Posts tagged ‘#apt612’

June 9, 2014

How do you “know” Love?

People don’t “know” love,
Love is unknowable.

It is a feeling:
And acted upon.

You are the love you make,
No labels
No others
No excuses
No blames

Just that.

If it is shit, it is because it was made as such
If it is the best, it is because it was made as such

If you love, then “know”
If you “know”, then love

People assume too much; age, race, and gender have nothing to do with love,
Inside is where it comes.

How’s your love today?


If the only thing your love stands for is status on social media your love is lacking…
Children speak of love as fantasy,
Adults speak of love as comfort and trust.
What’s the dichotomy?
So, what’s the rush?


If it’s broken, look in a mirror.

March 10, 2014

(Now) The Land of 10,000,000 Lakes/ Relatively Obscure

(Now) The Land of 10,000,000 Lakes

By Terry Scott Niebeling


Relatively Obscure;

But Only Now,

This year


(Must’ve been the Weather)


Thoughts at present

Winter resentment


(Had to’ve been a Tasteless Pleasure)




Rhymed lines


Blank verse




Beer on a deck


Sunburns that hurt


Been stuck-inside-life


There’s nothing worse


Darkest before the light


Patience makes all the worth


(Blinded by the light-eyesight)


Times in the Midwest

With the new season we’ll wear less for dress:


Abandon bundles…

Step through Puddles…


Avoid Potholes and Passive Aggressive Mumbles.


We still (always) look forward to the warm days ahead,

Sunlight makes it easier to leave the bed.  

April 18, 2013

Observation: Rise and Shine

The morning chemistry is coffee on a countertop.

The bell rings softly as we stare at canopy aloft.


The ceiling fan does not spin as dust clings to its pale blades.

Rain hits roof and window but does not venture in, as I watch amazed.


Lamplight and grey skies shone to my eyes.


And then I hear.

And then I see.

And then I think.


Some female comedians have it so easy; where their breasts are their best joke.

Some musicians have it so easy; they are successful for playing just one note.

Some people have it so easy; while others sink they float.



Some people learn; some people won’t.



And those were just a few asides and some real-life.

Rise and shine.

April 11, 2013

All Falling Cold Hell

Anticipation led to hesitation; perception of spring led to disappointment by appointment amongst other things.


Labels led to let down, frowns on pale faces.


Snowflake to fertile ground, like seminal traces in hot fleshy places.


Bumbling to blunder the tragic funster.

Sauntering as he perused through town.

At times, head down.


Walking the evident precipitation, precipitous, no elation-bitter nation.


No one laughed.


Investigate the fleeting suspect clouds.

Tacitly, at times, implying:  Go back to where you cannot be found.


Cursing them, at times, aloud, losing one’s mind, becoming unsound.

Stuck in: culture, climate, and the daily rounds.


Ultimately and absolutely let down; however, proud of the weather that fell about the ground.




I almost had a brain aneurism when I saw the heart-attack snow in bright white mounds.

March 21, 2013

Marching through March

Lunar landing below boots: en route through schoolyard, stumbling over snow blanketed roots.


The crunch and puff sound is ubiquitous in the frozen air.

Particles of snow and ice travel through the wind.


Surrounded by physically changed water in a dehydrated saunter.


The night sky is chilling, desolate, and excitingly uninviting.

I want to be inside, undercover, next to lover.


I want to burrow to spring time.

I want summer to be around the next moment.

I am shaking from cold and sadly disappointed.


Anointed by the touch of wind gusts.

The landscape is shaped like desert blown sand hills; yet quite the antithesis.


Reality is we are boxed in by weather, a climate not of pleasure.

Frozen state, what awaits?


Is this our last bout of a past season?

March 11, 2013

Out For Coffee

As a rule:

Don’t drink.  But if you do, only have 2.  Don’t drink more than 2.  Don’t drink and drive.  But if you do, don’t drink more than 2, and try to stay alive. 

I love someone who had more than 2 and tried to drive, and they almost died.   


As a Day:

Make a magnificent video for all to see.  No fear to be real, so free.


Sit sipping coffee, laughing high-pitched and lofty.  Life is sweet as toffee as you can see.


Pondering oft-hesitantly.


Real snow on the ground outside of the warm café, for drinks we stray, for hi-speed we stay, reading a book, getting a refill for sixty-five cents, with coins we pay.


This is no movie.




We hope to reside until summer time.




The sun will blind our eyes.


We forget, we forgot.  Remind me.

Quietly show on time-show up with pride.

Pick a bride and die.


Unbundle and stretch out.


This is life.


Alone we cry.


But why?


There is so much to learn about self; looking into a mirror what can you describe?

December 3, 2012

This Day, Her Day

Lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling he thought:


This Day-Her Day



Real-life-Good Times

Alliteration-Great Minds


No Idea-In the Clear

Out of beer-Out of Here


Summer days-Winter Months

Bike to Work-Eat Lunch


Rake the Leaves-Sit Inside

Slap her Ass-Forget the Pride


Hungover-Sober Judge

No more Headaches-A lot more Love


Fun times-Fun times


Every Day-Hard Times

Semi-Pro-Novice Rhymes


No Insurance-No Church

Feeling Better-Feeling Worse


Most Days-Hardly Sit

Look Around-Take it In


He threw the blankets aside and rose from his bed to do it again…

Only to do it again.

But this time while looking in the mirror he said, “Hello my friend.”


Then I thought:

How much does your book weigh?

It’s heavier than my remote.


Then I experienced:

And J said, “You are so positive.”

I said, “If you aren’t positive, what can you be?”

J said, “Negative.”

And I said, “No, not me.”


Another day, another dollar, broke scholar.

Keep reading and writing.

So enlightening it’s frightening.




August 19, 2012

Victoria’s Secret

I told her I take no offense; I enjoy being sexually harassed.


Ephemeral, fleeting; we just met now she is leaving.


An eye passes and we catch whatever it is that is special.

We are opposite each other, in respects, but we know opposites attract.

We come for the checks and to get out of debt.


Later:  At the bar laughing, gasping, grasping broad smiles, and social empathy over those in view.


Tasting the beer.


A piano bar at night, lit up nice.

Glad we came.

Glad we challenged one another.


Eclipse:  Moving towards, and covering someone for a moment, and then it is over.  It may or may not happen again in this lifetime.  Lamenting lifeline.  The light shines.  You might find…


No wine was spilt.

The encounters you have with the people at work.

We catered to the needs of others, after that we sat, we drank, we judged.


After That:  Intellect and free language brought us closer.

We touched hands; hers were colder.

I felt like a child.


Cold hands cold heart, and she was the boss of interest for the moment.


Earlier:  Ice water, and a mission, customers were kept intrigued as I by the sight and banter.


Later:  A sigh, and then more laughter; we spoke of the grotesque, the art, and the thought, politics and evil ideas, of past, present, and lost.


Something stuck out, yet hours flew by.


Momentarily:  A silvery purplish tint around the lids came through as she lowered her hair.

In the shade color spoke shame of physical violence that didn’t exist.

The things we imagine.


Sleep lost in the throws of a substance more important: conversation.

Rapunzel would have been jealous, black locks, dark beauty.

Stunned that she knew me.


She discussed how she loved the exotic and how white girls were not erotic.

I agreed as I disagreed, taking in the blond in the distance.


She must have been reaching 40 and was literally perfect; breasts, fit and large, hung against gravity like Spartans, frame, hardly there, I wonder about her diet.


That can’t be normal, she had to be from Georgia my friend said.

You can make your body anything we explained.

Her friends are all from Georgia, the ones that were talking about accents.


The wolves at the bar took notice diligently, not letting go until she left.


A few Gin and Tonics for the gluten-free, I ate less bread and felt better this week.

3 Premiums, I could have had more, but drunk people never score.

This round is on me, break to flee, never leaving that moment.


Attentive waitress thanked us a million for giving her six and that’s it.

Off to light up the night in a basement, in a condo.


Later:  Sitting bedside we spoke of authors, times, modern art to effect, reflecting now I wonder how we got so personal in such rapid fashion.


At That Moment:


I got up and left.

I hadn’t slept in 3 days.

I remembered my mind was playing tricks on me.

I felt somber and lost.




Transit:  Biking home at 3 am, biking through nothing, is it Monday?  Is it Saturday, is it Sunday?  I have not a clue.  Work does funny things to a person.


I pedal home and meet a blond on the stairs of my complex.  As I pass her she says hey and starts following, to a run.  She almost beats me up the stairs.  Confused I offer her over.  She came in and sat down.  She unloaded her life story on me 3 times.  I sat and sipped my wine.  I was confused, but her dress was falling off and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen so I listened intently.  This was such a contrast from the conversation earlier.  She spoke of parties, of poor management, of domestic abuse and verbal assaults.  I sat longer.  Finally, after an hour I said I was tired, so I walked her to the door.  She walked out and walked back towards me.  Her dress and appearance looking more sexual and disheveled; as if the deed had been done.  Sauntering towards me in her red flower-covered silk dress, paunch stuck out, arms set back, legs semi-exposed, she arched up near the door.  She pulled me to her at the frame, my hands touched about her bosoms and backside, we hugged, hesitating no longer we kissed.  She said she’d be back as she touched my nose with her index finger and drug it down to my lips.  Mason jar of wine in hand she strolled out the door and up the stairs.

Goddamn this night is weird.




Earlier:  Intelligent conversation, if only my friends could meet she.

The people we know from where we exist create bliss if you let things be.

Art has a hold on her, and as she says I should move to New York the Piano Man strikes up a cord to the same tune.


Don’t beg me, as I smile. 


2 am:  The time at the bar was over, night had passed for so many, but we had been stuck in a time warp, and almost forgot from the pot.


Like how right before something good happens you feel at your worst.

Like we are evolving-some people are born without wisdom teeth.

Like not knowing if Santa is real is the epiphany of curiosity.

We found the presents.

The tacit agreement between parent and child; forever remained captivating and devious.


And we kept talking…


Black holes.

Dark Matter.

Hadron Collider.



We sat, I wondered if it matters if she moved

Our expiration date was years away.


The difference between Satan and Santa is the placement of 2 letters.

I tell her without words I will never forget her.

November 22, 2011

Mr. Loring Park

Loring Park.