the first and final exams, then to three hundred hours of Work Based Learning. I can't wait until I get out of that hellhole. I'm just counting the days slowly untill my completion or my collapse. I'm going to stay there on Chirstmas to make some extra money. I need it to buy some shit. Well, for the three of you who'll read this unill next time: Take care.

This is the title poem of my New York City based poems.

"City Lights, Dreary Nights

 

In the midst of a monetary meltdown

Pedagogic hustlers are dancing

For penance on the D train,

The spectators are speculating

Their eventual demise, I sit on

 

The midnight cart back to hell

In the comfort of the flickering lights

Wondering when is this apocrypha

Will end, I hear the sound of spray cans

 

Carousing my ears to make my mark

I refuse, getting off the train on 176^th

Where the whores roam freely,

I hear gunshots from ten feet away

 

Spanish is ubiquitous here like

The condoms commonly found-

In the sidewalks, blowing in the winds

Of autumn; I grow paranoid as the lights

 

Still flicker, and darkness consumes

The burning Bronx barrios, the mere screaming

Of various vagabonds sends alarms in my head

As I continually dwindle in impoverished plight

 

The world sees the indefinite lights of Manhattan

But instinctively ignores the flickering lights

Cancerously dying slowly simultaneously—

In the feet of this imperial city of dilettantes dreams   

Words Copyright 2008 Mike Schonewolf

"Guild of Forlorn Souls"

 

I'm shuffling through pictures

Of people I no longer know

In the stillness of this silent room

White walls with secrets burrowed

 

Within, I'm exanimate, missing

Their acquaintance, my former muses

But ecstatic they're no longer here

I'm in another plane in this city

 

Of amoral aspiration, a metropolis

Of distillate personas, I'm yearning

For the comfort of my friends on this

City block, the graffiti hugs me in solace

I see a guild of forlorn souls, squatting

 

For a little rain, to awash the darkness

Cleanse them of the grime

Of homelessness, I pour the

Rest of my water on them

It buys them a little food

 

Partial joy for the particles

Of New York, one day my misfortune

Will part my admittance to this

Guild of forlorn souls gathered

In Central Park West, my new home

 Words ©2008 Mike Schonewolf

"Contentment Is a Curvaceous Woman"

Contentment is a curvaceous woman
Hard to obtain, a pain to sustain,
When it leaves leaving you in distain
Leaving me a suicidal man

I wake up with the crows scratching
My eyes, my skin bloody, my spirit
Covered in the contusions of disillusionment
The cold stares of happy people are getting to me

Couples are everywhere like the plague
In early Europe, I'm sickened by the air
Of his cologne and her perfume, I'm
Sallow by their noxious love fumes

I feel like falling to my grave
Every time another jackass raves
About his licentious liaisons,
I feel a black horizon calling my name 

Contentment is a curvaceous woman, rendering
You; vying for its warm comfort, disposed
To engender an illusion of being loved when-
Really you see corpses floating flawlessly in rainbows

©2008 Mike Schonewolf

"Rose Petals In November"

We first began in Central Park South
You with you satin summery dress
I was reading Proust, doused in
My own sweat from the humid sun

We had a strong connection
You were writing, waiting
For me to speak, I did
My words were vivid memories

Created in the bedroom, naked
On my king-sized bed, I hope
You liked my award-winning performance
I thought you were enchanted by my
Abject poverty, I was wrong

I stayed in my rut;
You elevated to Soho social
Circles, enclaves of luxury
Our bond dissolved like
Rose petals in November

Cold, blackened, and dead
I hope you're happy with
Your milieu of millionaires
My last gift to you,
Is a coffin of counterfeit bills

Words ©2008 Mike Schonewolf