"esteban" poems
"God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve."
But what if God did? What if I showed you
the lost book in that cramped hand some call Moses',
right to left (you read Hebrew, right?), the Book of Steve?
Stefan, if you're Orthodox. Esteban
if you also worship the ****** of Guadalupe,
but never mind those dark madonnas. The Book of Steve:
it's much like the rest of the Pentateuch, you'll recognize
the style, except that it was before Genesis 1
when Steve became a living soul. A lively, friendly soul:
when those animals came questing, Steve was thrilled.
He scratched their ears as he named them, puled
their ticks, asked them what they thought they should be called.
So he was scratching and chatting, naming away,
when up came Adam (Yahweh had been practicing men).
*"Hey, dude." "Hey, Adam. You think this looks
like a crocodile?" "I dunno. More like a fox?"*
They had a few beers (Yahweh's work of the day),
named five kinds of ants: Steve got carpenter,
leaf-cutter, sugar; Adam took fire and soldier.
Probably they made love, probably a lot (the world
Was young then), but the Book of Steve is demure;
Moses, or someone, drew the curtain of discretion.
When the curtain comes up, the snake
Still has brief feet, but Adam is changing the names
To better ones, and Steve’s not there. It seems
There were complaints. Stave talked to much, always on
About feelings, food, the slant of the light; sometimes
he wanted to be on top; he took the remkote, and didn’t
give it back when Adam glare. And his chest wasn’t nearly
enough like a pillow. It ws all too much.
The end of the book is torn out; there are marks of fire.
No one knows who defiled the Book of Ssteve,
But in some stories it is said that Eden has other quadrants
And that Steve is in one of them.
Stevek and the snakes with feet, and other people
Who missed the next book: the roc preening its iridescent plumes,
The unicorn lipping apples, the manticore haveint a dustabth.
They say that somewhere among the leaves of western Eden
was found a helpmeet for Steve, who was not fruitful,
who did not multiply, who had no dominion over the earth.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
When my Dad used to come up in my face
And smile at me As a baby
I used to push him away
Give me my space
Jheez!
And at aged 3 when I used to rest my head
On lil blondies shoulder as we watched tv
In nursery
He would push me off constantly,
First taste of rejection
Jheez!
And as a pre teen
When that little **** Esteban was showin off and being mean
Got my brother in a headlock till he couldn't breath
Grabbed him off, pushed him over a wall as I screamed even though he was older and much bigger than me
Made me so angry!
First time I laid hands on someone in defence of my family
Haven't had to do it since, thankfully
Shock of me switching actually made him come up after and say sorry
Jheez!
As a Teen, chillin in the park, all sunny
When this lil kid who looks half asleep
Cycling in his dressing gown
comes up to me
Asking if I wanna buy some ****
Pushing drugs?!
Someone should be pushing him on a ****** swing , he's only a baby!
Makes my heart bleed
Jheez!
And every ****** mornin
As I'm getting to where I need to be
Getting pushed onto this train
By impatient imbeciles
When there is no need
There's another one comin in 3!
So why am I hovering under someones smelly armpit all awkwardly?
Jheez!
**All this pushing, all this pulling
this game of tug of war,
really puts me on ****** edge,
I really can't take no more.
But city life is city life
Jheezus you know the score!**
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 8:26 PM UTC
Stabbing
microwave film tops
forks & one minute
standing
impatience
picking at his lips
marbled insipid midnight
on ovals
pleasant, reaching
inside
black duffle coats
right handed rural esteban
a bunch of oddfellows
lifted up
excursion
hugging abdomen
with an almost
cro-magnon embodiment
with no one to talk to
or company to speak of
brilliant matted darting
causing a spillage
loose putrid peppermint
buboes & femurs
have no presence
has no presence
burrowed
momentary malebogia
denizen
99' strange amounts
clean lived war memorials
the monetised crucifix
the earth is alive
shapeshifting, spasmodic
pleasant pleasant sound
loose dripping glue
chestnut hair
cider sipped walls
frosty jacks & contains
foamed **** arrayed myriad
sirens prune
telepath
twelve fragments
Approaching
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC