"goddammit" poems
So I’m marrying this young girl, see,
it’s the second time round.
My first wife died and
I’ve been struggling and drowning.
So I'm clutching the life raft
of this girl who is beautiful and young,
who’s romantic and sure of her ground,
and she and her family believe
that I can breathe and survive again.
Me? Can I remember how to be gentle and kind to them?
It was luck. I was lucky before.
Because now I'm a veteran of the thousand campaigns
and I’ve bayed at the moon, see,
then I hunted with The Beast.
And anyway, my first wife and I
********* her name is Lorayne!)
suffered, and then suffocated
before our love soared so high.
Then we danced like fireflies, fabulously,
until the future ended forever.
So how can this new girl
find ecstasy with me and, and,
you know, live happily ever after,
which is such an impossible dream,
and how can I handle all this ******* purity
and innocence and beauty and youth
and flawless skin and fairy tale stuff
when I’m so gnarled
and twisted and knotted?
You see, I'm actually deeply ashamed.
In spite of my much vaunted campaigns,
I'm really a coward.
I'm afraid I can't drag myself back and do this again.
Can we possibly become fireflies and dance in the flame?
Yes, yes, I know.
We'll swear to love and to honor and to obey
in sickness and in health
in richness and in poorness
until death do us part.
Though this formula's too cute. It doesn't mention the pain.
But there's no other option. I must try to rise up again,
and alright, once more, I'll call on the flame.
So I'll cast out my demons and force them away.
Somehow, I'll hold those monsters at bay to give you
the light and the love you say
is still there, everywhere.
You are wide-eyed and oh, so naive.
But I desperately want to believe you.
I need you.
Oh god, I hope we can love without fear.
Mike T Minehan
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 10:28 PM UTC
like red lion parts
crotch rocket
nut cup
anything done behind
a dumpster in the dark
yes, always
because you never liked how
light peeked through my thin
hair
or how I squinted
my eyes when I kissed you
“Just close them all the way
*********
of course, I obliged
anything to keep you
away from your mother
anything to keep you
out of the garage
the sulfur smell
the demons in your
drinking marble
but god,
the vibration
the car peeling out
on the driveway and
“Here take this.”
all of me reminded you
of her
all of me
“Rest, darling. Rest.”
and every time the night
ended with unclothed gin
bedspreads like
forts and painted
walls
“Go **** youself.”
and all was lost
my body
my grief
10 pounds lighter
sweat soaked through
the carpet
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 9:29 AM UTC
I’m not alone and I don’t have company either.. I’m a wandering soul looking for a place to rest. A place to sit, sleep, eat, lie, ********* Somethin’! anything! Just a place for the weary traveler to gather his thoughts and ease his mind. Hell, just a place to be normal I guess.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC
I saw a picture on the internet of a sign
That said “Welcome to Amsterdam. When it’s hot, please dress for the body you have,
Not the body you want. Thanks"
In the vicinity was a large woman wearing a pink crop top and leggings and the
Image was captioned
“Look who didn’t follow the rules!”
I assumed this rogue internet commenter assumed that this woman,
This beautiful, curvy, confident woman,
Didn’t want the body she had.
Why is it always assumed that fat people hate their bodies?
I’m fat and this IS the body I want *********
I love this body!
This body has ******* privilege!
This body has enough melanin to tan easily in summer but not enough
That I’m going to be unjustly persecuted for my skin tone.
This body doesn’t get too cold in the winter.
This body has a home and a family and food to eat!
This body is ABLE to run and jump and walk wherever I want
This body is disease free.
This body can fit into a variety of clothing and look good.
I mean it isn’t perfect -
This body has had an eating disorder.
This body has self harm scars,
This body doesn’t always feel like it’s the right gender
This body has lived through 4 school district changes, a cross country move,
Depression, anxiety, a suicide attempt, high school graduation,
Bullying, finding out that I’m queer, finding out that I’m loved,
My first week of college, 16 days of living on a hiking trail
Thinking I’m ugly and realizing I’m beautiful
But I still want this body!
It’s the only one I have
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC
My home. My safe place!
My sanctuary of peace and calm!
Deaf as I am, I'm glad to have friends,
When someone tries to steal from my mom!
So we kept watch, over her van,
Seeing the shadows of an unknown man,
We're suited and booted; my knife
And his gun,
And we're ready to take him,
Or force him to run!
********* all, I have work
In the morning,
But I'll be ****** if we don't
Send him a warning!
Our shout brought him out,
And we watched him run,
To go steal elsewhere,
But he'll have no fun!
Not here; not now.
At my grandmother's house.
So I stand and I shake,
Eyes wide open; awake,
A knife at my side, with
My rage as my guide.
Hell no! Not here!
Not now!
My home. My safe place,
My sanctuary of calm!
So I await the coming sunrise;
No one ***** with my mom!
Apr 15, 2023
Apr 15, 2023 at 3:50 AM UTC
I fell in love like the way you fall asleep: like getting hit by a ******* bus that knocks you out of your senses and In that moment I swear we were infinitely in love but ********* you left me on my own. I know love and lust don't always keep the same company but I find great companionship in your eyes and I'm quite hoping you'll stick around. May the odds be ever in our favor of falling in love again in the empty house we once called mine where i'm divergent and I can only be controlled by my fears (of losing you) that send me recoiling in your arms every night; I solemnly swear that I am up to no good and I spend every second wishing you'd love me like I love you.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
For a moment, right now, pretend that forgiveness will never feel like taking a bet. That the phrase, "I love you," Is not just another form of turrets. Pretend that you've got a pocket heavy with change and you walk like a wishing well wind-chime. And you've got a nickel in there for every time you cried for something. And your chance to change is as easy as flicking your thumb. Launching a coin into a pool of water. Pretend that you've got a penny melted and molded from the iron in your blood. Pretend that that wish will come true. Pretend that I just put mine down on a bet on you. Double or nothing, because ********* kid, to me, you mean something. And I don't mean any big life success. This is deathbed memories type **** Who was there when it mattered type **** Pizza on the car hood when the mice are asleep in the oven and the birds have nested in the old stove burners. Finding safety in a hammock held up by the corners of a mouth. Warmth in arms when you realized how cold it was actually going to be down south. For a moment right now pretend. That you've got a friend with a body made of drawbridge and hands strong enough to close it when you need to. Eyes like a moat. A blanket quilted from your lover's muscles. For a moment right now pretend that that friend isn't me. It's you. Forget God. Forget finding forgiveness and love there. On the inside that friend is you. Making penny bets like a Philippino woman in the smoking section of a casino. Double or nothing. 50/50. Pretend now that I'll be there too. Tossing coins in a well. Wishing only the best for you.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
I am standing in the waiting room
of the Coronary Care Unit
and I am counting because numbers
are the only things feeling real to me today.
Ten steps from the door. Nine hours into the day.
Eight times I have already said ********* under my breath.
Room number seven. Six ways that a heart can step out of rhythm.
Five people in a family that might soon be reduced to four.
Three cardiologists that cannot tell me what the hell has happened.
Rumor has it that two of those six arrhythmias are fatal. You have had one.
One door separating me from one person
laying in one room with one ventricle
that does not, will not, and cannot
pump.
We all carry someone inside of us—
someone that climbs up our spine and sleeps
on a hammock stretched across our rib cage.
Carry me and day after day
I will be your second heart,
beating outside of your chest,
reminding you of all the reasons you have
to cut yours out.
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
My mistakes don't make me stupid
My mistakes are cries for help.
So help me, *********
Don't put me through hell.
I'm scared to get it wrong
So I don't try to get it right
I don't want to deal with you
Instead of sleeping at night.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 9:33 PM UTC
Sweetbitter kiss caressed
lips. esophagus. stomach. chest.
inaccessible 'till death.
untouchable--so close to the chest.
unable to put out fires, burns
will have to rest
where they lie smoldering, watching
eyes walk bye.
I close my I.
Carry me, now--not home
not to neverland
not over the rainbow
Just carry me softly in sweet-smelling acidic things.
--a little corrosion does a girl a world of good--
sing me songs, wolf-in-sheeps-clothes, that my mother used to
and bring me gifts on angel-dusted wings,
nothingness never before made greater feeling.
Our lives themselves strived for meaning while we strived for the reason for being
the way the great cold faceless hands created
our unyielding . . . softness
separate from and not unlike a feather
equal both in whimsical light, lack of value, disease and helplessness
great beauty, plainness, and utter insignificance
Us little things are great only to those with great imagination--
light in the clouds,
break in your fever
blip on your radar
the fast one before the flatline always seems so much shorter than it should. Shorter than they said it would.
I relax
sweet relief
sweet goodnight
we'll wake up and try this one more time.
we won't get it right-- you can't
get it right
give me this bip, this sleep, this chance.
********* we'll still try--
to get it right sometime.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 1:47 AM UTC
They say nothing is louder than silence and I used to believe them
Now I know that nothing is louder than these memories that are ghostly fragments scattered all across this town
Wherever I go, I cannot outrun these ghosts of what we used to be
These memories are dusty book piles on the floor of my room
I can't reach my bed without tripping over them at least twice, but thank God that the ghosts are there to catch me
I remember when they used to ask me: why do you want to leave this country?
And my reply used to be: it's too **** cold
But ********* my hands have been frozen since those last mcflurries we shared
Even though it's mid-June, it's colder than it was a month ago
A month ago all the books were still open
My fingers just keep trembling from all the closing
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
I used to think
that they
were overreacting.
A break up can't
hurt like that.
******
It's all
true.
I reach for the
ice cream.
I must've gained
ten pounds since
I told you
I can't treat you
the way you
want to be treated.
I cannot sleep
at night
Because I
wonder if
you hurt
as much as me.
I cannot listen to
music.
Because every melody
is a memory
every lyric is
our story.
*********
We spent too
much time together.
I told you everything.
I would spend a day
with you.
And when I got home
we'd talk on the phone.
Til the sun came up.
You were the only
one
who
knew
me.
This sinking pit
in my abdomen.
The word
****
constantly on the
tip of my tongue.
The feeling of
hating you
loving you
missing you
wanting you
forgiving you
loathing you.
I cannot
help but think.
I wasted time on you...
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
You are **** and you know it
Your life is garbage and you show it
You will die soon in the ball pit
I'll leave you unsupervised for a minute
You make drugs look like candy
And you are not even worth it
When you were born I tried to prevent it
With ****** and **** and even weapons
And when you came out I said *********
You make drugs look like candy
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 5:34 PM UTC
I closed my eyes
Thinking about things.
I let my feelings flow their way
Into the palace of sunny day
And into the hues of grey.
Through the darkness I swim
Straight into the river of grim.
Sometimes I hear a melody
Trying to drain me.
"Come, come, come to me."
"Come closer, we'll set you free."
They wanted me to stay
But nah, they cannot touch me during the day.
Indeed I meet demons on my journey
And also angels guarding doors.
But I find it kinda funny
When I saw you on the shore.
I thought to myself
********* I thought I freed."*
You're like one of the final bosses of video games
That I've already killed.
I'm just a poetic gamer
Pretty sure I'm not the first.
What do you expect
A poem with blue skies and endless universe?
Maybe, but not this time.
And so I recited a cryptic verse
And watch you burn within my curse.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 2:45 AM UTC
Courtney’s old subaru stuttered and stalled as she sat at the red light. The large blue duffle bag sat ominously on the leather seat beside her. She couldn’t look at it.
God, Luci. Why did you get yourself into trouble? Courtney’s mind was racing. Ridiculous. This is ridiculous. She ****** her head to look at the bag. It was bulging.
The bag was stained and dusty, ripped along the seams in some places. Courtney’s phone rang loudly. She jumped, and held onto the steering wheel with one hand and answered.
“Hello?”She was silent as the voice on the other end talked quickly. “No, I’m not there yet... yes, I’ve got it.. No, I haven’t touched it... Yes, sir. She’s very sorry... I know, sir. Yes I’’ll tell her.” She hung up. Her face was ghost white, her palms and forehead sweaty.
Many voices argued in her head. I shouldn’t be doing this for her. She broke the law. But Luci’s your sister! That doesn’t matter. She caused the whole family a lot of pain and money. And now I’M breaking the law. What the hell?!
She looked back over at the duffle bag. It sat staring at her accusingly. She turned away. Her car was getting awfully hot, so she rolled down the windows, letting air flow through. Checking her watch, she hiccuped with surprise. Her foot slammed down on the gas, her head pressed against her seat from the quick acceleration. Her car’s enging groaned with the speed, but she couldn’t slow down.
********* Luci. I really hate you right now.*
Suddenly, she saw flashing lights and heard a sharp wailing sound behind her. A police car pulled right up behind her, speeding along, signaling for her to pull over to the shoulder of the road. Courtney’s eyes were wide with fright, and her palms were sweating profusely, leaving stains on her steering wheel. Oh god oh god oh god oh god...Ohhhh my goddddd.
Courtney slammed on her breaks, pulling over. A man in uniform knocked on her window, and she rolled it down slowly. There was a loud noise from the passenger seat and Coutney’s world slowed as she saw the duffle bag fall to the floor of the car, the zipper breaking and the contents spilling onto the carpeted floor.
The policeman’s face was horrorstruck.
“Ma’am...” He stuttered. “I’m going to have to ask you to...step out of the car and put..put your hands on your head.”
Jun 25, 2012
Jun 25, 2012 at 12:49 AM UTC
If the shackles of the bouldering social structures collapse then the stores are closed for winter. Sandy can wear last month’s Louis.
If the whole world allowed us in then you shouldn’t have procrastinated poisoning the fluorescence.
If you open the worn pages of time then you won’t die alone.
Not enough, huh?
Steely Dan the doctor Frankenstein.
“I cried when I wrote this song. Sue me if I play too long,”
Compost dreams so not long-gone?
If you have to **** yourself, then Paris becomes your drug.
Why would I intervene an ungrateful brat?
Don’t know if your veins will end up my perfect quill but if I have lose musical chairs to my father I will get you that spotlight *********
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
Your heartbreak is as cozy
As the fishbowl I still get dizzy in
After you took me off the back burner
And placed me on the counter to cool
I have to remind myself that
It is not an earthquake when you
Slam the kitchen cabinets
Even though
My world shakes
The thing about fish is
If you don’t put a lid on their bowls
They tend to jump out
Not that it is an attempt at suicide
Just that some of us were born
Without the capacity to understand
Our own limitations
Don’t tell me I can’t breathe on dry land
*********
I am a man
Which means I am too dumb to understand that
Unless I try
How am I supposed to know
That I can’t protect you from everything
Unless I try
How am I supposed to know
That I can’t love you forever
Unless I try
How am I
supposed to know
That duct tape
can’t hold everything together
Unless I try
How was I supposed to know
That we would eventually be
Nothing but gasps of air
On a damp cutting board
When the lashings of love
Have denatured the thickest parts of our skin
Maybe I don’t know how to fix everything
Or love you like a normal person
Maybe saying every thought I have out loud
Makes you uncomfortable
It makes me uncomfortable
My face isn’t always this red
My skin isn’t always this hot
I am not always this dumb
But I am a man *********
And maybe I just
Haven’t learned that yet
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 4:33 AM UTC
"You're not confident. That's what makes you unattractive"
Well ********* I tried to be
But somehow confidence is not achievable with a big body
Did I have "low self esteem" written on my forehead?
What made you think it was okay for you to criticize me?
The love I had to give was endless
And it wasn't skin-deep like yours
I mean, it wouldn't have lasted if it was...
You weren't exactly a looker
I had a big heart, but maybe big hearts only come in big bodies
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 2:01 AM UTC
The car and I,
we made our way
into the downtown
portion of this Midwest
mini-metropolis.
The sun was out,
snow melting,
and it sounded a lot
like rain as everything,
everywhere
dripped and plopped
creating a slurry of
grey road juice
that hissed under
the tires as we
passed by.
At the intersection
nearest to my friend’s
shop,
there was a refrigerator
box that had been
tossed in the street.
It,
like most things,
was on its way
to disintegration.
The red letters
that were inked to
the sides of the box
had started to run,
making the box look
to be some kind
of suburban roadkill.
I wondered briefly,
as the next holiday
rounded the corner
if the contents of the box
might be a gift.
Or…
Maybe a:
********* The fridge is shot!”
kind of unexpected
expense.
Either way,
the car and I
had other destinations
to reach.
So, I let my thoughts
wander still
as the tires turned
underneath.
“What would it be like to climb the steel stairs
on the sides of those buildings nearest
the scrapyard?”
Someday,
I’ll find out.
Surrounded by the steam
that comes from those buildings
doing whatever it is that they
might do,
I’ll smoke a cigarette,
count the pigeons that land nearby,
and think of the best way
to tell you all
about it.
***
-JBClaywell
© P&Z Publications 2018
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 5:12 PM UTC
Emptiness&horniness;&hungrinessAll;
feel the sssaame, slithrin’ like a snake baked’n fish oil
some callit desiree but I’m thinkin like I toil
hard to the soil. Y’know I need a fence era wall
to keep all them whatsabits outta here. Don’t stall
they’re coming tonight. We’ll put on the fight&boil;
some pasta & F like we oughta *•••••”’ recoil’s
the worst part about having some FunwittaGun
You think she cares bout bein in there Wait – a crow’s call
Yall be quiet now, now now, now for You my one
I’ll eat you myself, then get welth&helth;&MON-;
-EEEEEY – again with the crow, I’onno know wher its from,
maybe he smells ya, or ya babies, baby, beast time to
Feast and face the East or West or ********* You!
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC
I rode a Trojan horse off to sea with the winds of tide.
Off with a quil and a sword and a helmet to protect my
head the size of a melon soda;
I wondered,
did Dorian ever grow his hair long?
I envy you, Dorian,
with your silky locks and impenetrable gaze,
slanting, almost cursing mouth filled
with gasp.
Portraits do not exceed the size of its canvas,
but you seem to breathe Life, Dorian.
You seem alive.
Perhaps the color black suits you or your tie;
perhaps the ground on which you walk upon
turn grey and wither with every step.
They say you die a little each day, Dorian.
Are you looking for a lover?
One’s whims turn to coals with every feathered touch.
Lay down beside me, Dorian, and
don’t forget to cover us.
Wrap me in the shade of your *****
and maybe tonight will be the kindest of clouds.
Lay down beside me, Dorian, and kiss me on my lips.
I have long since felt a stranger so humid and dry.
Wrap your tongue around my finger, Dorian.
Taste me;
take me breath by hurried breath.
Grounds will shake and split to quarters into the far
corners of the Earth.
There was a play, staged at the living room, where the couch
used to be.
I heard a hiss on the recorder the step you
started grinding your hips pressed unto me.
I took a hold of you, dear Dorian, and you vanished in thin
air.
Goddamit, Dorian, we never talked about Chaplin.
I never said anything about grieving or weeping the insides
of my being.
Dance with me, oh Dorian!
Before the clock strikes one.
Before you fade and your face becomes a smudge on my arm.
Look at me, Dorian, *********
Look at me.
Look.
This is the sound of your embrace,
and of a million and one hues pressed clear in wells of oil.
I loved you, Dorian,
as much as one portrait hangs somewhere, gathering dust and memories,
waiting for a breath,
a sigh,
a touch,
a face.
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 7:00 AM UTC
Me in my mirror, mirror
A ghoulish sight.
Awkward skulk
'A clay face'
As my nose says
'A dog snout'
As my eyes would say
Skin like a shelter
For bacterial catacombs
Rising up from under like undead
Screaming inside
I press my face into the right morph
Re-bend the crooked nose
Self-correct the bloated chin
I layer on more clay, then
Mold it again.
Re-mold some more.
Slice some off;
what am I now?
"Pretty." an ideal voice says
*********
My eyes are tired from staring
"They aren't lasers"
I tell myself
"They can't surgically correct you"
And So
goes another night.
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 11:26 PM UTC
Her bones sound like the shaky clink of a glass teacup
On a glass plate
And she’s trying to keep it all steady
Her eyes are blue and huge inside her glasses which
I hope make me look as larger than life as she pretends I am
As I pretend to be
Even though it’s against protocol
I hold her hand as we walk through the aisles
And it feels like that one time paper became human
And asked you to pretend it was
Just long enough to know what love felt like
I wanted to tell her I love her
“You’re so sweet,” she said
“So handsome”
“Such a nice smile” she said
I wanted to push the red beaming sun of my face to her cheek
so she could feel me blush
First we looked for hair spray
And then we looked for lipstick
Her favorite chocolate
Which she confided tasted like ****
But she had to stick to sugar free now
And then we looked for her arthritis medicine
Adult diapers
A bedside ******
Please take the years I am not using
I’d die young to keep you here a little longer
To fight back the dust in your bones
And the paper of your skin
I want you to wake up every morning
So when I ask you how your day has been
You can say more than
“Well
I woke up again”
********* lady
If you knew what I would do to stop this
Her smile never fades
No shame hidden in the wrinkles of her face
I let her out the back so she can get to the street corner faster
“Such a nice young boy” She says
And I just want to tell her
I love her
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 12:19 AM UTC
Regret.
What should I tell you?
Should I say I can embrace you?
But we're stuck in this now.
****** let go!
Now I feel like crap.
Should I tell you to **** off?
But no, I need you!
Please come back!
********* now I want to let go again!
I still feel like crap.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 1:21 AM UTC