Archive for November, 2016

November 29, 2016

society’s function

on my toilet
i think of
all the crap
i might face
today–
could wipe
it away
and flush it,
so hopefully
my function
doesn’t
plug up
your high
society

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November 26, 2016

Powerball: my American dream  

My American dream is relatively easy. Like the rest of America who worries about making rent this month–next year’s rise of it, tattered old clothes, shoes with holes and Christmas presents to buy with a dwindling bank account on Black Friday. It’s a piece of paper. The purchase of a Powerball ticket expands my mind, helps me smile, it lights my brain’s canvass with foreign travel, warm heat throughout the apartment–no freezing in the kitchen concerned about our bills; takes me on constant stays abroad: Dublin, Amsterdam, Frankfurt, Galway et al.; pays the family debt and helps me save for my posterity’s posterity. My easy American dream. And then on Saturday night my numbers aren’t drawn–very close, yes, about five off, you can relate.  And I take it down a peg again and think 30-40 years then retirement, toilsome broken hands now and student debt payments. Also, poets make no money unless their publication has excellent grant writers, fund raising events, and more friends with deeper pockets. And they better like your stuff and agree too, or you with them; write about justice, identity, and politics, fuck flowers, fauna, and the outside–these things you may see. No one cares about that shit or muse lottery tickets. Vice grips for positive thought. My American dream is easy, just waking up to it tho. My American dream is a hope and a piece of paper. Or I must get out of this bed and make something happen for myself. 

November 25, 2016

Black Friday and The Cost

Black Friday, a day we would
get up with or without work,
spend what we don’t have on things
we don’t need; get there first
even for violence to get the
goods to rest under whatever
broken dead tree. The American dream.
I never thought it would matter, but
when they go it does; all that
wrapping, that paper, that pomp,
and the one to give it to is gone.
More time with those you love around you,
hang your shopping shoes up.
More time, more time and joy.
The cost is not sold in stores.

November 24, 2016

Well Wishes

Here’s a
Bunch of violins
And wet tears
For your
Imagination
Of troubles,
Welcome
To the
Real world.
Like everyone
Else. Much love
And well wishes.

November 23, 2016

A Bus Stop view STP

Outside,
Along the street,
White blankets muffle
Everything,
Cars sleep then
Crawl awake,
Head light Morse code,
Mounds heap
And all but stand,
Trees drip their wet
Above freezing
While a bus pulls up
Curbside
And then away
And on this day
And then again
Near Dunlap.

November 22, 2016

easily defined

in the shower
this morning
i realized
there is a whole
world out there
ready to
define you.

thinking further,
if i remember
correct, a
person is what
they eat.

in that case,
i am weekend left-
overs, dead meat,
some fruit, and
cold cows milk.

easy as that, no-
thing more, i have
saved the lot
a lot of work.
they have one less
job to do now.

November 21, 2016

who lost 42- 24 last night and won’t win the Superbowl ever again?

today, Monday, will be
a little more quiet,
a little more
average,
a little more silence,
only because
those fans
of the Green Bay Packers
will be walking
in immense sorrow,
moping in their green
and gold regalia.
Today, i probably won’t
hear about the Vikings’
losing record,
or (maybe) how
we have never won
a Superbowl.
Because yesterday we won.
But now, that doesn’t
matter, those
cheeseheads roll tears,
their symbol, that
which attracts mice,
were simply defeated by
Washington, and “the wind”,
i guess any excuse,
i’ll give it to you.
your silence today.

November 20, 2016

Dude, shut up: the real life discussions of Facebook

dude… shut up.
mom, take
that picture
of me
off of
Facebook,
my hair does not look good…,

KT is always
photogenic.
mom!

*
did you know
you
are still on Facebook?
Terry!
when i
put your name
in it still
comes up.

*
you know
it’s going to
suck when
it costs you
money to
remove photos
from Facebook.

*
just delete that
picture of me;
mom, i told you
which one?
i liked…
i will take it down.
OBVIOUSLY.

*
ok,
what’d you say
which one
did you like,
i didn’t like any
of them…
delete it!
i don’t like
any of them!

*
i might
unfriend you.
Terry’s on
Facebook.
(i can find
myself right here.)

November 19, 2016

self and this house

i realize on self and this house,
more grit than our cat box
in the basement full of shit,
comfort as breast milk warm
where headboards should be,
cold in here as black crucifix
or clear ice formed on old leaves;
the death of fear is certain,
tho, enough with daisy metaphors
and stone subjective imagery:
i understand my mind as so,
and so as such, and this and that…
i realize one day weekends
go so fast to make us ready again,
and that real friends just are,
you really can’t ask for more.
i realize on self and this house,
no doubt the cold, can’t get out.

November 18, 2016

religion: media

what i have learned since last Tuesday,
and the sunny Tuesday before that

which so unceremoniously passed,
is that when someone tells me something

is a true something, it usually is. the labels.
the fears. the concerns. impending doom,

obviously. the end. i understand that
it usually is, and not just some spectacle

to make you watch over there. or closer.
i mean, no one ever cries wolf anymore.

no one really gets paid to say. or maybe i’ve
wasted 2 years of my life for their chance at 4.

or maybe the 67 bus will arrive late today,
so i can wait longer. man, my good ambitions.

and nothing ever changes. here comes the sun
slowly shedding light onto such fancy.