good genes.


I was tired of watching her carry

so much, so I lent my back to help-

And I never felt a thing so heavy

as the life she was living. My

legs were strong from running and

my back was straight from good

genes. “Let it go” she told once

we’d crossed, and I couldn’t

because it was too much for

just one of us. So we walked-

and pieces fell off on the side

of the road. Soon it was light

enough for us to stand up.

And she looked at the sun and

the sky and her green eyes met

dirty brown eyes - two thankful

spines seeing for the first time.

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Just take my hand.

I’ll put the flashers on -

Yes I know it’s late

for pedestrians to walk

across The George

Washington Bridge.

I’m already pulled over-

and the Civic barely

made it so let it count

for something. Thank

you for saving me and

for the last year, it’s been

the best one of my life.

You see all these cables,

all these lights? I used to

think of men building this-

You know 12 of them

died? I get romantic

about architecture- how

it exists for you and I,

even in the crowded

moments - this city is

crowded all the time.

This is where I first

felt…  driving across

the lower level, not

sure if you remember.

You said you found it

amazing, in the face of

forever- which is just the

length of a playlist, we

get these moments

in love better than

any author can capture-

the 3am Hudson River

and how your wrist feels

after the lights go off in

a movie theater.

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River Jabronis.

Hey! Ive gotten quite a few new followers in the last few days. I’m Nick! That’s Jack the dog (my rescue pup). We’re in the Poconos hanging out in nature and making silly faces at each other. I’m a writer from Queens, NY by way of my home in Northern New Jersey. You can check out my work at:

On Amazon

On Goodreads

And, as always, follow me @NickOrsini on Twitter because I bring the ruckus.

I’m heading to an early screening of Dawn of the Planet of the Apes tonight courtesy of my main Wednesday hookup, Midtown Comics.

Thanks for following the blog, liking the poems. My new book The Mega is currently in its second edit and I hope to have it in bookstores and online so so soon! So many exciting things to roll out with that book. Stay tuned!


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Command and Conquer Red Alert 2

@nickorsini follow me to freedom

I spent all I ever had, every last coin.

This Red Alert 2 campaign had been paused

for three years while I decided how

the miniature war could keep going. And we

fight on for God and country and a kiss on

a Thursday that turns my face into the

weekend, swollen with sun and things I

can’t afford. When are you ever the winner?

So I was spinning, standing there in front

of a claw game designed to kill me. If I

could only hook the tag on Donkey Kong,

I would have gone home with someone.

Give me air-conditioning. Give me the fruit

pops that are nothing but syrup. Give me

brain freeze in hopes it dulls my personality.

And that’s how Memorial Day ended, with

me never getting over my decision to wear

Madras - should have stuck to cutoffs.

Should have kept fighting for that Thursday,

but I hit the space bar. There’s always a

small barrack ready to make me go to war.

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Wet, Hot American Summer


I spent one wet, hot American summer

leaning against Blockbuster across

the street from Pilgrim Diner. Suburban

skies still catch fire and the melted soles

of my Airwalks are still on your driveway.

The night before she died she asked

if I partied down in The Queen City. I told

her exit 63 was twenty exits too far for me.

I drove her home. The next morning she

was gone - a packed bag strewn across

the road. You could hear the sirens from

the horror section, from my booth you

could see the smoke. I took a walk that

never ended, transparent with sweat.

They found me at Golden Palace Buffet,

eleven miles away tucked on Route 10.

There were no sidewalks the entire

way home as I let the dry air wash

me in dirt and every car horn.

You were a ledge, a couple molecules

left as the season changed again.

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The Entitlement Problem

So - as some of you know, at a recent Pity Sex/Tiger’s Jaw show in Williamsburg, fans rushed the stage on two separate instances to try to kiss Britty Drake (Pity Sex) and Brianna Collins (Tiger’s Jaw). This, to me, is pretty disgusting, even more disheartening reading how offput and uncomfortable it made the two performers. I wrote an article for Thought Catalog about the incident here:

The Entitlement Problem And Learning To Not Kiss Girls In Bands

Thanks for reading it. It’s important. 

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You Know Nothing, Jon Snow.

Hey! - so I’m listening to Spotify (Real Friends at the moment) so let’s talk

Ask me a question

About anything - writing, the world cup, poetry, books, publishing, adopting a dog, pop punk, new york city, pro rasslin, horror movies, comic books, whatever.

Thursday Spotify Fireside Chat.

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two-dollar movie tuesday


Maybe it wouldn’t be perfect,

just nice enough to suffice

while we’re in your one-

bedroom listening to

David Comes to Life.

Woodstock roars around

us, just quiet enough

at night. You can hear the

2-dollar movie dialogue

if you place your ear just

right. Kill ourselves in

front of Smokes-4-Less

just to give meaning to

the time - I’ll let you

know who I want to

be as soon as I decide.

But for now we can stay

nothing, two nobodies on

a bench - me in my own

jersey and you in your

stained dress. I can wash

the night from my clothes,

but it never comes off my

hands. I’ve got a plan:

to drink for forty days

like in the liner notes.

Living a song that every-

body seems to know.


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this is a poem I wrote about the town I’m from. It’s featuring my small dog Jack who is very warm. I am very warm.

Buy a book here

or here

Follow me on Twitter because I’m uncensored as hell always

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Your First Year At Rider University.

@nickorsini …follow me on twitter!

Your first year at Rider, you thought

you were dying when you caught

that virus - Gatorade and comics

and toast. When I met you, I loved

you the most. A mop of red hair

weighed down with a fever, thumb-

prints on books and a touch of

amnesia. Friends called you

contagious and warned against

breathing, but I brought you

Lipton Soup while we projected

Chappelle’s Show on the ceiling.

You worked at Student Activities,

renting out DVDs to stoners while

the blue polo hung off me at Dairy

Queen. You took me to your

suburb, pointing while driving to

your parking lots and your diners

and your disappointing moments.

You were a Phlox and a fox: a sight

to see just as soon as it’s gone.

You never got me sick, not even a

cough- I got close, not close enough.

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