#burroughs - Hello Poetry

don’t be jealous (for a poet, for all poets) ~with gratitude, this one for Verlie Burroughs, verily, whosoever she may be~ the poem titles arrive in banana bunches, grape clusters asking to be mouthed, tasted, break their skin, juices dribbling on taste buds, sometimes the title + poem fully formed, arrive on the same plane, that’s a first class ticket to a poetry symposium somewhere near the se(a)e. like a fresh pack of cellophane encased cigarettes, poems just begging ‘smoke me, **** me, broke me yoke, the one that enchains, my soul-me,” the nurse pronounces a new born weighing 7lbs., 6 ounces, pouncing, bouncing; first cries a-writing, the title in the fluid, on the floor, don’t slip, the heavy poundage and the body a first poem, a flighty aerie of a few ounces that floats groundward like flavored colored leaves in the fall, a bird’s feathers summer molting, swapping old notions for new poem~potions, tips and sips of Whitman, after Billy. Collins, **** the spillage and... don’t be jealous, it’s a curse, when they silent labor breach birth, even pre-named, falling from brain to mouth, mouth to fingertips, Ipad to ethernet cable, through brick walls they fly, cause you can’t hold them and, type them down fast enough...

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Jul 4, 2020

Jul 4, 2020 at 2:02 PM UTC

nat-lipstadt

Verily, don’t be jealous (for a poet)

don’t be jealous (for a poet, for all poets) ~with gratitude, this one for Verlie Burroughs, verily, whosoever she may be~ the poem titles arrive in banana bunches, grape clusters asking to be mouthed, tasted, break their skin, juices dribbling on taste buds, sometimes the title + poem fully formed, arrive on the same plane, that’s a first class ticket to a poetry symposium somewhere near the se(a)e. like a fresh pack of cellophane encased cigarettes, poems just begging ‘smoke me, **** me, broke me yoke, the one that enchains, my soul-me,” the nurse pronounces a new born weighing 7lbs., 6 ounces, pouncing, bouncing; first cries a-writing, the title in the fluid, on the floor, don’t slip, the heavy poundage and the body a first poem, a flighty aerie of a few ounces that floats groundward like flavored colored leaves in the fall, a bird’s feathers summer molting, swapping old notions for new poem~potions, tips and sips of Whitman, after Billy. Collins, **** the spillage and... don’t be jealous, it’s a curse, when they silent labor breach birth, even pre-named, falling from brain to mouth, mouth to fingertips, Ipad to ethernet cable, through brick walls they fly, cause you can’t hold them and, type them down fast enough...

27

Long arm gendarme My mistake namaste Backpack bivouac On the Road with Kerouac Brilliant stars, silent nights Fireflies, Northern Lights Mountain streams, fresh air Fall asleep anywhere Small town, take a chance Pig roast, barn dance Allemande left! Do-si-do! Spontaneity here we go! Long arm gendarme My mistake namaste Backpack bivouac On the Road with Kerouac Beat Zen's hey-day Doing things our own way Nonconformity, anything goes Kerouac-Ginsburg-Burroughs Shot to pieces, picking skin Benzedrine, adrenaline Don't forget the Phenergan Notify our next of kin Long arm gendarme My mistake namaste Backpack bivouac On the Road with Kerouac

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Oct 19, 2019

Oct 19, 2019 at 12:11 PM UTC

poetry2go

Beat Generation

Long arm gendarme My mistake namaste Backpack bivouac On the Road with Kerouac Brilliant stars, silent nights Fireflies, Northern Lights Mountain streams, fresh air Fall asleep anywhere Small town, take a chance Pig roast, barn dance Allemande left! Do-si-do! Spontaneity here we go! Long arm gendarme My mistake namaste Backpack bivouac On the Road with Kerouac Beat Zen's hey-day Doing things our own way Nonconformity, anything goes Kerouac-Ginsburg-Burroughs Shot to pieces, picking skin Benzedrine, adrenaline Don't forget the Phenergan Notify our next of kin Long arm gendarme My mistake namaste Backpack bivouac On the Road with Kerouac

28

Ragged claws scuttling across the room The muttering retreats of restless noon Bracelet white and sprinkled streets As if in a magic floor of silent seas Fog that rubs its back upon a pillow Among the porcelain some to follow Like the solar apex of the sun Before the taking my greatest flicker Crisis though I have coat and snicker The sunset and door yard so presume With cheap hotels and sawdust perfume Streets that follow time to ****** And time yet tired of market order Like the solar apex of the sun Would the dead come back to tell With spit out restaurant oyster shells My necktie taken from the eternal prophet Hands that lift and and modest pockets I have the dying beneath the terrace Sleeps so peacefully without this marriage Like the solar apex of the sun

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Jun 21, 2018

Jun 21, 2018 at 1:41 PM UTC

Steelyvibe

Solar Apex of the Sun

Ragged claws scuttling across the room The muttering retreats of restless noon Bracelet white and sprinkled streets As if in a magic floor of silent seas Fog that rubs its back upon a pillow Among the porcelain some to follow Like the solar apex of the sun Before the taking my greatest flicker Crisis though I have coat and snicker The sunset and door yard so presume With cheap hotels and sawdust perfume Streets that follow time to ****** And time yet tired of market order Like the solar apex of the sun Would the dead come back to tell With spit out restaurant oyster shells My necktie taken from the eternal prophet Hands that lift and and modest pockets I have the dying beneath the terrace Sleeps so peacefully without this marriage Like the solar apex of the sun

21

The sprawling corporate tool, the false pretense destroys the inner sanctity. In his own personal palace crumbling with the rest of it. Not good enough. Slicked back afraid no one can comprehend the magnitude and pure scale of ból. Incessant staring, incessant staring, incessant staring. In the name of god, gravity over death, nothing is sacred, everything is broken. I am broken, for he is broken. Torn apart. Almost dead. Worth is less. No one can comprehend the magnitude and pure scale of verletzt. Stranded by the wrists, hanging. Dwindling. Imagine a man with his wrists attached to a ceiling fan, with cement shoes. Activating the ceiling fan is despicable and abhorrent, but the beauty shines through. Beauty knows no pain. Beauty covers the pain of the moment. Encompass Dancing Shiva through and through, Dancing Shiva is guidance. Encephalic dissociation at the route. What the hell is wrong. Omit me. Chasing the glorification, what he wants is not healthy he knows. Self gratification taking a non existent approach. Back seat. Take the back ******* seat. It’s for others. Its all for ******* others. He is broken where it is impossible to fix. Supplement a camera, feed the anxiety and take away the comfort. Supplement the ******* camera, take away the innocence. ADD THE INNOCENCE. Where is this where am I. What am I. How am I. Incoherent rambling to focus on a main theme. Incoherent rambling to focus on a main theme? Provide reason for disinterest; the enormous mouth roaring into his ear, roaring, flaring, decomposing any sense of worth. It’s alright. Raskolnikov would be jealous of his malcontentedness.

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Feb 11, 2018

Feb 11, 2018 at 2:29 PM UTC

ianh

Ceiling Fan, Cement Shoes.

The sprawling corporate tool, the false pretense destroys the inner sanctity. In his own personal palace crumbling with the rest of it. Not good enough. Slicked back afraid no one can comprehend the magnitude and pure scale of ból. Incessant staring, incessant staring, incessant staring. In the name of god, gravity over death, nothing is sacred, everything is broken. I am broken, for he is broken. Torn apart. Almost dead. Worth is less. No one can comprehend the magnitude and pure scale of verletzt. Stranded by the wrists, hanging. Dwindling. Imagine a man with his wrists attached to a ceiling fan, with cement shoes. Activating the ceiling fan is despicable and abhorrent, but the beauty shines through. Beauty knows no pain. Beauty covers the pain of the moment. Encompass Dancing Shiva through and through, Dancing Shiva is guidance. Encephalic dissociation at the route. What the hell is wrong. Omit me. Chasing the glorification, what he wants is not healthy he knows. Self gratification taking a non existent approach. Back seat. Take the back ******* seat. It’s for others. Its all for ******* others. He is broken where it is impossible to fix. Supplement a camera, feed the anxiety and take away the comfort. Supplement the ******* camera, take away the innocence. ADD THE INNOCENCE. Where is this where am I. What am I. How am I. Incoherent rambling to focus on a main theme. Incoherent rambling to focus on a main theme? Provide reason for disinterest; the enormous mouth roaring into his ear, roaring, flaring, decomposing any sense of worth. It’s alright. Raskolnikov would be jealous of his malcontentedness.

1

a shill dusk sky lively by night ere the dawn and fraught a wisp but mellow here his bulge really bare him angular stork with frost will quickly freeze his whir again

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Dec 20, 2017

Dec 20, 2017 at 6:13 PM UTC

poetman

a snipe

a shill dusk sky lively by night ere the dawn and fraught a wisp but mellow here his bulge really bare him angular stork with frost will quickly freeze his whir again

16

William ... we need you now, come on back, soft-shoe-shuffle on back, mordantly wander on back, undertaker-drag on back, comment on the conventions, acidly notice things, flagrantly ... destroy things, whilst muttering mutations, just plain cut-the-rug right out from under, the creationists, the snake-handlers, the ******** religionists, the paranoid drug czars, the oh so ignorant blonde talking heads, that son of a ***** Zimmerman, The war is still being fought, and Uncle Bill ... We need you!

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Mar 28, 2017

Mar 28, 2017 at 1:24 PM UTC

martin-bailes

William Burroughs ... come on back.

William ... we need you now, come on back, soft-shoe-shuffle on back, mordantly wander on back, undertaker-drag on back, comment on the conventions, acidly notice things, flagrantly ... destroy things, whilst muttering mutations, just plain cut-the-rug right out from under, the creationists, the snake-handlers, the ******** religionists, the paranoid drug czars, the oh so ignorant blonde talking heads, that son of a ***** Zimmerman, The war is still being fought, and Uncle Bill ... We need you!

27

mushrooms to the finger dance throw **** in the street and change locks....happy 1öö you old **** im just a vagabond searching for a sweetheart at sears

0

Jun 1, 2015

Jun 1, 2015 at 7:47 PM UTC

CMD

feb 5th, 1914

mushrooms to the finger dance throw **** in the street and change locks....happy 1öö you old **** im just a vagabond searching for a sweetheart at sears

4

Curious be as remembered be I, a fellow And oh what a way to go Flag frozen feet surrendered as the Maine Lobster in culinary throes hard-on steeped, Word steamed Virus glasses spread across lap

0

Mar 31, 2015

Mar 31, 2015 at 2:06 AM UTC

paul-sands

Red With Bill

Curious be as remembered be I, a fellow And oh what a way to go Flag frozen feet surrendered as the Maine Lobster in culinary throes hard-on steeped, Word steamed Virus glasses spread across lap

7

Hop hopeless off the L searching for hell "works" "works" "subs" "subs" "Bars" "Bars" "Xanny Bars" The Avenue Chant Howl the diseased infected addicted **** The Avenue Chant an open drug bazaar is a beautiful thing for one playing the beautiful ***** Requiem for a Nightmare You ask what I need knowing what I want Hop down the corner You know the best spot they got the fire I got a house to burn You ask, can I get one? I think in first person with a laugh perhaps I would give you a leg for one I see you could use it We keep walking you keep limp, limp, limping down.... Cambria Crutches clacking off the littered decaying pavement The boys are out in town (when aren't they) the block is hot (as always) I wait around the corner You do my ***** business Our ***** business Everyones ***** business You swing back, deed done, dirt in hand awwww yeahhhhh the stamp is cobra I remember this **** mm. this **** is good The printed snake swims up and out siphoned from a tiny baby blue bag cleansing all insecurities, all fear, all humanity. We limp along You tell me how you ended up on these streets wife kicked you out, job fired you, veterans insurance cut you. The American dream as it looks, on Kensington streets, circa2013 etc. etc. etc I feel bad, but, not really, emotional skeleton, Numbed. I leave you with some rocks, not much, then go off kicking rocks all the way Redrocks H>O<W long can I continue without being caught in crosstalk. A skinny white privileged boy from the suburbs seeing his future trotting away before his eyes The everlasting haunting crouching limping creature of death A rotten old one legged ......junk Y

0

May 9, 2014

May 9, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC

caligulas-exit

one legged *****

Hop hopeless off the L searching for hell "works" "works" "subs" "subs" "Bars" "Bars" "Xanny Bars" The Avenue Chant Howl the diseased infected addicted **** The Avenue Chant an open drug bazaar is a beautiful thing for one playing the beautiful ***** Requiem for a Nightmare You ask what I need knowing what I want Hop down the corner You know the best spot they got the fire I got a house to burn You ask, can I get one? I think in first person with a laugh perhaps I would give you a leg for one I see you could use it We keep walking you keep limp, limp, limping down.... Cambria Crutches clacking off the littered decaying pavement The boys are out in town (when aren't they) the block is hot (as always) I wait around the corner You do my ***** business Our ***** business Everyones ***** business You swing back, deed done, dirt in hand awwww yeahhhhh the stamp is cobra I remember this **** mm. this **** is good The printed snake swims up and out siphoned from a tiny baby blue bag cleansing all insecurities, all fear, all humanity. We limp along You tell me how you ended up on these streets wife kicked you out, job fired you, veterans insurance cut you. The American dream as it looks, on Kensington streets, circa2013 etc. etc. etc I feel bad, but, not really, emotional skeleton, Numbed. I leave you with some rocks, not much, then go off kicking rocks all the way Redrocks H>O<W long can I continue without being caught in crosstalk. A skinny white privileged boy from the suburbs seeing his future trotting away before his eyes The everlasting haunting crouching limping creature of death A rotten old one legged ......junk Y

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