allen-davis - Hello Poetry

God runs a carnival With a test of strength Right by the gate If you ring the bell, You get a stuffed animal And free admission. Just past the ticket taker, There on the left, Is an old carousel Painted ponies preening, Careening the children astride Mirrors by their heads Flashing the crowd's smiles As they glide Forever and ever amen. The ground is littered with ticket stubs From a raffle they had earlier, And despite the crying losers And the broken boozers I can't see the person who won. Just billions of blue ripped ribbons Carrying call numbers For the lottery of a life time, While the rest of us are left To brave the creaking tilt-a-whirl Assembled by two clowns out on bail One roll of duct tape and a promise not to fail This time. As the fire eaters and game cheaters Line the midway Barking promises of heavenly repose If only you can hit the elephant's nose With a jet of water, streaming Into its beaming mouth, Grinning despite your loss Try again, kid. Better luck next time. You'll wander into the hall of mirrors To see your sins grow and bulge Like the battle that rages In the pages of your gold-leafed heart Thin enough to tear So take care to mend Your broken ways Or you'll find yourself Climbing onto the Ferris wheel To sit on high And by God, You can see your house from here And down and around And you're bound to lose your lunch So you'll pay too much for a bunch of frozen Fries and to your surprise Sweet mercy, manna from heaven. Even though you don't know what it is, You gobble it up Because you don't wanna go to hell, But you have to get the hell away from that bell Ringing and ringing over and over Chiming in time to the line that winds Out through the dark parking lot, Every winner another sinner Washed clean by the lamb And ******* A petting zoo Never felt so good. If you ring that bell, You won't go to hell, But you won't go to heaven either. Oh no. You'll go to work Tearing tickets 'til you're sick of it, Bending mirrors in the fun house To split and bounce And reflect onto the patron That part of your heart Too broken to pump, Running the tilt-a-whirl with a burly Bouncer who got up early To **** his wife And this ain't a life sentence, Baby, it's eternity. I guess that's what you get For trusting a fuckin' carnie.

0

Feb 6, 2014

Feb 6, 2014 at 9:22 AM UTC

allen-davis

Carnival

God runs a carnival With a test of strength Right by the gate If you ring the bell, You get a stuffed animal And free admission. Just past the ticket taker, There on the left, Is an old carousel Painted ponies preening, Careening the children astride Mirrors by their heads Flashing the crowd's smiles As they glide Forever and ever amen. The ground is littered with ticket stubs From a raffle they had earlier, And despite the crying losers And the broken boozers I can't see the person who won. Just billions of blue ripped ribbons Carrying call numbers For the lottery of a life time, While the rest of us are left To brave the creaking tilt-a-whirl Assembled by two clowns out on bail One roll of duct tape and a promise not to fail This time. As the fire eaters and game cheaters Line the midway Barking promises of heavenly repose If only you can hit the elephant's nose With a jet of water, streaming Into its beaming mouth, Grinning despite your loss Try again, kid. Better luck next time. You'll wander into the hall of mirrors To see your sins grow and bulge Like the battle that rages In the pages of your gold-leafed heart Thin enough to tear So take care to mend Your broken ways Or you'll find yourself Climbing onto the Ferris wheel To sit on high And by God, You can see your house from here And down and around And you're bound to lose your lunch So you'll pay too much for a bunch of frozen Fries and to your surprise Sweet mercy, manna from heaven. Even though you don't know what it is, You gobble it up Because you don't wanna go to hell, But you have to get the hell away from that bell Ringing and ringing over and over Chiming in time to the line that winds Out through the dark parking lot, Every winner another sinner Washed clean by the lamb And ******* A petting zoo Never felt so good. If you ring that bell, You won't go to hell, But you won't go to heaven either. Oh no. You'll go to work Tearing tickets 'til you're sick of it, Bending mirrors in the fun house To split and bounce And reflect onto the patron That part of your heart Too broken to pump, Running the tilt-a-whirl with a burly Bouncer who got up early To **** his wife And this ain't a life sentence, Baby, it's eternity. I guess that's what you get For trusting a fuckin' carnie.

84

My whole life, I've been a third string hitter For a fourth string team In a no-string city With nothing to offer But the glow of the city In my childhood bedroom window. I was the batter they brought in When they wanted to avoid invoking The mercy rule Otherwise, they mercifully let me Stay on the bench. Swing, miss, swing, miss, I haven't had so many strikes since I went bowling at age 12. I had six of them that night It had been so long since I'd hit the ball That I had forgotten what home plate looked like It's becoming a nasty habit, Forgetting home. Every umpire shout of “you're out” Made me glad I didn't try to go back much. But then I met you A greased lane lady Looking for a ten-pin king We started talking over a ****** Paper boat of nachos in the 24 hour bowling alley I had stumbled into after the bar kicked me out. I knew I wanted you when you finally Explained what those little air vents On the ball return were for. “For drying your hands” you said, Demonstrating. I used them all night, partly to Seal their use into my memory, And partly because no one had ever made My hands sweat so much. You beat me, badly. You blamed it on the liquor, But I knew the truth. Just another game which I shouldn't be playing But you fought me on that. You followed me out to my car And took a cigarette from me Even though you didn't smoke, Because you wanted a reason to stand outside While you assailed me with logic. Too tired and drunk to argue, I conceded that maybe I just needed practice. So we practiced. Every day, my baseball contract Long since expired Voicemail boiling over with million-dollar egos shouting I'd never work a plate again Let 'em have their foul ***** And line drives. I had a greased lane lady And I was a ten-pin king. Strike, strike, spare, Seven ten split, Pick it up! We wore a groove in the lanes We threw more ***** than Elton John, And our palms stayed perfectly dry. The problem wasn't me. I always thought I was a defective unit A fluke in the system, a glitch. No, ***** My problem was the green and white world Shoving juice-syringes and Nike contract promises In my face When we both knew But wouldn't accept That the diamond wasn't my home. I should be on the lane Picking up an impossible split to take the frame And feed the flame my fame fans in the alley You showed me where I belong You taught me how to play. Now maybe it's my turn To show you my heart, To teach you it's name But only if you promise me You'll always be up for just one more frame

0

Feb 6, 2014

Feb 6, 2014 at 9:17 AM UTC

allen-davis

Bowler's Ode

My whole life, I've been a third string hitter For a fourth string team In a no-string city With nothing to offer But the glow of the city In my childhood bedroom window. I was the batter they brought in When they wanted to avoid invoking The mercy rule Otherwise, they mercifully let me Stay on the bench. Swing, miss, swing, miss, I haven't had so many strikes since I went bowling at age 12. I had six of them that night It had been so long since I'd hit the ball That I had forgotten what home plate looked like It's becoming a nasty habit, Forgetting home. Every umpire shout of “you're out” Made me glad I didn't try to go back much. But then I met you A greased lane lady Looking for a ten-pin king We started talking over a ****** Paper boat of nachos in the 24 hour bowling alley I had stumbled into after the bar kicked me out. I knew I wanted you when you finally Explained what those little air vents On the ball return were for. “For drying your hands” you said, Demonstrating. I used them all night, partly to Seal their use into my memory, And partly because no one had ever made My hands sweat so much. You beat me, badly. You blamed it on the liquor, But I knew the truth. Just another game which I shouldn't be playing But you fought me on that. You followed me out to my car And took a cigarette from me Even though you didn't smoke, Because you wanted a reason to stand outside While you assailed me with logic. Too tired and drunk to argue, I conceded that maybe I just needed practice. So we practiced. Every day, my baseball contract Long since expired Voicemail boiling over with million-dollar egos shouting I'd never work a plate again Let 'em have their foul ***** And line drives. I had a greased lane lady And I was a ten-pin king. Strike, strike, spare, Seven ten split, Pick it up! We wore a groove in the lanes We threw more ***** than Elton John, And our palms stayed perfectly dry. The problem wasn't me. I always thought I was a defective unit A fluke in the system, a glitch. No, ***** My problem was the green and white world Shoving juice-syringes and Nike contract promises In my face When we both knew But wouldn't accept That the diamond wasn't my home. I should be on the lane Picking up an impossible split to take the frame And feed the flame my fame fans in the alley You showed me where I belong You taught me how to play. Now maybe it's my turn To show you my heart, To teach you it's name But only if you promise me You'll always be up for just one more frame

85

When I was 8 years old, I used to roll a slinky Down the stairs Of my very old, very rickety house, An incomplete mobius strip of metal Rolling and folding over itself Down the green carpet wrapped around those stairs Carpet that had been laid before the invention of vacuums, And you could tell With every exhalation of dust My slinky looked a thousand years old By the time it found solid ground. When I was 17 years old, Those creaking stairs were an alarm system Of squeaking, Making it impossible to sneak Out on the town In search of a brown bottle To drown my troubles. Now I'm not trying to get any sympathy, And I know if I was, you'd all turn on me Like a record being flipped. And I know unrequited love is a package that's shipped To the wrong address And it'll probably get lost In the post office At the bottom of the bag... Maybe I shouldn't have sent you that ballgag Regardless, my intentions were pure And even though you can't take a picture They are worth a thousand words, All jumbled and mixed Like a ransom note cut Out of a dozen magazines, Again lost at the bottom of that bag Right next to your ballgag. Okay, last chance to plead my case But I'm getting tripped up by that gorgeous facebook Status you posted where you said birds Were love notes from God. Now I've never talked to God But what kind of benevolent, all powerful deity Would send a love note that ***** on your car? Not me, and I'll go so far As to say that's a really stupid idea. And while I'll never **** on your car, I will take you to a ****** bar And get so drunk that I'll tell you the sun rises in your hair And your hips are a valley In which I will fear no evil Because obviously God's on my side this time. Maybe he's trying to make up for that time I accidentally elbowed my Soon to be ex in the face during *** Or that time my dad hit me so hard That I don't remember what happened next. I guess all's fair in love and beer And all I really needed was to hear Your heart beating like a kettle drum While we wait for the sun To come up. And I told you every secret I had Thinking maybe if someone else knew It wouldn't hurt so bad. So we laid in the bed And we smoked 'til we choked Until the morning peeked in Like a registered *** offender And those ****** love notes told us The fantasy was over Done, finished, goodbye, gone And while I thought we had really bonded You absconded with the piece of my heart Labeled "not for resale" I don't know what you're gonna do with that part Is there a black market for broken hearts? Cause I'll gladly trade for a cracked glass vessel That pumps nearly perfectly Except for a small leak That makes you think the world Can be fixed. Even though chemistry taught me faults exist When impure compounds are mixed And the best to which we can aspire Is Balance

0

Feb 6, 2014

Feb 6, 2014 at 9:09 AM UTC

allen-davis

Balance

When I was 8 years old, I used to roll a slinky Down the stairs Of my very old, very rickety house, An incomplete mobius strip of metal Rolling and folding over itself Down the green carpet wrapped around those stairs Carpet that had been laid before the invention of vacuums, And you could tell With every exhalation of dust My slinky looked a thousand years old By the time it found solid ground. When I was 17 years old, Those creaking stairs were an alarm system Of squeaking, Making it impossible to sneak Out on the town In search of a brown bottle To drown my troubles. Now I'm not trying to get any sympathy, And I know if I was, you'd all turn on me Like a record being flipped. And I know unrequited love is a package that's shipped To the wrong address And it'll probably get lost In the post office At the bottom of the bag... Maybe I shouldn't have sent you that ballgag Regardless, my intentions were pure And even though you can't take a picture They are worth a thousand words, All jumbled and mixed Like a ransom note cut Out of a dozen magazines, Again lost at the bottom of that bag Right next to your ballgag. Okay, last chance to plead my case But I'm getting tripped up by that gorgeous facebook Status you posted where you said birds Were love notes from God. Now I've never talked to God But what kind of benevolent, all powerful deity Would send a love note that ***** on your car? Not me, and I'll go so far As to say that's a really stupid idea. And while I'll never **** on your car, I will take you to a ****** bar And get so drunk that I'll tell you the sun rises in your hair And your hips are a valley In which I will fear no evil Because obviously God's on my side this time. Maybe he's trying to make up for that time I accidentally elbowed my Soon to be ex in the face during *** Or that time my dad hit me so hard That I don't remember what happened next. I guess all's fair in love and beer And all I really needed was to hear Your heart beating like a kettle drum While we wait for the sun To come up. And I told you every secret I had Thinking maybe if someone else knew It wouldn't hurt so bad. So we laid in the bed And we smoked 'til we choked Until the morning peeked in Like a registered *** offender And those ****** love notes told us The fantasy was over Done, finished, goodbye, gone And while I thought we had really bonded You absconded with the piece of my heart Labeled "not for resale" I don't know what you're gonna do with that part Is there a black market for broken hearts? Cause I'll gladly trade for a cracked glass vessel That pumps nearly perfectly Except for a small leak That makes you think the world Can be fixed. Even though chemistry taught me faults exist When impure compounds are mixed And the best to which we can aspire Is Balance

86

Sweet waters rushing from our source Cutting paths deep and clear Watery sentinels for the Garden of Eden Rumbling thunder and flashing swords Feared and worshiped, conscripted gods made into a cradle Rage and foam, rising from our beds Driving all the wanderers away We watched the Tower under construction A thousand tongues searching for a mouth Follow the paper boats Eons later, we still guard the rubble Broken bricks and fires in the distance Yearning for our glory days

0

Feb 6, 2014

Feb 6, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC

allen-davis

Lover's Silt

Sweet waters rushing from our source Cutting paths deep and clear Watery sentinels for the Garden of Eden Rumbling thunder and flashing swords Feared and worshiped, conscripted gods made into a cradle Rage and foam, rising from our beds Driving all the wanderers away We watched the Tower under construction A thousand tongues searching for a mouth Follow the paper boats Eons later, we still guard the rubble Broken bricks and fires in the distance Yearning for our glory days

13

Drove 16 hours today Up and down the interstate Stopped for fast food in Denton Felt my treads wearing thin On 44 I felt like I was going to burst So I grabbed one of the Styrofoam cups from the passenger seat Dumped the half melted ice out my window Relief down to my feet In plain view of the policeman in his squad car Watching for people like me Desperate to get away, half-desperate to be caught For a moment in my mind I can see the celebration freedom lights red and blue Until some guy blows by doing at least 100 Breaking the spell It's three hours later and I'm asleep on your couch or pretending to be. I can hear you arguing with your boyfriend in the next room He's not nice, but he seems to know the score You come into the room and pat me on the head Hair like grease-soaked down. I hope he' sticks to your ribs like your mother's cooking I hope he plays your guitar when it rains I can hear you mumbling reassurances Spyglass in your hand Pretty pink drapes to hide the grimy windows.

0

Dec 19, 2013

Dec 19, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC

allen-davis

Pink Drapes

Drove 16 hours today Up and down the interstate Stopped for fast food in Denton Felt my treads wearing thin On 44 I felt like I was going to burst So I grabbed one of the Styrofoam cups from the passenger seat Dumped the half melted ice out my window Relief down to my feet In plain view of the policeman in his squad car Watching for people like me Desperate to get away, half-desperate to be caught For a moment in my mind I can see the celebration freedom lights red and blue Until some guy blows by doing at least 100 Breaking the spell It's three hours later and I'm asleep on your couch or pretending to be. I can hear you arguing with your boyfriend in the next room He's not nice, but he seems to know the score You come into the room and pat me on the head Hair like grease-soaked down. I hope he' sticks to your ribs like your mother's cooking I hope he plays your guitar when it rains I can hear you mumbling reassurances Spyglass in your hand Pretty pink drapes to hide the grimy windows.

25

With a full tank of gas, You're easy to avoid The snow is thick and fluffy I am overjoyed. Match my tires to the tracks ahead of me To hide my trail I can't let you follow me All the way to the grail. I'll hold that cup in my hand And get the lay of the land No one else may come aboard It's just me and the Lord Patch of ice under the snow Sends me off the bridge Photos of the two of us Under magnets on the fridge White out conditions Axle snapped in two Huddled under a blanket Nothing else I can do I'll hold that cup in my hand And get the lay of the land No one else may come aboard It's just me and the Lord No lights on the freeway No end to the snow Little hope of being rescued North wind continues to blow Can't let you find me Away I crawl And suddenly I'm warm Forward I am called I am holding that cup in my hands Just dug it out of the sand Sun shining on my weathered face I am weary of that golden chase

0

Dec 5, 2013

Dec 5, 2013 at 8:05 PM UTC

allen-davis

Anhydrous Ammonia

With a full tank of gas, You're easy to avoid The snow is thick and fluffy I am overjoyed. Match my tires to the tracks ahead of me To hide my trail I can't let you follow me All the way to the grail. I'll hold that cup in my hand And get the lay of the land No one else may come aboard It's just me and the Lord Patch of ice under the snow Sends me off the bridge Photos of the two of us Under magnets on the fridge White out conditions Axle snapped in two Huddled under a blanket Nothing else I can do I'll hold that cup in my hand And get the lay of the land No one else may come aboard It's just me and the Lord No lights on the freeway No end to the snow Little hope of being rescued North wind continues to blow Can't let you find me Away I crawl And suddenly I'm warm Forward I am called I am holding that cup in my hands Just dug it out of the sand Sun shining on my weathered face I am weary of that golden chase

36

They say *** and pizza are very much alike In so far as when it's good, it's really good. When it's bad...it's still pretty good. Poetry and tequila are also similar. When it's good, you'll be dizzy and kissing strangers. When it's bad, you'll be worshiping at the porcelain altar, so to speak. There is a sensation when you're standing on the edge of a cliff, looking over And you realize that there is nothing to keep you from hurtling down into the ravine But your own willpower Which, if you're like me, Quickly begins eroding. I wonder if everyone feels that way I wonder if there are some people who can look over a high ledge And not immediately begin panicking that they will toss themselves over In a fit. Perhaps this is why baby birds fall out of nests.

0

Nov 15, 2013

Nov 15, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC

allen-davis

Baby Birds

They say *** and pizza are very much alike In so far as when it's good, it's really good. When it's bad...it's still pretty good. Poetry and tequila are also similar. When it's good, you'll be dizzy and kissing strangers. When it's bad, you'll be worshiping at the porcelain altar, so to speak. There is a sensation when you're standing on the edge of a cliff, looking over And you realize that there is nothing to keep you from hurtling down into the ravine But your own willpower Which, if you're like me, Quickly begins eroding. I wonder if everyone feels that way I wonder if there are some people who can look over a high ledge And not immediately begin panicking that they will toss themselves over In a fit. Perhaps this is why baby birds fall out of nests.

15

When I met you for the first time, I thought your eyes were the biggest I’d ever seen And I ignored my usual dislike of mouths as large as yours, Reasoning that it should be so wide to accommodate the smiles you always wore. At lunch, you quoted Mia Wallace and I should have known then to run. Instead, I asked you about New York. Your food got cold because you talked for so long. I was silent and full. Driving you back home, I told you my first lie when you asked if I was an atheist. We had *** in your bathroom the next day. I watched movies you liked. I told you my second lie when I pretended to cry at the end of Elizabethtown We had *** again that night. Roughly. I told you I would move back to New York with you in the fall. Another lie. Another ****** Lying to you came naturally and so I did it often. It makes sense, then, that the whole affair would end with a lie. New York wasn’t the problem. You were.

0

Nov 2, 2013

Nov 2, 2013 at 1:07 AM UTC

allen-davis

You'll Be A Woman Soon

When I met you for the first time, I thought your eyes were the biggest I’d ever seen And I ignored my usual dislike of mouths as large as yours, Reasoning that it should be so wide to accommodate the smiles you always wore. At lunch, you quoted Mia Wallace and I should have known then to run. Instead, I asked you about New York. Your food got cold because you talked for so long. I was silent and full. Driving you back home, I told you my first lie when you asked if I was an atheist. We had *** in your bathroom the next day. I watched movies you liked. I told you my second lie when I pretended to cry at the end of Elizabethtown We had *** again that night. Roughly. I told you I would move back to New York with you in the fall. Another lie. Another ****** Lying to you came naturally and so I did it often. It makes sense, then, that the whole affair would end with a lie. New York wasn’t the problem. You were.

20

There are no ways to safeword out of this life. I know, I’ve tried them all. Elephant, apple, Alaska, amen. Tried screaming anything into the pillow my face is pushed down into, Whiskey, tango, foxtrot, stop Exhausted my vocabulary against the blanket my fists are balled into fists against, Anything to make the beatings stop But they just Keep Coming. In **** having a safeword is like wearing a seatbelt. There are rules about having one And the ones who choose to do without Are taking risks. We are born without lifejackets, without seatbelts and safecut scissors Without breakaway glass or rubberized mats Without any way to make the world slow down Let us catch our breath, And jump back in. There are no hard limits in the real world. So we bite into our gags and wait for the session to end. Elephant, apple, Alaska, amen.

0

Nov 2, 2013

Nov 2, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC

allen-davis

Safewords

There are no ways to safeword out of this life. I know, I’ve tried them all. Elephant, apple, Alaska, amen. Tried screaming anything into the pillow my face is pushed down into, Whiskey, tango, foxtrot, stop Exhausted my vocabulary against the blanket my fists are balled into fists against, Anything to make the beatings stop But they just Keep Coming. In **** having a safeword is like wearing a seatbelt. There are rules about having one And the ones who choose to do without Are taking risks. We are born without lifejackets, without seatbelts and safecut scissors Without breakaway glass or rubberized mats Without any way to make the world slow down Let us catch our breath, And jump back in. There are no hard limits in the real world. So we bite into our gags and wait for the session to end. Elephant, apple, Alaska, amen.

22

stood outside and waited for you, Looking around the parking lot You pushed your way through the crowd Just to hold my hand We went north to Michigan Where the beach was so cold, We practically ran back to the car And had our picnic in the passenger seat I drove west to Arizona Just so I would feel warm again It’s a dry heat. It doesn’t help We watched the news in Oklahoma And you held my hand again And we shook my demons off for the night We drove through to California You said you saw me On a scuba trip in Bermuda On the ocean floor, dancing with a mermaid It was only a dream. Go back to sleep, It was only a dream.

0

Nov 2, 2013

Nov 2, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC

allen-davis

Running Away (From Home)

stood outside and waited for you, Looking around the parking lot You pushed your way through the crowd Just to hold my hand We went north to Michigan Where the beach was so cold, We practically ran back to the car And had our picnic in the passenger seat I drove west to Arizona Just so I would feel warm again It’s a dry heat. It doesn’t help We watched the news in Oklahoma And you held my hand again And we shook my demons off for the night We drove through to California You said you saw me On a scuba trip in Bermuda On the ocean floor, dancing with a mermaid It was only a dream. Go back to sleep, It was only a dream.

22