"goodyear" poems
I live in one of those small
mostly untainted towns
not trendy, just funky and innocent
the kind that’s becoming rara villa en terra.
No Starbucks.
But modern winds bring dust and particles
from larger cities around.
They have infected our fauna
which are morphing before our eyes.
Last week I was at the pond
where the deer come to drink at dusk
and my heart broke.
There was that huge seven-point whitetail buck
the one I so admired
huge, taut and fast
but instead of hooves
he was trod with Goodyear offroad tires.
He saw me see him
and embarrassed turned and sped away into the trees
leaving rubber treadmarks in the loam.
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 4:19 AM UTC
What to do when you’ve got the blues
Was it me or is it you
My plans are simple
To love life and be loved too
Their must be some kinds of deception
For you must love life and need one too
Or be one of
Billions of bricks in a grand pyramid scheme
But where in the mirror thee one on top
Is the one of thee ruse
Whom is under all
And who saves all fooled
Is there one among you who is more
Or less than precious you
Come on you’all
What would you be kidding me for
Like my lies to and about you
Like I could live without you
And rather forget or shout rat at ya
Have you scrounge through ******* that ye’
may you eat
or wire tie tire scraps to the souls of your feet
For we’ve come such a long way
To be here today
While it’s not been to long
Or far to go with squabble, plunder, resource **** and plow it under
That climates are for shifting
Seasons without reasons
Masses are off for the drifting
Our earth without our gratitude we sure aren’t 'a pleasin’
Thee oceanic cradle of conception 'tis sewer now
Like could I be without thee sky above me
Would thee auto or truck eat the one last bean
And every brick without a home
Not a hunting ground
Some tillable earth or seed to sow
Toxic fish in the untamable sea
And She will do as she wants
She will do as she needs
She’ll easily come and suddenly recede
Upon her eggshell basin we drill siphon pump poison and bleed
We blow holes in the ionosphere
Magnetic shifts and solar flairs
Does our wild kingdom wish us well
Or rather see us off into exile from our hells
Of dust bowls and Goodyear treads to save our souls
Journey on wayward ones
Is not a thing sacred not a one
Holy liars say anti-christ better hurry fast
So saviors come to condemn our past
And free us from, to us what’s been done
Seven say there is the Savior
And six are sick evil ones
And we can not agree of the one
Seven times to the nth degree is what we will need
Till our actions are thee savings grace
As Great Exemplars have professed
Each of us must overcome
And Holy Creature become
In the stregnth of forgiveness
We undo to thee and us done
We are the ones to feel to see
That Love is the fire
Which is pure bravery
You forge in the now
Without the forgetting
Tomorrows you desire
Where love will rise
And set as thee One in all
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 9:23 PM UTC
Clouds
drifting across the sky
in imaginary forms
Clouds
making imaginary images
that only the mind
can put together
Clouds
of varying shades
and shapes
Clouds
metamorphosing
Clouds
morphing
into the unknown
Clouds
metamorphosed
Clouds
floating
like the Goodyear blimp
off on the horizon
Clouds
lost
shapeless
meeting
and reforming
Clouds
like foam on the ocean
endless and everlasting
but empty in their
subtlety
Clouds
like cotton candy
pink then white
shifting shades
of gray
Clouds
filled with rain
or as
ephemeral
as infinity
ethereal
everlasting
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 7:58 AM UTC
I was walking down Graham Ave
(Or up, if your an optimist)
When I spotted a side walk sale
My eyes darted
Records
"I want to go to there"
Without thinking or blinking
Drawn in like a tractor beam
I sifted through the pile of wax
My nostrils flared
From the ****
Covered in dust
Embedded in age
Music at its greatest stage
The woman having the sale said,
"The records are $2, no holler"
"$2 is better than $3,
Especially for a broke
******* like me"
So I snagged some
Miles Davis &
Dinah Washington
Then I looked up,
Read the light of the Goodyear Blimp
And it read "Shelby Hemstock's a ****
You know what kind of day it was
Guess I was going up Graham after all
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 4:43 PM UTC
chutes of straw lean
in the wind, the way they tap
gently on my knee,
or on the table.
they extend, slender,
and pop when they bend
back to a point
at the goodyear blimp
Jun 17, 2011
Jun 17, 2011 at 1:04 AM UTC
I am teething on a future
as thick as a Goodyear
I hold on as it spins
and burns out
creating smoke and mirror finish
I make much ado
about moving in place
I listen to the static
on the stack of TVs
in the back of a Goodwill
Turn your ears to the proper channel
and you’ll hear the whispers
tucked under lo-def signal
Your eyes will adjust to the fuzz
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
It's that time of the month again, your rent is due.
You'd better pay up or I'll beat the hell out of you.
Don't try to get out of paying again, I don't want to hear an excuse.
Stop trying to get pity by saying you were a victim of ****** abuse.
I want my money, I don't want to hear excuses or lies.
When it comes to giving me an excuse, don't even try.
Do I get my money or do you get a beating?
Pay me or my fists are what you'll be eating.
You just insulted me, you said that I'm so fat that I look like the Goodyear Blimp.
I just punched you in the face and you've started crying because you're a wimp.
Stop blubbering like a two year old, be mature like an adult.
And I will permanently disable you if you hurl anymore insults.
I'd like to avoid sending you to the emergency room and myself to jail.
Just gimme my **** money, I'm getting tired of having to raise hell.
Aug 11, 2019
Aug 11, 2019 at 2:28 PM UTC