Posts tagged ‘Story’

July 21, 2015

Transformative Tea (Ireland Abroad)

Change,
like switching drinks,
not from one hand to another,
but the beverage entirely.

Finding a new drink…

How could one come so set in their ways
that they don’t find the nerve to change?

Standing there, waiting,
watching the water boil,
face turned red,
ego on high alert—ready?

This sergeant don’t take no lip,
unless it’s yours,
and he will eat the entire thing…

And those herbs will turn to taste,
and you can bet your ass on it.

There is no need for filter or mug,
no need for a full pot or the caffeine shakes,
just one cup to get me by.

Life in moderation, and we fumble at the keys.

And it was pure fate,
the Irish black tea beckoned
as if to take me back—

far away, into distant lands,
as if I missed Dublin
and the 5th floor flat at Staycity.

I could see most of The Liberties
from the number 43 balcony—

on walks aside double-decker buses,
smooth euros in my pockets,
along the river Liffey.

And everyone watched as we drank whiskey
and fresh Guinness, and read books,
and they pronounced three as “tree”,
and we were slagged as “yanks”.

As we sat on cross-country excursions
thru endless rolling green hills
and stone walls and winding roads
and puffy sheep.

As we saw things some of us hadn’t seen before,
with a drink in hand and our feet on the ground.

And I sip.
Now.
And I recall.
Then.

It will be awhile before I get back around.
But it was good to try something new.

April 4, 2015

Easter Poem

The Easter Bunny
died,

and three days later
he rose again…

with a bunch
of

fucking candy.

March 29, 2015

Here.

The man who could
teleport as far
as his eyes could see
remained trapped
in a room full of mirrors.

January 1, 2015

Glendalough

Green and wet had been placed on everything;
Grass and Celtic crosses thru a cemetery-
There stood: a tower, a kitchen, and the first lady-
This little storied countryside we were in.

December 18, 2014

I’ll Call in Sick for You*

Are you at work?
Are you really sick?
If it is so,
I’ll help you with this.

You don’t feel well,
You feel pretty bad,
I’ll call your business,
The results are back.

May I speak to the boss?
Is ______ in right now?!
Well, let me tell you
They must leave town.

It doesn’t look good,
They’ve tested absolutely sick.
I’m Doctor Terry,
I’ll attest to this.

They should be released,
Purpose: to get better;
Especially in this perfect,
Warm, sunny weather.

Telling it to them straight,
So you can leave work-
It’s worth it to go,
Get from life its full worth.

Trapped in a cubicle walls seeming beautiful;
The wonders are outside, if the truth be told.

*For AKA.

December 16, 2014

Marley’s Dance

Foggy covetous invalids,
leant on glistening balustrades,
with gossamer hangings; bent
blades of grass, enacting a fool’s
calypso in cover of darkness, at
that exact moment, for all gleaming
eyes to witness, as winds stirred
through an open door below.

November 28, 2014

Every Story has a Companion

It’s really easy
To look at one side of a story,
And to be affected
By just that one side.

But what I’ve found throughout the years,
Hours of thought,
Hard-work,
And beers-

Is that more often than not, that one side of the story is not alone.

Words and interpretation are never the exact
Same,
Objective,
Way.

Except for apparently in America,
In August, last week, right now, and today.

July 8, 2014

Triple Double

we used to go to The Triple Rock on Tuesdays- every Tuesday;

they had 2-4-1’s:
two drinks for the price of one- natürlich,

we would stay late, dancing and sweating, and trying to get laid…

it was a spectacular spectacle, an idea with appeal; drink one-self half-silly,
amongst those of a similar age demographic,
-get lucky,
then attempt to maneuver treacherous city streets
on bike, in cars or cabs,
home.

the whole thing ended rather abruptly when a few kids couldn’t handle their liquor, words, and fists.

a fight broke out into the street,
under cigarette smoke, dim streetlamps, smell of stale beer in the air,
and the big kibosh was put on the entire coveted evening, the whole event was OVER.

the deal had turned into somewhat of a deal-breaker, and this was way before the wounds of those street-fighting kids  had healed;

egos and all.

so, what two things did we learn here?
if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is, and nothing lasts forever.

May 3, 2014

Performance Art near Bryant-Lake Bowl

Jägermeister and biers
Then kicked out to the street
We were there for a bit
Then we had to leave

Flew round at sun-down
In scintillated light
Flew down for the evening
I was riding my bike

On Portland Ave.
They exclaim
They might see me

On Portland Ave.
I came
Wheels beneath me

Oh the drunk bastard is dry
Give him his rye
Oh that fucker; mean guy
Let sleeping dogs lie

He is less than me;
His reality is obscene
He is not next to me
He is underneath

Oh, Oh, Oh, and so on…

–No description at all,
None to recall
Was he fat or fit?
Was he thick-haired or bald?

Who judges this person?
Who judges discretely- who calls?
What you see with your eyes
Is described differently by us all

What company we keep
What of those we meet
Was it a pleasant surprise?
Or a disappointment in the least-

Again I sit with local celebrities
I have to ask pressing questions
Are names just minor discrepancies?
Are they darlings for our attention?

Goodbye Auf Wiedersehen
On to new situations
On the street forward making
On to splendid occasions

To Bryant-Lake Bowl
In a car we drove
For a stroll, for a go
Exposing deeply our souls

In reddened pale light
A girl died one night
This scene of present sight:
Some mixed up fight

Blurred pictures remain
No date and no name
Was a crying shame
We drank that day

Now we look
Broken on the curb
A collapsed man
Drunk and absurd

Too blind to stand tall
Not at all looking proud
He had something to say
Thick mumbling aloud

We walked towards and down
His adversaries stood over
We watched stepping around
While still moving closer

Blood on the street;
He on the ground
Level with feet
He made a pitiful sound

A bald man in cahoots
Was reciting him his lesson
2 men were to explain
Their benign intentions

Questions of: “Did you strike him first?”
What’s the story?
“Have you done cocaine tonight?”
Boy! Don’t you ignore me!

He was obviously not sober
After a few inspections
Words weren’t coming out right
Aphasia for reflection

They stood at the door; shoulder to shoulder
He: a sad pile of bones in a suit sat
Looking younger rather than older
We 3 strolled along light hitting as we passed

Waiting for a taxi cab
The 2 guys had to explain
One of them shouted,
“He said he had AIDS!”

“He blew blood our way!”
There he lay in subdued shock and dismay
He could not get up
So there he would stay

Now no one touched him
Confused little looks
They went about their business
Scot-free lucky crooks

Moved by this art
The blood drops dark red
Spread thick while inches apart
Trail of liquid which lead

A few more steps
And we were at the door
We took our seats
After chair legs screeched the floor

In most of my glory
Contemplation of sport
Of what we had seen
I was staring straight, completely absorbed

How did I get here again?
And what the fuck just happened?
:
Man in his stasis; we’ve likely had these days
It’s 20/20 vision to talk of others in such ways.
;
I don’t know what you do,
And I don’t care
.
That’s where I was,
I was there.

March 11, 2014

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead Dead

Full shoes rock smuggler

In the basement before dirt

Hopscotch walk muddler

Parted smirk with mirth

 

In a place with no character

We (they) find a shiny coin

 

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern

Are insignificant to a point

 

No spokes in the wheel; full circle

Disdain, now, no wound to ‘oint

 

The Players show empathy to Ros and Guil, no disjoint ;

they are also at the mercy of the elements i.e. Hamlet

They desperately avoid blunder and blood red moist

However they can’t undo fate with any willed choice

 

Lifestyle of livelihood

Real-life social effect

In that case I’m dead

Fractionally:  Yes

 

They’ve been gone this whole time

stuck with inquistion in purgatory

They relive this act on track

This fact amends the story

 

We see it in un-, sub-, and supernatural forces:

They are caught in between.

 

Heads

Heads

Heads

Heads

And so on…

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