Posts tagged ‘Songs’

December 17, 2017

Breaking News is Tragic Theatre, bring Popcorn

While the world is ending
supposedly (every day now per whoever…)
i want to eat pizza and cheese curds,
drink fresh water and OJ and
watch the Vikings win in real time
and dream about good weather. SUch Fantasy.
Weekends are dead before they begin anyway.
Pounding words into a strange keyboard morning,
hacking lifeblood into some toilet.
I thought antibiotics would help.
I thought the inhaler would help.
Telling me there is bigger problems
for people who aren’t me, damn.
but when you shut off the TV there aren’t
very many to remember, recalling,
so why would I want it to remind me so?
We play cards against humanity.
We want fair but fair ain’t that great.
And we put the seat up out of respect.
We ask for scandal because it interests,
stake our claims on being
taken for fools, look see: news. Buy this new thing.
Tell her you love her with consumerism.
All while the world is ending.
Can a person resign from this animal planet?
I am selling my whole life to make ends meet.
tho maybe they don’t want to.
paying medical bills and insurance simultaneously to no avail.
One bag, drill, shoe, tent, book at a time.
This channel will tell me all about all
the problems I should focus on today, because.
Still some people just die in traffic.

December 16, 2014

a city shell (and individuals)

Fleeting acquaintance which grew like trash
As each fickle feigned word exchange passed,
Few thoughts ring true while coming through
Comprise this changing layered bunch of you.

November 25, 2014

Little Bird (On such a Violent Day)

Side-walk bare-
A thin bird lands,

Picking through crumbs,
With its beak,
While a moment later
It takes to fast air.

No sex, no gender, no opinion, no chaos… no care to compare.

This feathered,
Dark-speckled fuzz-ball;
Natural, not from test-tube,
Sweet sounding creature just is, -true.

Picking up
Hopping round;
Scrounging for what
Lie on the ground.

-Concerned only with its food.

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.