An Anthology of Poems by Chris M.

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!