I feel
the brunt of the job hunt
when I’m scraping
crevices behind the couch cushions
searching for pennies
nickels and dimes
to get whatever it is
that I need at the time and
my mind spins
with panic and angst
no callbacks despite the many
promises by potential
employers saying they’ll
let me know one way or
the other and sometimes
I get form letters
impersonal bullshit statements
about the massive response
to a particular job ad
a buck twenty-five
gathered from the couch
coat pockets
barely enough to buy
a soda but I walk up the hill
to the 7-11
make my purchase and
sip on carbonated moments
that feel only as good
as I can possibly
feel during times like these

Copyright © 2013 – Bobby Travis – All Rights Reserved.

I delivered them
in person
door to door
20 resumes and
cover letters

I shook hands
with business owners
managers and
gave my plastic smile
I practically begged
for a job
lied about why I
thought I should be
the one to choose

I turned on my
bullshit generator
because to get a gig
doesn’t require
giving the right answer
but instead telling
the gatekeepers
exactly what they
want to hear

two weeks
three promising leads
each employer
said I’d hear
one way or another
whether I
have a job or not

I can only hope
that my bullshit is
up to par

Copyright © 2013 – Bobby Travis – All Rights Reserved.

I’ve seen a significant number of new followers this month. I would like to say thank you and welcome you along on my journey—our journey.

You are as much a part of this as I am. We are evolving at varying speeds individually, but we are growing together nonetheless. If none of you continued to read my nonsense I know that I would still write it down.

I don’t have to write, but I need to write things down because it’s a component of my achieved sanity. I’m pleased to have you reading my words and I want to show my appreciation.

You folks are an encouragement. You brought strength to my cause and you fine people are why the whole is greater than the sum of the parts with regard to my progress.

I remember packing up and heading out to Porltand, Oregon with only seventy-five dollars in my wallet. The idea was to find the center of myself so that I could concentrate on my writing. I did exactly that and more.

Some of you came along when I was still living in Texas and when my writing had taken the backseat due to a number of reasons that I won’t get into right now. I think there were about twelve of you who followed my blog back then.

Regardless of the junction where we crossed paths on the timeline you are here now. Thank you for your continued support and please know that I do appreciate you.

Also, let me know how I can help move your passions along. Can I write a review, share a link, join a group, join a Facebook group, follow a blog, or attend an event? What can I do you to help you also spread your flower seeds upon the soil?

I can’t wait to see your garden!

what if
we were to treat
our interactions
with people
as a work of art

if our only approach
was to see them
in that light alone

every spoken word
handshake or nod
sometimes saying
it’s ok to be second
I don’t have to be
first today or how about
bringing a lover
breakfast in bed

how would we produce
such magnificent and
artistic moments
our masterpieces

imagine having a
beautiful argument
breakup and have
the events be another
painting
song or story

a life made of art

there is no what if
but if
you disagree

then you’re not living

Copyright © 2013 – Bobby Travis – All Rights Reserved.

do you think
I want to see these things

Uncle Sam selling hope
while our economic structures
crumble and financial
institutions are bailed out
when jail is the only
appropriate place for them

crimes if done by any other
punishable to the fullest
extent of the law and we set free
the rich unjust greedy criminals and
covet their fortunes while
believing in the pursuit of happiness
an American dream
more taxes and less wages

a stock market few believe in
money loaned to people who can’t afford it
so that houses can be legally stolen
by the highest bidder of loans
designed to fail
homelessness growing while houses
remain as empty as the people
who foreclose them

a hippo ice skating
gliding across an unsound
frozen lake in Texas
the layer of ice like skin on an apple
broken by a thin blade of
inhumane despicable terrorism on the masses
humankind shattering under
the glorious and slow burning
sun of greed and false sense of entitlement

leaders nothing more than
school yard bullies
wolves teeth piercing through
necks of lambs
not out of hunger but
blood thirsty without reason
a simple discussion of
survival of the fittest and
a few predators but millions upon
millions of victims

I see all of this as do many others
yet few believe we can stop it
for me it’s difficult to say what I believe
during such absence of hope
hands locked around humanity’s throat
almost wordless and breathless
apathetic to the point of forgetting
why we fight and too tired
once we remember and too double crossed
to believe in a miracle

Copyright © 2013 – Bobby Travis – All Rights Reserved.

i haven’t seen
flies like these since
Texas
black gold in color

i’m pretty damn
certain that one bit me
just the other day

they’re bold and
fly up close
follow you through
the house

vanish instantly
when i reach for the fly swatter
in my case a spatula but
don’t worry
i do wash it afterwards

expect for the times when
I have a random
hankering for fly shit
it doesn’t happen all that often

they always aim to zoom
right into my ear hole
massively noisy
like holding an electric razor
up to my salty side-burn

a miniature 747
bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

i think I prefer
those measly fruit flies
in Portland
fluttering about aimlessly
like the peoplewho
live there
you Seattleites
need to adopt your fly
as your state’s
mascot

damn there’s another one

Copyright © 2013 – Bobby Travis – All Rights Reserved.

I met the bitch
on a dating site

never thinking or believing
our meeting
would ever turn into

anything worthwhile

maybe friends with benefits
who doesn’t like a piece of ass
when it’s cold and rainy
every single day in December

the beginnings of our
banter was electric enough
to peak my interest and
perhaps give me an erection

she appeared to be genuine and
used the type of words
one would associate
with a kind soul or kindred
spirit which was her first front
to lure me in
saying she felt like she
had known me for years which
was a smart con move
on her part
considering I had already made clear
my desire for deep and
meaningful connections generally speaking
because I’ve always been
one to keep smaller social circles
high walls with few keys

she was drawn and attracted to
my writing aspirations
intrigued by my dedication
my drive to pick up and move halfway
across the nation
to Portland from Indiana
despite having only
seventy-five dollars in my pocket and
sleeping on a futon cushion
in my brother’s walk-in closet
in a house full of non-bathing hipsters
a sink often full of dirty
dishes and maggots
which reminds me we also had
some tree hugging hippies
who used patchouli oil to cover
any foul scent instead of cleaning
the condemnable habitat

but I did what you do
when you need new faces
a fresh city
with a clean start
unfamiliarity specifically
everyone at email
phone or social networking
distance and no
distraction in my new
personal space where I could
concentrate on the novel

so I plopped down
in the moldy closet in
the house full of fruit flies
got on food stamps
shared my food to pay my rent
stayed drunk and wrote
poetry and short stories
like the one of me pissing myself
after a much too-long bong rip
during a night of heavy drinking
the spins followed by vomit and piss

then the new job came along
only a month of job searching and
there it was a third party company
supporting Apple products and
that was about the time I met
the deceivingly talented cunt and
the moment I laid eyes on her
in that dark dingy bar
only a couple of weeks after
she made contact on that god forsaken
dating site and going on and
on and on about how
talented she thought I was

she was amazed with how my writing
could keep the attention of
an Adderall addicted
mental health patient
who lived in the suburbs with her
rich mommy and daddy while
trying to repair the long term damages
caused by her methamphetamine
addiction and not to mention
her involvement with lab operations
eventually ditched by her husband
because of long periods of her
being unemployed and
the inability to keep her legs closed
stay off the dope
which is why she ended up
with only limited visitations
with her daughter

she was back in the burbs
age twenty-eight and living off her parents
mending fences and
trying to earn back the lost trust
win the approval of her father
hate her mother less
both of which was an ongoing quest
beginning her years of adolescence

but who discloses such truth
on a first date
the baggage comes into focus
when we start
shitting with the bathroom door open
but there in JOQS bar
in North East Portland
as we sat there
our first time together
my pitcher of beer on the table
along with her
nine-dollar fru fru drink
despite her claim to love
straight up whiskey

early as then I could see
through her bright forest eyes
ear to ear smile and her
inability to shut the fuck up
a personality she described
on her dating profile as bubbly
but my description a person
who is uncomfortable with silence
which is probably why
she enjoys the worst of the worst
reality TV programming
hour upon hour upon hour of senseless
drama and chitter-chatter
all her pop culture crack

yes I knew upon our first meeting
that I was dealing
with an aspiring whore
a hustler on the rise to success
obviously at the expense of anyone
who gets in her way and
she’ll take you out if or when
necessary
but there are times
when it’s simply more convenient
to play along
sing along with the bouncing ball
let the bitch take you on
the rollercoaster ride built for fools
but then jump off
drop them before they get the chance
to make a sucker out of you
but the problem

is knowing when to jump and
as the great Bukowski once said,

“there’s nothing worse than too late.”

she was the kind of pretty
you have to ease into
I got reeled in by her charisma
enthusiasm overload
she was curvy and tall with too much
makeup and perfume
gorgeous black locks but thinning
in the back
a symptom of some type of
glandular thyroid disorder or something
which also made one eye bigger
than the other and her emotions were erratic
we’re talking Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde style
she had a mouth that never stopped moving
yet she would ask me

“Why don’t you ever say anything, Randy?” and
my infamous response always

“I’m just waiting for my moment
to be clever.”

however those moments
were few and maybe
that was my white lie
to cover the fact that she
could never shut the fuck up
long enough for anyone
in our circle to speak a word and
it’s almost impossible
to have discussions with those who
instead of listening
are constantly waiting for their opportunity
to talk and therefore
my words over time became
background noise
like an old school box fan or 747
a dripping faucet
an easy dismissal of her
perceived irrelevance
I became someone to ignore and
I was always thinking
fuck that cunt I don’t have to
put up with her bullshit

but I took it and continued
to love unconditionally
but the more I caved the more
I noticed the spin she put on me
on my intentions and
what she called my unnecessary drama
the strongest case of avoidance
I had ever seen from anyone

eventually
being the introvert that I am
I pulled back completely
every passing day
another day full of misunderstandings
confusion
her lies and misleading information
raging arguments
her accusations of me being crazy
despite her being the one
on meds that without she couldn’t achieve
the simplest success of making a sandwich
taking a shower
yet I was the crazy one

time heals blind eyes and although
I saw her intentions then
I see more clearly now
how I got wrapped up and
bought into an ideal of companionship
a faulty product that she was
immensely talented at selling

but more importantly
her intent to make some cash
on my writing
it was never truly about me or us
she spoke of love but
it was all about the hustle
her cosign was only ever on
my writing and on what she
might gain from it
she saw dollar signs and
apparently did believe
in the work I was doing
enough to devise
her unjust plan

she played the romance card and
despite my resistance at first
my questions and concerns of mixing
business with pleasure
I eventually gave in to her incredible persistence
believed the love-words
spoken by a tramp
invested and trusted
only to later recall the dialogue from
years ago

“Hey, Randy.” she said. “You should do
a PR write-up on that dude
who creates the handmade vests.
What’s his name again; is it Nolan?”

“Yea…” I said. “His shit’s
pretty rad.”

“You could feature his work.” she said.
“Put it in that zine you’re doing. Make him
pay you three hundred bucks or
something like that and
I could lay out the photos.”

“Eh..” I said. “I’d probably do
a trade of services
you know an artist-to-artist
exchange. Dude is barely
getting by on his art these days.”

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” she said.
“A vest won’t get us an apartment!
Jesus, you’re killing me. YOU NEED
TO GET PAID.”

“I know.” I said. “I know. But not like that.”

“Randy…” she said.

“You should let me sell your shit.
If we left that up to you
we’d be broke off our ass and wearing
really awesome vests.
You have the worst mentality
lack of ambition or
motivation for selling your art.
What the fuck do you need
with a vest, anyway?”

“I was half joking, dear.”

“Randy, please let me be
that guy for you like that guy was
for Bukowski.”

she was no doubt talking about
John Martin
Black Sparrow Press
arrogant to put herself
among that group
although I did trust her
ability to move a product
she had proven
to be untrustworthy as a person
friend or girlfriend and
I refuse to do business
with anyone like her

besides
my words are more than a
fucking product
a little rich bitch from the burbs
reading psycho babble and
self help books
could never understand that

the last night we slept in the same bed together
also the night she passed out drunk
I remember her mumbling before dozing off

“Randy, this is it
I’m not kidding
you’ve got to write that fucking book
we need the money
your time is running out.”

two weeks later I
was out on the street
that’s the condensed
version of how I
got involved with a crazy bitch
on an internet dating site

a year and a half of life
that I can never get back and
days I would like to forget
but can’t

love games are simply
unforgettable

Copyright © 2013 – Bobby Travis – All Rights Reserved.

Reblogged from Artificial Selection Project – Go show these folks some love.

Our List of Rad Calls for Submissions.

The Artificial Selection Project is open to fiction, non-fiction and art by anyone with a grudge and a set of writing to back it up. The work must be previously unpublished and the sole property of the writer/artist submitting.
We are looking for fearless engaging work and are open to a variety of formal and narrative modes. Challenge us, surprise us, confound us, terrify us, but whatever you do, bring us with you. Also when submitting, please include your name and complete contact information.

this panic sets in
when it’s been this long

job ad upon
job ad upon job ad upon

the unfinished novel
half-assed written poems

no money source

all my energy gone because
hard efforts and hope
die hard and the soul suck
is more taxing
than any job I ever held
but I need one now
this panic sets in when
it’s been this long
one break is all
I need

just one
kind universe please
just one

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2013 – Bobby Travis – All Rights Reserved.

the first one
she wanted to look good
on paper
that was important to her
the degrees
plaques and certificates
on the wall and
the second one she had
ever changing visions of
how she thought our life
would look and

both the first and the last
made it their job
to remind me
on every waking day of
how I would never keep up
or accomplish what
they dreamed our lives to be

they wanted to change me
to fit inside a photograph
one taken by a camera held
by only two hands not four

it’s no wonder I have no idea
where they are today or
what they’re doing and I’m completely
okay with that

 

 

 

Copyright © 2013 – Bobby Travis – All Rights Reserved.

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