"foldable" poems
My tummy box is broken
Said the man to the spoon
******** rhymings
To satisfy good tidings
Fake smiles to satisfy
Good people
Satisfied with what I make
Dissatisfied with what I take
Broken satisfaction
A one-man factioned
We all suffer from
Insecurities
So take what’s best of me.
I seem to be the worst at what I do.
Can I visit weekly? Is that cool by You?
I can make a fool of myself at least once a week.
Can you turn so I can smack Your other cheek?
4th wall broken, here’s a token of my gratitude.
I play the fool for a feeling that’s earthly
Wait with baited breath, I’m almost done.
FBI shopping, lets find a bomb to blow.
Legalize this to make me okay with it.
Let’s party it up to make me feel better.
A good grind to get my mind off things.
Opposing the opposable
Folding to the foldable
All I am seems worthless
All I am seems ridiculous.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 7:49 AM UTC
Warm coffee, foldable chairs, and wholly sounds--
maybe this is the way to spend your free Wednesday nights.
At least then there will be an escape from calculus and combustion reactions.
Here pencils are used to write a different language,
one with a beat.
Between toe taps and smiles there's a place for the music to go.
It seeps in through the molded cracks and bounces around
like the acoustics.
Hold fast and don't blink, take it all in.
Go home and hum to yourself.
Sit down at the piano and remember the night spent
with the kind local stars
hoping to hear their sound
until the night breaks.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 11:22 PM UTC
I wake up as She
and she's auditioning soon;
vying for a part no one can play
but everyone auditions for anyway.
And so we all sit in those
steel foldable chairs that never
get folded back into their original
form, because the bodies always
keep them warm.
The original selves
long for something else to be;
troubled souls in search for
broken homes; like the hidden
shadows of the known unknown.
I am her lips as they
part, close together
like the jaws of a shark,
reciting lines back to the director
crooked and parallel, aligned
waves of soft sounds; they reach
the peaks of receptacle body language
only to suddenly fall back down
barely scathing the director's emotions.
The director sees that there is talent
that lies within the woman;
I am her, and I was
a father of three darling daughters
not too long ago...
But I stand before the director
as her, and there are others
patiently waiting,
like the anchored piranhas
of the binary forest,
the Stygian vultures
of the neon desert;
and they vouch for
each other's safety
until they have landed
the Oscar award winning
scene; the all white cast
beams like the headlights
of an oncoming car.
Their hands free of guilt
washing the darkness away
from my rising star, my ship
no longer corroded brown
but assimilated, organized,
gentrified;
a man redesigned,
retrofitted and recombined
standing before the petrified
live audience as Her
in an ocean blue
dress;
a blood capsule
ready to burst with
finite increments
of happiness.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 2:37 AM UTC
Life in the shape of gummy bears, Jell-O shots, foldable chairs, and Xanax.
Bending palm tree leaves into pillow cases, codeine mirrors only show you the faces of everyone who's scared of you.
Watch the pink drip from my lips onto the floor, coating the the tile in what it means to be truly lost.
(Hide me away for another day, I beg of you, the sun sets in the wrong direction these days.)
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 11:58 PM UTC
on your nineteenth birthday
you started keeping a smile
locked at the edges of your mouth
like a scared man hides a gun in his pocket.
it's been so long
since your brother's told you he loves you,
and you start to hate him
though you visit his grave every year.
at twenty-one you're armed
with flowers in your pockets
a foldable chair and a pack of cigarettes-
"just in case he needs me to stay the night."
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 9:02 PM UTC
Manage me,
I am a mess,
Swept under the rug of yesterday’s home improvement,
A whimsical urge tossed aside for the easy reassurance of home and comfort.
I am the photograph tucked away as a book-mark,
In a book left, half unread,
Once reopened to find memories crawling back into peripheral sight,
Faded, creased, and lonely.
I long to be admired,
Long to be held, torn, and laughed at,
Laughed with,
Like a distant relative or an old friend breathing in their last breath.
I missed the moment when time collapsed and memory was erased,
Replaced by finicky social experiments,
Lost in the blur of intoxication,
****** through multi-colored bendy-straws,
Making way for a spinning world where hub-caps stood still,
But our vision didn’t.
If I could leave you with only one thing,
It would be small, foldable, and made from trees,
With a few careless words,
Scribbled in blue;
Take a moment to learn me,
Take a moment to love me,
Because I need your love to live,
And without it,
I am nothing
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
Was the world ever tame,
was the work of mankind ever done,
did we believe we'ld watch the world
work better with our intervention,
our flood preventions failing, time after time,
then came the fuel from eons too distant, as time flees,
we trust the expositors, setting knowledge in foldable
orders of value, secrets worth keeping to use in consort.
Having witnessed the intention declared, the prophet,
bows and backs away, laughing to himself, happy hunting,
here I come, seeking something I may distantly need,
not now, though, ghostly ghucking surrealism seems
certainly, this pose, the position I hold, paid for repose,
bending certain assumptions into gumptions taken on odds,
you bet I can't make myself let you read my mind.
I win.
Sep 17, 2023
Sep 17, 2023 at 3:49 PM UTC
It's a parade
Wobbly heat waves
Children and colours
Canteen food
And the snapping sounds of foldable plastic chairs
Little athletics day
Here he comes
Handkerchief on his head, tucked into his sunglasses
Mum never came
He could be harsh
My sister cried once
There was pressure to win
I never did
I was afraid I'd be clotheslined by that finishing line
Be my guest Flash
I wasn't fast, but I wasn't slow
This is me
Relay leg no.3
Baton in my hand
Whistling thru the air
(Missing you, missing me)
Round the bend
Furthest from the crowd
Running thru heat waves
Angling like a fish, oh yeah
(Missing you, missing me)
I asked for your help
Speaking to that place in my mind that doesn't change
You gave me every weapon for this world
And I still don't know what to do
I wasn't at the funeral
I was far away, making myself out of sand at high tide
Thank you for everything
The way they remembered you, how you made peace come true, I never knew, or maybe I did
This is me
Relay leg no.3
Baton in my hand
Whistling thru the air
(Missing you, missing me)
Round the bend
Furthest from the crowd
Running thru heat waves
Angling like a fish, oh yeah
(Missing you, missing me)
It was really blooming when you left
The police man and his bunny were making fun of your emotions by then
Playing substitute friends
There was something biting that wouldn't stop
But you were appreciated by us
And still are
So many memories
This is me
Relay leg no.3
Baton in my hand
Whistling thru the air
(Missing you, missing me)
Round the bend
Furthest from the crowd
Running thru heat waves
Angling like a fish, oh yeah
(Missing you, missing me)
Feb 14, 2022
Feb 14, 2022 at 7:03 AM UTC
Manic energy
Heads ******* banging
Aggressive freedom of the senses
Happiness plus hatred
liberation of this pent up energy
Double kick bass loudly, sound breaking
Fast paced high squealing notes
Stop.
Down breaks the hellish tempo
It’s time to smash faces,
Break bones in many places
A circular ritual of anger and sweat.
A trotting stampede of mindless freaks
All of them a ball of feelings hard like bricks
Surprise!
Concussion blast
Downed metal head comrade
Near a ****** foldable chair
Bleeding through his brain dome
Coughing asking for a still
memento of himself
Music halts and dust settles.
Uno, dos, tres, cuatro
Next title cueing
Freaks all cheering
Smells like **** blood and sweat drippings
Feedback through the amps.
wall of death opens briskly
all hell breaks loose
Feral eyes moving quickly
Our Viking hearts
Fight for dignity
Or die honorably
valkiries above the mosh pit
and a glimpse of Odin
Hammer smashed face.
club swung to my back
Whiplash.
I woke up in my backyard.
Sore back, ribs broken
And a beer in my hand.
Hell of a night man
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 1:46 PM UTC