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sb-stokesPoems
1 When you extend time changes into words reaches toward common history Inspect your saga motivations for doing anything inflating bike tires handstands on the grass riding the night train home scrawling a drunken note 2 surprise registry sorrow spreading like dank fire under the skin of your face the piano calls "rattle columbo skee-dazzle" now wave them around hypnotic and sincere you must believe in the something I'm transmitting up the live wires into a collective hive or down by the rustling dumpsters 3 cast off shells spent nutrition and supplements inform a blood ooze "I can't, I just can't" gurgling on a blanket of blood one arm waving half a pincher bug electricity still making it happen another loop of living purely motion driven without purpose the body stays and stays 4 the mind burns and slips another dark portal born voyager bon voyage-r out of cleaner hands rough with hairy splinters combine powers find a way off this rock 5 vortex of hand-woven sediment chambray and needlepoint tiny backstitched leaves, flowers sang a little song while he did it: "Ol' brown poesy, something something Alabama" "Shut up, Kid!" waving, eyes wilder his blood comes out more and more glistening cough thick bubbles of dark 6 paint the hard stroke his pained face get back from it, step out of his way his oncoming fate panic burned streets camps springing up fingerfuls of air "I just can't, I can't" a weak wave, he lays back down other words too far from the surface he waves 7 his hands tremble spent impulses so natural the soul slips gears burn out the metal whines and snaps the straps are off and he is gone rabbit's foot bound now a blur in cosmic space flashing toward a diamond planet inference of his purpose light-years for comprehension
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Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 1:15 AM UTC
Almost Like Science Fiction (For B.T.S.)
1 When you extend time changes into words reaches toward common history Inspect your saga motivations for doing anything inflating bike tires handstands on the grass riding the night train home scrawling a drunken note 2 surprise registry sorrow spreading like dank fire under the skin of your face the piano calls "rattle columbo skee-dazzle" now wave them around hypnotic and sincere you must believe in the something I'm transmitting up the live wires into a collective hive or down by the rustling dumpsters 3 cast off shells spent nutrition and supplements inform a blood ooze "I can't, I just can't" gurgling on a blanket of blood one arm waving half a pincher bug electricity still making it happen another loop of living purely motion driven without purpose the body stays and stays 4 the mind burns and slips another dark portal born voyager bon voyage-r out of cleaner hands rough with hairy splinters combine powers find a way off this rock 5 vortex of hand-woven sediment chambray and needlepoint tiny backstitched leaves, flowers sang a little song while he did it: "Ol' brown poesy, something something Alabama" "Shut up, Kid!" waving, eyes wilder his blood comes out more and more glistening cough thick bubbles of dark 6 paint the hard stroke his pained face get back from it, step out of his way his oncoming fate panic burned streets camps springing up fingerfuls of air "I just can't, I can't" a weak wave, he lays back down other words too far from the surface he waves 7 his hands tremble spent impulses so natural the soul slips gears burn out the metal whines and snaps the straps are off and he is gone rabbit's foot bound now a blur in cosmic space flashing toward a diamond planet inference of his purpose light-years for comprehension
From the book A History of Broken Love Things, Punk Hostage Press (2014).
sb-stokes
Written by
sb-stokes
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 1:15 AM UTC
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