"applebee" poems
"Applebee" was your name for me, the old one
gone away with the old me.
She stood there, waving to all new lovers.
Never belonged with the times, so unlike a standing tree.
She had no story to tell and was spinning .
An unripe apple, green and hard,
forever to stay hidden under 100 years.
With the appearance of seasoned hands, I
softened; you'd always be there.
You'd say, "Applebee"
I'd say "Willow, willow, willow..."
to reply, to show how I knew I'd slip into a game I'd lose.
Don't hear me, because I feel that we are prehistoric, waiting for our Mother to take us back.
I know we'll never stop, there will be more times like ours.
But I also know we are done whenever we begin.
Gods are forgotten in another hundred years,
but you alone , are different.
You
were just an immortal, neither holy, nor sinner
creature for a angel,
Oak and green pine for a willow,
An elder for a lover,
A beautiful and miserable secret kept between a generational pair
like us.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 2:18 AM UTC
Multiples Personalities
I’ll defeat you, I said
I have study your every moves
You clustered my inside, like the garbage bin
Gasping for air, I struggle
It snow. I wore a tee shirt
No boots though. I took the train
Trouble follows me
Outrageous! I screamed
Split personalities; Alters assembled
At court street, Nevins and Applebee
Each taking turns maneuvering in the cold breeze
I fought with all my might. I headed to the voodoo priest
Gibberish sounds he offered.
However, not for too long
With some great effort
Conquering we fought the beasts
Depression you lose; we won.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
I Stanislavski my way through life
I am and I am not
a piece of *****
I put myself in situations
scenarios racing through my head
and try to imagine
exactly what it would feel like
to be dead
Experiencing
my inner theatrical sense of self
dynamism;
the activeness of an energetic personality
how sad to know
that this is not
nor will it ever be my faculty
"Hi my names Suzan, I work at Applebee's."
Feb 13, 2021
Feb 13, 2021 at 1:27 PM UTC
Multiples Personalities
I’ll defeat you, I said
I have study your every moves
You clustered my inside,
Gasping for air, I struggled
It snow, I wore a tee shirt
No boots though, I took the train
Trouble follows me
Outrageous! I scream
Split personalities, alters assembled
At court street, Nevins and Applebee
Each taking turns to maneuvers in the cold breeze
I fought with all my might,
then headed to the voodoo priest
Gibberish sounds he offered
However, not for too long
With some great effort
Conquering we fought the beast
Depression you lose; we won.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 9:38 AM UTC
after earning their first grammy, Eddie
Vedder stood with the other guys
in
Pearl Jam and said "I don't know what
this means or what I'm doing here."
how
do we put a grade on art? do we find
our
favorite poem and give it a smiley
face
sticker with an accolade like "good
goin!"?
do we single out a Mattisse sculpture,
give
it a round of applause and an Applebee's
gift card?
I don't have a grade for the
things
I love. that takes the fun out of loving
them.
I'll listen to your song. I'll play it
again.
I won't give it any stars but I'll give
it
all my attention.
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
I
A scream scares the day away and makes the night a dark eternity.
Mating calls lurching behind barstools talking about nothing and jumping deeper into conversation over the bovine carcass at Applebee's.
Desolate honkytonks fueled by Percocet and chlamydia, fat musicians and anthems of Beer drunkenness hanging over the toilet to ***** their soul away for a buzz.
Coal diggers and gold diggers painted in black and red and the pinks drips down their leg to a puddle of shame. Crying in the corner for a fix with their broken knees and backs and their black lungs and their pharmacies of solutions that end up being their prison. Poisoning the air with the smoke of death and masculinity with broken hands punching the walls until the blood pours.
The **** of the body and land in unison in mind, flutters from our corner of the world to the coast
then to the heavens where it again rapes. Where it forces itself upon the consciousness of a nation
That buys it up and sells it again for naut. Souls of the lost gather for your final baptism in pain, together,
Ready and willing for more.
Trailers like tombstones in the distance at the end of hollers buried beside their dignity in the mines. Eternal monuments to good enough sprouting from every seed wasted in the divine Goddess who is reduced to the ***** of Hazard and surrounding counties.
Repeat the cycle of suffering.
Churches of skeletons praying for that divine **** of death,
reap what ye sew,
Harvest of the men in plenty,
eat for your fill!
II
It has been a cold winter, and I have traveled to the land of my heroes, who live now only on the page and in spirit alike. I have bussed cross nation, gone to Boulder and Denver and dear Allen Ginsberg I found out the time. I search for the street where I can find you, curl up in your beard, hear your stories, and hitchhike with you to Nirvana. I have snowshoed high and happy with friends and have no regrets only that I didn't stay longer. Played music on the top of mountains and felt them dance under me. I have been reborn with life and friends and it is good enough. Dislocated souls connecting in the ephemeral plane somewhere between Kentucky and Colorado in dreams and though and music and poetry and body and soul.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC
In the First Kingdom, you find the following... a wave and a cataract for swallowing
and shabby hats.
In the Second Kingdom, Jules Verne hates broccoli and the moon is made of lost keys.
In the Third Kingdom, God knows why you keep breathing while He holds His Breath.
In the Fourth Kingdom, there's nothing There.
In the Fifth Kingdom, Nothing comes after Four.
In the Sixth Kingdom, your hands have a score to settle with the Architect, but you have no hands.
In the Seventh Kingdom,you're naked all the time and every one makes love to you.
In the Eighth Kingdom, the Devil is a Nancy Lad with no agenda
and a distorted corona. And Applebee's are Orange-hornets, thank you very much.
And this poem haunts your spleen.
In the Ninth, you were there
but then
we lost
you at
the
Fair.
and that was sweet.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
A burning sadness
Crept up from within me
Like the cigarette you just finished
Its smoke engulfed me.
We had the usual date.
“For old times sake,” you said.
Dinner at Applebee’s
And a movie at 42nd.
Interstellar was on the plate
Our first heavy movie together.
It mushed our already tired brains
But like always, we analyzed it after.
Remember Valentine’s at Kip’s Bay?
We watched the Lego Movie.
At one point our combined laughter
Was all that echoed throughout the theater.
But we’ve also ridden a Central Park carousel,
And ate bibimbap at 35th.
You’ve felt at home on my couch
While I fell asleep on your tummy at Brooklyn Bridge Park.
I have these and more to take with me.
And when you hugged me goodbye tonight,
This scorching flame burned brighter,
As you whispered into my ear, “I’ll miss you.”
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 10:43 AM UTC
three
i admire daddy for shooting a big buck. i name the deer "sparky."
four
my favorite part about school is learning to read books all by myself.
six
i don't let mama pick out my clothes anymore. my favorite outfit is purple sweatpants with a red sweater.
seven
i got detention for spitting on a boy. i cried for weeks.
ten
my best friend in the world moved an hour away. at least i still have harry potter and despereaux to keep me company.
eleven
the boy who plays the lead in the musical is the cutest boy i've ever seen.
twelve
the boy who played the lead in the musical likes me back.
thirteen
i catch myself staring absently at walls often. i'm disgusted with my body. i haven't eaten in days. my chest always aches. i've lost most of my friends because they've grown annoyed with how much time i spend with a boy. i'm never happy unless i'm with him. he's my whole world.
fourteen
the boy who played the lead in the musical shattered me. i don't want to be alive. i keep leaning over the toilet trying to get rid of what's eating me from the inside out, but nothing ever comes up. he promises we will always be friends. i stay up late screaming every night.
fifteen
a boy pushed me up against the wall and kissed me. he's dated tons of girls, but he thinks i'm different. he likes to read and listen to music. he says i'm the best kisser. he distracts me from the pain, and i'm constantly afraid he's going to leave me without ever speaking a word to me again. i'm so afraid, i stop focusing in class. the boy who played the lead in the musical hasn't talked to me since he walked me to the school counselor a year ago.
sixteen
my big group of friends and i go to dinner at applebee's. i just got my driver's license and a black 1999 oldsmobile alero. i have a few people i can go to if i can't do it alone. i can pull myself back after a relapse. i don't depend my life on anyone but myself. i might just be a bit numb, but things haven't been this great in a long time.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
like
ribbed-knit fabric,
when we put the old ribbed La-Z-Boy out front, "FREE",
and whoever picked it up
has no idea my grandfather died in that chair.
like holding my knees in the hot tub,
quiet, wet, baking tiles,
a certain safety in a room with only women,
and crouching in the water like a boiling dumpling.
shortbread cookies in bed.
mac DeMarco on the way to the doctor's office,
my love for you is so real,
separating from my body in a goodwill,
curly-haired boys and impossibly beautiful girls in the movie theater bathroom,
whipped cream on her nose,
the golden lights of applebee's, and then
like it's all over again.
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 3:48 PM UTC
"She leaves at about two o'clock"
" whoops sorry"
"You think it's five?"
"You'll come home early?"
"I've got the info on my computer"
"I like paper"
"Slipped out somewhere"
"We could go at one forty"
"Cool"
"They pick up the trash as they walk along"
"Very much a servant"
"It is not up to me"
"I didn't ask that"
"Sometimes"
"You just have to make it yummy"
"No all the time"
"Yeah"
"I do try to limit myself, it hurts your teeth"
"I eat a lot of it"
"You would use it out at the graves"
"So she could eat that too"
"We won't drink it all"
"We need to stop by Sam's to pick up my cooler"
"That's the idea"
"They won't go out to dinner with us"
"I'd be happy to"
"There's an Applebee's there?"
"We should call and make a reservation"
"He's got a special place in his heart for Applebee's"
"I'm happy to take him."
The car ride
And I'm writing poetry
When they are the poets
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC