Monday, January 26, 2009

some doggerel

Well here's some doggerel.

On Waiting

Waiting for your call is such
Delicate agony; I thought
"Why not wait for two or three?"
A job, contract, a role or two
And thus building anxiety
Avoid the thought of calling you.


Thanks Pal!

How cryptic people are
They want to say
"Avoid mistakes I made!"
Trying too hard
Couched in a careful phrase -
My friend, just tell me what to do;
You'll feel more honest though
I'll still end up ignoring you.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

song lyrics

Kind of sad for me to write song lyrics when I can't really play guitar anymore.
But hey, that's life -

You dance outside my barricade
Plead with me to let you in
But I won't answer, can't answer
Silence, my best defense, Silence is my best defense

You sing that sweet song
The one that makes me cry
But I won't answer, can't answer
Silence my only defense, Silence is my best defense

And it's so hard to see you
In the sights of my gun and know
With one shot I'd kill you
One bullet would make you go
Hard to stay on duty here
Behind my iron wall
I want to strike you down
I need to make you go

Dancing outside my barricade
Crying to be let in
But I can't respond to you
Silence is my best defense, Silence my best defense

Crashing into my walls
Begging to be let in
But I can't speak, won't speak,
I'll stay silent, my best defense
Silence... silence my best defense

500 damn poems on the same damn subject

OK, so here are a lot of poems on the same subject. And yeah, they need serious work.
But I have to get them up now, they're not going to work on themselves.

Not me, it's you
Not you, it's me
I'm just not ready
Being selfish
All my energy
Focused on me these days
I like you a lot really
But I can't,
Think about,
The closeness that
To you is second nature
I have to keep
Needing to keep
Not you, it's me.


That day you loved the asparagus-
It was so sweet and sour,
But now I see it was the vinegar
It had absorbed
For that moment I loved it too
I tried to remember
I don't like it, don't care
For it, the taste, the texture
But right then, in the vinegar
I liked it, loved it.
I would never have tasted it
But for you; but then I tried it
And fell into liking it with you.
For that moment I loved it
And kept on consuming it;

There is a giant green tree in the forest
Its roots are deep, its bark is green
And so soft, and you can rip the leaves right off
And they taste like

I'm pissing my days away
And it smells so rich and strange
Don't want to hurt you
But it happened right away
That moment I tasted it


Knocking on doors
Down the street,
You answered, we talked
We made plans for the evening
And all the time I knew
I'd keep on knocking;
I like to see the doors,
Like to feel them
Knocking and waiting for answers
And talking, peeking
Just inside; I like the furniture
But I'm not staying;
I'll keep on knocking.

Friday, January 23, 2009

brief updates

writing has slacked off a bit lately. Focusing on work and other things...

I wrote something the other day, after it snowed a bit.
Looking in your window across the
street and saw your back walking
away. It was beautiful.
The snow was beautiful where we shoveled it
The cars on the street were freshly scraped
Nothing was new but everything glittered a little
Not sure if that's going anywhere.

OK, here's some more random disorganized thoughts.

Sometimes the minutes fly;
Tonight they go by slowly, watching me for signs.
I wander to the shop and order coffee.
I pretend to read; but I'm watching people carefully,
Pretending I can guess the stories of their lives,
Drinking coffee, talking to the counter man.
"Business is slow." Not much else to say.
We live in a slow time now, watching each other,
Wondering whether the slow slide down river has tipped on its side,
Not thinking yet about where to stand, how not to get wet.
Sometimes I fantasize about working from home a different way.
I could sell drugs from my porch, all day
People would come and go,
And they would come back when they realized
It was oregano.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

iambic pentameter

Which is actually a funny way of saying 'poetry the way everyone expects it'

Anyway this poem is the fault of Tom, Rachel, Nicole, and Suzanne. It needs work but I might as well put it up in its present form now.

Happy New Year's!

My touchstone's broken in the windy street
I look for life in faces made of stone
I speak my time in phrases overblown
They feast in footprints from my bloody feet.

Pulling at obstacles I cry
Clawing with bloody hands we dig
A thousand men or more dig here
In rows; we come alone, not organized
We strive in frenzy, grasp the earth in fear.

And this is not a pleasant mystery
For what was told us, each to each
We'd find anew inside these cobbled streets
Bodies we buried many years ago.

And when I reach my prize so high
I'll lift it, in display and pride
So carefully I'll clean these dirty bones
And then I'll smile and climb inside
The grave; Then I'll be home.

And dreaming then of times that passed me by
I'll fill my heart and stomach with the rocks
And up above my bones will walk and talk
And eloquently discourse on the rain.
All manner converse will they have
With every gentle creature in the land
And never will be heard a note of pain.

a minor comment

I woke up today and I wanted things to be different.
It was almost ten and I wanted the clock to use totally different numbers,
So I would have to think a little bit each time I thought about those numbers.
I didn't want it to be ten anymore, I wanted it to be an alien number I would
Have to think about every time I told the time.
I look at the time these days and I know exactly how long it takes me to do all the things
That I do in the day and I think, "Man, how dull it is to know exactly how long it takes to do these things!"
"How awesome would it be to wonder how long it takes to work out, take a shower, eat something."
How long would it take? A googol? Two multiplexes? Three severiams? Four eeyores?
Stuff would happen and I would always wonder what would happen next and I guess life would be a little more interesting.
Instead of this life where I know what will happen today.

just messing around

Lots of people have it

I'm a little sensitive, I admit.
When you don't come or call, I notice
And it bothers me, I check my mail
More often than it's healthy.

When I say you're welcome here, I mean it.
Plenty of room, like any lonely man
There's room; come on in. You'll see it.
The vacant spot is there. You can't miss it.

And when I ask you to call, that's what I meant
I meant call me, reach out. Bore me to tears,
make me want to sleep. I want that
Connection right now, I want to sleep, I need it.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Something a little more complicated I'm still working on

This is probably the most complicated thing I've done for a while. Still a work in process. Edited last 1/16/09


I've been crawling along, I guess.
And everybody's got advice:
They say to
Move more, eat less
Smile more, be less
Smile more, see less
Hold on, break less
Hide the flop sweat,
Grin till your teeth clench
Tight on your breath.
Don't call every day,
Don't look that way,
Don't be desperate
To grab hands, get numbers,
Make friends, make plans,
Be strong, learn how to live on your own.
Don't try so hard, you'll get over this.
I can barely see where I'll be when I get over this.
Light and happy, windblown, fancy free, made of gauzy transparency
Rising up and over my mortal locality
Covering all with calm geniality, smiling, inflating,
Rising and shading man woman and child with slight filmy webbing,
Rising; expanding over the moon, rising and growing,
Expanding to cover the planets, the sun;
Expanding to fill the spiral arm.
Moving over the galaxy, until I'm a dim sheen over all that man has seen and will see
And I'll be so large then, baby, you'll pass through me. So large and so gentle
You'll pass right through me and I won't feel a thing
I won't feel a tremor or wave or particle or anything
Not the smallest damn particle of feeling. I'll keep on moving, you'll keep on passing
Lately I guess that's where I'm crawling.

One Poem for a different Friend

OK John, this is for you. If you don't recognize the guy in the picture chalk it up to Narrator not being the Author or whatever, just please don't hit me, I'm delicate :)

I've always eaten it
You seem to be strangling in it
My friend, you're smoking ultra-lights like they're going out of style,
Pulling air like you'll draw their lives into your lungs
Angry like a madman and your speech is 'clipped'
Clipped but it sounds fine to me
This is how deep you've pushed it
Deep down you're so damn

Two Poems for a Friend

These are both dedicated to Nicki. Actually they both started with the same line, and I fought the good fight in not making them about myself, and succeeded a bit better with the second than I did with the first.

Dreams I
I had a friend who would tell me her dreams.
Such a little thing for me; I knew their meaning
I was that arrogant.
Years pass and she's still cool and I
Am cold;
Looking in the North Pole for someone
With my ego to tell me
What my dreams meant, where did they go?

Dreams II
I had a friend who told me dreams, late at night,
Years ago; and in my mind
She's calling, my hand warm on the phone,
Face flushed, lying down, saying
What it meant and means.
We were both dreaming carelessly
and talking silly nonsense about stupid stuff
I can't remember it now. She said,
"Can I kill you?" I said, "Yes, I'll write a note."
That's our friendship, who we were,
Careless, ceaseless. Reading the poetry I wrote
It was too long, singsongy, and crappy. She told me so.
Who the hell else could have told me so!
I told her one time I was going home
And then followed her to the next spot, she didn't notice
I was so proud of myself for my cleverness
She actually seemed surprised. There weren't many times
I got the better of her!
My whole life, I guess.
Well we all have these friends we wish we were,
Stronger, faster, smarter, lives like a muscle car,
All we can do is stop and stare
We all have these friends, and sometimes in a long time
You find one that cares -
One that is a real friend back for you
And she is that, has that, and so my friend I dedicate this crap
To you.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

today's random thought

I am

I am nursing a cinder on my front porch
It's raining down the steps and on the street.
I'm cold up here but it's dry at least.

Indoors Wesley Snipes makes love to Claudia Schiffer and I have work to do.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

a 'Persona 3' poem

Every night at midnight

Every night at midnight we blow our brains out.
I'm breezing through high school feeding your
Egos, but I only need so much from you.
Three girls at a time, what a life this is!
The year passes quickly, the blue wings fall silently.

wrote these jan 4th 2009


One is enough numbers.
Count it quickly
and go home.

"Sometimes I'm a"

Spider crawling southward on the wall
to a warm crack on the wall
Where the heater blows.

Western Sheets

"You brought these sheets into the relationship, you take them out."


Some poetry I wrote more than ten years ago

I found an old notebook in a jacket and went through it, here are two poems that probably shouldn't see the light of day but hey, this is the next best thing.


Actors are untrustworthy.
I have to thank the hands
that catch me, every
night, in the darkness,
and pass me to the exit.
When the lights come up I'm in my place.
Who guided me?
Someone I cannot tell,
One of many.


A little bit of potatoes,
a single broccoli
on a plate.
Unasked for
but as much as
could ask.