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I don’t yearn to be right, I yearn to write. If you dig my work, please feel free to buy me a coffee at: Ko-fi.com/michaelcentrone

A Poem For Artists

Photo by Petri Heiskanen on Unsplash

This poem is sponsored by my current deprecatory day job.
If you enjoy this piece don’t forget to strike, lament,
and ring that noncooperation bell!

Be an influence
not an “influencer”
Be (your name here)
not a brand

The pressure to stack paper
will combust-a-move
and puff a smokescreen
concealing your soul
Hack away at your muse
Don’t posture as a hack

Be an influence
not an “influencer”
Be (your name here)
not a brand

Make your art dance for itself
not for snakes
Expose your nude emotions
Resist whoring them out to corporations
Their anaconda don’t want none
unless they got one$, hun…


Don’t mind me

Photo by Emily Morter on Unsplash

Sometimes this being-human-thing gets too real for me —
acknowledging that watching TV is the simple act of staring at flashing lights

Depersonalization triggers my imagination

I smirk when I perceive eating and drinking as the literal feeding of a head
It makes heads cuter

The physical body is a utilitarian apparatus for the mind’s entertainment —
like a tour bus

My primal animalistic urges — sex, violence, anarchy — are suppressed by a code of civility and potential post-life consequences
Is this by design?

Why do I retain a name?
Animals don’t need to name each other
And we are…


A Poem

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

My father gave up his dream of becoming a biologist
As an artist, I live for dreams
Impossible for me to abandon them
Quitting-gene wasn’t passed down

My creativity —
fueled by intrigue for
living organisms,
their behavior, physiology,
adaptability
No sins of the father inherited

An ecosystem of inspiration surrounds me—
distribution of life
It’s my overwhelming advantage
in overcoming defeatism —
a feat he could not perform

Intuition within me
to incorporate nature’s complexities,
morphology into my craft —
never denying the muse
No following in his footsteps

Shame —
he couldn’t internally raise his passion
I ponder on…


suck

Photo by Luke Jones on Unsplash

I consume a steady diet of humans every day
I want to love them,
I really do,
but they make it so fuckin’ hard to be stomached

They’re filthy little buggers
rife with bacteria and diseases,
cannibalistic

I watch them scurry in disgust
They turn their spineless backs
to fellow sufferers —
preoccupied gorging on shit;
that’s why they give me indigestion

I ate a bowl of Homo-Sapiens today,
“Self-interest Crunch, with all-mans” in lymph milk (healthier than whole),
and I wanted to kill someone afterwards —
human glucose can really alter my mood quickly
Lamentably, their popular brand is…


A poem for Dad

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

We’re on our own now
but I feel you saying
in your stubborn, didactic tone,
“Nah, you’re never gonna be alone” —
fathering from beyond
educating me
from a realm of all-truth

You’ve learned the secret of all secrets,
become one with peace
You’ll be consoling in spirit,
breaking me off a piece —
providing knowledge I need
to put me at ease

When my demons need to be battled with,
I can summon you now
to fight alongside me
from the inside —
a toughness upgrade

My old man is gone,
rendering me a new man
without access to new advice
or…


A Poem

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

Father’s Day Eve

Day after you were discharged
and brought to your final bed
It’s there that I’m giving thanks
to you

Funny,
as I’m saying what I need to,
I’m picturing you telling the story
of what you’re going through
after the fact
But I know there will be no after

You think you’re dreaming,
but you’re wrong
I am here
sitting at the foot,
saying what I need to,
even if it might not be getting through

Don’t worry about us anymore
You can finally rest,
set free your stress
You did your best
Be comfortable at last


A poem

Photo by Kaijia on Unsplash

A 50-storey tidal wave approaches,
blotting out the sun
Although it’s cascading slowly,
there’s nowhere to run

Just brace for impact,
say a prayer or two
The rumbling of a rising tide —
there’s nothing left to do

Kneel in awe at the gigantic wet wall
Tell my present company “I love you”
Never thought it would end like this:
totally devoured by a deep blue

I swallow the trampling SMACK,
am hoisted by the liquid skyscraper
An unprecedented panic gushing over me;
feeling as if I’ve burst into vapor

Oxygen is inaccessible,
yet I’m still conscious and alert
Reality has become…


Recalling my first time performing with a band in front of an audience

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

I have been singing, yelling, and growling for heavy metal, hard rock, death metal, and hardcore bands for over two decades. Being a lead vocalist has granted me life-changing opportunities to tour and play shows in many different parts of the world.

The most instantly rewarding part about being a musician, to me, is playing live. There’s no bigger release than slamming around a stage for ultra-violent mosh pits, sweaty headbangers, and rabid fans yelling lyrics, spraying spit right back at my face.

My first experience being seduced by the stage, however, didn’t exactly entail as much intense action —…


A poetic dialogue

Photo by Jan Kopřiva on Unsplash

Hello down there!

Yeah?

This hole you’ve dug is way too deep!
Did you forget the standard depth?

Thanks for finally noticing!
And no, I knew it!

We’re sorry we lost track of you!
We thought you were digging in compliance with our procedure!

Great job supervising!

Fair enough, we deserve the sarcasm,
and we accept responsibility for your current predicament!

Predicaments have been my life, so it’s no big deal!

That’s not true; we’ve known you your whole life!

Out of curiosity, why did you continue digging excessively?

I just fell into a groove!
It felt right!

Felt right…


A poem for letting go

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

You thought you were helping me
keeping me determined
providing an edge

But all along you were eating away
weakening my ability
to handle my existence

You are a flimsy foundation
on which no positivity can be built
while negativity can lay bricks easily

You thought you were freeing me
motivating me to be strong
but I felt like a trapped frail little boy

Too stubborn to let me acknowledge
that I do all I can within my control
and to move on

Instead you grabbed a comfy seat and popcorn
watched as I destroyed myself
for an entire year

Michael Centrone

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