Posts tagged ‘Concept’

October 18, 2017

you go for it too, the end

our supposed sapience
this rabbit hole venture
grandeur, alluredly postured,
vested interest paying,
found wholly bound,
tied tight in pragmatic gestures,
molded, wired twill, just there. and not.
and the poses for those trite tripe elations
on adolescent medias ubiquitous,
for social aspirations, affirmation,
fleeting, vanishing in yesterday’s yesterday.
once a thought gone for
a thousand other good thoughts gone,
nothing to where i stand nowly.
these buildings were here, they saw too.
that bridge was here on Washington Ave.
this coffee hot was not.
Nor your laugh sharp, piercing…
your ideas are great, just imagine.
your politics are not his or hers or the self-appointed’s.
something like that.
something like this.
like the sheer wind cutting under blue hue.
stained words on paper.
hard text on a page.
a fortnight’s digested and expelled intentions.
will fill a box nicely one day.
morgues aren’t like in the television shows.
you will see it soon too.
then you won’t, verily.
and i just thought i would
tell you about it in this type.
because some day i can’t.

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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.

December 16, 2016

proud to be an american

i very much suppose that
i am proud to be an american,
the individual kind especially,
the kind that isn’t
like the group-think kind
that group-thinks
about big things nationally,
and maybe seldom locally,
unless it’s an opportune time,
like election season or media season,
not askew sharply by
what you think i should “know” and do,
and that others don’t,
even if our freedom of speech
can be very costly and
the weather is more potent
than the law or protesters, and
people want to change
the rules after the buzzer blows
and i can’t think
of anywhere else i would
rather be, maybe–besides
green ireland, with my wife and son,
because, i am very proud
to be an american for
we always get back up together
and we always have some sort of hope.

January 2, 2016

The Benefits of a Shut-In

Rather inside it’s less cold than out,
I see the temperature at 15 degrees F.

Rather on my couch than anywhere else.
Here is life through a tube, with myself.

Rather go to church for the community.
Rather walk down the block for the feel.

Rather think about how I’d rather not
get into an argument with local fools.

October 28, 2015

“Good Idea!”

ideas in mouth,
just words and air
in the wind.

ideas in action
takes a mind
to start to begin.

ideas in groups
like assholes,
useless, sit and spin.

ideas in self:
thoughts, experience,
stuck there within.

now if only action.
now if only action.

May 22, 2015

The Miracle of You

That great idea sparkled,
imagining a self that is beyond oneself,
though alike all others,
but different.

Where breathing air is a miracle
of filling a mass, and seeing for sight
a mechanism viewed, not closely near to being understood,
nor recreated.

And flesh and bone, a false creationism,
one of God, of man—of both alike;
the muse so exactly measured,
so detailed and defined and primed.

To discuss it would be off topic.
So, let’s cut to the chase.
Realism in truth, no “isms” could deduce it
to reasons or plainness, or a way to prove it in ways.

There is nothing and everything all at once, just waiting, just waking,
and this time it is just you who steps out of the front door to go.

Au revoir

April 19, 2015

A Unique Poetry Slam,

where difference is proclaiming your hardships
in the same way as everyone else.

April 9, 2015

The Best Idea that you Forgot Last Night

This wet morning I
am without
last night’s genius,

do you remember, I ask her.

It was a good one-liner.

No, she says…
I was tired.

So was I,
lacking a near pen, paper sat
on the nightstand as my head rested in
a pillow, my body under
a warm white duvet, next to her loving,

and at that moment my genius got up, jealous,
waited, and then moved to the door.

It felt all right
to let my genius
walk out and away.

Though, I hope it beat the rain.

April 1, 2015

Poetry Workshop, Senior Seminar

He sat as we tore him to pieces,
limb by limb; every sentence sound, lost thought, and errant period
became our subject, our purpose to change.

Critical words and suggested alterations sliced deep,
a pain was scribed on his taut winced mien, perspired.

I said nothing more, no more from me.

This was where their sticks and stones became surgical instruments, their say on his say, tools which cut to, with their subjective opines on art, on personality, on poetry.

I sat and said nothing,
until words came, “…any last suggestions?”

Then I spoke: I think your piece is good.

March 31, 2015

Right/Wrong

Some wrong is right, some right is wrong;
the only matter is who sings the song.