Archive for September, 2013

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.



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.

September 24, 2013

Songs to the City (piece 1)

Songs to the City (piece 1)

By Terry Scott Niebeling


Not affording a blank page…

These are words on what I love and where I live.


Fall to autumn, a promise of frost and harvest.

We are all locked into our preoccupations in the largest.

Thoughts we offer and give.


Cold as a late September Sunday morning snow;

Water droplets consume me where I stand in a china-white bath naked and whole.

Coming and going, some are strangers some we know.


Our teachers tell us to live.


Smelling of filtered cigarettes burnt-out in hand, smelling like wet trash; smelling of first rate-first class.

Egos swell and expand.


Remnants of booze adorn sweet on my lips.

Care for a kiss?

It’s like rose petals-rose hips.


Faint sting of headache, we pray for a sudden solar eclipse.

An aspirin, coffee, and water diet won’t buck these nips.

Stuff like this only proves that we live.


We sit, what have we done?


The sun is up and has been.

So have I.

The day has just begun.


Where shall we travel  under blue skies?

September 23, 2013

Midday Theater

Open pages from an open book wave in an open breeze,
Taking on open looks.

As leaves atop trees.
Mind at ease.
Stand steady stiff knees-we need you.

Sounding gusts forbode of a chilling breeze, goose-bumps, as bodies jerked, shook and teased, a telling tale; reaction release.

Alive, a man stood watching in disbelief.
Out of the corner of my eye.

Poignant sum of a forgotten movie scene.

An apple as a weight would stop this play.

What have we here?
Theater Midday.

Amongst decades of culture, insects, thick green, and bright golden sun rays.
At the epicenter of vocation, progression, and ever changing minds, they, most, just walked by.

All unawares.

Cares as clouds in the sky.

September 19, 2013


I cannot summon the blank page to write for me.

To tell forth what I see.

I see therefore I tell:  


I see you, I see me.

I see us, I see we.


I see all is well.  


I see rain, I see trees.

I see an instant flee.

I see green.


I can’t see smells.  


I see people being discrete while dancing in dirty sheets, and such…

Cripples hobble on broken feet, and such.  

Lacking while we complain to beat, and such.  


I see numbers, … 


And they bemuse…


I think I see too much, 

Because I’ve become confused…



I see logic in the choice to choose.

I see a burning cigarette and an open bottle of booze.


I see, oh, wait…  never-mind, I forgot.  


I’ve seen a lot.  


All I see is proof.

Do you see too?

September 14, 2013

Walking Into the Dark

Facts on facts,

Drats on that.

A pox on your house-


Throw down your crest, peel medal from chest, and rest.


Living for contrast.

As in remembering not to forget.


All that stuff is just memory.

Mime to Jest.



The useless battle is over.

No more four-leaf clovers.

All there’s left is empty spaces and time for growing old complacent.


The day grows colder as the sun fades at your back.

Walking into the dark you realize relief is what you lack.


Turning a blind eye on everything which did nothing for you in so many ways.

End of Meaningless days.

End of the fray,


On to full.


Cupped like a fake heart in a fake hand, thought about in a fake head trying to fake not being jealous as we make fake demands-


On your first last date,

And then she ran.


What a shame.  There was so much to know.

So much growth to grow.

Don’t ya know?


Life takes time to understand.


And now who knows?


I don’t.


Walk on to something new, get a better view.

Life moves fast, so moan and move on.


Like they say, don’t look back.

September 9, 2013

Working The Desk 1001

Cool cubicle setting, a weathered view of present outside heat,


I never thought a job like this,

In a library I sit, comforted around so many resources-a relief.


(Not a soul to bark at me to move my feet.)


Making a stand at growing my wits.

In between now and accomplishment.


To date I check out and stack books.

To the next I watch for an approving look.


For what bar codes, laser scanners, and computer records exist.


Tomorrow I’ll be somewhere else, doing about the same, checking off a new and different list.

What a vast world there is.


I’d say, wow, things have changed.

And some stop at earning a career.




Life Lesson From a Lowly Twenty Something Year Old:

Just as you look down your attention is seized by that which makes you look up.


A friendly face makes a machine beep just behind my chair.

Logic explains not to care.

Any questions?


Balance the equation,

At present I feel I am getting more than I bargained for;

Pleasantly Surprised with all before my eyes,

Viewing situations from different angles to measure score.

Like always, and as before.


Sometimes  you need to know where you stand.


September 6, 2013

Deutsch 1001; Early Morning Lesson

Education via Poetry (Early Morning Lesson),

By Terry Scott Niebeling


Bright lights.

White Board.


Outside I stand with a cigarette blowing between hardly noticed and totally ignored.


Just words.

Eyes forward.


Earlier, fucking with coffee, toast, and what fruit I could afford.

Swatting flies on the side.


Stance in Preparation,

Not bored.




Struggling to stay awake.


Trying for high scores;

Sort of,

More so,

Looking to get this information absorbed.


Existing like a sponge is my new sport.




While most of these kids don’t even show up to class.


Thank you.

Thank god.

Danke schön.


Always look for more.  

September 4, 2013

College Girls/Nikki Fine Lookalike

Nikki Fine Lookalike/College Girls

By Terry Scott Niebeling



Possibilities without conclusions within reason, always.


Next to me in next to nothing, “Sorry about my mispronunciation, I am used to speaking French.”  Redhead from Ohio, Oh, Hi, oh…

Um…  Guten Tag!


Look, take account, not to stare.

All there, and something is missing.

Too early, am I dreaming?  Focus on the material, not what’s under it.


What kind of Yoga pants and mid-drift are in store for tomorrow?


I saw them skipping through the hallways as if no one was watching, their audience had no vacancy. 

No time for sauntering or talking. 

Walking past with an agenda, I was as the light beam that held me as people walked through it.


And they tell you to pay attention, as if you are obese at an all you can eat buffet.

Never today, I am spoken for in many ways.


Who did you want her to be, or how?

Was it true to your eyes?

Did your thoughts somehow allow?


One could take in tiny blond hairs just at the apex of her legs; thighs at rest, some under thread, some exposed to be what seemed like overhead-this vantage, a view from a seat, of her skirt.


Everyone in the class was too poetic; our professor was looking for something more literal.


(I thought, don’t take this argument to the streets.  I know a million people who are POETS, WRITERS, and AUTHORS.  THEY HAVE PUBLISHED BOOKS, you know?  They’ll tell you out loud to your face at introduction even before their passionate hand clasps yours for an initial handshake.

Trust me.  Go to any party in Uptown, Downtown, NE, fuck it, anywhere in Minneapolis, as proof.  You will see.)


Feet held below stubbled knees, in slip-ons sans socks, where thoughts get long, hard, and lost.


Bejeweled with bright rings and things-affixed shiny rocks, on silver-metal bands, held tight to each little finger, on her delicate little hands.  To her mouth, to the air, to her desk, they lingered, and then back again.


Is she Nikki Fine?  I don’t know.

That’s fine.

My mind playing tricks again, sitting in class.

I don’t mind.


We were talking Shakespeare as the time passed, Sonnet 18.



September 3, 2013

America The War Corporation; Syria

America, as a government entity, is a corporation for capitalism-considered as an individual-a person, with all of the civil rights and privileges we citizens have been afforded.

Then if this individual sits trillions of dollars in debt, why are they allowed to pursue wars in other lands?

Should they not fix what is at home?  Own up to what they owe, for the better of society as a whole, for the better of the land?

Abandoning the poor, hungry, and diseased here, as they increase military strikes and spending by the year.


Killing our sons, daughters, and sense of pride, all in time.


Logic, hope, and decency are lost.


Measure the cost.

….  However, but not by all,


We can think of ways to change, but unlike our country we won’t act in haste.


Patience we wait.


Not standing idly by as fighter jets tear through the skies.


With sharp eyes, and even sharper tongues.


On Labor Day we reflect, have those in charge been laborious, or just increasing the debt?


History is written for thinkers and historians, lest we forget.


Politicians seem to overlook the past.


This person is American Government.

Stop this person.


They overlook their acts as if it hasn’t been as tragic as the last.

America needs to move forward for America.