"duplex" poems
You were in a Donatella Versaci masterpiece
I was in a Bottega Veneta custom
Diana Krall was in the stereo
Lemon lobster baking in the oven
And you and I
You and I were slow dancing like eighth graders
In the living room
With the coffee table pushed to the wall
And the T.V. cabinet cupboard shut
So we could have a little more room for our evening waltz
I guess that's what I get
For watching a romantic comedy and the Emmy's
On the same night
And even though that dream may be twenty years from ever coming true,
Because both you and I were in our forties
Trying to impress each other with how interesting
We could keep our relationship
Even though we both knew all we had to do
Was wake up in the morning and smile at each other
To fall in love again,
It was worth it because in that dream
I could actually dance
And the lobster was amazing
Say what you will
I have very sensory dreams
And things feel, taste, and smell like they do in real life
And it may have had something to do
With how beautiful you looked in that dress
Or the scent you were wearing
But that lobster was amazing
And your hands on my shoulders
Was a massage you weren't giving
As we two stepped through the room
And my lips mouthing every line
That danced through the air
Directly onto you earlobe
Was just an excuse for my cheek to touch yours
And as Veneta and Versace got comfortable on the floor
And my sensory dreams turned into a little bit more
My fleeting thoughts were of your smile in the morning
And I know you don't see yourself there yet
Taking pleasure in slow dancing
And waking up next to each other
But I see myself there just as clear
As I see myself right here
And I'll to drop the Veneta for jeans
Your Versace for pajamas
Lobster for KFC
If I'm slow dancing with you to Diana Krall in our living room
I don't give a **** if
We own the coffee table to push out of the way
I want to spend my life with you
I want to spend my life slow dancing with you
I want to spend my life whisper-humming
Standards into your ear slow dancing
In the living room of our house with you
Duplex with you
Apartment with you
Trailer with you
I don't care
I want to spend my life slow dancing with you
I want to spend my life with you
And I'm not being too sweet
I'm being too honest
And I know grand romantic gestures aren't your thing
Girl, flowers on Valentine's Day aren't your thing
But I hope someday soon you make a hobby out of slow dancing
Because I had a dream last night
I'd love to come true
Jan 11, 2010
Jan 11, 2010 at 10:19 AM UTC
My body is not a temple,
Instead it is a duplex.
My body is a place where the two halves of me live,
Together, though they can't quite interact.
My body is not a temple,
It's more like a church.
All the spirituality of a temple,
Covered by snobbery and incense.
My body is not a temple,
Rather, it's like a smartphone.
It runs just like a laptop,
But it fits just in your pocket out of sight.
My body is not a temple,
It's actually just flesh.
Mortal bone and sinew,
And an ever-tightening knot at its core.
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 3:29 AM UTC
All the planets are falling
Much to my chagrin
From their fishing line and ticky-tacky
Out of the stucco cosmos.
The days are carbon copies
Of last month’s plans:
Work and meet with people who matter
Not enough that I don’t need reminding.
The second bookshelf isn’t quite full
But the knick-knacks look nice
Even the fake succulent
Helps to tie it all together.
A brown lizard on the wall
Still only metal
Extends his tail for a towel,
But all of mine are folded on the floor
Next to the briefcase-looking record player
I hardly use but use enough.
And the TV is in front of my bed
Where I hardly sleep but sleep too much
And now the incense has died
But it will smell nice all day.
When I leave the microcosm will crash
Except for the sticky ticky-tacky stalactite
My burnt out light bulb will be replaced
A star for a new solar system
If any god or goddess thinks to make one
But for now
The planets are falling.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
aix, beck's, becks, blech's, checks, cheques, czechs, dec's, decks, dex, eckes, eques, ex, fecks, flecks, flex, heck's, hex, jex, kecks, lecce, lex, meckes, mex, necks, nex, next, peck's, pecks, plex, rex, sheck's, shek's, specks, specs, sphex, tech's, techs, teck's, tex, treks, vex, whelks, wrecks, x, x. amex, ampex, annex, apec's, apex, armtek's, avtex, aztecs, berlex, caltex, cemex, centex, cmx, comex, complex, comtrex, convex, crownx, defex, dissects, duplex, effects, ejects, entex, execs, expects, eyetech's, fanech's, fedex, finex, gatx, gtech's, inmex, intex, latex, memtec's, metex, natec's, nobec's, nymex, nynex, objects, onex, opec's, paychecks, paychex, pemex, perplex, pewex, playtex, portec's, projects, qintex, quebec's, railtex, rednecks, reflects, rejects, respects, roughnecks, scitex, simplex, starplex, steinbeck's, subjects, suspects, syntex, telex, telmex, tenrecs, timeplex, tridex, trintex, triplex, truex, vertex, visx, wall-tex, wedtech's, westtech's adaptec's, ametek's, atx, banamex, between decks, biotechs, bottlenecks, cineplex, cybersex, cytotechs, datarex, discotheques, equitex, eurochecks, gendrisek's, genentech's, govpx, hyponex, intellects, intersects, kaisertech's, malcolm x, medarex, mediplex, megaplex, memorex, methanex, metroplex, middlesex, multidex, multiplex, neorx, oraflex, pillowtex, prentnieks, rolodex, stratoflex, superx, symantec's, teleflex, turtlenecks, unisex, ventritex adaptaplex, ameritech's, audiotex, begonia rex, ****** simplex, solar apex, videotex, tyrannosaurus rex, regression of y on x
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 6:24 PM UTC
Imagination Piranhas
I walk down the street trying to analyze what I see
Two trees in the shadow connected by a power line
A duplex, abandoned, dark and silent
Simple objects that line my path and hold some story
Some deeper truth ready to be unraveled
I try to decipher this meaning
To look passed the tangible exterior
Beyond the cells and through the atoms
For some soul or sentence
Some lost ghost ready to tell a tale
But I can’t
The story is muffled and the meaning is lost
Through the trees, beyond the worn down duplex
I see only more darkness
My senses have been dulled
Overshadowed by a vermin
A sinister parasite consuming the world around me
The imagination piranhas
Callous and cold creatures
They linger in the darkness and drift through the air
Like a cancer they grow, feeding upon the beauty of the world
Made of mortar and brick that house our civilization
They dwell in the steel and noxious fumes of industrial growth
Polluting ears with their diesel engine roar
Corrupting the space between nature and thought
The imagination piranhas
Dominating the atmosphere
Hindering analysis of the universe
With bright lights that blind the story in the darkness
Their shouts and electronic noise drown out the true song
A quiet song
The imagination piranhas…
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 12:12 AM UTC
when i was born,
my mom said that i lived in a trailer.
she said it was nice.
i can not remember it.
when i was two years old,
my mother and my father moved us to a duplex.
my childhood best friend lived next door,
there were cat tails growing in a ditch behind us,
and the garage was a giant mouth
with bicycle teeth.
it is blurry in my mind.
when i was five years old,
they took me to a house.
it was an older house,
one with an '80s basement
and monsters in the laundry room.
it seems like a movie missing a few scenes.
when i turned eight,
we moved to a new house.
they moved while i was at a Titanic exhibit
at the science center.
it was the house where my father turned bad,
and we made him leave,
and he resides there now.
it is something i read in a book one year ago.
when i was thirteen,
we didn't have a home to go home to.
we stayed where we could.
we moved to a fire hazard.
we left again.
it seems like a nightmare.
when i was fourteen,
we found another home.
it was the best we could do.
it was infested with crickets
and mold on the concrete.
and my best friend lived down the street,
and we no longer speak.
it is a dream.
when i was fifteen,
we scurried off to an apartment.
the buildings were blue,
and the people were rude,
and the downstairs neighbor always makes his children cry.
and another neighbor is a stripper,
she is never home.
and another escapes with pills,
the prescription type,
she smokes a lot and talks on the phone.
even this is beginning to fade away.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
house.
dormitory.
lodge.
apartment.
duplex.
hotel.
all places to call home.
none of these feel like a home to me.
my home is wherever you are.
your welcoming arms,
your loving touch,
and your greeting; a gentle forehead kiss;;
create a home.
My home is wherever you are.
Wherever you are to welcome me in, hold me tight, and kiss me gently.
Feeling safe is what creates a home, and you are my home.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC
Storms never bothered me as a child.
I use to love to put on my bathing suit,
barefoot, and jump in all those puddles...
Mom would make me come in if it was lightning.
But with lightning came thunder,
so I would run inside at the first crack.
My mom use to tell me that it was
the Angels bowling.
I'm sure every mother told there kid that.
I know I did...
I loved storms when we were out to our cottage.
Because the waves were raging, and I remember
standing outside with my dad and all the
neighbor guys, discussing this storm. With
a beer in there hand. I never had fear back then.
When my kids were little and a storm was a brewing.
We lived in a duplex, with no basement and
we would take the kids, and our bird down
to our neighbors basement.... I still wasn't
afraid of storms... the kids, and parents we all
played pool, some dance...it was like a party...no fear...
Now, I live by the weather mans report.
I have a program from each tv station on my phone,
and the weather station, even an app for tornados.
But it's not fun any more... I don't go run in the rain
barefoot, or jump in puddles, but I try to keep a bottle
of wine in the frig, a snack or two, and set stuff up
in the bathroom for two....me and my dog buddy.
I'm in the tub, he curls around the toilet...
no fear... well maybe a little bit...
by ~ judy
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:17 AM UTC
There were always so many lizards and cat statues made out of china. But at some point what started to matter more were the boys on the pubescent school bus yelling obscenities and stealing ****** kisses from girls stuffing their bra and being too cool to wear Limited Too. It became difficult to imagine the lizard cage behind the duplex, a chain-linked refrigerator box, when there was a school dance to be embarrassed at while forming dance circles, soda can in hand. Then standing on the corner waiting for my dad to take me home before any of the late night talk shows aired.
Flash-forward: A blow-up air mattress in the middle of the living room at five in the morning and we were high.
We’re growing up from: the VW that smelled of crayons,
skipping class to go to the library downtown,
the greasy spoon diner,
the Goodwill,
fall outs, anxiety, lorazepam, writing ****** poetry,
getting popsicles from whole foods and eating them in the park during winter.
The sun’s lavender light peaked through the closed blinds while the satisfaction of making out with a boy who likes boys felt as good as the realization that girls don’t always have to like boys either.
There’s a chance I could still catch a lizard.
And yea it’s cliché, but **** happens and things change.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 4:59 PM UTC
I have in my hand , the very dollar bill , was a cash settlement for postage stamps in Chattahoochee Hills , same bill that fed the Kitty at a strip joint in Dallas , bought a Charms Sucker at a bowling alley in Texarkana ! Helped pay the rent on a duplex in Santa Fe , went toward the water bill in Reno , Nevada. On its way to New Orleans , handed off by a trucker in Abilene . Handed over to a **** dealer from Chattanooga , wound up in a offering plate in Kalamazoo , Michigan !
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
garden hose apartment duplex
garden hose apartment duple
garden hose apartment dupl
garden hose apartment dup
garden hose apartment du
garden hose apartment d
garden hose apartment
garden hose apartmen
garden hose apartme
garden hose apartm
garden hose apart
garden hose apar
garden hose apa
garden hose ap
I messed it up
garden hose a
garden hose
garden hos
garden **
garden h
garden
garde
gard
gar
ga
g
ga
gay
***
freaky
freak
frea
fre
Free
Free c
Free co
Free col
Free Coll
Free colle
Free colleg
Free college
Mar 9, 2020
Mar 9, 2020 at 10:23 AM UTC
It’s in the linear plane
The one that buzzes
Directly above the brow
It’s heavy and foul
Sludge like and slow
Dense with no flow
It is unappealing in color
With a dull toxic glow
It must be rid of
By placing an amulet
Made of Amethyst stone
Upon the glabella
For many days in a row
Until a duplex conduit
Is understood between
Cosmos and soul
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
There's no regard for your feelings when my heart is in charge.
"You feel the same!"
It's a lie we let me live with.
I'd be okay with going into cardiac arrest over you, anyway.
My brain thinks you're magnificent-
or perhaps horrendous...
Nonetheless, you seldom leave my mind.
I've considered purchasing another mattress
(my heart wants to know if we can share it).
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 6:36 AM UTC
Parallel tables down this neighbourhood street
I can see some of them from distant windows
One is vacated
One is full, people buzzing about
Hot food coming out of the kitchen onto the table
Bubbling, boiling soups, freshly tossed salads
Glasses brimming with new stories
Then, to the right, a person
Sits at their table alone,
One dim light, eating from a bowl
My guess is cereal.
Stories, stories, stories
Troubling questions
Awkward silence
He’s meeting the parents today
So, he fidgets and taps his feet
She’s telling them she got into college
He just got home from his best friend’s funeral
The other house is dark,
They always have dinner at six
But today, the lights are off
Trip? No.
They’re saying goodbye to grandma in the hospital
That couple in the duplex
I think it’s their delivery date
There’s that one house,
Everyone eats at a different time
Mom, daughter, and second daughter rotate washing dishes
but the older one just got married
it looks like they are still settling into the newfound gaps
her brother left today
a house that used to be loud and crowded
now, two empty nesters
they never eat at the table anymore
they put on the TV
with their plates
because the couch is a smaller space to fill
than these dining room tables
Nov 17, 2023
Nov 17, 2023 at 2:54 PM UTC
Sacred Soul stuck in a profane Body
Insane Id inflicts anguish on scared Ego
Man finds trouble with doubled nature
Both Angel and Beast want what's best
But both can not be satisfied at once
This division against ourselves
Can only offer suffering in our lives
So man does the civilized thing
Obliged to be sad inside and depressed
And represses those impolite appetites
That contaminates consciousness
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 6:53 PM UTC
There's a woman seeing much trouble
but she's always grateful of this life
She could be living in miseries and pain
but she never forgets to smile
She knows that life is a **** duplex
yes, she believes in life's duality
The yin and yang, the bad and good, black or white
she could be sad or happy
But such reality of life, one cannot change
but understand and accept
For if she will live with objections
would it give her peace and won't regret?
Oh human, the war within oneself
must be treated with care so you'll understand
That life's gift after winning a battle
is best enjoyed when you don't always demand.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 6:09 AM UTC
I could buy the
ticket,
and I could throw
away
the key
I could sell all of my jewelry and my rare
mahogany
I could make it
in Vienna,
I could make it in
Peru
I could hitch a ride to anywhere and
still not know what
to do
I could stay inside
this duplex
on this couch missing
a spring
I swear I could forget it all
to discover everything.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 8:48 PM UTC
A yarn of angels play, loose-braided
Blazing wings have dawn blockaded
Devil's duplex dance undoes their knots
Ropes their oath has plaited rot
Mannacles enslave perception
Realms of sight dulled to a dimension
The fallen world a ruin, grim
What are you doing seraphim?
We must throw off this darkening curse
Feel the irrepressible light of the universe
Yield to the cosmic flow of love
Make peace on earth, as above
Heal the agony of a world,
Then Chaos which has now unfurled
Will be compelled to give its' way
To reason's day and harmony
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 6:44 PM UTC
Civil servants
caustic charms.
Forever Old School
Duplex stairways.
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 1:22 PM UTC
Underneath a duplex in it's basement a wide assortment of pipes and appliances are mounted everywhere. Some pipes hang from the ceiling disconnected. Holes stuffed with insulation in the concrete foundation. The musician may sit and listen to the sounds of rushing water, boilers and furnaces kicking on and find music in it. The poet may find beauty in the mystery of it all and mention it as a metaphorical line in an upcoming piece
But when the plumber walks down
he sees it for what it truly is. He understands the sounds, the disconnections, the holes left behind by absent appliances, what goes where and why. Inside his mind he sees every movement of every machine, can pick any problem out of sounds and gauges. Imagine having an acute understanding of the world around you and how to work with it. I'm starting to think being a dreamer is more of a coping mechanism than anything.
I'd say I aspire to be a plumber
But I'd just be another poet making another stupid analogy.
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 2:21 PM UTC
Its been 4 years since I have been on this site many new changes both here and in life.
I own my own home a rental duplex at that. I got a new job with good pay and a union. I have been to the ER a few times for health problems but I wont sing the blues I'm still here.
Covid-19 breaks the US and world great depression 2021 is just around the corner.
I'm at the tail end of my 20's 30 is coming up fast so many things I have done. Yet so many more that may never happen will see about that.
HERE is for more tomorrow than yesterdays more bright sky's than rainy days more pace and harmony for all humanity!!!!
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 11:23 AM UTC
the cities
redraw their borders and
fragment their spaces
into small cubes:
apartments,
studios,
and duplex houses.
and you,
with a thousand windows open
in windows,
your emoji hands,
and your microphone muted.
Feb 23, 2021
Feb 23, 2021 at 9:14 AM UTC
Once upon a time
in a tiny kingdom
called Beautiful Water
there lived a silly faux monarch and his fair maiden
in their castle aka duplex
No mote, no portcullis
but one groovy fence about a humble abode
littered with rooms
ill-appointed and dingy
but with affectionate wainscoting in spades
Nonetheless, they would often rue
the lack of spoil within those walls
'twas an age of shoddy floor-space
like a page with no margins
hence, the royal bedchamber was more a sleep shed
Trips out of town, no doubt
called for something fancy
a room with a view
a bed fit for a king
to stretch out without bother
But a funny thing happened on the way
to forming a quorum
they both pined
for the cramped quarters
left behind
The little bumps
and rubs in the night
came to be a comfort
a way of saying
"Hello, I know you're there and I like it that way"
Jan 16, 2020
Jan 16, 2020 at 7:35 PM UTC
Last-ting Pleasures (Leonard Cohen)
“Morning coffee on the balcony of this old duplex, the cat at my feet, and a couple of biscuits. Notebook near by. No one coming over.“
Leonard Cohen
<>
aging with graces saved from so many spectacular failures, I took droplets of wisdom where they were free to drink, yet
the best, were the most costly, for which you never end paying
but here I sit, well traveled, in Los Angeles sunshine, do my calculations, my final preparations, memorizing the blessings
so they flow easy, no stumbling, unbefitting a poet-writer lover
obligations diminished, bills paid, goodbyes said and spent, so long Marianne, lines of jewish buddhists wisdom seekers not too long, a few women come, last looks, a reminiscence for themselves
lovers seeking preservation, a signatory on their diaries, proofs, of what I know no longer know to state, sated, the statuary
sentence almost served, and last scribbles, to notebook dispatched
It is His Will, and yet here I am, asking forgiveness, as tradition demands and more, understanding, for it was all transcribed into praise of You and your god-sparked creatures, ah, bon chance, until we meet again, bring your robe and tallit, let us recite psalms
for if there was ever a wilder king, finer poet, lusting for life and god, all of us just birds on the wire, gambling which course to fly, where to, so waiting patient, resolution of the only remaining unanswered question, who by fire?
anyone, each of us, who first asked ourselves why not! before we ever thought,
why?
Oct 31, 2020
Oct 31, 2020 at 10:59 AM UTC
This town gives small gifts
if one drives down the proper
avenues or alleys.
Joe Rubidoux couldn’t have fathomed
some of his village’s future
backward advances.
With a fondness, perhaps misguided,
the soul-forming streets, rife with potholes
full of memories and busted tie-rods are
sought.
This sour Saint speaks
as the miles
of moonlight slide by and play
their personal history slideshow
just below the visor.
It is thought to turn left;
heading down 4th,
to where the wire baskets
were filled with hand cut potatoes,
and the bellies of barnyard birds
were plated up for joyous devouring.
Sadly, those baskets are hung to rust,
and those worn tables and vinyl seat cushions
are home to things more wild than the eyes
of the boys that ate gizzards fresh
from hot grease,
sopping it all up with white bread.
The sky begins to purple,
like the clover in those abandoned lots
near to where the coal trains still chug
down the line.
Places that made a man
are passed,
remembered as though
part of someone else’s
life.
The yellow paint and brown shutters
of that chopped-up duplex bring a sigh
that is as heavy as the coal cars that clatter by.
The need for what was,
what had to be,
is discussed
and proven to be for
good and all.
Because the man
behind the wheel
lives inside this municipality
seeing not mediocrity,
but marvels that reside
unnoticed as the miles
and miles of moonlight
continue to slide by.
***
- JBClaywell
© P&ZPublications; 2017
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 4:00 PM UTC