Archive | May, 2015

Ft Vending Machine (Collar 4)

26 May

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Ft Vending Machine

 

Collar 4:

 

There’s No Moving On

 

Yo Salieri,

maybe history did you wrong

or maybe you were an almost

Oscar winning prick

 

either way

 

History has always been mortal

just like the rest of us

 

we’re all corpses at some point

placed randomly or somewhat randomly

on the dartboard of a strip mall buffet table

on a sunny Sunday afternoon

 

They love: all you can eat macaroni

and pub tips

 

and we’ll love to play darts

when you love me

we’ll love to play darts

 

so don’t sweat it

ya sweaty tombstone

don’t sweat it

 

even though

everything’s always sweaty

 

everything’s always

the perfect hat that doesn’t fit me

 

everything’s missed field goals

followed by the possibility of touchdowns

 

followed by the fact that I was

goddamn certain I’d asked

Word’s Auto Correct to stop

fucking auto-correcting

me

 

but it refuses to obey orders

just like reality

 

just like that first time

I saw her

and how I unsuccessfully tried like hell

not to saw her

 

because I knew she could be

the end

of me

 

and for a long time she was

 

and always will be

 

but fuck,

you either lay down

or you spend the entire weekend

watching The Six Million Dollar Man Season 4

in a not-quite laying down/haven’t-given-up-yet-

only-semi-laid-down-like position

 

and as you know

I sometimes hate to lay down

and Season 4 of The Six Million Dollar Man

if beautiful!

 

so

you know,

no choice!

 

when every second

is choosing

 

I choose the latter

 

if by latter I mean beauty

 

I choose beauty

over Vaseline

 

wounded humanity

over total robotics

 

Instead of the steak

I choose the cow

 

So let us throw their goddamn

laser rifles

to the ground

 

Darling!

 

grab yr great dress

and follow me

down the hallway

past the locked doors

behind which

 

the politically savvy

sleep the dead sleep

of cheap tippers

 

and I will build you a fort

out of available vending machines

behind which

 

barricaded between

entombed Snickers bars

 

we can

make out

 

 

 

(part 4 of a four collared poem)

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my winter coat

23 May

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my winter coat

 

I take you with me these days

everywhere

regardless of weather

or movie screens

or

the various showtimes

of distance

 

because

the world is a cold place without comfort

complete with meticulous penguins

and

icebergs that pick on their own feet

with broad daylight

 

that’s why I keep your pockets

in my pockets

and smile as they become

intertangled

between our pockets

and I don’t feel

so alone

 

 

 

(an old poem found in a forgotten red folder found in a desk the other day that’d been forgotten too)

 

in the forest that was a forest but is now a paved out lot in which they film car commercials

22 May

Row of cars

 

in the forest that was a forest but is now a paved out lot in which they film car commercials

 

in the forest that was a forest but is now

a paved out lot in which they film car commercials

 

the squirrels of what we once were together

stand around idling

because they can’t get a car loan

because all their credit’s been shot

 

and taxidermy’d

and then sloppily mounted

on the wall

 

in some big fuck’s office

who’s farts smell like sunscreen

when he’s lying

 

and he’s always lying

with his mouth, lying

while his ass drones on

about the hazardous effects

of the sun

 

and then eventually

he walks out

into actual sunlight

 

to film another goddamn car commercial

 

in a paved out lot

that used to be a forest

 

where cement falls in love

with piles of that grey shit

that gets scratched off unlucky

lottery tickets

 

and all the squirrels

miss

their bus

Love’s Fondness For Yellow

18 May

800px-Auto_Racing_Yellow_svg

Love’s Fondness For Yellow

 

I grew up in a yellow house

in the middle of a cornfield

refusing to listen to Big Bird

and being unable to use the word

‘jaundice’ convincingly

in a sentence

so it makes sense

you sexy sentence

that your hair

haunted by blondness

should remind me of

the barns

in which I once roamed………….

you are the yellow

and love has a fondness

for yellow

and in this case scenario

I am The Love!

some of the best things share your color

Captain Kirk’s uniform

The Comedian’s smiley faced

blood splattered button

The Fracking Sun!

yellow contains taught powers

yellow designs its own oxygen

yellow survives its dead stars

Mayakovsky’s shirt was fucking yellow!

like the curtains in this little

basement apartment

yellow is the color of fire

burning in a little possessed girl’s eyes

in a poster that hangs

above the toilet

[bit about urine being also yellow deleted

by early 1900’s Russian censors]

my love for you is yellow!

and love is yellow!

and I love you

like yellow!

with all yr tattoos

You’re my favorite album

and fondest memories

from those dark days

after the color had left me

if you ever left Chris Martin

Chris Martin would write a

song about your leaving

and I will sing that song to you

on your birthday

because it’s about goddamn time

for Chris Martin

to get over this shit

and move on

(pt 3 of an unpublished 4 part poem called Ft Vending Machine)