Posts tagged ‘MPR’

March 6, 2018

03/06/2018 snow removal for the corner lot and the ideology that comes with better my community for my community through action

woke to
delayed buses
old tweets
hopefully not-cancelled daycare
strong coffee
necessary boots
thoughts of snapping
heavy fucking parka
and a pre-broken back
to shovel us out.
that’s my life.
no choice really.
checking my something…
the weather up here,
and we think we can change it.
probably we don’t.
it changes us.
in so many ways:
my skin is pocked
eyes are dry and red
throat sore, pain in head,
even when cleared.
tell me who owns who
and i’ll show you your facebook updates
and i’ll show you to donate to your cause
and follow that money, former and latter.
people do good and bad things.
surely, those ideas are paid for.
these are cost free!
why do you wake and stay woke?
there is shoveling to be done just there.
i have to go outside
and deal so no one trips
and falls and
sues. no one trips at this residence
and falls and sues on salted ice.
i disagree with MPR on the matter.
they don’t salt my walk.
i don’t salt theirs.
that works out for both of us.
the cameras will tell of the driven snows and blocked streets
and they talk of fairness.
blizzard winds, clear my sidewalk
so i don’t have to. diapers to change.
English language to teach in foreign lands from my basement.
that sounds fair to me.
go out and get lost in it, i will.
go out and another round at this love.

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February 9, 2017

Mpr thinks of poetry

Remember Melville died penniless
and Bukowski in CA without mind;
Nowadays they still talk way up high
the overrated, alas they forget mine.

October 7, 2015

member drives that murder my ears

a week in, my radio becomes desperate,
it needs money–needs, it needs me to
do my part. i usually just listen and
i don’t need to do anything. i sit on
the floor for stretches, smelling the bacon,
as the toast goes in. a two car crash doesn’t
look good, a bicyclist was involved,
near Ham Lake, it sounded tragic.
now they want to give me something.
i want to win, the odds go up, the moment
is exciting, this is important, become
a member! yesterday, in class, the call
came in, i was busy. i knew what it
was all about. again, hang out on twitter,
yesterday is gone, this prize is yours, now,
just donate. don’t they get money from
the government as a public entity?
they don’t discuss this. member drives
always kill me because i write language
for free, i don’t ask for money, it’s a public
service too, it’s beautiful. this channel makes
me want to start my own member drive,
makes me want to change the station.

February 4, 2015

NBD MPR

Listen:

Black ice with a dust of snow;
Causing foul for the work commute.
Dramatic TransAsia plane crash,
Beheadings and rebel fighting too.

-How about you?

Today’s News is blasé-

Most are concerned about the reality of:

Student debt,
Health insurance,
Early class start times,
And designer coffee that is simply too hot.

They keep us distracted and informed.

August 28, 2014

Local Public Radio

Frequency of seldom infrequency,
static-noised air to patient ear,
while colored with sun near a bus
or at the beach drinking beers.

Electric sounds come forth in waves
causation to rethink a certain thought,
eclectic colloquialisms, esoteric anecdotes;
meaning and purpose somewhat lost.

Effect and affect the way we make change,
asking questions: who, what, where, when, and why (?)
Coming from a time, this by-gone era,
not much action; save weather in the sky.

And yet always so much to say though,
because this is my local public radio.

July 6, 2014

Positive Platitude (this day)

Have a great day, make it that way.

Cold shower and fresh fruit,
Radio’s on to get the scoop.

Come dressed in Sunday best.
Blessed, whatever that means.

The little things__

Counting clouds in the sky, as we are biking by,
Minnesota streets; avoid pot-holes in between.

Big warm sun overhead,
Oh! To leave pleasant bed.

The life we lead;
Not the life we could have led.
Positive thoughts,
The words we’ve read.

Making what you can out of what you have, this day-

For no reason at all.

December 9, 2013

From Books to Blogs; A Story of Evolution

 

From books to blogs like cats and dogs;

We’re surrounded by a million writers with a million words,

Wanting to get read and be heard- absurd.

 

Zombies scare me less.

 

How to Be a Famous Writer:

Start today, don’t delay, and get on your way.

Print press doesn’t pay like they say.

It only takes a few seconds to change your ways.

 

Like Flies on Shit.

 

What’s an artist’s wage?

Cost per page?

Adverts?

 

MPR broadcasts their crying.

You’d think people were dying.

 

Do they even fucking read?

 

I could hardly hold back my laughter.

 

Then we look at progress, and the prospects.

Not finding a silver-lining.

 

No room for wining and dining.

 

You find that surprising?

 

No one’s getting fatter.

 

This hobby wasn’t to fill any part of any wallet.

Act like Author Gods but they haven’t yet penned their ‘Hobbit’.

Just minds and thoughts figuring how those unique (everyone) call it.

They were so close, but they lost it.

 

I want to vomit.

 

I don’t see.

They follow what they want to be.

Flee to the next scheme…

 

But sadly others have been there before; up, down, and in between; twice, three times, maybe four.

Do we need anymore?

 

Can we chart forward progress by going backward?

 

Recline, sit in a chair.

Analyze, document, look, read, compare,

Tense up and think about how life is unfair.

 

Are you prepared?

 

Open Market, Open Mic, there’s an Open Season on the Weekend Artist tonight.

-Awake and aware of the unawares.

-Happily, a positive outlier without a care.

Counter parts rest comfortably under stairs.

 

Understand the standard deviation and mean,

But not meaning to be mean-

 

All part of the artistry in the Minneapolis Scene,

Wipe ass with freshly torn pages.

 

Print press has changed throughout the ages,

And they present new material as if it’s not dated…

 

Faded yellow on a dusty shelf. 

He called it sleeping knowledge.

I think his popularity needs help. 

 

And all of those resources have been wasted.

They don’t factor external cost,

They can’t calculate their displacement*.

 

At least hope and ambition aren’t lost.

 

 

*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Displacement_(psychology)

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November 8, 2013

South, Prairie du Chien, Steamboat Travel

South, Prairie du Chien, Mississippi River Valley

Terry Scott Niebeling

 

Wake up in Prairie du Chien, Nähe Le Villa Louis.

 

Lay cold to the touch, on a rolled up sleeping bag.

You are not within.

You are without.

 

So early you feel like askin’.

-Time is it?

5:30 AM.

 

Surrounded by what you need:  Water.

Drank so much it made you so thirsty.

 

Noise from the generator wakes you-

A voice, Dave, a question-

He, a tall blond first mate, imagine rugged, stands above.

 

We refuel.

 

River smell rich, insects, and spider’s webs remain about you.

You ponder, your eyes shift, how many did you swallow?

 

Sit perched below the bar rail, a kicking spot.

-A useless lot.

-Where you squat.

You sad sit this shit.

Might as well sit out.

Close to go, avoid the hitch.

You have all the wherewithal to slouch.

 

Sleep eating, drinking-peeing, while hardly sleeping through the night.

Mop in hand, Dave asks again, cleaning a mess.

 

I pissed the deck, didn’t I?

 

He says, “Get Up!”  You say you haven’t slept.

Mums the word, I am told.

 

Sore throat sun in your eyes- weak dried out post drunk haze in your mind.

 

The smell of gasoline-or oil, or whatever powers this big bright red paddle.

 

Feels like a stiff neck, stiff legs, and a stiff arm, feels like it just hit me, my alarm.

Feels like a stretch.

 

Over the next few moments everyone showed.

There was an hour’s ride home-no service, no phone.

 

Took in whitecaps and tree tops along the drive.

Times like these along the river so full of insight.

 

Thank you for the ride, it’s good to be back in La Crosse.

Now Goodbye.