Posts Tagged Poems

Was I at Denny’s with her One Time?

Baby brown booth,

you staring, then shouts

tell me you

hate me; my

mother hates me, shows me I’m

shit living badly.

.

 

, , , , , , , ,

2 Comments

America 2017, #11

Floating dead,

bending bridges and

organs, sing,

my friend of

your loss of all that was good,

and come back full brown.

.

20170315_170742.jpeg

Carl’s amateur dystopian photography – Fort Smith, Arkansas

.

 

, , , , , ,

Leave a comment

A Moment, Knowing I Had Wasted My Life

A rock in

garden, looking for

plants to kiss

but being

locked to uncaring clays and

sick, little orange bugs

, , , , , ,

2 Comments

Before, Then After Dali

Persistence

needed for calm survival,

maddening

dreams haunting

our false loves, clean peace, and death

steals our new purpose.

.

the-persistence-of-memory, by Salvator Dali, 1931

The Persistence of Memory, Salvador Dali, 1931.

, , , , , , , ,

2 Comments

Friday Afternoon at Costco

I know it’s

me — the people with

anger that

mangles my

nerves — attacked by carts, wanting

to curl down and die.

, , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

All of these Knickknacks Were Glistening in the Gutter by the School Bus

Throw stained socks,

empty the tank, lec-

ture light souls,

banking on, grasping on, tear-

ing us to pieces.

, , , , , ,

Leave a comment

One Time, on a Leather Couch, When I Followed Directions

Told to see

miracles, I see

.

purple, swim-

ming flowers;

they drive wedges of happy,

.

joyous lifetimes big

.

 

, , , ,

Leave a comment

Dry Heart Is Fearful, Steals Water

In desert,

emotions hang dry,

owner-less,

seeking shel-

ter,blasting fragile, red blooms,

coasting in green winds.

.

 

, , , , ,

3 Comments

Most Days, They’re Embarrassed, and Most Days, They’re Mean

Fatigue clings, gripping

feverish self hatred when

they scold and point, turn-

ing red, hating the fragile

man who needs their acceptance.

.

 

, , , , ,

1 Comment

One Day There Was Betterment in a Tiny Auditorium

Children holding his

tablets, moving miniscule

planets. Forget my

past, he screams, slowly curing

needy pieces of dog fur.

, , , , , , ,

2 Comments

%d bloggers like this: