Heredity Passing Traits onto Your Fake Sympathies


I made a promise to keep the family together

nobody cares or makes time & effort whatever.
I tried my best but all of you push yourselves away
wrapped in confusion, it hurts, I’m trapped in dismay.
Everyone seems to pick favorites and separate
arguing with them would just turn into a debate.
I’m tired of getting caught in between the middle
I want to leave this city, go somewhere & settle.
Would anyone even care if I leave?
No, it pains me to see myself grieve
All they care about is themselves
me, me and ignoring everyone else.
You only show up if a family member is dead
fake sympathies & no remorse in your head.
It’s unfair how the world mistreats one another
we’re the same species disrespecting each other.
My family lacks compassion showing no interest in what I do best
Happiness and love is all I really need, fuck you and fuck the rest.

 

 

Note: This poem is another personal observation on family.
Does your family ever seclude themselves from other family members?
I’m going to assume by now, that you already know where I’m going with this question.
Families are complicated creatures.

They sometimes annoy us; upset us, back-stab us,
and don’t show up at funerals but later show up to eat our food, etc.
Humans are imperfect. The beauty of it, we learn from our mistakes,
Karma however smiles the perfect weapon, her sense of humor.

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Heredity Passing Traits onto Your Fake Sympathies – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Bitter Feminist Inflates the Ego in Her Pride


My opinions don’t matter said the angry feminist

she’s extremely sensitive, I worry for the therapist.
Your bloated ego doesn’t match your personality
Hanging out with you is an awkward snap hostility.
I’m a human being who believes in friendship equality
your irrational temper stings like a dictator authority.
Look in the mirror, is this what you want to become?
If you want peace in your life, fight for it overcome.
Our conversations cut short; you easily get offended
I try making small talks, the look in your face irritated.
I’ll stop talking now; you’re always shutting me out
your attitude needs adjustments, this I highly doubt.

 

 

Note: The poem you just read was based on true life personal experiences.
Have you ever felt – that your opinions don’t matter to anyone? You try your best to communicate across that individual, but you’re immediately cut off from even taking a breath. The tone in their voice is guarded
with anger, frustration, ‘We are always right and you are always wrong’. Do you get a sense of George Orwell’s, 1984?
Big Brother telling me to shut up! Your opinions are irrelevant.
Big Brother (metaphorically speaking) is the bully who wants
to restrict you of your human knowledge.

To my WordPress friends, I hate being silent by the outside world,
for this I must watch what I say, truth feels like a waste, it’s unfair don’t you think?

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of The Bitter Feminist Inflates the Ego in Her Pride – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Aquamarine Three ( A Collaboration with Marina & I)

 

AquamarinaThreeL©Marina Kanavaki


Plasma ball sun

centers the embryo host.

Electricity fingers
paint a bluish yellow
at the end of a thesis.

Darker z+n day

I, complement you
all the colors filling the isotope.
A beautiful wooden twig
dripping in front of your portrait,

Liquids hypnotize our eyes
inverse aqua canvas
you the chemist artistique.

Iris clockwise aperture
it’s the Latin sequence

Phenomenology three
gracefully exposed,
Wolf–rayet star
your special gift hues,
warming up the babies insomnia.

 

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero & Marina Kanavaki

 

All rights Reserved.

 

No part of Marina Kanavaki Painting or Aquamarine Three – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and Marina Kanavaki works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

 

Inspiring painter/musician Marina Kanavaki is truly an amazing
& gifted artist. She and I decided to make a collaboration that I’ll never forget. Anything is possible with painting mixed in with poetry.
To all my readers – this poem is my interpretation to her painting that is display right in front of your very eyes.

Please visit her page she’s got a lot of paintings that she’s done,
along with her music and even t-shirts, leggings, sweaters, mug cups, etc..etc.

 

Marina Kanavaki Website link:

http://marinakanavaki.com/

 

 

 

 

Captain Anyflop


Activate ayahuasca scent

melting the secret vibration –
sound fizzle, daffodils smithereens.

Integral agony Imodium

Brain fast-moving purple much;
outer stop to city sentence,
caress automatic caesura

Ignorvex human galacto

You’re spit scupper
ends stimulation you.

Do breakfast opioids suck rides eyes?

A transvestite Nazi
shook hands with that weird girl
who deliberately spanks her dreams.

LSD camaraderie

Captain anyflop
should we precede
with your attention glands?
Not today my boy.
My creativity is being censored
by the ninny-hammers.
I can’t tell you why
they’ll report me to the fascist red-flag,
hence it’s just unfair.

 

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Captain Anyflop – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Mute-Heads Tease the Suicide Coins


I evoke chatoyant opulent.

Doctors marvel under the gall.
Cataclysm muffles,
Undress provincial bless
auto-intestines emollient.

The omen caviar beams at your chessboard.
Obey the splatter moiety.
Introverts loathe
déjà vu bleeding,
suicide coins coalesce.

Decayed summery –
itches a twilight brochure.
Sanctuary rolls off my ears.
Once a toad convulses,
you’ll notice the clouds pores stroking your rivulet.
What eyes have dilated truthful waste?
The mute-heads
prophesized at 23 frames pre-second.

Your magick pectoral
zooms into ant field pornography.
Teach cathedrals to sin.
Irrelevant disquisitions
O tis tobacco smuggles inside your teeth.

 

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Mute-Heads Tease the Suicide Coins – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

I Broadcasted a Giant Masterpiece (Headroom Interruption Max Max)


Dark newspaper articles

my “it” cargo cult
gets one diphthong & a holler.
I broadcasted a giant masterpiece
you galactic fucking theme.
Max, Max, sunglasses
getting my midnight tan
for only $12.95 a month –
(beware you shiny Liberal bitch)!

Captain flyswatter!
He’s my good slave signal pirate.

I fart when I stutter ‘Yeah’!
Catch inure
He chuckles at your HBO blipvert.
Expose my buttocks to channel sleepland.

Love dies.
distorted voice.
Broadcast intrusion gets me laughing & spanked.

Oh, giggle me twice a filthy wave.

 

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of I Broadcasted a Giant Masterpiece (Headroom Interruption Max Max) – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

 

 

Descartes Dead Laser

Virtual snot
    shrouded us
like congruent bugaboo.

The maudlins erased
    Global interbreed appoggiatura,
they’re widely known as the gloat natter eruption.

Turmoil flabbergast – smoke coxcomb.

Allergen the mass age
       towards unsober matutinal disease,
twitchy empiricism metalloproteinase,
       protguile internecine pain,
the architect ohology regress Google.

Anti-bohemian wrinkles
       the aurochs blain alarmed.

Descartes dead laser –
congregates the derighainic passel
   of borborygmus moisturizer chyle.

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Descartes Dead Laser – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Desperation Sun #7


I lick the soups chrome thunder

itchy orgasms in the vast wonder.
Sun ejaculates bursting come
white semen feasting to some.
California plastic mannequin humans’
Narcissistic selfies turned inhuman.
Wannabe hipsters all personality a fake
cold backstabbing two-face snakes.
There are too many errors, eyes unclean
Desperate 9 & 7, don’t know what they mean.
The sound of Pavlov’s bell rings money
god on a cross covered in molten honey.
Sweet bruises decomposition hours;
evolution dips its feet purely sour.
The starving skeleton plant wants to be fed
protesting away fuck; hope corrupts your bed.
Visions rust the melting frame
lighter fluid X marks the name.
A psychedelic mouth, a slip typhoon,
drugstore spirits steam the hairy spoon.
I tell stories about myself as a lunatic paranoid
I’m writing like a madman driven by his own void.
Comic book heroes reflect my personal life
villains often times invade within my strife.
Ripped by flesh walking without tissue feeling sore,
ersatz mechanically damaged me through the core.
Tainted happiness, trampled by psychological flu
hot tears deteriorate wisdom, look closely it is you.

 

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Desperation Sun #7 – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Panic Scratches the Ignition Moon


Someone stole the sun from the sky.

Someone stretched the stars from the sea.
Who would’ve thought I’d be living in a dream.
Who would’ve thought celestials would scream?
I stare towards the fragile moon
showers smear your colored skin at noon.
There is no such thing as god
Self-youth commodity culture mod.
Happy drugs devour people
cartoon funnies ignition us cripple.
Wet fermented chainsaw cigars
devils fuck me soring scars.
The feeling penetrates me free
blowjobs sparkle my face glee.
Soft & warm moist spring desires
the monster man ties me up in wires.
I want to drink your foggy smell
pieces of me belong in hell.
Cryo-chambers laboratory birth
numb world panics spoiled earth.
Sniffing cocaine from the clouds
stomach growls a painful loud.
Desolation mumbles a worn out rain
memories haunt you infecting you of pain.
Scratching away from the hole that I’m in
a glimpse of repeat & fear I see within.
The path I walk on falls apart
my heart a clip board shooting darts.
False messiahs drown me in piss
everything broken all else dead with this.

 

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Panic Scratches the Ignition Moon – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.