Posts tagged ‘global warming’

January 13, 2018

Fact: in Minnesota, the bus is always late in the cold, and later the colder it is…

i was telling the ladies at daycare
about how the bus
always comes 20 minutes late
when it is cold out.
like now, it comes half-an-hour later, guaranteed;
when it perfect out the bus comes on time…
the colder it is out
the later the bus arrives.
and this isn’t a joke this is real, scientific method real, tested.
this is an actual fact.
they asked so i told them, i love our talks.
he made it, great, goodbye.
but the truth is
one would figure these waits would get better
now that the Superbowl is coming to town.
but i guess not. not for the peasants.
us in servitude, making it to work and back
not having the magic platinum tickets, not insiders.
have to wait on ice packed glaciers between snow drifts.
global cooling is giving me frostbite and making me bitter.
across from the Goodwill at Fairview, near
some abandoned shopping cart excursion,
son in stroller, meth-addict twitching, calling
the Google schedule bullshit, smoking a cig.
don’t these things come every 20 minutes or so…,
give me a break–i mean seriously,
i don’t need this in my life,
no not when it’s negative 20.
then it floats up when you are moments from death, asking god.
this is, even while being secular and skeptical.
i think of summitting Everest and wait longer.
you know i probably could with this training.
though the oxygen tanks and Sherpa, i need them now.

Advertisements
May 21, 2015

Pre-Open Mic on Nicollet Avenue

Streetlamps poured
a waxen yellow glow on the Nicollet Avenue scene below,
as above heavens danced and sparked white
as now onlookers stood and watched.

The hum of vehicular masses turned to a city of cratered paths,
while people were lit as props, good and evil,
coming and going about their static business.

This nature in society, framed, isolated—what we have;
metal grasps of synthetic hands
coming to and shaping us,
to make up our wake up, to shake up our trust.

Bleeding oil, exhausting fumes,
killing cows, and loud preaching fools;

we exist as a populous,
with meaningful purpose, and American sentimentalism.

Illuminated here by streetlamp’s waxen yellow glow, on Nicollet,
under heavens about to open wet,
mingling with ghosts of our yesterday,
with whole cultures of churches and states to thank.

Amen.

December 3, 2014

i think you care

i think you care

About:

Life, death, Ebola, drinking, race relations, the president of the United States of America, homelessness, taxes, funding wars, Mike, Uncle Sam, inadequacies, JFK, gas prices, rape, sex, drugs, violence, AIDS, Rock n Roll, Ferguson, STDs, music, College, grades, Foreigners, police brutality, Fakts, labels, Fakes, Lies, Words, plastic surgery, indigenous peoples, europeans, animals, opinions, superficial artistry, Starvation, The Minneapolis Scene, internet fame, government, money, cigarettes, cancer, hydrophobia, bombings, attacks, guns, apologists, separatists, corporations, cultures, cults, Moby-Dick, your job, my job, sedentary stares, external cost, Global Warming, Black Friday Sales, monomania, consumerism, debt, materialism, wants, needs, reality, the way we define language by how we compare, and that, by how we “know” what we “know” by comparison, rising tuition, the human condition, religion, the human condition, hope, institutions, the human condition, and forgiveness- Please.

Yes,

i think you care,
But one does nothing by feigning aware.

NOW MOVE.

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)

 

Summertime

And

Rhymed lines

 

Blank verse

And

Mini-skirts

 

Beer on a deck

And

Sunburns that hurt

 

Been stuck-inside-life

And

There’s nothing worse

 

Darkest before the light

And

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.  

January 8, 2014

Polar Vortex Complex

Deep down in my bones I could feel the bitter cold

Unlike the weather I tried to remain positive

I could feel I wasn’t alone on this ill-tempered day.

 

The other commuters were as bold

Walking alone proved treacherous

I noticed this as I made my way.

 

Fixed we stood.

 

None took bare fingers to examine smart phones

So pained by the wind one could hear its distant moan

This had turned into a city full of steam and smoke and coats.

 

KVJ says, “So it goes.”  “So it goes.”  “So it goes…”

 

Warm thoughts what we could

Long minutes existed in time unknown

This as we waited in a bus shelter along the road on this dangerously weathered spinning stone.

 

… Here’s the 3B coming, right?

 

I can’t see, lenses create ice

Early day twilight wearing these damned sights

All eyes and no view, please help me make it through.

 

It must be dark as night on this frigid January morning

It was forecasted with forewarning

They said, ‘Stay inside.’ -like run and hide.

 

We have the Polar Vortex Complex

This is not Global Warming*.

 

This is a place where all inside have lost their minds because of ‘things’ being boring.

 

Thoughts, then I look on

Blurred Metro Transit lights?

 

Praying it’s not gone.

 

I am not even halfway there yet

A walk I fast regret.

 

Lungs feel tight, I start at fright.

 

Walking, my vision fogged and I forgot the art of breathing

Ice crystals formed on my lashes not for the better of seeing.

 

-Seething, I’d not like to die like this, on a near vacant campus

I begged, pleaded, and asked the UMPD for a small ride, I did not gain advantage.

 

Nothing happened.

 

Five minutes later my temperature changed

The outside temperature stayed the same.  (Below Something-nearing -50)

 

I thought, has my nose frozen yet, has carbon-monoxide damaged my brain?

Blackened and blotched flesh-stained.

 

All was but rearranged, all my ideas of sustain

All my big plans were being choked at the throat

I try manage at maintain.

 

Things we think about in a bundle

In this frost-bit jungle, the coldest city I have come to know.

 

Minneapolis,

Little cold apple, come as they go

Most, (at least), some will stay home.

 

Temperature of this place we live in

All things we’ve been given.

 

I must have blindly run off somewhere

Panic gulp puffs of smoke catching air as I passed

Mad dash hypothermic maniac, today I am back intact.

 

 

*Hyperbole

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
November 30, 2013

Travelers of the Hometown

With a moderate hangover we wake to unfiltered light.

A sign of the debauchery transpired last night.

 

Weather view tempts those to wander outside.

If they take time and mind to leave confines.

 

Travel,

Family,

And the Local Paper –

 

We barter borrowing the car to visit familiar strangers.

 

Beer,

Coffee,

Bowling,

And a Walk in the Books-

 

Finding matters of interest-vague yet specific,

Travelers of the Hometown, try? …

 

We didn’t even have to look.

August 27, 2013

Dew Point (Part 1)

Most won’t run in “normal” temps; I run best in advisories, while injured, after a cigarette.

 

***

 

Sweet putrid smells greet the nose, as it goes, in the air around this city.

 

Noon, as we steadily increase to terminal dew point, a midday jungle hell, all the populous feels and knows, pressures build as dead swell.

 

Praying a fast hour to follow.

 

An almost empty glass bottle, wood-corked, lay with remnant rose’ along the side of sweltering asphalt streets.

 

Bike frames lacking single tires, basement doors easily unlocked, the city is almost barren, inside to air-conditioning, and fans, people flock.

 

There are three places to find relief:  first, the library, second, the basement, and third, the beach.

Bring water and a small dirty sheet.

 

Sand, or leather chair-suit your fancy, free yourself of cares.

Less words, more discrete, fast on feet, on a mission, thoughts of cold sleep.

 

The only objective is to beat the heat.

Weather mental-disease; fight the condition, and remember to breathe.

 

Thoughts of comfort released.

 

Shirtless again, three showers later, and I still sit in wet.

It is too hot to feel defeat.

Times like these we forget.

July 3, 2013

Two Times

Two times a year you cannot go outside:  One in the winter and one in the summer times*.

 

The former you’ll freeze up, and the latter you’ll run dry.

 

Minnesota questions, why?

 

The contrasts are stark.

The places we reside.

Actions never lie-as one lies confused on the floor in sweltering heat, rain, snow, or sleet.

 

(*purposefully, as to why I don’t leave…)

 

The yearly repeat.

May 16, 2013

Blue Planet (Segment From Downtown Prose)

Hiding from spies, not wearing gloves, kiss love.

 

A plain planet hanging in the balance, ever fragile, with soil, oxygen, water, and talents; Blue-green moving, spinning in the blackness while we drill holes and clear forests and act like these acts aren’t causing damage. 

 

Someone cries because they have been cheated, someone smiles because they got what they needed.

 

Drone attacks on smack.  Long kiss goodbye.  Work is code for crack.  John is code for Jack.  And so on.

 

Off to start another day, another moment we can try another way.  Hoping that time flies-unlike a ton of bricks.  When we realize we are stupid we find we are the wisest.  The worst thing that could happen, and then it’s all right.  Clear sight.  Lights out for the night, I’ve been enlightened.

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.