Archive for ‘Spoken Word’

December 20, 2015

new sunday (amassing life)

the objective thermostat here
is hard butter on a dirty
busy kitchen countertop.
other contraptions don’t work.
i am front page, B & C,
and Columbia Heights business.
they want coffee shops for
auto care, they want a place
to find what they need.
they, they, they, but who?
this is sunday with my nose
in a creased Star Tribune.
i am at home with Jazz 88(.5),
with the smell of burnt sourdough.
that which surrounds creates.
sounding the packaging from
yesterday’s christmas market parade;
that was money well spent.
coffee travels with it in aromas and
heat to our morning stomachs.
empty then, now made stuffed full.
just two grown up children
at a register, talking about getting
quarters for laundry, where baristas
broke food & beverage codes,
and what goes on later that day was told.
i don’t want to get sick, i just want.
i love the short weekends for
what they are, for what our
society allots a persona like me. i can
afford this for just five days of paid toil
out of the lengthy work week, and
i think, it might be worth the wait.
new sunday measuring the warmth,
running in the cold; we are finding two
for five for a 40 hour amassing life.
and that is how exactly i am i.

December 14, 2015

Seeing the End

I’ve seen doors locked for all time,
purpose in moments changed,
and boxes closed indefinitely

with familiar occupants inside.
Yet, still I lift my head in ice pellets
coming down on the campus mall,

and still my view is fixed straight-
forward when allowed, and with
this aside, and taking on alternatives.

I exist in a one bedroom apartment
in Southeast, brushing teeth, put-
ting my eyeballs in to see just this.

October 30, 2015

Proof of an Afterlife

It’s hard to believe in an afterlife.
You lose a lot of people close to you
and October mornings seem colder.
Things appear more apart,
even shoelaces have to cross lines.
I think at least half of me died,
while the other part doesn’t mind…

Ben Franklin and his buddy had a pact
where whoever died first would
come back and say a code word,
like “rosewood”
or “cheery tree”
or I don’t know. Google it…
And they would just know there
was an afterlife—it never happened…

I think if I die the only proof of afterlife
will come in this form: I will come back
as a ghost at 3 in the morning
and raid all of the leftovers
in my mother’s fridge.
It will be loud and unmistakable, this proof.
And then I will be gone forever,
off to a hard sleep. And the very next day
when asked about it, all concerned,
I will bold face lie. There’s your proof.

October 18, 2015

Northrop – Center Stage

… don’t
try too
hard,

the
truth is
natural.

August 19, 2014

St. Paul in the Fall

St. Paul in the fall,

whilst leaves change and thin.

 

Whilst festivities and fairs

under tents, bearing food, creep in.

 

Whilst trees bend

with robust forceful wind.

 

A time to reflect the mess we’re within;

past and coming years, one which end and begin.

 

Peers and loved ones we’ve lost,

at grand experience’ cost. 

 

Standing growing moving,

shedding one layer at a time

 

A tan peals and pales,

A secret is revealed.

 

Skin and bone become frail,

light years fast pass the snail. 

 

A north shore lake-effect patience,

Months under sun we’ve waited.

 

Suffering rain snow and gale,

Minnesota weather: what it entails. 

 

In and amongst everything;

though a singular unit, alone as one.

 

Walking fresh cold press coffee in hand,

scanning distant verdant lands.

 

On this walk towards autumn- new times and old friends,

alternatives we enact; to the ever changing plans.

 

Remember the voices we will never hear again.

Remember the times with loved ones we spend.

 

Perplexed by this simple yet inspiring life,

St. Paul in the fall feels cool, close, fast approaching, and right. 

August 14, 2014

The World We Live In

Broken bones under flesh fortress

lacking compassion, brass tact,

watching misshapen clouds float by

lives ending every breath they pass.

 

Dine on colon cancer while

sipping cirrhosis of the liver.

Indulging just to indulge,

dropping bombs, “peace giver”.

 

Common sense factors in this;

complain about maligned malaise,

bike past full-up Mc Donald’s

those sick and confused sit for days.

 

People stunned, smoke and speak,

running once a week, not for health-

weakened knees, speckled disease

always giving up when in doubt.

 

I can’t, I have a mirror to answer to,

how does one explain that?

No need for a child right now,

I already own a cat.

August 11, 2014

Poemism

Poemism,

 

Women in a hallway laugh in high-pitched gasps

Keyboard sounds each letter, each word, each mark

Columns and books and pages and paper and carts

Hands have been tied; set in motion, all of our lives

Anointed anecdotes for possible and realistic potion

Motion in the lines, value and dots; we make art a lot,

Half-assed cross-hatched chicken-scratch, this and that

Comparison in passion, although found it tough to relate

Mouth agape, unwanted sentences we slate, as of late-

Contribute contraband, questions, and propaganda

With what is the stamina; have we not enough coffee?

Have we lost are heads in puffy clouds above so lofty?

Most moments digress, then forget, find the path, then again forget

Minutes we have have been lent, meant, it stops only when it can

It moves, bends, manipulates, morphs, and changes for nothing.

What else is there to say about everything besides that:  It’s lovely.

August 4, 2014

Fond Memories

Stand in a pale room funeral home.
Dim yellow dances striped walls.
Close fake ferns and fresh-cut flowers.
Not into gleamed opaque casket.
My father sits, near his stepfather lay.
A soda can rests on stained wooden edge.
Here bright reflections of unnatural dye.
We have to pick him up, so heavy- and out.
Grab hand on cold pallbearer’s hold.
Navy Cadillac hearse backs to still box.
Pull with strained arms, struggle to balance.
Measure more densely than expected, hot day.
Hung-over and dried out, stiff- filled chemicals.
We get in the van and head to the American Legion.

Disbelief.

Family and a buffet line inside
We sit close and speak soft
A pastor comes up to talk
He says he is with god
I go and get seconds
Completely lost

My grandmother does not understand.

August 3, 2014

Morning Read

First thoughts of morning,
poor vision blues in a book.

Hung on each dark word as the guilty-
grabbing tired mind as it takes me inside.
Scanning each sentence, detecting its mention;
importance of just this, and just that,

-at that,
I put my head back
on a pillow,

Thoughts of last night stir as my belly aches.
Reading inspired relaxation as I ready the day.

July 31, 2014

Taxing Life

Life Taxing:
we sit behind walls to pay for sitting behind walls.

Wheels spin, no gas on deck,
armies fight wars waged for black gold;
these things are related.

Glass punctures and creates an escape,
you sit roadside with a flat-tire and deflated ego.

An IED blows off a soldier’s leg,
an obese man eats a sandwich and drinks a diet coke,
a beautiful young model hates her reflection; finding flaws;
a CEO makes money.

And no one knew the half.

Birds fly,
rivers flow,
a book weighs down a hand,
words play heavy on the head.

Cottonwood seeds float on thick air,
tombstones bask in the sun.
So far away no voice could reach;
even so not of native tongues.

Days we have lost and the one that just began,
my toast is burnt,
furniture sits un-rearranged.
Affects leave me unchanged;
for certain of, same, -oh distaste.

Life goes on
a cat meows
a clock ticks
the heat moves in and settles down
Fall is here.

Only this time it’s without you.
I wish I could tell you about that.