Posts tagged ‘U of M’

September 22, 2014

How To: King of Notecards

King of Notecards
Working so hard

Excessive paper;
Academic waivers

Obsessed with syllabus
And what’s killing us

Oh(!) true
So few

Read a book
Write a story-

Become moved… (episteme and glory)

Ruling Notecards to
See memory through

How about you?

September 3, 2014

Day One: Campus Type

Cigarette ashes hang like eyelashes

of campus distractions,

from broken hand sinewy seams

this be the death of me-

 

…  and some;

carless,

embarrassed,

 

No Feelings: numb.

 

American Literature and computer generated poetry; as art- good start to the semester, the sun is out in all its glory.

 

Covered in leather and bruises, she moves, tattooed, wounds fester, pimple-faced and searching for pleasure and adventure, no more mommy and daddy leisure.

 

It’s true.

 

Beautiful green lost confused, children adults on the move; me too,

How about you?

 

Choose.

 

Brilliant fulfillment,

United States we live in, lucid livid.

 

Self –surgery

type urgency.

 

Bearing my frown like a leaky raincoat in the center of this rainstorm,

maintaining a productive stance on consuming all there is to absorb.

 

Advice: Mornings are easier when you don’t drink every night,

but for what I’ve just seen I just might.

 

Educate me on this system.

Please, teach me now. 

January 9, 2014

Called a few times

Called a few times

Community college

 

How to get where I’m at

 

Tip of the hat

Small tip-relax.

 

Sun in turn a basement door window

Fall season I want a cigarette for some reason.

 

In between beating off and function

Where’s the discussion?

 

Apparently I have trust and money

How lovely.

 

We sit

Halfway through class seems longer than that.

 

I won’t get angry at my short comings

I believe in comeuppance.

 

Some things are just funny

Some things, I just love it.

November 4, 2013

Venice, Rialto, and The Spotted Sheep

Still as always, as in Shakespearean plays-

How they paint the human character so faithfully.

 

Sensed to endure;

Big nose to book.

 

Pure ears high better to hear,

Same eyes open to peer over there and very near.

 

Tragedy and Comedy, take a look.

 

What’s in between and unseen is unclear.

What little such questions afford, but fear.

 

Hold that thought,

Let’s not get lost.

 

(There is so much to see on a city pier)

 

These are just things in a book.

 

All that is lost is a pound of flesh, and thought.

If blood-let stop that crook, he does not know the cost!

October 18, 2013

Lab Text 101713 (Daily Prose)

Coffee as pretext to events.

Stay awake on this date.

 

Wasteful thinking; none such-

Linking the unlinkable…

 

Chained to changed up.

 

Drinking from a hot stained cup.

 

Holding posture proper.

 

Nothing but love.

 

Finding resources through resourcefulness.

Logic, commonsense,

Like twopence we forget when bent, but if we wait…

 

Here in this filled computer lab I sit.

 

Some day it could be too late. Trying the best I can to give a shit about making lists and the weather brisk. Someday it might change, or remain the same, with that the date won’t stay.

Time slips away anyway.

How will we know unless we take risks-not just exist.

 

Some find it practical while happy to complain. Defaced, deranged, disfigured, and feeling strange. Some, in the latter state can bring a smile to their face and chase away the rain.

 

Some have taste.

Some have dreams, they keep pace.

 

Some remain in the same place and pray, while others fill their briefcase with gold flakes.

 

Cold mornings, hot spells, what the hell? The difference is quantitative only to subjective measures. Pleasures of our endeavors. We think we are clever. Pressure. Presumably, we watch their eyes.

 

Small things: Pulling an acorn from a tree, taking photos of leaves at feet, then calling both ART-at the very least.

 

And then no one answers,

 

Forget it.

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 11, 2013

Alternative Transit

Alternative Transit,

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

How pleasant travel moves my eyes,

Through a wooded forest in SE Minneapolis to my surprise,

 

Sunshine in the day, some will hardly realize;

Sights we pass along this ride.

 

Past vacant Fair grounds with the brightest of blue skies.

A wise man once told me the secret to long life is about walking and using your mind.

 

A transit I had not thought possible, now I go too.

How do you get around, I have to ask you.

 

As many take their personal independent gas-guzzling wagons, others, > take a more proactive approach.

 

I hear people say,

“I can’t,

I won’t,

It’s impossible,

I just don’t.”

These minor things, inconveniences they call obstacles.

Look at me; I am sure it’s untrue-this is plausible.

 

They ride day to day, every place, here and there, every which way.

All helter-skelter, running from the weather for shelter,

It kind of adds excitement to your day.

This adds greater perspective, by adding a different way.

 

Bike, walk, run, wander, hike, bus, or taxi today.

 

So much of the city is hidden from the safe and possessive view of your four-wheeled all going vehicle.

Most won’t welcome change,

Even if it is just a little.

 

 

October 8, 2013

Play Actors

Play Actors,

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

Scattered passage,

Recurrent transaction of passion-I love you, and action.

All added, all adjuncts, disheveled and defunct, but we manage.

 

Smile so much my face hurts.

Smile so much we lose shirts.

Smile so much we forgot the play is tragic.

Smile so much at the Antics.

 

A real tragedy, are we?

These are just words.

They live; they are heard.

 

Disappearing plight like magic,

And off with their heads.

 

 

Acting like the center of the discussion is the center of my mind, eyes wondering outside.

(Trust me, your laptop won’t make that thing beep, that’s a myth.  Care to try?)

Oh! And all that’s been said and read.

October 7, 2013

Average Sam American

Average Sam American

 

We take what they have,

We grab what they grab,

Cuts covered salve,

We maintain by avoiding the drab of the average Sam.

 

-OTS

September 30, 2013

New Distant Friend (For Anarae Schunk)

New Distant Friend (For Anarae Schunk),

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

Where does this take place?

Here and now.

 

Long-faced,

I can no longer write so freely somehow.

 

If we were to stand we would pace,

And count the past before the Fall.

 

Look down, look around.

No real answers.

 

My penmanship has taken a drastically sharp turn; what was once long loops and squiggly lines, is staccato, rigid, and terse.

 

Our friendship has reached its earthly end, and for the worse.

We had nothing for to make amends.

Nothing but smiles-no hurt.

 

Not on our accord.

Not on the time we could afford.

Not on the command of the lord,

But some will persuade.

 

One can no longer relax on facts.

A person has passed, this is no act.

…Serious as a heart-attack.

 

When the curtains close what happened was lucid transpose.

All is done is exact.

I see your face on the covers at the news rack.

 

Life happens, we can’t go back.

 

Clearly and plainly, let those you love know, for when they go they go.

And after that there is little but time to react and think upon chance.

 

Death is not very intuitive.

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