An Anthology of Poems by Chris M.
Updated: Aug 21, 2023
Written by Chris Mardiroussian as a guest submission!
A toast to despair
I feel the sands of time
fading
when my vinyl erections
skip and scratch
flinch and flicker
in the mornings,
echoing the rhythm
of life's
relentless beats.
Don't get me wrong,
stroking the Bastard
in the mornings
injects me with
three-liter endorphins
and the Hydraulic horsepower
of a Golden Maserati,
causing angular momentum
that would be thrusted onto
a Madman's whiskey body.
It doesn't do me any good,
the way this script unfolds,
I get in bed with
midnight outcasts,
forgotten misfits,
and cigarette Foxtrots
that carry broken bottles
stuffed with shattered dreams,
where a tattered waltz,
jagged steps,
leaves a trail of
bittersweet melodies
whispering wanderlust
and wayward stories,
full of echoes that
hardly make
any sort of friction
Or dent
in between
those
cellulite thighs.
Hollow Sheets
More beer bottles
Another bedroom
Another bedsheet.
Other lips
Other hair
Other hips
Other crusty toenails
and a face like a washrag.
You silence the witch’s phone (nobody’s looking)
She falls asleep in bed
And you wonder what happened tonight
what happened to the last one
And the one before that
whether or not those savages survived
it’s all so cathartic, catastrophic, chaotic —
this will-they-won’t-they
this cat-and-mouse-game
this gentle madness
with another
Hot mess.
I would rather steal a bag of chips,
carry a hundred pounds of steel,
smoke too many cigarettes,
wear tropical floppy shorts,
listen to the sound of a refrigerator,
paint bad paintings of dog farts,
than cry.
Another Dead End
We sleep on opposite sides
like complete strangers.
You turn to her,
attempting to cuddle
and be the
bigger spoon,
hoping it leads
to a dance-in-the-dark.
“I’m tired, let’s just go to bed…” she sighed.
When you wait for her to black out,
you leave in the
middle of the night
(with sadness knowing you will
never see her again),
you drive away,
sit in the car,
can’t help but think —
another night
another bed
another wicked witch.
She knew what she wanted,
And it wasn’t me.
I know more women
like that than any
other kind.
another dead end.
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Chris Mardiroussian is a Lecturer in the Department of English at California State University, Long Beach. His most recent book is a full-length collection of poetry entitled BLUNDER DOWN UNDER, which Chasing Shadows Magazine called, "A stark and raw style of writing that clearly constitutes the life of a typical miscreant." In 2019, he won First Prize in the Cinema Italian Style Film Festival (sponsored by the prestigious American Cinematheque in Los Angeles) for his short film entitled IL BREAKUP, which he co-wrote and produced. In 2017, he co-wrote a collection of poetry entitled HONESTY. LOVES. CRUELTY. He has also worked on several independent films such as Friends in High Places (2021), nominated for Mexico City’s International Film Festival, The First Color (2020), won the Disability Issues Award, and The Ties that Bind Us (2019), won the Gold Award for Independent Shorts. His work has appeared in Bloom Magazine, BOMBFIRE, Ice Lolly Review, Maythorn Magazine, Perfumed Pages, Pomona Valley Review, Poetically Magazine, Soul Talk Magazine, and elsewhere. He lives in Los Angeles, CA.
Contact him at: chrismardiroussian@gmail.com!
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