Presented Without Comment

I rode up to your window.

Then outside two stories down from you
I was looking on the ground for to

Hunt up small sticks and rocks,
Like signal flares to launch.

But you were already watching.
A distress call detected before it ever was sent.

Still,

I bounced a pebble off the window screen
And with a smile asked if you would meet

Me down by the water.
Where I was shuffling my feet,

When you met me on the rail bridge.
Water rushing beneath.

Took a pause for a long while.
The day could've been longer, were it earlier in the year.

Amndestyll

I saw this and thought, ''NEAT!" So, I played around with the idea longer than I care to admit, and this is the most compelling thing I could come up with...

amndestyll

Any thoughts? It seems a shame to not explain it at all... I'll tell if asked, but it's really more fun to decipher the/ascribe your own meaning.

An Ode to Something Less Mainstream

Appearently, it's National Poetry Month -- as good an excuse as any to usher myself back into the writing habit. So, without any excuses or further adieu..... 

Amidst the slurs and dribble, 

mentholated smoke, 

scribbles, 

songs, and sour mashes,

survived by our whimsy, 

we, 

the reckless, 

disconcerted, 

connoisseurs of the cool and contemptible, 

claim our birth right – to live and die blue ribbon lives.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now it's your turn! As a prompt, here are five items one might find at an auction -- include them in a poem: Flintlock Pistol, Houdini's teeth, pinball machine, (deed to) an industrial complex, silver rings.

Meh. That's all I've got for today. Even if you opt not to use this prompt I could use a five item suggestion in turn (it's not as interesting picking the items myself.)

For other submissions and suggestions please visit The Germ of the Idea. Happy April, Poets!

What Advice Can You Give Me?

I've often looked to horoscopes

for some semblance of direction

but being duped, by vague vicissitudes

I've seen the arrow's flexion

Of a sheep's bladder drawstring pouch

I consult the cast contents.

Divining truth from chicken bones,

to finally find life's sense.

“You'll be feeling misanthropromorphic.”

The bones seemed to me to read.

And as you could bet, I double checked

So as not to misconceive.

That night I dreamt of deserts.

Cool Creosote bush scented air

punctuated by the darkness

through which I caught Marlboro man's stare.

We meet eyes and with a drag

his face became aglow

'twas featureless save for a hole,

through which Marlboro man smoked.

With a flick of his wrist he threw 'ore me a lasso.

His horse and he let out a huff.

They pulled the rope taut 'round both my feet

and took off, dragging me through the dust.

Like a true buckaroo,

a real renegade cowboy,

the wrangler rode full trot,

backwards, standing, clear to Illinois

Pelting me with loosies,

methodically, on the forehead

His accuracy was flawless,

until I woke, sweat soaked, in bed.

A stray cat, come in through the window, lay upon my chest

''Wherever you go, there you are,'' it said.

The bones foretold this, but gave no insight on coping

with hate, fueled by fearful cravings for a cigarette.

Things I've Seen While Driving

This is unfinished and quite depressing, but I refuse to fictionalize this piece and there is much yet to be seen on my drives. I'll keep an eye out for eros, agape, etc. 

Red Carnations:

Bouquet.

Cast, haphazard,

to the wayside.

Unrequited love.

Mid intersection,

a toad,

unwavering,

bereaving splattered partner.

So it seems.

But toads will eat

nearly anything.

False love.

Road kill:

Light brown hare

pale as the moonlight

lighting the road.

Black hare

waits for my pass

then nudges the corpse again.

Star-crossed love.

15 Minutes

A 'lil something new. More to follow soon.

Your time has come,

but

maybe

it's always been.

Warming up.

Spotlight,

                     on.

Can you feel it?

Break pace,

                        Bolt.

Don't finish,       flourish.

Gusto,

             check.

So you're all set to go.

Your time has come,

but

maybe

it's only been.

Taking Even

Fun Fact: The working title for this was ''Wrapping Presents" (Rapping Presence, get it!?). Yes, I think I'm hilarious. Anyway, please enjoy.

I'm immortal is a motto that I'll carry till death.

If you find that fact a fallacy put it to the test

'cause I

Must confess I'll put to rest duress with fisticuffs and If I must,

you best guess I could be dangerous.

Now I could try to forget

And I could try to forgive.

I could let bygones be bygones,

I could live and let live but,

Shit!

This cyclone's spinning and it just won't quit.

There's no karmatic requital.

It's not a question of faith.

No passion play recital,

It's just me and my own stakes.

Circumambulating

Lamenting remunerations

Got me frustrated, contemplating some heinous

Resolve to exolves long gone but still raw in the memory.

Remember,

Enemies tempted this fate. Now ensate

is the steel so they reel but they'll never escape.

Drink Of Me Deeply

Here is something I wrote for my girlfriend because I'm a goober like that. It's our one year anniversary today and this is my way of saying to her, ''Thanks for graciously putting up with me for a whole year!''


Drink Of Me Deeply.

On first approach does steam rise to and warm your nostrils?

Can you hear the crackle of effervescence, feel its flecks upon your lips?

Do you feel a faint chill, hear the rattle of ice?

Does the sting of ethanol fumes tickle your senses?

How am I perceived?

Drink of me deeply.

Am I cloying, austere, bitter,

Piquant, salty, cool?

Drink of me deeply.

Is a grit left on your tongue?

A fine silt.

A clinging syrup.

A silky coat.

I know,

given the day,

I can be any and all of these.

Still!

You drink of me deeply.

Do you find me best served torrid, temperate, frosted?

Perhaps even,

frozen,

on a stick.

Drink of me deeply.

But first!

Will you take me with lemon and honey,

Cream and sugar,

A dash of bitters,

A twist of lime,

or

A grain of salt.

Me?

I'll take you as you come.

You'll have the same, you say.

Then I suppose, all that's left is to toast.

Incite

More? Wednesday for me now equals eight hours on campus with roughly four hours of class. This started as the opening of ''Endure'' but I figure the two stood better on their own.

Dedicated to Jackie Leseur.

When evening light falls

the loving luminescence

of a glowing heart still guides.

May peace find you as you go,

wheresoever you go.

And as you piece the subtle text

of your life

I ask;

let me be a thread -- to prove tensile and worthy.

Endure

When the leaves of our lives

are riddled by time,

time will tell

in hues of red and yellow,

black and white,

that roots so deep

are nourished by past falls.

Better Days

This is just a lil' something I had lying around that I decided to read at the Random Tea Room, Broadset reading. Just putting it out there...

Shingles shaken from roofs are whipped into the street.

an aching store front groans in violent winds.

Beyond the window pane, penny candy.

I used to buy a dollars worth at a time,

at a time when a dollar stretched a lot further.

No neon light buzzed to indicate, OPEN.

On a day like this,

a heavy branch hurled through the window

wouldn't raise much suspicion.

Ingenuous Disingenuousness

I've been lax. For those who read this stuff, I thank you. Even in my most unproductive of stupors, I would just like to say, I still make it a point to stay abreast with the works of others. My hats off to them. You are inspiring, inspired people.

I've been writing some short versed poetry lately. Expect a few of the like before I get back to short stories. Anyway, I hope this makes sense to you.

The day took a turn for the worse;

you remember.

Beyond your expectant glances

and their glaze,

I saw clouds thickening.

Obnubilated intentions and ideas,

served only to proliferate our ingenuous disingenuousness.

Then the rain came.

A storm of subterfuge,

befell an otherwise convincing ruse.

When the cataracts lessened,

a tepid glow returned.

The resulting humidity left an indelible musk.

Fallen limbs were cleared and candles lit,

just in time for the guests to arrive.

The Hedonist's Canto

This was an attempt at a story that ''feels'' nice to read without being too, too Dr. Suess-esque.

A greater, more discerning, effort at this sort of thing will be made in the future. For now, it's very late and any semblance of shrewdness has long worn thin.

Mussels in the sand – with out tear glands, their laughable faces are fodder for my pitiless tabasco slurping. Burping, I pry open another, rend it asunder, fork out it's innards and eat it for supper.

Dinner was divine, complete with kelp steamed corn -- like an old fashioned clam bake, if clam stood for mussel.

''Shuck me another and pour me a shot!''

My fill has been had but as a glutton I'm not satisfied until it hurts.

With distended stomach, I stroll through the surf, washing my feet where the ocean meets earth.

''Life is surely the most potent poison,'' I slurred, lifting my flask and taking a quaff.

The ocean agreed, but my brain simply scoffed.

Venus on Ecstasy

Your heart was rent.

The tourniquet helped your cloven heart -- for a time;

but, when I found you prostrate and cold:

I knew I was no Aesculapius.

I shooed the snakes from your body, and drove you to a specialist.

The emergency reconstruction was a success.

The new valves synced your three atria and ventricles into rhythm beautifully.

I couldn't help but Rumba.

Thinking you well, I left for good.

Years later, the valves failed.

A machinist replaced the old heart with one of tungsten.

It matched your alabaster smile well.

A Love Transpired

Another old piece, originally writ as a Valentine's Day gift for an ex, but to hell with her -- I'm taking it back. Posts of new works coming soon.

Hearts close, thine to mine.

Recumbant, your fine lines, curves, cut like knives.

Two lives: hearts, bodies, minds entwined.

Sweat beads, drips, proceeds,

trickles down, slips deep between,

where lovers meet and two it seems,

become as one from neck to navel.

Blue-green eyes are meet with hazel.

Fervent hands caress your thighs,

whilst lusty moans pass into sighs.

Love subsides and all that stays:

Lovers locked in loving gaze.

Ambitious Droning

Again, something old; inspired by Bokowski, mild depression, sleep deprivation, and tequila. It was a rare time so don't expect any similar postings.

I watched for a long time

and waited.

Disinterested

but invidious.

Never thought to think, to stay motivated.

Never wanted anything, save everything.

Four A.M

Something on t.v., turned to low to hear.

Im writing this

thinking maybe you will read

and partake, with me,

in sour grapes.

But you're better then that

and I know it.

So I'll aspire to make good

on presentimental successes

and maybe, just maybe

even you won't hang on too high a vine.