It's ok to write poems and put them here

Part-Time Rapper by Scott Seward

I rock rhymes.

Sometimes.

i woke up in the middle of the night the other night and thought that. and then i went back to sleep. thank you. thank you very much.

with the right beat, i think you just wrote your first #1 single!

under the fence
you crawl on all fours
the lock to open the gate
from the inside

i heard your stomach scrape
along blades of grass
split in half along the stems
lift the hinges
to let our friends in

we light soft candles reminiscent
of the end of a sunset
projected wide onto wrinkled fabric
pulled taut from clips in the corners

the double u is spoken
the double v is chiseled
w reflects the
soft m in the center of the back
yes, I’d like my heart back
x marks the spot I can wait
what time does the sun set
don’t let the dust get wet

new game plus
starts with all the items but none of the progress
or all of the progress but none of the items
or with everything you can remember
or with nothing at all

but a new body and internal clock
settling into a walking pace
might mean time might
sturdy the fall
fresh sets of rules will unfold
as peculiar rhythms that become your own

shaded blades next to
lit blades lit green
warm my toes
blue and yellow
hope I won’t bring my
giant foot in the sky
swinging down hard
to divide my yard into two
discrete zones
of careless trampling
of careful misunderstanding

he hit me hard
he felt bad
-hit me back
come on, get me back-
no, not now
not when you’re expecting it
wait until you’ve forgotten
when i finally hit back
we will both laugh

“
The old arm
Of a new love
“

God is a bouncer
Who keeps me out of bars
And pushes me home
When I’ve had too few

Put on a pair of pants
Put on one more
Put on another and you’re falling on the floor
You won’t get to the door
Put on another pair of pants

i’m so hungry
i could eat a horse
of course, of course not really
really i’m so hungry i could lick
kirk cameron’s perfect banana, sorry
how many licks does it take
to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop
i’m not 1 2 say
WHOOoooo 8 all the D, 3,
vitamin, gummies?
how i wanted it to be me
CaRUNCHing mr. ed bobbing for apples
on halloween

New crush is old crush

“His weakness was his fondness for intoxication, which had similarly fascinated primitive man”

If “I gotta cut you off” is something you’ve had said to you at the bar, and also you’re into Pina coladas

eventually
an old shoe will wear out
and be discarded

it isn't just the inevitability age

it was just tired
of feeling feet on top of it
All day
All night

it wasn't so bad when it was new
it was good to be useful
but its utility was its downfall
depleted until it was of no use to anybody
not even itself

*of age

we're deepening into May spring, and,
the sun stays out a little longer in the evenings
I consider you in all things as the warmth of the sun fades and the sky blooms neon oranges and pinks
I miss you
whoever you are now
where ever you are

sns if this is too " girly"

by the way - I am not into mentioning anyone specific but marvelous haiku and extended poems on this thread

by the way - I am not into mentioning anyone specific but marvelous haiku and extended poems on this thread

welcome stwahberry

hi. z
thank you. happy to be here

No one could ever crack the code
Of my new one

fibonacci zero one

one
dumb
son

taps drums
cracks toms
bread crumbs

glitter bombs
souvenirs
nothing’s wrong

nothing missing here
metal hooks hanging
plastic chandeliers

every time i look it’s changing
colors melting into one light
my neck’s warm and now it’s raining

this ceiling will disappear when the music is right
on time would be an odd way to start a performance
do sheep dream of electricity, the key, string, kite

sky was alive now it’s dormant
the bottom fell out of the air
from the green streams crawls the tortoise

to tell a tall tale
of golden ratios
and beach ball sized hail

hell windblown
closed drive thru
missed free throws

who knew
what when
did you

reach
the
end

I was just thinking about impermanence and how something/one is forever changing. we go through nfinite metamorphosis - all the time everywhere collectively, though not at the same frequencies is what I've come to

Searching for Sarah
Enhanced includes real
They’re not even days

When has there ever been something so lovely as you
In silhouette in the light
Coming in at 559

Omg that’s a horrible poem lol

Old actor, just starting out
Surprise placement
Bit part in Ghostbusters VI

Got my arm out on the windowsill at the bar
like a cars open window
Stationary rollin as people walk by

I have decided
that doing nothing
is better
than doing anything

I’d tell you why

but

So gone
So list
He is

At the court house
Waking down the hall
“Your backpack is open”
“Can you close it?”
*closes it and pats backpacker on the shoulder*

Dark ages of attraction
Year long crush
She keeps cutting her hair

the rider of the electric scooter
gliding like a still life coasting up
a hill of beans meant more to me
than the limbs of arcing delivery
loose and sinewy
it was all we wanted
in the sandlot heat
to hang a crooked number
in the fifth frame, throw it
somewhere near the middle
uncut fields hides a cat nap
but my left leg’s gone numb
so i’ll see you in the groupchat

At the bar , I ordered a beer and went to the bathroom
I had been here five years ago
Someone had painted over my tiniest of graffiti

A Song

A song for the outstretched fields of France and the endless games of chance and the needles on the blackboard and the skin razor flute bagpipe jollies and the tight pants naked folly and the syrup-laden sled across hippie homestead quickenings and the stew of my mind corn thickening and your fragrant oily dreadclumps and the self-help spine-bound entreaties and the last of the self-made Mohicans and the first of the metaphysical swallows and the third of the post-structuralist waitresses and the ninth resurrected magician and a song, a song, a song.

The toothy grin
Of the man driving the ice cream truck
As he drove into the Macy's storefront
Is not an American tragedy

Because

Only mannequins died

But

I'm still jealous of the mannequin
In a way

It’s ok to lose
And not say anything
at the bar
It’s somewhat expected
And better than being coked up
and chatty

“The promise of the night”
Is nothing
But it’s nice to pretend

1, 2, 3 and to the 4
Stefan from UPS is at your door
He's been here for ten minutes, so open up
Or he'll rip your fuckin package up

Will you ever learn?
toaster waffles are no good
they're too thin to keep their shape
and in the heat they burn

sugar syrup scorches
on the nichrome wires
they may smell nice
but the taste leave much
to be desired

You appeared / you didn’t
She’s stocking the fridge?
Been downstairs for a minute

climbing the curtains
covered in flies
wiling the hours away
drawn to the air
pulled to the screen

look through the window of opportunity

is the world happening
is god so gracious
is god so sweetly
turning over the soil
working all the time
on juniata street

please don’t leave my virtual hellscape

but you took my loot
yes you did!
you yanked it out from under me
while i was trying to help you
i used my last magic points
to cast respawn and save your ass
the trouble of the long journey
you appeared as if out of thin air
the next dimension slicing through

again you lived
and then you immediately took my loot
even though your inventory was full
so you had no space for the the stolen items
i watched you drop your common boots
and your starting short sword
and a torch, unlit

i watched you pick up the legendary axe
a legendary, two-handed axe
which you are not permitted to use
given your singled-minded focus on luck and charisma
and frankly game-breaking ignorance of
strength and endurance

the legendary two-handed axe
rightfully mine but a burden to you
your movement is minus two
the party is only as fast as the slowest mover
(you. you. you!)
—i didn’t mean to criticize
no, i think
the way you loot
breaks all of my rules
please don’t leave my virtual hellscape

artly because
the spotted circle shirt
thick mustache drooping down
and talking of leaves, missing leaves
double sharpened pencil
twirls on the thumb

his seat is a waterslide
with five legs in 2.3d

teetering notetaker brings his knees
close to the nose
way up on the workstation
posture strictly aligned
along the y-axis
and an expressionless stare

fish eye lens warps
the negative space
when asked to speak
… tapestry

No more bullshit
Not here for what I’m here for

leave your dreams
as of this late era date, [current date],
writing complete sentences felt impossible, but it had to be done. compromises were to be expected. we understood them to be necessary to create documents of submission, a submission to a zine which demanded conformity to a certain set of written and electronic standards. we say to ourselves that we don’t have any rules…no rules except for these. the rules for submitting to A Moment Zine. 2025. winter 2025, a time of great–
ding—my bullshit photoshop monthly subscription is going from 10 dollars to 15–
creative cloud my ass–
sorry, i forgot what i was doing, it’s a good thing, because i need to focus! starting here: 
in the tortoise and the hare, i am the hare. down to the ears. on a tarot card, i am the fool. but the fool’s not bad at all! proud fools! they get where they’re going fast and take a nap. 
and do they take it slow? and is that where they wanna go?
and way down in kokomo, yes we all know, but no! the tortoise goes as slow as it wants, and i can sprint down the path if i want, and i can take a nap if i want, and i probably will. 
the beginning of the journey is often the best. nice and fresh. 
well rested. hometown theme music plays on a mini-kalimba. 
please, join me in reciting “I am a Little Painter”: 🎶
(open book to near the beginning)
…though who is to say i could not try writing in complete sentences, or at least make moves in that direction? And while I’m at it, I could think about doing some capitalizing and modestly punctuating, too. I should pick a tense and stick with it. “Perhaps the past”, he said, “no, let us be present”, I said, “and while we’re at it, let’s use a consistent perspective as well”, we said.
“Not ‘we said’, ‘I said’”, I said. “And I say.”
Surely these inconsistencies can be ironed out by the editing team before it hits the zine press: Imagine my punctuation, this very sentence, perfect, more or less! And my grammar as well! Imagine I kept up the good punctuation and grammar until its quality, the lack of cracks in its tall and long walls, came to be expected and unnotable. 
Dependability. Reliability.
This is how truck commercial narratives get written.
And then, on top of that, if my words were reliably introducing new and interesting points, little things to think about, morsels, and dishing them out at a good pace - nice and steady but with enough space left between each fresh tidbit to cause audible deviations in the septum, the one with the whistling nasal passages, the 
hmph!
(close book)
I wish I could share more, but that was a limited, exclusive excerpt from the introduction of my sensorial memoir, Sounds from the Big Nose: Early Years. However, I can share some of the early reactions that I’ve received, which will be printed on the back of the book:
(slowly skimming through the blurbs with a pained expression)
a lot of these are rather indirect. but i like this one:
–the written word, spoken out loud, there’s nothing like it!
Right? *long sip of beverage* Ahhh!
(refreshed seltzer lips)
And what a lovely crowd!
And what an excellent ceiling. Or maybe there is no ceiling, here.
It really depends on where this is read, and if this is read.
In one version, one of many possibilities
You say “what…?”, in this one I say 
What…an excellent area to look at, up there!
(While your eyes search for an area of excellence to look at up there, I introduce the theme from the thrilling soap opera “Kitchen Situations: Justice Hour”, where every episode must end on a cliffhanger)
now that the dishes are all clean
nest of four pans 
elephant on its side might be
plastic figuring
the reflections of a mirror
closer than      they appear
wonder who       watches who 
is inside the        negative 
space which      shows the 
way into the     kitchen 
where the       dishes 
are never      done 
and can     anything ever be
finished   in an all night diner
in this all night diner?
find out next time on:
Kitchen Situations : Justice Hour :: Leave Your Dreams: Invitation to Love
You had to be there, but you almost always have to be there. And now we can’t, even if we once were there, even if we once did. I write as if you were here, I speak as if there is a you or you all there, listening, but it starts as a voice speaking to itself in the place others can’t hear. Who was it for, if for none of the above. All for none, none for all! and plenty of time and patience left over for this evening, or morning

The day I bought Katy lied
Dogs were humping my leg
And children were running around the bar

a few hours
before my words
were of yesterday
i traced them
a few years
after your words
ceased to be

wore the summer in
dirt heat moonlit paths
showing a way to the creekbed
stop and hear where it is
the water cannot pause
or hold its breath to listen
no need to decide
if it is real as you or i
this heartbeat in the ground
below where old wind goes
to be turned over again

sorrow
is like vomiting
if each expulsion made you feel sicker
with bottomless contents in the stomach

sorrow
is like waiting for sunrise every day
with dark clouds always in the way

sorrow
is being too tired to scream
and too angry to cry
and being frustrated by the inability to do either

sorrow
is the phone ringing at the right time
but the wrong number

sorrow
is "I want"
inevitably followed by "I can't"

holy minimalism mix you wouldn’t believe
it’s as if i’ve died and gone to heaven
why it’s written in the sky over there
but we can’t read what it spells
yah wonder what it means
it’s a lit up fun machine
floating freely rotating
we buy what it sells
handfuls of old
books i keep
for myself
making
zero
$