Posts tagged ‘POV’

November 22, 2014

Comely Civilian

Sipping hot Chai Tea,
When bitter came sweet.
Numbers change degrees,
Perspective saw discreet.

Early time of day,
We met along the way.
Present here now sit,
A life made of odd bits.

Notice slight turn of head
Sparking bulbs in the mind;
Wait, watch, and reflect,
Faint to smell of Dandelion.

Supple as shone flesh,
One acknowledges dewed must,
Affective thoughts to pass,
Words spoke, open mouth trust.

Salacious centerfold,
Touching each endpoint nerve,
Appointing minor tasks-
Let eager subjects be served.

Sit perked straight up,
Lace bound tight round back;
Pictures opened doors,
Imagined forms one retracts.

That fiend- the mind, moves fancy to bust.
That fiend- the thought: human nature of lust.

November 2, 2014

* I DO DECLARE

Wear make-up and carry mace;
-Mixed ideology, mixed taste.
Running all over this place,
Collecting strewn waste.

Prey within the Rat Race.
Prey within the Rat Race.

*
I saw you sitting there,
I do declare.

May 10, 2014

Point of Life

Life is what you make of it,

so make it full of joy–

 

Otherwise,

 

Fuck it–

What’s the point.

April 22, 2014

Worn Soles (How to tell a Major)

Shoes lined the step
No faces to connect
Worn Chuck’s symbolize fun
Mindset symbolized by dress

Who owns them in person?
Who unties them at rest?
Who wears them out walking?
Who sits them snug under desk?

A mile in shoes and you’ll know any old fool
One’s on life’s route just running through
Jumping foils and flows constant as they go
Rubber soles smoothed stories traveled true

The ebb and flow goes under toe
The times that move ever slow
We walk on fast, and move on past
Our shoes just follow below.

One can always tell a shoe by the wearer
One can tell a major by Chuck Taylor’s (English).

April 21, 2014

Beautiful Faults

I can read the scar on his face

Outline grooved

Intensely indented

Somewhat shadowed

Speaking volumes

 

I can read the scar on his face

It’s not a conjured statement, it just is

 

Facing out,

It exists on just that

 

It will never leave him,

It will be there tomorrow when I look back

March 10, 2014

(Now) The Land of 10,000,000 Lakes/ Relatively Obscure

(Now) The Land of 10,000,000 Lakes

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

Relatively Obscure;

But Only Now,

This year

 

(Must’ve been the Weather)

 

Thoughts at present

Winter resentment

 

(Had to’ve been a Tasteless Pleasure)

 

Summertime

And

Rhymed lines

 

Blank verse

And

Mini-skirts

 

Beer on a deck

And

Sunburns that hurt

 

Been stuck-inside-life

And

There’s nothing worse

 

Darkest before the light

And

Patience makes all the worth

 

(Blinded by the light-eyesight)

 

Times in the Midwest

With the new season we’ll wear less for dress:

 

Abandon bundles…

Step through Puddles…

 

Avoid Potholes and Passive Aggressive Mumbles.

 

We still (always) look forward to the warm days ahead,

Sunlight makes it easier to leave the bed.  

March 5, 2014

The Death of Ruby Red

I cut her deep, was a small feat

Her pink shown light orange mingled red flesh

 

I peeled her skin exposed her meat

Her, beautiful orb-cracked, torn, limp, was dead

 

Her innards spray juice-sluiced, hot heat

Her life, close to expire, was in threat

 

This grapefruit I eat

Fact–

I express no regret.

February 24, 2014

Just One Person

Front and Center,

Grotesque Smile walking out and towards me, those thoughts in my head.  Nearing Walter, thinking of Lind, walking to Magrath, the evening begins.  I saw and registered just this one person

I was:

Front of the class with Scott Stapp.  The lead singer of Creed, and I, and we stand.  AKA a TA.  This is life at the bus stop waiting in the cold, thinking of thoughts old.  Bold people wearing exposed flesh standing apart.  Ice crusted sidewalk, I look across the street to see a mirror; people just like me.  The worst song on my iPod, shuffles in my ears-God.

I come to.

Probing my audience:  making an obvious point (to some).  Those who aren’t dumb, at least, some.  Thumbs down, this is me, this is how I believe.  Aught’ to be, Show you how I see.  A “U” and “X”- unstressed and stressed-not a stretch.  Not far off, lines and rhymes aloft.  FACT.

We make a somewhat apprehensive white board dance in tight pants.  Look at the sad crowd, relax.

Scansion of poetry: iambic, prosody, diction, expansion; an explanation of situations, objective subjection, an aggressive reaction, which could lay wastage.  Justified.  I fold at the masses, scoff at this interaction.  I feel defeated, but undamaged.  I feel this comedy is tragic.

That’s just Shakespeare talking though.  He might have been one person.

Someone yells from the back of the class, “You are just one person!”  I am apparently one person… Can you believe that?  I can’t.

Then I thought about it-

Other examples of “just one person”:

The President

God

You

Me

Everyone-

You see?

 

Get it?  Said just one person.

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.

February 10, 2014

Mental Morning (Me Post-Structuralism)

A bunch of facts and a boom

I’m scattered across the floor

Quick! Run-            

Grab the broom:

Me Post-Structuralism

 

***

I lost my shit over breakfast this morning

The weather made me do it

 

Not the hangover

Or Clover

 

Oh, brother

No other lover

 

Apology of Autonomy

Soft as applesauce

 

Sometimes we make choices

Sometimes we get lost…

 

Raised red streaks down pale face shimmering

Of reckoning; today is the coldest day

One of those

‘Til tomorrow

Then we have to change yesterday’s name

 

Cold, sick, and hollow

Deep tracks we’ve followed

 

Cuddle long always

Wallow until warm stays

 

Over coffee, blank verse, and burnt toast

This one goes out to the one I love the most

 

I apologize profusely

To put it truthfully

 

Frigid weather courses through me

Computer screen’s bluey

 

Let’s make a hibernate date

I’ll change around Mid-May

 

Promise_

-Out-

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