"evanston" poems
I have a blue blanket, it looks corduroy but it's synthetic polynesian cotton.
Considered by some to be polyester. After the ninth year of ownership I started
Telling house guests it had always been mine; but secretly knowing it came from my
Ex Kristina who left it with some of her other things in 2005 in my grand deluxe Evanston
Apartment. In like some really awesome way, I could fold the corners together to see little blocks
Of the Universe form cubes in the fourth dimension and gain a better understanding of my own
Little black shmata. Top drawer, white dresser, in the back with the leftover girlfriend underwear between
My first ever stuffed animal dog/rabbit.
Amazing how these thinned and frayed azure threads had held so many midnight conversations Together- maybe fifteen other girls had nuzzled with Kristina's blanket. Last year the guilt set in. You Watch a girlfriend, say, ratchet through your room naked for something soft to put over her to listen to
Some half-stanza from the new Yeats critical and that, do-I-tell-her feeling comes over you. Blue Polyester really had a way with women. My last serious crush, the one of six months, the one from the place that was close to where I worked six days a week, would you believe, she had not interest in that heap of thread, under my pillows spying on us sleep for twenty-four long weeks.
"Drop in the bucket" the sixty-year-olds say. I say, bring me my ******* fourth dimension blocks and cubes ************ I want to visit the existential, I want to experience the hoo-ra and Ga-Ga those kids throw around on Milwaukee waiting for $150 NBA slippers.
Wednesday is my day for telling the truth.
2:00p.m. sitting in the front of her alizarin El Dorado.
"I have something I have to tell you," I said, my mouth practically filled with marbles as I barely could Utter the words: it's not going to work out.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:51 AM UTC
Tryna brave the belly of the beast
But this enemy of me
Has got hands-
I’ve never metaphor for anxiety
Like this one
Imposter syndrome-
I was only a dark forest away
from who I needed to be
But feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy
Are twisting clouds so forebodingly
Mara’s army fires arrows
Raining streams of self-consciousness
Like I wasn’t ready to self destruct
on impact -
detonation
I laugh and share memes of self-deprecation
Social media the new god
Where we worship ourselves
By constantly trying to impress
everyone else
Venmo me Dopamine tributes
With the truth in a cave of
depression and
Isolation
Maybe Holly’s right
And I do need to be here
She shines the light
On the darkness
In the hospital wing
5th floor at Evanston
But I’m afraid I’ve grown too codependent
On this astral plane
I’ve projected
And romanticized
these Ambien nights
Only to awake neglected
Screaming out her name
In sleep paralysis
On a dark night-
When I’m manic
I try to live it out like I’m in a movie
Projecting inner struggles
As external conflicts
To make the scene more interesting
Until I’m in this final battle alone like Odysseus
Lost all my friends when the monster ate our ship and I took em for granted caught up
Between a rock and a hard place-
Depressed and Hyper-sexualization
when spring is here again
I’m in the first act dip
edging the ******
Stimulating the simulation
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 3:43 AM UTC
Wild Dreams Of A New Beginning
There's a breathless hush on the freeway tonight
Beyond the ledges of concrete
restaurants fall into dreams
with candlelight couples
Lost Alexandria still burns
in a billion lightbulbs
Lives cross lives
idling at stoplights
Beyond the cloverleaf turnoffs
'Souls eat souls in the general emptiness'
A piano concerto comes out a kitchen window
A yogi speaks at Ojai
'It's all taking pace in one mind'
On the lawn among the trees
lovers are listening
for the master to tell them they are one
with the universe
Eyes smell flowers and become them
There's a deathless hush
on the freeway tonight
as a Pacific tidal wave a mile high
sweeps in
Los Angeles breathes its last gas
and sinks into the sea like the Titanic all lights lit
Nine minutes later Willa Cather's Nebraska
sinks with it
The sea comes over in Utah
Mormon tabernacles washed away like barnacles
Coyotes are confounded & swim nowhere
An orchestra onstage in Omaha
keeps on playing Handel's Water Music
Horns fill with water
ans bass players float away on their instruments
clutching them like lovers horizontal
Chicago's Loop becomes a rollercoaster
Skyscrapers filled like water glasses
Great Lakes mixed with Buddhist brine
Great Books watered down in Evanston
Milwaukee beer topped with sea foam
Beau Fleuve of Buffalo suddenly become salt
Manhatten Island swept clean in sixteen seconds
buried masts of Amsterdam arise
as the great wave sweeps on Eastward
to wash away over-age Camembert Europe
manhatta steaming in sea-vines
the washed land awakes again to wilderness
the only sound a vast thrumming of crickets
a cry of seabirds high over
in empty eternity
as the Hudson retakes its thickets
and Indians reclaim their canoes
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
Getting her naked
shaving ***** hairs
Feeling her dripping
Way down there
Hearing her whisper
An ******** sigh
Watching her finger
Go deep inside
Watch heSociety's Blame
I heard a girl crying
Do you know her name
They brought her in bleeding
It's bringing down the rains
I hear the neighbors crying
The middle of the streets
If she should pass away
I beg don't take away sweet
There must be a change
From the criminals own mind
We'd rather see them die
Then losing an innocence own time.
By,
John P. Pierre
Evanston IL
©Monday, July 27, 2015
N
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC
Chicago’s pall, leave behind.
Evanston’s smog,
still, a hope. Lone telescope –
through the fog, Faint light find,
Andromeda’s call.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
It lost it's meaning
Their were drinking wine
Their thoughts of confusion
Of tarnished old turpentine
So dizzy and queasy
Their sick in bed
Sooner not so late
They'll all be dead
It doesn't excuse them
They sealed their fate
They all be dead
Sealing their own fate
By,
John P. Pierre
Evanston, IL ©Saturday, August 01, 2015 on http://www.hellopoetry.com
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 9:16 AM UTC
The body is willing,
The mind is weak.
Do it on Camera,
I'll send by tweet.
So nasty and rude,
And simple as rhyme.
You'll go down bad,
While reeking of turpentine.
Remember all the bars,
You use to go?
While introducing you to,
One of their hoes.
And his favorite bar,
Was shut down too.
Well those under-aged students,
Boy were they *******
By,
John P. Pierre
Evanston IL
Copyright 10/25/2016
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC
The things we say and things we do,
To live to breathe or die so blue.
We strive to encourage to light the way,
Even though we know we can not stay.
But hearts aren't measured by how we love,
By our family and friends Earth and above.
The wishes I dream oh yes by me,
Are for young ones that's destined to be.
And acts so petty to make some fall,
Is to be cursed by a humbled wall.
To grasp the mind that obscures the heart,
Is the very thing that tears us apart.
By,
John Pierre
Evanston,IL copyright 8/01/16
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 10:08 PM UTC