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Harry J Baxter Mar 2014
With great power comes the shirking of great responsibilities
I am the super zero
so **** justice and right and wrong
the track is stuck on a loop
and it sounds like insanity feels on fingertips
in our hedonistic heathenism we tore the palace walls down
only to make room for something far more beautiful
she taught me that
behind closed eyelids we all look the same
and the floor rising up to meet us
feels more like flying than a crippling fall
our time here is flying out the window by the second
like paper debris in a car going sixty with the windows down in the summer
my source of most frustration stemming from my own warped principles
let them all go
because we’ve all got life left to live and as nice as dreams are
the concrete of the pavement outside is always real
always there
consistently mundane
so make an adventure out of macaroni paintings
and smash all of the clocks and wristwatches
let’s act as stupid as we did in middle school
lets burn our caution at the stake
and say ***** to your paranoid thoughts
the paint has to dry before it can chip away
charity the most prototypical example of how self-serving
and alms aren’t always mutually exclusive
so keep on driving outraged fist into the metaphoric faces of all of your excuses
and keep on burning at your own fiery temperature
you owe us to try and shape this world into a painting of pure beauty
and **** all of the other irrelevances
she taught me that
Harry J Baxter Mar 2014
You were trying to cover your footprints in the sand
and only ended up leaving more
a spiral of your perfectionism
look over there -
over the beach houses on stilts
and the fauna - scrap metal bushes and dry, lonely trees -
see how the sun’s kiss sets the sky on fire?
the water is licking our heels with an icy, arctic tongue
we could walk westwards until our silhouettes are vaporized
but the sand is relaxed and this beach is empty
the acoustic guitar is talking in its sleep
ADD children are doing backflips in the backyard

Night crashes and crashes and recedes into the horizon
we climbed atop one another with visions of lunar satisfaction
time slows down and each drop of condensation on the window
contains the secrets of this muggy southeastern air
the strangers are encroaching too thick to think
warped monstrous faces ripe with desire
we couldn’t answer the questions so we burned the test
tinder to our fire so we could ward off the predators for another night
but the ground is growing smaller day by day

Mr. Demon do not deviate from this round of double dutch
my shoelaces are tied together
and I am hopelessly drunk off of your ideas on romance
that mix of sunscreen, sweat, perfume, and your breath
as my fingers prune
we mistook the blinking jet engine for morse code from the stars
once the clouds part we will have an escape route
taking flight with the startled panic of street birds
the earth will shake, the seas boil over, and the clouds will applaud
with wings made of coat hangers, brown paper bags, and masking tape
we will arr through the sky
like fireworks
Harry J Baxter Mar 2014
Have You Found God?

priestess you have found me shameful in my wanting
my sin, your stubbed toe
you curse me
in ways I have never heard -
but I found God -
I found God in the silence of quiet night time street
and the bathroom floor
God came into the restaurant once
he didn’t tip
but he did turn all the water into wine
God sleeps by the bus shelter
and asks for cigarettes
God is an old insane man in the halfway house
he sells me his piano CD’s for five bucks a pop
I read his libretto once, it was alright
God is a family man - a father
but every Friday night around 630 PM
you can find him at the bar, because a guy has to cut loose sometimes
God asked me for directions to the Garden of Eden
and sleeps with a night light
Oh priestess, I know you lament your long lost husband
in long forgotten altars to the old world
just know he’s out there
always in the last place you look
Harry J Baxter Mar 2014
I downloaded my honest expression of feelings for you
but it came as a zip file
and I’m hardly tech savvy
so It sits in my hardrive with the other long lost files
like that first bike ride without training wheels
and christmas back before it all got so painfully awkward
two spaces above it
is the memory of being chased by angry farmers on tractors
and the file I edited last
was my self-image profile picture

I want you.
but sometimes wires don’t connect and the connection tends to
falter - lag
so I sent my mind to the pornographic district
where the lights flicker so red, like your favorite shade of lipstick
and for a few minutes there I committed biblical abomination
which is a fancy ******* way of saying I jacked off
before checking my local news site for the five day forecast
rain, rain, rain, rain, but a hint of sunshine

Woah! That’s a risky site! Are you sure you still want to continue?
not really. But last time I checked I never asked you for anything
so I’m buying the ingredients for happiness on ebay
two parts forty ounces of malt liquor
three parts resin stained smoking apparatus
two parts the wrong crowd
and ten parts stupid *** decisions
now I’m stumbling upon locked door keyholes
to see bootleg copies of your next summer blockbuster
they’re worth the ten dollars a pop - I’m just broke

I tried to upload a **** shaming video of you to youtube
but it was taking too **** long to process
so instead I tweeted all 140 of the characters I have played
and wrote you a bittersweet, scathing review
4.5 stars out of 5 - would not recommend
#FuckYou
I would still swipe right to your front door on silent nights
smelling like a bad rock and roll cliche
saying the same one liners over and over again

I listened to your swan song on spotify
and yeah, I’ll admit, It had me swaying
but that might just be the new “Twenty dollar a week diet”
I was forwarded online
so skype with my self-esteem
and IM me your holy of holies
and I’ll pretend whichever God you follow is up there somewhere
maybe I am just a post on your blog
maybe I’m just the virus causing you to curse at low speed internet
but I think you should leave your ISP a nasty voicemail
because this headspace is corrupted
and this computer is crashing towards an eternal shutdown
Harry J Baxter Mar 2014
On the first Friday of every month
the Arts District of Richmond VA
becomes alive at night with the buzz of artists
local artists of almost every medium
galleries which are only open for ten hours a month
suddenly filled with leather shoes
plaid shirts, skinny jeans, beards, and holes in earlobes
they walk around crowding the streets
coaxing families who made the trip from all the way uptown
to listen to the poets and painters and photographers and sculptors
prattle on about what sets them apart
they all clap each other on the back for being so **** original
I’m walking through the parted sepia sea
avoiding gazes of strangers cast in iron
I marvel at their work
which for this one night is the subject of a city
more or less, anyways
we were high on life. We were high off of too much ***
and all of the local talent
high on validation and pretension
the Mormons accosted us
their attempts to save our souls from damnation
really geeked us out
we took their lemonade, but not their word
“Incarceration: the art of captivity”
an installation by some kid who has never seen a shade of true blue
through the lens of his iPhone
if we all believe really hard -
then maybe when the sky opens up
to **** us all into the hungry sky -
all of this art will save us
Harry J Baxter Mar 2014
You said that satire is not your favorite flavor ice cream
well sweetheart that is too **** bad
the broken clock on my wall
is right more than you’d think
and this broken record may make you seasick
but I wouldn’t trade it for all the pretty girl smiles in the world
you said I dress like a poor man when really I’m a smiling white faced teen
well you dress like one of my wet dreams
so who’s really winning?
so my lines are played out? Washed up? Dried up? Flat?
So my howl is more of a yawn? My leaves of grass more like turf?
well crucify me to your canvas little miss art
I look good in red and blue
you said I take things too personally
or not at all
you said that apathy isn’t really that attractive
well neither is *******, but somehow you pull it off
you said you think we’ve still got a few weeks of winter left
so how come I can feel the clouds beginning to break over head?
you’re right. I am wrong. You are wrong. I am wrong. You are right.
would you pass me the ashtray please
I think I may have gotten ahead of myself
this headache is too large for advil to tame
and my throat is itching again
so, just for a while, I think I’m going to put you on hold
Harry J Baxter Mar 2014
The coffee is brewing in the kitchen
God that line is played
but it is true
black drop after black drop
you are in bed still
I have not been much of a sleeper as of late
up by 830 down by 330
so I am brewing us a whole *** of coffee
which the *** says is twelve cups
but it is really six
even numbers are good like that
and now you dream in unmade bed
of things I wish I could drag kicking and screaming
into this reality
twelve(six) cups takes a little bit of time
so I’m writing you bleary eyed poetry
by the open window as winter’s last breath chills so nice
what are we going to do today?
get breakfast? go for a drive? I’ve got no work today
are we going to fight
cat and dogs and all that other crap?
oh we are?
then It’s a good job the coffee’s ready
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