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I can remember starving in a
small room in a strange city
shades pulled down, listening to
classical music
I was young I was so young it hurt like a knife
inside
because there was no alternative except to hide as long
as possible--
not in self-pity but with dismay at my limited chance:
trying to connect.

the old composers -- Mozart, Bach, Beethoven,
Brahms were the only ones who spoke to me and
they were dead.

finally, starved and beaten, I had to go into
the streets to be interviewed for low-paying and
monotonous
jobs
by strange men behind desks
men without eyes men without faces
who would take away my hours
break them
**** on them.

now I work for the editors the readers the
critics

but still hang around and drink with
Mozart, Bach, Brahms and the
Bee
some buddies
some men
sometimes all we need to be able to continue alone
are the dead
rattling the walls
that close us in.
Nicholas Kurtz Nov 2017
Preacher man, on the TV screen
Gives comforting words to the elderly
And Mrs. Robinson
Gladly gives her pocket book
Seems that jesus
Did not even have the time to call her

And the atheist, preaches reason
To all the lame, broke fools
Who can't understand them
And I sit here
Face in mug of beer
Because mom's sick
And dad's weak in the knees
Trying to save her

Can we stop?
Can we stop?
Because we are all the same
When the hammer drops
Can we stop?
Can we stop?
We all feel the hurt when that hammer drops.
Work in progress
Intellectual property of Nicholas Kurtz
14 November 2017
Nicholas Kurtz Apr 2016
I believe that if you want to see justice
Look at the streets
Look at the walls
Hear the crys of the voiceless
Head the voice of the broken
Heal those so bold

On the streets
If someone fights you *****
You may teach them a quick lesson
But if you're a man
You walk away

I believe
America
I love you
America

It's time to walk away.
My two cents. Take it. Or.
Leave it build
Rebuild rebuild rebuild!
Nicholas Kurtz Apr 2016
My house is beautiful
I think
Sorry
Our house is beautiful
Wait
Our apartment is beautiful
And I am
Not Sure
I am Not Sure
Nicholas Kurtz Dec 2015
We paint our lives on color film
Absorbing familiar reflection
And we watch as we live
So little in color film
We love, we ****
We bleed, we die
Do we think God is watching?

Do we think we are the reflection
Why are we watching?
Mountain sides and Lilly beds
Prairies and the mighty ocean
Now held in our hands
Nobody is there
Is anyone here
What is everyone watching?

Loneliness painted in window sills
Plasma radiation gleams on
White, pictureless walls
Millions

Watching sunsets
And passions flame
Lust pervert
Warm golden skin
Radiates tangerine
And the lonely feel
Vicarity
Painting red
On Blank slates
And fill with vacant desire

Million of on lookers
Alone, watching

Watching the world burn
Watching mothers cry
Watching beaches sludge
Watching deserts snow
Watching brave children die
Watching brothers betray
Watching love fail
Watching countries fall
Watching debts paid

Millions of miles of tapes and bits
Project a millions of protestant cries
Endlessly, eternally
Do we think God is watching?

Do we think?
While we're watching
Bathing in radiation
Children don't know how to read
Live their lives on
A television screen
A whole generation
Living vicariously
Do we think?

Millions of gray souls
And avid voters
Watch angry men spout nostalgic redirect
Watch their children live their lives
Watch game shows and advertisements
Watch the six o' clock news
Watch police shoot children in the street

A million beautiful, lonely people
Watch red carpet vanity
Watch million dollar celebrity parties
Watch the American dream lash the
Backs of the fuedal and disenfranchised
Watch depraved souls sacrifice self
For the company of fame

Meanwhile children don't read

Do we think?
A thought original
Is there any thing left to believe
Everyone so sure there's nothing they haven't seen
Nobody leaves their house
Nobody can bear to read
Just watch the world slip into insanity

Ignorance is the greatest weapon
Yet all I see is guns blazing
80 billion dollars to dry the desert
Not a one for education

American families gather
Around their TV screens
They can't stop watching
They're afraid of what they see
Do they think God is watching?


I hope God isn't watching
Nicholas Kurtz Dec 2015
I love how you drink wine with me
And we dance like freaks
And you proceed to throw my glass
Across the floor
And follow with a million apologies
I chuckle "it's fine dear"
And I smile like a love drunk idiot
I love how you fight it
But our love still grows every day
And I still have a million moments
To prove true, day by day
I love how we argue passionately
And you raise your voice
And your face flickers with expression
And twenty minutes later
We are wispering promises
In eachother's ears
I love how you act so impressed
My car makes it to Cleveland
When I would drive to Arizona
In all its misery
For just one kiss from you
I love how your eyes sparkle
And take the breath out of me
And
I love how excitable you are
You get loud
And you think
My manic, sunny, nihilist humor
Is funny
I love how you drive like a bull
But love like the sun
And cut darkness like the moon
I love how you communicate
With soul
In a souless plasma, diamond
Window World
I love how you try
To understand me
In all my insanity
And you do a **** good job
Baby your crazy
I love how you laugh so heartely
My constant ornry observations
My obnoxious
impressions of Sinatra
Or My utter lack of discretion and shame
Like when I throw cookies off the shelf in
Grocery stores just to throw a fit
I love how you hear song lyrics
And sing interrupting intense
Conversations
I love that when I take you home
You say goodbye to me
It takes an hour
Then you ask me to tuck you in
I love your endless strength
And that you've been through hell
But stand a strong, pure woman
I love your voice
Like cleaning rain
And your arms that hold peace
Like ocean currents and bay views

Amanda, I love everything about you
And I'll cherish
Every single memory
And every day I'm with you
You knew it was a love poem
Nicholas Kurtz Nov 2015
I don't know if this is poetry
This is a wounded cry
This life of mine
Lately, is a bad dream
I tread lightly in the pools of insanity
I can't forget that ******* fortune cookie

It was our first date, and lovely at that
I haven't taken a lady out
Since Before there was hair on my chest

It's nice to be wanted
Away from lights
And one nights
On stages and bar corners
Subways and cafes
Anywhere my heart sings
Just makes the clown
Ever so similar to me

But that ******* fortune cookie
Curse if I remember what it said
Mine advised beginnings are the start of much labor
And hers urging to explore her options

I laughed and shrugged
And secretely cursed not choosing
Indian

Meanwhile, in neon lights
I drown another night
She says I'm way to serious about
An open mic
Somehow I always forget to go home
All my friends give me stupid advice
Hallmark lines, and hollow tripe
I love them the same
I think they have no understanding
I'm happier bordering reality
I tread lightly in the pools of insanity
After bad dreams
Its a defense mechanism
Don't judge me
Nightmare
She's sitting there
Looking so fine
Those lips I remember I kissed
Now pout and direct glare
From once loving, hazel eyes
And I ask for a stiff ***
And sit next to her

In retrospect I was my dumbest true self
I said
Why have you been ignoring my messages
Her offended look was enough to send
My heart to my stomach
The words that follow brief
I ask if we can speak alone
I have to know why
You want nothing to do with me
I held you so close
You promised me dear
Now
Not even a friend
The sweetest ones always go
I feel like garbage
I feel like an old music box
That should have never been released
From the attic

I feel like a typewriter dormant
And hollow, choking dust of 1955

Let me play then throw me away
Not even a friend to me
I got old
My one song
Now looked at in vain

I held you so dear
You promised me so sweetly
You kissed me with fire
You promised me
Not even a friend now
Not even a friend to me
Goodbye..
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