Archive for August, 2013

August 31, 2013

Abandon Your Meaningless Job

After a tiresome toil, for two years I’ve slaved.

 

Becoming nothing,

Bow to a vacant audience from an unforgiving stage.

 

What an age.

 

What has been done?

What has been taken away?

What can be saved?

 

I leave today.

 

What’s in a name; passion, and work-a career and pay.

 

Walk away and don’t look back.

Grow to be sane.

 

I look up and forward happily.

Their only action is to react with dismay.

 

We prosper or perish in few ways:  move up, move on, and excel, or do nothing and stay.

August 30, 2013

My Contemporaries

My Contemporaries

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

Stolen stories about how I tell people I’m a writer.

I don’t, I’m not.

I just type a lot.

 

This took place at the VFW, this took place on social media, and this whole idea took place in my mind.

He said she said.

Of course I’m fine.

 

To my contemporaries,

You hardly write, you always talk, and what is there to do about it?

Nothing.

Your work exists in the rain like chalk.

 

Frame of mind, you are blind.

Idly wasting time, waste of time.

 

The only thing we have in common is proximity on a map.

You have released thoughts from their trap.

Your handshakes, salutations, and self-descriptions fall flat.

 

Is there more to you?

More to do?

We can only assume.

 

As long as you are around I know there is someone better fit for the job.

Making us all look good.

 

Cheers,

TS_

 

After Thought:

 

Facebook Famous,

Got it covered like a condom.

 

Not paying to publish.

Not wasting paper.

Not advertising falsities.

Not entertaining bullshit.

 

The only way to exist.

 

I just wrote all of this.

I haven’t spoken a single word.

Ain’t that a bitch?

 

Don’t believe everything you say, speak, read, or see.

Most people lie.

I formulate drafts when I sit.

 

***

How’d you get famous?

You know it’s not word of mouth when you’re speaking about yourself, right?

August 28, 2013

Dew Point (Part 2)

Around 80, with the dew point, similar to 100 and lost.

This is only for a few days, and we measure the cost.

 

There remains a great contrast, from shut-in at negative 20, to shut-in and very sunny.

 

All above and everything below have theirs to tow.

 

Weather, a well suited rival, for wherever we are we strive for survival.

We learn as we grow.

 

Some clutch drink, others clutch the Bible.

I am just preparing for the recital.

 

My glass remains sweating on the table, the fan blows hot air in, and I wear a smile.

Now, about the weather today…  Where do I begin?

 

August 27, 2013

Dew Point (Part 1)

Most won’t run in “normal” temps; I run best in advisories, while injured, after a cigarette.

 

***

 

Sweet putrid smells greet the nose, as it goes, in the air around this city.

 

Noon, as we steadily increase to terminal dew point, a midday jungle hell, all the populous feels and knows, pressures build as dead swell.

 

Praying a fast hour to follow.

 

An almost empty glass bottle, wood-corked, lay with remnant rose’ along the side of sweltering asphalt streets.

 

Bike frames lacking single tires, basement doors easily unlocked, the city is almost barren, inside to air-conditioning, and fans, people flock.

 

There are three places to find relief:  first, the library, second, the basement, and third, the beach.

Bring water and a small dirty sheet.

 

Sand, or leather chair-suit your fancy, free yourself of cares.

Less words, more discrete, fast on feet, on a mission, thoughts of cold sleep.

 

The only objective is to beat the heat.

Weather mental-disease; fight the condition, and remember to breathe.

 

Thoughts of comfort released.

 

Shirtless again, three showers later, and I still sit in wet.

It is too hot to feel defeat.

Times like these we forget.

August 21, 2013

When I am Gone/Blue Moon

When I am Gone,

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

When I am gone think of my face with bright eyes and a contagious smile-think for a while.

 

When I am gone know that I am still near the Mississippi River.  I am in each village, town, and city, respectively.  La Crescent, La Crosse, and Minneapolis-truly.

 

My thoughts will be more resilient than mortality.

 

When I am gone I am actually with you.

Don’t remember me for the things I did, but for the things I do-pleasant memories.

 

 

 

When I am gone you are actually with me too.

And when I am gone know that this is the beginning; we are not through.

 

When I am gone just know that I love you.

And when I am gone know that I know you love me too.

 

All comfort, it is true.

 

When I am gone make every enemy friend.

And when I am gone smile and make amends, because all your thoughts make you.

 

***

Blue Moon,

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

In the end, when we are all through-said and done, look up in the sky and remember the Moon is a Hologram.

Made by those on earth to feel better about being alone in the universe.

Don’t ask why

However, I am still with you.  So fear not.

Standing right by your side.

August 18, 2013

Crossing Nevada

We left that city aching in stitches.

 

As we drove-

No place to go.

 

We were together-

That’s all to know.

 

My side hurt, squinted eyes.

The car moved forward into the fading light, only drifting dust followed.

August 16, 2013

Stone Arch Bridge (Contemporary)

Massive stones stand in place holding her fantastic weight.

Lifetimes move under, across, and through.

At moments carrying even you.

 

An architectural feat orchestrated testament to time.

 

_______Bending the arched frame of our minds, as onlookers twist their lens… hearts, and eyes.

 

Close them, open them, the massive structure resides.

Dilate the pupils, constrict the camera’s convex sights. 

 

 

Like I said, The Stone Arch Bridge is a testament to time.

 

Minneapolis has her spanning both riversides.

 

 

And if you are on her and you drop something to what lies below, ka-plunk, the Mississippi will catch all you throw.

August 14, 2013

Dark Day Roast Coffee

There is a light hue of evening slipping on a warm window frame.

Always know the date.

 

Sometimes I forget my name.

Maybe it’s all on the surface of what’s in my cup.

 

***

More coffee than is necessarily helpful.

And there are words by the mouthful.

 

Watching the cool day beauty,

Wind blows right through me.

 

Advantageously lacking,

Practiced at grabbing,

And then gone.

 

Sing song.

 

Tune in out of cue.

POV.

 

Out to sea, only to see you.

August 11, 2013

End of Work Observation

End of Work Observation,

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

“When I’m not looking for anything I find everything.”

OTS_

 

***

 

Watched bugs fly; they flashed sparks white under the hot parking-lot lights.

Sitting in the A/C cooled yellowing dim-light dining space.

 

Sippin’ a beer with pork and nettles.

 

Ace in the hole,

No story to tell.

 

No drama foreseen about to unfold.

All is well.

 

Stacked silver on plates to be taken away.

 

Just watching distant wings hit, flutter, flap and sputter, fleeting dust as dark colors crept in.

 

 

 

 

Everyone’s like this and that…  I’m like, man, what the hell?  

August 11, 2013

Wooden Table

Wooden Table,

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

Wooden Table hold me stable,

Prop me up when I am down.

 

Make me able to talk of fables.

Help me drink until I drown.

 

Wooden Table you know me,

Console me when I frown.

 

Wooden Table help me,

If you are able,

I am lost, make me found.

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