Posts tagged ‘usa’

September 20, 2014

Situation ( how I talk ): drinks after class

Situations ( how I talk ): drinks after class

So,
I’m at a convenient store on West Bank
Dust blowing in the wind
on a partially torn up sidewalk,
At a convenient store on West Bank

Right?
That’s where-
Okay,

So,
I’m in line to get cigarettes,
With a friend,
And my contact falls to the floor
Blurry and shit,

-This pain.

I can’t see…
It’s on the ground,
Patting my shirt, do you see?

I gleam the phosphorescence of it in the dim florescent light,
On the dirty floor,
What those had tracked in,
Just before.

You know,
I pick it up.

Ali’s behind the counter selling cigarettes
Big bright smile
Looks at me

Hey, do you have any…

He doesn’t have solution;
But he can help,
Standing there, palming the lens

I tell him to give me some Visine

I unbox it
Reluctantly-
I pop the top
With the ease of expertise

Sit at a table
Some people are eating,
Watching,
They get up and leave

I’m putting my eyeballs in.

Wetted the crumby table,
then I could see.

I wiped up what I had spilt.
And put the bottle in my bag to leave.

Thank you sir rang aloud as bells on the door-

Happily no longer in discomfort,
Then I walked across the street to Palmer’s.

September 19, 2014

Lovely Location

i love where i’m at
a dog licks paws in back
a chair below offers comfort, my seat
i am moderately relaxed

i love where i’m at
no one tells me what to do
no one yells at me or you
non-profit is the bottom line;
i can see my day through

i love where i’m at
most days same old act
used to be tired of my situation
now it’s-
computer’s buzz as people chat

i love where i’m at
days of coffee cream and stacks
reading books in the moment, as in now-
Auf Wiedersehen til i get back

i love where i’m at
didn’t get here in a day
struggled through shit people played
don’t have too much to say
i will tell you on the way:

i love where i’m at.
i love where i’m at.

Where are you?

September 14, 2014

Money Does Not Matter (Lavish Habit)

A weekend’s worth of cigarette smoke.

In lungs as it was,

Now

An empty yellow pack
on a cluttered coffee table;
an Indigenous effigy affixed on the front,
laying creased and crushed.

Then:

Dirty caked pealing fingers
Hangnail cuts a cloth uneven
Expensive wines stained flesh
Blood let late this summer that went

I spent two weeks in one night…

On:

Raw Oysters,
sitting next
to
translucent green Seaweed
whole and Uncooked Quail Eggs
there they lay
bei
pinked cuts
of Expensive Fish.

Let’s not forget the numerous rounds of cloudy white sake.

Champagne flow pained frontal lobe.
Nights let grow, as days let wane.
Through campus- through school,
on legs that bend- shooting pain.

Feeling as crumpled paper; trashed.
Sprawled across the lawn in the grass,
People playing games as I move past,
A backpack fully packed, on back.

When: all of sudden preparation for another week began.

And I have to leave it at that.
Money does not matter.

September 13, 2014

Ruled by Cats

Dust management,

scoop,

Lid removed;

Stench to prove-

Ammonia and hardened poop.

This moment,

What it is.

No king cleans out cat shit.

In the air hangs

remnants of digested remains.

Eyes pained

Hands to rearrange

Next to the toilet stool

What a silly fool

To be a cat;

To actually rule.

September 12, 2014

Testing Salt

Waking each day to test my resolve

Walking around with patience

Living through the storm and calm

Resisting tumultuous agents

September 10, 2014

Restless Weather

Dark clouds formed the sky as wind touched my face
My dead and gone ancestors have done this to me
Taking it in together, we stand tall hands linked
Expressionless, our emotion takes hold, carried-
Art appeared on the flesh; red lines raised
Trusting paths we’ve taken, as the towers climb
Reflecting the river waters as the seasons change
Showers reigned in testing the land, the crop, the life
High up a bulb flashes near birds so lofty fly
Inclement weather of remembrance, the rain
Drenched thru flesh, soulfully feeling inward pain
Eyes scan and absorb, what now, what more, what remains
Strength enough not to collapse, feels appropriate,
Apropos no more, prompt forecast coming belated,
Arousal of the air currents, moved, we were but shaken.

September 9, 2014

Fall 2014

Fall comes just as our sneakers have worn in
Our bike seats touch familiar under buttocks
Dying grass and flowers thin; bend in the wind,
Tree’s leaves affect intensely displayed colors.
Pools close and drain, with new frost to blame.
Mothers count their wandering curious young.
A yellowing sun grows faint, shadowing its loss.
Fathers light expensive brown cigars for fun.
Dogs and cats play-excited, loud and rowdy,
Leaves and debris blow thru them in the yard.
Cold holidays come nearer, passing yet again,
Each year grows tired, cold, aloof, and hard.
On destiny we wait; fleeting speed of time,
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter yet again align.

September 5, 2014

What of Water?

Each morning
bells ring.

Tired hands
clasp and twist knobs.
Fingers fondling
fidget on dials.
Bolt upright
sharp angles in bed.

Legs swing round
to touch wooden floors.

Stand walking to alabaster bathroom door.

Drawing curtains,
transparent.

Naked and drowsy,
there is nothing left to hide.
Flood of water
on the rise.
Switch to nozzle,
step inside
A slippery wet tub.
Lather. Rinse. Dry.

We are washing in that same water that alludes the thirsty.
Out of the many problems we make, what could the worst be?

I came out clean, save for conscious.

September 2, 2014

An Ode to This Is Just To Say

I have drunk
the beers
that were in
the fridge

and which
you were definitely
saving
for Sunday

Forgive me
they were refreshing
so strong
and so cold

***
in homage of, and inspired by: This Is Just To Say, William Carlos Williams, 1883 – 1963

August 29, 2014

Minneapolis, The Production.

Filched every best part of art,
of everything.
Singing in the rain
as if a poignant destiny.

Blessings of death
and the mounting of enemies,
over the stone arch bridge
on two rims,
bubbles and scum,
Mississippi muddy brown waters below.

Then we eat, sleep, drink, and move on.

Tattoos and body piercings
Ostentatious Restaurants.
Underground Hip-Hop
and Poetry- the life, so long…

A million extras with a million extra lines; you see the conundrum.
Oh, the Cheeky Bastard.

A problem with me,
probably-
Attitude,
something rude.

Perhaps.

Transcendentalists and progressives, pass aggressive.
Just listen to those intellectuals. (How Special)

Bowel movements
have caused more pain
with more tact and significance,
more movement,
and,
yet, who knows the difference?

Faces are wearing half-hearted pleas of forgiveness, wholly realistic.
– Yellow toothed Grimace.

- Some greyed with fluoride.

- Dentists to witness.

On a real morning
in the real rain
with real useless thoughts,
another really real day.

Overcast above skinny jeans,
mind over matter,
beer filled bladder.

-What we’ve gained.
Promising to keep promises
Walking home just to kick dirt
Flat-tire again- spare me your words.

Unable to afford trivial debate; I stand at a deficit.

Nicollet downtown slicked squares
cut from somwheres- elsewheres.

Reading books to stay relevant;
vintage classics, or course,
Conversations alone,
clean-cut brilliance, absurd.

Excuse me Mr. Artist, can you paint a picture?
Anytime.
Can you write a song?
Any tune, with any rhyme.
Can you sell millions upon millions?
Hopes and dreams, divine.
Can you deal with the adoring throngs- fanfare, that is…

Kids beat drums on the streets,
attempt at viral video,
as the beggar creates a compelling story (wife, child, car, broken, needs, hospital)
Let me give a little-

I spend time at the liquor store too.

Questions: Do I invest in this practice?
Or do I keep ignoring?
Investigate the occasion,
I mean, I guess, I live in poverty too…

No snow on the sidewalk,
just shoes.
Heat index and sweat,
rugged, as it proves.

No ice- or melting with salt under foot,
hanging cigarette ash on stiff upper lip.

Pedestrians that give real looks
External cost magazine crooks.

Signs in downtown read: affluence, success, money.
Neon lights of red, yellow, green, blue and orange,
They sparkle and shimmer in cold and warm,
even in the daylight morn, bikers, buses, taxis, sparkle adorn.

Then the director yells: CUT!!!
And the lights go dim on the set of Minneapolis.

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