"hoosier" poems
Poignant prose chucked out and recycled by morning.
Turned out trick repeated til boring.
The local band just started touring.
Sonnet's blasted until the ladies are 'whooring'.
...
Roxy Music dropped David Byrne.
For Ellie Goulding and a remix of burn.
Robert Johnson's been reworked.
Ratatat rap as interest is perked.
Dylan picked up the silent game.
Making ambient noises which all sound the same.
The Rolling Stones joined the church.
After buying some of Hoosier's merch.
Nicki Minaj claps her ****
Laying down a tribute for Terry Fox's stump.
Benefit concert soon to be run.
By the played out Glee Club composing Fun.
Beach Boys dragged in with the tide.
...And Stars Collide.
NOFX has gone clean
Fat Mike's gone and become a dean.
Tom Waits stomps out to Kendrick Lamar.
Hacking up bits of blunt induced tar.
Bumping out in Steve Ellison's car.
To Captain Murphy's karaoke bootlegged from a bar.
...
Less than 10 good tapes a year
Even fewer if referring to those others actually hear.
Jack White's gone third eye blind
Getting over run by his drug free mind.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
February 13th 2014
I had a full moon in my sign,
So I read it as a sign,
That my entire body spirit and soul,
Was vibrating for a **** reason, and
God - no matter how many times
He has ****** me - he has his
God **** Reasons. He isn’t even
Selfish enough to call them his
Own. That’s my god, that my mind
That my big gig my spirit in the sky.
It’s not nothing that is happening.
If I am regretting, opening
My chakras, and consciousness
That’s too bad because, there is no going
Back, nor forward, nor present
Because I presently believe.
And let me make it clear I no longer believe
in regret.
Miles away from here,
I will never question where I have to go.
A body disconnected from a mind disconnected
From a soul, teeters in the balance of regret
Because trying to get fit is not fitting in
Fit has been inhibition
Latent, and lamented
With sin.
Simply put, make healthy decisions.
Speak freely, and confessions
Are easy to make.
My entire life I have felt like a loser
A Bukowski like ****** -with no 'hoosier'
Like talents. So if tales are not spoken
About you when you die
remember
Like Bukowski’s one of us down here
He wouldn’t be sober either;
Am I the tourist/hitchhiker
That turns Hunter S. Thompson
Down on a hit of ether?
I am wise not with wisdom but wise with beer.
Health is about balance, and that balance
Is my edge.
Either which way, I admire my brain.
I didn’t sit down planning to write
this and if I could explain I would
put it in a book.
Look,
If I publish anything soon I would be
Just as worried
As you are?
Would I pigeon hole and sewer
My lifelong friends or would I
Expose deep dark secrets
That could de-rail my “Hoosier” inspired
Career?
I fear yes.
But I also fear no-
Body would read them.
My trash masterpiece
Will be self published
And hidden in discount book bins
Across North America
With a sticker on it reading
“This is free for a reason”
And its not because I don’t need
money to survive,
but because I do need love
to do so.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
Indianapolis bleats and blares and protests too much
that the Hoosier state is an idyllic business paradise
with low taxes, low costs, low unemployment, low everything.
Indiana’s the Walmart of… wait, don’t fret about those woefully low wages,
the Indiana Chamber of Commerce reassures struggling, undernourished souls.
The low cost of living means that scant pittance isn’t really as bad as it seems.
Yet, all the blather and palaver and ideological would-you-rather
somehow fails to stem the ongoing, bleeding, gushing
exodus of the college educated out of state to scattered scintillating cities.
Propaganda engines like the Indiana Economic Development Corporation
trumpet all these purported jobs at some factory or warehouse or call center,
yet years later, a TV reporter stands in an empty field that never got developed.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 4:06 AM UTC
The Sandhill Crane glides low,
Reflecting in the rippling mirror,
The tips of its unbroken wings
Caressing the edge of the water.
That’s how I wish my lips
Knew yours.
I wish I could alter the flora,
The gilded meadow,
To spell out your name with
Purple and Mexican Butterfly ****
Maybe then you’d fly back to me,
And never leave.
Where did you soar off to?
Where did you go?
Possibly to Hoosier Hill,
Or to Hemlock Cliffs,
Where you rightly belong,
Because of your elevated beauty.
How selfish of me.
Who was I to think that
I could steal you away, that I
Could own something so brilliant,
Like trying to take the sun
And getting burned?
I glide low on the water’s edge,
My pain reflects in the ripples.
I wish I could hold you,
The way the tree limbs hold
The Inca dove’s nest.
I wish my heart
Knew yours.
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
Bleu Swayed Shoe
Well I've been knocked down, but I've never been out,
I've been put down, did I just sit and pout,
I've been lied to, called a stupid fool,
stabbed in the back, with a sharp garden tool,
had my eyes poked, by some guy named Moe,
pulled my ear real hard, and stepped on my toe,
finally I said, “Hey, I've had enough”,
arched my eyebrows high, and talked real tough,
if you wanna mess with me, you're in for a fight,
I'll get you with my left hook, and then my right,
you've crossed the line, you done bit more than you can chew,
you can kiss your *** goodbye, you scuffed my Bleu Swayed Shoe
well I''ll do the time, if you give me one good reason,
didn't **** anybody, never have committed treason,
I pay my taxes, and go to Sunday school,
always have believed, in the golden rule,
ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies,
sure, I've done things, that I really do despise,
but one thing is sure, I never messed a mans kickers,
except that one time, with all those banjo pickers,
they kept spittin on the floor, I warned them in a nice way,
you need to be more careful, with that nasty old spray,
when they finally hit my foot, what else could I do,
I kicked their hoosier ***** with my Bleu Swayed Shoe
Gomer LePoet
Mar 12, 2010
Mar 12, 2010 at 3:38 AM UTC
Bleu Swayed Shoe
Well I've been knocked down,
but I've never been out,
I've been put down,
did I just sit and pout,
I've been lied to,
called a stupid fool,
stabbed in the back,
with a sharp garden tool,
had my eyes poked,
by some guy named Moe,
pulled my ear real hard,
and stepped on my toe,
finally I said, “Hey, I've had enough”,
arched my eyebrows high,
and talked real tough,
if you wanna mess with me,
you're in for a fight,
I'll get you with my left hook,
and then my right,
you've crossed the line,
you done bit more than you can chew,
you can kiss your *** goodbye,
you scuffed my Bleu Swayed Shoe
well I''ll do the time,
if you give me one good reason,
didn't **** anybody,
never have committed treason,
I pay my taxes,
and go to Sunday school,
always have believed,
in the golden rule,
ask me no questions,
and I'll tell you no lies,
sure, I've done things,
that I really do despise,
but one thing is sure,
I never messed a mans kickers,
except that one time,
with all those banjo pickers,
they kept spittin on the floor,
I warned them in a nice way,
you need to be more careful,
with that nasty old spray,
when they finally hit my foot,
what else could I do,
I kicked their hoosier *****
with my Bleu Swayed Shoe
Gomer Lepoet...
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 6:28 PM UTC
I find myself sitting on the kitchen floor for the last time, just as the setting sun peaks it's rays through the window adjacent to the stove.
Pouring light cascades the room in warm hues of yellow and orange equally shadows are cast on crevices that are plainly seen in the light of day
The open curtains hanging on the balcony door grant me the ability to take in the nostalgia of a scene beyond the glass.
It is a constant begging force that has convinced me to seek out a journey beyond the shell of this metaphor I call home.
For outside that door I found my sanity
timeless memories lost in clouds of smoke and scraps of love lifted from candlelit conversation
through the temperament of a Hoosier summer I gained company and solitude.
I found courage and adversity
Out here on this porch I celebrated a turning point in history
I spent many a nights patching my heart with ruffles of herb and the condolences of cicadas
The railing became my back bone
I was on par with the trees
If you listen to their leaves you will hear my secrets
Then just as brief the passing cars will whisk them away
Nearing sunset I set foot into the realm of my sorrows
an extension of myself imprinted a sense of gratitude on my soul
A bittersweet silence haunts the air around me
As hues of purple and blue grow in the clouds beyond the skyline
Fireflies paint the night below with petite shimmers of hope and sparks of foreshadowing
The sheer essence of my aloof comfort and the mirroring image of my youth calls out for me in the fading light of the last sunset I share with the closest thing to home I've ever owned
I can feel the wind whispering goodbye on my cheek and the street lamps flicker on as the traffic ceases to exist around me
for a moment my world is frozen
All is calm
All is well
All is bliss
And as the pages of this chapter gradually close, I begin my journey again.
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 10:28 PM UTC
10/9/2014
It might have not happened,
for fear of it happening long ago.
I can remember it well with varying
degrees- I cannot at the same time.
It was hot? Sweltering? The Hoosier lake
that after independence day
Everything lived cloaked in ambiguity for me
but I just knew I was happy
O, how the score was settled for me
That summer day
at Ken- Ray.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 6:16 PM UTC