Posts tagged ‘obama’

July 21, 2014

Noble Inquiry

Gatorade and Smokes,
MH-17 and Jokes;
People die,
Rebels lie,
And this concept seems remote.

Just ask CNN my friend.
you know they know, you know.
Stateside,
Lounging poolside,
Just hoping these floaties float.

Peace is always an option,
I think about this as I laze in the sun.
Long day
Hot ways
Realize the damage that’s been done

: Sunburn.

***

Revelation: Gatorade is for athletes and alcoholics.
Noble Inquiry: How many atheists fight in religious wars?

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March 21, 2014

Conscious Continued

On the State Level:

What is Freedom without Oppression?

 

Sunday liquor sales we don’t mention

Exclusive capital through resource retention

Taking the environment without apprehension

Marijuana is off the books because opiates pay pensions

 

Then we walk with hanging heads

Then we eat what we’ve been fed.

***

Paper collection friendships

Corporations part of a faceless community

But they have our president’s holy graces*

Existence thriving in high places so astutely

 

Their tree bearing tainted fruit

That is only being eaten by the ignorant and aloof.

 

***

As I am:

 

Taking the bus to work

Wearing same dirty old shirt

While not putting on airs

Not pretending unawares

 

Liars hold more account on the politician’s ear

Forsaken bent sinewy grotesque and clear, yet standing tall they still appear.

 

***

The trains roll through the station

But my Amtrak is late

Here’s to frack mines devastation

The passengers will wait

 

This one has been delayed

On to better days

Money rolls in, they can’t differentiate

But we must remain

 

Priorities not for minorities

A lesson in disgrace

Haven’t read the history

But what’s important before today’s date?

 

One could tell a story

And call it reality too

One could fly a sign

In hopes of attaining food

 

Desk sit forty hours

No wonder why I’m rude

Don’t count the flowers

Straighten up that rebellious attitude

 

That’s all.

 

This is local-

They appear global-

 

What about America?

What about global hysteria?

 

*Currency

October 14, 2013

What if I Shut Down?

What if I Shut Down?

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

What if I shut down?

 

The world will go on with or without me.

Those I’ve let down will no longer frown or doubt me.

Most will believe as they renounce my legacy with glee,

And pull apart what defense surrounds me.

 

What if I shut down?

 

Where you stand won’t change hands,

All will move about free.

 

What if I shut down?

 

Don’t mind the voice (barking television bobble-heads).

End the Fed, they say, but how can you kill what is already dead?

…  We just have to smell the rotting flesh, ready the grave, and off with its head!

 

What if I shut down?

 

This is post-logical, history for news, as they struggle, argue, blame, conclude, and abuse.

Others research, read, and consume truth.

 

What if I shut down?

 

We all sound the same to ourselves.

Are we all fools?

Do we play by the rules?

 

Who is in charge of the pens and papers?

Who is teaching this and that in the schools?

 

True to form, honest doubt;

Questions we have within, and without.

 

I can’t believe such thoughts and ideas compounding, likewise confounding, without viable and realistic results.

But don’t worry, I won’t ask you to cite your source, and to be fair, I won’t ask myself.

 

What if I shut down?

 

I am not like Uncle Sam; he is more indebted than I.

He is not like me; I have unfiltered eyes.

 

What if I shut down?

 

I will be depressed and broke and still move forward in a more positive way.

In my best attempts I try to hide my remorse, of course.

I see a vast life of possibilities on the blank page, but they can’t even come to an office on the same day to make change.

October 22, 2012

Thoughtful Drones

I love you more than I trust Western Medicine:

Lay in the waste.

Take note of the wreckage…

Relate to what you’ve witnessed with minimal discretion.

 

I hate the job that makes one question fate:

Advised to resign or die, or ride on the side just to get by.

We all get along, and then we are all gone.

 

I like the way things sound when the meaning is found:

Back, bi-language, tri-language, trite paralinguistic remarks; physically aimless, tainted, fit and smart.

Ageless claiming to be famous, rolling their eyes.

 

Tell them to fuck off.

 

I dislike the feeling of ummmm, ahhhh, things change…

Better known as my better half-there’s like 50, and 50 more wishing, so I will speak on their behalf.

Get a raft and 2 paddles, only joking…

 

Hit the gravel, I’ve been stolen

And broke,

and sold to someone across the ocean.

 

Care to follow?

 

I am indifferent to the rubble that builds up in the back.

Trash-talk bins full, you can see them through the window.

Its the truth, its fact.

 

I would stop and look to find the bottom of the bottle, but there is too much shit to get into,

-so I just swallow, rules of the model.

 

I am different to the same.

We are all the same in the fact that we are different.

 

The light seems to be dim though;

The ideas seem to be diminished.

And then its finished.

 

There are no definitive features on the face of society, only a blur of melting pot steam.  

Seems we have all lost a lot, seems we are all bursting at the seams.  

 

I see it.

Agree?

 

 

October 12, 2012

AM Minneapolis (Before Five in the Morning)

Shaken from slumber by the semblance of an early morning dance.

The darkside of a lunar wane exposed; the heavens stretch forever as our necks bend to accommodate our vantage.

 

Scratched backs, cars drive by as I imagine their muffled sound in the future snows.

They remind me of thoughts from the past.

 

Black but blue, the shades of everything at this time seem new.

Coffee is a distant thought, breakfast is truly morning food at this time, moments are lost.

It is before 5 am and I do rule this city.

Boss.

 

All is fleeting faster in the vast darkness.

I ride down Franklin thoughts of yelling Powerderhorn, or Southside!

 

She says I need brighter bike lights, she doesn’t mention my intellect.

Off to support, the girls, the ladies, the babies.

 

We don’t know, she can’t go.

She did.

 

Met yesterday and spent the night in it.

Met yesterday near Chicago as she exited the bus.

 

Looked for a blond, but I found a brunette.

Surprise-surprise.

 

Minnesota desolate, again, the end of summer hinting of fall and enlightenment.

Leaves stripped from trees to come, forgetting of the heat, lying in the slum.

Pulling the AC out as if removing a splinter.

Ready for winter.

 

From before, I stand in front of her door on the sidewalk as she rides away.

Days are number, I guess that is true for all of us.

 

Getting along like no other, forgetting reality as lovers.

Good food and good preparation, the beauty of aggression transpired temptation…

No agitation.

 

Few on bike, some with heads down, a couple of nods.

Most are nodded off.

 

People walking, small talk, sharing little light and little thought.

The cool breeze reminds me of my thoughtfulness as I pull out a coat.

 

Certainly we must think ahead.

Or think again.

Or we just don’t.

 

He and she look for release, coming back from vacation I sit down and listen with patience.

I realize everything I need is here, I suppose that is anywhere and everywhere I go.

 

She says I am so one sided, I tell her I just don’t see it that way.

 

My thoughts run, a week ago my thoughts menaced my days.

No more tears, just happiness for what is near.

 

She left and came back, like the bird with the olive branch, like that story about a dove.

Life happens, but when it happens think less hate and more love.

 

This summer is naught only for loss, like live and let go.

I built a fire on the beach, I came to drunk on your porch while you kissed me.

However, you know.

 

Those  stars we saw earlier  that day next to the moon were Jupiter and Venus.

 

Momma’s got the squeeze-box and Daddy never sleeps at night.

You had me singing Here Comes the Sun before day break.

 

You were my guide, leading me to the bus with frosted windows on the journey home.

You sat in the grass smoking cigarettes in the sun, while milling over my finances and telling me everything would be okay.

 

Daily thoughts are of you.

That is how I make my way.

October 1, 2012

A Modern Fix (Anti-depressants)

Going to the Asian store to buy Mexican food.

Bled through so much I had to change the sheets to hide clues.

 

That’s honest.

A Daily allotment of rotten.

 

***

 

Smashing magnets outside to build a positive connection.

Fragments stuck to the hammer’s metal.

 

Yelling at the television inside due to lack of attention.

Another form of socially unsettled.

 

Real Sunday and Monday.

Real Blurred together.

 

Sore voice prevention, too late for reception.

 

Book 101, open to see words, to take a look.

Lying in bed, I hear birds.

Lying in bed alone, I feel discouraged.

 

Searching the tiny details-reading precisely; slowly like a snail to prevail over fail nightly…

 

Leaves left to the street make me ponder.

Line, sinker, and hook.

 

Why bother?

 

Floating away on the wind again, my mind wonders.

Turning to dirt and fodder.

 

(On Anti-depressants)

 

Who tells you about your problems?

And who sells the pills that solve them?

 

Is it the same person?

Is it urgent?

 

Be the judge.

 

We learn, then moments later amnesia.  Diseased, these are just answers to please.

Prescription rather than Environmental Therapy.

All that stuff really isn’t scaring me.

 

Apparently, all problems are clear to see.

 

Bio-feed like biology:

I fix me.  You fix you too.

True.  True.

Who knew?

I guess we all just grew.

 

Now, turn off the news and strap on some shoes, you psycho.

🙂

 

 

 

August 23, 2012

Sleep Apnea

If you want to see me, come see me-

A lot of people do.

 

Wake up, breakfast; another day in tattered shoes, and food.

Another day to not be rude.

Another day to choose.

 

Choices challenge…

 

My mind rooted to traffic.

Oh, the sights are graphic.

-The detailed movement of people, places, and things.

 

Stop-light…

 

Finding relaxation on idea, dismissing all fear.

 

And life…

 

Life sits on a balance; feast or famine.

Embraced or abandoned.

Picked-up or stranded.

 

We get along…

 

Did you get the cash transfer?

Oh, it doesn’t matter.

Plastered, drunk again, searching for answers to pastures and grandeur; to meeting loved ones in the hereafter.

 

What a life…

 

Yet, I sit with this coffee and this debt.

Breathing easy, calming-exercise to get the weight off my chest.

Half-spent in thought.

 

She says I must have done something bad in my past to wake from my sleep like that.

I tell her nothing.

-Don’t worry.

 

She says, “Yeah, I know you.”

“So why do you sleep with me?”

“It feels safe.”

 

Pink pigment, like piglet.

I detest, not embarrassed, but I rest when she rests without regret.

Hiding stress under her dress.

 

This mess is structured…

 

My eyes take it in.  

 

We just met and she is bent-

While I keep it straight forward.

 

No time to wonder.

As she nears the border.

 

***

 

In a state of stating a statement…

 

I woke to yawn.

 

 

 

August 16, 2012

Seasons Change/Lost Artists

We don’t get made we get mad.

We don’t get sad we forget.

We don’t get lonely we upload.

We don’t get even we just sit.

 

Preposterously angst-y flannel coated, fake hat over heady miss-matched brains, out of touch so much.

The 90’s called.

So much.

So much.

Just don’t touch me.

 

Driving us to pains- to pass out.

 

Pulling fingernail with tooth, fighting hand over fist.

Breaking it loose for blood to spit.

Something is amiss.

Eating good.

Shit.

 

Economically fucked, economically sound-Minneapolis;

-Entrepreneurs of the 2012 great depression; a making-it-happen obsession.

We bounce back, and they hire those who have not learned the lesson.

 

We talk a lot, but we don’t do much about it.

-We talk a lot, and we mean it.

 

Flying a sign on Franklin, or Lyndale, Or Downtown.

 

Figuring an accurate positive slogan…

Give me a moment…   Give me a moment…

 

A deal is a deal, I am fired if I am late.

I show up at 8.

I work the day.

I go home with a headache and nothing to show.

My rent does not go down like the girls I know.

 

Slumped in chair, pit of despair.

But I’m smilin’, not faking about it.

Not like the others.

 

We don’t have it so bad.

 

Where minimum wage gets you laid and keeps you out of the cold.

(It could just be the writing.)

Stockings hang to dry because the dryer costs a quarter more than budget.

 

Where minimum wage gets you tossed into the public.

We talk proper to out do the others in the lower class.

(They still ask for me at the bar.)

 

I come from fancy trailer in a valley in Houston County, to hanging out alone downtown in an alley.

To fashioned atop the flashiest bike you’ve ever seen in your life.

To rocking a knife-about to stab you with it.

 

I’ve met beggars, squatters,

Straights, and thieves.

 

But what I get out of all of this is the sleep I absolutely need.

 

And we all get:

Just precious boredom.

People just not trying.

Everything sounds the same.

 

Except for Lying.

Except for Lying.

 

Life is so much fun!

 

And most ask:

If I wasn’t surrounded by dumb people how would that make me look?

I guess the lack of entertainment around me makes me more interesting?

 

Praise to those interesting few.

Praise to those who try and remain on top of their game.

 

We have education, time, ambition, and creativity, but what we lack is heart.

I see it everyday Downtown.  I see it everyday walking around.

Lost Artists.