Posts tagged ‘wordpress’

January 18, 2018

I wonder how much #WordPress makes for these advertisements…

we are the coffee pot high marks,
cold shower goose pimples,
cold shell outdoors,
adverts between posts
machines making money, the most,
and living on piqued hopes.
i wonder where they come from?
reality attuned–or askew?
skilled in many topics,
including topics like you,
including flying to the moon,
including AC in June.
but that’s logic anyway.
still no idea really.
can’t care: too many mouths to feed.
too many days not fishing,
too many walks in the weeds.
i still see my dad in me.
haven’t visited that stone though.
like elvis, tupac, and biggie.
somewhere exotic, secret home, alone, you know.
i am cheap coffee grounds, again.
barely breakfast, usually little lunch.
no inheritance.
words between ads that don’t pay me.
but i pull for that company.
thanks wordpress.
thanks, now i care.

Advertisements
May 2, 2015

Between Wisconsin and Minnesota, an evening interstate

Here I sit, fast going on an evening interstate drive,
as all the world is turned an end-day blur.

The convertible top was dropped
as the dripping moon strutted in high heavens
to flash each blemish loved,
outline each scar deep, detailed,
a desirable waning pale—the color of a tooth ache.

Cheese curd grease and fish guts lingered in the broad smiles
of each captured moment, of each phone in hand.

Hair in the air, messed,
as familiar ghosts styled each malleable strand,
I wonder if they could smell the product on their hands.

Blue Lake came rippled shining,
bending slight the reflection of dusk’s
passing azule.

Comforting speeds blew ears quiet,
as the Chrysler’s engine hummed
at a stoplight break, loved ones in tow.

The car went as we waved to neighbors
and backyard exhibitionists.

There was a police car and prom.
There were city fires burning.
There was a quiet green village turning dark.

I am JFK,
I am in horn-rimmed luxury,
vantage,
I am sitting,
surrounded by everything that I am.

I am first world problems burdened
—too full to starve, too apathetic to cry.

An extended stomach,
a dented head,
beer burps,
and you were in Mexico playing,
as the world passed on.

April 25, 2015

wake up.

I had
only
to
wake up
to see
the
beautiful
day.

December 4, 2014

Finals in a Boat

Thick are these academic papers;
We cling to as long proved assets.
Fingers flip thru dull page after page,
Proving proclaimed righteous passage.

Moving red eyes scan this distant mote,
To grasp sought after effective note.
Hoping, praying, and prying we go,
Aspire this traveled boat always floats.

Thru vast opaque waters of fluid mind,
Much is the lacking of present time.
Having been assailed, to keep us entwined,
Confined we fret, towing endless line.

To calmer seas onward we press,
Trying challenges bested, nobly met.
To succeed; to degrees; to just pay rent-
Precious hours of our lives lost or lent.

To dock that long off nigh forgotten vessel,
To pin to chest the highest rank of glint medal.

***
See what I’ve caught? It’s called a label.

November 16, 2014

Snowscape

This Snowscape so quiet;

Not a bird,
Not a car,
Not a sound…

Whiteness covers the world,
Layering atop the frozen ground.

February 26, 2014

Amtrak’s Writer’s Residency

Amtrak

Early arrival

Intent on leaving

Small talk survival

 

Minneapolis to La Crosse

We can get lost

Step aboard

Minimal cost

 

On the no-one-will-stop-me policy

Here, showcased for the recital

They’ve caught on to me

Alert words signal my arrival

 

Life on ice,

On Mars,

How Nice,

Trains vs. Cars

 

On to where the tracks lay

Lying all the while

Spoke of being on time

Waiting hours with luggage piled.

December 8, 2013

She (We Met Up Again Tonight)

In tight black jeans that fit me perfectly;

White pills distract with connect the dots.

 

Downtown pale steam-filled air hangs overhead;

Presently cold defines hot.

 

-3 PBR’s and 2 American Spirits später.

 

I wait for my girl to get back home.

 

Suddenly, standing patient at The Light Rail station:

-Seems like ages,

-So many changes.

Our ears and lips occupied our phones.

 

Sit seat to the airport in heat, up, afoot, breath absorbed, as I walk forward thru open doors all alone.

-One step at a time in leather boots brown.

-Hurriedly getting aboard.

 

Looking around, there’s not much for people tonight.

A Monday, a frigid display of days to come, an opposite glance of the summer moments we’ve come to love.

-Ubiquitous dim light.

 

This ding-ding-ding sound as the dated capsule closes, and lurches forward.

 

Exploring diverse sorts,

Touching tender sores to feel more,

Rich to poor-it matters not anymore.

-Much amore.

 

Thoughts race:

Will she be late?

Will she forget the date?

Has she run off to explore?

 

Peace to war,

Snooze to bore,

We meet open arms to embrace, a feel-good support.

 

-Playing with you, fair friend.

Momentary heavy thoughts fill my head.

 

People complain about the relationships they’re in.

That is because they are not really in one.

They have not the strength to come to terms and begin one.

 

Self-respect means being honest with oneself, truly-without a doubt.

An old math teacher once told me, “If it works, it’s gotta be right.” *

We met up again tonight.

 

*Mr. Limberg

March 17, 2013

Note Club

A List of shit in my Pocket-

 

Trying to be the oldest person alive.

If you’re not doing something you’re doing nothing right.

 

June Bugs, May Flies, life happens, people try.

DO.

 

Bring:  2 button-ups, a pair of pants, 2 pairs of socks, and a pair of contacts.

-And $500.00 personal burial money.

 

I dishwash, I hardly drink.  I speak then I think.

I don’t smoke weed, my logic’s not flawed.

I am just in love.  This is like Disney Land.

I hardly try.

I like it raw.

 

Into The Toilet,

Into The Trash,

By Terry Scott Niebeling, on mplsscene, on WordPress.

Kiss my ass.

 

Snow falling like flowers from a mantle place.

In these photos I will always be at my mother’s house.

 

ON MY GIRL:

She’s Post Irony, I’m Post Awesome.

Alpha male, alpha fail.

My shit’s fresh, your shit’s stale.

My words are like flowers, they blossom, petals flail.

 

I come part broken-hearted outspoken mixed-feelings absolution skin-peeling hot-emotion, that’s a portion of how I am feeling, so let’s get an abortion.

I am all transpire and little chance by happenstance.

More poetry, fiction, prose, and words than those who don’t try, so take a walk, so don’t talk, or try to fly, or get lost.

Who knows?

 

And I tell them…

How a business falls apart:

-Customers

-Employee/MGMT Relations

-Passion/Attitude

-Reality

-Glory with no Responsibility (MGMT)

 

How a Fight Club starts:

Get T.P.

 

Plant on Bonham’s son on drums.

 

The unemployment line will be easily found, its easily one of the longest lines in town.

Where will they go when one goes down?

Will they budge ahead or crowd around?

We are all hungry.

 

Other works; some plight.

We don’t need jobs as much as we need respect.

 

Empty Batteries.

I have done everything.

I run on everything.

And there is a piece of paper that says I have an Associates Degree on something.

I threw it all away and have nothing.

I am set free, how lovely.

More Notes:

Underlining the red words of God.  She sits head stuck to the pages.  A red, blue, and white striped shirt clings taught to her chest; all American everything, and Christianity sits in her lap.  She packs her belongings and exits near Lake St.  What an interesting subject to watch while enjoying mass-transit. 

From False-Positive with Aids and back.

The Okcupid upgrade guarantees you at least 12 more mediocre fucks than expected.

Set up a Jeffrey Dahmer profile on Match.com.