Nature Doc on a Loop
I want someone to grip my wristsand look straight back at meI want the clock to stop,so I can take a look and seethat maybe I’ve been wanderingfor a while too long, like a loose broken turnstile,spinning cleanly, unbound,though not exactly uninhibited or free.
It’s not a tragedy. It can be another moment that wasn’t meant to be,the aftermath becomes the new normal,the temporary is now the permanent,a workaround to adjust to the instability,to help cover up what is still wide open.
Do you see why I need someone to grab hold of my wrists?Sometimes I need a moment.
It seems like a lot of people want this movie to end,but I don’t.The point is moot. This theater plays films on a loop.The lead roles shift back and forth and with time, we all learn each other’s lines.One of the characters is you.I don’t remember where our words came frombut as you say themmy lips might move too,knowing that it can and cannot be true.
I tried to run away from home onceI had internalized their arguments andbelieved they were both right.Missouri without a car is close to impossiblea child walking down a highway with a backpackknows there is no pointkicks some dust off the shoulderbut isn’t yet ready to be picked up.
Everyone I know is overloaded.Their clients are falling from the windowsand squeezing back in through the front doors. Even their ledgers seem to be near their limits.
I feel a kind of total emptiness.The grass grows back strong when my weight is lifted off of it. Turns out the blades are indifferent.
I’m one weird ass bird and you are the treesYour roots are strong and I’m in the breeze.I can put my home in your branchesand hide in your leaves. I have no mouths to feed,the worms I catch are all for me.
I’m on the tip of a feather, thenI sink heavy, far and deep,the rush of living distilled into a moment of peaceunder your familiar canopy.
I can never be late here.
― Karl Malone, Saturday, 1 January 2022 19:45 (one year ago) link
for some reason i've been writing a lot recently, and i really don't want to have to get a MFA and wait to get to be published in a friend's book before i am credentialed to put a poem in a public space. maybe you feel that way too, so please post yr poems if you want. otherwise i'll just keep posting mine, who fucking cares
― Karl Malone, Saturday, 1 January 2022 19:47 (one year ago) link
Sometimes I try to put myself in a state,call it Loose Control, for now,where expressive results are bent into javelined roads,temporary paths getting all covered up and forgotten under relentless waves of new stuff.
Imagine automatic writing but more visual,thin and slivering lines instead of language,the brush’s residuals replacing the text.
When I Loosely Control my hand starts to moveon its own, independently,thickened water sloshingly flyingup and around the edges of a bucketwhich is swirling in elliptical orbits,the inverse of my motions,the effects of my causes becominguntethered from their origins, and yet I know that I am part of it all.It is from me and yet it doesn’t see me back.
A forgotten mark gets scattered up,reforms as a ladder and tipstoward new directions,one of many landing strips,loud movement then stillness,a flood and then a covenant.
I make my bed and I sleep on top of it.My heart beats are uninterrupted.They make me live so I listen,five liters of blood in a circuit,all sustained without a rhythm. I barely understand but I know I’ll wake up.
out of this tape hiss comes some light
i've been dropped off here,old train running on a fresh sea,with fingertips all cut up and worn down fromconstant use, my newer skin turns rough
I wanted someone to talk to but instead I had a beer or two.it’s only more water pushing against my barricades.we build ourselves back up and see each other off at the door.I wonder who is watching who. I wonder how long I can keep this up.I think about what it would be like to see you stop.
I broke your locks but fixed your door sweep.Your car was fine but I brought it to the shop.I made your day easier and that was enough.
Tough love, that’s kid stuff. I’ll clean the dirt off, don’t worry.Your hands are blistered.Mine are sweating. My glasses fogged up.But I still drop them off at school.
Two-step around the room. The drums and the singingand I’m feeling warm again.I’m stretched out and dry.crushed in, drawn tightI haven’t touched skin so soft in years,my knuckles pop like firecrackers,My hands are stupid bricks. My WPM is 96.The words pile up and I keep writing.
There’s a ship that sails back.I can still see it.I think about my sense of humanity. I think I saw my spirit dancingwith the one that brought me,the thought which took me out on the town and spun me sideways,our long naps in the evenings,unwarned,unearned,walking on air, enchanted.
― Karl Malone, Saturday, 1 January 2022 19:48 (one year ago) link
a moving checkmark has caught my eyestarkly black on blue tinted gray.2 birds to the left, 6 to the right1 at the heada flying nonet not at all like a Monetbut beautiful all the same
you had to be there I suppose.
Hey look, we’re right on time.This place has been designated for our recovery.It’s sponsored by a local charcuterie.
You know I’m only kiddingand the bit is that there’s nothing to get(everyone’s least favorite)
What do you know, we’re in another lineThis place is dedicated to making moneyjust like pretty much everywhere elsenow that anyone or anything can be a marketour dreams got commodified in the bargain
Remember those glow-in-the-dark ceiling star kits?Did you ever peel them off, or did someone else do it without your say?And what happened to that dog we had, anyway?
Some kids recreate the solar systemat a 36 billion to one ratio“whaaaah bakkken-mah day”, old man me may say, “o kai, Pluto was still part of the solar system”as if it disappeared from existence altogether when it lost its placeas the 9th and furthest planet on the wayto waypoints in other galaxiesit’s still there.It’s still cold.
― Karl Malone, Sunday, 2 January 2022 20:30 (one year ago) link
Old man me complains a lot, probablyI used to think about him every day,trying to avoid becoming him.The more I think of him the closer he gets,so I drew a line and put myself on one side of it,turned 180 degrees and went on autopilotit means smoking in the sunroom and washing downpizza crust with another beer on the way to the couch.When I finally turn around I know what to expect.Old man me’s shadow will be my own before long,a long-scheduled appointment well met.I shake his hand and we walk back into our apartment.He watches the shows and I hit refresh.
― Karl Malone, Sunday, 2 January 2022 20:35 (one year ago) link
That’s a part of our bargain.It’s about forgiveness.
I have quite a bit to apologize for.He at least acknowledges that it happenedThen he goes on and on and makes no sense.I try to listen, but can’t.
That’s when I want to think of something else.
That’s when I think about what I think a home isWhat we’ve all been through, andWhere have we gone, andwhat my friends have seen, their new families are growing.It’s aways the right season for fertility,I see all their children and I think “what if that was me?”And in every single case, I would be happy.My friends mean a lot to me. They keep me going.I think if I fall on my face they’ll love me all the more for it.That means everything to me.That lets me remember my inner child,cartwheeling straight down the street,sliding, careening, skinning a knee,getting all bent out of shapefrom anyone or anything I might meetknowing full well I have a place for recovery. Not my local Schnucks or wise-ass charcuteriesbut with my chosen family, the ones who are really there(and don’t charge an arm and a leg and a fee,
Happy anniversary to 1 of 365.25 people, on average, we might meetSoon the shops will open with the year’s first work week.I’m rooting for you, from the margins.Unemployed by choice, that’s the jargonI’ve rarely said “beg your pardon?”I usually say “I’m sorry?” and regret my decision of words immediatelythe theater of the absurd grows stale quicklylet’s break bread and dry it out completely.
― Karl Malone, Monday, 3 January 2022 04:53 (one year ago) link
Poetrylike potteryleft me coldas a pot of teain the studio
― Urbandn hope all ye who enter here (dog latin), Monday, 3 January 2022 10:22 (one year ago) link
Whose thistle-blistered shin is this? The other one must surely missIts criss-crossed country counterpart If one is one and two are two how many shins am I to lose To bracken stumbles cuts and grazes, nettle stings and turns of phrasesSod this for a barrel of laughsI'd rather use the underpass
― Urbandn hope all ye who enter here (dog latin), Monday, 3 January 2022 10:23 (one year ago) link
Don't grouse on my greasy undergarments with your oleaginous jeremiadsMetastatic angst in the antechamber of Anthea Turner's tanning atelierHock your snot into a truffled fist, you sunny-spayed evangelistsServe my sirloin on a praxis of half-shined rag-and-iron collidersBillious squalls from the Gorbals bill tables while we celebrate Clark Gable's nasty garlic nails.Slop a bucket of hot-steam gas on the coalface of the midnight mass Sick chicks peck at plastic packaging Dejected ingestion of a pupper's playthingRubber throats on the road start to rollick:"Hen, you've had your fillet!"You embattled borstal sorcerers
― Urbandn hope all ye who enter here (dog latin), Monday, 3 January 2022 10:26 (one year ago) link
All mine were written into my phone while deeply hungover
― Urbandn hope all ye who enter here (dog latin), Monday, 3 January 2022 10:30 (one year ago) link
(no match for KM's work of course, which I'm loving)
― Urbandn hope all ye who enter here (dog latin), Monday, 3 January 2022 13:27 (one year ago) link
i'm just a doof in the wind, dog latin
Slow synth waves wash over 2amIt’s 1994 or 2024, doesn’t matterI didn’t have NickelodeonI’m falling asleepI might be falling again,By all signs I am(Each step is a kind of broken forward motion)According to Laurie Anderson.We can’t bothered paying too much attention right nowIn the midst of the everpresent competition of the senseswith touches and smells and sounds and visions,And on and on in bottomless provisionsThe brooms grow arms and pick up the bucketsand flood their lair in lemminglike motions
It tastes like wineIt tastes like honey
Let’s dim these lights and turn up their hues a degree or two warmer then cool daylightThe heat’s on 72I’m sweating, through the sheetsI see you moving,Do you see me watchingI hope you do.
We could just go.We could go to the Blue Lagoon.There’s a free layover at Reykjavik On the way to Europeor at least there used to be.I haven’t really left this town in a week or three.You sit in the sulfuric water and smell like eggs.Weird for a minute but plenty-fine in a daze,3-feet deep water, half crouchThe low-flying clouds of steam out the mouthHot stones on your cheeks against the North Atlantic breezeFor us it might be heavenFor others it’s a Tuesday soakOne to take off work and enjoy a floatfacedown for as long as their lungs can handle itThen flip and spread the arms toward all four directions,The cardinals, the original sin,Imagine you’re the tail of a lizardFeeling left and right and centeredAs naturally as our hearts beat and lungs breathe,We’re so lucky to sit at the top of these complicated systems,We don’t understand but we benefit from themTo live our lives in a way that honors that gift is to repay back only part of what we’ve been givenTo truly enjoy a sliver of the life Is to be adrift at sea, at home with the upheaval
I was really sick on a small boat the open sea there, near Iceland.We had paid a small fee to try to see a whale swim.Now I’m the boy on the big wide cold open ocean for the first time sincehis father drowned himself semi-voluntarily,probably out of ignorance,Out of a misplaced faith in his voice of intuition,One voice out of many in conversation,A form of improvised unpredictable organization, Sorted starting with numbers aBefore the lettersI opened my eyes and my stomach went sideways,I almost threw up but sat my way out of it.I closed my eyes and leaned back my headAgainst the cabin and the shapes inside my lidsWatching some puffins landing near a dark cave lit up by a tourist captain playing an echoing woodwindAn alto saxophone with an unexpected soulful lilt,A long quiet note held steady with tremolo flicksBouncing off the walls and my own index fingers and wristsTapping along to the the perfect story, followed by that solo, the one I just mentioned.I was haunted, what’s wrong with me, live.
― Karl Malone, Thursday, 6 January 2022 01:58 (one year ago) link
unexpectedlysubtle black cat climbs the fenceleaves night incomplete
― Halfway there but for you, Friday, 7 January 2022 18:49 (one year ago) link
The moving men just finishedThere are two of them, two guys, along with a truckThey’re dancing in the front cabinand filling it up with vape smoke and laughinghotboxing at 3pm, done with their shift
One of my neighbors is leavingbut I didn’t see who it was
There’s a beagle next door that I call Dr. HowlThe good doctor documents his agony When his walker walks off to workhe yooowls to absurd lengthcaterwauls until no one can stand it
We all struggled with his lonelinessThose of us living within a 200-foot radius, that isOn some mornings it would go on for hours. He’d clock in early then go back to bedonly to wake up again around 9amto resume his fit at an even greater volume
I saw the Doctor Howl in his apartment’s side window sometimesWe’d make eye contact while I locked my front doorI loved seeing him in his window frame, looking at meHe single-handedly ruined my sleeping patternsand I’d give him some more time, I’d give him a treat, if I saw him
Now the truck and the two guys are goneThere’s a large empty space where it wasI haven’t heard a howl all daynow to think of itI wonder where that sad boy is
I hope he’s running in a big open spacemiles away from any other propertybarking and huffing and squallingthe doctor in his countryside residence, at peace
― Karl Malone, Friday, 7 January 2022 21:00 (one year ago) link
― Urbandn hope all ye who enter here (dog latin), Saturday, 8 January 2022 11:21 (one year ago) link
thank you dog latin! what is very strange is that when i finished that yesterday, i posted a video clip of me reading it, and almost the instant i hit send, i heard Dr. Howl going again and was assured that he's still around. I even saw him in the window looking back at me when i went outside later. it was really nice :)
― Karl Malone, Saturday, 8 January 2022 16:54 (one year ago) link
the nice thing is that the poem stands up completely on its own, unaffected by those later facts
― more difficult than I look (Aimless), Saturday, 8 January 2022 17:05 (one year ago) link
thank you aimless! you all should post some that you're working on, if you want. i've revised all the ones i posted above, quite a bit in cases, but i think it's sometimes a nice thing to have a place to post work in progress. i'm working on a decent one right now, i think. i really enjoy using my mornings to write poetry. it fits in really well with the rest of my day and it makes me feel very productive. i've never really organized my writing before, but i think maybe part of that was that i assumed i would be best at doing it at night, which is when my creative outlets are usually sparking. but with writing, i think i am a morning/coffee person. anyway, just rambling, back to the notes :)
― Karl Malone, Saturday, 8 January 2022 17:58 (one year ago) link
and no joke, just as i post, the same two guys and the moving truck just showed up! i think they're moving someone else in? looool. well, i'm sitting here at the same window, on the same couch. unbelievable
― Karl Malone, Saturday, 8 January 2022 18:02 (one year ago) link
The silence of a new apartmentWaving to the one you left behind and closing the doorcrying and knees and hands touching the floorDo I want to be remindedNo, but I wouldn’t want to forget
― Karl Malone, Saturday, 8 January 2022 18:34 (one year ago) link
one more, sorry. this is the one i've been working on the last few days
Mary Lou Retton Skips
Look at him, skipping ropeHe skipped up and down the full length of his block’s sidewalkwithout a single slip or halt, not a moment of hesitationIf anything he seems to be craving a mistakeNot at all like Mary Lou Retton, you remember a nation held its breath, it was the 1984 Olympicsthe sprint to the vault pushes those watching to the edges of their seatsshe launches, flips, soars, and of course sticks the landingShe demanded perfection of herself in a life full of limitsNow she’s waiting to see what the judge’ would thinkThen we saw the score and she heard it and said Yes!and we all said it together, Ten!, watching on our analog televisionsMoments like that certainly capture my attention. One hundred percent of it, the career-defining performanceThe tip of a spear dipping ever so slightly into transcendenceThat’s the boy who effortlessly skips, in the moment, in this moment,at the top of his game, when life seems so easyHis kid sister walks behind him and watches and smilesnow she’s spinning and he’s romping down the block again
― Karl Malone, Saturday, 8 January 2022 19:45 (one year ago) link
(sorry, that's supposed to go into this:)
I don’t want to be disenchanted, as I sometimes amAs we all are bound to be, lost at sea in the knowledge economyI try to push back against that drift because I enjoy being enchantedIn fact, it means pretty much everything to meWhen it feels like magic I don’t know what I sawI know what it felt like, I don’t know it allI know every spell gets broken, I know where I belongEvery day can’t be like this and this might not happen againThat’s why I hold onto this feeling tightly for as long as I canwhen I can find it, when I can hear my voice and change it
― Karl Malone, Saturday, 8 January 2022 19:48 (one year ago) link
(and then figuring out if i want to include this or work it into something else i've been working on. it contains many baseball references, which i'm sure will be wonderful for some and horrible for others, haha):
When the bus dropped me off, as a kid, I had a ritualI would take off my bag and begin the great spinWielding my backpack like an Decathlon competitor holds a hammerFeeling the slack of the Jansport bag’s thin straps tighteningGaining momentumA trapper keeper slammed up against polyester liningThen I’d whip my book bag off into the air as far as I could possibly throw itOften with a grand arc, as a performanceAs the bus pulled off with some kids laughing from the windowsthe school day was done, the home was still home
― Karl Malone, Saturday, 8 January 2022 19:58 (one year ago) link
i changed the name to Skip to my Lou, and the last part is now part of something else. also revised a lot of things, after reading it out loud a few times and hearing where things needed to be
Skip to my Lou
Look at that kid, skipping ropeHe skipped up and down the full length of this block’s sidewalkwithout a single misstep, no miscues, no reservations If anything he seemed to be craving a mistakeOne to break the winning streak so he could move on to something else
Not at all like Mary Lou Retton, you remember a nation held its breath, it’s the 1984 OlympicsHer sprint to the vault pushes those watching to the edges of their seatsshe launches, flips, soars, and of course sticks the landingShe demanded perfection of herself in a world of limitsNow it all comes down to what the judges should thinkShe walks past the NBC cameras and we seethe pressure of theater on the brink of the rinkno one blinks, I think, no one breathesThen we saw the score and she heard it and said Yes!and we all shouted the number together, Ten!the announcer, the audienceeveryone at home watching on our analog televisions
Moments like that certainly capture my attention. One hundred percent of it, the career-defining performanceThe tip of a spear dipping ever so slightly into transcendenceThat’s the boy who skips, seemingly, without effortin the moment, in this momentat the top of his game, when life seems so easyHis kid sister walks behind him and watches and smilesnow she’s spinning and he’s romping down the block againHis streak is still goingHe can’t retire while he’s still on top becausehe hasn’t worked a jobI hope he doesn’t have to for as long as he can
I don’t want to be disenchanted, as I sometimes amAs we are all bound to be, lost at sea in the knowledge economy or whatever it is that we call thisI try to push back against that kind of heavy drift because I enjoy being enchantedIn fact, it means everything to meWhen I feel magical I don’t know what I sawI know what it felt like, I don’t know it allI know every spell gets broken, I know where I don’t belongI know most days aren’t like this That’s why I hold onto this feeling so tightly for as long as I canwhen I think about my voice and who is changing it
― Karl Malone, Sunday, 9 January 2022 00:32 (one year ago) link
god, things can never be done.
last stanza now starts like this:
I don’t want to be disenchanted, as I sometimes amAs we’re all bound to be, emptied into the seain the knowledge economy or whatever it is that we call thisevery droplet of water makes its own slow way to the ocean
― Karl Malone, Sunday, 9 January 2022 00:34 (one year ago) link
That Dr Howl one is pure late Bukowski, not a bad thing, I love late Bukowski.
Is this thread really for "works in progress"? Cus your standard and workrate is intimidating, and personally my brain doesn't work between October and like March or summat, so when I had a Big Day opening mail/taking a walk/reading the bible I wrote this down in full awareness I will not be fixing the meter and such until the sun hits my corpse:
I love my auntie's handwritingIt is genuinely illegible, butIt swoops and it soarsLong curves, that (to me)Illustrate: birds in flightMessi shots at goaland paths never tookOn walks in the forestIN THE HILLS
Turf HillScare HillBoy's HillBurnieshag, GaerlieThese are high points in my life(geddit?never mind...)
BellhangieShoolbraidBogton (fucken BOGTON)These are apparently individual "woods"But really(come bosie up and I'll tell you a secret):It's actually all one big forest(also my life is one big forest)
But my auntie's handwriting was NOT ALWAYS THIS WAYI knowBecause of my grandfather's bibleHis wife put it in my hands when he died, andInsideI found a slip of paperNo more than like 3/4 inch squareWith a verse from LukeBland, rote, capital lettersI would have never known who wrote itIf it wasn't signedHilary White
I just wanted to get for my own records before I forgot 1) my Auntie's baffling handwriting 2) The names I googled of where I was walking, I thought it was just "up the forestry", turns out I traversed multitudes 3) the tiny piece of paper I found in the Bible.
― Aberdeen Thugs Kiss All Visiting Fans (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Sunday, 9 January 2022 02:38 (one year ago) link
Oh also when I woke up today I found this written "chase yirsel son, finish up your compendium of left-handed bassists", I AM COMPILING NO SUCH COMPENDIUM so my only guess is that is meant for song lyrics or poetry
― Aberdeen Thugs Kiss All Visiting Fans (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Sunday, 9 January 2022 02:43 (one year ago) link
wearing a t-shirt says "emo-adjacent", that's also a scribbling I need to put in something
― Aberdeen Thugs Kiss All Visiting Fans (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Sunday, 9 January 2022 02:56 (one year ago) link
i really enjoyed reading that! "also my life is one big forest" is something i will remember, hahaha
― Karl Malone, Sunday, 9 January 2022 16:58 (one year ago) link
as far as workrate goes, i'm in a weird temporary thing right now for the next year or two where i don't have a job and i spend my time doing whatever the fuck i want, all the time. it's incredibly self-indulgent and i've only getting to do it by obliterating every dollar i've ever put in any location
― Karl Malone, Sunday, 9 January 2022 17:02 (one year ago) link
for example, i have a list of TO DOs that are getting more urgent - your payments are failing, your prescription is ending, your insurance hasn't started, etc. but instead i'm going to spend the rest of this morning drinking my coffee and working on my baseball poem, because fuck you only live once
― Karl Malone, Sunday, 9 January 2022 17:03 (one year ago) link
also j h m i appreciate your use of capital letters and you sense of parenthetics (in this thread it is ok and good to make up words)
gonna do a quick test to see if this works, using the formatting...
Jonah was tossed overboard and Jesus walked upon a sea of expectations and Kurt Vonnegut’s reminding me so it goes, it’s overflowing, the need for emptiness to continue on as your body craves activity blood vessels carrying oxygen and nutrients
― Karl Malone, Sunday, 9 January 2022 17:55 (one year ago) link
A Dead Armed Pitcher is Not Yet a Man
The path of a pitched baseball can be curv or sl ing urv ing tnarrow or a l lcutt n ing or k u arc's ckl the f ing bends a the wind l lslid ing or drop p ing like a sick stomach having just reached the top of a rollercoaster ride that screams like a rocket until the bottom falls out of it and comes to the most sudden stop
Instead of throwing the ball like any of thatI throw it right down the middleas hard as I canMy ass is handed to me in front of an audience
I grunt when I throw because they asked me tobecause if I don’t they’ll ask why I didn’tbecause they thought it would add a couple miles per hourto my cartoonishly slow and extremely hittable deliveriesThe other kid grunts back as he slaps a loud smack The crowd roars because our team is away and they are safe at homeWe’re 13 years old, I suckedI got roughed up on the usualbut our team had no reliable bullpenso they left me in to soak up the remaining inningsuntil the 10-run rule arrived, the rule of mercy
― Karl Malone, Sunday, 9 January 2022 18:55 (one year ago) link
Movies on black and white tvs in barroomsFred Astaire smiles and a man plays a fluteI was watching him dance in a musical on mute
When a coquette with a curly qsticks three quarters into a table which removesa stop inside of it and prompts sixteen balls to click together as they roll down a slope to her waiting hands
If I’ve seen it twenty times here, I’ll see it againbut I’ve never anything resembling thisshe takes the 6 ball and puts it in one coat pocketthe 4 ball is flipped up in the air as the 9 ball is touching the floor and now it seems like everyone’s staring at her
Cue ball in her left hand, 8 ball in her rightthe green felt under the hanging billiard lighttinted with oranges and yellows and grime
She wound up like a pitcher in the bottom of the 9thlike an old-timey pitcher with the long-winded wind-upWe all saw where she was aiming and where this was going
He started running toward the door when she finally launched itwhere his body had been only a second beforethe mirror exploded and the shattered glass scattered quickas his shadow was seen down the corridorShe grabbed the coat he left behind and walked outsidewith a flick of a cigarette
Later that night as the owner cleaned up and grumbled about the cost of pool ball replacementsthere was something that caught my eyea clear view to the sky, ripped through the ceilingthe size of a cue ball, when did she make that happenwhat else does she make happeni’ll take a manhattanshe paid less than a dollar to make things plainthat’s a good deal in most centuries
― Karl Malone, Sunday, 9 January 2022 22:44 (one year ago) link
You lads <3
― Urbandn hope all ye who enter here (dog latin), Sunday, 9 January 2022 23:32 (one year ago) link
Oh you're "on the spectrum"?We're all on the "spectrum" that's what makes it a spectrumBut some of us use it as a synonymFor "I Act The Dick On The Internet"
Some of us get pennies threwed at our headIn those horrific high school corridorsBut (bosie up, I'll give you a callback)You can feed your family off the subsequent coins
No, we don't use that termIt's ugly, pointed, dismal and tawdryDon't listen to me, a Doctor will tell youBut that doesn't appear on your 5 year plan
It's like Peel saidon first play of New PuritanIF YOU THINK IT'S ABOUT YOU... IT'S ABOUT YOULet's just go back to bed
― Aberdeen Thugs Kiss All Visiting Fans (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Monday, 10 January 2022 01:14 (one year ago) link
6 years into my 5 year plan, and I'm not where I said I'd beSo I live my life in Comic Sans, a forced attempt at levity
3 years on this sofa and still haven't got no sleepBut I live my life in Papyrus, cus I'm ~mystical and deep~
Had my eyes closed when you wrote that note, but I took a sneaky peekTry to live my life in Futura, up to date and somewhat sleek
So next time you need to move your shit just give me a shoutI'm whatever font but Sans Serif, nae fucking about
― Aberdeen Thugs Kiss All Visiting Fans (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Monday, 10 January 2022 01:35 (one year ago) link
Sorry, that one is pretty bad, closer to a party game than a poem, but this is a safe space, right?
― Aberdeen Thugs Kiss All Visiting Fans (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Monday, 10 January 2022 01:37 (one year ago) link
I wrote a poem about my REDACTED but then it seemed too TW-ish to post so I replaced every use of the word REDACTED with REDACTED and now it seems creepily sexual? But in a humorous way so here yis go:
There is no honour in this townBut there are a lot of REDACTEDmostly plastic, yellow and blackhow can I respect you with that toy in your hand?
My REDACTED was my father's REDACTEDMaybe his father's REDACTED before? I dunno, we don't speakThe REDACTED is my father now
Stanley 99E, for whatever that's worthOne side half decayed, but then increasingly shinyAt the top end, rubbed by my fingersAs I grasp it in my pocket
The other side, only the tip is burnishedWhere my thumb residesThe knife hides secretly as I listen to your tiresome anecdoteWaiting for the bigoted punchline
My brother visited my motherWhipped out his REDACTED, to prove he's a big manI just stood back, smirkedKnowing I had the superior REDACTED
And when I sleep tonightI shall hold the cat against my chestBut the REDACTED will be in reachJust in case
It resides on the other side of the bedVacant, except for the REDACTEDBut the REDACTED's presence reassures meBecause I live in REDACTEDTOWN
― Aberdeen Thugs Kiss All Visiting Fans (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Monday, 10 January 2022 03:03 (one year ago) link
Fuck I missed one
― Aberdeen Thugs Kiss All Visiting Fans (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Monday, 10 January 2022 03:05 (one year ago) link
The other side, only the tip is burnishedWhere my thumb residesThe REDACTED hides secretly as I listen to your tiresome anecdoteWaiting for the bigoted punchline
My brother visited my motherWhipped out his REDACTED, to prove he's a big manI just stood back, smirkedKnowing I had the superior REDACTEDAnd when I sleep tonightI shall hold the cat against my chestBut the REDACTED will be in reachJust in case
― Aberdeen Thugs Kiss All Visiting Fans (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Monday, 10 January 2022 03:07 (one year ago) link
And that time somehow I deleted a verse break, but I'm not pasting it thirdwise
― Aberdeen Thugs Kiss All Visiting Fans (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Monday, 10 January 2022 03:09 (one year ago) link
I’m out of milk, out of butter, and eggsBut I don’t think I’ll be headed to the supermarket todayI‘ve eaten and smoked, I’m partly dressedI haven’t washed the dishes yetI’ll be broke soon if I can’t sell somethingand I just broke another french pressit fell with a cracking splash into the sinkas I closed a kitchen cabinetMy pointy elbows poked it off the ledgeI’ve been making a lot of clumsy accidentsand it all started after I started wearing glassesnow I have three plastic plungers and zero carafes
― Karl Malone, Friday, 14 January 2022 17:05 (one year ago) link
Not all messages are displayed: show all messages (371 of them)Can someone tell Batman why not?!?Reply to: pers-164487✧✧✧@craigsl✧✧✧.o✧✧Date: 2006-05-25, 8:25AM EDTcan someone tell Batman why not?!?Why he can't luv Batgurl? Why can't he luv Batgurl? What's wrong with luving Batgurl?Thanks! kisst plus kisses for Batgurl* this is in or around manhattan* yes -- it's ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests164487171
can someone tell Batman why not?!?
Why he can't luv Batgurl? Why can't he luv Batgurl? What's wrong with luving Batgurl?
Thanks! kisst plus kisses for Batgurl
* this is in or around manhattan* yes -- it's ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
― The 25 Best Songs Ever Ranked In Order (Deflatormouse), Monday, 17 January 2022 02:09 (one year ago) link
There was a quiet family in a crooked landand a series of bad hands which came to surround themThey lived within a kind of bewildermentbut thought they were outside of itOne day the heavy fog fell on their porch at dusk
They were watching the oranges and bluesand noting the range of lavender hues on viewbut mostly they were listeningto cicada waves piling up on each other picking up the patterns in their rhythms andgetting their whole story and then somethe decayed phrases phasing and fading in and outpapering over the seams of the loopso there are no beginnings andno endings
only an old dog’s tail which keeps wagging every which way smelling like wet grass shavingsCome and get it while it’s still hotA person that never really wasTheir family lives on the corner of a blockYou might find near the end of the bookas a form of epiloguewhen the rising tension has been resolvedwhen the plot no longer thickensThey see their friends and warmly thank themIt’s as cold as the dickens out there, isn’t itI guess some things never change, do theyThese are the ones we come home tothe ones who have been missing usThat’s the story we like to tell ourselvesnot how it really was
The quiet part has been said quite loudlyCan we roll the credits now?Can we hear an old favorite in a new arrangement?We know something’s wrongbut we don’t have the same explanation for itbut do we have to have the same explanation?I remember when we didDo we at least agree that the sun has gone downNobody says anythingWe could all use a breather
When we step outside the shadows are detachedfrom the objects they used to representthey fill the valleys with a sense of dreadand grow strongest where there is no light at allI think they’re leading us to the bottom of a welland I’m strangely compelled to go along with their planto put a lid on me
to be covered up and let it sink inthat I don’t have the faintest sense of what I’m dealing withthe window is closingPurple and black and darker still until the chill of my breath is the only thing that’s movingSomething small to take full account of
I’ll speak to you in the morningthe rustling wind under your door, whisperingthat something inevitable is approaching
― Karl Malone, Friday, 21 January 2022 05:16 (one year ago) link
I saw a dog at a bus stopbut she wasn’t waiting and neither was anyone elseshe ran through the repair shop’s lotand everyone was moving away or staringShe worked her way a bit down the blockAnd was soon back in the traffic all the tires squeaked but no one honkedshe weaved through the cars likewater through a sieve andwound up west of the King’s Highway
I watched all of this in horror from the driver’s seat of my car from the very center of the same King’s Highwaytraffic rushing toward me from the left and away from the righttrapped from all sides in a left hand turn lane, waiting, having to wait, how long could it stay greenshe was running out in front of my wheels
some of the cars began to come to a stopI looked for anyone who was running toward the dogand found someone holding a leashher hands were in the air, frozen like me it seemed
The dog was back out in the streettire squeaks and still no honkingI put on my right-turn signaland felt the seat belt sting against my neckas my right hand gripped the passenger headrest
like thin rice noodles squeezing through a colanderI couldn’t believe I made it through the moving automobile lines and off of it to a taco bell parking spotand immediately leapt out of my car like a fool who still remembers to lock the door with aremote key while scanning the periphery
I ran down the street to the person with the leashAre you the ownerYes, her name’s NalaWhich way did she goI knew the answer before she answeredI saw itNala had turned off the King’s Highway down an alley
My black jacket made rapid plastic swishing noisesI was wearing gray mesh allbirds shoeswith gray pants and a gray shirtmy hair was lavender and yellow and orange and brownI’m a complete mess, I know itI took off, completely
She was looking at me, she kept looking back at mewhile still barreling down the alleyI turned the corner and ran like the T-1000that I used to be, for about a minuteprobably closer to thirty secondsit was a longer sprint then I can remembersince the pandemicBC AD BCE CEbefore and afterwhen meeting people was easyNala was on a leash and now we can’t find herbut I’m on her tracks, the only one with the sensor
I couldn’t catch my breath, I was pantingI went over the fence and through the back gatethere are no woodsthe alley was grass, then dirt, then concreteNala stands at a pass and looks both waysShe instinctively manuevers t-bones at top speed
Somehow I’m at the main street, the person holding the leash says to me, Her name’s NalaI’m EmmaShe won’t come to meShe knows we’re putting her awayA postal worker overhears usand is filled with disgustWe are one of the obstacles in her dayand I see the leashholder’s face is filled with bruised spotsEmma, she’s laughing and her eyes are emptyNala’s running toward the trainyardI keep chasing
the same landscape, again and againthe gas station, the restaurant, the intersectionthe tire change chain, the telephone lines hanging overthe cars, everywhere cars, starting the carsstarting the story in a car, gradually exiting a careveryone else is in a car, or otherwise waiting for somethingThis is a Thursday afternoon, this is a thousand placesthis is a hero with a thousand facessitting in a car
I almost caught herI was out of breathshe was down the blockabout 200 feet off and I calledNala! Nala, please! The same words from before but with a different texturenow I was down and Nala was the young pupmore than ready to run for another hourNala, please, Nalaand she came to me with her leash dragging on the ground behind herI could see the whites of her eyesin the prime of her prime of her primeand no discipline she came within 5 feet and I jumped the gunwith no discipline, I missed
I reached for the leash but it was beyond my capabilitiesand I saw it disappear down another alleythere was a girl watching and she askedis that your dog?and i said it’s not my pooch but I’m helpingand felt so silly and I sprinted again, off
I never did find herI was eight blocks away from my carI walked back. to my car. the car, the car.
I ordered 2 cheesy bean burritosI was out of breath andforgot to wear my maskand the man at the window hated meI thinkI never found her, I ran out of breath
― Karl Malone, Saturday, 29 January 2022 23:32 (one year ago) link
The street is cold the dawn is gray my heart says no but my head says stay
― calstars, Saturday, 29 January 2022 23:45 (one year ago) link
What a mess.What a horrible mess.
The rest of it, shortly to follow.
Where to begin?
The ending started as a walkwith talk of the “immediate future”.
It started in the garden of Eden.Adam dreamed of an Eveand was relieved of some of his burdens.He needed help and they felt no shame.
Dead end street.
The people in the steeple are dying to meetthe one-winged angel with mangy hair and sores on his feetto be blinded, to be brought to their kneesonce and then twice again.
Dead end street.Dead end street.
People are dying here on Dead End Street.
Here is the rest:
It’s a mess and we’re out of time.An archeologist digging through our wreckmight be disappointed with what they find.
They won’t find these wordslong since windsweptthe way we werethe way you arecannot be capturedI wonder what I have leftand when to leave
I am starting to believe in some thingsthat didn’t make much sense before
― Karl Malone, Thursday, 3 February 2022 01:23 (one year ago) link
I love your poems Ztbd
― assert (matttkkkk), Thursday, 3 February 2022 01:44 (one year ago) link
This is tough going, trying to write poetry in a foreign language + still keep the flow + also establish new words as needed which must follow the etymological formula. Kansky = maybe. Framty = future. Cordy = remember. I've retranslated "undre" to "preem" as new details emerged. I've wrote 4 lines in 6 hours. I need like 8 more whiteboards and a gofundme.
Foory sol kansky nunky de fooryVoo framty mig, forfanny da heyJully preem, sunnerary por preemyNeme cordy tally por "bank"
― The Speak Of The Mearns (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Saturday, 2 July 2022 17:13 (one year ago) link
So I spent all morning trying to translate "numerical midfield superiority" and eventually came up with "siffry park vint", and now I've forgot why that was important. The other thing I got today is "dalto" means "sum", in case that comes up.
― The Speak Of The Mearns (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Sunday, 3 July 2022 12:03 (one year ago) link
I eat poop for breakfastI eat poop for lunchand when it's time for dinneron poop I munchI love the textureI love the crunchand when I'm feeling fancyI eat poop for brunch
― Being cheap is expensive (snoball), Sunday, 3 July 2022 16:34 (one year ago) link
what were you thinkingwhat were you drinkingwhen you signedon that line
they appeared in your videoyou name dropped themon the radioright on time
how can we trust youseems that you will doanything formoney
product placementpaid for your basementrumpus room
Lying on the lino, 6:40am, I'm bringing sweaty backYou walk in the back door, look down and roll your eyesYES I've been to bed, [rapid scan updown your body] unlike SOMEYeah, sofa sounds good, there are cigarettes there
Stop your nipping, I had a heavy dayI touched three dogs on the headAnd went in two different shops and zero freaked outYES accompanied by "Her"
Also established the bigger eggs are laid by the rescued chickensSquinted and Columboed that out
I wish you'd been thereJust so I could see your approving gazeAnd the mildest of smirks
That's how I know you're proud of me
― The Speak Of The Mearns (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Saturday, 9 July 2022 06:56 (one year ago) link
I walked in late for the drummer tryoutsLit a fag, said "give me a mammydaddy"He did it perfect, I said "you're hired!"And went to scrounge up a drink
My hands don't work right, at least the destra doesn'tSo it was always mammydamammydaWhich sounded fine, but was not what I wantedWe need someone with SKILLS
I never turned up for the PA interviewsStarted drinking from stress, walked the hills from stressBut I precoached my preferred candidateSmoke? Cats? Just say "yes"
But, like, with more enthusiasm
No, not that much enthusiasm
― The Speak Of The Mearns (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Saturday, 9 July 2022 07:31 (one year ago) link
The Young One says I swear too much in front of childrenI denied it, then with unintentionally comedic timing immediately shouted FUCK OFF FLY!And stumbled, gesticulating wildlyBecause some beastie was trying to investigate my inner ear
Oh yeah, I do recall barking WOULD YOUSE PAIR OF CUNTS PLEASE NOT!When two flies landed on the Moscow Mule that I had painstakingly prepared for youBut I only swear at insectsAnd anyway, there were no children present then
Exhaled, went to wipe my shades on my shirtAw shit, I'm not wearing a shirtIs there any way I can flex my way out of this?Prolly naw
In fact, good point! Why am I not wearing a shirt?I'm sure I was at some pointThis heat... [turn towards sun, wipe brow dramatically] Makes SAVAGES of us all...
― The Speak Of The Mearns (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Saturday, 9 July 2022 09:06 (one year ago) link
HEY KIDS! Did you ride on the tractor?Pronounce flykiller like it rhymes with DraculaPretend to know the difference between a Jaguar and a Jazzmasterbtw, the name of this band is IMMEDIATE VOID
Spurn the GUITAR children, sus chords are sus!But minor chords are my old friendWho I love but don't quite trustNot to fuck me over in the end
Sorry for the swears, all youse Mammies & GrammiesI know you don't see me as Father MaterialI'll just give a sly wink to those two LadiesWhom I'm PRETTY SURE I fathered their children
Oh, this star, saying "REALLY STRONG"?I stole it from that cheese stallI think I merited itDamn, I'm somewhat drunk...
― The Speak Of The Mearns (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Monday, 25 July 2022 11:06 (one year ago) link
Woke up on the sofa at Stupid O'ClockStumbled to bedroom, The Livingston boy snuggled into meNever opened his eyes, just said I smelt of perfumeYeah I do, he knows fine well why and fine well of whoHe smacked his lips like a schizophrenicLaid on his back with all limbs askewI slept for like 2 hoursWoke up to LOWING, is there cattle in that field now?Could do with a CaprisunWho's gunna fetch it for me? No oneGet up as gently as possibleStill disturbed the cat and the kidThe feline ran to the kitchen, expecting breakfastThe human flipped on all fours, muscles tensed, ready to fightHe denied it later, but he DEFINITELY reached for a non-existent knifeI worry about himBut I know he worries about me more
― The Speak Of The Mearns (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Monday, 1 August 2022 10:50 (one year ago) link
There are many reasons against suicideLike, the lives left behind that it ruinshaving made no sense of itit wasn’t our faultmany reasons not to do itit was no one’s faultwe live with itpushing the glass off of __I’ve had that crazy feeling too
It gets so quietwe don’t need to believebecause it already happened we saw it together
I worry that I have forgotten the wrong thingsbut I am happy to forget so much of itThe scorekeepers lost trackHow many steps until the next switchbackThey’re already up thereI wave up and they don’t see me
Junkyard kidsTripping mom on the restaurant porchthey’re going wild at Dodger stadiumno one wants to leave
― Bruce Stingbean (Karl Malone), Friday, 5 August 2022 05:49 (one year ago) link
Miranda Julyasks where to find the bodiesmaking it through life
I thought why not meknowing some of how to copeafter revivals
One becomes the seawearing down the thickest ropeall-encompassing
On thin lines of smokelifting above fingertipsreliably vanishing
Or going for brokefully expecting hardshipquick hands stuffing coats
Sick of the clinicBorn apart from the wildmore or less alone
Life is no picnicit is an angry childwith dry hungry lips
Now I feel riled— stomach is sick, truth be toldtwo steps from a slip
Please stay a while.Or go back out in the coldfuneral trial
Too young and too oldI asked for nothing but moneythrough the turnstiles
― Bruce Stingbean (Karl Malone), Sunday, 14 August 2022 02:26 (one year ago) link
Oh, the last time we met?The Pig Racing and the Ferret Roulette!He can smirk all he wantsWe both decreed it UNETHICAL
He's away for "a think"I think you're meant to buy me a drinkI assured him we're not fuckingThough we occasionally touch thighflesh
I hadn't worked out who to hateWhen he asked me to "collaborate"Threw me off my heels when I was Going Through Stuff"Just take what you need, I hope it's enough"You're welcome
I need to go for a strollTry and track down that secret groveSit on that stump, prolly smoke, maybe cryNo particular reason whyMaybe die there?
― The Speak Of The Mearns (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Tuesday, 23 August 2022 18:15 (one year ago) link
Yeah you can enter, but she can'tCus this is MY FUCKEN HOUSE, I KEEP IT PHARISEE FREEYeah I can parse further, but not til she takes THREE steps backCus it's also MY FUCKEN PATH
Don't mardyface, I'll stab that right off of youJust cus you share the same daddy as meAnd a former bedroom, just not THIS ONEI remember your sobs while I was being abused
Also remember the last time (he) was roundYou LITERALLY hid in the backyardI made polite, for twothreenine secondsScored more Korean gear than you You had the better hand that timeI think?A socio wifeI maybe pick my life
― The Speak Of The Mearns (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Saturday, 3 September 2022 10:25 (one year ago) link
You spied my cashcard, called me out by my government nameYeah I go by my middle name, what of it?My first name gets me punched in the head round here
My first name designates me as CatholicI mean, I'm not, I grew up CoSBut went to Catholic school in a Catholic place
So my middle name is safer, but then obtuselyI wear my medals outside my shirtSo still get beaten, but at least I'm asking for it
I secretly appreciate it, it helps me focus
― The Speak Of The Mearns (Jonathan Hellion Mumble), Saturday, 3 September 2022 20:58 (one year ago) link
I need to focusTo clear up somethingSomewhat easy to miss
Some would say troublingIn its insidiousnessInsular forms of reasoning
Insofar as it can be glimpsedAt all, the new calamityCalling out to the senseless
Coalition of the willingFools we have knownKnowingly voting for cruelty
No one answering their phonesSo some polls got unreliableUnrelenting pessimism soaks to the bone
Unreadable offenses to thoughtful soulsfound in the local paper’s op-ed sectionsset aside for professional trolls
Suffice to say don’t read the commentswhere the point is to keep the lies aflameAfloat and unextinguished
A fly could feel more shameSlipping in while the window is closingClinging to clothing and lacking a name
― Karl Malone, Wednesday, 28 September 2022 20:20 (one year ago) link
I Share My Bed with a Large Dog
After I’ve rumpled the sheetswrestled and tossed and turnedAfter I’ve seen you shake in your dreamsand pulled you back from your apprehensions
After the deep breathing and chests heaving stretching and whining and wide yawning snoresAfter the first sun shows on the ceilingslips down the wall, the dresser, the floor
After your nose starts to sound like a whistle I raise my phone to check in on the weatherAfter you have seen me move you feel betterYour brown eyes wide open and paw pads like leather
only after that —and after the your sharp elbows rib my core —only after all of that could we crawl out of bed
― Karl Malone, Wednesday, 5 October 2022 02:15 (one year ago) link
I’d stuff my pockets by the fistfulWith stones known for nothing less Than cleaning hearts out clear as crystalReturning them new and baby fresh
I’d unclench my fists and feel a new absenceTension loosened like overlong lassoThe sense of heaviness vacating the chestLike long sustaining chords on a piano
I’d tear down the dust choked carpet curtainsOpen the windows and let the cold thin air inTake away all of this furniture, I don’t want itLet this space take a full measure of its emptinessUnadorned and full dimensionedStrip the paint off, every last bitLeave it to be whatever it is
― Karl Malone, Friday, 11 November 2022 06:42 (one year ago) link
I’d stuff my pockets by the fistfulWith sharp stones notoriousfor cleaning hearts out clear as crystalReturning them new and baby fresh
I’d unclench my fists and note the absenceOf age old tension like an overlong lassoLying on the sand and dripping on the fenceThe sense of heaviness vacating the chestlike hanging chords from a detuned piano
I’d tear down the dust soaked curtainsOpen the windows and let the cold thin air inTake away all of this furniture, it’s not neededLet this space approximate its emptinessUnadorned and full dimensionedStrip the paint off, make it raw againscraping straight through to the empty canvasThe underpainting shaping the form and the contentUnrelenting waves confusing and enchanting us
Drills and hammering and echoes and shiveringWe left too loudly and came home whispering
― Karl Malone, Sunday, 13 November 2022 06:44 (one year ago) link
rain as a noun, rain as a verbrain on the soaked wings of a birdrain on tin, as seen through a thin umbrellaon the cold lakeon the cold tent
rain in 4K, osaka at dawnrain on the drought patched lawnrain out the game which won’t be replayedbouncing off plastic helmetsmuddy puddles on hard clay
rain so i can evaporaterain on the spot where he laysrain like it has never fallen beforecoming in under the doorpushing up against the floorboards
rain scatter our travel patternsslippery green, serpentinerain filling up the old ravineup to the ankles deep, tremblingrain make us clean
rain unaccountablyoverwhelming the systems of registryovercome efforts to understandrain and suddenly go, freeze on snowoverwhelm the world we don’t know
rain down in the catacombsrain drip off our lips as we kissoffend the dead and spirits unseenwe dance the dance of unforgivenessrain on my suffering, rain on my last chance
rain until we are entrancedrain on your wedding daybreak me up then steady my handcover my sidewalk, make me slippeak through the door and see me sullen
keep going and goingscare off my daylightgive us a free carwashcover it up, rain make it okayrain keep falling, rain wash us away
― President of Destiny Encounters International (Karl Malone), Monday, 20 February 2023 04:29 (nine months ago) link
I’m embarrassed by what I might doIf you would like me 2
Everything in me is now on sale for free There is nearly nothing I would not rearrangeWithout question, quite openlyEverything within may be removed or amended, without hesitation or prior permission
I held a grand reopening of my bodyAnd it was poorly attendedI overheard them noting that there didn’t seemTo be a significant change in my construction
I hoped the ease with which I discarded my beliefsWould be described charitably as adaptabilityAnd was glad when it wasn’t part of the conversation
Would I disavow what I knew to be trueIf you would like me 2
There is no coherence in the centerOf an oblong shape with a wavy perimeterUnevenly balanced and laboring strangely Like a pilot at night with a broken altimeter
So tell me what to do and I will changeI’ll preemptively meet you halfwayRepetitively, paradoxically Until our atoms are just about touching
How I’d latch onto your lineIf you would like me 2
― z_tbd, Tuesday, 7 March 2023 21:30 (eight months ago) link
The old bastard pretends He can’t use his phone.
He holds it far away from his face, dramatically Perches his glasses on the tip of his nose.
He objects to speed. Ethically. Aesthetically. He doesn’t understand that speed is a form of simplicity,
Which is happiness. He is a poet.
― treeship., Friday, 24 March 2023 01:36 (eight months ago) link
love that, treeship
― it's a new day in the international landscape (z_tbd), Friday, 24 March 2023 01:49 (eight months ago) link
at the speed we’re goingit’s hard to believethat an hour has passedlong telephone polespass through our windowkeeping unreliable time
i want to be full of wisdomlike eight toddlers in a lineholding onto a ropeon a sidewalk strollwho don’t care where they’re goingand the teacher who is pulling
we’re both on the fish oilmine fills a soft pillyours pumps in uneven lumpsfrom the slippery bottleI keep in the fridgeby the milk and the eggs
knowing our moment will arriveand it can never be too late
in support of my mental wellbeingwhatever that meansand to help your muscles weakenat a less rapid ratewe swallow fish oil
deep sleep under my feeti’m wide awake, listeningto the dream of frisbee in the teethrunning back toward me
― it's a new day in the international landscape (z_tbd), Saturday, 15 April 2023 02:45 (seven months ago) link
fuck man, stop doing this to me!
― assert (matttkkkk), Saturday, 15 April 2023 04:15 (seven months ago) link
haha, uh oh! hope it's a good thing, or at least not a bad thing :)
― it's a new day in the international landscape (z_tbd), Saturday, 15 April 2023 13:24 (seven months ago) link
Genuinely, you should talk to a publisher, or at least get them out there
― assert (matttkkkk), Saturday, 15 April 2023 14:09 (seven months ago) link
oh, i feel very lucky to get to know a zine/poem/art/music crew recently. they make a zine where anyone can contribute, so i submitted something recently and usually read a few things out loud every month or two. i get to play new music for that same crowd too, and have joined a couple new bands, shows coming up, etc. it does make a world of a difference to know that when you're working on something new, there are people to share it with soon afterward. i haven't really had that outlet for a really long time so i'm holding onto it for dear life now :)
― it's a new day in the international landscape (z_tbd), Saturday, 15 April 2023 18:50 (seven months ago) link
― assert (matttkkkk), Monday, 17 April 2023 14:07 (seven months ago) link
my limo arrives with blown out back windowscovered by plastic and spattered by raindriven by a man in a santa hatwhose beard is black and patchy with gray
when the wheels stop spinning I step right into a coniferous interior with Christmas tree scentwhere thick vines grow in place of seat beltsand soft pine needles thread lines of indigo
his grin is crooked, his sunglasses tintedthe dusty dashboard is scorched and bent ina disco ball jumps when the light turns greenand the bumper sticker on the crumpled trunk reads
may we meet again
― it's a new day in the international landscape (z_tbd), Thursday, 20 April 2023 16:37 (seven months ago) link
we were flies in a beehivecarried by transparent wings flickeringand unheard in the swarm’s buzz stormlooking for an exit to the building
we were drawn into the mysteryby its qualities of ambiguity
these leaves aren’t deadthey found the ground and leaptaround toward new homeson fallen trees along the riverbed
those were the dayswhen we cared lessabout lost sleep becauseour dreams were frequent and vividand the wakeful life loved and lived in
― z_tbd, Tuesday, 25 April 2023 23:34 (seven months ago) link
i see. the ac exhaust pushing the leavesmy broken toe walk tilting heavilyworking down the shallow slope like a slow drifting toward the deepend of the pool past the last black stripesundulating on the surface of the waterbut still at the bottom, the lower the pressure
from here you can see the sun risenow I’m on a pleasant streaki may never go to sleep again
― z_tbd, Thursday, 27 April 2023 18:47 (seven months ago) link
pay what you can for a diyelectro show in a basement
the upside-down singer bitdown on the mic and offerednoise stabs from their abdomenear plugs absorbed some of itwhat did pass through was too trueto be heard in quiet roomsbut struck a chord in mosh pits
the smoke machine shook and pushedwaves of silver tipped clouds at usthe bruise-kneed crowd wanted moreheavy chains to whip at feetstanding still along the wallboozy lips and rose-kissed cheekswant for water, thirst for sweat
― z_tbd, Sunday, 7 May 2023 21:10 (six months ago) link
a horseshoe hangs over the front doora traffic light over the restrooma barrel with a checker boardsits in front of the fireplace
on mother’s day at cracker barrel the parking lot is completely fullbrowsers crowd the old country storeand behold the forty dollar snow globe
our eyes scan the decorthe new menu features boozy drinksthird verse same as the firstchicken fried chickenearly online check-inchicken fried chicken
it’s 11 am, the server has three starsshe asks about cream and sugaras we play tabletop solitaireI leave three pegs behind and i’m just plain dumbhashbrown casserole for the breakfast side
home is where
the propane gas grillstill has the price tags onstring dangles from stainless steel handles by a freshly cut lawn
roasted bell peppers flakingon the cooking island station
chromium plating control knobsporcelain enamel wire cooking gratesmade to complement any outdoor spacethe backyard, garden, or terracethe balcony or the courtyard
― z_tbd, Monday, 15 May 2023 21:37 (six months ago) link
the lights in my homeare bluetoothed to a phonesometimes i move to turn them onbut minutes pass in darknessand notifications keep me aloneas i do chores in bluish tonesfrom my sofa
the checklists fall into my bottomless pitthat’s not at all like the world we touchmore like the interior invisible thick
i switch my lights to redand the effect to candle flickerdimmed to thirty percentthe insides of my lids are feda prehistoric ambience
― z_tbd, Sunday, 21 May 2023 20:55 (six months ago) link
i never write poetry but had a thought today at work....
If I was a record,you might notice some fraying at the corners,minor ring wear, andlight surface scratches.
There might be a small splitat the center of my spine,some spindle marks on the labels,or foxing to the back panel.
I still play fine,with mile surface noise, but groove wear is becoming audibleat the end of each side.
― ian, Thursday, 25 May 2023 19:30 (six months ago) link
"mild". but okay
must be that country magic when a twist makes blinds open and the trees swaylike great masts tilting against sea waveslimbs and trunks alike bend with the windwith flapping leaves of flickering sequins
― z_tbd, Sunday, 4 June 2023 19:27 (five months ago) link
we want to playwe’d rather not be aparti don’t want to leave, i saybut it’s not my yard
it’s yours, wet nose pressed against the windowsoft dog gray ears foldedin under their own weightperfectly old, your favorite shows
i seem to have turned into a pumpkinforgetting how to walkbeginning to crawl in the tall lawn
widening path lined withdreams steamed in cool bathsdon't leave don’t come back
see the chests holding breathswaiting for the real forgivenessfrom voices inside of their heads
it’s a long walkthe way they talkand don't talk
i drove so badly the guy inthe car behind me said what is wrong with America
butter soaked texas toastlands on the panand starts to sizzle
garlic in oil, old water boilsa cup of hot teawith honey drizzles
your hands are candlesaloft and softtapered and chiseled
your warmth melts me
real slow out the windowpart-time barfliesdo fine on bells and whistles
― z_tbd, Monday, 31 July 2023 16:09 (four months ago) link
shovels in the sky marine blue bleed viridian greenon the treetop canopy
at a glance it’s broccoli
― z_tbd, Wednesday, 2 August 2023 19:00 (four months ago) link
feed the thirsty vampire kidpopping wheelies in the backyardhoping somebody is watching
the puddle waves are partingas they swerve through to get the wheels wetand leave tire tracks in the garden
riding pegs in the sunsetin a straight-leg kneelocked stancematched by their fading silhouettes
tucked in shoelaces and rolled up pantswhy hold onto anythingdon’t forget to give it back
― z_tbd, Friday, 4 August 2023 16:21 (three months ago) link
if I knew how to actI’d sell a million books and a half
I read what you write instead
if i knew what was wrongi’d make it right if i could
i wonder if i’m in over my head
hallelujah for the starsthank you for being herefor being exactly who you are
thank you for making my cheeks go red
― z_tbd, Friday, 11 August 2023 17:04 (three months ago) link
when he sang the dictionary— bless his heart it landed spot onin parts of brain wavesthat are hard to make much sense ofbut still, lodged in there all the same
long after, the echoes of his wordsbounced around in our thoughtsthe high F to the low Gimpressing us asynchronouslyto the day of his performancelulling and surging independently of the original occurrence
my memory of it kept changinguntil it no longer resembled his songand i no longer believed what i thought
he might have sung the telephone bookthe addresses, phone numbers, and zip codeshe would convert each line to a melodyand belt out the surname especially loudly
i believe he may have been the first to sing the world book encyclopedia, 1997just the last paragraphs of each entryhe told me but i no longer remember clearly
― i really like that!! (z_tbd), Thursday, 24 August 2023 23:51 (three months ago) link
~bless his heart
when he sang the dictionaryit burrowed into parts of neuronsthat are hard to make much sense ofbut still, lodged in there, spot on
i'm told he sang the telephone bookthe addresses, phone numbers, and zip codesconverting each line to a melodyand belting out the surnames especially loudly
i believe he may have been the first to sing the world book encyclopedia, 1997only the last paragraph of each entryhe told me much more than i could evertrust myself to accurately remember
long afterward, the echoes of his musicbounced around in our thoughtsthe high F to the low Gimpressing us asynchronouslyto the day of his performancetunefully lulling and surging independently of the origins of their occurrence
the sounds in my memories kept changinguntil they no longer resembled his songand i no longer believed in what i thoughti'd heard so clearly
― i really like that!! (z_tbd), Friday, 25 August 2023 17:16 (three months ago) link
Reading in the morningReading at nightReading old booksReading new booksReading on the busReading on the trainReading on the stairsReading
― calstars, Saturday, 16 September 2023 18:06 (two months ago) link
People Wherever you goPeople
― calstars, Friday, 22 September 2023 23:10 (two months ago) link
still writing a bunch! here are some that i wrote a while back and still like:
i can play most songsif you give me a minutelumped in the tub filled to the brimwatching the showsstretching my toesswirling the suds
here’s the life cordwrapped to your wristit gives us the minute
here on the soft downylawn of the back of your headwe don’t check the weatherso much as stepping so lightlyshaking like an overwhelmed witnessspeaking of growth of goodnessplease come home nowand make your nest
when it’s warmest we paint each other’s dreams
what is wrong the words i chosewhen is the show don’t stay long squinting in the parking lot waiting on a shoe to drop
who are you frozen augustill and dogged tried and true torn up tickets at the gate laminated student rates
don’t be mine no good moneyunbecoming until the time
to arrive in the smoky glow of unknowing unraveling
you had hardly knocked when I said come on inwrap yourself up in my heavy blanketit was a gift we can share it
i lifted the fabricup and over our heads from the darkness we peered outthrough crocheted stitchesin air which was warm and thick
we were furniturefor a long time it was like this
the leaves try to flyfor the first and last time
i like you as you aresunset landing from afari like what you’ve run intoand how it changes
things i do now that i know you
i make sound effects when i walki keep my right foot planted and pivot aroundi stretch my arms long to reach the groundup coffee and when i pour it say “pew pew!”
― i really like that!! (z_tbd), Friday, 17 November 2023 22:12 (two weeks ago) link
― i really like that!! (z_tbd), Friday, 17 November 2023 22:15 (two weeks ago) link
I think you’ve got about 10 poems there bro
― calstars, Friday, 17 November 2023 23:07 (two weeks ago) link
i didn't even post the others! there were like 30 poems there
― i really like that!! (z_tbd), Friday, 17 November 2023 23:10 (two weeks ago) link
limbo is a container for timewhere one waits for godotand knows how low one can gohow long one can hold ontoa breath before it hurts in the chestwith pinprick moments of silencehanging in the upper halves of windowslike potted plants watching gardensglow in the twilight, wanting to know
― z_tbd, Wednesday, 29 November 2023 18:22 (three days ago) link