"deliverable" poems
*take a chance
on .... the unlikely
and wake unto
deliverable posts
to magique*
cyber dream to life
green grid illumines
when portal's engaged
in tele-heartbeats
well beyond sky-wishes
rise
go forward
think openly
touch the improbable
*no holds barred
as con-tac-tix
spells
pure contact //
tactile pleasure
and
lively ... tactics*
S T, 14 August 2013
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
I watched my very own
Charles Bukowski
eat a tangerine outside of
the arthouse
where we were reading.
His name is not really Bukowski,
but he has told tales in the same
vein as the Laureate of Drunkards
for longer than I have been alive.
I have listened to that same back alley
patois,
and barroom wisdom for long
enough that I feel a certain level
of comfort in calling the old gizzard
this municipality's own
Charles Bukowski.
The grizzled old poet
is telling wanton tales
of love and honeydew.
He goes on and on,
recounting the times
that he's drunk
strong potato liquor
with Bengal tigers
in the backseats
of roaring taxis
on his way to parties
hosted by zebras and
gazelles.
We each light a cigarette,
pausing to smoke for a while.
Seeking to continue
the conversation with
my salty comrade,
yet knowing my own
stories cannot compete,
I surge onward nonetheless.
His interruptions jam my
traffic before I can even make
it onto the onramp of his
particular, peculiar highway.
His mouth is already working,
though his tangerine consumed.
He's chewing his next story into
digestible, deliverable bits.
And, now he's chewing the rind.
His mouth,
his words,
his life,
and my own for all of it,
is full of
zest.
***
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2017
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 7:52 PM UTC
For everything we think we know
and let's use some
of those fancy words:
key demographics, target audiences, potential consumers,
strategies, theories, 3 I's, 4 P's, 4 C's,
consultants, coordinators, directors, decision makers,
sizes, scopes, negotiations, deliverable.
Remember when we first knew
there was and hopefully remains
a real reason why we went this way...
... and weather or not you remember, or even realize that
reason is real; you can do yourself service. Just watch your
brush-fire breath take form, and your river's senses flow.
Do this instead of learning what you think you need to know.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 8:13 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
They promises us
A chicken in every ***
By telling us things
That are not
Worth a bucket
Of warm snot
I’m sick of them
The whole lot
Simply put
Snake oil salesmen
Will say anything
Just to win
But they’re short
On the deliverable end
Despite the messages
That they send
Promise us anything
But give us Arpege
They embrace issues
That have a wedge
Sometimes their bets
They try to hedge
Before they take us
Over the ledge
Snake oil salesmen
What can I say?
Sell the same ****
Day after day
And they won’t let reality
Get in their way
While we’re being led
Should I say astray?
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 9:06 PM UTC
“ When it comes to theology, philosophy
and the mystery of human relationships,
not knowing is a value I cherish.
But now, with so many lives at stake,
I’m finding it excruciating.
Jay Michaelson
February 23, 2024
<>
Certainty,
h a s
certainly transmogrified
into
delusion.
the irony is neither lost nor found,
but it is profound.
when the delusional,
are certitudinal,
what is criminal
is
logical explicable,
because it's explainable.
I know
you know
what
I know,
and I
am certifiably
certain
you will
agree.
only the delusional
now
believe
certitude
is decipherable & deliverable,
ain’t that just
crazy
Aug 19, 2024
Aug 19, 2024 at 3:58 PM UTC