"incumbency" poems
cast off the coat
of the last eight years
cast off the coat
leave behind the arrears
cast off the coat
a new dawn appears
cast off the coat
the road ahead clears
change who tillers
the admin's
ship
bring in a fresher
governance's
clip
Washington's clock ticks
with a timing so loud
pleading to the people
lift the heavy shroud
too long
an incumbency
too long its stay
staying for many
a long day
cast off the coat
of the last eight years
cast off the coat
leave behind the arrears
cast off the coat
a new dawn appears
cast off the coat
the road ahead clears
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 8:55 PM UTC
print advertisements glued
to poles and light fixtures,
craving for attention;
nobody looks at the sun,
but only find their way
by winding around
elongated shadows.
we converse best in the dark:
our handwriting legible without sight.
veins pulsate, nerves euphoric
with every brushing confluence;
plucking bruises that
surface like lilac blossoms
on the terra firma of skin.
cold filament passes the incumbency
of illumination to the bona fide sun.
we bear each other’s signature
into the day, together
with the last memory of
doors closing
with us on opposite sides.
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
Interloping through your fields,
Hoping you’ve lowered your shields.
I hope I’ll get my point across.
Trepidation, nausea in my soul;
The revolution’s my only goal.
There’s no other point,
No other gig, no other role.
And yet, all you see is Utopian, impossible ideas.
Folded neatly, packed in boxes, and stowed away,
Like a discounted cabinet from IKEA.
My brain bubbles like a *** of stew;
Plenty of ideas, more than a few.
There’s my cue;
The room goes quiet.
Anxious like my rent is due,
Angry enough to start a riot.
Every time I speak about what could be,
I can hear brows furrowing, disbelief developing,
All in doubt as to what we would see.
It’s so frustrating, being dismissed;
I’m sorry, is there something I’ve missed?
They call people like me idealistic;
They say alternatives are unrealistic.
Idealism is what keeps us evolving,
What keeps us from dissolving,
From melting in a vat of redundancy,
From getting suffocated by incumbency.
Visionaries are what separates a living culture from a graveyard.
Stationary nation states, overseeing like unforgiving vultures -
But hey, at least you’ve got your promos and your saver cards.
If capitalism is the best we can do,
Then we really are ******* *******
You might think I’m being rude,
But, you know that I’m just being shrewd,
That I’m spitting out the uncut truth.
You’re in my brain’s building complex now;
This poem’s going to be a rare beauty,
A collector’s item, get your cheques out.
Call me whatever you want.
I’ve got no riches to flaunt,
For the revolution requires empty hands.
Let go of the designers and the brands;
It’s time to face the music and fetch the popcorn,
For the end of the world is going to be grand.
Jul 31, 2019
Jul 31, 2019 at 4:20 PM UTC
The humid incumbency of my bed is overwhelming; it doesn't help to have your arm on me.
Warm, moist and overwhelming due to the slightest temperature change; which is complimented by the staunch smell of sweat.
I am awake, barely, as the sun slowly introduces dawn to this uncharacteristic heat.
I have something to do, somewhere to be, but the warmth is containing me.
I think about a number of things, predominantly this woman lying here,
one who I am meant to love, hold high and above; yet I fear.
The room characteristically describers her overwhelming temper,
hushed, surrounding, weakening; as it layers over your mind,
seducing it until you become blind.
As these realizations drip upon me like my sweat drips off my nose,
continuous, subtle, and not enough to wipe away,
yet, bothersome enough to impose.
So as I lie here, sweating, stinking and sweltering; I wonder how long?
How long until my sweat will drown me.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC