It's ok to write poems and put them here

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

sorry to post the same exact lines again, but i just came upon an interesting feature in sublime text, which i usually only use for programming stuff, back when i tried to do that. anyway, i wanted to see what the poem above, the one that starts with "we should start on time", would look like as a kind of long paragraph, kind of like how i usually post actually, oops. but anyway - that did not work, but instead i came upon sublime text's ability to randomize the lines of a selection, which includes line breaks, so that when it puts it back together it creates new stanzas and pairings. some of these new randomized sections are much better than what i was very much trying to do, ha! the matrix is real. jk

anyway, here's the sublime text-edit:

------

it’s better for my mental health, for all of us
that we can fill it up
How long can I get by on
Sounds like a decent life plan
I thought I could be whatever I wanted to be
and we’ll see how deep it really goes

‘I’m set free
flub infinity

you can walk halfway to the end and then do it again
right now, writing and reading and trying not to worry so much
when I’m digging beneath the bottom
through living rather than waiting
it’s the kind of thing only a fucking prick
Ask me to say that again, ‘I’m not between jobs’
voice speaks down to us all
yes I’m on the left and I know you don’t care why
on nothing but butter and bluster and gall?
I’m not between jobs

when I say GOP death cult I mean every bit of it
when I reach the end of my checking account
it’s the secret sauce of society
“Discovery, revision, and reinvention
but I wanted so much to believe in that idea
to find a new illusion’
but you’ll know the pit is bottomless
we can live to the extent
as w ith space, most of it is emptiness
I’m speaking but you’re not listening
that’s the quality of being indefinitely
I’m as happy as I’ve been since I was thirteen
Ask me to say that again in a minute
and I keep on talking, it happened again
I don’t want you to worry about me
I wish that were me, that was Lou Reed
I don’t know who I am
and the trumpets call and a
as below, as above
but and then — and there’s always a but,
in some ways not much has changed
for a truth which will never come to manifest
I don’t blame you
from an ad campaign for Mercedes-Benz

In God we trust in our motor vehicle
I have completely lost myself in it only to find it again
would spend their time with
discovery, revision, and reinvention
there’s always a lower place you can fa ll
and then when there finally is
I’m as happy as I can be
I know I’ll do it again

you’re always in motion but you never seem to arrive
and then — and there’s always an ‘and then’ with me

I am not in love with thinking about money
all to your benefit, the Mercedes Benz
and make a place in the vast expanse of nothing
for a real long while
I tend to go on and on
well, they do but that’s not the primary audience
You’ll never ever wanna step out of this car
I rev up my engine

as much as one can, after reflection, say
of everything above, everything below
When I hear it I think of how many times
we all know that
why, I’m as happy as a clam on a holiday!!
once and for all

(the same conclusions)
and we’ll see how much I meant of what I was saying
Do they still make ads like that

God, I don’t want a digital wallet

but also suspiciously like a slogan
in the possibility of creating meaning

Ask 45, it’s better not to think of it
They don’t make ads for the penniless

I go on until I’ve had enough
I’m not sure about that
there are countless endless long tails of the infinite
in space but not in time
but also burning down everything I touch
I will bow down in front of it
How many times can I forgive myself for this kind of reasoning
I’m post-employment
You’ll lose your mind in this car
I should not have understood that so literally
We should start on time
I’m living for whoever is still believing
there’s no end to the indefinite crawl
If the clouds suddenly part
I believed it myself for a nice long while
rather than waiting to die as a form of escapism
ad infinitum, that’s infinitesimal
You won’t remember how to start or end it
reaching toward something that gets closer

greasy wheeled spoonfuls with the mayor’s fingerprints
I know it’s not right to speak of it
buts and thens, when I know there should instead be some silence
E350 Luxury
two hundred horses pulling you in the same direction
Discovery, revision, and reinvention

i realize now what i need to do

My third(?) time on the stage
Let's be honest, prolly my last
a single clap rang out
everyone looked at their feet

I was taken aside beforehand
Told to behave, it kind of fucked me off
So I deliberately touched EVERYTHING
The uncles smirked, my mother didn't

Yeah, the drumkit's in my mother's attic
So there will be no rimshots tonight
My brother gave me a trombone
So I can wompwomp to my hearts delight

I'll just nod cus it's less painful than smiling
But I'll tell you one thing for free:
Next person says I "wash up nice"
Is getting stabbed in the face

On rereading I'd maybe switch the word "wash" to "scrub", it's less based in truth but sounds better

I can still see the smug expression
on your face
I'll wipe it off whatever it takes
The end of the world suits me fine
You'll get your comeuppance
and I'll get mine

Livestock, cheer up
Imagine the view from where I'm sat
Timothy's layering down one level
Curtis still acting smug as fuck

Nardise, no lies
Oh hey Young Laura, how ye keeeping?
Let's take a walk past that one boy's house
Just whistle and look away

don't swear, just, please
You cannae make up times like these
The kids did a runner from the taxi driver
And the park bench is still on fire

The Seven Sisters are multiplying
Ceylon's called Sri Lanka now
James Taylor's got some pretty broad shoulders
But they still chap on my door

Btw in that previous thing change "my mother didn't" to "my mother sighed"

Calmate ragazzo, don't get upset
That's just how we do it in Taranto
A slap to the head for your new haircut
A kiss from the priest for your onomastico

Come closer child, squat by my feet
My brother brung me this old banjo
Can't restring it, I'm enslaved by another man
If you're not feeling it please just go

He wears that Jazzmaster like a fashion accessory
I think he's hit it maybe once or twice
He might seem cool, but I've gazed into his eyes
I think he's got a two or vice

Middle-aged dads in button-dowm shirts
A bassist in a trucker hat
Not too impressed, but I'll fake for your benefit
"They're having fun, I'll give them that..."

Hush your tone and we might get a lock-in
If you'll just pay for one more round
Shout "THAT'S MY GRANDMA!" when that kid starts fiddling
Laura chuckles, no one else makes a sound

Franklin said "calm yer hands", he's probably right
I'm twitching all over the shop
Take the deep breaths like my mother telt me
But this arsehole's beeen burnt too many times before
Wise up kid, hold the yelp back
Just point two fingers and grin
Maybe pretend you're an adult
Flip the fag pack then exit

Benjamin says this autoharp has a "storied history"
Maybe Yorkston's but I forget if that's true
My father will visit if we let on where our house is
I mumbled "yes" then went back to my bed
I'm told to wave if he drives past the front door
I doubt it'll happen but come on, safety first
The rest of the crew are hiding out in the backyard
I'm doing pushups on the front lawn For. My. Sins.

I spent some time with a girl once
Didn't really know her, a friend of a friend
Repeatedly asked me to repeat what I yammered
She could never parse the last part

Turns out it was a misunderstanding
(in multiple senses of the word)
All my sentences ended in -ken
...what's that aboutken?

She took it as a final syllable
Rather than the nervous tic it was
", ken?" as punctuation at the end of the sentence
Because I'm scared by the shape of the room

I never do that sat at home with my lover
Or when I'm at my mother/uncle's house
But if you meet me in a pub, or some sketchy hangout
Please appropriately adjust your comprehension

So these days I'm trying to do better
Think all my words out before I speak
Pregnant pauses, do they make me seem deeper?
Or do they make me seem slow?

Used to go to Kenfest (this predates Succession)
That's fine, it's not the end of the word/world
Just don't ask me for my Destroyer ranking
Because that will always end with Ken

(there was a part about bonfires in there but I took it out which I'm rueful cus I like bonfires)

Also the death of Nicky Tesco somehow made me write like 8 paragraphs about my brother and his favourite song and our our teenage band and his sociopath partner who doesn't let him talk to me and how I have no way to contact him now and I've tried for hours now to turn it into verse but it ain't realistically happening and I shall spare youse the efforts but can I just say I'm drunk as fuck and I miss my little brother and pogoing in our shared bedroom til the record skipped and if you see him tell him I've still got that Sound Of The Suburbs 7", then make that "call me" hand gesture then go back to your crowd

I admit, I was happy
to feel the sharp pain
in my back come back
to feel freshly incapacitated
and unable to attend the class

The only required supply was Gesso
but I didn’t want to go
so I stayed home

I wrote an email to the instructor
explaining how I had been moving
music equipment from one floor to another
pushing heavy carts to and from the freight elevator
in an old building in the Lemp District

Then I spent that night painting
over a previous painting
rehabilitating it
bringing it back from the brink
documenting Lazarus with a photo
before putting him back in his cave

I woke up covered in sweat
She wrote back in all caps
Do Not Draw on the Canvas With Pencil
this class costs $200 and I missed $40 of it
I am level 34 in Elden Ring

I don’t want to find a new home
I don’t want to listen to the Gymnopédies again
I don’t want the door to close
I don’t want to sit on the stairs, listening

My dog wet my bed
I love her all the more for it

I no longer want to be outstanding
I only want to be happy
and when I fall out of it
as one must
to be able to come back
like a home, a happy home
that stays
which is on an old map

I want to nail the Chopin on my deathbed
in front of a captive audience
gathered to hear some final jokes
but I play a Nocturne instead
perfectly, the trill hits the optimum
my uncle says “I didn’t know he could play”
and I look back and say “and you didn’t know him”
and die, just like that
and my uncle gives everything to charity
every last cent

revised

I don’t want to find a new home
I don’t want to listen to the Gymnopédies again
I don’t want the door to close
I don’t want to sit on the stairs, listening

My dog wet my bed
I love her all the more for it

I don’t want to be outstanding
I just want to be happy
and when I exit
as one must
to be able to come back to the happiness
like a home, an old home
which stays in one place
in a telephone book
on an old map

I want to nail the Chopin on my deathbed
in front of a captive audience
gathered to hear some final jokes
but I play a Nocturne instead
I want to nail the trills, especially
my uncle says “I didn’t know he could play”
and I look back and say “and you didn’t know him”
and die, just like that
and my uncle gives everything to charity
every last cent
and then maybe he dies too

still ironing the kinks out of this one

-
How long can this last,
our pointless nightlong slog through
this soupy morass?

The soles of our shoes
are thickly coated with mud
and for what, a ruse?

Picking at this crud
with sticks that keep snapping off.
This path is a dud.

Now I have a cough
on top of holes in my gloves
I drink from the trough

Glasses all fogged up.
What if we went home, sweet home?
But who can we trust?

My mouth starts to foam
at the thought of how to leave.
Can I be alone?

I think I believe
there is comfort in structure.
I need some routine.

But I don’t know much.
Merely waking up some days
can take some gumption.

If a voice would say
Right Now, Immediately
Full Retreat, Post Haste

Could I hide my glee?
Should I be stifling my joy
while full on sprinting?

When I was a boy
I would laugh until it hurt.
Patched up corduroy.

An iron-on shirt
with characters from Star Wars.
Nails covered in dirt.

Now my throat is hoarse
From yapping about what ought
to be, in due course

Our expected lot,
Rather than boggy water
and depressing thoughts.

New cannon fodder
hanging on to ropes dangling
from helicopters.

Put a fork in me
How long would I sing a song
which has no ending?

I guessed for too long
at questions with no answers
but I was not wrong.

missiles fall on distant kiev
this counts as merely minor peeve
we knows what sides our breads is buttered
let no apologies be uttered
when all is said and all is done
a terrys lots a happy one
toe rag to riches, doughty yeoman
to cuntish twentieth century roman

― Ár an broc a mhic (darraghmac), Thursday, 3 March 2022 16:47 (five hours ago) bookmarkflaglink

what's sad is that this all started in an effort to be more concise. i get bored at some of my long poems while reading them, sometimes, so i'm sure it's much worse for everyone else. so someone suggested haiku but of course i needed more than 3 lines. still, 51 lines is shorter by my standards, and the average length of each line is only 5.667 syllables so it's faster than normal

here is the revised version, which is now called About Quitting

How long can this last,
our pointless nightlong slog through
this soupy morass?

The soles of our shoes
are thickly coated with mud
and for what, a ruse?

Picking at this crud
with sticks that keep snapping off.
This path is a dud.

Now I have a cough
on top of holes in the gloves
I found in the trough

Glasses all fogged up.
What if we went home, sweet home?
But who can we trust?

My mouth starts to foam
at the thought of how to leave.
Can I be alone?

I think I believe
there is comfort in structure.
I need some routine.

But I don’t know much.
Merely waking up some days
can take some gumption.

If a voice would say
Right Now, Immediately
Full Retreat, Post Haste

Could I hide my glee?
Should I be stifling my joy
while full on sprinting?

When I was a boy
I would laugh until it hurt.
Patched up corduroy.

An iron-on shirt
with characters from Star Wars.
Nails covered in dirt.

Now my throat is hoarse
From yapping about what ought
to be, in due course

Our expected lot,
Rather than the swamp water
and negative thoughts.

New cannon fodder
hanging on to ropes dangling
from helicopters.

Put a fork in me
How long would I sing a song
which has no ending?

I guessed for too long
at questions with no answers
but was I all wrong?

-
i think it sounds nice read aloud, because of the interweaving rhyme scheme and the concise, consistent number of syllables from the haiku setup. i recognize that without constraints, i just go on and on and on, here and in what i work on, whether i'm painting and accumulating or recording a million tracks or talking endlessly. it's good for me, at least occasionally, to get a STOP signal, or at least a small box to put things in

here is a spoken version

I am in favour
Just now, let's say my "auntie"
lives in my Maw's house

Tends to leave me notes
I come in from pub some nights
Find stuff on table

"your cat has puked up"
Mostly shit like that or such
I'm not too impressed

She wrote in haiku, but I bosed up to her
Told her to work on her meter
she scoffed at me, said just wait on ma mer
but I knew I could beat her

She lorded over me like every night
I said "try working in sonnets"
"aye, nae chance!", but it sparked a light
And I took something from it

Auntie Dorothy, aiutandeme
ma cosé pensa Voi?
Andare a bagno, scrivo per te
Che cosa trovate poi?

Underrate me? Fuck you Dot
Sonnets in Italian? Fuck Yeah, the lot

(pretty rough Italian, but genuinely wrote while she was in toilet and maybe pretend it's Tarantino which it's not but I'm banking on no one knowing one way or the other)

Nothing but apologies for previous. Still drunk but eh

Every time the song plays
I grip my knuckles white
Not a big deal, I recall the breathing exercises
so we exit the situation okay

But then maybe My Mother entrances
(when my knuckles still white)
"who's this boy?", I turn red-eyed
make some semblence of a shrug

"oh the guy jumped off the bridge?"
Just focus on the screen
"oh yeah, I heard some blather nonsense..."
CONCENTRATE ON THE SCREEN!

Recall them exercises? Now's a good time to practise
(we're not stabbing no eyes today)
That big news you wanted to share? Cough
Maybe save it til next week

My mother smirks, I make coffee
Liverpool don't play til dmorrae..

god, My Mother

How long does it take for someone to crack?
How soon before they're in the nutty shack?
How long for someone to lose their marbles?
For their cards to fall on the table?

How much pressure can you take?
How many straws before you break?
How much stress can you handle?
Before you're blown out like a candle?

It’s that time of year
for the first time
since it happened

I’ll remember what I can on his birthday, later this month
He would have been sixty-seven
Four days later I’ll remember his death
Undefeated
Always on the way
The arrival seen coming but sudden all the same
The before and the after
What gets shaken out of all of us

When death comes knocking you don’t hear it
No need to worry, someone will answer the door
or else it well let itself in

By the time you smell death it’s already down the throat
The first scent is a signpost at the end which reads

All Roads Meet Here
Final Merge
Turn Off Car
Remove Keys From Ignition
Wait

I would like to be asked
to go outside
to flat out lie
down on the sidewalk
to see and be seen
by the others
up and down the street
who were asked to do the same as me
to step out of our housing units
silently
the neighborhood strangers
who lost everything
the one in thirty-three who have a close relative who died
a lot of us did not say goodbye
I would lay my forehead on the cement
until I am serene
and wait for others to join me

There is no national day of remembrance
because it’s still happening
because a lot of people are invested in it being overblown
because we had to get used to it

One can imagine opening the door to the inevitable
with a line long memorized
calmly methodical
looking it straight in the eye and saying
Why you’re right on time

Or, slamming and bolting the door
that should be enough, right
though maybe stacking a couch against it can only help
Any time at all which can be bought is worth it
only a second more is to die for

Or, ripping off the bandages
marching straight through hell without a guide
shaking the foundation
unholy primal screaming
we’re all innocent
or none of us are
it doesn’t make a difference

The weapons of mass nonsense are proliferating
Strangers explain comorbidities to me
explain vaccines are destroying my fertility
explain alternative treatments
explain the government did not want me to see the data
explain comorbidities reacting with the vaccines
and the only possible treatments were part of an elitist scheme
involving the world bank and UN and CDC and Bill Gates
and the Great Reset and Planet X
the entire Biopharmaceutical industry
I can’t sleep, I can’t sleep
it’s all been written, don’t you see, we see it
that they actually want this to keep this so-called pandemic going

My blood runs cold
It would be better to go numb instead
Much easier to nod and play along to their song
Yes, ivermectin, very interesting
this and that study, incredible

(Keeping the rebuttals unstated
maybe even not thought of at all
ideally)

I spent some time with The Atlantic article
“Why America Became Numb to COVID Deaths”
and it made me think about why I became numb to Americans

There are endless forms of escapism
I do it too
We all have to do it

Still, If you can’t say anything nice
well, you’re fucked, I guess
Right? In this instance
You’re supposed to grin and bear it
pretend like they make sense

You’re supposed to say it is what it is but
I refuse to accept that it is what it is
because everything changes and that’s as it should be
things that are about to be, approaching
that’s what is happening, along with what already is

The bathroom within a bathroom is easy to find
You walk into the outer bathroom, then say
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
Then you’ll know the way

Man rules the day with his calls and computer,
Deliberate, restless, engorged with the fluid of importance,
He stands astride his home office as a Colossus.

His only match, the night’s master,
The swift and furry specter that undoes his hard work
Swiping at air pods, glasses, the spoils of civilization itself.

When the sun rises, man must rebuild
The broken city leveled by his rival.
O the Sisyphean joys of owning a cat!

I was gunna write something HATEFUL
Cus I woke up thinking of that boy again
But everytime I wash my body
I forget everything

Or just cook something, that works too
Hoi, maybe pop some corn!
Aye hush, I'm banned from using hot oil
But frankly the grownups can fuck each other

My shoulders hurt from hunching
My knuckles hurt from clenching
My feet have lost all feeling from the stupid way I'm crouching
My back hurts from I donno idolatry I guess

Last week I thunk you up a masterpiece
I had it down to punctuation in my head förfan
Then I took a shower
And it all whirled down the drain

"I'd rather write a symphony"
You used to play that song constalike
I hated it then, cus offentill I need to sleep
But I hate it still, from memory

Just because

that's my favorite of yours that i've read, JHM

and i love treesh entering the fold!

You gave me dispensation to invent words! I membered midways.

Sometimes this crowd sounds like a choir of angels
Sometimes everything tumbles on the the floor and bursts open
Sometimes I just need to blow my nose
My chest hurts

I also love treeship, jennalike

Let's play DEVOLUTION Baby!
I found a comfy rut right here
Oh I'm sorry, the birds are dying?
B-b-but there's a defibrillator

2.6 miles from pub, 0.1 from my sofa
(but yeah, that's all uphill)
Think about it, it's perfectly placed
Imma outlive erry one of youse fools

Sometimes this crowd sounds like a choir of angels
Sometimes everything tumbles on the the floor and bursts open
Sometimes I just need to cough up some blood
Sometimes I just need a duvet to hug

My knees hurt from kneeling
My teeth hurt from sugar, and clenching
Because of YOU
(yeah, THEM, but also YOU)

Cut my hair for you
Going broke buying solid color shirts
A mason jar for pencil shavings

my last one was way the fuck too long, here is a one minute version that's slightly edited

All Roads Meet Here
Final Merge
Turn Off Car
Remove Keys From Ignition
Wait

I would like to be asked
to go outside
to flat out lie
down on the sidewalk
to see and be seen
by the others
up and down the street
the neighborhood strangers
who were asked to do the same as me
to step out of our housing units
silently
the neighborhood strangers
the one in thirty-three who lost everything
many of us did not get to say goodbye
but I did, I had my ten minutes, alone
I would lay my forehead on the cement
until I am serene
and wait for others to join me
that is how I want the remember
just me and the others
all of us together

Jennalike Baby, calm yer fucken heels
You've maybe smoked yersel to death
"Young George, Son Of George", wind yer neck in
KovaKovaKovacic, take a deep breath

I'll smirk, fingerguns, I know the teenagers rate me
While the fireworks whizz past my head
Throw your fingers up, quote that line from what film?
I will elegise you when you're dead

Siccemmup Curtboy, I know yer fucken holding
We been this road too many times before
You got your spot, the rest of the room is mine
The other business we'll just whistignore

Boom did ye feel that? the whole room rumbled
I'll ride this rug like A Lad In Hell
If I give you this French chalk just promise me
You'll draw a line around where I fell

poems are hard to justify
but easier to understand than the stock market

if i had the discipline to write a petrarchan sonnet
i would

There Is Not Here

Here is another letter
Letter to the editor

Editor of the opinion pages
pages her boss to discuss the document
document the date it was received
Received too late to answer

Answer he couldn’t accept
Accept nothing but regrets
Regrets we all share, except
Except perhaps the one there in the back

Back in the time of beepers
beepers could arrange a talk with powerful men
Men whose family owned the town newspaper
Newspaper revenue would be declining
Declining steadily ever since, for years
Years and years when the advertisers left
left for the internet
internet perpetually under construction

Construction without interruption
interruption via a botched intervention
intervention rejected and buried
buried twelve feet deep
deep in the woods off the mind’s highway

Highway lines twisting and vanishing
Vanishing off of the pavement
Pavement lines becoming disorienting
disorienting and dissipating
Dissipating until the heart is still
Still, we keep going until
Until we know that we’re there
There is not here

Don't bosie up to me, ye fucken child
There's one key difference tween the two of us
You've drunk "14 beers!", hmmm is that number just random?
I don't drink, I'm just waiting on the bus

Yeah I know fine well we're both "medded up"
Is your cat also waiting outside?
I lied to the doctor, I lied to you just now
My cat isn't outside, my cat died

You want to hang with the grownups?
Well, I've got some advice for you
Is that Diazepam? Just hoard it
At least for a day or two

Yeah cos we can't afford to drink every day
And the scrip isn't all that strong
Drink all weekend, then double meds from monday
If the voddy even lasts that long

Oh, your best mate's got Ritalin?
Well that's of no interest to me
Get up to the high school, sell it to children
Come back here, fan the bills out, then we'll see...

Not happy, my constant deletions to deliberately remove context harmed this one, I wanted to make clear the creeping nazification of the youth (like when they've drunk exactly 14 beers, or bet 88 on the duck race on gala day), and also the lying to the doctor is that you aren't currently drinking, in order to acquire benzos. I don't feel either of those things come across in this version, I'll rewrite it (spoiler: I won't). Also I just realised my stream of conciousness switched from me as an elder being harassed by youth to me as a youth being intimidated by elders and that doesn't work at all. SHUT IT DOWN

Find the cord in the toilet
Find the correct glass when you stumble back to the room
Follow my finger slowly with your eyes
Follow the street back to your mammy's house
It's a pretty baller move if you ask me
Pass out on the kerb, roll down the street
You've played crazy golf, it works exactly the same, work the angles
You'll wake up in the gutter pretty close to where you want to be

Crazy Golf? Don't get me started on that
8 under par, let's call it a Phoenix
Found 10 kroner on the walk over the dunes
Already dropped it by the ice cream shack
At 8 years old that felt like a mass execution
The hateful look from your father made you sink into the sand
The look from the other kids somehow felt even worse
I'm sorry, no ice cream today

So let's never play golf again
Also you're dreaming if you think I'm getting back in those little cars
First time it died on me, everyone laughed
Second time my brother... well let's not talk of that
But I always loved being inside the big man
I had the skill for it, slipped between levels
No one ever found me until I turned up for the barbecue
Walked away from that, found a quiet place, and just prayed

Yeah seriously, I used to pray
Til my knuckles and knees felt the same numbness as each other
My whole body achieved a sense of unity
Then I'd walk back to the fire

Lookee Lady, you know I love you
But consider for a mintytoo
If this was 500 years ago
You'd be BURNT AS A WITCH!

Yeah calm down, these are your best qualities
You're outspoken, as is your bahgiven right
I'm just saying, in ye olden times
You'd be BURNT AS A WITCH!

Fucksake, stop hitting my head
My heart will bust if you keep up with that gaze
Just imagine 1542 if I didn't speak up for you
Yeah you died in a fire

Track and Field, Baby! Make me FEEL!
Living is easy when your window points East
"The Secret Life Of Plants" on repeat til the sun melts the vinyl
We can play any boardgame with an exclamation in the title

Today's drug is Promethazine, No Thank You Lady
That shit will just slow me down
I'll stick with lager, and a punch to the chest
From (genuinely) my oldest friend

Portraits of LOSERS, portraits of my enemies
A dart through that postcard of Churchill
A blade for the neighbours, the scribes and the Pharisees
A jog round the Den, then go home and pass out

You’re not here
You’re not in your urn
You’re not up there
or down there, either

You know what I mean by that

You’re gone