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matt r Dec 2024
people look so silly under the spell
of friday's grooving radio hum:
they trip and fall over miles of tiles
when gin tins leave their shoes untied;
its showtime under the ambergreen lights!

seven o'clock and motor breath
turns to head-seeking missiles, i duck
under a stop where frostbite seeks
to hide its fingers in my socks
"i'm not ready to end!"

"it hasn't yet begun!"
seven twenty and here's my bus!
a giant metal knight with wiper swords
and a two-door parting shield
... i check to see if my feet have healed

engines ruminate over their revolutions
and rumble and grumble on deaf ears
cautionary tales of last week's anteeks...
but not all roads lead to rome, fortunately,
some lead to queen's square

...at least my toes are warm now
matt r Dec 2024
a sharp-dressed woman
spilt the stars across the sky
(her dress had pockets)
matt r Dec 2024
pixels might flicker
to recreate a wavelength ~
but we felt the warmth
matt r Oct 2024
as the drumline spiels his deal,
his baseless accusations ring
the bell behind your eyes! sing!
mimic his air! your cacophonous snare
shouts like an astronaut on a space-walk

promise! never let the cold take hold
of your reptile brain; you're half unsaid!
why must you let the louder half spread
his legs in ecstasy? you deal in chastity!
who are you? some sci-fi *****?

you can't be saved from your retroflex grave,
so dare to live where no rhyme scheme toes
the line of cosmically acceptable prose
see? nothing matters!  - this jawless chatter
asks "who are you? some cerebral *****?"

"an ugly *****!!!" you might retort
but self-awareness does not absolve
the sins of online vanity; dissolve
me, untrue - drown in pixels green and blue
or wake up
                     in the nothingness
                                                     ­  of the space-walk
what a load of nonsense ey !!!
matt r Oct 2024
it's funny to imagine time as walking;
would he wear boots? naturale, perhaps?
would he get tired? bored? would he relapse
to the classic passtime of beat-step stalking
the second hand round the clock face?
think! a formless concept in real space...

so then, why would this "distance" matter?
i could wave my hand - open a portal
up between moments; our newly immortal
honeymoon periods served on a platter
well - why not? it's a trick; the reverse
of our father's relativity to our universe
a plath-esque attempt* at a flirty confession

*(one could only dream)
matt r Oct 2024
birds feast on daybreak
worms; threads of song borne from dirt
salvaged as dusk wind
matt r Oct 2024
seconds drag; their limbs
line the hallways while we sleep:
yesterday's awake
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