do you see?
Free Local Midwestern Poetry, By Terry Scott Niebeling
do you see?
Take all chances.
Do things that others tell you not to do.
Do what you think is right.
Prepare yourself for a career you enjoy from experience.
Labels and titles do not matter.
Always be present and visible.
Believe in yourself, really.
Have a passion for what you are interested in.
Always, always be early.
And think positive.
i duly note that dashed dreams
and commonplace tragedies
are not exclusive to any party
in particular whatsoever;
though after, it’s about picking
oneself up, though after, it’s
about how you crawl from
your imminently destined grave.
Sitting, eyeing, on the green line east
at pull of rubber band force
from automatic closed doors,
this way going fast to St. Paul,
reading pulp & fodder & reviews–
rain taxi on such a fine day, muse,
truth as the second coming, we assume,
alone as this newborn child is,
before our welcome birthing days…
And these bells only go buzz
their purposeful bing accord,
and the hipsters trend all over
Twitter and Facebook storyboards,
and I read “Dessa”: as one name,
I am not too big to make real art,
hard looks and fresh lemon bitter.
I am here between twin cities
futzing with the magazine innards
tonguing sore mouth blisters
trying to find a schedule to go on mr…
Stories of contrast black and white
waiting on bleak blue dinged seats
and this line rolls along green,
in pale hot bright summer sun seen,
malaise in my stomach sits–pits,
Snelling, Hamlin, and Lexington,
sour as such sordid sentiment,
I bike to some new on old hopes
to pay cash for a tin roof owned,
I hope it’s not too far, still sitting,
still watching, waiting, thinking:
Do people really think they are fooling
anyone waiting at the scanner’s
edge to run up on the station
without paying the correct fare?
O, bad actors must have just forgot,
the commuter theatre is free today.
i am sick of
turn your eyes
are going shut
are being drawn
not even my
29 years ago I arrived here today.
That’s really all that happened…
I came to this earth 29 years ago—
descended (literally) from my mother,
And I am still right here now today;
I am still just arriving and stuff,
But only 29 years has come to pass,
Seasons and time go, slowly away.
a million people
a million excuses
only to find
in the first place
is for others
i am bad
and staying put
rocks, and uncared
for plants, a
lamps of the
new day calling,
child of the week,
but nothing to do,
monday is gone.
Tuesday is here.
and we go at
in the week
we pretend it’s
it’s really not.
the real deal,
the very second.
alive, here it is.
next day taken away.