Wednesday, September 27, 2006
A Can of Duality
a can
rounded top
sharp edges
metaphor
for life
a scent left
waivers as
i try to turn
twist or contort
Bullshit
A poet cannot
Write a real
Poem
About a can of
A poet writes
His best poems
In the shower
Or on the toilet
A certain solitude
Concentration is key.
A poet writes
In the park on a sterile
Bench smelling nature
Observe and record.
A poet writes
In the dark
Drunk and a whore
In bed, chuckling to himself
While a bottle
Lay on his desk.
A poet writes
In academia
Around sophisticated peers
Discussing our work
The classics and the new classics
That may not be so classic
In a couple years.
But a poet does not
Write about a can of beans
Pork and beans at that.
rounded top
sharp edges
metaphor
for life
a scent left
waivers as
i try to turn
twist or contort
Bullshit
A poet cannot
Write a real
Poem
About a can of
A poet writes
His best poems
In the shower
Or on the toilet
A certain solitude
Concentration is key.
A poet writes
In the park on a sterile
Bench smelling nature
Observe and record.
A poet writes
In the dark
Drunk and a whore
In bed, chuckling to himself
While a bottle
Lay on his desk.
A poet writes
In academia
Around sophisticated peers
Discussing our work
The classics and the new classics
That may not be so classic
In a couple years.
But a poet does not
Write about a can of beans
Pork and beans at that.
A Can of Duality
a can
rounded top
sharp edges
metaphor
for life
a scent left
waivers as
i try to turn
twist or contort
Bullshit
A poet cannot
Write a real
Poem
About a can of
A poet writes
His best poems
In the shower
Or on the toilet
A certain solitude
Concentration is key.
A poet writes
In the park on a sterile
Bench smelling nature
Observe and record.
A poet writes
In the dark
Drunk and a whore
In bed, chuckling to himself
While a bottle
Lay on his desk.
A poet writes
In academia
Around sophisticated peers
Discussing our work
The classics and the new classics
That may not be so classic
In a couple years.
But a poet does not
Write about a can of beans
Pork and beans at that.
rounded top
sharp edges
metaphor
for life
a scent left
waivers as
i try to turn
twist or contort
Bullshit
A poet cannot
Write a real
Poem
About a can of
A poet writes
His best poems
In the shower
Or on the toilet
A certain solitude
Concentration is key.
A poet writes
In the park on a sterile
Bench smelling nature
Observe and record.
A poet writes
In the dark
Drunk and a whore
In bed, chuckling to himself
While a bottle
Lay on his desk.
A poet writes
In academia
Around sophisticated peers
Discussing our work
The classics and the new classics
That may not be so classic
In a couple years.
But a poet does not
Write about a can of beans
Pork and beans at that.
A Can of Duality
a can
rounded top
sharp edges
metaphor
for life
a scent left
waivers as
i try to turn
twist or contort
Bullshit
A poet cannot
Write a real
Poem
About a can of
A poet writes
His best poems
In the shower
Or on the toilet
A certain solitude
Concentration is key.
A poet writes
In the park on a sterile
Bench smelling nature
Observe and record.
A poet writes
In the dark
Drunk and a whore
In bed, chuckling to himself
While a bottle
Lay on his desk.
A poet writes
In academia
Around sophisticated peers
Discussing our work
The classics and the new classics
That may not be so classic
In a couple years.
But a poet does not
Write about a can of beans
Pork and beans at that.
rounded top
sharp edges
metaphor
for life
a scent left
waivers as
i try to turn
twist or contort
Bullshit
A poet cannot
Write a real
Poem
About a can of
A poet writes
His best poems
In the shower
Or on the toilet
A certain solitude
Concentration is key.
A poet writes
In the park on a sterile
Bench smelling nature
Observe and record.
A poet writes
In the dark
Drunk and a whore
In bed, chuckling to himself
While a bottle
Lay on his desk.
A poet writes
In academia
Around sophisticated peers
Discussing our work
The classics and the new classics
That may not be so classic
In a couple years.
But a poet does not
Write about a can of beans
Pork and beans at that.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
The Last Conversation
She’s leaving in a few hours and calls
saying she cannot sleep
I say I hope she is safe
she seems to be happy and I hope
she is.
She seems to think this month will be
a time to think and grow and learn
and it may take longer than a month
but I want to see her in a month
I inject into the somewhat pleasant
conversation she seems to think it may take
more than a month.
A month can be a long time when you call
everyday when you call to hear a certain voice
on the other line pick up.
She thinks I do not realize it’s over
I said it’s ok it’s over but lets move on
she agrees for awhile until we talk about
october and how I will not be able to wait to see her.
She says we cannot just pick up where we started
a new friendship of sorts grown out of the shit left over.
She asks me what I am doing on a specific day next month
I tell her I’ll be where she is going to be at
she says why you don’t even care about them
you would just go see them because of me
well no but ok but I’ll be there nonetheless
we can talk if you are ready
She starts talking while I’m talking we both say
what we want to say ignoring what the other
may or may not be saying
I hear before she hangs up I don’t want you there
calling back she admits that she should go
she needs to be up in a few hours to board
a flight that will take her away for a month
I already miss her.
saying she cannot sleep
I say I hope she is safe
she seems to be happy and I hope
she is.
She seems to think this month will be
a time to think and grow and learn
and it may take longer than a month
but I want to see her in a month
I inject into the somewhat pleasant
conversation she seems to think it may take
more than a month.
A month can be a long time when you call
everyday when you call to hear a certain voice
on the other line pick up.
She thinks I do not realize it’s over
I said it’s ok it’s over but lets move on
she agrees for awhile until we talk about
october and how I will not be able to wait to see her.
She says we cannot just pick up where we started
a new friendship of sorts grown out of the shit left over.
She asks me what I am doing on a specific day next month
I tell her I’ll be where she is going to be at
she says why you don’t even care about them
you would just go see them because of me
well no but ok but I’ll be there nonetheless
we can talk if you are ready
She starts talking while I’m talking we both say
what we want to say ignoring what the other
may or may not be saying
I hear before she hangs up I don’t want you there
calling back she admits that she should go
she needs to be up in a few hours to board
a flight that will take her away for a month
I already miss her.
A Commercial
A Commercial
the politician on my tv
says he likes puppies
says he would never hurt a puppy
am I a puppy?
his eyes never look right at you
he seems intense
he creeps me out
he seems to be a good citizen
his suit is pressed
his smile is too earnest
his teeth too white
he uses a puppy on his commercial
the cameras never lie
but we seem to do
public service frightens me
to be responsible for myself
and my own misguided actions is often too much
the politician on my tv
says he likes puppies
says he would never hurt a puppy
am I a puppy?
his eyes never look right at you
he seems intense
he creeps me out
he seems to be a good citizen
his suit is pressed
his smile is too earnest
his teeth too white
he uses a puppy on his commercial
the cameras never lie
but we seem to do
public service frightens me
to be responsible for myself
and my own misguided actions is often too much
Friday, September 22, 2006
The Last Day of Summer
It’s the last day of summer.
And I’m all out
of metaphors.
A few days ago, she called
she was taking a trip
away from me
for a couple months
she knew I would not like it
but said, “I think it’ll be good for you”
Whenever I spoke like that
I think she knew what I meant.
I told her to not go.
It’s the last day of summer.
She asked me if I was in love
with someone else
I was more concerned
with her leaving
then answering her question
She thought my silence
was an admission of guilt
saying she knew I had to have someone
I didn’t but she didn’t know that.
She didn’t know how I spent most of my days.
My room was not just 4 walls
some things never get let down.
I was different until I met her.
It’s the last day of summer and I’m fucked up.
Do you like someone?
I thought “I don’t even like myself”
she hates when I get mad
And she cries then I cry.
Then we both yell and cry.
A mess.
I tell her
it comes from the inside
it burns me up
and then I explode.
Suppression Freud would say
fuck Freud, the only cure I need is a cold beer.
but we don’t have any beer.
Just one apple cider
that has been in the fridge
since the 4th of July.
It’s the last day of summer.
She tells me she wants us to be friends
when she comes back
we can be close like we used to be
I told her I can’t suppress my feelings for her.
I can’t sit this one out.
I told her too many people
nowadays just are not passionate anymore
I want love or hate no grayness
she thinks I’m a fucked up person
but I told her not to let people control her
or how she feels.
Be true (cheesy movie line)
“Are you doing this for yourself”
It’s the last day of the summer.
I’m here in my room on a Friday night
I seem to be mad at the world.
She won’t answer her phone
she said she considered
seeing me before she left
I told her she needs to be strong
to see me one last time
to look me in the eye
be strong.
Too many people think it over
take a chance
take some action
I can see it now on T shirts and bumper stickers.
don’t just sit there and take it
like I’m doing.
It’s the last day of summer.
I don’t remember our last conversation
I think it ended with her crying and me apologizing
Gosh we both love to hurt each other
and we hate to love each other
a paradox of emotion.
It’s the last day of summer.
Is this it?
And I’m all out
of metaphors.
A few days ago, she called
she was taking a trip
away from me
for a couple months
she knew I would not like it
but said, “I think it’ll be good for you”
Whenever I spoke like that
I think she knew what I meant.
I told her to not go.
It’s the last day of summer.
She asked me if I was in love
with someone else
I was more concerned
with her leaving
then answering her question
She thought my silence
was an admission of guilt
saying she knew I had to have someone
I didn’t but she didn’t know that.
She didn’t know how I spent most of my days.
My room was not just 4 walls
some things never get let down.
I was different until I met her.
It’s the last day of summer and I’m fucked up.
Do you like someone?
I thought “I don’t even like myself”
she hates when I get mad
And she cries then I cry.
Then we both yell and cry.
A mess.
I tell her
it comes from the inside
it burns me up
and then I explode.
Suppression Freud would say
fuck Freud, the only cure I need is a cold beer.
but we don’t have any beer.
Just one apple cider
that has been in the fridge
since the 4th of July.
It’s the last day of summer.
She tells me she wants us to be friends
when she comes back
we can be close like we used to be
I told her I can’t suppress my feelings for her.
I can’t sit this one out.
I told her too many people
nowadays just are not passionate anymore
I want love or hate no grayness
she thinks I’m a fucked up person
but I told her not to let people control her
or how she feels.
Be true (cheesy movie line)
“Are you doing this for yourself”
It’s the last day of the summer.
I’m here in my room on a Friday night
I seem to be mad at the world.
She won’t answer her phone
she said she considered
seeing me before she left
I told her she needs to be strong
to see me one last time
to look me in the eye
be strong.
Too many people think it over
take a chance
take some action
I can see it now on T shirts and bumper stickers.
don’t just sit there and take it
like I’m doing.
It’s the last day of summer.
I don’t remember our last conversation
I think it ended with her crying and me apologizing
Gosh we both love to hurt each other
and we hate to love each other
a paradox of emotion.
It’s the last day of summer.
Is this it?
Monday, September 18, 2006
I (I I) Arrive (Identify)
I
Broad sentiment of the word
for one reason
man to man whistle
broken phrases,
whisper on sea foam
Cloudy gloom
skies over
3:00pm tick tock
Sacrifice was not a cause of revolution
for anyone in these times
Understand the man spoke to the pasty mother losing a child in the market
Voices bounce inside a tunnel
under the guise of protection
suspicion of skin disease
pigment spiral
sweaty palms
clinging to laminated stock
rotate.
II
Post-modern departure, give way for change by the masters.
Conversation locked in and loaded
Cross cultural mind sets divulge
Spoken to the point, offensive nature of tension
a conundrum found in crossing the Delaware a hole in the toll booth
Rivers run from false truths to produce a thesis of fear
scoffing your feet on the welcome mat
Another dub poem from "III.Point of Arrival (Identification)"
http://locusruine.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_locusruine_archive.html
Broad sentiment of the word
for one reason
man to man whistle
broken phrases,
whisper on sea foam
Cloudy gloom
skies over
3:00pm tick tock
Sacrifice was not a cause of revolution
for anyone in these times
Understand the man spoke to the pasty mother losing a child in the market
Voices bounce inside a tunnel
under the guise of protection
suspicion of skin disease
pigment spiral
sweaty palms
clinging to laminated stock
rotate.
II
Post-modern departure, give way for change by the masters.
Conversation locked in and loaded
Cross cultural mind sets divulge
Spoken to the point, offensive nature of tension
a conundrum found in crossing the Delaware a hole in the toll booth
Rivers run from false truths to produce a thesis of fear
scoffing your feet on the welcome mat
Another dub poem from "III.Point of Arrival (Identification)"
http://locusruine.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_locusruine_archive.html
