Archive for ‘artist’

July 7, 2017

hands foot and mouth disease

… yeah, being a dad you see things,
saw hands foot and mouth disease again
from the other end, i say this now
but when i was 17 years-old i got it too:
sister taylor was an infant
she had it at the time and my hands turned
to blisters that couldnt pop with knives
feet turned to pins and needles and nettles
and things that couldnt pocked hot and roiled
something not nice at all
the doctor said, yeap hands foot and mouth
like yeap, i had HIV in 2007 and it was positive
and then it was false positive and gone
and my head is still living with the idea of dying
living with this is not a medical facility
living with the idea that labels changed me then
now my son has hands foot and mouth disease
like its a problem but i can relate
O’ you havent had it? you got it easy
and now he is teething to top it all off in twilight
i love sleep for not having it
i love having someone like me growing up
love is a beautiful thing
Plato said a grave disease of the mind
now look at my appendages

Advertisements
June 25, 2017

i notice and i think you should too

i will tell you, if you want to be unique,
differently skewed and
especially noticed or adulated where you are,
dont be a poet.
coffee and beer are my fuel during this grey day;
opposites like that do attract, like defined words and me.
(Sunday morning coming down,
wrote this yesterday while
teaching students how to speak Midwestern English in other countries (plural).
i could say i am international by now, wont.)
(anyway) to get noticed, get a real job,
work very hard every day, and
mind your own personal business
in this capitalistic venture,
otherwise known as your broken dream land,
otherwise known as real life.
dont take photos to share on social media;
nor add filters for likes, #NoFilters.
nor wear a bunch of makeup
to make up for your flawed human makeup.
nah, you needn’t do that.
just be, thats really real and really noticed.
people think you got a problem then.
tell them to unplug and not scroll.
my breath applauds me, my feel stings as truth alone.
that would be unique in a world where going viral on CNN Breaking BS
or standing on 94 W or E rebelling pointedly,
maybe cutting off ambulance service to someones grandmas dilemma,
like the rest of the thoughtful group
over 12 peers turned to one loathsome local department,
under adjectives: fascist, systematic, murderers et al.,
is considered some sort of special star sticker and truly esoteric
and great advocacy and activism novel, true, poignant, necessary.
but i understand sort of, well i do…
it seems too obvious and you know it…
you do.
products of media brought to you by you and look at those pricey ads.
so go ahead and think,
how can i not be like them, working for someone who doesnt pay me,
the others that do the same thing (as others)
that i do, yet with more good friends
with more important memberships
with heavy solicitations–sell my books, ever heard of pulp?
pulping happens.
with more performances at more trendy publishing houses
at more hipster coffeehouses.
i also wrote a poem today that wont get noticed.
like everyone else(s).
it is bigger than pale generalizations.
more complex than a Saltine cracker
and its box–squarely.
you know, i wont put some same sign in my shitty yard
for people to like.
for i dread mowing and wont water for more work.
the neighbors enjoy my company already, go ask.
there isnt enough space on it already too,
to say what i want to say, with open meaning,
and it wont make the community feel better anyway
because no group backs it, i havent donated to prove i believe,
and because it would say: each individual should do better
themselves as a unique individual, individualists themselves.
because if it were that easy to fix the neighborhood, with signs,
then everyone would be doing it…
and if the doorhandle opens the door i won’t fix it either.
even if i kick the door in and the handle is still on it,
then probably the doorhandle still works.
like poetry–it doesnt take much really.
getting noticed though…
so i dont know what else to write,
that’s true or fiction or thought.
besides: nothing special here, just i notice(d)
and i think you should too.

May 17, 2017

reinventing the wheel

adulting is a non-stop everything, everywhere and always. no more mac-n-cheese naps with mommy and mr. rogers. keep the bathroom open. listen for the monitor. wake up early, that’s late. eat later, after the feeding. get used to it. dont try.
try not to complain. the heat will turn up. the cold will come. the furnace will die. never really had AC, so… the bills will grow higher in a pile until they start to call your phone from unknown numbers that look familiar. growing. like your gray hairs. like your thin patience. like your elongated nose and drooping ears. coffee stained teeth black holes between. like the grass when you let it go for 2 weeks. and still, humans turn to antique glass. fragile to the touch, sagging at the bottom, blemished for worth. thicker and distorted. probably gravity we blame. and the wheels will stop. and the wheels will fall off. kick them tho. be ready to get down and dirty and fix it, even if you aren’t a pro. that’s how it goes. a new something for you to find a new way to fix a new something. reinvent the wheel why don’t ya? –for gods sake. or try to imagine a time when and where things get much easier and you grow softly younger and everyone thinks positively the same, that they are happy too… and you can keep your wisdom at that.

May 16, 2017

fresh breath of water

here are words and thoughts.
here are posts and talks.
where we go and where
we dont… rather not say.
rain falls through windows
sideways, kissing a leaden sill.
the broken internet is dead,
that means my castle is down.
ok google, make me rich.
ok google, grant this wish.
ok google, play jazz.
see, that one works–soundtrack to my life.
one works and works and works.
and one really doesnt.
they dont like the prospects, every option.
probably not a pension in protest.
and me too, many things are hard.
i am worried about all these poets
with all their problems–no odes,
saying all of the same things
begging for different, acting as fact similes.
we are and we arent the same and writers.
stand up comedy was much easier, welcoming;
comics want the same thing, yes: a laugh,
and they get it in different ways, yes. that.
i am just wondering, worried.
will be home to teach English in China.
will be home after learning them to read.
will be home some day when i get one,
now i must buy a box–be sure.
a million different reasons
to not be the same, to create change–but talk,
but friends and donations and money
might dictate that. the focus. the appearance.
no one wants to hear about
what i look likes problems.
there are bigger and more unjustices,
there are impossibles that simply must.
i trust that it will smoothly be
ironed out over time by talking heads.
and they keep praying. and stay awokened.
tell me to believe, hard to do now.
i cite science, but i respect all religions;
that is not a dichotomy, that is reality.
i am just looking for my free lunch,
and my wife and my sons, and everyone else’s too,
an ad hoc lottery ticket: to win,
and some time to find some time.
when i do i promise to buy you something…
no one knows though,
and our roof disappears in July,
as the money did for my emergency health.
all in the same fish bowl
trying to find the fresh water and good shade
and not get called out for it.
buying the cheapest beer,
hardly eating anything at all.
enjoying what i did in the past more and more.
man, i was living the dream then and now.
and that is how i got here, you too. 🙂

April 28, 2017

success story

today’s modern success story:
create a meme that
everyone enjoys, something clever,
something liberal but not free.
maybe you do it on FB…
don’t lose friends while you are at it.
get it to go viral,
maybe 1 billion likes, MAYBE–god that would be great,
(and you forget to monetize that shit)
especially on YouTube
however don’t say what you actually think
because they will
shut down your channel… make it pc, appease me.
start a meaningful movement with
the aforementioned clever idea/meme.
go out and cause a scene, disrupt and scream,
and no justice no peace, believe, be seen.
get asked to go out and repeat.
as i have been, “Terry would you like to speak?”
no i have to have surgery on my teeth…
get your followers to believe.
go out by any means, by any means.
you know what I mean.
become a major success.
place all your bets, no frets.
and then realize that
likes on facebook or twitter
or any livestreams
or insta
or on the local stations
or in the local coffeehouses
or in the local publications
or on all the scenes
wont pay your rent.
won’t pay your college debt.
wont buy drinks for your friends.
won’t be enough to pretend you have affluent parents.
you get what you get: nothing.
you only make money for the people that
trick you into being a part of it,
you are the product of advertisement,
you work for free, for them.
now, go out and find a second job,
because your lovely dreams
are just things you
wake up from,
as snowflakes in the sun,
as the bill collectors keep calling and calling.

March 24, 2017

sense of humor/body image

sometimes
no matter how
hard
you work out
your core
or sculpt your body
to perfection
or sweat it out
or believe in yourself,
it still
doesn’t change
your fucked up attitude
no matter
which
mirror you pose in front of
no matter how
many selfies you take
from whichever different angles…

only a
ripped sense of humor
can
make that pretty or attractive or sexy,
only that
can do that,
only laughs
will jack that shit up.

what does a gym
membership go for
for that?  

February 1, 2017

uniquely flawed machine

as any uniquely flawed machine
i am toilet seat left up,
i am words that sour like trash,
i am defined by my malfunctions.
every day another anything to make.
and it’s still my greasy buttons
and bent wires that cross wrongly
which make those things happen
the way how they so exactly do…
uniquely flawed machine am i,
that does not a good human being make,
but one that only does and tells.
but one that i am sure you can relate.

January 2, 2017

rupi kaur and everyone else can do it too

i guess it’s really just regular prose
and words and pictures scrawled from pen,
something so familiar anyone can do it;
an email a doodle on a notepad and then
put on white paper easy font some poetry
use your smartphone to capture the art
put it out to the world as if a superstar composed it
as if they were the best ever, sure they probably
know some publishers, probably slick in the biz,
that is the wonderful and talented rupi kaur too
but far more she creates and creates and creates,
words and ideas that come close to home
so familiar to those scrolling, tweeting
and sharing social media professionals,
because it was geared towards them,
it is designed for them like cat food is for cats
because there is market for inspiration:
to change the most of days and our acute minds.
my words involve coffee and hard sentences
chocolate–very dark, if i get very lucky,
and prose that no one knows, literary landscapes–
as if a hydrogen bomb went off on some shakespeare,
blew away the good art, took away the drawing,
and the respected namesake and time,
left a placeholder we did not understand
asking for donations to create breast milk
vonnegut, harrison, bukowski, niebeling, melville
and diapers, because that is how trendy one is
and lower case and lack of punctuation and.
everyone else can do it too, we can relate.

December 10, 2016

cold as cold as cold and cspan

it is 6 degrees in frogtown, mn,
i am inside sick watching cspan

and a baby sleep in his rock
& play, wife in the kitchen watching

a cracked screen. my face is full
of snot, head full of congestion, watching

talking heads tell me about “fake news”
and debates and their influences.

(easy, i could take their words for it
they probably don’t care about mine.)

someone wears a bandaid on his cheek;
the president wants a deep dive

investigation; and the red hot chili
peppers had a forgotten album in 2004, says reddit.

i wonder about where i was at that time,
i don’t know how that all factors

into everything, but mostly i care
about what is right here, around me.

wooden floors and naked feet–pallid,
lemon sinks to the bottom of my mug

as a blue whale in the south pacific,
muddy water coffee waits on a tablecloth,

plastic snug on the windows, electrical heaters
and baby toys. a coat hangs slack

like yesterday. i know how hillary
felt when she fell into that van,

now i’m with her. now i am sick.
now i am achy as a lab skeleton cold.

November 17, 2016

there are no part-timers in a capitalistic world.

true activism is
very important,
especially to
the career activist,
because
even if there
isn’t a problem yet
there is still
rent to pay.

and perhaps always
some imagination
to make.