Friday, December 19, 2014

"i call you now to tell you i'm thinking of you"

Here is a poem I wrote a while back. I read T.S. Eliot and play violent video games. Fuck you!

“fallout: new vegas staedy”

shifty eyed. but without calculations
just out from under the overpass
i sat and stared forward
cigarette in hand or mouth, i was a little high
as i remember i happily thought:
this is how i must feel when i’m asleep
some things surprise like pay phones
they muffle and shuffle
just on the edge of the periphery
tremble and mutter and then appear
as if without warning, but never a sharp shock
impermanent,  unlike the water
which never wavers as i sit and smoke and stare
it is steady, i am not

if only love could be steady
not fraught with frail inadequacies
but if it didn't need taking care  of
it wouldn't hold any value
the things we push to protect
are the things that sustain us

not the steady pulse of the river
but the heartbeat of a lover
when she lays her head on my chest
i forget about my sorrow
i forget about the water, i forget about my pen
but when i pick that up
i do so only to exalt her

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

"i saw you from that second story window"

It's been a while, but here is something new. I wrote it on a bus, on my way to buy weed. I was thinking about a conversation I had had with a girl the previous evening. We were talking about tense (really nerdy, I realize) and she kept using the word "tension" instead. It intrigued me. That's where it started, but then it gets weird, I have ideas, I think I know what it's about but nothing I want to elaborate on.

in regards to
tense and tension
we all need
a little help

never this quiet
we play out past lives
recount past lovers
plan future love affairs too

when you whisper
like a blanket
i am conformed
and comforted

when i whisper
like a blanket
you are comforted
and condemned

spend some time apart
we will think
future thoughts, rainbow metaphors
tensions giving in

if you return
i might be here
think of words

and how i will use them 

Thursday, July 17, 2014

"the way that you look at me now/makes me wish i was you""

Poem I wrote on the walk home tonight, fully edited, any typos are intentional. 


i make up, and loose
small poems, martyrs to the cause
to make up for the lines
i can save, pin to paper

here's where we're at, kids
we're stuck on poetry
my brain melts, it
gets stuck, it
 gets lusting after words 
when should go whistlin' after women

a treaty, a soft savior, a begging
please stop the goddamn, god
i barely write seventeen lines, and, thems are awful
too damn high and too damn hot
i sweat, and i stumble, i juggle and i pop
my poetics get mangled, i'm a shambles
but i'm always getting better, you can maybe watch

Monday, April 14, 2014

"Maybe the morning air will make me feel better/Oh, I hope better than I feel right now"

New poem I wrote on my phone on a bus last week. 


book of my life
there have been valuable contributors
fuck the poetry
there are those i could have done without

ah but you don't mean that
i mean  every word i say
you should not believe a word i say

base ideas come from instincts
we should not struggle to be higher, we should obey
oh, but this is foolish, this is nuisance

i clutter, or i ember
i brave or i fade
i encumber

aloof, freedom from oblivion
a loss for words, not for thoughts
we look forward

we crowd in our courage and discrepancies and conundrums
we soothe to be happy
fraught  dissipates
ourselves, just ourselves

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

"drove yourself here so you might as well stay" "Colors don't change when your life is strange"/Go Hawks

 This is an odd one.I very much feel like I had to wrestle this poem into being, but at the same time it felt very natural, like it came into existence almost fully formed. I just had to prune it a bit, adjust the grammar, show it how to wear its makeup.. The stories told here are almost 100% true.. that isn't something that happens very often. Enjoy. Go Hawks.

"winter (football, fallout)"

a crowd gathered outside a bar
to watch a football game
this was beauty
there was love and hope
this was my city at its finest

a week earlier, game before
a girl, we broke, she drove me home
through the audacity of post-game traffic
we were trapped, so we talked
honesty at last

i told her “life is compromise”
she said “maybe that’s why we can’t work”
i shrugged, offered to get out
she concurred, i obliged
grabbed my bag, went into the street, focused and unsmiling

these incidents were connected
by something i’m normally indifferent to
football season dies as winter limps into its climax
i’m dreading fallout
but praying for celebration