Posts tagged ‘Russia’

December 13, 2016

i guess i am afraid too…

i think of our fast time
when and where the fear
holds us tight, when
we tell everyone
how afraid we
are about everything
and anything, everywhere,
so vocally, so knowingly,
and how our ways only
will most likely change that fear.
then i think
about a class that
i took a few weeks back,
one of self-defense, surely,
when and where the
instructor told us all
to not be afraid
of the dark, or not
defend ourselves if we are
and we find ourselves in it.
i mean, it seems so easy,
but the basement can
be really scary, the dark alley
can be truly terrifying,
the misunderstood politician
can seem as the devil incarnate.
and then i remember
looking to outside St Paul,
out on the cold streets,
crusted in white hard snow,
alight with daybreak,
that cold that is out there
in the sun is more
dangerous to us–30 minutes and
you are dead, and that
the summer clothes hanging
in my gloomy basement are
only as scary as i make
them myself, they blow in the wind,
they touch me like shadows,
they do what i tell them
to do in my head. this is what i fear:
the irrational fear of others.
so, i guess i am afraid too…

November 20, 2014

Mislabeled Morbid (For née LB)

We live in a land of the past,
Books and pages are ways of old.

We are pieces of historic quilts,
Coming loose at the fold.

Proper prints of precious paper,
We have worshiped, day in and day out.

Those ancients come back to haunt us,
Specters float free around old house.

Preposterous monster, behold you!
So green, so vile, so askew-

Distant memories my friend, you’ve passed,
Now we make frightful light of you.


There is nothing so morbid as fearing those of the dead,
It’s with great anxiety we’ve weighted them in our head.

My father would agree,
He was agreeable.

October 2, 2014

Thoughts on Things

As children we think in terms of proximity;
Things, places, and people will never leave our side.

As adults we deal in terms of affinity,
Reading more into the subjective lives we’ve tried.

As intellects it does wonders to ask questions,
-On stories that we choose to over again and over again cite.

As consumers it’s important to exercise frugality,
Blocking ourselves from the things we want, but need not buy.

As spokespeople it proves important to create a lesson,
I want you to exist this way, and avoid becoming like that.

As human beings it’s hard to mention,
How we view the many diverse lives that cross our paths.


We are but memory, action, and experience.


Water comes from the skies,
and even bad grapes are good raisins.

July 31, 2014

Taxing Life

Life Taxing:
we sit behind walls to pay for sitting behind walls.

Wheels spin, no gas on deck,
armies fight wars waged for black gold;
these things are related.

Glass punctures and creates an escape,
you sit roadside with a flat-tire and deflated ego.

An IED blows off a soldier’s leg,
an obese man eats a sandwich and drinks a diet coke,
a beautiful young model hates her reflection; finding flaws;
a CEO makes money.

And no one knew the half.

Birds fly,
rivers flow,
a book weighs down a hand,
words play heavy on the head.

Cottonwood seeds float on thick air,
tombstones bask in the sun.
So far away no voice could reach;
even so not of native tongues.

Days we have lost and the one that just began,
my toast is burnt,
furniture sits un-rearranged.
Affects leave me unchanged;
for certain of, same, -oh distaste.

Life goes on
a cat meows
a clock ticks
the heat moves in and settles down
Fall is here.

Only this time it’s without you.
I wish I could tell you about that.

July 29, 2014

Born Again ________.

Decrepit church, ruinous cemetery lay falling round back. South Ridge, Methodist, where we used to hunt for truth, speeches of the rock, power, and how it stands- magician slight of hand. Find your rock. Abracadabra.

Weed and trees—green, shade the worn markers for comfort, rough sandstone run smooth. Grass is tended monthly- assumptions, assume.

Parishioners the few, the lot, opening doors once weekly searching for healing light, they hang on rusty hinges, comfort from solitude, a peaceful mind; AA for the lonely, hope for those who don’t put faith into science, logic, rationality… I digress, proper community of another name; a normal life, sans convent.

Half full the gold offering plate, dirty money within, spins from hand to hand, spoils of the land.

Lost place on a lost hill- so many lost souls, lost confessions spilt.

Daybreak is comfort, night warrants for want; words, movement, in the vast stillness of the Minnesotan plain. Silence falls hard as pots do from top cupboards, and down. Crash of landing draws attention, the vibrations hangs in the air for years to come. No one loses grasp of that time- never, timeless, priceless, event. Dropping flowers, tears, exhausted.

This church stands as the bow, at attention, an ancient pale white. Stern amassing casualties of life, flesh wrapped- longevity lapsed, they lacked the fight. Laying in peace, producing nothing new, save for dust when the wind blows or stirs, these vacant memories of others.

July 22, 2014

a writer engaged…

Engaging keys to dance on the screen
a sticky banged-out sort of language,
eyes flicker-flash as they register,
each finely enacted word is painted.

Sentences used decidedly, discrete-
far beyond just average meaning,
right below the incomprehensible
reading brings light day dreaming.

Realism in lines, dots, and white blank space;
page-art, satire even written in haste,
excessive save excite, readers we do invite,
the slashes and dashes become grammar’s delight.

Ah, to scribe
Ah, what for?
Ah, to be a part.
Ah, what more?

Thoughts just come, one by one;
even when lacking to grasp,
some are produced with purpose-
others just come from the ass.

It is easy to complain, but so much harder to compliment.
It is easy to say we make, but so much harder to create content.

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.
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?

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?



March 14, 2014

On the Balcony with Love (at the Kitty Cat Club)

On the Balcony with Love

By Terry Scott Niebeling


Outside of the house

Watching droplets all

They bounce up in the sun

Lit sparkling they fall


Sunlight how nice

Made an ass of self

For getting after my girl

On account of my fault


Amber transparency

Whiskey glass fixed

In a cold dark corner

Full beer can of tricks


Bikers sit in the light

Talking weather and trash

They deliver their product

They careen as they pass


Balcony noise raindrops loud

Cars go by, and up, and around

Melt snow liquid moves splashing through

University sign scrawled illuminated blue


Machine gun fire streams

They fall from above

Perspiring from the heavens

Yellow orb showing love


Sit sip this splendid thought

Read and ponder this springtime hot.

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)




Rhymed lines


Blank verse




Beer on a deck


Sunburns that hurt


Been stuck-inside-life


There’s nothing worse


Darkest before the light


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.