Posts tagged ‘Bad Poetry’

January 6, 2018

Famous poet

You can write poems for a million years and go unnoticed for having no group of publishers’ friends to push you, no narrative the same as allowed and believed.  You got to be like an ad and sell. The greatest story ever told on rabbit ears.  Prefer free.  But you can make biscuits and soup from nothing like words pulled from the mind, parleed to draw blind contours of shadows shaped and hue and season and time and light at a frozen window. Clocks never die. Hands stiky from grapefruit, something you hate to peal. But good, anyway. And we are a million-years-old forgotten before we are remembered growing trees in our stomachs to produce because we don’t piece their puzzle properly. No names or pictures or whatever they have. 

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December 13, 2017

sick n tired n stuff

There is chorus of coughs 
On a public library floor,
Amongst books, and shelves, and tech.
She sits at the desk, by the door
Think of Petri dish, its wish…
Think of blownout tissues, depressed.
Of flu shots and hot lead.
Stomach in tight knots, gut rot red.
For blue antibiotics.
Need more peaceful rest.
To the holiday season,
I do my best.
No more hate news.
Just the local weather.
No more making light of asthma;
Im on an inhaler.

January 3, 2016

(being lazy) all through the city

being lazy is my favorite thing to do.
i bike to West Photo to get 35mm film.
i drop money at the bank to pay rent.
i go on Nicollet to get fitted for a suit.
being lazy is great, as it pervades me.
i sit at The Local in downtown and talk.
i notice the bartender and server going.
i tell a joke & move thru tore up streets.
being lazy is my favorite thing to do.
i think i am doing this task so well.
i walk to magazine boxes placing art.
i write poems and prose and no one cares.
i think of how Monday there is change.
i think of how tonight is really tomorrow.
i meet local celebrities and have a chat.
i forget names and don’t mention it.
i get a discount for being a smartass.
i try not to find excuses for being me.
i try not to hear excuses for being you.
being lazy is my favorite thing to do.
i drink water instead of vodka bloodies.
i walk out on the ice and drink a beer.
i take photos of a sunset over trees.
i love the blue sky which lights me pale.
being lazy is my favorite thing to do.
being this lazy takes up so much time.

July 21, 2014

Monday Morning

alerted bolt upright by a sticky sheet situation,
first hours of the day
eggs toast and hot sauce
back pains and skin stuck to the bed.

radio conveying news, noise, whatever…
life has been brought to my attention -social media-
ladies promoting sexism; life venting on things, ironically, whatever…

moving stirring sitting standing
applying lotion,
fresh tattoos peel and feel like sunburns,
still drying to some extent.

packing bags, fingering keys, opening doors,
one way to the bathroom for relief
fake leather gloss on my bike seat
read something, anything—Nietzsche.

shower, shit, don’t shave
set- stare in the mirror,
look down to feet
making way, avoiding the cat and debris,
dust filled rooms, draw shades no heat relief.

silverware drawers,
sink filled with grease,
pressures such as time, hypocrites, saboteurs, hunger, cleanliness–…  oh, and NEEDS.

hang about dizzy-clogged head
one thinks
one forgets
one waits
one bends
I should have stayed in bed
I should have stayed in bed.