It's ok to write poems and put them here

A Dead Armed Pitcher is Not Yet a Man

The path of a pitched baseball 
can be curv    or sl
           ing      urv
                       ing
          t
narrow or a  
          l
          l
cutt        n
    ing or k u                    arc's
              ckl              the      f
                 ing      bends         a
                 the wind               l
                                        l
slid
    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 that
I throw it right down the middle
as hard as I can
My ass is handed to me in front of an audience

I grunt when I throw because they asked me to
because if I don’t they’ll ask why I didn’t
because they thought it would add a couple miles per hour
to my cartoonishly slow and extremely hittable deliveries
The other kid grunts back as he slaps a loud smack
The crowd roars because our team is away and they are safe at home
We’re 13 years old, I sucked
I got roughed up on the usual
but our team had no reliable bullpen
so they left me in to soak up the remaining innings
until the 10-run rule arrived, the rule of mercy

Pool

Movies on black and white tvs in barrooms
Fred Astaire smiles and a man plays a flute
I was watching him dance in a musical on mute

When a coquette with a curly q
sticks three quarters into a table which removes
a 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 again
but I’ve never anything resembling this
she takes the 6 ball and puts it in one coat pocket
the 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 right
the green felt under the hanging billiard light
tinted with oranges and yellows and grime

She wound up like a pitcher in the bottom of the 9th
like an old-timey pitcher with the long-winded wind-up
We all saw where she was aiming and where this was going

He started running toward the door
when she finally launched it
where his body had been only a second before
the mirror exploded and the shattered glass scattered quick
as his shadow was seen down the corridor
She grabbed the coat he left behind and walked outside
with a flick of a cigarette

Later that night as the owner cleaned up
and grumbled about the cost of pool ball replacements
there was something that caught my eye
a clear view to the sky, ripped through the ceiling
the size of a cue ball, when did she make that happen
what else does she make happen
i’ll take a manhattan
she paid less than a dollar to make things plain
that’s a good deal in most centuries

You lads <3

Oh you're "on the spectrum"?
We're all on the "spectrum" that's what makes it a spectrum
But some of us use it as a synonym
For "I Act The Dick On The Internet"

Some of us get pennies threwed at our head
In those horrific high school corridors
But (bosie up, I'll give you a callback)
You can feed your family off the subsequent coins

No, we don't use that term
It's ugly, pointed, dismal and tawdry
Don't listen to me, a Doctor will tell you
But that doesn't appear on your 5 year plan

It's like Peel said
on first play of New Puritan
IF YOU THINK IT'S ABOUT YOU... IT'S ABOUT YOU
Let's just go back to bed

6 years into my 5 year plan, and I'm not where I said I'd be
So I live my life in Comic Sans, a forced attempt at levity

3 years on this sofa and still haven't got no sleep
But 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 peek
Try 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 shout
I'm whatever font but Sans Serif, nae fucking about

Sorry, that one is pretty bad, closer to a party game than a poem, but this is a safe space, right?

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 town
But there are a lot of REDACTED
mostly plastic, yellow and black
how can I respect you with that toy in your hand?

My REDACTED was my father's REDACTED
Maybe his father's REDACTED before?
I dunno, we don't speak
The REDACTED is my father now

Stanley 99E, for whatever that's worth
One side half decayed, but then increasingly shiny
At the top end, rubbed by my fingers
As I grasp it in my pocket

The other side, only the tip is burnished
Where my thumb resides
The knife hides secretly as I listen to your tiresome anecdote
Waiting for the bigoted punchline

My brother visited my mother
Whipped out his REDACTED, to prove he's a big man
I just stood back, smirked
Knowing I had the superior REDACTED

And when I sleep tonight
I shall hold the cat against my chest
But the REDACTED will be in reach
Just in case

It resides on the other side of the bed
Vacant, except for the REDACTED
But the REDACTED's presence reassures me
Because I live in REDACTEDTOWN

Fuck I missed one

Better:

There is no honour in this town
But there are a lot of REDACTED
mostly plastic, yellow and black
how can I respect you with that toy in your hand?

My REDACTED was my father's REDACTED
Maybe his father's REDACTED before?
I dunno, we don't speak
The REDACTED is my father now

Stanley 99E, for whatever that's worth
One side half decayed, but then increasingly shiny
At the top end, rubbed by my fingers
As I grasp it in my pocket

The other side, only the tip is burnished
Where my thumb resides
The REDACTED hides secretly as I listen to your tiresome anecdote
Waiting for the bigoted punchline

My brother visited my mother
Whipped out his REDACTED, to prove he's a big man
I just stood back, smirked
Knowing I had the superior REDACTED
And when I sleep tonight
I shall hold the cat against my chest
But the REDACTED will be in reach
Just in case

It resides on the other side of the bed
Vacant, except for the REDACTED
But the REDACTED's presence reassures me
Because I live in REDACTEDTOWN

And that time somehow I deleted a verse break, but I'm not pasting it thirdwise

I’m out of milk, out of butter, and eggs
But I don’t think I’ll be headed to the supermarket today
I‘ve eaten and smoked, I’m partly dressed
I haven’t washed the dishes yet
I’ll be broke soon if I can’t sell something
and I just broke another french press
it fell with a cracking splash into the sink
as I closed a kitchen cabinet
My pointy elbows poked it off the ledge
I’ve been making a lot of clumsy accidents
and it all started after I started wearing glasses
now I have three plastic plungers and zero carafes

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 EDT

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

164487171

There was a quiet family in a crooked land
and a series of bad hands which came to surround them
They lived within a kind of bewilderment
but thought they were outside of it
One day the heavy fog fell on their porch at dusk

They were watching the oranges and blues
and noting the range of lavender hues on view
but mostly they were listening
to cicada waves piling up on each other
picking up the patterns in their rhythms and
getting their whole story and then some
the decayed phrases phasing and fading in and out
papering over the seams of the loop
so there are no beginnings and
no endings

only an old dog’s tail which keeps wagging
every which way smelling like wet grass shavings
Come and get it while it’s still hot
A person that never really was
Their family lives on the corner of a block
You might find near the end of the book
as a form of epilogue
when the rising tension has been resolved
when the plot no longer thickens
They see their friends and warmly thank them
It’s as cold as the dickens out there, isn’t it
I guess some things never change, do they
These are the ones we come home to
the ones who have been missing us
That’s the story we like to tell ourselves
not how it really was

The quiet part has been said quite loudly
Can we roll the credits now?
Can we hear an old favorite in a new arrangement?
We know something’s wrong
but we don’t have the same explanation for it
but do we have to have the same explanation?
I remember when we did
Do we at least agree that the sun has gone down
Nobody says anything
We could all use a breather

When we step outside the shadows are detached
from the objects they used to represent
they fill the valleys with a sense of dread
and grow strongest where there is no light at all
I think they’re leading us to the bottom of a well
and I’m strangely compelled to go along with their plan
to put a lid on me
to be covered up and let it sink in
that I don’t have the faintest sense of what I’m dealing with
the window is closing
Purple and black and darker still until
the chill of my breath is the only thing that’s moving
Something small to take full account of

I’ll speak to you in the morning
the rustling wind under your door, whispering
that something inevitable is approaching

King’s Highway

I saw a dog at a bus stop
but she wasn’t waiting and neither was anyone else
she ran through the repair shop’s lot
and everyone was moving away or staring
She worked her way a bit down the block
And was soon back in the traffic
all the tires squeaked but no one honked
she weaved through the cars like
water through a sieve and
wound 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 Highway
traffic rushing toward me from the left and away from the right
trapped from all sides in a left hand turn lane, waiting, having to wait,
how long could it stay green
she was running out in front of my wheels

some of the cars began to come to a stop
I looked for anyone who was running toward the dog
and found someone holding a leash
her hands were in the air, frozen like me it seemed

The dog was back out in the street
tire squeaks and still no honking
I put on my right-turn signal
and felt the seat belt sting against my neck
as my right hand gripped the passenger headrest

like thin rice noodles squeezing through a colander
I couldn’t believe I made it through
the moving automobile lines and off of it
to a taco bell parking spot
and immediately leapt out of my car like a fool
who still remembers to lock the door with a
remote key while scanning the periphery

I ran down the street to the person with the leash
Are you the owner
Yes, her name’s Nala
Which way did she go
I knew the answer before she answered
I saw it
Nala had turned off the King’s Highway down an alley

My black jacket made rapid plastic swishing noises
I was wearing gray mesh allbirds shoes
with gray pants and a gray shirt
my hair was lavender and yellow and orange and brown
I’m a complete mess, I know it
I took off, completely

She was looking at me, she kept looking back at me
while still barreling down the alley
I turned the corner and ran like the T-1000
that I used to be, for about a minute
probably closer to thirty seconds
it was a longer sprint then I can remember
since the pandemic
BC AD BCE CE
before and after
when meeting people was easy
Nala was on a leash and now we can’t find her
but I’m on her tracks, the only one with the sensor

I couldn’t catch my breath, I was panting
I went over the fence and through the back gate
there are no woods
the alley was grass, then dirt, then concrete
Nala stands at a pass and looks both ways
She 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 Nala
I’m Emma
She won’t come to me
She knows we’re putting her away
A postal worker overhears us
and is filled with disgust
We are one of the obstacles in her day
and I see the leashholder’s face is filled with bruised spots
Emma, she’s laughing and her eyes are empty
Nala’s running toward the trainyard
I keep chasing

the same landscape, again and again
the gas station, the restaurant, the intersection
the tire change chain, the telephone lines hanging over
the cars, everywhere cars, starting the cars
starting the story in a car, gradually exiting a car
everyone else is in a car, or otherwise waiting for something
This is a Thursday afternoon, this is a thousand places
this is a hero with a thousand faces
sitting in a car

I almost caught her
I was out of breath
she was down the block
about 200 feet off and I called
Nala! Nala, please!
The same words from before but with a different texture
now I was down and Nala was the young pup
more than ready to run for another hour
Nala, please, Nala
and she came to me with her leash dragging
on the ground behind her
I could see the whites of her eyes
in the prime of her prime of her prime
and no discipline
she came within 5 feet and I jumped the gun
with no discipline, I missed

I reached for the leash but it was beyond my capabilities
and I saw it disappear down another alley
there was a girl watching and she asked
is that your dog?
and i said it’s not my pooch but I’m helping
and felt so silly and I sprinted again, off

I never did find her
I was eight blocks away from my car
I walked back. to my car.
the car, the car.

I ordered 2 cheesy bean burritos
I was out of breath and
forgot to wear my mask
and the man at the window hated me
I think
I never found her, I ran out of breath

The street is cold the dawn is gray my heart says no but my head says stay

What a mess.
What a horrible mess.

The rest of it, shortly to follow.

Where to begin?

The ending started as a walk
with talk of the “immediate future”.

It started in the garden of Eden.
Adam dreamed of an Eve
and 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 meet
the one-winged angel with mangy hair and sores on his feet
to be blinded, to be brought to their knees
once 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 wreck
might be disappointed with what they find.

They won’t find these words
long since windswept
the way we were
the way you are
cannot be captured
I wonder what I have left
and when to leave

I am starting to believe in some things
that didn’t make much sense before

I love your poems Ztbd

that's nice of you to say, thank you! still working on that one a bit, but mainly hoping the kinks don't sue me :-o

also the occurrence of my life being "a mess" is starting to spike, this is alarming! shit

King's Highway and Skip to my Lou are the highlights for me

king's highway is a true story! it happened just the other day. it was simultaneously the most intense exercise i've had in several years and a very, very sad experience. i couldn't really capture any of it. the saddest part was the end, when the dog darted down a sidepath and through someone's backyard yet again, and i knew i was giving up. she had done this maybe 5-7 times already, in the past 20 minutes of chasing, and each time i would run down the street, up the alleys and behind the backyards, and somehow i'd catch a glimpse of her running off somewhere else, always 100 feet away, and i'd kept going. but this time i was just out of breath, and also i had run into the owner one more time and she was a walking drug casualty, just laughing off her dog sprinting through heavy traffic and near accidents and some weirdass stranger running all through the neighborhood after her, asking "did any of you see an off leash dog?" and getting absolutely ZERO answers from anyone, from a dozen different people, just nothing

My uncles are overly mouthy
They have no idea just what is coming
My and my brother just sit and smirk
We both know fine well

My uncles aren't really my uncles
they're like my cousins, once removed? twice removed?
Don't get me wrong, they're really fine fellows
Just no brains in their heads

My brother takes me outside
Wants to smoke a CIGAR with me
Oh ok, but this makes me dizzy
I prefer heroin

Back inside, plaster on a smile
(I'd made a visit to my room, there was heroin)
Those same uncles still in my face
They don't know about the coming flood

And then two years pass
The flood came, I live on the hill
My uncles live in the valley
Don't know what came of them

Actually I need to replace that line "they don't know about the coming flood", I'd rather leave the flood unmentioned until it actually arrives, ken? Otherwise I'm happy with what I just wrote right now

"they don't know about the heroin" I suppose is the relevant substitute

I went back to my room
Stumbled once, hit my knee on the sink
Not a big deal, let's get back to it
Some conversation about football

^^insert that in there

haha, i like these uncles! these dumb butts talking about football, taking over your space

Reconciliation

We’re sitting in your garage, this evening
with the wide door open and it’s 46 degrees
two lawn chairs and two hot teas
peppermint of the Bigelow with no caffeine

It’s been 9 months since I talked to you
It’s been 10 and a half since he died and
It’s been 12 months since he went to the hospital

My neighbor is of the same belief
She feels sorry for me
she says the vaccine causes mass infertility

Last week I scraped the ice off her car, my neighbor’s car
It took about half an hour
and I felt like a good son
or a good someone who managed to do a good something
I thought I used to do a good something everyday
Now I write a poem to commemorate

We poured dog-friendly salt on the stairs to the street
She has a job caretaking for the elderly
and has your same first name and is of the same age
but in other ways she is nothing like you
She’s an artist with her own studio
She prays the rosary

Am I allowed near Avalon
if I don’t want to be
If I don’t know how to laugh
at a joke like that
When I’m still talking and no one’s listening
except myself, and barely at that

Yet I think I’m the only voice of reason
in this situation
The one who knew to stay inside
The one who knew it would get so bad
two weeks earlier than most people did
here comes the jeremiad

…
No, this time I don’t think I’ll share that
not this time, I still want you to laugh
and I don’t want you to get caught up
in the long tail unreasonable stuff
that the bulk of us seem to be stuck i

n

I heard a speedboat caught a wave and hopped
right over a dock
It started in the ocean
It landed in the bay
Someone was underneath the boat when it happened
I’ve never seen anything quite like that, they said
It flew right over my head
They were dry and he was soaking wet

I heard this same boat sped straight through the inlet
luckily the beachgoers took notice and fled
as the lifeguard took a video from the lookout perch
the back of an 18-wheeler opened up
and extended a ramp out into the water
the ship accepted the lift
twin mechanical amphibians
the boat slid up into the big rig
which took off with a pop and a shower of smoke

I heard a firetruck showed up in the aftermath
and as the crowd was dispersing some drunk man said
What are they gonna do, put out the ocean?!
and no one laughed or made eye contact
so this guy yelled it again, and his voice cracked -
Are they gonna put out the wa-ter?
the captive audience cringed and dispersed at greater distances
and a little kid kept asking Wait, what happened?

i am trying to be less longwinded

changed middle to

I heard this same boat sped straight through the inlet
luckily the beachgoers took notice and fled
as the lifeguard took a video from their lookout perch
the back of an 18-wheeler opened up
and extended a long metal ramp
the ship met the lift and skipped from water to land
mechanical amphibians
the boat slid up into the big rig
which then took off with a shower of gross smoke

one more once:

I heard this same boat sped straight through the inlet
luckily the beachgoers took notice and fled
as the lifeguard took a video from their lookout perch
the back of an 18-wheeler opened up
and extended a long metal ramp
the ship hit the lift and slid into the big rig
skipping from water onto land
mechanical amphibian
the truck took off and left a shower of gross smoke

Here's a short something I wrote back in 2008, working as a dishwasher in a restaurant in the middle of nowhere. I don't know if it's good or if it's embarrassing:

Over dishwater steam I witness
my gorgeous intentions crumbling.
Feta cheese over mixed greens.

Immersed in scalding water
my lobster-red hands reach for the stopper
and pull.

that brings up non-fond memories of washing dishes at long john silvers, back in the day
i was so slow, somehow, the slowest. the managers hated working with me because i'd still be washing the fucking dishes when they finished up the register

Aw, that sucks. The place I worked at was slow enough that I often had spare time to think up tiny poems I still remember 14 years later. I actually sorta liked that job. Free food and fairly low expectations.

me and my dog have a running gag about works in progress. they're called works in pawgress. :P

On tonight’s
unsolved mystery
An ordinary man
facing an uncertain destiny
pulled back the curtains
and dug beneath the leaves
a car pulled up into the driveway
he didn’t recognize the driver
he brought in some groceries
the blinds closed
the smoke alarm was out of batteries
the garbage can was overflowing
the dog kept whining
the key didn’t fit the lock
the basement door is open
the botched wood filling job
the siding is crumbling
the third floor balcony
the broken statue in the morning

soundtrack: ba-Dom ba-Dom-ba Dom bum, ba-Dom ba-Dom-ba Dom BING____

Z I hope you have a more permanent archive and a way to reach a wider audience, these are great and have a real "voice". Genuinely great writing for my money.

these are great

thank you both, that's very encouraging, i appreciate it!

i just keep them in the most permanent place of all: a Notes note called "uh oh it's poetry time again"

the most permanent tbd place on the internet:

http://zachtbd.xyz/poems.html

Unsolved Mystery

On tonight’s
unsolved mystery
An ordinary man
facing an uncertain destiny
pulled back the curtains
and dug beneath the leaves
a car pulled into the alley
an unrecognized driver
who brought in some groceries
the blinds closed
the smoke alarm was out of batteries
the garbage can was overflowing
the dog kept whining
the front key didn’t fit the lock
the basement door is wide open
the faucet and the drain are corroding
the botched job is still unfinished
the siding is crumbling
the third floor balcony
the broken statue in the morning

He parked up there near the river
near the fire that’s still burning
there is a road that goes over and around
someone is watching from the trees
observing an actor in an reenactment
describing the criminal act as witnessed
to a detective in a too-long tan overcoat
that brushes up against the wet grass
and the mud keeps them sliding
across the scene of the crime
this case has become rather slippery
the slate of evidence has been wiped clean

If you or anyone you know has any information
about the cases you've seen
please contact your local law enforcement officials
and tell them that you will be investigating
because you can’t count on them to follow-up competently
or promptly
or meticulously
or at all

Tell them that you’re filming a movie
a documentary about what may have been seen
one loud blue night by the cataracts
the spectacular cascades were hiding
the end of a span of life
a body with a water-logged chest
opposite of emptiness
could not catch a breath
when their life depended on it
and so they found the very end
and sunk into the bed

if you want to hear how i read it, complete with copyright infringement music, i put it here: http://zachtbd.xyz/poems/UnsolvedMystery.m4a

I’m not between jobs
I’m post-employment
Ask me to say that again
when I reach the end of my savings
when I’m digging under the bottom
to see how deep I can really go go
do you know what I mean?
Ask me to say that again, ‘I’m not between jobs’
and we’ll see if I really meant anything
when I was saying it
even as I was saying it

I don’t want you to worry about me
I’m as happy as I can be
I’m as happy as a clam
as happy as I’ve been since I was thirteen
right now, writing and worrying so much
burning down everything I touch
in some ways not much has changed

I thought I could be whatever I wanted to be
I should not have understood that literally
but I wanted so much to believe in that idea
I believed it myself for a nice long while

I’m speaking but you’re not listening
I don’t blame you
I tend to go on and on
I go on until I’ve had enough
and then — and there’s always an ‘and then’
when I know there should instead be silence
I keep on talking, it happened again
How many times can I forgive myself for this
and count on someone else to pay for my ticket

‘I’m set free, I’m set free, I’m set free
to find a new illusion’
I wish that were mine, but that’s Lou Reed

When I hear it I think of how many times
I have completely lost it only to find it again
Discovery, revision, and reinvention
Sounds like a decent life plan
but also suspiciously like a slogan
an ad campaign for Mercedes-Benz

“Discovery, revision, and reinvention
You’ll lose your mind in this car
You’ll never never want to step out of it
You won’t remember when it started
but you’ll know the pit is bottomless
two hundred horses pulling in the same direction
all to your benefit, the Mercedes Benz E350
Luxury, discovery, revision, and reinvention”
Do they still make ads like that

We should start on time
as in space, most of it is emptiness
we can live to the extent
that we can fill it up
and make a place in the vast expanse of nothing

there are countless endless long tails of the infinite
you can walk halfway to the end and then do it again
ad infinitum, that’s infinitesimal
that’s the quality of being indefinitely
reaching toward something that gets closer
in space but not in time
you’re always in motion but you never seem to arrive

I’m not between jobs
I’m post-employment
Ask me to say that again in a minute
when I reach the end of my checking account
and we’ll see how deep it really goes
when I’m digging beneath my bottom
God, I don’t want a digital wallet
Ask me to say that again, ‘I’m not between jobs’
and we’ll see how much I meant of what I was saying
of everything above, everything below
as much as one can, after reflection, say
as below, as above

I am not in love with thinking about money
it’s the kind of thing only a fucking prick
would spend their time with
I know it’s not right to speak of it
greasy wheeled spoonfuls with print of multiple licks
it’s the secret sauce of society
we all know that

I don’t want you to worry about me
I’m as happy as I can be
why, I’m as happy as a clam on a holiday!!
I’m as happy as I’ve been since I was thirteen
right now, writing and reading and trying not to worry so much
but also burning down everything I touch
in some ways not much has changed

I thought I could be whatever I wanted to be
I should not have understood that so literally
but I wanted so much to believe in that idea
I believed it myself for a nice long while

I’m speaking but you’re not listening
I don’t blame you
I tend to go on and on
for a real long while
I go on until I’ve had enough
and then — and there’s always an ‘and then’
but and then — and there’s always a but,
buts and thens, when I know there should instead be silence
and then when there finally is
I rev up the engine
and I keep on talking, it happened again
How many times can I forgive myself for this kind of thing
I know I’ll do it again

‘I’m set free
to find a new illusion’
I wish that were me, that was Lou Reed

When I hear it I think of how many times
I have completely lost myself in it only to find it again
Discovery, revision, and reinvention
Sounds like a decent life plan
but also suspiciously like a slogan
from an ad campaign for Mercedes-Benz

“Discovery, revision, and reinvention
You’ll lose your mind in this car
You’ll never ever want to step out of this car
in god we trust in our motor vehicle
You won’t remember when it started
but you’ll know the pit is bottomless
two hundred horses pulling in the same direction
all to your benefit, the Mercedes Benz
E350 Luxury
discovery, revision, and reinvention

Do they still make ads like that
They don’t make ads for the penniless
they do but that’s not the primary audience

I’m living for whoever is still believing
in the possibility of creating meaning
through living rather than waiting
for a truth which will never come to manifest
rather than waiting to die as a form of escapism
when I say GOP death cult I mean every bit of it
yes I’m on the left and I know you don’t care why
How long can I get by on
nothing but butter and bluster and gall?
Ask 45, it’s better not to think of it

If the clouds suddenly part
and the trumpets call and a
voice speaks down to us all
I will bow down in front of it
once and for all
there’s always a lower place you can fall
there is no bottom on a ball in space
there’s no end to the indefinite crawl

Met up in the Red Hall
I couldn't hear over the Three Degrees
So let's go for a walk
Have a smoke, have a talk

He gave me the lowdown
Sotto voce: "Hey, with friends like these..."
Then he just trailed off
Turned away, faked a cough

He said it would be be fine
No one would get hurt, it would be a breeze
I couldn't parse his wink
So I just asked for time to think

I should have known better
Bad things always tend to come in threes
The Boom-Truth and The Knife
Have never got me far in life

I told him I loved him
As an afterthought, in parentheses
Tacked it on to the end
Scanned it over, then clicked "Send"

I'm trying to deliberately leave out the important shit recently, like to the extent of deleting verses. All ominous threat-of-flood, no details of flood. Doughnut-shaped poems, all outside no middle.

Also taking on board what KM said about reading them aloud, so actually they maybe lose something without specific intonation and phrasing

oooh, i like that one quite a bit JHM, that's some good stuff!

whoa

I think you’ve got about 10 poems there bro

i didn't even post the others! there were like 30 poems there

limbo is a container for time
where one waits for godot
and knows how low one can go
how long one can hold onto
a breath before it hurts in the chest
with pinprick moments of silence
hanging in the upper halves of windows
like potted plants watching gardens
glow in the twilight, wanting to know

https://i.imgur.com/1J4OtLS.gif

my elbow flicks the light switch
because my fingers and forearms
are covered with paint, i said
what a mess of a mixup
to overlay the mediums
the message is in the tedium
replay what you heard
and see how it’s different

from what came before
send me a postcard
you’re halfway to the end
then halfway to the end

I’m noticing more people smoking recently saw

footage of Joni Mitchell singing coyote backstage on the rolling thunder

tour and is there a correlation between the populace quitting and obesity

yeah, I'm a poem
(not a syllable wasted)
I convey meaning

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