4 Poems by Gabriel Hart @GabrielHart77

Punk Noir Magazine



Honey your face is burning

Just like some eclipsed sun 

And deep inside of it, hurting

Is my own bitten tongue

The good news: I’m only like this with you

I’m neither fire nor water

I reside

Writhing in-between

Where all those angry waves crash down

Extinguishing infernal dreams

Don’t forget: I’m only like this with you

You were born in the sky

I dragged you down 

To the ground

I whispered to you,

“Everything is subject to change.”

You wanted shit so clean

We protest endlessly

Against our own personalities

Isn’t that strange?

Yes, for some reason I’m drawn to the dirt

I prefer to keep nice healthy roots

But please promise not to get hurt

If I start bearing rotten fruit

I regret: I’m only like this with you



Oh goddamn these forty day rains

When I keep on tripping 

Over new bloodstains

We never seem to get it 

Out of our carpets

So we move all our things 

To the next suicide apartment

Oh, looky – there’s a vacancy!

Thanks to a considerate OD

In these catacombs where we sleep

Under shadows of swaying palm trees

But there – a new crime against the sky

It was committed by her and me

It’s the trash from both of our hearts

An ugly, towering old heap

The doorbell rings – it’s World War Three 

She can make a soldier cry

With one stab from her eye

But she won’t approve

Of blood in the room

She didn’t shed herself

So I wiped it off the wall

Squeezed it into a bottle

And placed it on the shelf

Oh, wake up your dead brain cells if you wanna know what happened and you don’t wanna hear a lie!

I’m afraid of what I do

So I’m hiding it from you

‘Cause if I didn’t, you’d just find some other guy

Can we look on the bright side?

The blood wasn’t mine.



They dragged me, kicking and screaming

Breaking every single thing made of glass

While my clumsy boots of concrete

Disobeyed everything I asked

Those boys, they stole me away 

From my own place

‘Cause they knew the way to my heart

Was their fists through my face



Since we have no mayor here, I’ve declared myself as him

Who else will pardon my Personal Enemy #1 of all her sin?

With no police station 

Only one fire-engine to our name

I’ll help myself to persecution

A way to extinguish the flame

Since every road that leads to you is one we’ve never paved

I’ll avoid our single church as well




Gabriel Hart lives in Morongo Valley in California’s High Desert. His new Palm Springs crime-fiction novelette A Return To Spring is out now Mannison Press. He’s also the author of dipso-surrealist noir twin-novel Virgins In Reverse / The Intrusion (Traveling Shoes Press). Other works have appeared in Pulp ModernShotgun Honey, ExPat Press, Bristol Noir, Black Hare Press (Australia), and Crime Poetry Weekly. He is a regular contributor to Lit Reactor,EconoClash Review, Space Cowboy’s Simultaneous Timespodcast, as well as L.A. Record, a Los Angeles underground music publication. Hart also taught the writing workshop for Mil-Tree, a non-profit reach out program for Vets and Active Duty Military to heal the wounds of war.

His musical alter-ego sees him as the ringleader of the L.A. based punk-noir Wall of Sound group Jail Weddings, who released their third album Wilted Eden in 2019