"clearance" poems
so you're disappointed
that you're disappointed
and maybe that's to be expected
some folks make beds
out of their catharsis
differently than others
it's this list
of things you lost in the fire
or how jealous you are
of people
who never came back up for air
you're crying
so the faucets leak out of solidarity
& someone asks you
why the floor is wet
so you tell them
"we've been weeping here forever"
then they want to give you
a mouth full of presupposition
by saying
"are you going down with the ship?"
& you look them in the mouth
like Leo is handcuffed to a pipe
five decks down
you look at them
like you just woke up
from that dream everyone has
where all their teeth fall out
maybe it's an intervention
a hearse vs station wagon origin story
a clearance sale
& everything's gotta go
or maybe it's the dream
where you're at the docks
from your childhood
and there's a little girl
unmooring all the ships
because she thinks
they'll float away
but every time
she unties them
they just sink
they just sink
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 5:20 PM UTC
It's like a diamond stake pushed through the silence of my brain
It's like a thunder of voices coming down like a hurricane
It's like a forest of gunfire blowing past my bedroom door
It's like the force of a god pushing down on my floor
Whip smart, by all accounts, but lost beneath the sheets
Forced out of a comfort zone and pushed out to the streets
Spastic changing voices like a record out of line
Just speak like you always do and don't **** with my mind
I'm like a tidal wave that only gets halfway there
No shore to erode with no Taiwan to even care
I'm like a promise left on the kitchen table after dawn
Someone will find it but it will be thrown out on the lawn
Born without a spoon but there is silver in my teeth
I'm made out of as much spirit as a plastic, clearance wreath
Dust beneath the stars cancels out the dawning sun
Shine on the bums, the prophets, everyone
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 3:38 PM UTC
Do you want a slice of cake,
might keep you going just for now.
But as you are not used to eating,
you have the hooves we'll keep the cow.
The modern world is dying younger,
unlike those in the poorer east.
Who die through lack of food and water,
we're dying because we're obese.
In this modern city arena,
it seems our portion is the more
free health and overwhelming safety
but we save that small slice for the poor.
The waste is massive, over burdened,
tons of food are chucked away.
As we stick to our sell by clearance
just think for what so many pray.
Do we need such a massive slice,
even half would fill our needs.
The west gets fat the east is wanting
scrubbing around for scraps and seeds.
So next time when feasting in McDonalds,
and washing down with large milkshake.
Try and see your own reflexion
and you'll see whom eats all the cake.
Before you leave that busy food-hall,
just have a quick look in the bin
and you will see the unholy waste,
perhaps you'll also see the sin.
The slicing of this planets cake
seems to be divided wrong.
So cut it into a fairer slices
and send it to where it belongs.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
Let’s come
And have a fun
With numbers
To strengthen your balance sheet!
Let’s count.......
‘How many Kilogram of Oxygen you inhale per day?’
‘How many litres of water and energy required
for the food you consume per day?
How much ..................? .......................
Let’s calculate....
“Multiply the already estimated amount
By the total days you already spend on this planet.”
How much .........? ..............................
Let’s assess the cost..........
“Multiply the amount of Oxygen, Water and Energy
with their respective present market price.”
How much.........? ..............................
Let’s incorporate everything in your balance sheet,
Repay it to nature and
get the tax clearance from the Planet .......
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC
Sept. 29th, 2014
Is combing and brushing your eyebrows in the morning.
It's leaning on the cold car window with earbuds
and as the last notes play, thinking
"Please don't make this a happy song
I don't deserve a happy song."
It's seeing ads for a clearance sale
plastered on a store that almost never is occupied
and seeming to just know that it's
it's subtle way of going out of business.
It's knowing and not believing.
It's breaking out in a cold sweat when you finish a book.
It's wishing I could go home
and lie on my carpet
and peel all my skin off
then crawl back inside
and maybe feel comfortable this time.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 5:35 PM UTC
Momentary
mourning peace.
Mama pours a glass of mulled wine,
lights a scented candle
(- "cherries on snow" -)
and drinks to ol' Joan.
Passed down with the jewellery box,
somewhere in the will, the daughters
receive the annual chore of roasting
the turkey (delicious!) and the veggies
(good job!) and (could you pass the?) breadsauce
for their brothers and husbands huddled
on a threadbare sofa -- and a younger girl,
barely there, staring at a laptop screen.
Mama's not festive - always too tired -
barely celebrates, but orchestrates.
Years barely there 'cause she's needed in their kitchen
and someone's gotta cook can she please get a hand? and
one chivalrous male puffs out his chest, takes one for the team, gestures to the girl with no discernible attention span and
half-laughs an "ay, one day this'll be you!
Best get in there while you're young!"
((A baritone chorus of laughter.))
"You outdid yourself on the turkey."
"S'great, ain't it? Pass the potatoes."
Sometimes here, sometimes Spain.
We stay over. It's tradition: we're
scattered across the country,
maid duties are the least she can do.
Never our kitchen or living room.
Tiny. Messy. Unwelcoming.
Come Boxing Day, Mama gives
a bear hug goodbye and an
"it's good to see you";
Because it is, she thinks.
Thank you for inviting me
to carry out your labour.
I'm just grateful to be needed.
A month of red 'SALE' tapes
scouring the clearance shelves;
overtime for extra cash
scraped to afford the food she cooks you;
paying half for gifts she'd brainstormed
while Dad buys partial credit on the gift tag.
We vanish from your house
- like elves -
by morning.
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 8:17 AM UTC
Dream
You chose to and you believed
Now look at your ship all wrecked
Yet somehow you're alive
The seas have been calm but still ruffle every now and then.
Though the ashes of my dreams still scatter everywhere each time I remem..
Her...
Such a beautiful face I've seen and it's one that's different compared to the others.
She left me though just the others along time ago.
Soon I'll be up and running again so will the others
But we are dreams who've been here in the clearance aisle
Waiting to be shaken...
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 9:57 PM UTC
buy this
and that
all new
low price
clearance
blow-out sale.
but you
can't buy
what i
want most;
love, life
happiness, joy
time, family
you. ♡
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 8:37 PM UTC
The tightness and the nilness round that space
when the car stops in the road, the troops inspect
its make and number and, as one bends his face
towards your window, you catch sight of more
on a hill beyond, eyeing with intent
down cradled guns that hold you under cover
and everything is pure interrogation
until a rifle motions and you move
with guarded unconcerned acceleration—
a little emptier, a little spent
as always by that quiver in the self,
subjugated, yes, and obedient.
So you drive on to the frontier of writing
where it happens again. The guns on tripods;
the sergeant with his on-off mike repeating
data about you, waiting for the squawk
of clearance; the marksman training down
out of the sun upon you like a hawk.
And suddenly you're through, arraigned yet freed,
as if you'd passed from behind a waterfall
on the black current of a tarmac road
past armor-plated vehicles, out between
the posted soldiers flowing and receding
like tree shadows into the polished windscreen.
3.5k
I have spent most of my life
walking through department stores.
I have come to feel that
Bill Blass, Ralph Lauren, and Calvin Klein
are close friends.
I ride the escalators for exercise.
I have become a professional cologne tester.
I check my credit rating daily;
American Express knows me
by my first name.
I have been married and divorced three times--
to two mannequins and a sales clerk.
I got stuck once in a revolving door
during the entire "Summer Madness" sale.
During annual clearance I inadvertently
got marked down to $42.50,
but due to inflation,
I have regained my worth.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 5:43 PM UTC
Customers have torn open the Christmas
chocolates. Shoving it in mouths,
shopping bags, children’s eyes.
Quiet. We are shopping. as. a. family.
Smoke accordions out of Santa’s mailbox. The sprinkler system
hisses stale air. Custodians ride by on their metal cart laughing,
sanitation chemicals flickering out of buckets.
The 80 year-old piano player is hammering out Schoenberg.
Customers shove lamps into their shopping bags, shove children
into them.
Turn on the light Jimmy.
The ninth floor is barricaded off by old woman. They
have turned the clearance divans on their sides
and are throwing toasters. Down in the basement,
the security staff have locked themselves into 2’ by 2’
cells. Fetally-positioned, their panting echoes off stone walls. Static
sizzles on the array of sixteen camera screens. Customers
have begin to bow in the reinforced door next to the two-way mirror.
A fat man is leaning against it. He has been dead
for over an hour. Restaurant staff are tearing
down the great tree. Ornaments funnel down pop-crashing
upwards from the floor. Three pound ceramic dinnerware crashes
into the walnut bar The customers are putting mattresses in their bags,
they are putting the offices in their bags. Human resources
are backed into the employee orientation computer lab. Customers
have poured Starbucks on the circuit-breakers. The lights are dimming,
Escalators are jamming. Children scream
I want to see Santa.
Santa is dead. Employees calmly walk over his protruding
belly. The velvet and fat feels good on tired
feet. An inhuman voice garbles
The store will be closing.
Families grab onto shelves, racks, other
families. Employees pick up the registers and slam
them on granite counters. Coins explode out like bells. The rotating
doors are not spinning. They are stuck, crunching on limbs.
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 5:16 PM UTC
I always swore
I'd never sell my soul
But then he told me
How hot I'd look
In sexier clothing
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC
Watch out, or you will find that you're
On President Trump's Enemies List,
For democratic values and Donald
Trump cannot coexist.
Former CIA Director
John Brennan, now has learned
That when it comes to silencing critics,
Trump will leave no stone unturned.
After hearing Brennan's critical
Words, the angry Trump was stewing.
Bam! He revoked Brennan's security
Clearance despite no wrongdoing.
The crazed, vindictive leader called
John Brennan's behavior "erratic."
Muzzling the freedom of speech, Trump's
Becoming more autocratic.
The office of the presidency
Has never, ever been sullied so.
This vicious attack on our First Amendment
Rights is a terrible blow.
Trump accused Brennan of making
"Baseless charges." Real translation:
Brennan didn't hail Trump
With sycophantic adoration.
On Trump's list are others who
Might lose clearances as well.
Here his lack of integrity
And pettiness have no parallel.
Another motive for Trump's action
Is more diabolical yet:
He wants to strip the power away
From all people who might be a threat
Because of their connection to
The Russia probe. That makes sense.
As more dots are being connected,
The situation is growing tense.
While servile Republicans in Congress
Defend their despotic president,
Let Brennan's powerful words
Resound: "I will not relent."
-by Bob B (8-16-18)
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 10:58 AM UTC
the best version of myself exists in clearance-nike-outlet-wear
pulling up hair made blonde by the sunshine
bending over tanned and strong legs
tying shoelaces
and laughing musical notes
willingly escaping genuine smiles
my tummy is strong then, but with soft edges
i'm proud because it's held my body together all these years
i'm proud because it will carry a mini human
someday
inside my head there are coloring books
sprawled across a playroom factory
and all the gears are turning and i'm functioning
i'm breathing
my heart is beating
and i'm not scared of eating girl scout cookies when i'm with my girls in clearance-nike-outlet-wear
i'm not scared to let laughs float to the surface
or hiccups
i'm not scared of anything at all
we're real together
and we have freckly runner legs
that love splashing in the puddles our tears make
we're not always gonna be together
we are always gonna be real
together
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 1:30 PM UTC
I remember the Tropicana Beau from Syndale,
She delivered my order at the welcome pub Dazzle-
It was the smile she was affording that day,
And now she is the jealous infection from the social bay…
I looked at her same contours hesitantly,
And they have been exposed much sharper delightedly-
She appealed me her demystified glory,
Two weeks later she left her job for the clearance money…
I remember her tears washing the ***** streets in the market,
She was refused by every seller for credit-
Those scanty clothes she was affording that day,
And now she prices her perfection in that way…
I looked at her eyes and she believed in me,
And ma editor startled me, “Sir, who is she?”
She gave me her perfect look and the rest did my camera…
We worked hard to frame her saying, “Love You…Rihanna!”
Feb 16, 2010
Feb 16, 2010 at 10:46 PM UTC
Online deals are the best distraction
for the leaky feeling in my chest.
Every click wipes a drip.
A shopping cart comprised of sale items,
the pair of oddly patterned socks,
suspenders no one will ever wear,
men's sweater in an extra-small,
an obscure band shirt-
all unwanted sitting in a 20 dollar cart.
I want them.
5 more dollars and it's free shipping.
Throw in unpopular shades of makeup
and a friendship bracelet.
Looking forward to the delivery man.
So involved in the next best sale-
the pain of neglect is removed with mail.
**i am in the clearance section-
waiting to be reconsidered
my emotions are overstock-
please pick one up half-off.**
Sometimes I never complete my purchase.
Imaginary carts of imaginary feelings.
Dump them away and forget their existence.
Someone else might see their worth
and make me wish I bought them first.
Rainy day
a broken package.
my leaky heart
drenched in mud
**wash me don't
leave me
don't forget me in the
mailbox by the door.**
Only 5 bucks.
**don't return me
to the store.**
It was free shipping.
**i promise i can be
more**
Fine, I'll take it.
Months of dust.
**i am sitting in the drawer,
wondering why you even bought me.
just because i was on sale-
now you never look my way.**
Off to goodwill.
Consumer's guilty pill.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC
Today is one of those days
My mind has sooooo much clutter
I don't know where to even begin
My table I sit, staring blankly at my notebook
Waiting for some sort of words to come out
But blank the paper still stays
Sloppy words, quite unhelpful, I mutter
It's so loud in my head, I wish you could listen
My eyes glaze over when into the clouds I look
Thoughts going floating all about
& truly I reassured you that my words are quite real
& tell you how high my anxiety level rose
My attention spans is worse than a hyper active, strung out crack addict
Who is in Walmart's clearance section
Up & down up & down sliding clothes back & forth over five times
Sometimes things feel so surreal
Almost like a mirage I suppose
**** every two minutes there I wander off distracted
If it doesn't catch my interest quick, then it's see ya later attention
.....ooooh glitter, shiny sparkles oh so pretty wind chimes
Well that helped unblock my daze
My mind just needed to choose where to start
It was something in the clouds that ignited a brain spark
& all of sudden my mind was like "where are my pens?"
No more distant stares, sitting in front of blank paper
.....ooooooweeeee.... Goodness I really gotta remember to blink during my gaze
Yes, that would've been smart
Then maybe every blink wouldn't open up so heavily dark
& I could clearly walk without blindly step by step suspense
I am just a day dreamer kinda creator
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 8:26 AM UTC
Here you are awaiting my inevitable return from work
With your dough eyed expression, purring static moans
Eager, for another pouch of 'Darcey's Fish Mix'
Unwillingly able to backoff, so I can find some clearance
In order to serve you, my pets; my overbearing bundle of fur
Whom I truly love, forever and always.
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 3:34 PM UTC
Fine, you win, you're right.
I’ve been hiding remainder feelings
Under my white duvet cover.
Can't believe that it used to be ours.
Kept on telling myself witless lies,
Such as "I've run out of washing liquid".
Kept on smelling what’s left of us in it,
Waiting for one final clearance.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
Fighter jets in formation
Above Ekeberg Hill
Remind me of years
Spent on airbases
During my time in the
Royal Norwegian Air Force.
I was stationed at NATO's
Northernmost base during 9/11.
Minutes after plane #2,
I was upgraded to
NATO Top Secret
Clearance.
Given live ammo for my P80.
Witnessing the colonel's
Marlboro Light shake in his
Usually steady hand as I
Approached; MSO briefcase
Handcuffed to my wrist.
There were papers inside
I was expected to
Die for.
I was 22.
Not even the police carry
Firearms in this country.
Not even the police are expected
To give up ghost over information.
For a nation of such ******
History, we maintain a mellow
Attitude.
We choose peace over "piece".
Gun-sense over violent nonsense.
Naïve? Maybe.
There are nearly no shootings here.
We've had one lethal act of
Terrorism since WWII.
We can live with that.
Literally.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
i
Damsel in distress, open thine soul to me, open thine chest
Colleen of medieval lace, of darling face, I'll taketh thee now;
Yet how canst I taketh one? If none is around, Talitha cuna ghost
I seeketh even thine smoke, wherever thou art, mine spirit waits.
ii
A repast banquet awaiteth for one, a table sitteth here, chairs for two; two chairs as I sitteth and eateth alone, the plàtes art full, though none amour' to tryeth the desert, none next to me for the fruit punch of thirst. Only me staring at an empty blank wall.
iii
Now mine eye's do crawl, searching the hearkening clearance
None was ever here, just signs of emptiness, and mine own disappearance, as at that moment, when the fine dinner was set; mine heart fluttered backwards, being alone, mine spirit left.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 8:31 AM UTC
I'm not an obvious kind of pretty
I don't have natural blonde hair
Or bright blue eyes
No perky little *****
No gap between my thighs
I don't look like anyone else
I bleach my own hair
Use drug store eyeshadow
Wear dresses from the clearance rack
That show the red bumps after shaving my legs
I have lumps and bumps
Cellulite and pudge
Blackheads and bacne
A recipe for nothing special at all
Just someone average
Who has a bright twinkle
In her **** brown eyes
And curvy hips
That sway in the sun
You have to look close
To see all my beauty
I'm not a model
Or a ******* bunny
Just someone on the sidelines
Watching the models and bunnies
While they get the attention
And I get brushed by
It's not obvious that I'm beautiful
Until you look into my eyes
Until you see my semi-white smile
Then you notice the little moles
The silver scars
The way my body curves
In a voluptuous way
And you see
Just how perfect I am
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 12:23 PM UTC