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Hank Roberts Mar 2012
It's like trying to tickle someone when you have no fingernails

It's like writing poetry with no heart and with no words at all.

It's smoking cigarettes everyday for awhile and not thinking about it,

they say lung cancer wants to see you after your show, don't forget skin cancer called too

It's getting a massage from your ex and your girlfriend enters,
It's like hearing sirens but not seeing red and blue,
It's not remembering why you got their but do
you remember the path you walked to see those iron bars?  

It's a hat with no brim, or an animal lacking primal instinct

it's trees without phloem but osmosis is falling on itself

it's a painter without eyes, a prophet whose own cat got his tongue

its all about armed forces, arms dealers, war on drugs, war on terrorism, brothers in arms, support the soldiers, remembering those fallen, veterans, astronauts, republican nominees, presidential faults|
"We want the world to stabilize."

It's like vanishing and coming again, its not a reflection from water

it's not a magician revealing his trick or certainly not receiving a wizard's staff

it's more like having Shakespeare's pen but not quite enough paper

it's sort of like having the world in your hand but immediately getting your arm cut off.
Hank Roberts Mar 2012
Songs of sweet
     Songs of melancholic airs
  The tears made me stare
In this heat, on the highest glacial peak
Building of new
     Buildings of new concrete
  Leaves no room to compete
Only to a few who are left with an old view
Thoughts of silence
      Thoughts of persistence
  When faith leaves a glimpse
A golden hint! The dream- leave it to pinch your arm
Men of heed
     Men of silver streaks
  The green is what they seek
They plant seeds, all they give us is mead
Brothers in arms
       Brothers that are sworn
   aren't allowed to mourn
The fired farms and bombed out barns
The light of night
     The night of fight
  It's always out of sight
With all my night, I removed the spike
Starved from lunch
      Hunger for laughter
  Either way he's your master
There's a hunch, there's no time to hunt!
Hank Roberts Mar 2012
When the shoreline isn’t
the third floor, lightning won’t fly
at all or at once.

the trees turn to plastic
trees when Africa’s carved.
We won’t 'hurt' them that much.

I remember anticipation sneaking slowly
when we all had butterflies
in the stomach.  

Remember the one who showed you
what was new? The one who gave
you chills down the spine?

When the trees of earth are the
algae of the sea, moss will be
endangered species

when the best mutation is gills,
the pastime will skid from consumption
to survival instinct.

when the institution holds the
artist down and uses
two rolls of gorilla tape

As long as everything remains
the same we won't have
to realize we're backstabbed.

The universe crystallizes and
the sea turns to muck; theoretical
garbage and ****.

The clouds melt into the grass
The mountains drop and when
There’s no peak to see what’s left,

I'll be on top of my mountain
I got no hand in the outcome
And so I’ll turn at last.
Hank Roberts Feb 2012
I know my words aren't fleeting
     to your heart straight away, it's
         these words that lure around
  You said write something sweet
       --Your hair is hot
             Then I was caught--
        You're sweeter than mary jane.  
Music flows-the river too. All
     the lyrics we know diffuse
        To the knowledge of one--Ours
   both together, hopefully forever
            Love is light; almost too light--
         Even enough to blind
    --Oh, I don't mind
Hank Roberts Feb 2012
There were numerous footprints
           in pudding on the ground leading to
                  my room while I went to answer the telephone
                             that had been ringing.  The phone had a strange stain
on it. it could have been barbeque sauce,
                                                                          Ketchup
                                                                                         or blood.
                                                                              Then the phone turned
                                                            to ash and then the room!
                                      One wrong move
                             and the whole
                      Thing comes
       crumbling down.
We fell for ever,
     Inner-walls slimed and excreting fiery ***** chunks
              while the search for water is abandon
      Landed in a pool of black thick slimy muck,
The snakes comes slither,
              tar oil, burnt charcoal; snakes
     Pearly white eyes and long black tongue
                   There venom is the orange in the bag from liposuction
                            A light! I say, A light! down there!
                                                            sometimes the only way out is deeper through the ****** pus hole
                                          And fight the white head with nothing but your bare hands
Hank Roberts Feb 2012
I took his brain and
put it in the formaldehyde
Albert's genius, is a duty for science.
No extra neurons, just  some extra glue;
the glial cells, loop the frontal lobes
and swim in the right hemisphere.
Diamond wanted some samples
but I waited awhile
Three years after I sent
the parts she wanted
in a mayonnaise jar. Extra light
mayonnaise jar.  They learned
about astrocytes and
communication through the brain.
The more the glial glutamate; the more
effectiveness
If the brain was never stolen
who knows where we'd
be at
Only a genius could communicate
during and after his life.
Hank Roberts Feb 2012
Sleepless nights
Gruesome fights
Endless charade and hopeless relief
Rich-less but paid
Watch the thief
He'll come when you sleep

Slippery snakes (slither)
Through liquid waste
Forget the mannered, wrestle the man
For he's hammered
Money's at hand
Everything is left on you

Empty cupboard
Bills unanswered
The bread sits at the store
Swiftly grab it,
Wanting more,
Can't hide more than one

Dribbled beer
Obese chins
Sweaty hairy, middle aged hounds
Cheer with Merry,
Ignore the sounds
Almost out and homeward bound

Dirt cold shower
They took your power
Fungus for soap, mildew towels
Don't just hope
Jump on the prowl
Winning will end it all

Seven, Eight, UP
Counter, upper cut
Momentum rising, moving in  
Swing for his eyes,
Flattened chin,
Nine, ten..You're out for the count
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