Faith in Love

That romantic piece of shit poem
I wrote you
to get us into bed?
The one that sounds like a country song
all treacly and moist
informing you how I’d never give you up
or desert you?
That crap
that seemed to define all of our early days?
Yeah, I believe it now.
I believe it all.
I’ve got that olde thyme religion
and it’s a faith in love
– in you.

I don’t know when it happened
but it might have been
when you twisted your hair
around your wedding finger
right after I asked you to dance.
We never got to it, but
I could tell you wanted to
and whatever was twisting in your head
made me realize
that all the things I’d claimed
to get near to you
were all probably true.
Most of it, maybe
Certainly some.

I’ve been watching Lifetime movies
and thinking about us.
I’ve been hearing pop ballads
and quietly weeping.
I’ve gone into funks
when you don’t call me back
and I’m – me! –
I’m thinking of our future.

Something’s happened to me, baby;
you didn’t do it
but it sure seems like
you’re pretty involved.
I hope we stay involved
for some time to come
so my heart can go on.

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Bad Poetry

It was great to meet you last week
what with your charm and beauty and willful ways.
I have been thinking about you
quite a bit
since that golden age of yesterday.

I find you beguiling.
I find you educational.
I find you an inspiration
and, rest assured,
you’ve inspired me to write a thousand odes.

I’m making bad poetry over you.
I’ll write about everything you do.
Think you’ve got my attention? You haven’t got a clue.
I’ll write all the bad poetry over you.

I’ve been looking up all the words
that rhyme with “splendiferous,”
so I can best catalog the thoughts I have
when I think about you.
I’ve even drafted some lines for Opus Alexandra,
Number One.
Here’s the start:
“Your lips painted red
a fresh blood swath
across your shimmering white face…”

That’s the stuff!
That’ll prove my love.

Well, love might not be the exact right word
for what we share.
Maybe it’s lust
or limerence
or looting the booty.
Either way
I’ve got a lot to say
about what I think about you
and you’re gonna hear it
every week at the open mics
for many a month to come.

I’m building a slam book all about you
listing all the ways you make me happy and blue.
If there was someone else I wanted to be writing to
I wouldn’t have all these bad poems for you.

I’ve got eight jillion bad poems written for you.
If you’re nice to me you’ll hear some of them, it’s true.
If I get sad, that day you will rue
cuz then I’ll unleash all the bad poems ’bout you.

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Pool Odds

When we were in the jury pool
you sat next to me
which was damned convenient
since I’d stared agape an hour earlier
or maybe it was because of it.
Maybe you recognized
the first time ever I saw your face
and saw in my appreciation
something to reciprocate.

Or maybe not.
Maybe it was simple convenience
that brought you close to me.
Either way
I was appreciative of the opportunity
to absorb your essence up close
but I never said “Hello,”
The courage escaped me
and I ended up shaking
too slightly for you to see
(I hope)
and it didn’t take you long
to find another seat.

I don’t know why
I couldn’t speak to you
when you afforded such an excellent invitation.
I suppose I’m worried
about being judged not worthy
which makes it more curious
that I’m speaking to you now
while you are clearly nowhere near
to render any verdict.

I don’t know.
Maybe you wanted to hear this admission
like how maybe you wanted
to sit next to me before.

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PB & J Slight Return

You’re making it harder
for me to make my point.
Continuously I find
I can do nothing but stutter,
sputter out irrelevancies.
Inanity upon insanity escapes me
when you come around.
I’m not half the man I want to be.
All my strength simply abandons me
in your presence.

But ironically
in your absence
there seems no point in speaking.
Without you near
why bother?
I am left these days
a blithering ditherer when I see you
and a moping myopic,
blind to even basic pleasures,
when you’re gone.
What can I do?

Does this make any sense?
Am I successfully stringing words together
to get you to understand my central thesis?
If not
then I suspect
you’re already on your way over.

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Remain Upright

Thank you for the warning
about these awful conditions
on these terrible days.
I appreciate the information
you so effortlessly offer,
but honestly
I have no intention of falling
for the foreseeable future.

When I tread upon the ice
I shall be upright.
I shall be strong.
I shall stride forcefully, carefully
and I will not stumble.
I will not crack.
I shall glide safely past all problems.

There are others who.
when faced with difficulties,
will choose to fail
rather that rise to the level of the test.
They opt to not succeed,
to fail, to fall to the lowest depths.
I am not one of those.
I am not a loser.
Instead, I shall win.

I shall win
and when I walk out into the wastes
I will be one who survives.
I will not be defeated
for I will decide to thrive.
I will not fall,
not if I have anything to say about it.

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You ask me why I picked you.
out of all the girls
in all the gin joints
in all the world,
I looked your way
and thought, “cool beans.”
Clearly, you’re curious
what made me believe that ours
could be such a beautiful friendship.

You wonder why my eyes don’t wander
when we speak
and how I can call attention
to a detail you might have mentioned once,
weeks ago.

You ask me
over and over again
why you captivate me.
The very question
is part of the answer.
You very much doubt
why anyone would be interested in you.
You are suspicious
since how could anyone
want to know more
about you?

More than your beauty
more than your bust
more than your face and fashion
put together for best effect,
more than your smarts and style
and weird way with words
more than any of the unnamables
that keep me so close
it is your modesty
that becomes you most.

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Twenty First

In the twenty first
gestation was a slave to biology
and only women were capable of carrying
so gender roles
were less fluid
than they eventually became.
Males would protect the home
while females would feather the nest.
These differences were maintained
since the technology to body-transform
was still in its infancy.
Imagine being stuck
with the restrictions that nature provided.

Even so
with its additional power
in the twenty first
nature was but a bitch
to be beaten down
and made to whimper
before her master
who was thought of as man.
The earth was considered a serf
raped and robbed
however humans saw fit.
The concept of partnership with the planet
was not fully developed
until the True World War
when the environment violently fought
and sought its freedom
from civilization’s yolk.

Back in the twenty first
the dominant religion
was capitalism
where dollars and euros and yen
held sway
and social dominance was decided
by whomever had collected most
of the currency of choice.
People thrived with an abundance.
People died from a lack.
What is so fascinating about the era
is that the items deemed so valuable
the coins or credit
had no specific worth
outside of the faith placed upon them.
they so powerfully defined
those years
and humans were made constant servants
to their imaginary gods.
How unlike today
when we worship our shared universe
and still opaque,
its future

In the twenty first
flesh was consumed
for sustenance.
There was a loose understanding
of the compact between creatures
but living bodies
were slaughtered
by the trillions
so that billions of living bodies
could live omnivorously.
Entire cultures
would see nothing wrong
in eating things with faces
– usually because they were divorced
from the process.

In the twenty first
the world was exciting
and new
like a weaning foal
full of energy
and absent of any actual understanding.
In the twenty first
it was good to be alive
until we
as a people
learned to live better.

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Power of White

There is an encroaching white
menacingly mighty
threatening to take everything around it
transforming everything
into its own elegant simplicity.

There is an expanse of white
a blinding basic view
with no details
no specificity
nothing that separates it
from anything else.
This white encompasses all
swallows colors and consideration
and creates a uniform beauty.

There is a white
that blankets the world
and has
since the beginning.

That white is invincible
and sometimes
– rarely
but sometimes –
it can be stopped by a single action
or a solitary word.

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No Swap

We have been friends for decades and days
and have each helped the other in myriad ways.
Remember last week when I gave you my crack?
Well, I fear, dearest friend, it’s time for payback.

Fuck my wife and I’ll buy you a bagel
Fuck my wife and I’ll get you a car
but just like my wife it won’t start up easy.
It takes you there slowly; you won’t get too far.

Do my bride and show her how it’s done.
Be my replacement; provide her some fun.
Fuck my wife. I won’t be aggrieved.
It will give me the reason to finally leave.

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On The Corner

They used to sell stuff
right here
on the corner.
There was a blanket
with LPs and books
and the salesmen would change
every few weeks
but the product
was all pretty much the same.

There used to be stores
where I could find stuff
I wanted to buy
like that 24 record store
and the PC recycled goods place.

This neighborhood
used to be one that seemed tailor made
for me and my kind.
I don’t know
if it’s my kind that changed
or me
or the neighborhood
but there’s nothing here
I wanna get.

All I want
is to buy a cheap book.

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