poetry/prose by Calvero.
Second book coming soon.

Second book coming soon.

Ralph + drivers cap = cutestfuckingthingi’veeverseen

Ralph + drivers cap = cutestfuckingthingi’veeverseen

So no one told you life was going to be this wayyyyyyyyyyyy!

i always get really depressed around fall/winter


I am watching
a homeless man
count his change.

He’s counting his change
as if he’s counting
dead lovers.

He hopes he has enough
dead lovers
to buy himself
a cup of coffee

and I do too.

If not,
    if he doesn’t have
enough dead lovers
to afford himself
a cup of coffee,
I will tell him to keep
his dead lovers,
    to put them back inside
    his coat pockets
    lined with memories,
and I will buy him
a cup of coffee.

He just wants to be like
everyone else
and everyone else
is sipping coffee.

People are sipping coffee
everywhere.

I wonder
if it goes down willingly,
    the coffee,
or if just goes down
because it doesn’t have
a choice
the same way we don’t have
a choice

and,
    no matter what
    anyone else ever tells you,
we never did

and we never
will.

Hahahaha!

    Sorry…

If I don’t laugh
I cry…

I look around
at all these people,
    breathing,
    standing,
    sitting,
    living,
        some willingly,
            some unwillingly,
        some totally indifferent
        to sun
        itself,
and all I can think
is,
    I really hope
    this works out…
in regards to me

and them

and us

and the sky outside
who is the color
of a dead vacuum
cleaner.


© Calvero 2014

schmegory:

I felt compelled to make some artwork for the tracks on the new compilation “Red Scare Industries: 10 Years of Your Dumb Bullshit”.

My friend-o made these and I think they’re pretty awesome.

haiku


I give you ice cream
just to see your face when I
knock it from your hand.


© Calvero 2014

i am a wonderful, wonderful person


There are four people
sitting in the upstairs dining area
of McDonald’s
with me.

None of them have any idea
I’m imagining
exploding their heads
with my mind.

Like looking at them,
    focusing on them,
and then,
    after wriggling my nose
    like Samantha
    from Bewitched,
BOOM!

Head gone.

Head exploded.

Like they never had it
to begin with.

But just one head…

I’m always exploding heads
one head
at a time.

This way
I can look around
and enjoy all of the panic
and confusion
and fear
I’ve instilled
into the souls of those
whose heads
I haven’t yet exploded.

Instilling fear…

how beautiful,

like a sunset
bound and gagged
with a pair of dirty
panties.

Gorgeous…

    Call me “Daddy,” sunset.

And then,
    after I’ve exploded
    my first head,
the remaining people,
    the ones who still have heads
    I haven’t yet
    exploded,
look around nervously
wondering if it will happen
to them,
    if their heads
    will explode,
having no idea
what to say
or what to do.

They’re distracted.

Now’s my chance.

I aim.
I focus.
I wriggle my nose.

BOOM!

Another head
exploded,

more blood
hydrating
the bloodless walls,

an intensified fear
in the eyes
of the two remaining survivors.

I notice
suddenly their iPhones
and iPads
don’t seem so interesting…

If you’ve ever wondered,
“what the fuck does it take
to get a person’s nose
outta their fuckin iPhone?”
the answer
is slowly exploding the heads
of the people around them
with your mind,

one by one,

building tension.

What a master.

What an artisan
of death,
    I am.

Talent show
worthy,

take a bow,

the whole time
thinking to myself,
    Not even your precious iPhone
can save you now…

Post your last status
ever.

“Just saw some dude’s head
explode
here in McDonald’s,
    wtf?!!!”

So sorry…

So sorry
you won’t be around
to see all the “Likes”
it gets.

Good riddance…

I grow bored
with this game
as I grow bored
with everything
and everyone.

BOOM!
    BOOM!

The last two heads
are exploded
and, finally,
I am alone.

I am happy.

Happiness born
outta hatred.

Bite through
the umbilical chord
and set the hatred
free.

Watch it float away
and don’t forget
to wave.

I’m so overcome
with joy
now that everyone’s heads
are exploded
I begin break dancing.

But my break dancing
is short lived
and I stop as soon
as a McDonald’s employee
holding a rag and a bottle of cleaner
walks upstairs
and sees the mess
I’ve made.

She just sighs
and hangs her head
and then begins cleaning the blood
off the wall.

I sit back down.

I don’t explode
her head.

She looks
so miserable
I decide to let her
live.

I am a wonderful,
wonderful
person.


© Calvero 2014

I have this weird, long, white hair growing out the side of my ear.

No one will ever find me beautiful.

Thank god.

taylorswift:

I was proud of the simple fact that I somehow avoided a major embarrassment in this moment.

taylorswift:

I was proud of the simple fact that I somehow avoided a major embarrassment in this moment.

spoiler alert: this is not a love poem


    When I used to look
    at her,
I felt like my dick,
    and my dick alone,
was running and jumping
through a sprinkler
on a front lawn somewhere
like a little kid
on a hot, summer day

and that my heart
was watching my dick
run and jump through the sprinkler
through the front window of the house
that the lawn belonged to,
    smiling to itself, my heart,
like a mother who was happy
to see her son
enjoying himself
so much.

Aw…

    Adorable.

But cut to now…

Me sitting underneath
this wooden ribcage
and filled with emotions
that are only capable
of being properly expressed
by crumpled up cheeseburger wrappers
and empty fry cartons
and empty soda cups.

I am a fat piece
of shit.

I am eating
all of the time
because I am hungry
for her insides
and I am trying to fill
my insides
the way her insides
used to fill
my insides
but McDonald’s
and Burger King
and Taco Bell
and Chipotle
just don’t fill my insides
the way her insides
used to fill
my insides.

(sighs
    like a mother fucker…)

    Despite
    my best efforts,
I never got
all of her facts
down,
    but even though
    I never got
    all of her facts
    down,
she still revealed
parts of herself
to me
that she had never shown
anyone else
ever before.

But like some pervy guy
who throws open his trench coat,
    revealing his cock
    and hairy balls
    to some unsuspecting lady,
there was just
a flash of it
and it was gone.

But in that flashing moment
of intimacy,
    one so much more beautiful
    than a cock and a hairy pair
    of balls,
I still, somehow,
got to know her
more intimately
than I ever knew
anyone

and that says everything
about her.

She and I
were two, lost souls,
    hungry, hungry, hungry
    for each other’s insides,
constantly rolling over one another
on a bearskin rug
laid out
on the edge of a cliff.

We were careful
and reckless
in our hunger
and we always aware
the edge of the cliff
was there
as we rolled over
one another,
    trying to feast
    on each others insides,
but, at the same time,
we didn’t care about
the edge
either
because if we rolled
off of it
we woulda rolled
off of it
together
and there’s nothing
more fuckin’ wonderful/romantic
than plummeting
to your death
with the person
you love.

And it was like that
all the time
too
because everything
she and I did together
felt like it was being done
on the edge of a cliff.

One time
I was just lying next to her
in bed
and she was asleep
and I wasn’t asleep
and it was dark in her room
and nothing remarkable was happening
at all
and so I looked over the edge
of the cliff we were on
while lying in her bed
and it was sooooooo
far down
that I got vertigo
and I got so scared
I almost shat my boxers
and so then I rolled onto my side
away from the edge
of the cliff
and I threw my arms over her
and she made a weird sound
that no one had ever made
before
and, suddenly, it all
became pretty fuckin’
remarkable.
    Like something as simple
as just lying next to her
while she slept
and listening to her invent sounds
felt remarkable
because,
    and trust me,
        trust this bitch
        right here,
you’ll never feel
more alive
than when you’re looking over/
after you’ve looked over
the edge of a cliff,

than when you’re looking
Death
in the eye.

Death
has a lazy eye.

Did you know
that?

Well I sure as shit
do
because I stared him
in his good eye
while his lazy eye
was looking over my shoulder,
    making me feel nervous
and wonder if someone
was sneaking up behind me
or something.

But there wasn’t anyone
sneaking up behind
me.

It was just
Death’s lazy eye
being all lazy.

That’s all…


Moonwalking
into oncoming traffic.

Facing the firing squad
with a rock hard
boner.

That’s what life
was
with her
and no matter how hard
I try
I don’t know how to live
after that/
without that.

I am Wile E. Coyote
opening an umbrella
over his head
as an anvil hurtles downwards
from the sky,
    ready to flatten him.

I am standing on
a hover board
and the hover board
is hovering over water
and,
    because the hover board
    is over water,
the hover board
just remains totally stagnant
and I can’t move anywhere
on it
because I’m a bozo
and I had no idea “those boards don’t work
on water.
    Not unless
you’ve got POWerrrrrr…

I feel helpless.

I feel stuck
here
and I don’t wanna
be here
and I can’t be
far away enough
from the world
tonight.

My cats,
my books,
my family,
my friends,
strangers,
acquaintances…

I could be all set up
in a space teepee
on the moon
and I still wouldn’t be
far away enough
from all these things
that disgust me.

I miss the way
she removed me
from my world
and the way
I removed her
from hers.

I miss the world
we lived in,
    our own world,
where noses were punched
and nipples were licked
and privates were shaved
and where flesh was consumed
like a basket of Olive Garden’s
never ending breadsticks.

I miss the way
she would take me
away from here,

the way
she removed me
from all of these unnecessary
people,

the way
she removed me
from all of these unnecessary
things,

the way
she removed me
from a world
that didn’t make sense
and never will,

to that place
she and I created
together
where neither life
nor death
could penetrate us

because
we were above
them
somehow,

so extremely aware
of both life
    and death
yet not phased
by either,
    therefore elevating us
above them,

she and I
looking down
on them,

laughing
at them,

spitting loogies
onto their heads
from above,

pulling down our pants
and taking out our privates
and peeing on them
from above,

kissing one another
as our golden showers
rained down
on top them,

just
laughing
at them,

just
laughing
at them,
    laughing
    at them,
        laughing
        at them…

the two stupid
twats
that they were

and always
would be,

she and I
living in this place
where
“we”
was all
there ever
was
and where
“we”
was all
there would ever need
to be.

“Home”
is what I think
you humanoids
calls it.

She and I
found/created
“Home”
together…  

So why
do I feel like
if she were here
right now
that I’d have to refrain
from bashing her face
in
with a fuckin’ rock?


© Calvero 2014

Hi. I’m Calvero. My mortal enemies consist of people with no manners and anyone who describes anything as “whimsical.”

I just laid in her bed
and listened to her tinkling
through the wall
and thought about running away
with her
to another planet.
A planet
that would let me kiss
the sound
of innate sadness
right outta her light, naked
footsteps.
A planet
that would let me
love her
in all the unnatural
and inhuman ways
she deserved
to be loved in.

Then I heard
the toilet flush.

She came back to bed,
laid down beside me
and we both fell asleep
on the same stupid planet
we had both been struggling
to learn how to love on
since the day
we were born.

I hate me
for accepting
the physical boundaries
of this world
and for trying to fit
our unusual love
inside of it.

Thank you, Isabel.

Thank you, Isabel.