"gratias" poems
This body is to narrow to start the concrete picturesque poetry
As a marvelous bright sparkling spring into the pitch black marvel stone
My poems are shallow water running out of time climbing backwards
Shanti dances, Shakti watches, I ride the glossy magenta mountain byke Elementally through the potentially ***** city, gulping two little
flying spoons wwhhpp mhm
of
Brilliant IO Ag
Helth guarantieed on the nulth spelling positive not
Obtrusive politely declined skipped suggestive
Visually objective little pencil box down bellow
friend _ this is blank !
Absolutely! Absoulutely! A ****** stream of no perservatives no ***
Objecting flowery flunder opiates Words grow from
Barriers between insufficient gestures from human
Jazzy left ear leaving laments of sounds incapability to stay
Endlessly entwined and glued together as your soul loves
Tender tactile cats touch on your desperate desert sju++
Ave Gratias Plena Ava Gardner Avon Avion
My throat is not of a managment made suits suiting suitcases
I'm Tired Of Fraternities Or True Females Always Ends Well
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 3:37 PM UTC
I live for two hours, five hours, bite to bleed.
A cryogenic coma until we begin.
Arguing in vain with the town around me,
over nothing able to be justified, and he and I don't care;
reveling in the confusion of the tri-city area—
drowning our egos and taking our time
until we truce with razor smiles; shift
to removing tongues with pliers in our words.
(living amputation and too much diet coke)
Shouted disclaimers spread to the rest of the state,
in case they never wondered how it feels
to watch a living heart exposed.
He gleamed gold with self-confidence as he cracked his knuckles.
"I'd like someone to hit me, y'know?"
Next to him, Tallahassee rolls her eyes, Tampa looks away.
(I catch his stare. Deo gratias. Deo gratias. Father, Son, and Violent Thoughts.)
Thank God, I whisper, and I am yelling.
He is split from throat to hip and I drain his open truth.
Speaker static shifts the room,
podium to floor.
This isn't over, he says, and we laugh
because nothing we ever say can be proven,
and we intend to prove it all.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 8:37 PM UTC
a thousand eyes follow you from newly waxed floors
and trail after me with form-filled labels, white on gold
take as needed; do not operate machinery; relax.
the shadows follow our steps, ***** and blood next to God’s poster love.
pin it to the bathroom wall: peccavi, peccavi
two years, fifteen minutes, miles of scars.
we sleep through the days, and whisper
of nights before the hurricane
("what happened to those two?")
("Deus misereatur, the storm took them.")
I daydream of sinking my teeth into the flesh of redemption,
to rip muscle from immaculate bone.
can we not move on?
copper denial drips from our jaws.
and Deo gratias, they say, you survived.
limbless and naked on tiled floors.
Deo gratias et Deus mortuus est.
survival is in our veins.
I watch you waiting in LCD purgatory
as you see my fingers bleed into the vinyl shielded couches of the 12am ER
perception through observation — I let you reveal who I am.
what am I feeling? how do I act?
breathing through each other with liquor in our lungs.
I know how the bile tastes in your throat,
and you know the burn of the whiskey on my tongue
why do we still reach for walls
where cicada-shell notices cling with scotch tape?
take a number and restore the riches;
leave the room and tear them down.
who but God can build over the ruins of fallen cities, fallen worlds?
and ora pro nobis, He is yet unwelcome here.
we are holy, in our own names we pray, and Hallelujah, we are saved
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
Like Lazarus, I sat on
The Mansion House steps:
a citizen of The City
gave me the bus fare
to St. John’s, Waterloo.
Underground I dived.
Surfaced and sheltered
by the church portico
I learned that a beggar
is nothing more than
the passive recipient
of a stranger’s kindness.
When I was hungry
you gave me food;
water when thirsty.
My clothes were gifted,
shelter you found for me.
Kind were your words.
For these comforts
I lift up my hands
no longer in distress
but benediction:
gifting as poor return
all that you gave to me.
Blessed are the Merciful,
for they will receive Mercy.
Deo Gratias!
Tony Brady
Mar 6, 2018
Mar 6, 2018 at 4:44 AM UTC
*Graces flowing free
From a marvelous Being
Filled with love and peace*
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 9:09 AM UTC
(A MePhone rattles and twanks and pings like Robby-the-Robot gone bad.)
Woman: “Yeah?”
(silence)
Woman: “YEAH?”
(silence)
Woman: “I’m in the hospital.”
Noise from MePhone: (think Charlie Brown’s parents)
Woman: “I’m in the hospital!”
MePhone: (Charlie Brown’s parents)
Woman: “I’M IN THE HOSPITAL!”
MePhone: (a small child babbling)
Woman: “I’M IN THE HOSPITAL!”
MePhone: (a small child babbling)
Woman: “YEAH!”
MePhone: (a small child babbling)
Woman: “YEAH!”
MePhone: (incoherent noises – could be a ******
Woman: “FOR MY COLONOSCOPY!”
MePhone: (the ****** continues)
Woman: “FOR MY COLONOSCOPY!”
Offstage, a young woman in scrubbies: “Mr. Lawrence…?”
(Deo gratias)
Exit, pursued by Too Much Information.
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 3:55 PM UTC
Until this morning my daughter was safe
For so the city said
But the waters rose, slithering up her stairs
And still the city said she was safe
She was evacuated, first by canoe
Then by an air-boat
Then by a dump truck
She and another evacuee laughed in the rain:
“Now we are the people they take pictures of”
Then by a bus
To a center at Saint Martha’s Church and School
Where someone said she would be bussed again
This time to downtown Houston, for reasons
Best known to some stupid *** of a *****
Her friend’s husband with his big ol’ pickup
Worked around barriers and through high water
And they escaped up the road to Willis, Texas
Tomorrow I will be honored to shake his hand
Long ago, when she left home, I promised
That an old man and two little dachshunds
Would wait for her. I’m even older now
With grand-dachshunds – but we said we would wait
And we have
Best I can do at the moment
Tears of gratitude
Deo gratias
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 8:11 PM UTC