Posts tagged ‘thoughts’

September 14, 2018

inheritance, of no one locks their doors in the Apple Capital of Minnesota and i learned all the important things in life in kindergarten

apple crisps so good,
and you can easily make
them with what you have at your
house. that is what my
mother said walking the hall.
that night we sat and
ate ice cream and viewed a 1995
Louis M. Martini Merlot and
a Montague Dawson. i found an
heirloomed Seiko on my arm.
still love the Casio tho…
found us watching Seinfeld again.
made calls yesterday for freedom. found
a teacher i had learned everything in life
from has cancer in a delayed line at
a grocery story, by happenstance, caused by me:
Kwik Trip ran out of Applefest buttons,
well the liquor store ran out first…
no one pointed me in the right
direction, but her. that was ’94
that was a long time ago.
new favorite phrase: i am responsible.
i thought she would cry.
we hugged and wished each other best.
Hokah and 20 years ago is not far away.
i walked through a parking lot
in mourning sun, to a phone call of
being late and wondered how the
beer was in the car seat.
remembered finding coins with Xiong around here.
nothing gets stole in this town.
they leave the doors unlocked.
still no one lives forever.
except that river over there.

***
YOU can contribute to keep my site free to all. Any support is greatly appreciated!

TSN_

Donate at: https://www.paypal.me/TSNiebeling

Advertisements
September 13, 2018

Mac Miller and Donald Trump and Lil Pump and Theories, they are all good to some, and not.

Hello.  Do you consider yourself a helpful person? If so, consider donating to keep the poetry on my site free to all. Any amount helps, even a penny. Thanks!

PS: WordPress does NOT pay me for the ads you see all over this page, they make money off of my writing through these advertisements.  I don’t receive a dime.  So anything truly helps.  🙂 

Keep this site free!

Donate at: https://www.paypal.me/TSNiebeling

***

we can safely say
that Donald Trump DEFINITELY caused
the hurricane–and every other problem in our lives,
set to possibly strike, today.
(Right?! I feel that is what the news is telling me…)
that’s a real sentence, like the news:
allegedly, possibly, here’s my opinion: fact-checked.
tell your Facebook friends in real life about it.
at the same time, in real time,
i ponder revenues and gains
of crises and who pays for the news about possibilities.
(that’s one aspect of an event and objectively real.)
i ponder what if it doesn’t happen?
(i am an economist. a fiscalist. a realist. a human.)
surplus: like gas for escaping.
surplus: like lumber to board up windows.
surplus: like food and supermarket staff…
surplus: of water and winds and clouds, as reported.
petrol to move product to get to you.
.. then again, other tragedy, Mac Miller died, heard a story.
now, i want to start a podcast
called conspiracy theory dad or responsible millennial parent,
get artist before i die… “he wrote this and that.” “Amazing.”
but everyone has a podcast.
everyone makes music and writes words.
everyone is political scientist ready to expound.
everyone is a progressive poet, #RESIST.
everyone is Facebook famous.
everyone is a human being and the same.
everyone has bad days and is at times sad and wrong.
my dad died. i believed in debt. labels define me daily.
told i would never. told i couldn’t. i did.
no matter what i do, anyway, it’s because of how i look.
maybe become a Christian again. maybe.
i believe everyone is good and can achieve if they believe
until they leave. but Mac Miller today.
he filmed a video in a coffin a while back, alive.
self-fulfilling prophecy has him there now still inside.
he wrote a song about Donald Trump, the president,
causing storms and Stormy Daniels news, and pointed views,
read Wikipedia about it on accident a day or so ago.
nothing new, like history.
wow, that all means nothing to me.
wow, that all means something to me.
it’s not like paying debt or working hard or having a plan.
not being involved with consumer debt and ads in the news.
they get you to buy, get you to buy into it…
present an event, present an option to buy, present why.
or, it’s not like
making a sandwich or changing a diaper or getting screamed at.
it’s like asking for a handout and
expecting it as if we were (fill in the blank).
this poem sucks, no potential, and Lil Pump sells millions, fuck!
i am happy for him though, he seems happy too.
he doesn’t cause storms and is alive.

***

Hello.  Do you consider yourself a helpful person? If so, consider donating to keep the poetry on my site free to all. Any amount helps, even a penny. Thanks!

PS: WordPress does NOT pay me for the ads you see all over this page, they make money off of my writing through these advertisements.  I don’t receive a dime.  So anything truly helps.  🙂 

Keep this site free!

Donate at: https://www.paypal.me/TSNiebeling

September 3, 2018

A Major News Network’s Usage of Facts as Commentary to Describe What Everybody already Knew about Trump with Numbers & Percentages & Words, you know, meh… etc.

“Everybody knows
the news of the red-hot Trump
economy: Quarterly growth at 4.2 percent
(the average under
Obama: 1.6 percent)
Unemployment is bouncing around record lows. The overall rate
is 3.9 percent,
and in May of this year, it hit
an 18-year-low 3.8 percent—
and the lowest rate ever recorded
for black Americans.” – cbsnews

***

Hello.  Do you consider yourself a helpful person? If so, consider donating to keep the poetry on my site free to all. Any amount helps, even a penny. Thanks!

PS: WordPress does NOT pay me for the ads you see all over this page, they make money off of my writing through these advertisements.  I don’t receive a dime.  So anything truly helps.  🙂 

Keep this site free!

Donate at: https://www.paypal.me/TSNiebeling

September 2, 2018

let our government fix all of your problems for you, because it can if you believe it can, believe, you pay for it

“Minnesota has a progressive income tax with rates that are among the highest in the nation. Property and sales taxes are also above average.” –smartasset.com

***

i want more officials voted into office who want me to do better for me by me, through hard work.
that said, bigger things dont
necessarily mean better things, plainly.

my mom says dont help.

(i dont want to be labeled or seen as unusable–i have hands, feet, & a head, like most.)

more bloat, more unhinged, more confusion, thanks Chuck Todd… And CNN… Their ads…  
my television and your Facebook tells us so.  gives me something to fear about today.

QUICK look over there:
more taxes, more need for unnecessary, IT’S necessary–we make it so, so…

but come November forget what we charge you to be in charge of you and remember to vote to look good not feel good.

(i think i can do anything, or most things, when i think i can do those things.  irregardless of production or support. )

still throwing money at something
without a plan is still throwing money
at something without a plan still: blue solutions = bigger institutions.

when you fail to plan, you plan to fail, so many have said.

i want local politicians to stop talking
and stop taxing and stop spending on special interest and change
the size of the potholes on my Midway block,
change the size of my American made pockets and pocketbook to bigger, and less empty.

(i have a goal and lists and chores that could use it. :))

yet many worry about how someone in a white house might do something that the media says is such and such and that is not good, you must obey that thought and act on it without question…  but it probably wont happen. very unsure..

you know the guy down the street in charge of the town wants to have you pay him more money, right?  his buddies up the way want to gather more bucks from you to give as gifts in their honor to their voters to keep them in charge…  you pay for that probably.

tho maybe your tax dollar flies overseas
for things you dont believe.
tho maybe those taking have unknown friends
with no sight of the end. IDK.

could use space, could us paper with faces on it as well to better my community, my yard, my rental, my commitment, my family, my potholes–like the ones i give you.

i want to change my life for better every day–i try,
with every dollar of my time it takes, then those
around me will be better themselves too,
with their time the same. just good old fashion trial and error.

i have a plan.  plans…
capitalist for hours and minutes, optimizing my abilities and resources.
even if one is anger or disdain or confusion.

could drag just about anyone and their name through the mud.
that’s easy. thoughts of what was.

and usually when i ask for handouts it’s into a mirror with silent facial expressions,
usually i can find crumbs, water, and hope.

usually when i ask for handouts i dont ask, i ask but it’s remote.

So here:
Do you consider yourself a helpful person? If so, consider donating to keep the poetry on my site free to all. Any amount helps, even a penny. Thanks! 🙂

Donate at: https://www.paypal.me/TSNiebeling

August 25, 2018

believe in you

you can craft a life better now, think, you.
no excuses, no fair, no perfection, nothing at all.
no history too much for we animals.  today.  yes.

hard work every day, daily.  grind. all. moments.
sharp, clear compass.  fast, go, fly. weightless.
no obstacle not fragiled to dust.  bridges do fall.

when we believe.  believe in you. now. now. now.

***

Do you consider yourself a helpful person? If so, consider donating to keep the poetry on my site free to all. Any amount helps, even a penny. Thanks! 🙂

Donate at: https://www.paypal.me/TSNiebeling

May 17, 2018

through the motions

clouds caught in a jigsaw fashion
over the maple tree rise, beyond the fence
along the way, red wagon trail pulling.
i think of daycare fraud and student debt and animal crackers.
i guess i don’t know really.
i think i can’t say things so i forget.
a million blades of grass cut, pollen & dust.
water bottles refilled to save water bottles.
for convenience, not ad hoc ideology.
coffee of yesterday in today’s to-dos.
sun hot, wet and warm pre-storm;
maelstrom malaise, sorted parts going lost.
i see officials officially not officiating.
i restored the compost for repast.
they invited me to lunch but i pass.
shadowy secrets figuratively are literally not really there.
grapefruits are very hard and sticky to peal.
i ate my juice and some sliced toast with my son.
saw language appear in a mouth of not two.
saw laze appear in the days not through.
unbelievable, like the sun like in 2002.
dad was alive and well telling me he was invincible.
i have not yet visited his grave since he occupied it.
i couldn’t believe my eyes anyway.
woke up from a daydream staring hard, hardly awake.
stuck in a room where lights go out and walls are bleak.
put on the speaker phone and
made a date for some building with a money name,
made time i didn’t have it wasn’t mine.
thought about not writing for some reason.
thought about why it mattered.

April 27, 2018

3A then up como to st albany

… the 3A stop then
over washington i float
from under
a bridge, light rail
lights spark ultraviolet purple.
winding away from it all.
Mississippi spiral java white foam below.
crackle, hum, bump, buzz. thump.
transit lines like veins spreading to midway limbs.
i head away to daycare near a lake.
crowds by the fair grounds, police waving traffic.
to a stray dog in a parking lot,
sniffing at trash, people with odd stares.
maybe not stray, wears a collar.
calling to say i made it, where are you?
we are talking of Oswald and weather,
“…they said it was supposed
to rain today, but it’s clear
over here.” Yeah, there’s a cloud
over my head, no melancholy intended.

i always say i am starving.
it’s a good way to lose weight to stay in shape.
phone to my face. that dog barked.
i jumped, embarrassment, scaredy cat.
i walked to the back entryway door.
opened it. read the letters stuck with tape.
smelled of diapers and lotion and food.
a church now a school, then dark, very.
same thing. same thing. same thing.
then we all met and left.
in the shadow at that stop back there.
before i left i thought:
i take the 3A now, not the light rail.

April 21, 2018

(welcome to minnesota) how to talk about what is important

while many are out
protesting gun violence
and the moronic, petulant
politicians
that they hate for their hatred (irony),
transit workers are being
beaten in the streets to silence,
Minnesota families are being taxed
beyond belief to silence,
and social media is acting big brother to silence.
i am not sure that we all hear.
but you don’t
care, and you are there.
go fund me about it.
go start some new petition.
go join a herd of same.
i have too truly.
it is my true duty.

February 12, 2018

point the finger

the tragedy of our misadventure
begins when we blame others
for where we stand now.

January 20, 2018

some new problems came up on the 16 bus, so did you think the snow was bad, tell me what you think about the weather and the Vikings games i need to forget everything else and pretend everything is awesome…

snow out the window sinks
tightens and stretches
like the budget that we forgot to mention.
a 16 bus floats down University avenue,
Green Line aside; all the bars i can’t visit.
man behind the wheel says peek-a-boo
and hello and hey and whistles.
“i’ll stay inside for the Superbowl,”
but it’s triple overtime i think, line the pocketbook.
guy who doesn’t pay the fare: he looks like you!
i know, i love it and smile to my self.
in a basement studio with no meaning.
in a basement studio language, meaning, lofty.
to Aldi for diapers pickles and popcorn.
no more phone, calls on Google Home.
what if god was one of us? just a sloth like one of us.
2018 tragedies carried over from last year and the 90s.
i want to be bob dylan, i want everyone to love me.
everybody wants to be cats. dance the silence…
that’s just about as funky as you can be.
still the tears pile up.
they are puddles piled as metaphors high as the sky.
some other poet could write it better probably.
one thing goes wrong, next a million.
who isn’t tired, who isn’t trying their best?
no worries though, budgeting.
never been on a better diet, 3 notches in my belt.
grow muscle, grow bitter about society, lose weight: dad diet.
friends wives call to sell health, well…
tell the ads to go to hell.
we literally can’t afford to buy anything right now, for years.
AND i thought we were friends?
new phone, sorry who is this, i lost your number again…
shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
the snow sinks and turns to brown water.
all thoughts of fall and crisp leaves and warm sleeves.
please help me make the rent so i
can make the daycare so i can teach English
and get 7 on reviews when i need a 10
and their internet is at fault, shithole internet.
i wonder if it is mine and speed test and it’s fine.
project Fi treats me like a child.
i am blue davy dee davy da… blue.
my bank treats me like indentured servitude.
then reading memos on fact-based privilege.
tell me more about me that i don’t know about me.
the way i go, i am a pale robot, i am a terminator.
with emotions, with new days, between oceans.
the way i go i talk about the snow.