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Jack Piatt Mar 2014
Turquoise blues guitars
Laughing baby elephants (that paint)
Melodies singing lullabies to sleepy baby elephants
(tired from painting all day)
Blank canvases full of blackberries on the inside
The antidote to love
All the dotes that didn't get doted
And all the ones that did
Playing badminton in the backyard of Cupid's summer home in Manarola
The ruby that died to make Dorothy's slippers
And the shortest hair from the Lion's tail
Wine filled grapes
Water balloons filled from hot springs and melted mountain snow
Two spokes from Steve McQueen's "Great Escape" motorcycle
Three kisses from Ilsa Lund
And a smile from Sabrina Fairchild
Tom Robbins' typewriter (it's magic)
A flying dragon
A dragonfly (grounded for not doing her homework)
Jenny's phone number
The pillow that hit the floor at Cecilia's that afternoon
The third stair from the top of the Stairway to Heaven (best view)
One of the lost souls swimming in a fish bowl
And a grain of salt from the sea the other is swimming in
An olympic size pool full of melted crayons
A vile of sweat from the ever fleeing muse
A refrigerator the size of Rhode Island
Full of magnificent lines of magnetic poetry
Poetry (all of it)
The monster under the monster's bed
Every foul ball ever caught by any kid
Hammocks (any and every)
The cardboard boat that never stopped sailing down the gutter of the world
The secret to everything
(kept securely under the bed of the monster, under the monster's bed)
Santa's real address (you won't believe this)
The blue ink from the blueprints of Atlantis
Golf carts with no maximum speed
The energy dust left from dancing, hugging and smiling
Freshly climbed trees
A warehouse the size of Antarctica completely filled
Wall to wall with raw, unfiltered laughter
Everything that was left on the field
Passionate embraces and embracing a passion
Apology free, but full of forgiveness
The wild of the wilderness
The tame of the un-tame
First kisses, waves and winks
Goodbye hugs and thrown in kitchen sinks
Puddles that have been danced in under pouring rain
Empty film cans
Films on screens
All of these ingredients
Are what makes up
(c) Jack Piatt 2014
Jack Piatt Mar 2014
You’d do well to keep in mind
The lines falling short inside
And all the people standing outside
Looking in
Feeling the sin
Sink down their arms
Into their shoes
And out of brain range
This is it
The reckoning
Of sorts anyway
The lost keys found
The square peg round
The light at the end of the tunnel
On an extra long chord
Finally being pulled
Nighty night
Let all that ails you tuck you down tight
Bring back the child of let’s say 10
That version of you
And start explaining
As you have much to do
He might look up and say
“Who are you?”
And that’s a valid ******* question you know
Valid ******* question
Cause he won’t know
And neither will you
The disconnect is growing moss
Off the side of Highway 2
And memories are like old VHS tapes
That nobody watches anymore
Don’t have time for that
Too much going on
With all the nothing to move and stack
Sifting for change
Like it’s in your pocket
And you’re at the soda machine
After walking back into town mid-June
Cause your car breaks down
In the middle of the Middle(est) West
And you are thirsty
But the machine is all out
And the clock is broken
Along with your need for concern
It just doesn’t matter now
And you are more than well aware
You are ****** scope
From 300 yards up and away aware
There’s no move (even the slightest) getting past you
You guard that tower
Like an insecure guy guards his bestest (crush) girl –friend
You know the one that takes him shopping
And tells him secrets
That should be dropped in a volcano
– but regardless
He will never see the color of her *******
Unless she has him do her laundry
Jack Piatt Jan 2014
No snow days in the sunny states
But free bus rides to the other side
Climb, climb, climb …
The fruit is higher

Ignore the dead ones below
The pieces that dried up
Waiting to be picked

And what is picked besides guitars, noses and colorful roses?
Okay, so …  lots of things
But how they are picked – much more interesting!

An ocean full of notion
Notions to fill an ocean


I’d like to shower it out
Maybe hike a mountain and let loose a shout!


I don’t like leases

So Re- lease

Let go

No snow when the sun’s in town
No frowns when a smile’s around

Let’s take the underground and move it up a floor
I’m bored with being bored

You want to write a letter and mail it to space aliens with me?
Probably take a long *** time to get there
But, oh the look on their faces when they get it!

Worth the wait.

(c) 2014
Jack Piatt Dec 2013
Everything that falls inside the autumn canopy of my inner body
Fills the inside bottoms of my feet with dead leaves by the thousands
Falling as slow as a blade of grass grows all the way to my inner toes
Down where they’ll never be raked away
Just piling on till they reach my throat
Till one day I can’t speak
As I choke on all the emotions that have fell inside me
A renegade Fall
Starting early and going late
Slight the sun and hide from the snow
These leaves are now all I know
Filling me up till I’m full of tree parts
Now chop me down
So I may finally rest
(c) 2013
Jack Piatt Oct 2013
The wind reminds me of her timeless touch
Memories of roads traveled with heavy heart
Always the pull from an unknown source
Calling me out to uncharted waters
As the familiar fades like a sun baked tear
My spirits take flight on a late summer charge
Bursting into the unknown as if a bull tired of antiquities
A new adventure whispers to me
Across the mighty Mississippi
I catch my breath, knowing this is kismet
All roads have led to this one road
This bridge to a new chapter
Full of the freedom of choice
The freeing notion of doing something
For sheer love
Finding passion growing out of cracks in walls
No moment unnoticed
The world is alive and wants to live!
As I want to live with it and embrace every atom
Every heartbeat tapping and pounding
Like a homeless drummer’s bucket in Pioneer’s Square
I’m everywhere
For a few fleeting seconds of time
Then back to this harp-shaped bridge
To meet new eyes, and hear stories from old souls
To create something collectively
Leaving our painted tattoos etched inside one another
And our mark on the wall of the world
(c) August 26, 2013
Jack Piatt Jul 2013
I don’t have the kind of time
It takes to iron out the blanket
Covering the world
Captured inside this tenuous dream
The light slides through too easily
As the sun does to a white summer dress
That’s been weakened
By too many turns in the dryer
Trying to discover you
Is parallel to discovering
The soft side of a rabid bear
That’s lost its taste for honey
The world sighs deeply
From time to time
If you take the time
To lay your ear on its chest
Feel it coughing inside
Like a skeleton water slide
If only you knew
The world has the oldest
(Largest) broken heart
Ever recorded in the measurable universe
It cries backwards
Outside in
Yeah, you guessed it …
The rain
Nothing but liquid pain
Being coughed out as clouds
Then pulled back in
By the gravity of aching
Pulsating at the core
A myopic glare back at the stars
Tip toeing around up there
Trying not to wake the broken one below
If only they had known
There is no sleep
For the truly burdened of heart
Only daydreaming
*(even at night)
(c) July 2013
Jack Piatt Jul 2013
Is a colorless flower
If I am to use it
Describing you
The wordsmiths
Must work well
Into the night
Smithing away
Until morning light
To find a word
Suiting your definition

Is a waterless brook
If used to convey the look
Radiating from your enchanting eyes
The same that left my heart wounded today
When you used them to drill to the core of me
No doubt making a profound discovery

Is overused and clichéd to ruin
Much too pedestrian to capture what you found
When drilling deep into my underground
Without a sound it happened
That word we can’t use
Due to its short and burnt up fuse
Turned on its light this afternoon
And in a magic moment we both knew

That beautiful, unearthing, love
Built a bridge between us
Founded in truth
Always open and fireproof

Today around 2 o’clock
(c) June 8th, 2013
(Tonight around 10 o'clock)
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