Archive for ‘attire’

February 12, 2018

point the finger

the tragedy of our misadventure
begins when we blame others
for where we stand now.

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January 20, 2018

some new problems came up on the 16 bus, so did you think the snow was bad, tell me what you think about the weather and the Vikings games i need to forget everything else and pretend everything is awesome…

snow out the window sinks
tightens and stretches
like the budget that we forgot to mention.
a 16 bus floats down University avenue,
Green Line aside; all the bars i can’t visit.
man behind the wheel says peek-a-boo
and hello and hey and whistles.
“i’ll stay inside for the Superbowl,”
but it’s triple overtime i think, line the pocketbook.
guy who doesn’t pay the fare: he looks like you!
i know, i love it and smile to my self.
in a basement studio with no meaning.
in a basement studio language, meaning, lofty.
to Aldi for diapers pickles and popcorn.
no more phone, calls on Google Home.
what if god was one of us? just a sloth like one of us.
2018 tragedies carried over from last year and the 90s.
i want to be bob dylan, i want everyone to love me.
everybody wants to be cats. dance the silence…
that’s just about as funky as you can be.
still the tears pile up.
they are puddles piled as metaphors high as the sky.
some other poet could write it better probably.
one thing goes wrong, next a million.
who isn’t tired, who isn’t trying their best?
no worries though, budgeting.
never been on a better diet, 3 notches in my belt.
grow muscle, grow bitter about society, lose weight: dad diet.
friends wives call to sell health, well…
tell the ads to go to hell.
we literally can’t afford to buy anything right now, for years.
AND i thought we were friends?
new phone, sorry who is this, i lost your number again…
shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
the snow sinks and turns to brown water.
all thoughts of fall and crisp leaves and warm sleeves.
please help me make the rent so i
can make the daycare so i can teach English
and get 7 on reviews when i need a 10
and their internet is at fault, shithole internet.
i wonder if it is mine and speed test and it’s fine.
project Fi treats me like a child.
i am blue davy dee davy da… blue.
my bank treats me like indentured servitude.
then reading memos on fact-based privilege.
tell me more about me that i don’t know about me.
the way i go, i am a pale robot, i am a terminator.
with emotions, with new days, between oceans.
the way i go i talk about the snow.

July 4, 2017

not popular enough

while you are out there living your life
just don’t kill me with your car
while you are texting and driving,
that’s all i ask.
(i am a husband and a father now…)
it’s hard to do to put down your phone, i know.
you swerving hard too, nbd.
that text is important like social media likes.
while i am out there too just don’t ask
me a thing about what i really think or care about
unless you can just agree
instead of proving me wrong
on something unproveable, because i really do.
i am triggered by dissent, as a self-identified never-wrongist.
because i get easily confused…
are you some sort of great god?
are you in the always-correct group?
are you my boss or the president or taxes too?
rather the sun ascends the west.
rather saunter New York City lost.
rather eat Texas Toast cold, raw.
this coffee tastes old like last week’s status update,
and coffee is not like wine.
salad dressing and pasta make a good cheap salad.
scroll the day away or stay awake.
find a new hobby app to find a new hobby to attack.
let the clothes pile up.
the chore list gets more amassed,
the opposite of my bank account.
never reline the trash cans with plastic sash.
shit happens but why me?
bike to a junk yard through a swamp in noonday sun.
around and past a brave frog standing.
tanktop sunburns, rooftop bars.
wondering which card to use to pay, a tip, how large?–sorry…
anyway, the extent of my road rage
is calling someone a fucking dummy
from the safety of inside of my car.
see me as i walk across the street
just remember to hide your phone.
no one would facebook live stream something like that
like finding another penny,
it won’t spark protest or make the front page.

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.

October 21, 2015

The Night I Lost My Coat

You lost your leather coat

At a bachelor party last weekend.

It wasn’t at the strip club,

Nudes danced wet on poles.

It wasn’t at the forgotten bar,

La Crosse lines them in rows.

It wasn’t inside of the party bus,

The one with open windows,

The one with a cracking radio…

It was lost, elsewhere between—

For reasons of altruistic motives,

To keep your brother warm.

It was lost in ways unknown.