Posts tagged ‘Poetry For the Blind’

February 19, 2014

Finding Honey in Portland

She asked about organic honey

How much money

 

In Portland

Beforehand

 

I had a response:

 

On Twitter

Labeled winner

 

It came in small portions

Trivial facts and small conversation for dinner:

 

Days of our lives;

It’s flying a sign

It’s flipping dimes

It’s standing in line just waiting to be defined

 

It’s so rude I wouldn’t call it mine

Not on my life

 

It’s looking for a new problem

Not for what solves them

 

It is new material

It’s so ephemeral and ethereal

 

It’s so loud you couldn’t hear it though

Like your ears were blown

 

It’s probably right before you

It’s right after that, behind your back

 

Daily desk sit

Ingest shit

Fucks-given with a best wish and a fresh kiss

 

All about love and trust

I’ve got love and a few bucks

 

And the diversification of investments

In some aspects

 

We strive to exist

With which we now exit:

 

A plethora of abstract questions and lists

And thoughts of things we just missed.

February 17, 2014

Stop Now (Uptown Unidentified)

Re-shelve Successful

Doubt

 

Compromised

 

Fail

Small as a Whale

 

Pink Elephant

Stupid Intelligence

 

Smell the Permanent Marker

Average Car Parker

 

Pure Pollution Cloud

Truth Solution Crowd

 

A Tidy Mess

Tortured Unstressed

 

Hyper Rest

Atheist Blessed

 

Blue-Red

Alive-Dead

 

Zombie Nation

Smiling Frustration

 

Obvious, without traces

 

Synthetically Organic

Freeze-Dried Wet Pages

 

Going on for Ages;

Stop Now.

 

***

Uptown Unidentified:

 

New Trendy Clothes,

But the Act is Old

 

Speaking of what you’ve almost sold

As if you’re talking to a fool

 

Stepping with everyone- the everyday crowd,

I bet you make Art too.

February 15, 2014

Don’t make plans, make Progress

Blow a hundred hours on the internet
Think about the things we don’t have yet

However, I’m doing just fine with what I’ve got
When I take the time to look at belongings, I realize I’ve got a lot

Reality of what’s right in front of me
I could take the time to walk, but I’d rather flee

I’ve seen a few things in my life span
But I always account for what’s within the trash can

We can learn a lot about self from the books on our shelves
If we take the time to cherish what’s been spelt out

We can count the moments we save time for self
We can accept that as time for mental health

Alles tag
Alles tag

A new obstacle to climb

Alles tag
Alles tag

Another voice filled rhyme

Why sit inside and cry?
Or in the meantime, ask why?

Moments fly by
Then we realize

The good things in life fall from the sky
No one can surmise the actual surprise

***

Quit goddamn planning for things…
Don’t make plans, make progress.

January 3, 2014

Just Walking Around

Just walking around,

Just walking around I found…

 

Just walking around I found myself moving around.

I found myself leaving footprints on the ground.

I found the whole world spinning around before me.

Just walking around I found…

 

Just walking around I found I look up and I look down.

I found I look straight ahead and back round.

I found I see the sun and see the clouds above me.

Just walking around I found…

 

Just walking around I found on a cold winter day myself wondering becoming astray.

I found a missing glove and a fallen ashtray.

I found this all while walking around today, all these things about me.

Just walking around I found…

 

Just walking around I found different views of this big-small town.

I found the town fool and the town drunk walking around with a frown.

I found myself sad about this so I sat down.

I found enough energy to pick myself up from the ground, and everyone watched me.

 

Just walking around I found…

 

Just walking around I found that most people don’t like to walk around.

I found they would rather drive and look down, or complain about the other people in the car crowd.

I found that they hit ice and spun around.

I found that walking around was profound, at very least, for me.

 

Just walking around I found…

December 20, 2013

The Shortest Poem in the World…

Is this long.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
December 8, 2013

She (We Met Up Again Tonight)

In tight black jeans that fit me perfectly;

White pills distract with connect the dots.

 

Downtown pale steam-filled air hangs overhead;

Presently cold defines hot.

 

-3 PBR’s and 2 American Spirits später.

 

I wait for my girl to get back home.

 

Suddenly, standing patient at The Light Rail station:

-Seems like ages,

-So many changes.

Our ears and lips occupied our phones.

 

Sit seat to the airport in heat, up, afoot, breath absorbed, as I walk forward thru open doors all alone.

-One step at a time in leather boots brown.

-Hurriedly getting aboard.

 

Looking around, there’s not much for people tonight.

A Monday, a frigid display of days to come, an opposite glance of the summer moments we’ve come to love.

-Ubiquitous dim light.

 

This ding-ding-ding sound as the dated capsule closes, and lurches forward.

 

Exploring diverse sorts,

Touching tender sores to feel more,

Rich to poor-it matters not anymore.

-Much amore.

 

Thoughts race:

Will she be late?

Will she forget the date?

Has she run off to explore?

 

Peace to war,

Snooze to bore,

We meet open arms to embrace, a feel-good support.

 

-Playing with you, fair friend.

Momentary heavy thoughts fill my head.

 

People complain about the relationships they’re in.

That is because they are not really in one.

They have not the strength to come to terms and begin one.

 

Self-respect means being honest with oneself, truly-without a doubt.

An old math teacher once told me, “If it works, it’s gotta be right.” *

We met up again tonight.

 

*Mr. Limberg

November 14, 2013

Naked Bits

So many adjectives I get lost in the sentence.

Be plain, John.

Please.

 

Be straight up.

 

Or we have forgotten the original intention.

October 28, 2013

Blue Sky Float By

Guten Tag:

 

We spoke in intrusive sunlight of lacking shade.

We spoke of latter days.

We spoke anyway.

 

Yoga attire balanced high wire; elegance at foot, gracefully placed.

The looks that took.

 

Buses and bikes passed, and stopped, as cars drove on.

 

Dew covered leaves, bright colors scatter the green grass ground,

Only to break, crush, and turn brown, all spinning around.

 

When asked about this conversation I said I didn’t know.

There was no answer,

to no question.

 

Somethings just mentioned.

 

One can liken it to the blue sky; no sum, just something beautiful, an entity floating by.

 

Lessons we learn on the whim of a wave of attention.

Moving as fleeting dust from fluttering sparrow wingspan.

Trivial sorts affection.

 

A dram of logic,

Stop this human project.

 

As we walk and flow through others,

On separate paths,

We have but such a chance to interact.

 

The total might be intrigue indeed, ask and you shall see.

GERN.

Ich mag Diskussionnen.

October 15, 2013

Confusion at Best (Around Town)

Confusion at Best,

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

I send out the same message to everyone I know,

To no effect,

To be similar to you,

So you won’t forget.

I do this just as long as we can grow.

 

It takes place probably somewhere between Coffman Union and Marcy Holmes.

 

This act is redundant proof,

Enough thought to write tomes.

 

And the stuff we are all made of,

Like a warm place where we actually write poems.

 

This is like biking from Northeast to the Turf Club.

-Counting the stars above.

 

Hell Bent as Heaven Sent, stare on bold reader.

These pages are wet with regret and eager.

How we are:  pressing the buttons, blackening the pages, and living life so meager.

 

This is in the Downtown High-rises and next to the St. Anthony Main Theatre features.

 

I bet you don’t even know of the Multi-Verse yet.

But there are so many artists, poets, and musicians, how could you forget?

October 9, 2013

Faded Blue Means

Faded Blue Means,

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

Worn holes through my pants,

You can almost see my ass.

 

Rough life, late night;

Forgot to show, forgot the hours-who knows?

-Such plight.

 

Now we sit in old ragged pants,

Feeling like trash,

Yet mean, and lean,

-Semi-relaxed.

 

Things we know for a fact,

It’s time to clean up our act.

 

Again, what time is it?

I mean, I should be in math…

 

That seems right, right?  …

I don’t know, I’m off track.

-Moved to react.

And then I think,

My readers are my favorite authors.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 648 other followers