"allis" poems
I can’t wait to be a hundred;
turning over the thoughts
and plots, of Caledon
floating on Zimmer inserts
and dusted Florsheims
three steps forward
in a dream woven
summer afternoon
Through the barn doors
and bee keeper flats
assimilating voices
from Sachems
and Forbes
and Hope Healers
coming and going
as the countryman
comes and goes
You can feel it
in a place like this
the 3 in the tree memories
of Allis Chalmers
and combine parts
of Sundrim poppers
and shallow carp fields
of patterned lawsons
and fading caulk
(on the ripped and rolled
frontier seats)
it’s a wishing well
for the peddler
and bold hydrangea...
both peeking their way
through the rusted
grinders wheel
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 11:55 PM UTC
The old farmer hung back,
as rickety and battered as the
‘50s Allis-Chalmers tractor upon
which he leaned, hunched,
clung, as if the auctioneer's words
and the wind might carry him off
like the implements he'd treasured
much of his life, machines with
which he had toiled and sweated
and which had helped him chisel
out a meager existence in his
40 years on the farm. His wife was
dead now, his children scattered
like the clucking chickens and hissing
geese, all he had left were memories
and the old homestead, and it was
leaving him bit by bit on the backs
of creaking pickups and low boys
and stuffed into the cavities of shiny
new Cadillacs and Buicks. The cruel
wind had driven in from the southwest,
stealing a little more topsoil from the
threadbare farm, swirling and *******
at tattered curtains still hanging in
the mouths of grimy windows left ajar.
With each piece of his life leaving
down that gravel road, a draining
of his dreams and energies followed.
A few more raps of the gavel and he
too would be as dust in the wind.
--
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 9:39 PM UTC
Maybe I'll call it polisatire. Maybe I'll call it Satpolire. Satoplire.
Let's go people... nothing to see here but a big old fat ******* Satoplire...
coughs
coughs vigorously
shakes
is naked
just wasn't naked
but now is
Satoplire
#Hilldabeast2016
#Hilldabeast
Hillary Clinton scares me.
I think she's capable of producing some dark days...
We had the black guy... now we're going to get the woman.
What's next... An Octopus?
*are you offended because I didn't say black woman or Mexican and instead went all the way down the line to octopus? Come on... You'd be offended if I said anything regarding race or *** there... that is... if you're a little *****
I'm done.
This ain't a poem... more of a stream of my ****** up consciousness on
Lots of drugs and Lots of Nosleep.
*kids... don't go askin' around for that new **** called Nosleep...
I just mean I haven't slept in a few days is all.*
**Note to self: start putting ajax and powdered ***** in capsules and market it as Nosleep**
More Notes: Go on a road trip to Brooklyn with one of the kids you got hooked on Nosleeps and refuse them Nosleep the entire way there. They'll be too young to get it because it's a lot easier to sell fake drugs to miners.
*Notes on Notes: I think he meant I should market to minors... not miners. Spent the day last day down in the ***** coal mines of West Allis and boy oh boy.... did they ever find fury down there with which to beat my *** when I tried to sell them Nosleep. Do not sell to miners*
**Don't sell to minors either. Jail is not the place you want to be. At least not in Milwaukee county. I'm a white boy with soft skin and the prisons here are like., well., let's just say I'd be the ******** on the black sheets**
dude you can't use the word black in a metaphor if you're using it to describe black people
oops...
**** it*
#fuckit
((literallyfuckit))
k
what was it?
You know.
No I don't
;)
;)
;) ;) ;) ;)
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
miners get awfully lonely down there
;)
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 5:44 AM UTC
Take me out
onto the roller rink,
where, under the neon disco ball, everything turns
pink and hazy
Make me out
to be your in-line princess,
your ribbon-bred baby
Spin me 'round and 'round
drivin' me crazy crazy crazy
Bring me to my knees
sorry, you whispered to me
"oopsie-daisy"
Drop me to the floor
my crustacean legs
fold crooked underneath me like a crab
i skip back onto the tips of my toes
i cover up quick like a lady
Still, I wait patiently for more
Still, spinning under these hazy neon lights
looking for someone new again,
looking for somewhere else to score.
Dec 24, 2023
Dec 24, 2023 at 11:18 PM UTC
All is bold
All is grey
Life through the eyes
Of a person such as me
Is dull
And boring
All I see is grey
All I see is dull
A world without love
A world without care
Is my life every day
All is bold
Allis grey
A world I know too long
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 2:51 PM UTC
If I can say a word
or two to you under the sun
wait, o gorgeous butterfly.
Up in the high is blue sky
allis clear on your way
but one has lost the eye.
It happened last night
not in the dark
but down the full Moon
above a glowing firefly.
Every star was eying down
there was light on the ground.
So charming was the hairy dark
wrapped around a flame of light
burning, waving, raising high
a pair of silent closed lips
that besides the passionate sky
had the earth too hooked by.
Up and down was enticed
musing on the magic
what did it swallow down!
Will you blame me then
if at the first sight
of it lose my eye?
Dec 24, 2019
Dec 24, 2019 at 2:16 PM UTC