It's ok to write poems and put them here

Nature Doc on a Loop

I want someone to grip my wrists
and look straight back at me
I want the clock to stop,
so I can take a look and see
that maybe I’ve been wandering
for a while too long,
like a loose broken turnstile,
spinning cleanly, unbound,
though not exactly uninhibited or free.

It’s not a tragedy.
It can be another moment that wasn’t meant to be,
the aftermath becomes the new normal,
the temporary is now the permanent,
a workaround to adjust to the instability,
to help cover up what is still wide open.

Do you see why I need someone to grab hold of my wrists?
Sometimes I need a moment.

It seems like a lot of people want this movie to end,
but I don’t.
The point is moot.
This theater plays films on a loop.
The lead roles shift back and forth
and with time, we all learn each other’s lines.
One of the characters is you.
I don’t remember where our words came from
but as you say them
my lips might move too,
knowing that it can and cannot be true.

I tried to run away from home once
I had internalized their arguments and
believed they were both right.
Missouri without a car is close to impossible
a child walking down a highway with a backpack
knows there is no point
kicks some dust off the shoulder
but isn’t yet ready to be picked up.

Everyone I know is overloaded.
Their clients are falling from the windows
and squeezing back in through the front doors.
Even their ledgers seem to be near their limits.

I feel a kind of total emptiness.
The grass grows back strong when
my weight is lifted off of it.
Turns out the blades are indifferent.

I’m one weird ass bird and you are the trees
Your roots are strong and I’m in the breeze.
I can put my home in your branches
and hide in your leaves.
I have no mouths to feed,
the worms I catch are all for me.

I’m on the tip of a feather, then
I sink heavy, far and deep,
the rush of living distilled into a moment of peace
under your familiar canopy.

I can never be late here.

for some reason i've been writing a lot recently, and i really don't want to have to get a MFA and wait to get to be published in a friend's book before i am credentialed to put a poem in a public space. maybe you feel that way too, so please post yr poems if you want. otherwise i'll just keep posting mine, who fucking cares

Loose Control

Sometimes I try to put myself in a state,
call it Loose Control, for now,
where expressive results are bent into javelined roads,
temporary paths getting all covered up
and forgotten under relentless waves of new stuff.

Imagine automatic writing but more visual,
thin and slivering lines instead of language,
the brush’s residuals replacing the text.

When I Loosely Control my hand starts to move
on its own, independently,
thickened water sloshingly flying
up and around the edges of a bucket
which is swirling in elliptical orbits,
the inverse of my motions,
the effects of my causes becoming
untethered from their origins,
and yet I know that I am part of it all.
It is from me and yet it doesn’t see me back.

A forgotten mark gets scattered up,
reforms as a ladder and tips
toward new directions,
one of many landing strips,
loud movement then stillness,
a flood and then a covenant.

I make my bed and I sleep on top of it.
My heart beats are uninterrupted.
They make me live so I listen,
five liters of blood in a circuit,
all sustained without a rhythm.
I barely understand but I know I’ll wake up.

out of this tape hiss comes some light

i've been dropped off here,
old train running on a fresh sea,
with fingertips all cut up and worn down from
constant use, my newer skin turns rough

I wanted someone to talk to but instead I had a beer or two.
it’s only more water pushing against my barricades.
we build ourselves back up and see each other off at the door.
I wonder who is watching who.
I wonder how long I can keep this up.
I think about what it would be like to see you stop.

I broke your locks but fixed your door sweep.
Your car was fine but I brought it to the shop.
I made your day easier and that was enough.

Tough love, that’s kid stuff.
I’ll clean the dirt off, don’t worry.
Your hands are blistered.
Mine are sweating. My glasses fogged up.
But I still drop them off at school.

Two-step around the room.
The drums and the singing
and I’m feeling warm again.
I’m stretched out and dry.
crushed in, drawn tight
I haven’t touched skin so soft in years,
my knuckles pop like firecrackers,
My hands are stupid bricks.
My WPM is 96.
The words pile up and I keep writing.

There’s a ship that sails back.
I can still see it.
I think about my sense of humanity.
I think I saw my spirit dancing
with the one that brought me,
the thought which took me out on the town and spun me sideways,
our long naps in the evenings,
unwarned,
unearned,
walking on air, enchanted.

a moving checkmark has caught my eye
starkly black on blue tinted gray.
2 birds to the left, 6 to the right
1 at the head
a flying nonet
not at all like a Monet
but beautiful all the same

you had to be there I suppose.

Hey look, we’re right on time.
This place has been designated for our recovery.
It’s sponsored by a local charcuterie.

You know I’m only kidding
and the bit is that there’s nothing to get
(everyone’s least favorite)

What do you know, we’re in another line
This place is dedicated to making money
just like pretty much everywhere else
now that anyone or anything can be a market
our dreams got commodified in the bargain

Remember those glow-in-the-dark ceiling star kits?
Did you ever peel them off,
or did someone else do it without your say?
And what happened to that dog we had, anyway?

Some kids recreate the solar system
at a 36 billion to one ratio
“whaaaah bakkken-mah day”, old man me may say, “o kai,
Pluto was still part of the solar system”
as if it disappeared from existence altogether when it lost its place
as the 9th and furthest planet on the way
to waypoints in other galaxies
it’s still there.
It’s still cold.

Old man me complains a lot, probably
I used to think about him every day,
trying to avoid becoming him.
The more I think of him the closer he gets,
so I drew a line and put myself on one side of it,
turned 180 degrees and went on autopilot
it means smoking in the sunroom and washing down
pizza crust with another beer on the way to the couch.
When I finally turn around I know what to expect.
Old man me’s shadow will be my own before long,
a long-scheduled appointment well met.
I shake his hand and we walk back into our apartment.
He watches the shows and I hit refresh.

That’s a part of our bargain.
It’s about forgiveness.

I have quite a bit to apologize for.
He at least acknowledges that it happened
Then he goes on and on and makes no sense.
I try to listen, but can’t.

That’s when I want to think of something else.

That’s when I think about what I think a home is
What we’ve all been through, and
Where have we gone, and
what my friends have seen, their new families are growing.
It’s aways the right season for fertility,
I see all their children and I think “what if that was me?”
And in every single case, I would be happy.
My friends mean a lot to me. They keep me going.
I think if I fall on my face they’ll love me all the more for it.
That means everything to me.
That lets me remember my inner child,
cartwheeling straight down the street,
sliding, careening, skinning a knee,
getting all bent out of shape
from anyone or anything I might meet
knowing full well I have a place for recovery.
Not my local Schnucks or wise-ass charcuteries
but with my chosen family, the ones who are really there
(and don’t charge an arm and a leg and a fee,

Happy anniversary to 1 of 365.25 people, on average, we might meet
Soon the shops will open with the year’s first work week.
I’m rooting for you, from the margins.
Unemployed by choice, that’s the jargon
I’ve rarely said “beg your pardon?”
I usually say “I’m sorry?” and regret my decision of words immediately
the theater of the absurd grows stale quickly
let’s break bread and dry it out completely.

Poetry
like pottery
left me cold
as a pot of tea
in the studio

Shins

Whose thistle-blistered shin is this?
The other one must surely miss
Its criss-crossed country counterpart
If one is one and two are two how many shins am I to lose
To bracken stumbles cuts and grazes, nettle stings and turns of phrases
Sod this for a barrel of laughs
I'd rather use the underpass

Borstal sorcerers

Don't grouse on my greasy undergarments with your oleaginous jeremiads
Metastatic angst in the antechamber of Anthea Turner's tanning atelier
Hock your snot into a truffled fist, you sunny-spayed evangelists
Serve my sirloin on a praxis of half-shined rag-and-iron colliders
Billious squalls from the Gorbals bill tables while we celebrate Clark Gable's nasty garlic nails.
Slop a bucket of hot-steam gas on the coalface of the midnight mass
Sick chicks peck at plastic packaging
Dejected ingestion of a pupper's plaything
Rubber throats on the road start to rollick:
"Hen, you've had your fillet!"
You embattled borstal sorcerers

All mine were written into my phone while deeply hungover

(no match for KM's work of course, which I'm loving)

i'm just a doof in the wind, dog latin

Slow synth waves wash over 2am
It’s 1994 or 2024, doesn’t matter
I didn’t have Nickelodeon
I’m falling asleep
I might be falling again,
By all signs I am
(Each step is a kind of broken forward motion)
According to Laurie Anderson.
We can’t bothered paying too much attention right now
In the midst of the everpresent competition of the senses
with touches and smells and sounds and visions,
And on and on in bottomless provisions
The brooms grow arms and pick up the buckets
and flood their lair in lemminglike motions

It tastes like wine
It tastes like honey

Let’s dim these lights and turn up their hues
a degree or two warmer then cool daylight
The heat’s on 72
I’m sweating, through the sheets
I see you moving,
Do you see me watching
I hope you do.

We could just go.
We could go to the Blue Lagoon.
There’s a free layover at Reykjavik
On the way to Europe
or at least there used to be.
I haven’t really left this town in a week or three.
You sit in the sulfuric water and smell like eggs.
Weird for a minute but plenty-fine in a daze,
3-feet deep water, half crouch
The low-flying clouds of steam out the mouth
Hot stones on your cheeks against the North Atlantic breeze
For us it might be heaven
For others it’s a Tuesday soak
One to take off work and enjoy a float
facedown for as long as their lungs can handle it
Then flip and spread the arms toward all four directions,
The cardinals, the original sin,
Imagine you’re the tail of a lizard
Feeling left and right and centered
As naturally as our hearts beat and lungs breathe,
We’re so lucky to sit at the top of these complicated systems,
We don’t understand but we benefit from them
To live our lives in a way that honors that gift is to
repay back only part of what we’ve been given
To truly enjoy a sliver of the life
Is to be adrift at sea, at home with the upheaval

I was really sick on a small boat the open sea there, near Iceland.
We had paid a small fee to try to see a whale swim.
Now I’m the boy on the big wide cold open ocean for the first time since
his father drowned himself semi-voluntarily,
probably out of ignorance,
Out of a misplaced faith in his voice of intuition,
One voice out of many in conversation,
A form of improvised unpredictable organization,
Sorted starting with numbers a
Before the letters
I opened my eyes and my stomach went sideways,
I almost threw up but sat my way out of it.
I closed my eyes and leaned back my head
Against the cabin and the shapes inside my lids
Watching some puffins landing near a dark cave lit up
by a tourist captain playing an echoing woodwind
An alto saxophone with an unexpected soulful lilt,
A long quiet note held steady with tremolo flicks
Bouncing off the walls and my own index fingers and wrists
Tapping along to the the perfect story, followed by that solo,
the one I just mentioned.
I was haunted, what’s wrong with me, live.

unexpectedly
subtle black cat climbs the fence
leaves night incomplete

Dr. Howl

The moving men just finished
There are two of them, two guys, along with a truck
They’re dancing in the front cabin
and filling it up with vape smoke and laughing
hotboxing at 3pm, done with their shift

One of my neighbors is leaving
but I didn’t see who it was

There’s a beagle next door that I call Dr. Howl
The good doctor documents his agony
When his walker walks off to work
he yooowls to absurd length
caterwauls until no one can stand it

We all struggled with his loneliness
Those of us living within a 200-foot radius, that is
On some mornings it would go on for hours.
He’d clock in early then go back to bed
only to wake up again around 9am
to resume his fit at an even greater volume

I saw the Doctor Howl in his apartment’s side window sometimes
We’d make eye contact while I locked my front door
I loved seeing him in his window frame, looking at me
He single-handedly ruined my sleeping patterns
and I’d give him some more time, I’d give him a treat, if I saw him

Now the truck and the two guys are gone
There’s a large empty space where it was
I haven’t heard a howl all day
now to think of it
I wonder where that sad boy is

I hope he’s running in a big open space
miles away from any other property
barking and huffing and squalling
the doctor in his countryside residence, at peace

That's great

thank you dog latin! what is very strange is that when i finished that yesterday, i posted a video clip of me reading it, and almost the instant i hit send, i heard Dr. Howl going again and was assured that he's still around. I even saw him in the window looking back at me when i went outside later. it was really nice :)

the nice thing is that the poem stands up completely on its own, unaffected by those later facts

thank you aimless! you all should post some that you're working on, if you want. i've revised all the ones i posted above, quite a bit in cases, but i think it's sometimes a nice thing to have a place to post work in progress. i'm working on a decent one right now, i think. i really enjoy using my mornings to write poetry. it fits in really well with the rest of my day and it makes me feel very productive. i've never really organized my writing before, but i think maybe part of that was that i assumed i would be best at doing it at night, which is when my creative outlets are usually sparking. but with writing, i think i am a morning/coffee person. anyway, just rambling, back to the notes :)

and no joke, just as i post, the same two guys and the moving truck just showed up! i think they're moving someone else in? looool. well, i'm sitting here at the same window, on the same couch. unbelievable

The silence of a new apartment
Waving to the one you left behind and closing the door
crying and knees and hands touching the floor
Do I want to be reminded
No, but I wouldn’t want to forget

one more, sorry. this is the one i've been working on the last few days

Mary Lou Retton Skips

Look at him, skipping rope
He skipped up and down the full length of his block’s sidewalk
without a single slip or halt, not a moment of hesitation
If anything he seems to be craving a mistake
Not at all like Mary Lou Retton, you remember
a nation held its breath, it was the 1984 Olympics
the sprint to the vault pushes those watching to the edges of their seats
she launches, flips, soars, and of course sticks the landing
She demanded perfection of herself in a life full of limits
Now she’s waiting to see what the judge’ would think
Then we saw the score and she heard it and said Yes!
and we all said it together, Ten!, watching on our analog televisions
Moments like that certainly capture my attention.
One hundred percent of it, the career-defining performance
The tip of a spear dipping ever so slightly into transcendence
That’s the boy who effortlessly skips, in the moment, in this moment,
at the top of his game, when life seems so easy
His kid sister walks behind him and watches and smiles
now she’s spinning and he’s romping down the block again

(sorry, that's supposed to go into this:)

I don’t want to be disenchanted, as I sometimes am
As we all are bound to be, lost at sea in the knowledge economy
I try to push back against that drift
because I enjoy being enchanted
In fact, it means pretty much everything to me
When it feels like magic I don’t know what I saw
I know what it felt like, I don’t know it all
I know every spell gets broken, I know where I belong
Every day can’t be like this and this might not happen again
That’s why I hold onto this feeling tightly for as long as I can
when I can find it, when I can hear my voice and change it

(and then figuring out if i want to include this or work it into something else i've been working on. it contains many baseball references, which i'm sure will be wonderful for some and horrible for others, haha):

When the bus dropped me off, as a kid, I had a ritual
I would take off my bag and begin the great spin
Wielding my backpack like an Decathlon competitor holds a hammer
Feeling the slack of the Jansport bag’s thin straps tightening
Gaining momentum
A trapper keeper slammed up against polyester lining
Then I’d whip my book bag off into the air as far as I could possibly throw it
Often with a grand arc, as a performance
As the bus pulled off with some kids laughing from the windows
the school day was done, the home was still home

i changed the name to Skip to my Lou, and the last part is now part of something else. also revised a lot of things, after reading it out loud a few times and hearing where things needed to be

Skip to my Lou

Look at that kid, skipping rope
He skipped up and down the full length of this block’s sidewalk
without a single misstep, no miscues, no reservations
If anything he seemed to be craving a mistake
One to break the winning streak so he could move on to something else

Not at all like Mary Lou Retton, you remember
a nation held its breath, it’s the 1984 Olympics
Her sprint to the vault pushes those watching to the edges of their seats
she launches, flips, soars, and of course sticks the landing
She demanded perfection of herself in a world of limits
Now it all comes down to what the judges should think
She walks past the NBC cameras and we see
the pressure of theater on the brink of the rink
no one blinks, I think, no one breathes
Then we saw the score and she heard it and said Yes!
and we all shouted the number together, Ten!
the announcer, the audience
everyone at home watching on our analog televisions

Moments like that certainly capture my attention.
One hundred percent of it, the career-defining performance
The tip of a spear dipping ever so slightly into transcendence
That’s the boy who skips, seemingly, without effort
in the moment, in this moment
at the top of his game, when life seems so easy
His kid sister walks behind him and watches and smiles
now she’s spinning and he’s romping down the block again
His streak is still going
He can’t retire while he’s still on top because
he hasn’t worked a job
I hope he doesn’t have to for as long as he can

I don’t want to be disenchanted, as I sometimes am
As we are all bound to be, lost at sea
in the knowledge economy or whatever it is that we call this
I try to push back against that kind of heavy drift
because I enjoy being enchanted
In fact, it means everything to me
When I feel magical I don’t know what I saw
I know what it felt like, I don’t know it all
I know every spell gets broken, I know where I don’t belong
I know most days aren’t like this
That’s why I hold onto this feeling so tightly for as long as I can
when I think about my voice and who is changing it

god, things can never be done.

last stanza now starts like this:

I don’t want to be disenchanted, as I sometimes am
As we’re all bound to be, emptied into the sea
in the knowledge economy or whatever it is that we call this
every droplet of water makes its own slow way to the ocean

That Dr Howl one is pure late Bukowski, not a bad thing, I love late Bukowski.

Is this thread really for "works in progress"? Cus your standard and workrate is intimidating, and personally my brain doesn't work between October and like March or summat, so when I had a Big Day opening mail/taking a walk/reading the bible I wrote this down in full awareness I will not be fixing the meter and such until the sun hits my corpse:

I love my auntie's handwriting
It is genuinely illegible, but
It swoops and it soars
Long curves, that (to me)
Illustrate: birds in flight
Messi shots at goal
and paths never took
On walks in the forest
IN THE HILLS

Turf Hill
Scare Hill
Boy's Hill
Burnieshag, Gaerlie
These are high points in my life
(geddit?
never mind...)

Bellhangie
Shoolbraid
Bogton (fucken BOGTON)
These are apparently individual "woods"
But really
(come bosie up and I'll tell you a secret):
It's actually all one big forest
(also my life is one big forest)

But my auntie's handwriting was NOT ALWAYS THIS WAY
I know
Because of my grandfather's bible
His wife put it in my hands when he died, and
Inside
I found a slip of paper
No more than like 3/4 inch square
With a verse from Luke
Bland, rote, capital letters
I would have never known who wrote it
If it wasn't signed
Hilary White

I just wanted to get for my own records before I forgot 1) my Auntie's baffling handwriting 2) The names I googled of where I was walking, I thought it was just "up the forestry", turns out I traversed multitudes 3) the tiny piece of paper I found in the Bible.

Oh also when I woke up today I found this written "chase yirsel son, finish up your compendium of left-handed bassists", I AM COMPILING NO SUCH COMPENDIUM so my only guess is that is meant for song lyrics or poetry

wearing a t-shirt says "emo-adjacent", that's also a scribbling I need to put in something

i really enjoyed reading that! "also my life is one big forest" is something i will remember, hahaha

as far as workrate goes, i'm in a weird temporary thing right now for the next year or two where i don't have a job and i spend my time doing whatever the fuck i want, all the time. it's incredibly self-indulgent and i've only getting to do it by obliterating every dollar i've ever put in any location

for example, i have a list of TO DOs that are getting more urgent - your payments are failing, your prescription is ending, your insurance hasn't started, etc. but instead i'm going to spend the rest of this morning drinking my coffee and working on my baseball poem, because fuck you only live once

also j h m i appreciate your use of capital letters and you sense of parenthetics (in this thread it is ok and good to make up words)

gonna do a quick test to see if this works, using the formatting...

Jonah was tossed overboard
    and Jesus walked upon a sea
            of expectations and Kurt Vonnegut’s reminding me
            so it goes, it’s overflowing, the need for emptiness
            to continue on as your body craves activity
            blood vessels carrying oxygen and nutrients

A Dead Armed Pitcher is Not Yet a Man

The path of a pitched baseball 
can be curv    or sl
           ing      urv
                       ing
          t
narrow or a  
          l
          l
cutt        n
    ing or k u                    arc's
              ckl              the      f
                 ing      bends         a
                 the wind               l
                                        l
slid
    ing or drop
               p
                ing 
    like a sick stomach
    having just reached the top
    of a rollercoaster ride that screams like a rocket until the bottom falls out of it and comes to the most sudden
                                                                                                                stop

Instead of throwing the ball like any of that
I throw it right down the middle
as hard as I can
My ass is handed to me in front of an audience

I grunt when I throw because they asked me to
because if I don’t they’ll ask why I didn’t
because they thought it would add a couple miles per hour
to my cartoonishly slow and extremely hittable deliveries
The other kid grunts back as he slaps a loud smack
The crowd roars because our team is away and they are safe at home
We’re 13 years old, I sucked
I got roughed up on the usual
but our team had no reliable bullpen
so they left me in to soak up the remaining innings
until the 10-run rule arrived, the rule of mercy

Pool

Movies on black and white tvs in barrooms
Fred Astaire smiles and a man plays a flute
I was watching him dance in a musical on mute

When a coquette with a curly q
sticks three quarters into a table which removes
a stop inside of it and prompts sixteen balls to click
together as they roll down a slope to her waiting hands

If I’ve seen it twenty times here, I’ll see it again
but I’ve never anything resembling this
she takes the 6 ball and puts it in one coat pocket
the 4 ball is flipped up in the air as the 9 ball is
touching the floor and now it seems like everyone’s staring at her

Cue ball in her left hand, 8 ball in her right
the green felt under the hanging billiard light
tinted with oranges and yellows and grime

She wound up like a pitcher in the bottom of the 9th
like an old-timey pitcher with the long-winded wind-up
We all saw where she was aiming and where this was going

He started running toward the door
when she finally launched it
where his body had been only a second before
the mirror exploded and the shattered glass scattered quick
as his shadow was seen down the corridor
She grabbed the coat he left behind and walked outside
with a flick of a cigarette

Later that night as the owner cleaned up
and grumbled about the cost of pool ball replacements
there was something that caught my eye
a clear view to the sky, ripped through the ceiling
the size of a cue ball, when did she make that happen
what else does she make happen
i’ll take a manhattan
she paid less than a dollar to make things plain
that’s a good deal in most centuries

You lads <3

Oh you're "on the spectrum"?
We're all on the "spectrum" that's what makes it a spectrum
But some of us use it as a synonym
For "I Act The Dick On The Internet"

Some of us get pennies threwed at our head
In those horrific high school corridors
But (bosie up, I'll give you a callback)
You can feed your family off the subsequent coins

No, we don't use that term
It's ugly, pointed, dismal and tawdry
Don't listen to me, a Doctor will tell you
But that doesn't appear on your 5 year plan

It's like Peel said
on first play of New Puritan
IF YOU THINK IT'S ABOUT YOU... IT'S ABOUT YOU
Let's just go back to bed

6 years into my 5 year plan, and I'm not where I said I'd be
So I live my life in Comic Sans, a forced attempt at levity

3 years on this sofa and still haven't got no sleep
But I live my life in Papyrus, cus I'm ~mystical and deep~

Had my eyes closed when you wrote that note, but I took a sneaky peek
Try to live my life in Futura, up to date and somewhat sleek

So next time you need to move your shit just give me a shout
I'm whatever font but Sans Serif, nae fucking about

Sorry, that one is pretty bad, closer to a party game than a poem, but this is a safe space, right?

I wrote a poem about my REDACTED but then it seemed too TW-ish to post so I replaced every use of the word REDACTED with REDACTED and now it seems creepily sexual? But in a humorous way so here yis go:

There is no honour in this town
But there are a lot of REDACTED
mostly plastic, yellow and black
how can I respect you with that toy in your hand?

My REDACTED was my father's REDACTED
Maybe his father's REDACTED before?
I dunno, we don't speak
The REDACTED is my father now

Stanley 99E, for whatever that's worth
One side half decayed, but then increasingly shiny
At the top end, rubbed by my fingers
As I grasp it in my pocket

The other side, only the tip is burnished
Where my thumb resides
The knife hides secretly as I listen to your tiresome anecdote
Waiting for the bigoted punchline

My brother visited my mother
Whipped out his REDACTED, to prove he's a big man
I just stood back, smirked
Knowing I had the superior REDACTED

And when I sleep tonight
I shall hold the cat against my chest
But the REDACTED will be in reach
Just in case

It resides on the other side of the bed
Vacant, except for the REDACTED
But the REDACTED's presence reassures me
Because I live in REDACTEDTOWN

Fuck I missed one

Better:

There is no honour in this town
But there are a lot of REDACTED
mostly plastic, yellow and black
how can I respect you with that toy in your hand?

My REDACTED was my father's REDACTED
Maybe his father's REDACTED before?
I dunno, we don't speak
The REDACTED is my father now

Stanley 99E, for whatever that's worth
One side half decayed, but then increasingly shiny
At the top end, rubbed by my fingers
As I grasp it in my pocket

The other side, only the tip is burnished
Where my thumb resides
The REDACTED hides secretly as I listen to your tiresome anecdote
Waiting for the bigoted punchline

My brother visited my mother
Whipped out his REDACTED, to prove he's a big man
I just stood back, smirked
Knowing I had the superior REDACTED
And when I sleep tonight
I shall hold the cat against my chest
But the REDACTED will be in reach
Just in case

It resides on the other side of the bed
Vacant, except for the REDACTED
But the REDACTED's presence reassures me
Because I live in REDACTEDTOWN

And that time somehow I deleted a verse break, but I'm not pasting it thirdwise

I’m out of milk, out of butter, and eggs
But I don’t think I’ll be headed to the supermarket today
I‘ve eaten and smoked, I’m partly dressed
I haven’t washed the dishes yet
I’ll be broke soon if I can’t sell something
and I just broke another french press
it fell with a cracking splash into the sink
as I closed a kitchen cabinet
My pointy elbows poked it off the ledge
I’ve been making a lot of clumsy accidents
and it all started after I started wearing glasses
now I have three plastic plungers and zero carafes

Not all messages are displayed: show all messages (371 of them)
Can someone tell Batman why not?!?
Reply to: pers-164487✧✧✧@craigsl✧✧✧.o✧✧
Date: 2006-05-25, 8:25AM EDT

can someone tell Batman why not?!?

Why he can't luv Batgurl? Why can't he luv Batgurl? What's wrong with luving Batgurl?

Thanks! kisst plus kisses for Batgurl

* this is in or around manhattan
* yes -- it's ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

164487171

There was a quiet family in a crooked land
and a series of bad hands which came to surround them
They lived within a kind of bewilderment
but thought they were outside of it
One day the heavy fog fell on their porch at dusk

They were watching the oranges and blues
and noting the range of lavender hues on view
but mostly they were listening
to cicada waves piling up on each other
picking up the patterns in their rhythms and
getting their whole story and then some
the decayed phrases phasing and fading in and out
papering over the seams of the loop
so there are no beginnings and
no endings

only an old dog’s tail which keeps wagging
every which way smelling like wet grass shavings
Come and get it while it’s still hot
A person that never really was
Their family lives on the corner of a block
You might find near the end of the book
as a form of epilogue
when the rising tension has been resolved
when the plot no longer thickens
They see their friends and warmly thank them
It’s as cold as the dickens out there, isn’t it
I guess some things never change, do they
These are the ones we come home to
the ones who have been missing us
That’s the story we like to tell ourselves
not how it really was

The quiet part has been said quite loudly
Can we roll the credits now?
Can we hear an old favorite in a new arrangement?
We know something’s wrong
but we don’t have the same explanation for it
but do we have to have the same explanation?
I remember when we did
Do we at least agree that the sun has gone down
Nobody says anything
We could all use a breather

When we step outside the shadows are detached
from the objects they used to represent
they fill the valleys with a sense of dread
and grow strongest where there is no light at all
I think they’re leading us to the bottom of a well
and I’m strangely compelled to go along with their plan
to put a lid on me
to be covered up and let it sink in
that I don’t have the faintest sense of what I’m dealing with
the window is closing
Purple and black and darker still until
the chill of my breath is the only thing that’s moving
Something small to take full account of

I’ll speak to you in the morning
the rustling wind under your door, whispering
that something inevitable is approaching

King’s Highway

I saw a dog at a bus stop
but she wasn’t waiting and neither was anyone else
she ran through the repair shop’s lot
and everyone was moving away or staring
She worked her way a bit down the block
And was soon back in the traffic
all the tires squeaked but no one honked
she weaved through the cars like
water through a sieve and
wound up west of the King’s Highway

I watched all of this in horror from the driver’s seat of my car
from the very center of the same King’s Highway
traffic rushing toward me from the left and away from the right
trapped from all sides in a left hand turn lane, waiting, having to wait,
how long could it stay green
she was running out in front of my wheels

some of the cars began to come to a stop
I looked for anyone who was running toward the dog
and found someone holding a leash
her hands were in the air, frozen like me it seemed

The dog was back out in the street
tire squeaks and still no honking
I put on my right-turn signal
and felt the seat belt sting against my neck
as my right hand gripped the passenger headrest

like thin rice noodles squeezing through a colander
I couldn’t believe I made it through
the moving automobile lines and off of it
to a taco bell parking spot
and immediately leapt out of my car like a fool
who still remembers to lock the door with a
remote key while scanning the periphery

I ran down the street to the person with the leash
Are you the owner
Yes, her name’s Nala
Which way did she go
I knew the answer before she answered
I saw it
Nala had turned off the King’s Highway down an alley

My black jacket made rapid plastic swishing noises
I was wearing gray mesh allbirds shoes
with gray pants and a gray shirt
my hair was lavender and yellow and orange and brown
I’m a complete mess, I know it
I took off, completely

She was looking at me, she kept looking back at me
while still barreling down the alley
I turned the corner and ran like the T-1000
that I used to be, for about a minute
probably closer to thirty seconds
it was a longer sprint then I can remember
since the pandemic
BC AD BCE CE
before and after
when meeting people was easy
Nala was on a leash and now we can’t find her
but I’m on her tracks, the only one with the sensor

I couldn’t catch my breath, I was panting
I went over the fence and through the back gate
there are no woods
the alley was grass, then dirt, then concrete
Nala stands at a pass and looks both ways
She instinctively manuevers t-bones at top speed

Somehow I’m at the main street,
the person holding the leash
says to me, Her name’s Nala
I’m Emma
She won’t come to me
She knows we’re putting her away
A postal worker overhears us
and is filled with disgust
We are one of the obstacles in her day
and I see the leashholder’s face is filled with bruised spots
Emma, she’s laughing and her eyes are empty
Nala’s running toward the trainyard
I keep chasing

the same landscape, again and again
the gas station, the restaurant, the intersection
the tire change chain, the telephone lines hanging over
the cars, everywhere cars, starting the cars
starting the story in a car, gradually exiting a car
everyone else is in a car, or otherwise waiting for something
This is a Thursday afternoon, this is a thousand places
this is a hero with a thousand faces
sitting in a car

I almost caught her
I was out of breath
she was down the block
about 200 feet off and I called
Nala! Nala, please!
The same words from before but with a different texture
now I was down and Nala was the young pup
more than ready to run for another hour
Nala, please, Nala
and she came to me with her leash dragging
on the ground behind her
I could see the whites of her eyes
in the prime of her prime of her prime
and no discipline
she came within 5 feet and I jumped the gun
with no discipline, I missed

I reached for the leash but it was beyond my capabilities
and I saw it disappear down another alley
there was a girl watching and she asked
is that your dog?
and i said it’s not my pooch but I’m helping
and felt so silly and I sprinted again, off

I never did find her
I was eight blocks away from my car
I walked back. to my car.
the car, the car.

I ordered 2 cheesy bean burritos
I was out of breath and
forgot to wear my mask
and the man at the window hated me
I think
I never found her, I ran out of breath

The street is cold the dawn is gray my heart says no but my head says stay

What a mess.
What a horrible mess.

The rest of it, shortly to follow.

Where to begin?

The ending started as a walk
with talk of the “immediate future”.

It started in the garden of Eden.
Adam dreamed of an Eve
and was relieved of some of his burdens.
He needed help and they felt no shame.

Dead end street.

The people in the steeple are dying to meet
the one-winged angel with mangy hair and sores on his feet
to be blinded, to be brought to their knees
once and then twice again.

Dead end street.
Dead end street.

People are dying here on Dead End Street.

Here is the rest:

It’s a mess and we’re out of time.
An archeologist digging through our wreck
might be disappointed with what they find.

They won’t find these words
long since windswept
the way we were
the way you are
cannot be captured
I wonder what I have left
and when to leave

I am starting to believe in some things
that didn’t make much sense before

I love your poems Ztbd

that's nice of you to say, thank you! still working on that one a bit, but mainly hoping the kinks don't sue me :-o

also the occurrence of my life being "a mess" is starting to spike, this is alarming! shit

King's Highway and Skip to my Lou are the highlights for me

king's highway is a true story! it happened just the other day. it was simultaneously the most intense exercise i've had in several years and a very, very sad experience. i couldn't really capture any of it. the saddest part was the end, when the dog darted down a sidepath and through someone's backyard yet again, and i knew i was giving up. she had done this maybe 5-7 times already, in the past 20 minutes of chasing, and each time i would run down the street, up the alleys and behind the backyards, and somehow i'd catch a glimpse of her running off somewhere else, always 100 feet away, and i'd kept going. but this time i was just out of breath, and also i had run into the owner one more time and she was a walking drug casualty, just laughing off her dog sprinting through heavy traffic and near accidents and some weirdass stranger running all through the neighborhood after her, asking "did any of you see an off leash dog?" and getting absolutely ZERO answers from anyone, from a dozen different people, just nothing

My uncles are overly mouthy
They have no idea just what is coming
My and my brother just sit and smirk
We both know fine well

My uncles aren't really my uncles
they're like my cousins, once removed? twice removed?
Don't get me wrong, they're really fine fellows
Just no brains in their heads

My brother takes me outside
Wants to smoke a CIGAR with me
Oh ok, but this makes me dizzy
I prefer heroin

Back inside, plaster on a smile
(I'd made a visit to my room, there was heroin)
Those same uncles still in my face
They don't know about the coming flood

And then two years pass
The flood came, I live on the hill
My uncles live in the valley
Don't know what came of them

Actually I need to replace that line "they don't know about the coming flood", I'd rather leave the flood unmentioned until it actually arrives, ken? Otherwise I'm happy with what I just wrote right now

"they don't know about the heroin" I suppose is the relevant substitute

I went back to my room
Stumbled once, hit my knee on the sink
Not a big deal, let's get back to it
Some conversation about football

^^insert that in there

haha, i like these uncles! these dumb butts talking about football, taking over your space

Reconciliation

We’re sitting in your garage, this evening
with the wide door open and it’s 46 degrees
two lawn chairs and two hot teas
peppermint of the Bigelow with no caffeine

It’s been 9 months since I talked to you
It’s been 10 and a half since he died and
It’s been 12 months since he went to the hospital

My neighbor is of the same belief
She feels sorry for me
she says the vaccine causes mass infertility

Last week I scraped the ice off her car, my neighbor’s car
It took about half an hour
and I felt like a good son
or a good someone who managed to do a good something
I thought I used to do a good something everyday
Now I write a poem to commemorate

We poured dog-friendly salt on the stairs to the street
She has a job caretaking for the elderly
and has your same first name and is of the same age
but in other ways she is nothing like you
She’s an artist with her own studio
She prays the rosary

Am I allowed near Avalon
if I don’t want to be
If I don’t know how to laugh
at a joke like that
When I’m still talking and no one’s listening
except myself, and barely at that

Yet I think I’m the only voice of reason
in this situation
The one who knew to stay inside
The one who knew it would get so bad
two weeks earlier than most people did
here comes the jeremiad

…
No, this time I don’t think I’ll share that
not this time, I still want you to laugh
and I don’t want you to get caught up
in the long tail unreasonable stuff
that the bulk of us seem to be stuck i

n

I heard a speedboat caught a wave and hopped
right over a dock
It started in the ocean
It landed in the bay
Someone was underneath the boat when it happened
I’ve never seen anything quite like that, they said
It flew right over my head
They were dry and he was soaking wet

I heard this same boat sped straight through the inlet
luckily the beachgoers took notice and fled
as the lifeguard took a video from the lookout perch
the back of an 18-wheeler opened up
and extended a ramp out into the water
the ship accepted the lift
twin mechanical amphibians
the boat slid up into the big rig
which took off with a pop and a shower of smoke

I heard a firetruck showed up in the aftermath
and as the crowd was dispersing some drunk man said
What are they gonna do, put out the ocean?!
and no one laughed or made eye contact
so this guy yelled it again, and his voice cracked -
Are they gonna put out the wa-ter?
the captive audience cringed and dispersed at greater distances
and a little kid kept asking Wait, what happened?

i am trying to be less longwinded

changed middle to

I heard this same boat sped straight through the inlet
luckily the beachgoers took notice and fled
as the lifeguard took a video from their lookout perch
the back of an 18-wheeler opened up
and extended a long metal ramp
the ship met the lift and skipped from water to land
mechanical amphibians
the boat slid up into the big rig
which then took off with a shower of gross smoke

one more once:

I heard this same boat sped straight through the inlet
luckily the beachgoers took notice and fled
as the lifeguard took a video from their lookout perch
the back of an 18-wheeler opened up
and extended a long metal ramp
the ship hit the lift and slid into the big rig
skipping from water onto land
mechanical amphibian
the truck took off and left a shower of gross smoke

Here's a short something I wrote back in 2008, working as a dishwasher in a restaurant in the middle of nowhere. I don't know if it's good or if it's embarrassing:

Over dishwater steam I witness
my gorgeous intentions crumbling.
Feta cheese over mixed greens.

Immersed in scalding water
my lobster-red hands reach for the stopper
and pull.

that brings up non-fond memories of washing dishes at long john silvers, back in the day
i was so slow, somehow, the slowest. the managers hated working with me because i'd still be washing the fucking dishes when they finished up the register

Aw, that sucks. The place I worked at was slow enough that I often had spare time to think up tiny poems I still remember 14 years later. I actually sorta liked that job. Free food and fairly low expectations.

me and my dog have a running gag about works in progress. they're called works in pawgress. :P

On tonight’s
unsolved mystery
An ordinary man
facing an uncertain destiny
pulled back the curtains
and dug beneath the leaves
a car pulled up into the driveway
he didn’t recognize the driver
he brought in some groceries
the blinds closed
the smoke alarm was out of batteries
the garbage can was overflowing
the dog kept whining
the key didn’t fit the lock
the basement door is open
the botched wood filling job
the siding is crumbling
the third floor balcony
the broken statue in the morning

soundtrack: ba-Dom ba-Dom-ba Dom bum, ba-Dom ba-Dom-ba Dom BING____

Z I hope you have a more permanent archive and a way to reach a wider audience, these are great and have a real "voice". Genuinely great writing for my money.

these are great

thank you both, that's very encouraging, i appreciate it!

i just keep them in the most permanent place of all: a Notes note called "uh oh it's poetry time again"

the most permanent tbd place on the internet:

http://zachtbd.xyz/poems.html

Unsolved Mystery

On tonight’s
unsolved mystery
An ordinary man
facing an uncertain destiny
pulled back the curtains
and dug beneath the leaves
a car pulled into the alley
an unrecognized driver
who brought in some groceries
the blinds closed
the smoke alarm was out of batteries
the garbage can was overflowing
the dog kept whining
the front key didn’t fit the lock
the basement door is wide open
the faucet and the drain are corroding
the botched job is still unfinished
the siding is crumbling
the third floor balcony
the broken statue in the morning

He parked up there near the river
near the fire that’s still burning
there is a road that goes over and around
someone is watching from the trees
observing an actor in an reenactment
describing the criminal act as witnessed
to a detective in a too-long tan overcoat
that brushes up against the wet grass
and the mud keeps them sliding
across the scene of the crime
this case has become rather slippery
the slate of evidence has been wiped clean

If you or anyone you know has any information
about the cases you've seen
please contact your local law enforcement officials
and tell them that you will be investigating
because you can’t count on them to follow-up competently
or promptly
or meticulously
or at all

Tell them that you’re filming a movie
a documentary about what may have been seen
one loud blue night by the cataracts
the spectacular cascades were hiding
the end of a span of life
a body with a water-logged chest
opposite of emptiness
could not catch a breath
when their life depended on it
and so they found the very end
and sunk into the bed

if you want to hear how i read it, complete with copyright infringement music, i put it here: http://zachtbd.xyz/poems/UnsolvedMystery.m4a

I’m not between jobs
I’m post-employment
Ask me to say that again
when I reach the end of my savings
when I’m digging under the bottom
to see how deep I can really go go
do you know what I mean?
Ask me to say that again, ‘I’m not between jobs’
and we’ll see if I really meant anything
when I was saying it
even as I was saying it

I don’t want you to worry about me
I’m as happy as I can be
I’m as happy as a clam
as happy as I’ve been since I was thirteen
right now, writing and worrying so much
burning down everything I touch
in some ways not much has changed

I thought I could be whatever I wanted to be
I should not have understood that literally
but I wanted so much to believe in that idea
I believed it myself for a nice long while

I’m speaking but you’re not listening
I don’t blame you
I tend to go on and on
I go on until I’ve had enough
and then — and there’s always an ‘and then’
when I know there should instead be silence
I keep on talking, it happened again
How many times can I forgive myself for this
and count on someone else to pay for my ticket

‘I’m set free, I’m set free, I’m set free
to find a new illusion’
I wish that were mine, but that’s Lou Reed

When I hear it I think of how many times
I have completely lost it only to find it again
Discovery, revision, and reinvention
Sounds like a decent life plan
but also suspiciously like a slogan
an ad campaign for Mercedes-Benz

“Discovery, revision, and reinvention
You’ll lose your mind in this car
You’ll never never want to step out of it
You won’t remember when it started
but you’ll know the pit is bottomless
two hundred horses pulling in the same direction
all to your benefit, the Mercedes Benz E350
Luxury, discovery, revision, and reinvention”
Do they still make ads like that

We should start on time
as in space, most of it is emptiness
we can live to the extent
that we can fill it up
and make a place in the vast expanse of nothing

there are countless endless long tails of the infinite
you can walk halfway to the end and then do it again
ad infinitum, that’s infinitesimal
that’s the quality of being indefinitely
reaching toward something that gets closer
in space but not in time
you’re always in motion but you never seem to arrive

I’m not between jobs
I’m post-employment
Ask me to say that again in a minute
when I reach the end of my checking account
and we’ll see how deep it really goes
when I’m digging beneath my bottom
God, I don’t want a digital wallet
Ask me to say that again, ‘I’m not between jobs’
and we’ll see how much I meant of what I was saying
of everything above, everything below
as much as one can, after reflection, say
as below, as above

I am not in love with thinking about money
it’s the kind of thing only a fucking prick
would spend their time with
I know it’s not right to speak of it
greasy wheeled spoonfuls with print of multiple licks
it’s the secret sauce of society
we all know that

I don’t want you to worry about me
I’m as happy as I can be
why, I’m as happy as a clam on a holiday!!
I’m as happy as I’ve been since I was thirteen
right now, writing and reading and trying not to worry so much
but also burning down everything I touch
in some ways not much has changed

I thought I could be whatever I wanted to be
I should not have understood that so literally
but I wanted so much to believe in that idea
I believed it myself for a nice long while

I’m speaking but you’re not listening
I don’t blame you
I tend to go on and on
for a real long while
I go on until I’ve had enough
and then — and there’s always an ‘and then’
but and then — and there’s always a but,
buts and thens, when I know there should instead be silence
and then when there finally is
I rev up the engine
and I keep on talking, it happened again
How many times can I forgive myself for this kind of thing
I know I’ll do it again

‘I’m set free
to find a new illusion’
I wish that were me, that was Lou Reed

When I hear it I think of how many times
I have completely lost myself in it only to find it again
Discovery, revision, and reinvention
Sounds like a decent life plan
but also suspiciously like a slogan
from an ad campaign for Mercedes-Benz

“Discovery, revision, and reinvention
You’ll lose your mind in this car
You’ll never ever want to step out of this car
in god we trust in our motor vehicle
You won’t remember when it started
but you’ll know the pit is bottomless
two hundred horses pulling in the same direction
all to your benefit, the Mercedes Benz
E350 Luxury
discovery, revision, and reinvention

Do they still make ads like that
They don’t make ads for the penniless
they do but that’s not the primary audience

I’m living for whoever is still believing
in the possibility of creating meaning
through living rather than waiting
for a truth which will never come to manifest
rather than waiting to die as a form of escapism
when I say GOP death cult I mean every bit of it
yes I’m on the left and I know you don’t care why
How long can I get by on
nothing but butter and bluster and gall?
Ask 45, it’s better not to think of it

If the clouds suddenly part
and the trumpets call and a
voice speaks down to us all
I will bow down in front of it
once and for all
there’s always a lower place you can fall
there is no bottom on a ball in space
there’s no end to the indefinite crawl

Met up in the Red Hall
I couldn't hear over the Three Degrees
So let's go for a walk
Have a smoke, have a talk

He gave me the lowdown
Sotto voce: "Hey, with friends like these..."
Then he just trailed off
Turned away, faked a cough

He said it would be be fine
No one would get hurt, it would be a breeze
I couldn't parse his wink
So I just asked for time to think

I should have known better
Bad things always tend to come in threes
The Boom-Truth and The Knife
Have never got me far in life

I told him I loved him
As an afterthought, in parentheses
Tacked it on to the end
Scanned it over, then clicked "Send"

I'm trying to deliberately leave out the important shit recently, like to the extent of deleting verses. All ominous threat-of-flood, no details of flood. Doughnut-shaped poems, all outside no middle.

Also taking on board what KM said about reading them aloud, so actually they maybe lose something without specific intonation and phrasing

oooh, i like that one quite a bit JHM, that's some good stuff!

whoa

sorry to post the same exact lines again, but i just came upon an interesting feature in sublime text, which i usually only use for programming stuff, back when i tried to do that. anyway, i wanted to see what the poem above, the one that starts with "we should start on time", would look like as a kind of long paragraph, kind of like how i usually post actually, oops. but anyway - that did not work, but instead i came upon sublime text's ability to randomize the lines of a selection, which includes line breaks, so that when it puts it back together it creates new stanzas and pairings. some of these new randomized sections are much better than what i was very much trying to do, ha! the matrix is real. jk

anyway, here's the sublime text-edit:

------

it’s better for my mental health, for all of us
that we can fill it up
How long can I get by on
Sounds like a decent life plan
I thought I could be whatever I wanted to be
and we’ll see how deep it really goes

‘I’m set free
flub infinity

you can walk halfway to the end and then do it again
right now, writing and reading and trying not to worry so much
when I’m digging beneath the bottom
through living rather than waiting
it’s the kind of thing only a fucking prick
Ask me to say that again, ‘I’m not between jobs’
voice speaks down to us all
yes I’m on the left and I know you don’t care why
on nothing but butter and bluster and gall?
I’m not between jobs

when I say GOP death cult I mean every bit of it
when I reach the end of my checking account
it’s the secret sauce of society
“Discovery, revision, and reinvention
but I wanted so much to believe in that idea
to find a new illusion’
but you’ll know the pit is bottomless
we can live to the extent
as w ith space, most of it is emptiness
I’m speaking but you’re not listening
that’s the quality of being indefinitely
I’m as happy as I’ve been since I was thirteen
Ask me to say that again in a minute
and I keep on talking, it happened again
I don’t want you to worry about me
I wish that were me, that was Lou Reed
I don’t know who I am
and the trumpets call and a
as below, as above
but and then — and there’s always a but,
in some ways not much has changed
for a truth which will never come to manifest
I don’t blame you
from an ad campaign for Mercedes-Benz

In God we trust in our motor vehicle
I have completely lost myself in it only to find it again
would spend their time with
discovery, revision, and reinvention
there’s always a lower place you can fa ll
and then when there finally is
I’m as happy as I can be
I know I’ll do it again

you’re always in motion but you never seem to arrive
and then — and there’s always an ‘and then’ with me

I am not in love with thinking about money
all to your benefit, the Mercedes Benz
and make a place in the vast expanse of nothing
for a real long while
I tend to go on and on
well, they do but that’s not the primary audience
You’ll never ever wanna step out of this car
I rev up my engine

as much as one can, after reflection, say
of everything above, everything below
When I hear it I think of how many times
we all know that
why, I’m as happy as a clam on a holiday!!
once and for all

(the same conclusions)
and we’ll see how much I meant of what I was saying
Do they still make ads like that

God, I don’t want a digital wallet

but also suspiciously like a slogan
in the possibility of creating meaning

Ask 45, it’s better not to think of it
They don’t make ads for the penniless

I go on until I’ve had enough
I’m not sure about that
there are countless endless long tails of the infinite
in space but not in time
but also burning down everything I touch
I will bow down in front of it
How many times can I forgive myself for this kind of reasoning
I’m post-employment
You’ll lose your mind in this car
I should not have understood that so literally
We should start on time
I’m living for whoever is still believing
there’s no end to the indefinite crawl
If the clouds suddenly part
I believed it myself for a nice long while
rather than waiting to die as a form of escapism
ad infinitum, that’s infinitesimal
You won’t remember how to start or end it
reaching toward something that gets closer

greasy wheeled spoonfuls with the mayor’s fingerprints
I know it’s not right to speak of it
buts and thens, when I know there should instead be some silence
E350 Luxury
two hundred horses pulling you in the same direction
Discovery, revision, and reinvention

i realize now what i need to do

My third(?) time on the stage
Let's be honest, prolly my last
a single clap rang out
everyone looked at their feet

I was taken aside beforehand
Told to behave, it kind of fucked me off
So I deliberately touched EVERYTHING
The uncles smirked, my mother didn't

Yeah, the drumkit's in my mother's attic
So there will be no rimshots tonight
My brother gave me a trombone
So I can wompwomp to my hearts delight

I'll just nod cus it's less painful than smiling
But I'll tell you one thing for free:
Next person says I "wash up nice"
Is getting stabbed in the face

On rereading I'd maybe switch the word "wash" to "scrub", it's less based in truth but sounds better

I can still see the smug expression
on your face
I'll wipe it off whatever it takes
The end of the world suits me fine
You'll get your comeuppance
and I'll get mine

Livestock, cheer up
Imagine the view from where I'm sat
Timothy's layering down one level
Curtis still acting smug as fuck

Nardise, no lies
Oh hey Young Laura, how ye keeeping?
Let's take a walk past that one boy's house
Just whistle and look away

don't swear, just, please
You cannae make up times like these
The kids did a runner from the taxi driver
And the park bench is still on fire

The Seven Sisters are multiplying
Ceylon's called Sri Lanka now
James Taylor's got some pretty broad shoulders
But they still chap on my door

Btw in that previous thing change "my mother didn't" to "my mother sighed"

Calmate ragazzo, don't get upset
That's just how we do it in Taranto
A slap to the head for your new haircut
A kiss from the priest for your onomastico

Come closer child, squat by my feet
My brother brung me this old banjo
Can't restring it, I'm enslaved by another man
If you're not feeling it please just go

He wears that Jazzmaster like a fashion accessory
I think he's hit it maybe once or twice
He might seem cool, but I've gazed into his eyes
I think he's got a two or vice

Middle-aged dads in button-dowm shirts
A bassist in a trucker hat
Not too impressed, but I'll fake for your benefit
"They're having fun, I'll give them that..."

Hush your tone and we might get a lock-in
If you'll just pay for one more round
Shout "THAT'S MY GRANDMA!" when that kid starts fiddling
Laura chuckles, no one else makes a sound

Franklin said "calm yer hands", he's probably right
I'm twitching all over the shop
Take the deep breaths like my mother telt me
But this arsehole's beeen burnt too many times before
Wise up kid, hold the yelp back
Just point two fingers and grin
Maybe pretend you're an adult
Flip the fag pack then exit

Benjamin says this autoharp has a "storied history"
Maybe Yorkston's but I forget if that's true
My father will visit if we let on where our house is
I mumbled "yes" then went back to my bed
I'm told to wave if he drives past the front door
I doubt it'll happen but come on, safety first
The rest of the crew are hiding out in the backyard
I'm doing pushups on the front lawn For. My. Sins.

I spent some time with a girl once
Didn't really know her, a friend of a friend
Repeatedly asked me to repeat what I yammered
She could never parse the last part

Turns out it was a misunderstanding
(in multiple senses of the word)
All my sentences ended in -ken
...what's that aboutken?

She took it as a final syllable
Rather than the nervous tic it was
", ken?" as punctuation at the end of the sentence
Because I'm scared by the shape of the room

I never do that sat at home with my lover
Or when I'm at my mother/uncle's house
But if you meet me in a pub, or some sketchy hangout
Please appropriately adjust your comprehension

So these days I'm trying to do better
Think all my words out before I speak
Pregnant pauses, do they make me seem deeper?
Or do they make me seem slow?

Used to go to Kenfest (this predates Succession)
That's fine, it's not the end of the word/world
Just don't ask me for my Destroyer ranking
Because that will always end with Ken

(there was a part about bonfires in there but I took it out which I'm rueful cus I like bonfires)

Also the death of Nicky Tesco somehow made me write like 8 paragraphs about my brother and his favourite song and our our teenage band and his sociopath partner who doesn't let him talk to me and how I have no way to contact him now and I've tried for hours now to turn it into verse but it ain't realistically happening and I shall spare youse the efforts but can I just say I'm drunk as fuck and I miss my little brother and pogoing in our shared bedroom til the record skipped and if you see him tell him I've still got that Sound Of The Suburbs 7", then make that "call me" hand gesture then go back to your crowd

I admit, I was happy
to feel the sharp pain
in my back come back
to feel freshly incapacitated
and unable to attend the class

The only required supply was Gesso
but I didn’t want to go
so I stayed home

I wrote an email to the instructor
explaining how I had been moving
music equipment from one floor to another
pushing heavy carts to and from the freight elevator
in an old building in the Lemp District

Then I spent that night painting
over a previous painting
rehabilitating it
bringing it back from the brink
documenting Lazarus with a photo
before putting him back in his cave

I woke up covered in sweat
She wrote back in all caps
Do Not Draw on the Canvas With Pencil
this class costs $200 and I missed $40 of it
I am level 34 in Elden Ring

I don’t want to find a new home
I don’t want to listen to the Gymnopédies again
I don’t want the door to close
I don’t want to sit on the stairs, listening

My dog wet my bed
I love her all the more for it

I no longer want to be outstanding
I only want to be happy
and when I fall out of it
as one must
to be able to come back
like a home, a happy home
that stays
which is on an old map

I want to nail the Chopin on my deathbed
in front of a captive audience
gathered to hear some final jokes
but I play a Nocturne instead
perfectly, the trill hits the optimum
my uncle says “I didn’t know he could play”
and I look back and say “and you didn’t know him”
and die, just like that
and my uncle gives everything to charity
every last cent

revised

I don’t want to find a new home
I don’t want to listen to the Gymnopédies again
I don’t want the door to close
I don’t want to sit on the stairs, listening

My dog wet my bed
I love her all the more for it

I don’t want to be outstanding
I just want to be happy
and when I exit
as one must
to be able to come back to the happiness
like a home, an old home
which stays in one place
in a telephone book
on an old map

I want to nail the Chopin on my deathbed
in front of a captive audience
gathered to hear some final jokes
but I play a Nocturne instead
I want to nail the trills, especially
my uncle says “I didn’t know he could play”
and I look back and say “and you didn’t know him”
and die, just like that
and my uncle gives everything to charity
every last cent
and then maybe he dies too

still ironing the kinks out of this one

-
How long can this last,
our pointless nightlong slog through
this soupy morass?

The soles of our shoes
are thickly coated with mud
and for what, a ruse?

Picking at this crud
with sticks that keep snapping off.
This path is a dud.

Now I have a cough
on top of holes in my gloves
I drink from the trough

Glasses all fogged up.
What if we went home, sweet home?
But who can we trust?

My mouth starts to foam
at the thought of how to leave.
Can I be alone?

I think I believe
there is comfort in structure.
I need some routine.

But I don’t know much.
Merely waking up some days
can take some gumption.

If a voice would say
Right Now, Immediately
Full Retreat, Post Haste

Could I hide my glee?
Should I be stifling my joy
while full on sprinting?

When I was a boy
I would laugh until it hurt.
Patched up corduroy.

An iron-on shirt
with characters from Star Wars.
Nails covered in dirt.

Now my throat is hoarse
From yapping about what ought
to be, in due course

Our expected lot,
Rather than boggy water
and depressing thoughts.

New cannon fodder
hanging on to ropes dangling
from helicopters.

Put a fork in me
How long would I sing a song
which has no ending?

I guessed for too long
at questions with no answers
but I was not wrong.

missiles fall on distant kiev
this counts as merely minor peeve
we knows what sides our breads is buttered
let no apologies be uttered
when all is said and all is done
a terrys lots a happy one
toe rag to riches, doughty yeoman
to cuntish twentieth century roman

― Ár an broc a mhic (darraghmac), Thursday, 3 March 2022 16:47 (five hours ago) bookmarkflaglink

what's sad is that this all started in an effort to be more concise. i get bored at some of my long poems while reading them, sometimes, so i'm sure it's much worse for everyone else. so someone suggested haiku but of course i needed more than 3 lines. still, 51 lines is shorter by my standards, and the average length of each line is only 5.667 syllables so it's faster than normal

here is the revised version, which is now called About Quitting

How long can this last,
our pointless nightlong slog through
this soupy morass?

The soles of our shoes
are thickly coated with mud
and for what, a ruse?

Picking at this crud
with sticks that keep snapping off.
This path is a dud.

Now I have a cough
on top of holes in the gloves
I found in the trough

Glasses all fogged up.
What if we went home, sweet home?
But who can we trust?

My mouth starts to foam
at the thought of how to leave.
Can I be alone?

I think I believe
there is comfort in structure.
I need some routine.

But I don’t know much.
Merely waking up some days
can take some gumption.

If a voice would say
Right Now, Immediately
Full Retreat, Post Haste

Could I hide my glee?
Should I be stifling my joy
while full on sprinting?

When I was a boy
I would laugh until it hurt.
Patched up corduroy.

An iron-on shirt
with characters from Star Wars.
Nails covered in dirt.

Now my throat is hoarse
From yapping about what ought
to be, in due course

Our expected lot,
Rather than the swamp water
and negative thoughts.

New cannon fodder
hanging on to ropes dangling
from helicopters.

Put a fork in me
How long would I sing a song
which has no ending?

I guessed for too long
at questions with no answers
but was I all wrong?

-
i think it sounds nice read aloud, because of the interweaving rhyme scheme and the concise, consistent number of syllables from the haiku setup. i recognize that without constraints, i just go on and on and on, here and in what i work on, whether i'm painting and accumulating or recording a million tracks or talking endlessly. it's good for me, at least occasionally, to get a STOP signal, or at least a small box to put things in

here is a spoken version

I am in favour
Just now, let's say my "auntie"
lives in my Maw's house

Tends to leave me notes
I come in from pub some nights
Find stuff on table

"your cat has puked up"
Mostly shit like that or such
I'm not too impressed

She wrote in haiku, but I bosed up to her
Told her to work on her meter
she scoffed at me, said just wait on ma mer
but I knew I could beat her

She lorded over me like every night
I said "try working in sonnets"
"aye, nae chance!", but it sparked a light
And I took something from it

Auntie Dorothy, aiutandeme
ma cosé pensa Voi?
Andare a bagno, scrivo per te
Che cosa trovate poi?

Underrate me? Fuck you Dot
Sonnets in Italian? Fuck Yeah, the lot

(pretty rough Italian, but genuinely wrote while she was in toilet and maybe pretend it's Tarantino which it's not but I'm banking on no one knowing one way or the other)

Nothing but apologies for previous. Still drunk but eh

Every time the song plays
I grip my knuckles white
Not a big deal, I recall the breathing exercises
so we exit the situation okay

But then maybe My Mother entrances
(when my knuckles still white)
"who's this boy?", I turn red-eyed
make some semblence of a shrug

"oh the guy jumped off the bridge?"
Just focus on the screen
"oh yeah, I heard some blather nonsense..."
CONCENTRATE ON THE SCREEN!

Recall them exercises? Now's a good time to practise
(we're not stabbing no eyes today)
That big news you wanted to share? Cough
Maybe save it til next week

My mother smirks, I make coffee
Liverpool don't play til dmorrae..

god, My Mother

How long does it take for someone to crack?
How soon before they're in the nutty shack?
How long for someone to lose their marbles?
For their cards to fall on the table?

How much pressure can you take?
How many straws before you break?
How much stress can you handle?
Before you're blown out like a candle?

It’s that time of year
for the first time
since it happened

I’ll remember what I can on his birthday, later this month
He would have been sixty-seven
Four days later I’ll remember his death
Undefeated
Always on the way
The arrival seen coming but sudden all the same
The before and the after
What gets shaken out of all of us

When death comes knocking you don’t hear it
No need to worry, someone will answer the door
or else it well let itself in

By the time you smell death it’s already down the throat
The first scent is a signpost at the end which reads

All Roads Meet Here
Final Merge
Turn Off Car
Remove Keys From Ignition
Wait

I would like to be asked
to go outside
to flat out lie
down on the sidewalk
to see and be seen
by the others
up and down the street
who were asked to do the same as me
to step out of our housing units
silently
the neighborhood strangers
who lost everything
the one in thirty-three who have a close relative who died
a lot of us did not say goodbye
I would lay my forehead on the cement
until I am serene
and wait for others to join me

There is no national day of remembrance
because it’s still happening
because a lot of people are invested in it being overblown
because we had to get used to it

One can imagine opening the door to the inevitable
with a line long memorized
calmly methodical
looking it straight in the eye and saying
Why you’re right on time

Or, slamming and bolting the door
that should be enough, right
though maybe stacking a couch against it can only help
Any time at all which can be bought is worth it
only a second more is to die for

Or, ripping off the bandages
marching straight through hell without a guide
shaking the foundation
unholy primal screaming
we’re all innocent
or none of us are
it doesn’t make a difference

The weapons of mass nonsense are proliferating
Strangers explain comorbidities to me
explain vaccines are destroying my fertility
explain alternative treatments
explain the government did not want me to see the data
explain comorbidities reacting with the vaccines
and the only possible treatments were part of an elitist scheme
involving the world bank and UN and CDC and Bill Gates
and the Great Reset and Planet X
the entire Biopharmaceutical industry
I can’t sleep, I can’t sleep
it’s all been written, don’t you see, we see it
that they actually want this to keep this so-called pandemic going

My blood runs cold
It would be better to go numb instead
Much easier to nod and play along to their song
Yes, ivermectin, very interesting
this and that study, incredible

(Keeping the rebuttals unstated
maybe even not thought of at all
ideally)

I spent some time with The Atlantic article
“Why America Became Numb to COVID Deaths”
and it made me think about why I became numb to Americans

There are endless forms of escapism
I do it too
We all have to do it

Still, If you can’t say anything nice
well, you’re fucked, I guess
Right? In this instance
You’re supposed to grin and bear it
pretend like they make sense

You’re supposed to say it is what it is but
I refuse to accept that it is what it is
because everything changes and that’s as it should be
things that are about to be, approaching
that’s what is happening, along with what already is

The bathroom within a bathroom is easy to find
You walk into the outer bathroom, then say
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
Then you’ll know the way

Man rules the day with his calls and computer,
Deliberate, restless, engorged with the fluid of importance,
He stands astride his home office as a Colossus.

His only match, the night’s master,
The swift and furry specter that undoes his hard work
Swiping at air pods, glasses, the spoils of civilization itself.

When the sun rises, man must rebuild
The broken city leveled by his rival.
O the Sisyphean joys of owning a cat!

I was gunna write something HATEFUL
Cus I woke up thinking of that boy again
But everytime I wash my body
I forget everything

Or just cook something, that works too
Hoi, maybe pop some corn!
Aye hush, I'm banned from using hot oil
But frankly the grownups can fuck each other

My shoulders hurt from hunching
My knuckles hurt from clenching
My feet have lost all feeling from the stupid way I'm crouching
My back hurts from I donno idolatry I guess

Last week I thunk you up a masterpiece
I had it down to punctuation in my head förfan
Then I took a shower
And it all whirled down the drain

"I'd rather write a symphony"
You used to play that song constalike
I hated it then, cus offentill I need to sleep
But I hate it still, from memory

Just because

that's my favorite of yours that i've read, JHM

and i love treesh entering the fold!

You gave me dispensation to invent words! I membered midways.

Sometimes this crowd sounds like a choir of angels
Sometimes everything tumbles on the the floor and bursts open
Sometimes I just need to blow my nose
My chest hurts

I also love treeship, jennalike

Let's play DEVOLUTION Baby!
I found a comfy rut right here
Oh I'm sorry, the birds are dying?
B-b-but there's a defibrillator

2.6 miles from pub, 0.1 from my sofa
(but yeah, that's all uphill)
Think about it, it's perfectly placed
Imma outlive erry one of youse fools

Sometimes this crowd sounds like a choir of angels
Sometimes everything tumbles on the the floor and bursts open
Sometimes I just need to cough up some blood
Sometimes I just need a duvet to hug

My knees hurt from kneeling
My teeth hurt from sugar, and clenching
Because of YOU
(yeah, THEM, but also YOU)

Cut my hair for you
Going broke buying solid color shirts
A mason jar for pencil shavings

my last one was way the fuck too long, here is a one minute version that's slightly edited

All Roads Meet Here
Final Merge
Turn Off Car
Remove Keys From Ignition
Wait

I would like to be asked
to go outside
to flat out lie
down on the sidewalk
to see and be seen
by the others
up and down the street
the neighborhood strangers
who were asked to do the same as me
to step out of our housing units
silently
the neighborhood strangers
the one in thirty-three who lost everything
many of us did not get to say goodbye
but I did, I had my ten minutes, alone
I would lay my forehead on the cement
until I am serene
and wait for others to join me
that is how I want the remember
just me and the others
all of us together

Jennalike Baby, calm yer fucken heels
You've maybe smoked yersel to death
"Young George, Son Of George", wind yer neck in
KovaKovaKovacic, take a deep breath

I'll smirk, fingerguns, I know the teenagers rate me
While the fireworks whizz past my head
Throw your fingers up, quote that line from what film?
I will elegise you when you're dead

Siccemmup Curtboy, I know yer fucken holding
We been this road too many times before
You got your spot, the rest of the room is mine
The other business we'll just whistignore

Boom did ye feel that? the whole room rumbled
I'll ride this rug like A Lad In Hell
If I give you this French chalk just promise me
You'll draw a line around where I fell

poems are hard to justify
but easier to understand than the stock market

if i had the discipline to write a petrarchan sonnet
i would

There Is Not Here

Here is another letter
Letter to the editor

Editor of the opinion pages
pages her boss to discuss the document
document the date it was received
Received too late to answer

Answer he couldn’t accept
Accept nothing but regrets
Regrets we all share, except
Except perhaps the one there in the back

Back in the time of beepers
beepers could arrange a talk with powerful men
Men whose family owned the town newspaper
Newspaper revenue would be declining
Declining steadily ever since, for years
Years and years when the advertisers left
left for the internet
internet perpetually under construction

Construction without interruption
interruption via a botched intervention
intervention rejected and buried
buried twelve feet deep
deep in the woods off the mind’s highway

Highway lines twisting and vanishing
Vanishing off of the pavement
Pavement lines becoming disorienting
disorienting and dissipating
Dissipating until the heart is still
Still, we keep going until
Until we know that we’re there
There is not here

Don't bosie up to me, ye fucken child
There's one key difference tween the two of us
You've drunk "14 beers!", hmmm is that number just random?
I don't drink, I'm just waiting on the bus

Yeah I know fine well we're both "medded up"
Is your cat also waiting outside?
I lied to the doctor, I lied to you just now
My cat isn't outside, my cat died

You want to hang with the grownups?
Well, I've got some advice for you
Is that Diazepam? Just hoard it
At least for a day or two

Yeah cos we can't afford to drink every day
And the scrip isn't all that strong
Drink all weekend, then double meds from monday
If the voddy even lasts that long

Oh, your best mate's got Ritalin?
Well that's of no interest to me
Get up to the high school, sell it to children
Come back here, fan the bills out, then we'll see...

Not happy, my constant deletions to deliberately remove context harmed this one, I wanted to make clear the creeping nazification of the youth (like when they've drunk exactly 14 beers, or bet 88 on the duck race on gala day), and also the lying to the doctor is that you aren't currently drinking, in order to acquire benzos. I don't feel either of those things come across in this version, I'll rewrite it (spoiler: I won't). Also I just realised my stream of conciousness switched from me as an elder being harassed by youth to me as a youth being intimidated by elders and that doesn't work at all. SHUT IT DOWN

Find the cord in the toilet
Find the correct glass when you stumble back to the room
Follow my finger slowly with your eyes
Follow the street back to your mammy's house
It's a pretty baller move if you ask me
Pass out on the kerb, roll down the street
You've played crazy golf, it works exactly the same, work the angles
You'll wake up in the gutter pretty close to where you want to be

Crazy Golf? Don't get me started on that
8 under par, let's call it a Phoenix
Found 10 kroner on the walk over the dunes
Already dropped it by the ice cream shack
At 8 years old that felt like a mass execution
The hateful look from your father made you sink into the sand
The look from the other kids somehow felt even worse
I'm sorry, no ice cream today

So let's never play golf again
Also you're dreaming if you think I'm getting back in those little cars
First time it died on me, everyone laughed
Second time my brother... well let's not talk of that
But I always loved being inside the big man
I had the skill for it, slipped between levels
No one ever found me until I turned up for the barbecue
Walked away from that, found a quiet place, and just prayed

Yeah seriously, I used to pray
Til my knuckles and knees felt the same numbness as each other
My whole body achieved a sense of unity
Then I'd walk back to the fire

Lookee Lady, you know I love you
But consider for a mintytoo
If this was 500 years ago
You'd be BURNT AS A WITCH!

Yeah calm down, these are your best qualities
You're outspoken, as is your bahgiven right
I'm just saying, in ye olden times
You'd be BURNT AS A WITCH!

Fucksake, stop hitting my head
My heart will bust if you keep up with that gaze
Just imagine 1542 if I didn't speak up for you
Yeah you died in a fire

Track and Field, Baby! Make me FEEL!
Living is easy when your window points East
"The Secret Life Of Plants" on repeat til the sun melts the vinyl
We can play any boardgame with an exclamation in the title

Today's drug is Promethazine, No Thank You Lady
That shit will just slow me down
I'll stick with lager, and a punch to the chest
From (genuinely) my oldest friend

Portraits of LOSERS, portraits of my enemies
A dart through that postcard of Churchill
A blade for the neighbours, the scribes and the Pharisees
A jog round the Den, then go home and pass out

You’re not here
You’re not in your urn
You’re not up there
or down there, either

You know what I mean by that

You’re gone

Emo Kid, count to three, is this where you want to be?
Someone somewhere's thinking of your legacy
Eat the bunny ears and smile cus that's all you'll get tonight
Novel handytowels, but I still gave you a fright

Shave your face off in the mirror, Twist And Shout then count to ten
Chips are falling, we've just got to work out when
The walls are moving in, peel your scabs then spin for days
Your family is judging you in many different ways

Drop your pocks, clear them out, just flip out what you're able
We'll close our eyes and then count what's on the table
If you caught me looking you too must have had a peek
Fuck you I'm short, you still owe me from last week

Levarage the beverage, remind him what means most
His daughter lives on my sofa, makes both of us toast
Dunking foreheads but I'm the one who buys the bread
Except at Easter when it's bunny ears instead

Nah I'm not fucking that girl on the sofa
She's far too young, and sometimes the wrong gender
But every morning she brings black coffee to my bed
we touch foreheads, I close my eyes, we kiss on the cheek
And for those few seconds I am calm

I pass her father in the streeet
He's only a few years older than me
We nod at each other, and continue our business
We've never discussed the elephant in the room
That is, that his daughter lives on my sofa

Every so often I have visitors
Old schoolfriends, fuckbuddies, or family members
They don't understand why this girl's on my sofa
And I can't really explain
At least not in a way they'd grasp

I can't even remember how it started
I think she just needed somewhere to stay
But the single thing I know
I LOVE HER
And at this point I don't think I could live without her

Fuck what you heard, I wasn't present for the drainpipe bisnes
I was at my mother's for tea
I could say who the perpetrators were, but I ain't no snitch
It's established by now tho, all three

I also wasn't present when the pub blew up
But everyone now accepts that was an accident
It made the news, fucksake, there's thrash songs about it
"I left the gas on..." is the best final line ever

The second time the village has been on the news
And at least for once they got the name right
Oh wait, no, third, there there was that time we had a "gun siege"
Plus the obvious impalation

While we're here, Fuck Donald Trump too
He vocally hated our windmills
But those paid for two defibrillators
With enough change for a statue of James Taylor

Widdly widdly woo, kerchunk "I left the gas on..."

Duvet system, damn, I fucken missed them
Too many parents just fucken burn my fucken eyes
Scour up to Dundee, I forgot to fucken listen
Too many knifewounds and far too many lies

Breathe the signifiers, at some point it just got funny
"monna cook for us". it's all a fucken joke
Driedel substitutes, some day it will get better
Flip a coin, spare the ox and spare the yoke

1743, monna guess the significance?
No point trying, I just made that out of cloth
Drovers count for summat, hoi moderate your language
Count the sins, you're at least at two or Sloth

Several diversify, "Zoomers" are a thing now
Multiple weapons but they're all cased in Yon Room
Your offspring lactify, mines if it counts multiply
My fake children all maybe all just tick tick boom

Fillerup!

Pull up the hood and take a look
if you would

Top off the fluids
Check the air on my spare
Rotate the tires
Wipe the windows
Drain the oil
I’ll take the synthetic

Put a mileage reminder on the windshield
if you would

Power-Vac the muddy floor
Pour fresh water into the gallon jugs and
Perfectly park the car
Four inches from the curb

Insert the chip and leave a tip
Enter the telephone number
Member benefits increment
We’ll do it again in three thousand miles

On the way home I forgot to turn the music on
Sitting and moving in silence
Pure driving excitement
Taking the scenic route out of habit

I used to lean into the curves and accelerate
I drove way too fast on country roads
But I knew them like the back of my hand

But I was also scaring my friends
I knew that and kept doing it
That’s why they got mad
I deserved worse than that

I used to flip the headlights off
at night
For a second
Sometimes a few
Sometimes laughing as I did it
I thought I was making a point about chance
or how frivolous our existence is

What a mess I made
When people were trying to be my friend
And sometimes
They would laugh, too
I think they were trying to understand where I was coming from
even after surviving a
Night drive in total darkness

True blue, true blue
I know where we’re going to
No one says my voice is soothing
but you say you do

Now I drive the speed limit
I get home and make a meal that I’ve planned
I go to bed at the normal time

I am not expecting forgiveness
I am hoping for much more than emptiness
I want to regain faith in the public interest
I’d like to be a fountain
Replenishing and not subtracting
A wellspring to the creek
The one you want to see when things get bleak

Love that second half

In fact after pacing the living room early morn, smoking and drinking, I realised what song it was niggling me to play, it was Blackness by Arab Strap. Summat about speeding deadeyed through country roads. So I listened to that song and it was great and I can go back to bed now thank you

firstup flip a coin, wave your hands it's gone for good
glaze in your eyes gives away your route to food
secondov multililly and just take a mint to breathe
they know finewell other card is up your sleeve
thirdface nonexistent, fingerguns and that's your lot
take deep breathe and whoosh reflect on all forgot
jankiyell the last time, this one for all the marbs
we'll feed yer maw if they agree to stick to carbs

rousen up the deadbones pick the cat up down yon lane
take two interventions to decide whose drum to blame
lather up pianner and spin it twice for luck
start lines with a zed if it gets you out the muck
seventeen is evergreen, no one walks out clean
no respect for patter but they all loved the lean
burn the dismal sentinels, what's yer backyard for?
bumpbumpbomp y'rellers when you pick me off the floor

clever kids and flauty fuds are running the estate
scurvy son bought flashybangs but turned up far too late
jennyfash is judging me, i think i look no bad
line it up on front lawn, the best we ever had?
the rescue chooks admittedly are balder than expected
but layman overbooks are better when reflected
protect the squinty mammies from all selfmade young teams
come spend a day here and you'll work out what that means

actually, switch "overbooks" for "copybooks"

also "multililly" should be "lilywhites"

Now Can You See Me

Last we spoke we were in the woods
I had eaten two or three mushroom heads
and went to find the tallest, thickest tree
I wasn’t looking for epiphany
but there really was a very, very long moment
staring up at the structure of its development
still growing at the tips

when the sun really did burst out from behind the clouds
and found its way through the April limbs and leaves
so beautifully that I fell to my knees

and thought about when all the light shone for one
and what if that could happen to us all
so I could be with you again and undo what had been done

In the April Wisconsin breeze
My rented cabin visible through the trees
the tears filling up the bottoms of my eyes
knowing that it wasn’t happening
and the clouds were quickly coming back
I offered a compromise toward the sky

Please
Can you at least see me
Trying, trying
See me struggling
Struggling with what you said

Though I completely rejected your method
You couldn’t see an alternate
Most nights I couldn’t wait to drive off and forget

Thinking, you can’t catch me
You won’t see me

The difference between now and then is
an understanding that we both believed
in things that could never be proven
like keeping going when you’re losing badly
or treating a one-way conversation with the wind
as a turning point in a relationship

I want to let go of all of it
Except these things

You taught me to trust myself
You didn’t try to argue with me
You believed that I had decent reasons
Even if you didn’t understand them
You were very patient with me
Would that I have offered the same to you

The sun was covered again
the tallest tree dropped the last leaves from last year
as the wind picked up
and the linseed oil kept my palette wet
back at the cabin
thinking, now that you can’t catch me
now can you see me

I just did something brave
I just did something bad

Something of an itinerant
burning books of magic

An old memory, perfected
looping
disintegrating
recorded, listened
I listen

Something of a Scavenger

I can be found
Digging through discarded matter
Finding things I had forgotten
Turning back the corners of rotten calendars
Covered up with coffee grounds and egg shells
Every day is a field day for the earthworms

The mess left behind after an explosion
Waking up in a different zip code

So often, it’s after an ending
when we finally begin
to walk again with a sense of purpose
I saw myself making another promise

to forget the past and

to try to come back to being in the moment

but if that is living, as I speak now or as you hear it
then what is it when we are dreaming
when we submit to the moment’s whims
Sensing another and catching a glimpse
of unrepeatable depths of subconsciousness

You try to go back and it looks like mist

Moving through walls that shift
like sand sifting through
cracks in the ceiling
Throw a tarp over the most expensive
Rug that keeps going and going

A long conversation turning in on itself

(I try to turn the light back on)

The lost can be found
Looking for traces of their lives in the remains
of a time that still feels frozen

All those hand moves you've beem mocking me for?
I've been trying to restrain, but I've decided NO MORE
Imma let them run rampant, but you deserve a cheatsheet
Just so in future you know what I'm going for

First off, that two fingers against the thumb?
That's the standard, it just means I'm thinking
Maybe I can't find the right word
It's called STIMMING, never call me out for that

Secondly, the wave that follows, accidentally towards your face?
That just means I'm finished with my thought
I never meant to threaten violence towards you
Not just now, or any other of them times

Thirdly, the drumming on the bar?
It accompanies the subtle gaze around
Maybe some teuchter in here wants to do me harm
It never hurts to be cautious

The full-on hand swivel, originates at the wrist?
fingers splayed, while I'm in conversation
That means I don't trust that person
Get me out, please somehow GET ME OUT

The clenched fists, rubbing up and down my jeans?
Means I can tell that somehow I've fucked up
I don't get facial cues but I can tell by your vocal tone
That I'll prolly walk home tonight

With a bang of the gavel
the time to travel arrives.

Aching and weary
I say my teary goodbyes.

The prisoner in my mind
is in no kind of condition

to note our cognitive dissonance
ever since he stopped listening.

To me it was the crime
and the hard times that followed

which made the sound of my advice
to change our life ring so hollow.

Somebody had to keep the plates spinning
when I was sinning in the wilderness.

But it was then that my inner voice
made a choice to narrate my mess

It began to influence the movement of my body.
I sensed it plotting to change my direction

and pushed back against its arrangements
to swerve my ship around icy obstructions.

I think we both tried to take the helm
and quell the other’s resistance

If we were thirsty for plot development
for a moment it was quenched.

My wreck was accompanied by sad violins.
Since then it’s mostly been the silent treatment.

Unanswered questions
festering intent.

The great editor in the sky
realizes there will be no mending

of an independent film
with a horse-sized pill of an ambiguous ending

revision

The prisoner in my mind
was in no kind of condition

to note our cognitive dissonance
ever since he stopped listening.

To me it was the crime
and the hard times that followed

which made the sound of my advice
to change our life ring so hollow.

Somebody had to keep the plates spinning
while I was sinning in the wilderness.

But it was then that my inner voice
made a choice to narrate my mess

It began to influence the movement of my body.
I sensed it plotting to change my direction

and pushed back against its arrangements
to swerve my ship around icy obstructions.

I think we both tried to take the helm
and quell the other’s resistance.

We were thirsty for plot development.
For a moment it was quenched.

The wreck was accompanied by sad violins.
Since then it’s mostly been the silent treatment.

Unanswered questions
festering intent.

Two bodies in water that is choppy
with temperatures dropping rapidly.

In the last days of the storm
I ached for his reformed voice to speak back to me.

I wanted our feet back on the ground.
but my efforts amounted to nothing.

I only had myself to thank.
My heart sank while we were floating.

Sank to the very bottom of the ocean
A motion to plead guilty.

Guilty to the very last drop.
But which things should I stop doing.

With a bang of the gavel
the time to travel arrives.

Nodding and weary
I say my teary goodbyes

to the other side of my reflection
the section that once tried

It’s not my farm to sell.
Tell them truth or tell them lies.

through a combo of my computer being destroyed, trying to do some weird bullshit via the accessibility options accessible via pressing the power button 3 times in succession, some bad luck, and some worse judgment, i somehow completely destroyed my Notes file of poems. i posted a lot of them on here, but i almost always updated them afterward and changed a lot of things. i am an idiot. but that's ok. i feel like a tornado just destroyed everything, and it's nice to start with nothing in some ways

:(

Seventyskyline, look west and then lie
I've met yer imaginary friend
Seriously we gunna start on them boys?
Kevincusin always looked out for yerma

the devintyfellas have a deep lefteye
eyeball straight at yer family
Whose got their hand up? I only count one or two
I shout for Ceirwen, the only one bornteshit

and then the room shout kicks you out of your reverie
show your hands, naw, it's not important
you know this kids, naw skid just back off of it
you found your corner, just take deep breaths and then wut

Imembered this boy, for whatever it's worth
Duntree algoth, I still member him stillstill
Hands off me, I REMEMBER THAT EVENING
Flock yer pockets, you know it's the truth

i almost always updated them afterward and changed a lot of things

the important changes happened in yer brain. don't reset it to the factory defaults and yer ok.

Levanti child, pick yourself from the floor
"devinty" means there's twenty of them or more
Solitude solitude, then shout for help with math singular
The uni fuck just forgot what I said

Lebben birthdaycakes you'll feel in the morning
Lebben Smarties for a skelp from yer maw
Boycott Nestle for a wink from the old yin
Boycott Tuesday, shouting into the void

KLF doc, I think The Kid almost gets it
Solitude onetime means the sqaure root of one
Flip all cards you please, they all say the same thing
I'll just squint and pretend I see your face

Foxtrot to instructions but I wasn't listening
Realike vertract to a number of sins
Throw the pills up high, they'll come down in slow motion
The retelling said they sparkled in the air

Maybe stop slurring your words, just replace "bornteshit"with "born to this shit". Also not happy with "then wut" but I have no solution for that, "what" would be an improvement but still not correct. No memory of what "Duntree algoth" was meant to mean but I'm happy to roll with that cus I like it aesthetically. The second part seems legit IT'S ALL ONE POEM!

"Duntree" surely means frequently, contextually "algoth" must refer to being wasted on some particular drug? I am glad I explained to myself what "devintry" meant in a later verse, "levanti" I think refers to lifting up.

"vertract" maybe some sort of withdrawal or religious spurning. "Lebben" maybe refers to consumption? Translation from my blackout state is tough...

ELEVENTY THOUSAND! I'm as surprised as you are
Let's count our blessings and walk back to the pub
Just keep your mouth shut, here's a nugget for jukebox
Wipe the smirk off your face, we have to socialise

Layla outro, pretend it's coincidence
Nah, I donno where your kid is at
Member that carride where he paid like a puggy?
No idea what you're talking about...

Seventies villains still wear the same jackets
If I kill him I can steal his shoes
Swedish midwife is wagging her finger
I can wait, check my feet, I can wait

Some of these children grew up in my mother's house
Let's find Michael and doublecheck
I remember that haircut, I remember that scuff-the-floor
Pretend you lived somwhere else

The way the teens guard me, the fact they're carrying tools
Flints a fire deep down in my chest
The way they slinked off when you had that heart issue
Means I should talk to their dad

I'd chill with The Priestess, but she lives up the heavy hill
I severed that ribbon many months ago
That twitchy lane, with the geese and the enemy?
I'll have the youth burn it down

#onepoem

It was a travel league. Since our home field was flooded, we always played in another town, riding on the bus through the valley.

Several times, that year, it was homecoming for the other team. In retrospect, I know the reason was, the home team, naturally, hosting their homecoming, would usually plan to win the game, so they’d arrange the league’s schedule to play the worst team. That would be us.

As it was happening, it was always a surprise, at least to me.

The parking lot dust passed through the open windows. When we made our sweaty exit from the bus, some of it was on my forehead.

I saw their marching band gathering. I saw one of the kids struggling with a big bass drum. It was about as big as him. He was a rail thin wicket. He was trying not to look like it was too heavy, but it was. The harness dug deep into the shoulders. All the same he stood in line.

I heard them making fun of him.

The game quickly got out of hand. I was sitting on the bench, as I was accustomed, watching the players, watching the crowd.

I saw an ambulance parked behind the wire fence. Fireflies arranged musically on the practice field behind the lot. Pairs of lights smoothly moving on the highway. So many bugs flying way up in the bright lights.

I saw the coach’s assistant to the assistant, adjusting his headset.

The band played Land of 1000 Dances. It was over. We went 0 and 10.

I saw the bass drum kid, afterward.

Several years afterward. He had left for college and came back round. He was a sweet kid.

He wore new clothes and acted differently. We made eye contact but he didn’t recognize me.

The bar at the end of the world
Was surprisingly busy
A couple of regulars were there
All people I didn’t want to see

heaven is a place
where no one gets sick
because when they get sick
they get kicked out of heaven

Karl is that earlier one a Marilyn Haggerty review of an away game?

honestly, i have no idea what that means! :D

so no, it is not. but i want to hear more lol

i just posted an updated version on my instagram, *burp**

Oh I was just referencing the newspaper food writer from Grand Forks who was famous for reviewing Olive Garden a while back; her prose has that kind of floating, detached poetry to it as well. Marilyn Haggerty's amazing Olive Garden review and the subsequent viral shitstorm

i KNEW the name sounded familiar, lol! but i could only think of merle haggard, threw me off ;)

Would you like to receive personalized recommendations?
Would you mind if I received them instead?
Can I add them to my great ball pit of better options
and play the crane game with a pair of chopsticks?

haiku

You did a no growth.
Attach the stone of lossless
Insipidity

30 day notice
Hour long session
Receiving packages
Do you really want to

haiku

What is up with toads
It’s like frogs are one thing but
What is up with toads

TRIANGLES

This is not a poem
I just wanted to place that word here
To remind myself to write about TRIANGLES
(this weekend)

When I can afford to be unsober
At least enough to write
...something
(something about TRIANGLES?)

tbh I've already forgot
My important thoughts about TRIANGLES
But maybe the sight of that word is a madeline
And they will rush back, Proustianlike

So when I'm next in this vicinity
When my veins are more liquor than blood
Remind me to talk about TRIANGLES
(maybe football-related? I forget)

You're sat on my sofa and I don't know how to calm you
let's pretend that it's two thousand and four
"actually my band is named THE RAGDOLL PHYSISISTS"
I won't spell it right for a few more months
Yeah you're right, "PROGRESSIVE POWERUPS" would funnier
But I'm a child, more relevantly I'm stubborn
Give it some years, I'll kick that boy to the kerb
And feel the need to rewrite the whole affair

If it's 2004 let's go visit My Mother
And see if there's new text on her table
Jade wrote "Miss Hunny Pussy", I'll get a row for that later
But Sharris will flex, and put a tenner in her swear jar
Let's hunker on her lawn and wait for the explosion
Cos sadly Fiona is no longer alive to recreate the actual scene
I'm waiting for My Mother to go visit her real family
So I can set teens on this spot to spar, for my amusement

But it's twenty twenty two, and I still carry the same knife
That old man still ain't turned up, let's just write him off by now
They can throw all the rocks they want, I'll just volley them back
42, still got it, a sweet left foot (and shin)

The way I hold the unlit cigarette in my hand
Lengthwise alongside the Clipper
Finishing my IMPORTANT point before I exit the building?
(no doubt waving the other hand, pinpointing invisible stuff in the air)
It was just pointed out to me TODAY
By an IMPORTANT, BEAUTIFUL person
That that is a gesture I clearly picked up from My Mother
Right enough, I see it now
I just never noticed before
Unlike all my siblings, I don't physically resemble her
As previously discussed, I take after [my father]
FOR MY SINS!
But now it has been pointed out
That is one thing that will live on of My Mother
When she dies
(cus cmon, she's gunna die eventually)
Only one of her other children smokes
And I have not observed how he holds an unlit cigarette
I will take nothing from [my father]
Except I guess this bruised face
Maybe he's already dead?
(he was looking pretty rough last time we spoke)
He could barely speak
FOR HIS SINS!
Pretty sure he was breaking numerous lockdowns
A pink sweatshirt, advertising some Korean nursey
Maybe signifies a third (or fourth?) family
Yellow stains down the front
I'm guessing mustard? Fuck knows...
But I hold the unlit cigarette identical to My Mother
And that counts like a million times more
Than (I just remembered) the fag burns on my arm
From his scumbag hun colleagues

FIRST OF ALL:
I was never aware of what went down in Egersund
i was a child, I was barely awake
Like, a kitten who's eyes were not quite open
I was present, just didn't understand
I just remember the hushed conversations
Before I was noticed, then hustled away
Two times I watched Spurs play friendlies against Viking
Lineker, Gascoigne, the way they spoke of Gascoigne, even then

The other thing I remember was something horrific
A man on fire in a shopping cart
Imprinted on me, but I've worked it out now
It was Manhunter on VHS, right?
Oh, one other thing was my toddler sister
Downing any glass of spirits she toddled across
It was funny to grownups, I think they maybe encouraged it
But guess what? She turned out OK

SECONDLY:
Those times in that flat in Camden Town
Only me and my sister, the two non-bedwetters
We slept on the floor of my father's living room
Second time in a cinema, first experience of penguins
The times when the neighbour below came and chapped the door
Cus we were making too much noise
The pure fury on the face of my father
"your daughter's trying to sleep? YOUR DAUGHTER'S SEVENTEEN!"

I genuinely thought I was the big man
My bedwetter brother had to stay with my aunt
I knew he also got to the cinema for Batman
I never knew the rest til he let it slip months later
My auntie also took him to Dick Tracy!
I was fuming, thinking I'd missed out
Decades later, we can laugh about it
We both agree that film was Kinda Shit

THIRD:
[ENTIRELY REDACTED, SEXUAL ABUSE AND SUCH]

FORD:
I don't see my father these days
I can make Pavement jokes to my brother about his current whereabouts
Career/Korea, I haven't quite got the punchline
But yknow, it's/I'm a work in progress
My new father is a guy called Al, or Bert?
I recall the relevance of the album "Hirt Plays Bert", but not the direction
I just know he freqeuntly stands in front of Judy
Maybe we both need to cut down on the drink

Like I just want to say, blaming everthing on alcohol?
Makes me uneasy slash narked slash actually fucking furious
As an alcoholic can I just say: I never hit a woman
Alcohol makes me fall around the room
Makes me a stuttery incoherent fool
Never not one instance made me "violent"
My father was a violent drunk (but I'm not sure if I ever met him sober)
Yeah he beat me whilst drunk, beat My Mother whilst drunk
BUT! (and here's the point right here)
Maybe he is/was just a violent person
Maybe sobriety just keeps your natural feelings down
Maybe I'm naturally an incoherent stumbly fool

Alcohol lets me talk to people
Cus Sober Me really wants to talk to people!
Alcohol stops the buzzing in my head
So I can concentrate on "hey, how YOU doing?"
I shouldn't mix it with meds, cus then I wake up in a van
(TRUE STORY, let's not get into it now)
I promised that Lady I'd explain about THE TRIANGLES
But next day it seems as important as carpet
But I remember walking into that room
Don't remember the outcome, but I washed three glasses
I can guess who for, I'll smirk from across the bar
(just don't mention the van bisnes, we'll never speak of that)

There are three people you need to deal with
Myself slash My Demons slash My Dead Friends
We'll pass the ball between us, before you know it we've killed your owl
They shoulda known better to hang out in that spot

*than to, dammit

It will take years to
tonight was magic

Genuflect then circumflex, maybe buy a new keyboard
c+p gets me so far then a brick to my head
Question my vocabulary, have you met my family?
Count the characters twice, I guess that you win again

4/4 brings me back in the same perfect circle
7/8 of your life puts you right on the piano stool
Do the "math", yeah I've done it, in fact multiple times over
Another joke your (valid) phrasing won't allow you to get

"wheels within wheels", mumbled physical level
was that meant for a poem or just a personal note?
"people scream differently when they're on fire"
I hope I never remember where I got that from

I need one of those notebooks, with some cheesy shit on the cover
For me to fill up with a shaky hand
Turns out I'm wrong, there's already one on my fridge
Young L. must have gifted it fuck knows years ago

Scanning it now, it's incoherent scribbles
Constant rewrite of the Days Of Christmas
Just scored out lines, and arrows pointing random places
"AND A MOOOOOUTHIE IN THE KEY OF SEEEEE!"

See?

You want to borrow that one line? Fuck You, Pay Me
It comes with hand movements, like in one job lot
Your fake currencies? I think the clue's in the title
I'll take it in Sterling, fucking do it or not

Call it tunnert cash right now on the table
Unless you want to double down
I'll lay it all on that boy there, I know his mother
Whereas I spoke with that weegie, he's a fucking clown

Do a 360, check the lack of astonishment
One time they all seen Kid backflip out The Tree
Everyone cheered then, I just went and cooked breakfast
He doesn't drink but also doesn't use cutlery

Yeah there's hometown applause, but watch who he fistbumps
See? I was one of only two or three
Threatens past "Friends" of his mammy on a regular basis
But never once has had a problem with me

Your pierogi tattoo
Oh yeah that's cute,
Remind exactly where we stand?
"A Better Future", I'll just check my wrists

Oh sorry, got confused, the latter thing is some latter thing...

(genuinly fuck any pierogi tattos)

I LOVE MY JOB!
Just kidding, I don't have a job
Occasionally I get paid to paint pubs
But they make me walk planks, sorry Chief, how bout NAW

I was a waiter once, at a steakhouse, for like 5 minutes
Then they decided I was better off just writing things down
But I was too slow, and stuck my tongue out to concentrate
Then got fired and went back to my bed

For my little brother's 30th birthday I gave him a knife with magic powers
Had my mother hand it over cus I don't mix with that crowd
She didn't understand, but reported back
Apparently he looked at it, smirked, and nodded

He understood
He worked at that steakhouse much longer than me

Jink sideways, mon now son you surely got it from Desert Strike
Have you never learnt lessons applicable to Real Life?
I seen you play two games, did it never occur to you
Hollow Knight was released between the pair of them

Did you never wonder why Kid crouches on the pavement
Before he enters that scummy (necessary) shop?
He's recharging his Soul meter, the fact that I get that
Explains why only one of us pair has been stabbed in our sleep

V. asked me to be in her band, I was chuffed for a second
Til she clarified as back up dancer, "with your sweet sweet moves"
Yeah I'll take the compliment, but the evenings we've spent together
with me chugging away at rhythm guitar with that heavy arm

Or even my drunken three chord piano
Which I surely hauled out that pub cellar for a reason
It sat in my mother's house for about 4 years
The scores on the pavement lasted longer than that

Then I befriended a removal guy
Who had access to a van, and a sweet trolley
Set it down in this room with a out of tune THUNK
I doubt it affected it much, I PREVIOUSLY HAULED IT OUT A PUB CELLAR

V. basically wants a band built around her (clean) new boyfriend
"a musician - a drummer!", well which one is it?
She did not appreciate that joke
My awesome humour is wasted on the wasted

She said Kid can be in on keyboards
She's fucking dreaming, that sounds far too prescriptive
There's a reason why when i formed THE RAGDOLL PHYSISISTS
We had his role down as "Texture"

I don't think I need to be involved in this scheme
Cus me and Kid have an unspoken pact
Right now he's hitting presets on a Roland EG-101
I'm strumming the Velvet chords, ancor' til the sun comes up

true blue, true blue
if you're headed out
I would go with you

Only tell me which half of it was true
and I'll tell you too

JHM I am rooting hard for your band

So My Mother is texting Yxxxx Lxxxx, asking if her partner can come do some job
"He's her tattoo boy, must be cool, right?" NO
FIRST OFF, My Mother, you should know:
He's a PETRIE! Not that cool now, right?
I know you've had run-ins with that family before...
SECOND OFF: That's Lxxxx's boyfriend!
Cool your heels, just consider
When has that ever (EVER!?!) worked out well for this family as yet?

Remember that one boy who claimed he'd flown THIRTEEN HOURS STRAIGHT to the quiz?
I personally remember that squinty eye you shot at him
Remember that one boy moved his lips when reading
You never looked at that one, just looked at Her, and shook your head
Remember that other guy's explaination for a lack of licence?
"I did 120 in a 30 zone" > CUNT
Remember his smug face, remember that shit I started?
Understand why you never see him round my house

Did you see us slow dancing round your living room?
I know you did, cus you interjected
23 grand, you enjoyed seeing her shocked face
Then we left, after I whispered "40 years ago..."
"Woodworm Willy" was your last words, I had to explain
It was his lifestyle, nothing to do with STDs
I took her home, more slow dancing etcetera
I'll sell your house, just never talk to us again

A POEM CALLED "MY MOTHER'S NEW KNIFE"
Haha no, her knife is rubbish
Fair play, it's metal but painted blue
And doesn't have the appropriate weight

I wanted a neutral perspective, fortunately there was a random lady
Stood right there in your "classy" hall
I put one in each hand, she looked at me weird and said nothing
But I could tell by her face I WIN AGAIN

Deez poemz UK

“You didn’t see this” she said
as she overpoured the beans
into the hopper

Three trophies and lump it, son
Just look me in the eyes and tell me where you're from
Your Big Brother can't help you now
Did you stab that posh boy yet? No? Then you don't get to rhyme

70-40 doesn't add to a hunnert
That means THE GHOSTS are liars, don't listen to them
But still stab the posh boy
Just do it on your own recognisance

"is that even a word?"
Hey Fuck You, maybe ask THE GHOSTS
While you're at it, ask them for Arborio rice
You live on my sofa, maybe contribute

My GHOSTS could take your GHOSTS in a head-on fight
Unless you can think of a word that rhymes with KNIFE
There's only so many times you can rotate the piano stool
You're not stupid, you understand 360° means you're facing the same way as before, right?

Headphones keep your brain cool, they're not even plugged in
But no one is fooled, to your constant chagrin
Sunglasses at night, you claim they're prescription
They're not helping your sight so we know that is fiction

The demons are massing, bearing pool cues and such
But the odd random glassing won't slow you down much
The pins in your arm might set off some alarms
But medallions and alms should protect you from harm

You make a clear beeline to the one that you love
Your brow furrows in realtime as we watch from above
Half and half scarf surely grounds for dismissal
Scarified heart makes you pray for the missiles

(ok, that one got worse and worse as I crowbarred all the internal rhymes in, but I remain proud of "Half and half scarf"/"Scarified heart"...)

New episode of Barry will keep our minds off all the pets to tame
But I'd prefer to gaze out your window, work my psychic powers
If I stare at that forest long enough it'll all burst in flames
WAIT! Did you see that? Definite smoke, mark it down as a win

This bench is definitely halfway round the walk
(if I kinda shuffle on the way back home)
Sit here long enough, that certain dogwalker will pass
I bet he's got a Clipper lighter that works

I wrote this one for the preschool friend who made it to a published book
Ignore the halfhearted bullying when he was desperate to fit in
I wrote it for my brother who made it out that cursed bedroom
He's a fireman now, I apologise for the psychic bisnes

I wrote it for my "soulmate" who writes poetry now to stay clean
She's doing so much better than me
She keeps asking for a date to visit
That's a bad idea, on so many levels

I am not good for nothing
I am getting good at becoming nothing

You wouldn’t last three days living like me
You’d need something to happen
so badly
You would nearly do what
I couldn’t possibly

While you go do anything
I stop at nothing
to keep running on empty

Let what is the heaviest sink
in the deepest
sense of meaninglessness
it could change my mind

In the event of happiness
make no sudden movements
do not try to hold onto or
give a name to it
Avoid those notions
which suggest latent shapes of desperation
Act as though you don’t notice it

nothing will happen
eventually
who are we now
is the mystery

When the seagulls follow the tractor
It's cus we live in a valley, they know fish ain't a factor
The crows tip their beaks, thinking "fair play", "well done"
Then they shit on the council, cawing "immigrants welcome"

I was mowing the lawn when you appeared without warning
How many pullups did you get through this morning?
Rub the sleep from your eyes before you come on as sub
Clack the mud off your good shoes if you want let in the club

Your mother's the one thing that I gave up for Lent
But I beg her forgiveness for the texts that I sent
I was in a bad place, specifically Montrose
I'm not your daddy, I'm just wearing his clothes

Truth be told I'll prolly follow him down
But don't judge my nation on one clichéd clown
I heard the spiel, it was all guffament chunder
Never mind chin, he's a lottaless wonder

And when He calls me I will be prepared
Naw, this ain't no literal Jesus thing
Just line your shoes in the hallway, we both know fine well
You're clearly a bigger man than your da

You promised your auntie you'd repaint her fence
I suppose I'll help, once my body regains feeling
I was counting issues but ran out of fingers
Also only play songs that match the tempo of the waving fella

There's been damage from sticks, damage from stones
Damage from broken beds circa 1992
Go sleep out on veranda, your mother never asked why (SHE KNEW!)
17 cats bosied up, established my future life

Scars on your midthighs, scars on my ribcage
The tattoo man said he couldn't cover them up
Pass back and forth the Cowboy Bebop hoodie
Face it, we're both dying in our sleep

HOLDING EACH OTHER

Small victory
42 year history

Muttermutter I cut my nails to keep the dirt out
You don't know the hill paths as well as me
when I scarper into the trees I'm prolly strangling a rabbit
When I emerge, get Ancelotti eyebrow, feign innocence

I genuinelly have like 33 fucking "uncles"
I only have one Mother
I have (now) 3 siblings, I didn't get to pick them
But they never picked me either

The first knife I owned
Bought it from a market in Leporano
The guy tried to indicate to me to hide it in my jacket
I wasn't wearing a jacket...

It’s a lunar eclipse
said to be total in ten minutes or so
it was better when it was still partly lit
when darkness was trimming it down to a sliver

Once again, Earth is getting in the way
hogging all the light from what is closest to us
it’s on a schedule it will happen again

I read somewhere* that all the planets could easily fit
on a line between ourselves and the crescent
I presently pointed my phone at

Zooming with an easy reverse pinch motion
I accidentally used the flash and laughed
at the immediate reminder of my humanity

*caek

https://i.imgur.com/o45OH4o.jpg

"vociferous" yeah, I mean his voice was ferocious
Then you waggled your fingers, I guess to indicate closeness
The hidden context maybe SHUT YOUR FUCKEN MOUTH TIMOTHY
I'm TRYING MY BEST, I swear (maybe don't actually swear tho)

Exactly one year (I lie), ticktick ON THE DOT
But the referee points to the penalty spot
Conversate about I forget what, meaningless shit
But I remember what Benjamin said to the busdriver

Twenty years ago

"Pray for bombs, pray for snow..."

How is it when I walked around Brickfield
Everyone thought I was Doogie?
Teenage girls on the street: "HEY DOOGIE!"
Shouts from high windows: "WHERE YE HEADED DOOGIE?"
I asked Fiona, who lived nextdoor
She said "no joke, you're a deadringer for Doogie"
So apparently I have a doppelganger
Never crossed his path

Malin moved, Fiona died, I stopped walking those streets
But I still think of the people I met
That middle-aged guy dressed up for karate
I paused on the pavement, bowed for him, a mental gong hit
There was no one there to confirm my comedic skills
Except the child who asked me if a had a fag
I said "yes, thanks", and showed him, ALSO HILARIOUS
I was wasted on that estate

Fasetiousness
Come take a piece of this
Come teach me how to spell
Pretend you're doing well

I like your wobble, sometimes subtly encourage it
Nextdoor blatantly cheers on the shimmy
Curtis frequently tussles with his one true best friend
I love them both, but maybe one more than the other

DON'T. MAKE. ME. CHOOSE.

In a flip between heating and eating, I chose drinking
Seemed like the best of both worlds at the time
It's good that your siblings are increasingly politicised
But your mother needs to not be on facebook

Yon Kid smirked, said I only write of "knives and mothers"
Not true, I frequently mention you too
But next time he retunes my guitar to some weird shit
I'll stab his maw with a knife, then maybe write about it...

This poem is called QUAGLIARELLA, for Reasons
Come here
Sit on my sofa
And try to talk me out of it

Dusty pockets, bottle rockets
Doublecheck what's on the docket
Female, about 9 years too young, she needs to not apologise
Count her cats, ignore Twitch chat
Hallucinate more vampire bats
Six steps from the stairway is the best place to hypothesize
N-n-n-nineteen is somewhat green
But she's been on the café scene
Squinted at her wrists, clean of slashes and/or needlemarks
A litany of past mistakes
And Gochugaru chili flakes
Reverberate throughout but I knocked it out the park

(the answer to your first question: my little brother)

Sorry about when I threatened Kid's mother
It was a joke
I would NEVER
NEVER, I SAY!
In fact I'll name my next-but-one cat Kid's government name
Cus, y'know...
I love him
Y'know?
(also his mother)

(in anticipation of your next question: KOSTAS)

V.'s getting pissed off at the words that I send her
"Why don't you just MARRY HER then?"
Cus she left like THREE YEARS AGO!
She's prolly in London, most everyone is
Not everything I write is contemporary
I thought that's how poetry works
What do I know?
But if you see her, tell her I miss her
Her name starts with an A
First time I went to that shithole alone I slept on a sofa myself
In the room of a guy whose name started with B
I jokedly grumbled "I was told these streets were paved with gold..."
Maybe I'll call him, I've still got his details
Tell him to look out for a girl who's name starts with an A
Otherwise
Just tell the penguins me and my sister said hi

(...ictoria. NO MORE QUESTIONS!)

Try to clear my mind
But the puns return again
Honkin’ on bobo

All eyes turn to me when the mediator asks me what I think
I just tip my head back to get the last dregs of the drink
That's the only reason I notice the stains on the ceiling
They somehow give me power to explain just how I'm feeling

You've met my father, eh? Well tell me what route to follow
You're Lobby McCuntface, and I claim ALL THE AMERICAN DOLLARS
Come summer and Gala week I'll lay it all down on some duck
But if that boy's on the bridge again I guess we'll be shit out of luck

Pop Quiz Hotshot! What comes in flurries? Snow, and... blows?
What else could I expect today? Who knows
Small mercies, at least there's ice for the swelling
And sledging later, and exaggerated stories for the telling

Brandy/Coke in plastic bottles, a natural chillbox on the ground
Kid takes one big swig and promptly sprays it all around
Can't be a spit-take, I've been assured I'm not that funny
Maybe he's just sharing the wealth, like his maw does with my money

Cops down the close today, chapped front and back and peered in windows
Then walked back out slowly, questioning the biddies
Young Laura was far too excited, leaned out the window, followed it like Love Island
Or Wagatha Christie or whatever, all I know is that cushion will need cleaning
"Boy stays there is dead" she said, maybe, or wanted for something
I spent the afternoon trying to recall if the tenant had changed
Cus all I recall of that house is the dog who tried to repeatedly kill my cat
Chased him back home and jumped at the window, snarling and drooling
Each time eventually his owner came down the lane to drag him home
A cheerful "sorry!", like oh deary me, it's happened again
Like as if he'd dropped crumbs on my carpet
As opposed to try to murder my best friend

Whatever's going on in there it'd take numerous bodies
To jump into the top 3 village dramas
1. pub explosion 2. impaled cyclist 3. "gun siege"
Actually I take it back, fuck that last one

That time some cars got keyed in some domestic shandybang?
More dramatic than "gun siege"
When the councillor didn't turn up to judge the dog show?
More dramatic than "gun siege"
When I spilt Swedish meatballs out that amazingly tasty wrap, and they bounced right down the front of my second best Busan Giants baseball shirt?
More dramatic than "gun siege"
If that boy has fell asleep and just isn't answering the door?
Eh, prolly statistically exactly the same drama as "gun siege"

The worst thing about "gun siege" to me
(not that girl who missed her birthday party, no one was turning up anyway, cus she stunk of piss, and her house stunk of dog)
But the daughter of the perpetrator, crying next day in school
Cus the elder girls were giving her grief

That was fucked up
I can't pass her in the street now without that flashing through my head

But point is, if that dog owner still lives in that house down the close
I've wished death on that boy repeatedly
Sicced the minature demons with their deathrays on him (never worked)
So if it is the same boy, and he is dead in there...

Good.

"SPINELESS"?!? Fuck you I'm all spine, it's just painfully crooked
i came in fourth that one time, why is that still relevant?
OK I don't "own" a baby, but I held one once
It worked out FINE, why is your pinched brain attitude entranching on my territory?

Summatsummat bout yerma, let's try this: SSSSSHHHHHH!
I recall you waltzing with me round this (yes) pretty small room
Did you actually grow multiple inches in your twenties?
Also, when did the Irish learn to speak Italian?

Swirlyswirly, it's (hmmm) possible we'll both get out alive
Are we picking corners now? I only brought one bucket
But when you're pegging it down that street, remember to thank me
Just stop, catch your breath, think of me, and whisper "thanks..."

I like your poems, Jonathan

Your socks are RED and PIRATE, so double lucky
I put "DARE TO DREAM!" in the groupchat, but that was pure posture
It was for the benefit of the youngers, whose brains are still mushy and impressionable
I think it's important to leave some fingerprints on there

Really tho, you heard which song was playing when you walked through the front door
"I Think It's Going To Rain Today"
You tried to distract me with talk of various versions
But c'mon, in this household it's Judy Collins, for now and til eternity

I'm not good with facial expressions, we've discussed this before
The cheatsheets from Jigsaw were less than useless
But that's concern, right? I've seen it a lot recently
Last time from youknowwho, followed with a verbal "are you alright?"

No the Ragdolls don't need a website, the whole folderol's 79% (plus/minus) imaginary
And 3/5 of us can't even spell our name
But while you're buying domains, can I have Timothytherockband.com?
Seriously, you don't get that reference?

You're really far too young for me to be associating with
Do you even remember a period when your arm was an arm?
Take a lap round the estate
(with a lighter that actually works, I'm not a monster)

I remember when vaping was a different concept
Every fucker had that same wooden thing
With that same shitty platitude wrote on the back
Mines prolly in that drawer there, I'll leave it you in my will

Sorry, can I append the following to the preceding:

That girl you brung in? Sat on my sofa saying nothing?
I'm afraid to ask her age
But the way she holds her hand over exactly half her face
Seems like an important statement, if I can only decipher it

IN MEDIAS RES: I'm crouched on the lino
My stomach retches two or three more times
Nothing comes out except... I think it's bile?
Bright yellow like egg yolk, mind them funcy eggs?

Slowly raise up, check my legs are still working
Carefully place a single square of paper down
Rinse my mouth with... VODKA? Fuck has my life come to?
Make sure everyone sees my teeth as I walk back in

Crouch by the records, as an excuse to crouch
Pretend to scan the spines, as if I don't know them by heart
"Inspector Norse again?" comes the cry from the cheap seats
"No" I lie, pulling literally whatever's where my finger landed

It was a Numero comp of gospel music
We all sat there in silence til both sides played out
It was really cool, but that night I imagined everyone lying in bed
Pondering exactly why I picked that specific record

Frankly Kid, I disagree
We've reached the point in the year when I need to go visit your auntie
Sit in her backyard, smoke a few cigarettes, unload everything onto the slabs
I know she'll not hug me, just hesitate then pat my head

That's all I ask for

I deliberately won't preannounce my arrival
Cus I feel bad when she lays out the big spread
2 pots of coffee and an ashtray, I'm set
Find sneaky banknotes in my jacket pocket after I've left

That's not necessary
She's no more well off than me

The wind hits my face as I turn down the lane to the harbour
Detour past the Bamse statue, tip my hat, if I'm wearing one
Inhale the chinese fumes as I scuttle through the tunnel
Oh they've got a sign now, good for them

Never going in there again
They will ask me about Someone Dead, that's too upsetting
Also their menu is far too lengthy for my feeble mind

Fucking 2 decades younger than me, apparentley 2 decades smarter than me
Like, mimicked my groan, mimicked my body language
The same two fingers pointed at the same screen
Tbh, she's prolly fucking hilarious on a day-to-day basis

HOW MANY CHILDREN HAVE WE LEFT OUTSIDE?
I didn't care til she bust out that singsong voice
Fuckit, let's feed EVERY SINGLE ONE of them
You gunna make tempura batter?

OH WOW, SHIT, I'M EXPECTED TO DO THIS?
YES I'M AWARE I'M BETTER AT IT THAN YOU!
No problem, I just want it documented in a book:
"Timothy Fed The Children."
"Jennifer just stood and watched."

Oh yeah this morning, when my mother walked in
My dick was in your hand, we immediately broke apart
I somehow developed a deep interest in that stack of boardgames there
You were suddenly making coffee, which I know you're shit at
You sighed three times while she was sat on my sofa
She smoked 4 of my cigarettes, she better fucking pay me back
You sighed a final time as she walked out the door
Then just giggled, I caught Curtis as he walked past, we all just giggled
This afternoon, that time spent on the carpet, the three of us giggling
I forgot the reason, Curtis never knew the reason, we still carried on
Giggled til my chest hurt, Curtis eventually got bored and left
Me and you never spoke a word to each other, but eventually we were just gazing in each others eyes
Just smirking at this point, but you never looked cuter

One of the cousins visiting from Australia, WOW!
Give me some football snark, I have some genuine upper ground
I fed you fish pie, AT MY MOTHER'S HOUSE!
Like, I genuinelly cooked a fish pie from what was available AT MY MOTHER'S HOUSE!
It got late, you whipped out the whisky
Cus apparently you'd been on the west coast
I forget what distillery, but I just called it "pleaseantly peaty"
"not peaty at all", you said
Ah fuck off ye smug fuck
Just cus me & Mark can't afford these bottles
But then when drinks were taken it all gets political

I said "so yeah, seems better now in Australia, from what I've followed?"
"Albanese, better than Scomo?" "NO!"
"They're all EVIL!" "yeah I guess I agree..."
It got quite cool when you called for "REVOLUTION!"
Less cool when followed up with "...or Demagogue..."
I deliberately went out to smoke, missed the end of your sentence
On reentrance: "what Trump got right..." I had multiple pairs of eyes looking at me
It was only that one hand on my chest, I got it, maybe sit this one out
When he started some shit about immigrants
My mother joined in, "both sides" yeah whatever
I brought up the Tasmanian genocide, he started fucking fuming at me
I lit a fag, walked up the street, sat on my sofa, petted cat, wrote this

btw SORRY KM, THESE WEDDING FOOTBALL COUSINS TURNED OUT TO BE APPARENTELY MASSIVELY RASCIST! someone bring me hard drugs right now

i hate when that happens! but not your fault.

So I sat on a sofa, in a weed house
I was half (eh prolly three quarters) cut when I arrived
And IT WAS LOVELY! Lots of positive vibes
UNTIL! (yeah obv there's an UNTIL!)
This kid (NOT Kid, another kid) who (I think?) lived there said something like...
Like...
(forgive my poor memory, I was half-cut, at least)
"It's just words, words can't harm anyone..."

So I went into a rant, can't recall the specifics
(cus, well yeah)
But it definitely involved the Rwandan genocide
And multiple references to the use of the word "cockroaches"
And machetes, far too many machetes
Possibly the holocaust, I forget
but definitely Ricky Gervais, "Gamergate", JK Rowling and spitTwitter
(blehblehbleh, wash your mouth with another tin)

The one thing I remember, the old guy who was the actual tenant
(I know he'll be 70 this year, cus he's the same age as My Mother)
(I know cus his daughter told me so, fuck is this another tangent? Kill it at birth)
(just this one time we were talking about the Rolling Stones in Hyde Park after Brian Jones died and they both NO! NOT RELEVANT!)
This guy who was silent all evening
Applauded me at the end of my spiel
His son sat there, I could see his cheeks burning
I stood up, made some flamboyant gesture and left

Last night I overheard my mother talking to a cousin, in the kitchen
On my way back from the upstairs toilet
Apologising for me, said "he only sees things in black and white"
"it's because of his disabilty"
I gritted my teeth, went back to the party room
Poured the wine I acquired from eh long story
Pondered on that statement tho, even when I got home, yknow she's probably right
BUT I WILL NEVER APOLOGISE

Fuck the Queen, Fuck the Pope
Also fuck the fucks who write "Fuck the Pope"
Fuck the children who throw rocks at Curtis
In fact, fuck everyone who isn't Curtis

He maybe has longer legs than me
But is eternally the Little Spoon
Singing Kettle in the village tomorrow
Some family going, me and Curtis said FUCK NO thank you

That cousin had an objection about Qatar
No, not the basic slavery deaths
But apparently one referee is from Rwanda and female SHOCK HORROR!
Imma shut up now, maybe die in my sleep

Rubbish cups, squint the buttons look like tinnies
Curtis can't keep eyes open, Áine either
I chucked the Lucky Pirate Socks, worth sum total of fuckall
"beacons" yeahnaw, we might burn down your house tho?

(6'1", apparently. pffft...)

Sample and hold? Story of my life
Just happy to have a younger riding the filter knob
We walk in Pub, That One Lady shouts "IT'S HARD BEING JOHNNY MUMBLE!"
I was trying to gauge the sarcasm level before I decided how much offence to take

Some Jacamo Fuck thinks he can criticise my physical being?
I caught the eye of my eh Secret Sexual Partner
He blinked something to me in code, I didn't catch it
But then started fluttering his lashes to the beat of the jukebox

Threw in the occasional cheeky syncopation
It was the cutest thing I've ever seen

In Silence
they’re still waiting

to unlock the gate
to the theme park we made
and turn on the rollercoasters
just for us

The machines would whir to life
in the dead of night
the time they prefer to work
when our bodies are on autopilot
when our conversation dries up for a while

Our midnight passes indicate
we are visitors from the mind
We shave our hair in the parking lot
and float into the park like holograms

Our dim shades look just right under
drooping strands of pale christmas lights
tracing the paths of old waiting lines

winding toward the biggest rides
waiting in this emptiness
walking among the dead
and what was left for it

you and me, passing between our dreams
and my stomach is somewhere back there in a ceiling

I played JUKES in the panto, he had Megadeth lyrics on his sword
(personal choice), never helped my backstory
You shaved my trousers, I guess I'll think on my feet
The bottoms were blown off by FUCKEN CANNONBALL!

North Wales is the land of my forefathers
But the Mearns is the land of three of my four fathers
Black Bart has like a million glossary references
My Mother has apparently one, hid her face when the notebook crowd asked

Operating on one eye now
Why? WHY? Ask yer cousin's Plus One
Jilly John is now mouthing off
Anyone understand French please expain it

MY HOUSE. MY RULES.
One of them is DON'T BE BRINGING DEAD ANIMALS IN HERE
Try to bog me down in semantics about the contents of my fridge
Whatever, but you're not entering holding THAT
Oh OK, you're just gunna sit there on my lawn
Scaring away... wait... who am I expecting?

I cut every Fascist and Bigot out of my life
All I'm left with now is Creeps and Bullies
Everyone decent scarpered to London
Everyone half decent scarpered to Glasgow
Out of those left, anyone with a driver's licence
Just fucken DROVE, I guess til they fell in the sea

I've spent time in London, I've spent time in Glasgow
Those times were filled with Fascists and Bigots and Creeps and Bullies
So I guess I don't understand the Exodus
If I try harder to be better, could you please come back?
Yeah YOU individual, I don't care about the rest
Show me the list again, I'm ready this time

I mean it.

"Deal with it!"
Pure distraction, point then flit
The main problem with your brother's coin game
Is the constant crossing the road

Moue, "who, me?"
Barrel of bunting sat there for free
Pass the Duchy left until it falls in the sea
And pray nightly it drowns

In high school when asked my solution for our situation
I proposed swordfights for the tallest hills
Everyone laughed, I was King For A Day
But now I'm 42 and googling "swords buy uk"

Don't come to me with your teenage bullshit
Maybe cut off your ear, that will surely impress her
Paint her a picture of some random shit
Just don't go out in the fields, they all look like DEATH

I used to see Angels, like full-on actual beings
Lurking at bus stops, or memorial fountains
Fuzzy shapes, they made my eyes water
If I looked at them too long

I mean, I called them angels, to give them a name
I am now fully aware that was the onset of mental illness
And in my wiser years I know not to point such things out publicly
Doesn't matter, I don't see them anymore

These days it's all about the Black Cats
Constantly lurking in my peripheries
A comforting presence, if I don't think too hard
Force ghosts of my favourite boys

Face North: DEATH.
Face East: DEATH.
Face West: give me one good reason
(I will never face South)

You walked in the room muttering to yourself
I heard "(somethingsomething), only one left now"
But I have no idea what that could be a reference to
Certainly nothing related to HERE or ME

"What were you up to last night?" I forget, let's check...
Oh, arguing on the internet
With Some [alt-right adjacent] boys, they got no respect
For me or my loved ones

I remember writing those verses for (I assume) you
but I don't remember exactly what I wrote
I remember signing some shit for your crew cus they asked me to
but I never knew exactly what I was signing

I'm sure we'll find out eventually

My position was shaky right from the get-go
Ever met anyone in real life who says "potatto"?
Ah fuck it, cut the child in half
I'll take the part flipped the bird as it bled out

Shouting numbers out loud while I'm trying to Deal With Shit
You think it's hilarious, me less so
But that 4/4 THUMP THUMP constant beat
Hides the fact you only really use one meter

Hides the fact you only really have one master

And a multitude of your other sins

Yeah I'm comfy here, please stop asking
This window points the same direction as mines
OK true, I live at a higher elevation
So mibbe keep an eye out for THE FLOOD

Yeah I've warned of THE FLOOD, I'll stop going on now
"Is it a metaphor?" Who even knows at this point?
But every morning I catch Curtis squinting warily at the sky
And he knows a thing or two more than you or me

I'll be fine for this evening, hot and cold drinks both welcome
If I stand and turn I can recognise windmills
But answer me one thing (phones allowed for this question):
When is this rain due to stop?

Hello Glasgow Folk
I travelled south to get here
Thank you for the pavements firm beneath my feet
Thank you for the bushes in the park that I will sleep in tonight

Thank you for the secret vodka in the secret shop
The one the they give you when you ask for "the cheap one"
Thank You specifically, the one of youse taught me that magic trick
I wouldn't have made it without you

Maybe that would've been better
Til these questions started I thought flounder was a fish
You say you never hounded anyone out of anything
You're hounding pretty heavy right now

You should have some respect for the OCD masses
Put a double N in your made-up word
You're speaking aloud, how do I know that you didn't?
I can tell

I CAN TELL

Gird Up Thy Loins! Don't give me that shit
Short shorts then big shirts is how I grew up
Still working on that coal to diamond process
I was shaving in a pub cellar (until it blew up)

Long story short, I deboned fourteen chicken thighs
Muttered "fail better", cus I couldn't fail worse
I walked in the side door, saw your hand on treble twenty
Biro cheat codes on your forearm, bleeding through your shirt

I hit on a random til they brung up the flute shit
Then whipped medallions out, flashed the broken teeth
Your partner's from "Melbin", ask them say "Embra"
Then punch them in the face, shout WELCOME TO LEITH

Medication scarcity is fucking up our day-to-day
Your auntie's youngest still available to me
Eyeball the youngling whilst ignoring that one thing
We're both flipping coins, I bet we die on the same day

Keep up now son, you genuflect, but I genuinelly just checked
You're exactly (to the day) ten years younger than me
Proselytize but tell no lies (I see your father in your eyes)
Comparing tattoos (whisper) I got mine for free

Exhalation, procrastination, sceptical of fashy-nation
You have more towels than maneki neko... but it's close
Lying on the lino fucked on amaro and vino
I've done a survey, we have more scurvy than most

Sorry, that was terrible

Lino doesn't rhyme with vino, for a start

When you briefly stepped away
(to the fridge? to the toilet?)
I took a sneaky peek at your notation
Written on graph paper, three colours and so much geometry
I heard you coming back and rapidlike took my spot again
But I got it
These days I want you to to know, I got it
I don't understand it, but I got it then and I get it now
Fuck, I could show my (SCIENTIFIC) guitar solo chart
Or my double-sided chord progression wheel
(but not before I patent it)

One side major, one side minor

I mind all them righteous rocks you threw
I mind when you claimed every word was true
I mind when that guitar was shiny and new
Most importantly, I mind YOU
You had a different name then
But the same offbeat nod
The same involunantary twitches
The same way you'd glance sideways
Raise your right eyebrow
Whatever goes down
I'm still Team You

(ok, I woke up to that drunkenshit unsent in the text box, I kinda hate it all, especially the misspelling of involuntary, for once that's not deliberate)

I had started on At Last! A Poem About My Cat! but now I'm in a mood and deleted the whole thing. Also had some note about how discussing the opposite of onomatapeia is NOIOSO, it was very clever but I couldn't figure it out

The savage youngers close in on my lawn
I stay silent, interlock my fingers, drop to my knees
Yeah I threatened to kill him
But I added "in Roblox" so I'm legally sound

I'll be walking high street by like latest tomorrow eve
Smirk across the pub at the chud fucken narc
Wave a knife at him through two kitchen windows, that's legal, right?
Rope the kids into a Busby Berkeley routine on the tarmac, find a specific charge for that

Pick it up like some Ramsey, drop it like it's Franco
I've got more fingers than my Granda, sitting pretty pretty
If you didn't go full tankie in Disco Elysium
I can't even look at you

You've been spielling now for dunno hours, the shadow hit my foot and I stopped listening
I still don't believe Darth Vader killed Martin Luther King
Save your platitudes, I'm Christopher Walken here
Look outside, flash count, 11 enemies and one chainsaw

Eleven faces, twentysummat eyeballs tracking me
Scarper to the hall, you'll miss me kickflip off the wall
Yeah that happened. I have a witness! Oh, she passed out
When she wakes up youse pair can debate the length of my dick

I took a walk round the estate, re-entered to the same Batshit
Checked the running time, fuck you're only halfway through!
Knives don't require charging, what was I up to?
Don't ask, winkyface...

Just checking with tu padre, che é vero, che non é vero
How rapid is your brother rotating right now?
Same old sammiches, same old quotes from the same old books
If you continually stand in my room I'll continually raise whatever eyebrows I have left

Cheapish chinos, she wiped the blade on them with a finger to her lips
Then we both plastered on the grin, Simultaneous "HELLO!" as you entered
Checked the fridge, not giving you that, hell, definitely not THAT
Brew you black coffee, this is a dairy-free house, you heard!

Ned Raggett once said:
"I don't believe that radical subjectivity obliberates the platforms
so much as creates a series of dispruptions within axioms as chosen"
Now, ask me how I recall that word for word?
DECADES LATER! I didn't look it up, I swear
That shit is tattooed on my heart...

Dammit I realise I fucked up the literal one sentence that I wasn't meant to fuck up. "to be tested within limits as chosen", I thnk the end was

Is it time for a redemption arc?
Let's me and you talk a walk down the park
I can tell who's at the window without turning round
(different bells have different sounds)

Drummie Games, an annual tradition
Just keep the shades on, no one knows who I am
After a point stop explaining to Canadians
"Heavy Stone Throwing" is an actual event

I'm holding right til the end of the level
I'm holding this baby til her mammy returns
I'm "Holden Caulfield"? fuck you, am I fuck
I'm holding nothing, forget it, I fold

Still better than A Child's Christmas In Wales
That horse skull still haunts me in my sleep

Debate hitboxes with the scurvy kids
Try to not look impressed at the scorpion kicks
The Good Witch blessed me whilst I was lurking on the left wing
Pearly curl, but in return, never talk to those people again

"finish your thought" sounds more aggressive each time she says it
Each time an extra word gets an exclamation mark
I can take it, I know she's got my back
When the Nardise close in she's taping a torch to her shotgun

(metaphorically I mean)

"sounds unlikely" I said whilst smirking
The cops left but that one boy still lurking
Imma carve a swastika into his forehead
Then get off on mental incapacity

Or whatever...

First off: that's an exaggeration
Second off: it was entirely justified
Third off: ok, it wasn't an exaggeration, every word is true
Now I've said it out loud can you please remove the handcuffs?

Why are the neighbours contacting the other neighbours who contact My Mother when I'm away from my house for like four hours?
I mean, I know that particular wifey is a KIDNAPPER
The cat can sit outside, it's particulary clement wether
Flick a fag-end in her back garden as a sign I'm home

Day One (yeah I know say that every day)
My Mother owns no pearls to clutch
We play "The Xabi Song", it's not called that but we all in unison mutter his name over that other name
And when youse all leave I will raise a glass to his memory

But pour nothing out
C'mon, that's wasteful
Curtis just stumbled and acccidentally hit a certain piano chord
It was the sound of DOOM

Last one is called "Nothing Is On Fire", or "The Dangers Of Playing With Knives", or possibly just "Autism"

So I'm working on a new language, it's kinda latin based mixed with scandi but then transcribed phonetically by a computer, this is what we'll be speaking in the post-apocalyptic wasteland, imagine this coming to you from some RPG NPC:

Noonky partson ventry dakky
Dammy undro kwalky sommy si?
Yaya, "kee", canfar ulty zaza ney
Tosi "dungbanny" nen farfaran nenty

Ba septi mes darnar

Undre, drakko, trick, fan
tis sorly frakken de ney
Mik prolly mik bond
Kapshi, tempy venty?

(your clues are the the last line is "did you know, the storm is coming?" and you can see the counting to four line. Work from there)

This is tough going, trying to write poetry in a foreign language + still keep the flow + also establish new words as needed which must follow the etymological formula. Kansky = maybe. Framty = future. Cordy = remember. I've retranslated "undre" to "preem" as new details emerged. I've wrote 4 lines in 6 hours. I need like 8 more whiteboards and a gofundme.

Foory sol kansky nunky de foory
Voo framty mig, forfanny da hey
Jully preem, sunnerary por preemy
Neme cordy tally por "bank"

So I spent all morning trying to translate "numerical midfield superiority" and eventually came up with "siffry park vint", and now I've forgot why that was important. The other thing I got today is "dalto" means "sum", in case that comes up.

I eat poop for breakfast
I eat poop for lunch
and when it's time for dinner
on poop I munch
I love the texture
I love the crunch
and when I'm feeling fancy
I eat poop for brunch

what were you thinking
what were you drinking
when you signed
on that line

they appeared in your video
you name dropped them
on the radio
right on time

how can we trust you
seems that you will do
anything for
money

product placement
paid for your basement
rumpus room

Lying on the lino, 6:40am, I'm bringing sweaty back
You walk in the back door, look down and roll your eyes
YES I've been to bed, [rapid scan updown your body] unlike SOME
Yeah, sofa sounds good, there are cigarettes there

Stop your nipping, I had a heavy day
I touched three dogs on the head
And went in two different shops and zero freaked out
YES accompanied by "Her"

Also established the bigger eggs are laid by the rescued chickens
Squinted and Columboed that out

I wish you'd been there
Just so I could see your approving gaze
And the mildest of smirks

That's how I know you're proud of me

I walked in late for the drummer tryouts
Lit a fag, said "give me a mammydaddy"
He did it perfect, I said "you're hired!"
And went to scrounge up a drink

My hands don't work right, at least the destra doesn't
So it was always mammydamammyda
Which sounded fine, but was not what I wanted
We need someone with SKILLS

I never turned up for the PA interviews
Started drinking from stress, walked the hills from stress
But I precoached my preferred candidate
Smoke? Cats? Just say "yes"

But, like, with more enthusiasm

No, not that much enthusiasm

OK perfect

The Young One says I swear too much in front of children
I denied it, then with unintentionally comedic timing immediately shouted FUCK OFF FLY!
And stumbled, gesticulating wildly
Because some beastie was trying to investigate my inner ear

Oh yeah, I do recall barking WOULD YOUSE PAIR OF CUNTS PLEASE NOT!
When two flies landed on the Moscow Mule that I had painstakingly prepared for you
But I only swear at insects
And anyway, there were no children present then

Exhaled, went to wipe my shades on my shirt
Aw shit, I'm not wearing a shirt
Is there any way I can flex my way out of this?
Prolly naw

In fact, good point! Why am I not wearing a shirt?
I'm sure I was at some point
This heat... [turn towards sun, wipe brow dramatically]
Makes SAVAGES of us all...

HEY KIDS! Did you ride on the tractor?
Pronounce flykiller like it rhymes with Dracula
Pretend to know the difference between a Jaguar and a Jazzmaster
btw, the name of this band is IMMEDIATE VOID

Spurn the GUITAR children, sus chords are sus!
But minor chords are my old friend
Who I love but don't quite trust
Not to fuck me over in the end

Sorry for the swears, all youse Mammies & Grammies
I know you don't see me as Father Material
I'll just give a sly wink to those two Ladies
Whom I'm PRETTY SURE I fathered their children

Oh, this star, saying "REALLY STRONG"?
I stole it from that cheese stall
I think I merited it
Damn, I'm somewhat drunk...

Woke up on the sofa at Stupid O'Clock
Stumbled to bedroom, The Livingston boy snuggled into me
Never opened his eyes, just said I smelt of perfume
Yeah I do, he knows fine well why and fine well of who
He smacked his lips like a schizophrenic
Laid on his back with all limbs askew
I slept for like 2 hours
Woke up to LOWING, is there cattle in that field now?
Could do with a Caprisun
Who's gunna fetch it for me? No one
Get up as gently as possible
Still disturbed the cat and the kid
The feline ran to the kitchen, expecting breakfast
The human flipped on all fours, muscles tensed, ready to fight
He denied it later, but he DEFINITELY reached for a non-existent knife
I worry about him
But I know he worries about me more

There are many reasons against suicide
Like, the lives left behind that it ruins
having made no sense of it
it wasn’t our fault
many reasons not to do it
it was no one’s fault
we live with it
pushing the glass off of __
I’ve had that crazy feeling too

It gets so quiet
we don’t need to believe
because it already happened
we saw it together

I worry that I have forgotten the wrong things
but I am happy to forget so much of it
The scorekeepers lost track
How many steps until the next switchback
They’re already up there
I wave up and they don’t see me

Junkyard kids
Tripping mom on the restaurant porch
they’re going wild at Dodger stadium
no one wants to leave

Miranda July
asks where to find the bodies
making it through life

I thought why not me
knowing some of how to cope
after revivals

One becomes the sea
wearing down the thickest rope
all-encompassing

On thin lines of smoke
lifting above fingertips
reliably vanishing

Or going for broke
fully expecting hardship
quick hands stuffing coats

Sick of the clinic
Born apart from the wild
more or less alone

Life is no picnic
it is an angry child
with dry hungry lips

Now I feel riled
— stomach is sick, truth be told
two steps from a slip

Please stay a while.
Or go back out in the cold
funeral trial

Too young and too old
I asked for nothing but money
through the turnstiles

Oh, the last time we met?
The Pig Racing and the Ferret Roulette!
He can smirk all he wants
We both decreed it UNETHICAL

He's away for "a think"
I think you're meant to buy me a drink
I assured him we're not fucking
Though we occasionally touch thighflesh

I hadn't worked out who to hate
When he asked me to "collaborate"
Threw me off my heels when I was Going Through Stuff
"Just take what you need, I hope it's enough"
You're welcome

I need to go for a stroll
Try and track down that secret grove
Sit on that stump, prolly smoke, maybe cry
No particular reason why
Maybe die there?

Yeah you can enter, but she can't
Cus this is MY FUCKEN HOUSE, I KEEP IT PHARISEE FREE
Yeah I can parse further, but not til she takes THREE steps back
Cus it's also MY FUCKEN PATH

Don't mardyface, I'll stab that right off of you
Just cus you share the same daddy as me
And a former bedroom, just not THIS ONE
I remember your sobs while I was being abused

Also remember the last time (he) was round
You LITERALLY hid in the backyard
I made polite, for twothreenine seconds
Scored more Korean gear than you

You had the better hand that time
I think?
A socio wife
I maybe pick my life

You spied my cashcard, called me out by my government name
Yeah I go by my middle name, what of it?
My first name gets me punched in the head round here

My first name designates me as Catholic
I mean, I'm not, I grew up CoS
But went to Catholic school in a Catholic place

So my middle name is safer, but then obtusely
I wear my medals outside my shirt
So still get beaten, but at least I'm asking for it

I secretly appreciate it, it helps me focus

I need to focus
To clear up something
Somewhat easy to miss

Some would say troubling
In its insidiousness
Insular forms of reasoning

Insofar as it can be glimpsed
At all, the new calamity
Calling out to the senseless

Coalition of the willing
Fools we have known
Knowingly voting for cruelty

No one answering their phones
So some polls got unreliable
Unrelenting pessimism soaks to the bone

Unreadable offenses to thoughtful souls
found in the local paper’s op-ed sections
set aside for professional trolls

Suffice to say don’t read the comments
where the point is to keep the lies aflame
Afloat and unextinguished

A fly could feel more shame
Slipping in while the window is closing
Clinging to clothing and lacking a name

I Share My Bed with a Large Dog

After I’ve rumpled the sheets
wrestled and tossed and turned
After I’ve seen you shake in your dreams
and pulled you back from your apprehensions

After the deep breathing and chests heaving
stretching and whining and wide yawning snores
After the first sun shows on the ceiling
slips down the wall, the dresser, the floor

After your nose starts to sound like a whistle
I raise my phone to check in on the weather
After you have seen me move you feel better
Your brown eyes wide open and paw pads like leather

only after that —
and after the your sharp elbows rib my core —
only after all of that could we crawl out of bed

I’d stuff my pockets by the fistful
With stones known for nothing less
Than cleaning hearts out clear as crystal
Returning them new and baby fresh

I’d unclench my fists and feel a new absence
Tension loosened like overlong lasso
The sense of heaviness vacating the chest
Like long sustaining chords on a piano

I’d tear down the dust choked carpet curtains
Open the windows and let the cold thin air in
Take away all of this furniture, I don’t want it
Let this space take a full measure of its emptiness
Unadorned and full dimensioned
Strip the paint off, every last bit
Leave it to be whatever it is

version 2

I’d stuff my pockets by the fistful
With sharp stones notorious
for cleaning hearts out clear as crystal
Returning them new and baby fresh

I’d unclench my fists and note the absence
Of age old tension like an overlong lasso
Lying on the sand and dripping on the fence
The sense of heaviness vacating the chest
like hanging chords from a detuned piano

I’d tear down the dust soaked curtains
Open the windows and let the cold thin air in
Take away all of this furniture, it’s not needed
Let this space approximate its emptiness
Unadorned and full dimensioned
Strip the paint off, make it raw again
scraping straight through to the empty canvas
The underpainting shaping the form and the content
Unrelenting waves confusing and enchanting us

Drills and hammering and echoes and shivering
We left too loudly and came home whispering

rain as a noun, rain as a verb
rain on the soaked wings of a bird
rain on tin, as seen through a thin umbrella
on the cold lake
on the cold tent

rain in 4K, osaka at dawn
rain on the drought patched lawn
rain out the game which won’t be replayed
bouncing off plastic helmets
muddy puddles on hard clay

rain so i can evaporate
rain on the spot where he lays
rain like it has never fallen before
coming in under the door
pushing up against the floorboards

rain scatter our travel patterns
slippery green, serpentine
rain filling up the old ravine
up to the ankles deep, trembling
rain make us clean

rain unaccountably
overwhelming the systems of registry
overcome efforts to understand
rain and suddenly go, freeze on snow
overwhelm the world we don’t know

rain down in the catacombs
rain drip off our lips as we kiss
offend the dead and spirits unseen
we dance the dance of unforgiveness
rain on my suffering, rain on my last chance

rain until we are entranced
rain on your wedding day
break me up then steady my hand
cover my sidewalk, make me slip
peak through the door and see me sullen

keep going and going
scare off my daylight
give us a free carwash
cover it up, rain make it okay
rain keep falling, rain wash us away

I’m embarrassed by what I might do
If you would like me 2

Everything in me is now on sale for free
There is nearly nothing I would not rearrange
Without question, quite openly
Everything within may be removed or amended, without hesitation or prior permission

I held a grand reopening of my body
And it was poorly attended
I overheard them noting that there didn’t seem
To be a significant change in my construction

I hoped the ease with which I discarded my beliefs
Would be described charitably as adaptability
And was glad when it wasn’t part of the conversation

Would I disavow what I knew to be true
If you would like me 2

There is no coherence in the center
Of an oblong shape with a wavy perimeter
Unevenly balanced and laboring strangely
Like a pilot at night with a broken altimeter

So tell me what to do and I will change
I’ll preemptively meet you halfway
Repetitively, paradoxically
Until our atoms are just about touching

How I’d latch onto your line
If you would like me 2

The old bastard pretends
He can’t use his phone.

He holds it far away from his face, dramatically
Perches his glasses on the tip of his nose.

He objects to speed. Ethically. Aesthetically.
He doesn’t understand that speed is a form of simplicity,

Which is happiness.
He is a poet.

love that, treeship

at the speed we’re going
it’s hard to believe
that an hour has passed
long telephone poles
pass through our window
keeping unreliable time

i want to be full of wisdom
like eight toddlers in a line
holding onto a rope
on a sidewalk stroll
who don’t care where they’re going
and the teacher who is pulling

-

we’re both on the fish oil
mine fills a soft pill
yours pumps in uneven lumps
from the slippery bottle
I keep in the fridge
by the milk and the eggs

knowing our moment will arrive
and it can never be too late

in support of my mental wellbeing
whatever that means
and to help your muscles weaken
at a less rapid rate
we swallow fish oil

deep sleep under my feet
i’m wide awake, listening
to the dream of frisbee in the teeth
running back toward me

fuck man, stop doing this to me!

haha, uh oh! hope it's a good thing, or at least not a bad thing :)

Genuinely, you should talk to a publisher, or at least get them out there

oh, i feel very lucky to get to know a zine/poem/art/music crew recently. they make a zine where anyone can contribute, so i submitted something recently and usually read a few things out loud every month or two. i get to play new music for that same crowd too, and have joined a couple new bands, shows coming up, etc. it does make a world of a difference to know that when you're working on something new, there are people to share it with soon afterward. i haven't really had that outlet for a really long time so i'm holding onto it for dear life now :)

nice!!

my limo arrives with blown out back windows
covered by plastic and spattered by rain
driven by a man in a santa hat
whose beard is black and patchy with gray

when the wheels stop spinning I step right in
to a coniferous interior with Christmas tree scent
where thick vines grow in place of seat belts
and soft pine needles thread lines of indigo

his grin is crooked, his sunglasses tinted
the dusty dashboard is scorched and bent in
a disco ball jumps when the light turns green
and the bumper sticker on the crumpled trunk reads

may we meet again

we were flies in a beehive
carried by transparent wings flickering
and unheard in the swarm’s buzz storm
looking for an exit to the building

we were drawn into the mystery
by its qualities of ambiguity

these leaves aren’t dead
they found the ground and leapt
around toward new homes
on fallen trees along the riverbed

those were the days
when we cared less
about lost sleep because
our dreams were frequent and vivid
and the wakeful life loved and lived in

i see. the ac exhaust pushing the leaves
my broken toe walk tilting heavily
working down the shallow slope
like a slow drifting toward the deep
end of the pool past the last black stripes
undulating on the surface of the water
but still at the bottom, the lower the pressure

from here you can see the sun rise
now I’m on a pleasant streak
i may never go to sleep again

pay what you can for a diy
electro show in a basement

the upside-down singer bit
down on the mic and offered
noise stabs from their abdomen
ear plugs absorbed some of it
what did pass through was too true
to be heard in quiet rooms
but struck a chord in mosh pits

the smoke machine shook and pushed
waves of silver tipped clouds at us
the bruise-kneed crowd wanted more
heavy chains to whip at feet
standing still along the wall
boozy lips and rose-kissed cheeks
want for water, thirst for sweat

a horseshoe hangs over the front door
a traffic light over the restroom
a barrel with a checker board
sits in front of the fireplace

on mother’s day at cracker barrel
the parking lot is completely full
browsers crowd the old country store
and behold the forty dollar snow globe

our eyes scan the decor
the new menu features boozy drinks
third verse same as the first
chicken fried chicken
early online check-in
chicken fried chicken

it’s 11 am, the server has three stars
she asks about cream and sugar
as we play tabletop solitaire
I leave three pegs behind and i’m just plain dumb
hashbrown casserole for the breakfast side

home is where

the propane gas grill
still has the price tags on
string dangles from stainless steel
handles by a freshly cut lawn

roasted bell peppers flaking
on the cooking island station

chromium plating control knobs
porcelain enamel wire cooking grates
made to complement any outdoor space
the backyard, garden, or terrace
the balcony or the courtyard

the lights in my home
are bluetoothed to a phone
sometimes i move to turn them on
but minutes pass in darkness
and notifications keep me alone
as i do chores in bluish tones
from my sofa

the checklists fall into my bottomless pit
that’s not at all like the world we touch
more like the interior invisible thick

i switch my lights to red
and the effect to candle flicker
dimmed to thirty percent
the insides of my lids are fed
a prehistoric ambience

i never write poetry but had a thought today at work....

If I was a record,
you might notice some fraying at the corners,
minor ring wear, and
light surface scratches.

There might be a small split
at the center of my spine,
some spindle marks on the labels,
or foxing to the back panel.

I still play fine,
with mile surface noise,
but groove wear is becoming audible
at the end of each side.

"mild". but okay

must be that country magic when
a twist makes blinds open and the trees sway
like great masts tilting against sea waves
limbs and trunks alike bend with the wind
with flapping leaves of flickering sequins

https://i.imgur.com/JSWLpdF.jpg

we want to play
we’d rather not be apart
i don’t want to leave, i say
but it’s not my yard

it’s yours, wet nose pressed against the window
soft dog gray ears folded
in under their own weight
perfectly old, your favorite shows

i seem to have turned into a pumpkin
forgetting how to walk
beginning to crawl in the tall lawn

-

widening path lined with
dreams steamed in cool baths
don't leave don’t come back

see the chests holding breaths
waiting for the real forgiveness
from voices inside of their heads

it’s a long walk
the way they talk
and don't talk

-

i drove so badly the guy in
the car behind me said
what is wrong with America

-

butter soaked texas toast
lands on the pan
and starts to sizzle

garlic in oil, old water boils
a cup of hot tea
with honey drizzles

your hands are candles
aloft and soft
tapered and chiseled

your warmth melts me

real slow out the window
part-time barflies
do fine on bells and whistles

https://i.imgur.com/oRWoRcI.jpg

shovels in the
sky marine blue
bleed viridian green
on the treetop canopy

at a glance it’s broccoli

feed the thirsty vampire kid
popping wheelies in the backyard
hoping somebody is watching

the puddle waves are parting
as they swerve through to get the wheels wet
and leave tire tracks in the garden

riding pegs in the sunset
in a straight-leg kneelocked stance
matched by their fading silhouettes

tucked in shoelaces and rolled up pants
why hold onto anything
don’t forget to give it back

if I knew how to act
I’d sell a million books and a half

I read what you write instead

if i knew what was wrong
i’d make it right if i could

i wonder if i’m in over my head

hallelujah for the stars
thank you for being here
for being exactly who you are

thank you for making my cheeks go red

when he sang the dictionary
— bless his heart
it landed spot on
in parts of brain waves
that are hard to make much sense of
but still, lodged in there all the same

long after, the echoes of his words
bounced around in our thoughts
the high F to the low G
impressing us asynchronously
to the day of his performance
lulling and surging independently
of the original occurrence

my memory of it kept changing
until it no longer resembled his song
and i no longer believed what i thought

he might have sung the telephone book
the addresses, phone numbers, and zip codes
he would convert each line to a melody
and belt out the surname especially loudly

i believe he may have been the first
to sing the world book encyclopedia, 1997
just the last paragraphs of each entry
he told me but i no longer remember clearly

critical update:

~bless his heart

when he sang the dictionary
it burrowed into parts of neurons
that are hard to make much sense of
but still, lodged in there, spot on

i'm told he sang the telephone book
the addresses, phone numbers, and zip codes
converting each line to a melody
and belting out the surnames especially loudly

i believe he may have been the first
to sing the world book encyclopedia, 1997
only the last paragraph of each entry
he told me much more than i could ever
trust myself to accurately remember

long afterward, the echoes of his music
bounced around in our thoughts
the high F to the low G
impressing us asynchronously
to the day of his performance
tunefully lulling and surging independently
of the origins of their occurrence

the sounds in my memories kept changing
until they no longer resembled his song
and i no longer believed in what i thought
i'd heard so clearly

Reading in the morning
Reading at night
Reading old books
Reading new books
Reading on the bus
Reading on the train
Reading on the stairs
Reading

People
Wherever you go
People

still writing a bunch! here are some that i wrote a while back and still like:

i can play most songs
if you give me a minute
lumped in the tub
filled to the brim
watching the shows
stretching my toes
swirling the suds

here’s the life cord
wrapped to your wrist
it gives us the minute

here on the soft downy
lawn of the back of your head
we don’t check the weather
so much as stepping so lightly
shaking like an overwhelmed witness
speaking of growth of goodness
please come home now
and make your nest

when it’s warmest
we paint each other’s dreams

-

what is wrong
the words i chose
when is the show
don’t stay long

squinting in the parking lot
waiting on a shoe to drop

who are you
frozen august
ill and dogged
tried and true

torn up tickets at the gate
laminated student rates

don’t be mine
no good money
unbecoming
until the time

to arrive in the smoky glow
of unknowing unraveling

-

you had hardly knocked when I said come on in
wrap yourself up in my heavy blanket
it was a gift
we can share it

i lifted the fabric
up and over our heads
from the darkness we peered out
through crocheted stitches
in air which was warm and thick

we were furniture
for a long time it was like this

the leaves try to fly
for the first and last time

i like you as you are
sunset landing from afar
i like what you’ve run into
and how it changes

--

things i do now that i know you

i make sound effects when i walk
i keep my right foot planted and pivot around
i stretch my arms long to reach the ground
up coffee and when i pour it say “pew pew!”

https://i.imgur.com/lApSyFV.jpg

I think you’ve got about 10 poems there bro

i didn't even post the others! there were like 30 poems there

limbo is a container for time
where one waits for godot
and knows how low one can go
how long one can hold onto
a breath before it hurts in the chest
with pinprick moments of silence
hanging in the upper halves of windows
like potted plants watching gardens
glow in the twilight, wanting to know

https://i.imgur.com/1J4OtLS.gif

my elbow flicks the light switch
because my fingers and forearms
are covered with paint, i said
what a mess of a mixup
to overlay the mediums
the message is in the tedium
replay what you heard
and see how it’s different

from what came before
send me a postcard
you’re halfway to the end
then halfway to the end

I’m noticing more people smoking recently saw

footage of Joni Mitchell singing coyote backstage on the rolling thunder

tour and is there a correlation between the populace quitting and obesity

yeah, I'm a poem
(not a syllable wasted)
I convey meaning

Part-Time Rapper by Scott Seward

I rock rhymes.

Sometimes.

i woke up in the middle of the night the other night and thought that. and then i went back to sleep. thank you. thank you very much.

with the right beat, i think you just wrote your first #1 single!

under the fence
you crawl on all fours
the lock to open the gate
from the inside

i heard your stomach scrape
along blades of grass
split in half along the stems
lift the hinges
to let our friends in

we light soft candles reminiscent
of the end of a sunset
projected wide onto wrinkled fabric
pulled taut from clips in the corners

the double u is spoken
the double v is chiseled
w reflects the
soft m in the center of the back
yes, I’d like my heart back
x marks the spot I can wait
what time does the sun set
don’t let the dust get wet

new game plus
starts with all the items but none of the progress
or all of the progress but none of the items
or with everything you can remember
or with nothing at all

but a new body and internal clock
settling into a walking pace
might mean time might
sturdy the fall
fresh sets of rules will unfold
as peculiar rhythms that become your own

shaded blades next to
lit blades lit green
warm my toes
blue and yellow
hope I won’t bring my
giant foot in the sky
swinging down hard
to divide my yard into two
discrete zones
of careless trampling
of careful misunderstanding

he hit me hard
he felt bad
-hit me back
come on, get me back-
no, not now
not when you’re expecting it
wait until you’ve forgotten
when i finally hit back
we will both laugh

“
The old arm
Of a new love
“

God is a bouncer
Who keeps me out of bars
And pushes me home
When I’ve had too few

Put on a pair of pants
Put on one more
Put on another and you’re falling on the floor
You won’t get to the door
Put on another pair of pants

i’m so hungry
i could eat a horse
of course, of course not really
really i’m so hungry i could lick
kirk cameron’s perfect banana, sorry
how many licks does it take
to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop
i’m not 1 2 say
WHOOoooo 8 all the D, 3,
vitamin, gummies?
how i wanted it to be me
CaRUNCHing mr. ed bobbing for apples
on halloween

New crush is old crush

“His weakness was his fondness for intoxication, which had similarly fascinated primitive man”

If “I gotta cut you off” is something you’ve had said to you at the bar, and also you’re into Pina coladas

eventually
an old shoe will wear out
and be discarded

it isn't just the inevitability age

it was just tired
of feeling feet on top of it
All day
All night

it wasn't so bad when it was new
it was good to be useful
but its utility was its downfall
depleted until it was of no use to anybody
not even itself

*of age

we're deepening into May spring, and,
the sun stays out a little longer in the evenings
I consider you in all things as the warmth of the sun fades and the sky blooms neon oranges and pinks
I miss you
whoever you are now
where ever you are

sns if this is too " girly"

by the way - I am not into mentioning anyone specific but marvelous haiku and extended poems on this thread

by the way - I am not into mentioning anyone specific but marvelous haiku and extended poems on this thread

welcome stwahberry

hi. z
thank you. happy to be here

No one could ever crack the code
Of my new one

fibonacci zero one

one
dumb
son

taps drums
cracks toms
bread crumbs

glitter bombs
souvenirs
nothing’s wrong

nothing missing here
metal hooks hanging
plastic chandeliers

every time i look it’s changing
colors melting into one light
my neck’s warm and now it’s raining

this ceiling will disappear when the music is right
on time would be an odd way to start a performance
do sheep dream of electricity, the key, string, kite

sky was alive now it’s dormant
the bottom fell out of the air
from the green streams crawls the tortoise

to tell a tall tale
of golden ratios
and beach ball sized hail

hell windblown
closed drive thru
missed free throws

who knew
what when
did you

reach
the
end

I was just thinking about impermanence and how something/one is forever changing. we go through nfinite metamorphosis - all the time everywhere collectively, though not at the same frequencies is what I've come to

Searching for Sarah
Enhanced includes real
They’re not even days

When has there ever been something so lovely as you
In silhouette in the light
Coming in at 559

Omg that’s a horrible poem lol

Old actor, just starting out
Surprise placement
Bit part in Ghostbusters VI

Got my arm out on the windowsill at the bar
like a cars open window
Stationary rollin as people walk by

I have decided
that doing nothing
is better
than doing anything

I’d tell you why

but

So gone
So list
He is