"coupla" poems
there's a pair of
chopsticks i'd wanted to
order/for a while,
*(made from old recycled
baseball bats y'know.
japanese little league teams)*
so i drive in to the library
[they have free/fast wireless]
& connect.
shop around a coupla sites to
find the cheapest price.
& amidst the crying of infants..
the beeps of **** being checked out...
i'm all done & thinking
of rice.
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 2:12 PM UTC
Books to the library
photos to family.
Paint cans and lumber
from renovations years ago.
Most of the furniture
including the piano.
Fastest way to do this
is rent a dumpster.
On the internet
nothing’s permanent.
I like that.
Photosynthesis, evaporation
as if your spirit disappears
when the sun appears.
It’s a burden lifted
not to have to persevere.
Edits
for clarity
and brevity.
One owes the reader
a respite from
the tonnage of
fructifying English.
To drown one’s book is devoutly to be wished.
Coupla trumpets,
big comfy couch,
four beds and dressers
and the contents of closets.
Tools we don’t use,
surge protectors and chargers,
lawn and patio accoutrements,
table settings for ten.
Lamplit underground,
the stray branch,
synchronized chaos,
a red fez.
One canary,
map of Antarctica,
three deaf little otoliths,
six or seven sybils.
Extra salt and pepper shakers,
sharpies and crayons,
a printer and a scanner,
the Bible and Koran.
Kaput calculators and computers,
subscriptions and prescriptions,
a host of vitamins
and the ghosts of ancestors.
Time itself
but not nature.
Wealth
and most of culture
but not my health.
That I’ll keep,
and sleep—practice
for perfect rest.
Mar 19, 2024
Mar 19, 2024 at 6:54 AM UTC
the beach here is nicest
on the weekends
by sunday, after supper.
the crowds are not crowds,
nor are the remnants of them
so awful, so loud, sweaty
--and you can hear the waves properly!
there are just a few last cottagers
clinging to the sand
and a coupla locals feet in the surf
sippin' beers in the days'
last dying sunbeams.
Aug 15, 2011
Aug 15, 2011 at 8:14 PM UTC
Cardinal Number… The product of ten and five... or
Degrees of temperature… or half’a century … or the amount of feet
I be screamin for folks to
Back up and give me
labor pains… and mental strain… Losses… Gains… and I’m still sane and baby
I’ve paid my dues… yes sir I’ve paid some dues… and at times…
Paid a coupla other folks dues too… rememberin
stretchin the hell out some red beans & rice…
candle lit camp outs in the livin room… laughin our way through unpaid bills… rememberin
hiding behind bushes… jumping from tree to tree… so they think they’re
trick or treatin by themselves… thinkin
Can you say “TEENAGER”… I sho can… both bein one… and raisin some…
shootin from the hip tryin ta figure it all out…
Young folks askin you the meanin of life… and YOU don’t even know yet what it’s all about...
Gettin mad when HER teacher gave YOUR science project a C… cuz you know YOU do A work...
Sittin off by yourself as he walks across the stage… cuz this moment is to be savored...
Learnin the difference between ALONE and LONELY…
Learnin that **** is not something you take off or put on… ****** **** just is…
Learnin to work with what you got...
Learnin that nobody can MAKE you happy… you got to find that for yourself...
Learnin to see the Big Picture and pick out whats important… cuz
It’s tough to get to Fifty…
That’s why a lotta folks don’t make it….
All the moments… good and bad…
break ups…
break downs…
and breakthroughs...
It’s Fifty…
And by Fifty
We’ve all paid our dues…
Yes, Fifty
You've paid your dues… and if you're lucky… and livin right…
Paid a coupla other folks dues too
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 12:57 PM UTC
ears still ringin'.
cut across from saint lau with a coupla burgers,
walk down peel, misty and damp, to a bus stop.
once home find hair smells like mcdonald’s & clouds & remember
that conversation i just had about the increasing
amount of wayward young adults..
with the driver of the 360 westbound.
---too cold for the balcony so i'll
probably just couch it & sizzle a nice bowl & wish
i had a little bit more to write tonight.
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 1:05 PM UTC
Like wow man what was that **** we smoked?
Must be some heavy **** man, that we just toked
Look in the mirror man, perhaps you'll see my point
Wow, what the hell man did you put in that last joint
My brain is hurting, my eyes are half closed and hazy
What has happened to your face man, I'm goin' crazy
Gotta get some fresh air man or I'm bound to flip
Smoked a coupla reefers, feels like an acid trip
Hell man you are really weird and looking queer
Mouth so big you could whisper in your own ear
Nose like a squashed peg, it is beginning to twitch
Man, your'e real ugly, a mean lookin' son of a *****
Your eyes are darting everywhere, God only knows how
With your tongue, you can even lick your own eyebrow
Tonsils are swollen, I can see right down your throat
Must have drank lots of beer coz your lunch is afloat
Man if you are going near a mirror turn off the light
If you see what I can see you'll probably die of fright
Perhaps it was the white powder that made you look queer
Can't blame the ***** coz Iv'e only been drinking light beer
Half of your guts came out last time you started to cough
Man, get outa my sight till these God dam drugs wear off
Now my veins feel like they'll burst, the blood is a pumpin'
Lungs are short of oxygen and my heart is really thimpin'
I know you think its funny ya ****** but please do not grin
Coz when you start smiling man, you are as ugly as sin
Gonna go to bed now man, see ya in the mornin' old friend
Hope when I wake up man, you are looking normal again
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 6:02 AM UTC
They made me
employee
of the Month.
I will probably
(as in all good yankee films)
turn into an axe killer or
serial murderer now,
I only wanted a badge,
you know
like a sheriff has
a coupla stars would do
but
you
made me
something I never will be
except now I am.
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 11:19 PM UTC
I visited my old man when he was just a coupla’days from death.
He looked serene as I walked down the ward…
dozing with a satisfied, benign smile - like he was still glad to be alive.
He opened one eye when he ‘felt’ me arrive
“Now then”... He said… “this Morphine… It’s ****** brilliant stuff.
I tell you what - if I’d known how good this’d make me feel
I’d ‘ave been a right ****** I can’t get enough!
What he’d actually also said… had been…
“If my mother’s milk'd made me feel this good
I’d never have been weened!”
I know… Not the most pleasant turn of phrase.
But come on - just an old guy - at the end of his days
“So pa..Eighty Five? What do you reckon?… A good run?”
"Well, apart from the great depression and 2nd World War…It’s been quite fun".
but I’d have been a lot happier if your mam hadn’t gone before.
What’s the point without her to balance me out…
She’d ride shotgun, map read on trips out,
and we had laughs galore
We were a double act, Morecambe & Wise, Little & Large -
Margaret & Bud! That was us!
So now I’m right fed up of being on me own…it’s no good -
I don’t like flying solo - alone.
Being on my tod in the day, well that ain’t so bad.
But come the evening the loneliness - it’s driving me ****** mad.”
“And now there’s all this ***** He points at where the tubes go.
Like this…What’s it really all about? there’s just - well I don’t know…
You should be able to choose when it’s time to end - time to go.
Not hang around rudderless without your best friend.
I’ll be off in a couple of days then you can get on with things
not hanging around - worrying about me… and he was right.
Just tweak that dial on the drip stand and… I’ll shove off,
circle around and choose a new place to land…
Don’t worry - There is such a thing as reincarnation you know...
So, see you when I find me feet…hopefully - in the afterglow!"
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 5:25 AM UTC
“I like cars with big butts’ she said.
“The ones with soft interiors and big joysticks
That you hold while racing down at 70 mph
Down straight highways swerving through bylanes
And bursting into breeze and wide open spaces!”
Spent. The exhausts thunder . Throttles down and grazing
Hear the sound of engines purring?
“I like the old Mustangs” she said
“They growl back at you throttle deep,
Crunching up the pussycats
Mewing on the slow lane”
“I like tequila that’s naughty
No aftertaste, a coupla shots
A hot bonnet to warm you back
And a piston that does a six stroke
Slow ride
As we race to a finish on the salt lakes”
“ Don’t you like Mercedes?” I softly queried
“ Nah” she replied curtly.
“ But it starts with an M too?”
“Oh yeah, its got no twang in it though!”
I surrendered to the sound of giggles.
We pulled up near a parking lot
And she slid into a vacant slot
Both **** and front touching.
Menagerie of cars parked perfectly.
I admired her driving skill.
Author Notes
Yeah, its about cars. Get your mind outta the gutter will ya?
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
Heater and me shoulda been a thing
but we let it go,
I stayed put when she went south
to see the hippy show
at Varanasi she got sick
I'd warned her of the same
but her friend was green, about our scene
so she went anyway
When I got back to England
I gave her dad a call,
she'd given me his number
coz she didn't know where she'd fall
he said she was in England too
and not too far from me
I waited for a coupla of days
hoping she'd be free
and when I called I could hear
some strain within her voice
she didn't sound like the angel
I had met in other times
she told me she was hooked up
with the guy she'd left behind
she felt like she'd betrayed him
she was not the travelling kind
Jan 8, 2020
Jan 8, 2020 at 5:36 PM UTC