"coupon" poems
Trust is earned slowly,
Over the course of one's life,
But lost in an instant.
____________
I am grateful for the feedback our colleagues here were kind enough to leave (likes, loves, etc.). If anyone would like a free copy of the ebook version of my latest book of poems, Echoes of Dawn at Dusk: Collected Poems, Volume 2 you can download a copy in all ebook formats but only through one of my vendors, Smashwords -- no coupon necessary. Ends April 4, 2022. Just copy and paste the following link into your browser:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1035449
Thanks again for sharing this poem and for your feedback. Much appreciated!
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 6:10 PM UTC
I'm looking deep into her eyes
*Looking into her eyes...
is like opening a door that leads...
to another door*
Wait..really? OK...I open the door.
*This door leads to a long, winding path,
like the winding path of your love.
The path leads to a third door*
O...K. I open the door.
*This door leads to a spiral staircase
descending down, down, down, deep
into her soul.
At the bottom of the staircase is--*
A door?
A door.
I open the door
The door is locked. The key might be under the mat
Seriously? I check under the mat
Nope, not there. Maybe try under the small rock next to the door
Oh for the love of...I check the rock
There is a key
Wonderful...I unlock and open the door
*Inside this door is a large atrium
the glass ceiling giving way to a
beautiful summer night, the stars
twinkling in the distance. At the
far end of the Atrium, there is a curtain*
Sigh I pull aside the curtain
There is a door
Come on! I open the ruddy door.
*You find yourself in a long hallway,
with fine art hanging along the walls.
Crimson carpet lines the floor.
At the end of the hall is a door locked
with a combination biometric
fingerprint scanner/retinal scanner*
What.
*You have 10 seconds to unlock the door
before the hunter-bots de-atomize you*
What!? Ok! I try my fingerprints and eye!
*The door unlocks and the hunter-bots stand down.
In the next room are three vials. Two of them contain
terrible neuro-toxins that will lead to an excruciatingly
painful death. The third will allow you to continue on
to the next room. You have 30 seconds to choose before
you are terminated*
What the hell is this!?
This is the path to true love hidden deep in her eyes
No, this is insanity!
15 seconds
OK! Geez! Umm..Vial Number 2!
You're totally dead
Oh god!
Just kidding. None of them had poison...was just messing with you
THAT'S IT! I'M DONE WITH THIS
Really? There's only one more door. I swear
...Fine. What ridiculous thing do I need to do to open it.
*It's already open. You find yourself in a circular room
with a pedestal in the center. On the pedestal is a hand
written note. On that note is the key to everlasting happiness*
I pick up the note
*You smell sweet hints of your beloved's perfume and
notice the care that each word of the note was written.*
What does the note say?
*My love:
Next Tuesday Only -- Buy One-Get One Free at J.J's Pizza. Cannot be combined with any other offers/coupons. Must present coupon upon purchase. Expires 1/14/14*
...An expired coupon for Pizza?
Such a wonderful expression of love!
How do I get out of here...
You see a door
.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
Over a cup of morning java
Scanning my daily mail
I came upon an advertisement sheet
*That exclaimed in BOLD rainbow pastel*
Grand opening of a store that has everything
On the corner of Daisy and William Tell
The one thing I saw that interested me
Is they were having a back to "60's" Hippie sale
Of course I stopped what it was I was doing
Hopped in my Lexus and left right away
The excitement had my heart all in a flutter
This I guarantee is going to be a good day
They weren't kidding when they said they sold it all
I'd been wandering the store for quite a while
That's when I came to what it was I had come here for
Before me in trippy little colors, the hippie aisle
So I bought me a couple colorful hippies
With my 25% coupon I was able to save
The Hippies even came with a bonus
Fresh cut flowers and Jefferson Airplane tapes
When I got home I showed them to their room
Black light posters and colored beads hung from the door
As luck would have it I bought an Indian hemp rug
From Pier One just the day before
They taught me transcendental meditation
While I taught them both how to bathe
Their lessons broadened the mind
My lessons the nostrils saved
I soon had a groovy little hippie pad
In which organic vegetables and enlightenment grew
We'd sit around crossed legged in a purple haze at night
Playing psychedelic tunes on our Kazoo's
And I was pretty good too! Who Knew!
Yes, a house of happy hippies
Is a happy hippie house indeed
Especially when Wendy Crystal Sky...Yes, that's her name
Brews her famous dandelion tea
I highly recommend the purchase of hippies
I couldn't be any happier with mine
Sure beats the punk rockers I got on close out last year
But that my friend is another tale for another time...
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 6:48 AM UTC
I threw out his socks today.
Those ******* socks.
Long Black Nike Socks that went up to his calves.
Long Black Nike Socks that he wore with his Two Hundred Dollar
French Raw Denim Jeans because he needed the Short Black Nike Socks
To wear to work with his Khaki Dickies Shorts.
Black Nike Socks that he reminded me for months he "needed"
For his birthday in order to function properly.
Black Nike Socks that didn't cost enough to be considered
A sufficient birthday gift,
Along with some other cute things (I thought),
Including a homemade coupon for dinner at
Any restaurant of his choice.
Short Black Nike Socks whose thirty-dollar price tag
Wasn't quite up to par with the forty-dollar
Concert ticket his obviously-better-than-me friend had
So benevolently bought him.
Those ******* socks.
Aug 19, 2011
Aug 19, 2011 at 6:54 PM UTC
I call my father's father Ye-Ye
because he is a traditionalist
and the word grandfather reminds him of England.
My mother calls him a selfish *******
because he never approved of her wallet's emptiness
and walked out of her wedding.
My father calls him an immature *****
because he throws temper tantrums at eighty-seven
and still doesn't respect anyone.
When I was five,
I stayed over alone for the first time.
I accused him of trying to poison me
because I found a dead fly in my soup.
When I was ten,
I found a coupon at the market
And got him a free box of Cheerios.
When I was thirteen,
I was sitting with him outside.
I got stung by a bee
and didn't say a word.
I have not seen my grandfather in seven years.
He has since almost died four times.
My aunt calls him a racist snob
because he refused to put my biracial cousin's picture on the mantle
and boasts of his friend's grandchildren instead.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
Do you know how many times my mother coughs so hard in an hour that it still surprises me she hasn’t lost a lung?
I wonder if all the money that she spends at the gas station on that tiny cardboard box was saved instead of spent, if she could manage to pay the bills before the late notice arrived in the mail.
How many times do you think she tries to quiet the change being pushed around the tabletop as she counts out the quarters, the dimes, the nickels, the pennies before she has enough to slide the coins across the counter at the station?
How many times is her anger thrown at me because nicotine is absent from the house?
I can only imagine the color inside her chest, protecting her lungs with a black tar after too many years of flicking a flame to a thin white candlestick stuck between her lips.
The house smells of smoke and the yellow filter lines the walls, around the frames that hang themselves by nails.
I clean the mirror and see the paper towel golden from the lingering tobacco. My clothes reek of a stench so strong no amount of perfume seems to be enough.
I’m paranoid that every time I’m in a room of people and someone mentions that it smells like smoke, if they know I harbor such a scent that I pour it off second handedly as if I inhale the drug too.
I open the mailbox and the temptation to “lose” the coupon booklet addressed to her grows stronger.
The business cards labeled with a barcode on the back subtracting a dollar off when you buy two packs strengthens the urge to scrabble up the silver coins or summons the question, “do you have five dollars? I’ll pay you back when I get paid on Friday.”
Friday never comes.
I often think about how much longer it will be until all the money spent on tiny cardboard boxes will be split between tobacco and medical bills.
How long can you smoke a pack a day and still be cancer-free?
And I wonder how it’s fair to watch your mother gamble with her life each time she places a thin cigarette between her lips.
Russian roulette with cancer is a game she’s become too good at.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC
coupon for Granny's Original 32% All Natural Oatmeal®
cart-to-cart down aisle 48 and this man's an affront to khakis
and this woman's brain runs off a child's complaints
BLIZZARD 2013
according to the radar, buy 80 pounds of rock salt
from The Home Depot®, more saving. more doing.™
more rock salt. more doing
BLIZZARD 2013
according to the radar, buy two-weeks-worth of tuna,
a pallet of Pepsi Max®, and four loaves of Baker Good's NeverMold Bread®
all for $21.99 with your Sam's Club® Rewards Card
BLIZZARD 2013
cart-to-cart down aisle 62 where once there was soda, now an I.O.U.
and I read on the internet that the preservatives in diet cola will keep
my body from decomposing and I read on the internet that these
dented, discount tuna cans will give me botulism
BLIZZARD 2013
one jug of water from a spring in Mountain View, Arkansas
one jug of water from a spring in New Iberia, Louisiana
picking between Miley Cyrus and Hannah Montana
the pitter-patter on the warehouse roof reassures
time for eenie meenie miney mo
BLIZZARD 2013
and the intercom desperate for a cart wrangler
customer service now open for checkout
don't leave your toddlers alone in shopping carts
they're choking on free samples
with an echo, raindrops strike parking lot pools
just past the intersection an ambulance grumbles
BLIZZARD 2013
in a room with a view wishing the windowpane weatherized
beers bought by volume, candles forgotten, six months of
licorice, EverFluff® popcorn, and hand warmers of chemical kind
remembered
BLIZZARD 2013
will not be landing in the city, watch out for that rain though
if the temperatures drop below 32 degrees it could ice over
and if the temperatures don't, well, it won't
News 7's coverage of Blizzard 2013 brought to you by
The Home Depot®, more saving. More doing.™
and Sam's Club®, savings made simple.™
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
The day of the site visit
I hurried out at six fifteen to wait
For a train with a waning moon,
Bright Venus and Jupiter hovering
Above the skyline. The amber horizon
Turned to orange and pink
As scattered stars went dim.
Misread the schedule and arrived
Downtown three quarters of an hour
Before my Electric District connection.
An accidental gift to self.
I ascended, ate two breakfast sandwiches
I got for one dollar with a coupon,
Warm in my hands on a blue picnic table.
The sky grew light
Above the Lake and I wandered
Through Millennium Park. It was empty
Or nearly, which felt the same.
The sun broke the bent horizon
In chrome and ice. I took some pictures,
Then descended to find Track Five.
The day's light revealed
Hollow houses with cartoon stone applied
Like paint, unable to compete
For preeminence with two-car garages.
The newest were bigger and offered
In different colors, but all the same.
Driving conditions were excellent.
At sunset I stood on another platform
Above a busy highway. The last rays came
Through tree branches and melted
Into the pale sky as they left my face.
I had witnessed that sun's birth,
It had warmed me while I waited for my carpool,
Rested with me on a concrete planter after lunch.
I entered the city in darkness
A second time. Changed muddy boots
For clean shoes and hurried to the museum.
It was a free night, overcrowded
With families and children, so difficult
To find a quiet corner for contemplation,
Any sanctuary for my own small soul.
I descended, discovered the typewriters, then
Realized you and I were already there, just
In different colors, using different words,
Spending school vacation to view old paintings
And the Holiday Miniature Rooms.
It dawned and the future was brighter even
As I left the city in darkness.
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 3:29 PM UTC
Shopping was the world first invitation to women,
a freedom to move out of her house. Initially,
Woman practiced shopping for vegetables and slowly
extended to garments/jewelry/white goods etc. Today,
the world has experiencing a better market due to
window shopping. The concept innovated by women,
the women who started window shopping has helped
the awareness of the market, The more the window shopping,
more the sales. The concept of window shopping
helped the textile industries to understand about their products.
The textile industries has developed in terms of marketing
say readymade, exchangeable, trial rooms, gifts coupons
are coz of women. Its encouraged the women to do
shopping effectively.
Facts about shopping. Customer who shop with their friends
tend to buy more costly products than when they shop alone.
Next, In terms of clothing, General advises is to buy
one garment at a time coz If you buy few dresses, You tend the use
the first selected dress more than the others. Buying 'Take Away'
in (costly) restaurant was the blinder coz restaurant charge more
for the ambience less for the food. Using cash on shopping,
you tend to spend less and you bargain more. Don't increase
your buying to eligible for discount coupon. A survey says
that 90% of the issued discount coupons are never redeemed.
Never shop on Discount Sale coz the best collection will be
taken off the shelf by the shopkeeper. The amazing fact,
If any one buy the best and costly clothes one size less than
the one normally uses, has brought down the weight
of that person.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
Oh Eliot, Poor Eliot, Your Fans Hung You in the Closet and I'm Feelin' So Sad^
<>
we tithed thee with donations plenty,
here a dollar, there a fiver, a coupon for free chips,
worthy of somebody’s eternal gratitude,
that would be you,
da Duke, Duke of York
the largest online free poetry site,
a million visitors a day, why you must be
the richest poet online billionaire, right?
you,
da Duke, Duke of York and
occasional poet...
in return, all we occasional poets demand
steady on instant access, immediate satisfaction,
after all, a part time job deserves your bestus-best,
just like every other large online site, that never crashes,
we’re not like just the rest, we are
p o e t s,
occasionally
so keep the servers engines, well stoked with Newcastle coal,
keep them up and running round the clock,
using only alternative energy,
of the unceasing sun light of merry old England!
quit that other job, you must,
instead of giving up on us,
give in to us,
a poetry break, a writing recharge,
though please add a limited liability
clause to the FAQ’s,
that poets’ lives must deal with the hiccup
occasional
you, da Duke, Duke of York,
newly now, an appointment royale as Major General,^^
you, the very model of a modern major general
possessing information vegetable, animal, mineral and
technical,
who knows the Queens of England, who,
maybe even now is telling tales of your heroics with the hordes of
hysterical
occasional
poetical
globalists
demanding
light brigadests
charging the redoubt
and
when you have a moment spare,
a haircut, please.
no, that is not a request,
naturally
<>
10/19/19
Noontime NYC
natalino
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 12:21 PM UTC
Hunger and Desire grew
'til bellies everywhere were
ruined for sustenance,
so in went the troops to wage
war against ideas and
when they arrived there were no
soldiers to speak of
so they set up tents
and didn't go away
they sang drunken war-songs
until the moan of starvation bellies
sang louder and more terribly
"That must have been them
the whole time!" they said, and
suited up for the charge.
So they trained their shells at the city
excited to see if target practice
had done them any good
but all they did was mortar themselves to bits
squadrons of video-game experts
sent drones overhead to drop
Hallmark cards titled "Why it's your fault"
and coupon booklets for American
chain shopping outlets to come
but they only marginalized
and condescended themselves
"Bring in the reinforcements!"
they cried, even conscripting
their hapless targets. This mob,
too, was a hungry belly
bellowing for satisfaction,
a cannibal ***
simmering
So they set up tables and stacked
boring paperwork, filing away
spirits broken by shrapnel and white
phosphorus
but they only resigned themselves
to imaginary lines and the plunder
of Control, insensibly
****** themselves to death
while they watched,
perplexed.
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
There's a funny sort of emptiness
that passes over me
as I walk past the paperback erotica that tuck themselves away
in the shelves of the local grocery store in places that are
simultaneously completely out in the open yet completely ignored
looking, as I do, with mock casual interest
and unfeigned disdain.
Who are these intended for, really?
Are they for the snuggly-wuggly, ***** cozy-woozy, wishy-washy and warm family of four
comparing chicken nugget prices and
weighing the health benefits of
vegetable medley versus succotash?
Or are they for the uni flatmates
walking huddled together for warmth or protection or both,
seeing as they're wearing only sandals and denim shorts
and this is the first time
they've been grocery shopping without mum,
that giggle loudly together to mask how homesick they really are
while they compare the calories in
Campbell's versus Progresso.
They went with Progresso if you were wondering.
Or are they meant for those who are cooking for one?
For those who have no need to compare prices
or calories
out loud.
For those who are well acquainted
with the old, familiar tiled aisles
as they have no one to take out to dinner.
Is this where they are to find company?
Betwixt the pages of a badly penned,
lighter than marshmallows,
more shallow than the kiddie pool,
more transparent than Casper,
not-good-enough-to-be-bloody-compost
"literary" garbage?
Is this -assumed- female
supposed to curl up with one of these slabs of drivel
and feel **** and aroused
in her baggy sweats and ill-fitting hoodie
after she ate a microwaveable chicken *** pie all by her lonesome?
As a single girl who often cooks for one,
I am offended by this.
Personally,
I think Lestat is ten times sexier than Edward,
Salai is way cuter than Fabio,
and Christian Grey couldn't S Mr. Rochester's D.
What I'm saying is-
Grocery Stores.
YOU are the primary reason for this pathetic f-ckery.
Everything else in the store can be compared for quality.
So why not apply that same knowledge
to the book arena.
Signed,
A Concerned Shopper
p.s. Please extend the validity date on the chicken *** pie coupon. Thank you!
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 10:57 PM UTC
Over a cup of morning java
Scanning my daily mail
I came upon an advertisement sheet
That exclaimed in BOLD rainbow pastel
Grand opening of a store that has everything
On the corner of Daisy and William Tell
The one thing I saw that interested me
Is they were having a back to "60's" Hippie sale
Of course I stopped what it was I was doing
Hopped in my Lexus and left right away
The excitement had my heart all in a flutter
This I guarantee is going to be a good day
They weren't kidding when they said they sold it all
I'd been wandering the store for quite a while
That's when I came to what it was I had come here for
Before me in trippy little colors, the hippie aisle
So I bought me a couple colorful hippies
With my 25% coupon I was able to save
The Hippies even came with a bonus
Fresh cut flowers and Jefferson Airplane tapes
When I got home I showed them to their room
Black light posters and colored beads hung from the door
As luck would have it I bought an Indian hemp rug
From Pier One just the day before
They taught me transcendental meditation
While I taught them both how to bathe
Their lessons broadened the mind
My lessons the nostrils saved
I soon had a groovy little hippie pad
In which organic vegetables and enlightenment grew
We'd sit around crossed legged in a purple haze at night
Playing psychedelic tunes on our Kazoo's
And I was pretty good too! Who Knew!
Yes, a house of happy hippies
Is a happy hippie house indeed
Especially when Wendy Crystal Sky...Yes, that's her name
Brews her famous dandelion tea
I highly recommend the purchase of hippies
I couldn't be any happier with mine
Sure beats the punk rockers I got on close out last year
But that my friend is another tale for another time...
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 6:01 AM UTC
I found the perfect pair of blue jeans once
I was 12 years old
They hugged my adolescent body
Until I was 13 and a half
And my body started to change
Tiny layers of fat creeped up on me
Laying on my thighs and my bottom and my hips
Making my body into a woman’s
You see, I am cursed with curves and tiny ankles
While my thighs and my bottom and my hips changed
My ankles remained the same
Petite
Frail
Bony
It has become impossible to find
The perfect pair of blue jeans
I would come close
Hugging my hips with grace
Encasing my thighs with elegance
Even closing to embrace my calves
The denim fabric reached my ankles
And became baggy, oversized
I gave up
I bought three pairs of the same style that almost fit
Until yesterday
I came upon a coupon
And so I went shopping
In an unfamiliar store
And I tried on a pair of blue jeans
They hugged my hips with grace
They encased my thighs with elegance
They closed to embrace my calves
And when the denim fabric came to an end
And the final stitches held the jeans together
My ankles were not drowned in thick denim
They were petite
Frail
Bony
But they had found the perfect pair of blue jeans
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 10:37 PM UTC
Coffee in the morning?
I chose French Vanilla.
No coupon, no discount
Even if a daily customer.
I'm not complaining,
It could have been Starbucks
I saved a dollar or two,
Buying from college.
Apr 5, 2010
Apr 5, 2010 at 8:31 AM UTC
say for example,
that you love to play baseball.
[it is your favorite thing in the world,
and you're quite good at it, too].
and before your game,
your coach says to the team,
"if we win, i'll take everybody to Pizza Hut!"
upon hearing this, the players' faces light up-
each one can taste the delicious stuffed crust that awaits them,
and visions of breadsticks dance through their heads.
the coach even brought a coupon book to allude to their possible futures...
just before the team takes the field,
the coach pulls you aside
and says,
"actually, i'm going to take the whole team to Pizza Hut
even if we lose."
well, you would know right then
that outcome of the game
is irrelevant,
but the true joy of playing
comes from competition regardless of winning or losing,
so you vow to play your best game ever.
however, everyone else on the team,
not knowing the ultimate truth,
will play very seriously,
but with great anxiety and nervousness.
they desperately want Pizza Hut,
but know that they might not getting it.
this game is the most important thing in the universe,
and it is the most serious test of all time.
every at-bat is tense for them,
each fly ball could result in ultimate damnation.
nothing is fun.
with tension and anxiety,
they strike out, play conservatively,
and don't take the risks that make the game enjoyable.
quickly, the team finds itself trailing by a few runs,
and sweating profusely because of it.
you, on the other hand,
would feel more relaxed during the game.
you would swing for the fences,
knocking a couple out of the park,
steal a base or two,
make a diving catch.
play your best game ever.
you can do this comfortably
because you realize that you're just playing for fun.
you're going to Pizza Hut after game, whatever the outcome!
soon, in your exuberance,
you'd let slip the secret to a couple other players.
you'd tell them, "guys, we were always going to Pizza Hut,
let's just have some fun while we play this game."
most of them rejoice!
[a couple real serious ones doubt you and resent you.
you'd surely smile, bend a knee, and applaud their solemnity.]
but in your state of joy you include the doubters,
and you let them believe what they will until the final innings over.
you think, they'll wake up soon enough.
with the last out made
and the last run scored,
maybe you look at the scoreboard and see yourself in the lead,
maybe you are a few runs behind,
but the smile on the coach's face says it all:
the peace and joy within you brought into your world happiness...
... and a large pepperoni pizza.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
You were always
a bit of backward
but your small, fuzzy grins
came cheap and easy.
We never guessed
they'd change the rules
so fast.
Salvation might have come
in coupon form,
and dolled-up pretty—
some say better than new—
we could have shared
old games, odd romance,
a few more laughs.
But I let that last chance slip,
and now a brick,
you're going gently onto
the back-alley *******
heaped in the middle of the night.
Apr 11, 2010
Apr 11, 2010 at 11:43 AM UTC
At a streetfair downtown
A 5-dollar coupon in hand
We used to buy a skinny tree
Potted up in an old rusty can
It may have looked less than promising
So leggy and light as a feather
Tentatively thought did it have roots?
Our first purchase we made together
We planted our tree in the yard
That spindly gumbo-limbo
But native to our Florida
It knew just how to grow
Just like I’d envisioned its shade
A canopy against fierce heat
Protecting us from that relentless sun
It’s now grown twenty-five feet
Six years have passed us by now
And risking sounding sappy
We’ve grown, too, as has our love
The tree and we are happy
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
Collided with you on my way to work,
No, it wasn’t a sign, wasn’t destiny’s quirk.
A swollen temple and a bruised nose
Do not herald a date, a wedding, or even a rose.
Dropped my books on my way to class,
Our fingers brushed when you knelt on the grass
Music blasting from the dorm on the second floor
I nodded my thanks and walked through the door.
I know they say it’s divine intervention,
But it’s more just my lack of hand-eye coordination.
I know you believe we were meant to be
But I need spectacles more than a relationship.
Now my scarf’s stuck to your wrist watch,
My hem’s ripped, your buckle’s botched.
I knew I shouldn’t have bought the lace
Oh **** Did you think this was decreed by fate?
Spilled my coffee on your shirt front
**** Was it Ralph Lauren? Peter England?
Here’s a coupon for a dry-cleaning discount
Just tell me you don’t think this counts.
Look, I’m not saying you’re reading too much into this,
Though that might be an accurate analysis.
All I’m saying is our future looks accident prone
So maybe invest in an insurance plan before a wedding loan.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 12:33 PM UTC
You and I
Are like faded vouchers.
**No matter what they say
We are Redeemable**
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 8:50 AM UTC
Mail in your coupon to save a few bucks
Use the money to buy time off your sentence
Cutting out a coupon
Sure beats cutting up your soul
Send away for redemption
If you can find a stamp
Mail in redemption
The answer to salvation
Lies
On the box
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
She places her book, marked with
a coupon I've been meaning to use,
on the nightstand. She turns the light
out on her side. It's her side, her light.
The left side is mine.
Night.
Night.
We're past clutching love. We're
not married, but I think I know
what it means. It's two lonely
people; it's two sides of the bed.
It doesn't take her long to fall asleep.
I watch her forehead unwrinkle.
I listen as her inhales and exhales
become spaced and even. At this moment,
I do not know her. She's not a woman.
All the inviting curves collapse. She is
a girl breathing in, breathing out.
In a memory she related to me--I think
she related to me--she asks a boy to give her
a turn on a swing. It's toward the end of recess.
She has waited. He says no. This is my swing.
She says it is the school's. He says the school
isn't sitting in it. I can almost remember why
she told me this story or some story like it.
I can't sleep without my fan on. She can't
fall asleep with it. I'll give her a couple more
minutes. I wonder what violence she dreams
of, of what forbidden ecstasy she views in
her private night. I do not know her. She
looks vulnerable, her body now bent in an S shape,
facing away from me. Am I scared for her? Of her?
Still sleeping, she bunches up her comforter;
she brings it to her face. Maybe that's marriage: being
scared for and of.
I turn on the fan. She stirs.
I'm sorry. I'll turn it off.
You can leave it on.
I'll turn it off.
Leave it.
She pulls my arm under her neck.
She brings her bottom against my thighs.
Will you hold me? Just for a second.
I can hold you longer.
Just a second.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC
If Pain was a payment....
My bills would all be solved....
If Loneliness was my line of credit....
Then I would max it out for you....
If Sadness was a passport....
We would fly around the world.....
But i only have a coupon called Hope...
And it barely makes a difference on the payment of Life....
And all the I O U's from the bank of Trust...
Barely get me by...
I see the economy of Happiness an empire not worth investing... Because no price is as low as the discount of Loss......
But i break my life savings kept in Piggy bank called Memories...
And I remember I saved just enough Love to get me thru......
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 1:15 AM UTC
No one awakes knowing
That today is
The day
That you're going to die.
Death doesn't
Call to confirm your appointment
(No calls either
Human or computerized)
You can't cancel
Or change
Your mind when you arrive.
It doesn't matter if you
Have insurance
Or
Promise to pay on time.
It won't ask you to
To sign an ROI.
Death doesn't reschedule.
Death accepts no excuses
It won't wait until
It's a more convenient time
Or have you check
Your schedule
Your bank account
Your ethnicity
Your marital status.
Death won't take
Your past history.
It won't give you a coupon
Bill your mom
Take a bribe
Or
Give you a referral to
To another specialist
On his time
Or for that matter his dime.
Death has no bedside manner
Won't prescribe you drugs
Doesn't care what your
Father does.
Death won't even
Look you in the eye
Check your side
Listen to your complaints
Or successes
Show compassion
Or
Give you
An empathetic understanding sigh.
Death takes no names
And takes no answers
Death has no samples
Studies
Or sage advice.
However death is like
Waiting for the dentist
Your turn is going
To come.
Sleep is called
Mini-deaths,
All of this
No wonder I can't sleep
And by the way
Death doesn't schedule
Follow up appointments...
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC