PigeonPea - Hello Poetry

My heart swells at the at the sound of music Put it on and I fall in love, just for those four or five minutes Rock courses through the veins Lo-fi beats helps to settle one down Classical, purely timeless Rap sticks to the modern Country is a bitter pill Bluegrass gets the kids kicking Merengue for fast lovers Bachata for los viejitos that love slowly Drown out the world with sixteenth notes, codas, beeps, and bloops Learn about people through how they step Rhythmically wiggle, a shake All of this melodic noise to keep us going It tells us you are going to make it.

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Aug 3, 2020

Aug 3, 2020 at 9:46 AM UTC

Canción

My heart swells at the at the sound of music Put it on and I fall in love, just for those four or five minutes Rock courses through the veins Lo-fi beats helps to settle one down Classical, purely timeless Rap sticks to the modern Country is a bitter pill Bluegrass gets the kids kicking Merengue for fast lovers Bachata for los viejitos that love slowly Drown out the world with sixteenth notes, codas, beeps, and bloops Learn about people through how they step Rhythmically wiggle, a shake All of this melodic noise to keep us going It tells us you are going to make it.

16

Dimetapp all glistening cherry, Flonase with its vibrant green cap, Day old Campbell’s chicken noodle soup, Scattered unripe oranges over the counter, How many days can a person lay sick? Cold mug of coffee with almond milk inclusions, Watered down yellow stained tissues, Eucalyptus tinted steam clouds from the humidifier, Muted television talking heads spouting delusions, The ragged edges of a quilt around the shoulders, Enigmatic envelopes with bills within, Perhaps someday they’ll see the light, Forks in occultic formation, Spoons in opposition of the forks, Bamboo shoots staring from above, Blush Yankee Candles cower, I’ve been sitting here for over an hour, Watching these objects has made me grow sour, After all, there is not much to do in a fever dream, So I will just stare, sniffle, and drink my cold coffee with cream.

0

Aug 3, 2020

Aug 3, 2020 at 9:31 AM UTC

Dimetapp

Dimetapp all glistening cherry, Flonase with its vibrant green cap, Day old Campbell’s chicken noodle soup, Scattered unripe oranges over the counter, How many days can a person lay sick? Cold mug of coffee with almond milk inclusions, Watered down yellow stained tissues, Eucalyptus tinted steam clouds from the humidifier, Muted television talking heads spouting delusions, The ragged edges of a quilt around the shoulders, Enigmatic envelopes with bills within, Perhaps someday they’ll see the light, Forks in occultic formation, Spoons in opposition of the forks, Bamboo shoots staring from above, Blush Yankee Candles cower, I’ve been sitting here for over an hour, Watching these objects has made me grow sour, After all, there is not much to do in a fever dream, So I will just stare, sniffle, and drink my cold coffee with cream.

20

A child. An only child. A child of the internet. Raised on flashing images, raised on gorging down content. Know the best and worst and most obscure video games right off the tip of your head. Feel soothed by a streamer’s voice, get influenced by a community’s humor, find a niche, burrow in it. Not many friends, but they raised you, made you feel not so alone, which you are, physically, mentally. Stay up for hours, muted television, bright laptop screen. They say blue light’s bad for the eyes, bad for circadian rhythms, let’s test out that theory. There goes your role model, the one you want to meet desperately, dying over and over in some badly designed game. No more anxiety, just the game. No more life, just the stream.

0

Mar 10, 2019

Mar 10, 2019 at 3:02 PM UTC

Present

A child. An only child. A child of the internet. Raised on flashing images, raised on gorging down content. Know the best and worst and most obscure video games right off the tip of your head. Feel soothed by a streamer’s voice, get influenced by a community’s humor, find a niche, burrow in it. Not many friends, but they raised you, made you feel not so alone, which you are, physically, mentally. Stay up for hours, muted television, bright laptop screen. They say blue light’s bad for the eyes, bad for circadian rhythms, let’s test out that theory. There goes your role model, the one you want to meet desperately, dying over and over in some badly designed game. No more anxiety, just the game. No more life, just the stream.

11

Stop Take a look, just for a moment, go on do it What do you see? No, do not say ‘me’ How about that weeping man? Who claimed to always have a plan Now look over at that young couple They’re recently engaged You can see the sparkles in their eyes and their glittering diamonds In a time not too long ago that would’ve been impossible, right? Don’t forget the shouting children They run and run But not from their problems, no They do it for fun Do you see what I mean? All of these complex human beings, walking around Just existing, like you and me Breathing and feeling Like you and me

0

Mar 10, 2019

Mar 10, 2019 at 2:57 PM UTC

Sonder

Stop Take a look, just for a moment, go on do it What do you see? No, do not say ‘me’ How about that weeping man? Who claimed to always have a plan Now look over at that young couple They’re recently engaged You can see the sparkles in their eyes and their glittering diamonds In a time not too long ago that would’ve been impossible, right? Don’t forget the shouting children They run and run But not from their problems, no They do it for fun Do you see what I mean? All of these complex human beings, walking around Just existing, like you and me Breathing and feeling Like you and me

19

At one, the concept of a bed is not quite there yet, but comfort never leaves At three, one toddles into the sheets of their parents with no intention of sharing At five, one begins to dread getting up for school At seven, friends get one through the morning At nine, one still complains about waking up so early At eleven, minds begin to change At thirteen, one lays in bed during the morning in a cloud of self-consciousness At fifteen, one tosses and turns with thoughts of homework and that cute girl at lunch At seventeen, one stares at the popcorn ceiling contemplating the future, threads of some unknowable as heavy as lead intertwining the possibilities At nineteen, one can bend under the burdensome troubles and be sequestered to their comfort at home Or lift the hulking sheets, Atlas, and go on. Go on to the complex, enigmatic world and return when one is done.

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Mar 1, 2019

Mar 1, 2019 at 9:36 AM UTC

Dysania

At one, the concept of a bed is not quite there yet, but comfort never leaves At three, one toddles into the sheets of their parents with no intention of sharing At five, one begins to dread getting up for school At seven, friends get one through the morning At nine, one still complains about waking up so early At eleven, minds begin to change At thirteen, one lays in bed during the morning in a cloud of self-consciousness At fifteen, one tosses and turns with thoughts of homework and that cute girl at lunch At seventeen, one stares at the popcorn ceiling contemplating the future, threads of some unknowable as heavy as lead intertwining the possibilities At nineteen, one can bend under the burdensome troubles and be sequestered to their comfort at home Or lift the hulking sheets, Atlas, and go on. Go on to the complex, enigmatic world and return when one is done.

11

Here is where I met you, in our space, in our sphere, but I appropriated it from you, didn’t I? You liked to stand near the pungent water pipe behind the building Just under the flickering neon. Here is where I witnessed a whirlwind in still life, careful but creepily Analyzing your ways. You are something dangerous but sparkling, something I should not need but alas, here we are. Here is where you stand and look straight ahead, boring into my eyes. Your voice, melodic, distant, tinged with some almond liqueur ‘I’m not yours’ You do not know that, do not worsen the dragging of life, please. There is a coppery, slick taste on my tongue, you do not know. Here is where you stood but now you are gone.

0

Mar 1, 2019

Mar 1, 2019 at 9:32 AM UTC

Dangers

Here is where I met you, in our space, in our sphere, but I appropriated it from you, didn’t I? You liked to stand near the pungent water pipe behind the building Just under the flickering neon. Here is where I witnessed a whirlwind in still life, careful but creepily Analyzing your ways. You are something dangerous but sparkling, something I should not need but alas, here we are. Here is where you stand and look straight ahead, boring into my eyes. Your voice, melodic, distant, tinged with some almond liqueur ‘I’m not yours’ You do not know that, do not worsen the dragging of life, please. There is a coppery, slick taste on my tongue, you do not know. Here is where you stood but now you are gone.

14