"livingroom" poems
My son runs, wrapping arms around
my nebulous waist.
"l love you, Mom!" He squeezes tighter,
as if letting go would be his black hole.
"I love you, too, " I squeeze back, absent mindedly. (Where is the cream? I need coffee.)
"I love you more!" he breathes, without pause.
He gazes into my eyes,
searching my planets.
"Oh no, that can't be true," I retort.
I forget the coffee, his eyes are starlight.
"I love you to infinity!" he exclaims,
staring harder.
He wants to sail the Milky Way with me.
"Me too," I reply, and remember oxygen tanks.
I'm speaking in light years, and I hope the sound waves will catch up to him.
His face cracks into a million years of forever, before he lets go,
dancing across the universe of our livingroom,
his solar system intact.
At least for now.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
Spinning chairs, crashing
Dollars bills, in a G-string
Face hammering,
by sweaty sticky ***** cheeks
Plastic suitcases, held tightly
Chug your drink it's time to leave
Walk cautiously, drink powefully
Ting, ting, goes the machine
She winked at her, she pinched back
He said let's go
Their room opening
Laying, the mysterious women on the bed
He grabbed her hips
His wife watched, caressing her ****
Door goes cold
Sun shining brightly
Eyes being punctured into gaping holes
Cheesy over done smile, stepping into the livingroom floor
Perfect outstanding family
Morally hidden, detrimental corrupting
Their professional suits, look so clean
Appearance is everything
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 2:27 PM UTC
there's a hard silence here
and there is a fresh echo of the dim kitchen light
in the ***** linoleum tiles that zigzag the floor
even the air feels broken as it limps slowly
through the room
i stop near the door upon entering
and gather myself
like a ragman gathering the tattered remains
stitching the fragments of self with the thread of awareness
weave the image of self into the reality of the moment
with the hesitations of someone who has lived this moment too many times'
it will come to naught
she is alive but her heart is dead
the dust on my worn coat is from the graves of my
fallow field where we once laid a crop of hopes
but i cannot abandon her to this barren place
i know i perceive only the narrow sunstricken pages
faded and stained with the words legible only to the hardy eye
but its the deeper tale which
even the gardener of times bloodstained trophy's
would fear to tread
his leather shod hands worry the intricate gears
of the mechanical face she wears
he manipulates it to wear a lopsided grin
pantomime of happiness for my birthday
but i watch the vacant places behind the face and see that
with a blemished mechanical eye she looks out over the oncoming
evening through the livingroom window
its cracked and ***** surface turns
the setting sun into a parody of dawn
she greets me but just stares out the window
as if she is waiting a lovers return
i stand infront of her blankly
we wait for the hours to pass
i fix her tea even though it isn't broken
and make small talk
as she makes mechanical sounds
till she sleeps
i leave with the dawn
and make my way to my own bed at last
to fend off dreams that something somewhere could be different
and wake to the sorrowful song of a passing bard
his thin feet dancing on a moonlight hilltop
meant for lovers only
and he is dancing alone
alone
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
I want to fall in love with you today tonight and tomorrow
I want to shy away from your touch only to bring you back home with me
I want to lay down by your side late evening on the livingroom carpet
And tell you all the ways in which you are beautiful, you are beautiful, you are
I want to eat dinner with you and breakfast, too
I want to connect with your mind, your words and your skin
I want you to look at me like it's the first time
I want to love you enough without pushing you away
It seems your absence draws me nearer
I want our love to live in videotape
Our memories reeled in red, blue, green
Red, blue, green
I want to be the great strange dream
That you are much too fond of for letting go
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 8:08 PM UTC
I only shoot to **** my food
Not for pride or pleasure
I hunt the meat we all can eat
Not for a mantlepiece treasure
But late one night I was lying in bed
And someone was at my door
I jumped to my feet like a ninja in heat
And crawled across my floor
It was dark inside my livingroom
But I could see a silhouette
The next thing I saw took my breath
It's something I'll never forget
A deer was wearing a ski mask
His antlers poked out the top
I jumped to my feet as fast as I could
And yelled, "Bambi you better stop"
He turned around and began to charge
I screamed for my wife to get back
He pulled a knife and cut my arm
With another sneak attack
He chased me down the hallway
The bathroom my only hope
But when I tried to get inside
He lassoed me with his rope
He tied me up and robbed my house
My wife was under the bed
He went through all of our dresser drawers
Her underwear on top his head
He finally left, the house was a mess
There were hoofprints everywhere
He took the remote to our color Tv
And even our silverware
Before he left he pointed and laughed
And called me a crazy old geezer
But my wife is scared and cannot rest
Until I put him in my freezer
Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 5:52 PM UTC
She is in my bed resting.
My computer, TV and fireplace are
In the livingroom.
All the beer is in the fridge.
I have treasures
In my
Every
Room.
When she wakes up, we'll sit
By the fireplace, drinking beer and
Listening to music,
Deciding which movie to watch
Together. Until then, I'm staying
Outside, on the stairs
In the autumn evening rain, playing this
Game of All or Nothing.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
It never ceases to amaze me,
The way a woman can be at her most
Beautiful
Naked,
And yet feel so
Insecure; covering up with arms
Even as she tiptoes into
The
Livingroom for a
Towel to
Eclipse herself
With.
Every day with a woman
Is the one
Before
Christmas.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 3:42 PM UTC
See I will remember you.
My brain, categorizing as it is
In its Obsessive Compulsive ways
Remembers everything-
Filed away to one day illicit
An emotion I know not of now.
I will remember your fingers skillfully tracing
My outline, your breath
Against mine as we lay
On the bed you made
Up with new sheets.
I will remember the new
Sheets and your excitement
For them as our sweat moistened
Their crisp newness on that
Balmy early summer evening.
I will forever remember purple:
The color of those sheets;
The color of anything favorite
And happy and nice and You.
But that was then and
Years from now, as I walk
Down the street in a town
That's not this one, my
Fingers interlocked in the
Hand of a man who is not you,
I will see a girl pass
Me by in a lovely purple dress
And I will remember. I will
Remember the night
When that girl was me
And that dress was mine
And that color was yours.
But, there's the rub, the
Sandy rub after a long, hot, sweaty
Perfect day at the beach,
The salt to the sweet of
This all- my brain will store
This, everything, store it away
And I will remember. I will
Remember the leaves that crept
Down your shoulder, permanently
Inked into your freckled skin.
I will remember the look and
The words and the touch.
But will you? Will you remember
The way I smell of
Sunflower and stale smoke
Coming in from the rain, blue
Eyes peaking up from
Rain specked spectacles
Gleaming in the dim light of
Your livingroom?
Because I will, I can't help it.
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 8:38 PM UTC
I taught her how to handle a
Pellet gun tonight.
Now her eye is black from the
Scope, her fake fingernails chipped
From loading,
And the pine tree nearly stripped from
Cones outside my
Livingroom window, where our
Jägermeister
Cups made little rings on my
Brother's Longfellow hardback
Copy.
The night sky is bright blue this
Time of year in Norway.
Sun never really sets.
I looked up at the brightests spots
Beyond the moon, as she took aim
And fired with a subtle
Psstkh.
"So close," she whispered at the
Unwounded summer evening,
And I smelled her lavender hair
And all the warm outsides
As I thought of satellites and
Discoveries, and how moments
Such as this one would
Always matter
More.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 5:52 PM UTC
I only shoot to **** my food
Not for pride or pleasure
I hunt the meat we all can eat
Not for a mantlepiece treasure
But late one night I was lying in bed
And someone was at my door
I jumped to my feet like a ninja in heat
And crawled across my floor
It was dark inside my livingroom
But I could see a silhouette
The next thing I saw took my breath
It's something I'll never forget
A deer was wearing a ski mask
His antlers poked out the top
I jumped to my feet as fast as I could
And yelled, "Bambi you better stop"
He turned around and began to charge
I screamed for my wife to get back
He pulled a knife and cut my arm
With another sneak attack
He chased me down the hallway
The bathroom my only hope
But when I tried to get inside
He lassoed me with his rope
He tied me up and robbed my house
My wife was under the bed
He went through all of our dresser drawers
Her underwear on top his head
He finally left, the house was a mess
There were hoofprints everywhere
He took the remote to our color Tv
And even our silverware
Before he left he pointed and laughed
And called me a crazy old geezer
But my wife is scared and cannot rest
Until I put him in my freezer
Aug 28, 2010
Aug 28, 2010 at 2:10 AM UTC
If only I
knew you were coming
To pour
the storms down
into my livingroom
I would have closed
my windows down
And let you
fuse, with the ocean wind
What a miss!
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 3:24 AM UTC
i)
moving a couch:
our labour pained
by darkened skies.
ii)
smoky room and the long long couch
-- freshly moved,
a multi-hued curvy affair of fabrics, orange & salmon
my old man, the artist & i all sit, cigarettes between fingers
talking.
gives us two paintings, his, for the help.
sitting in the livingroom now while they
talk &
looking out onto the street
clicking a lamp on & off.
two girls see the light blinking,
look up,
wave for me.
so i go down the steps and they ask
if i know the artist. if i paint??
"i play with words."
--won't i please read them something??
having moved the couch just then, i read them "couch"
-- poem of the summer previous
(furniture on the brain?)
wringing their hands they use words like
great !
enveloping !
eclectic pittr-patt'ring of your words !
-- at this turn away, quoting b. dylan:
"it's very tiring having other people tell you how much they dig you."
instead of standing in the doorway offer
to buy them
coffee.
(they greedily accept sans even a blink -- the leeches!)
make 'em wait while i light another cigarette.
& once in cafe
they don't have much of interest to say so
i take my cup and go
sit on the artist's roof.
dig that
sunset ! ...
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 4:46 PM UTC
Turn a light on,
Baby I'm comin home
When you know,
You'll know
I just know
The steam will leak off my writing on the walls,
Probably
But honey,
I promise I'm almost home
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 4:27 AM UTC
The 25th of April was just gone
I had no time to prepare
My beautiful kids done wrong
I had to just watch and stare
The mother decided it was best
So they took the bus
The night before was a sleepless rest
Then everything rushed
Now I stay in this dark room
Holding their toys
His favorite was his vroom vroom
Because it made the most noise
The livingroom hasn't been touched
I keep the door closed
This feeling is more than enough
Cause my heart has froze
They were more than just two kids
They gave me light
My niece and nephew outdid
Everything in sight
Rose could barely make words
Cyler was a chatter
Together they were beautiful birds
And the world didn't matter
I taught them beautiful things
Like beatboxing a sound
I wanna handle what life brings
Even if they aren't around
I don't know how to stop my cry
Because I miss my loves
I wish I could've got a better goodbye
*Maybe one last hug...*
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 10:20 AM UTC
I woke up on Christmas Eve
It was late, in the middle of the night
When I saw him under the Christmas tree
He give me such a terrible fright
I thought it was a cat burglar or something
Who was trying to steal from me
And I had a 52 inch color television
Under that Christmas tree
So I ran to the kitchen as fast as I could
To try to find me a kinife
But I just couldn't find one anywhere
Remind me to have a talk with my wife
Anyway, I grabbed up the toaster behind the bread
That was sitting on the cabinet shelf
I snuck up behind him, like a ninja in sneakers
And was planning on killing that elf
Of course I didn't know it, at the time it occurred
That the fat man, was old Santa Claus
It wouldn't have mattered to me at the time
Cause he touched my remote with his paws
I almost had him, when I heard this sound
That was coming from my very own kitchen
It was, Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, *****
Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen
Those eight tiny reindeer had attacked me
I had hoofprints all over my head
And that's when the fat man in the big red suit
Turned around to me and he said
"I'm just gonna borrow your color tv,
So I can watch the football game"
"The one in my workshop is only 19 inches.
And it's just really too small and lame"
Before I could tell him to forget it buddy
I heard the sound of him slamming my door
Those eight bully reindeer had wrapped me in tinsel
And left me helpless on the livingroom floor
Well, that was the last time I saw him
And my tv was never returned
So make sure you hide your color tv's
Take it from someone who's learned
Apr 15, 2010
Apr 15, 2010 at 11:36 AM UTC
The smell of firewood. The
Sounds it makes when burning.
Yellow light dancing on the
Paintings I made for my
Livingroom walls.
The ghost of my cat curled up
By my feet on the sofa.
Outside, the wind grabs
Branches and brushes them
Against the house.
I sit like this for hours.
Barely thinking; just being
Part of the room.
A song. A poem. Barely hidden
In the air.
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 7:00 AM UTC
|
teach me latin, so i can write dead words in a dead language and gift them to you in a skeleton leaf.
||
count my freckles and divide them by your lips.
|||
write lists of places and plan trips and pack our things, but never go. instead, build tents in the livingroom and sleep there for a week.
||||
dance with me when the frogs and crickets strike up a concert, dance me straight to the edge of the river.
|||||
polish stones in your pocket and hang them around my neck with a jute cord.
||||||
write books with every word misspelled and give them to me with most solemnity, a crooked knee and a bent head. i'll decipher them and paint the phrases in the clouds.
|||||||
paint the grass white and roll down hills until we're coated and stiff.
||||||||
hang mirrors on every wall and leave notes with scribbled words about the groceries, ps you're wonderful.
Oct 28, 2010
Oct 28, 2010 at 8:13 PM UTC
I woke up early on Christmas Eve
It was late, in the middle of the night
When I saw him under the Christmas tree
He give me such a terrible fright
I thought it must be a cat burglar
Who was trying to steal from me
And I had a fifty-two inch color television
Under that Christmas tree
So I ran to the kitchen as fast as I could
To try to find me a kinife
But I just couldn't find one anywhere
Remind me to have a talk with my wife
Anyway, I grabbed up the toaster behind the bread
That was sitting on the cabinet shelf
I snuck up behind him, like a ninja in sneakers
And was planning on killing that elf
Of course I didn't know it, at the time it occurred
That the fat man, was old Santa Claus
It wouldn't have mattered to me at all
Cause he touched my remote with his paws
I almost had him, when I heard this sound
That was coming from my very own kitchen
It was, Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, *****
Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen
Those eight tiny reindeer had attacked me
I had hoofprints all over my head
And that's when the fat man in the big red suit
Turned around to me and said
"I'm just gonna borrow your color tv,
So I can watch the football game"
"The one in my workshop is only nineteen inches,
And it's really too small and lame"
Before I could tell him to forget it buddy
I heard the sound of him slamming my door
Those eight bully reindeer had wrapped me in tinsel
And left me helpless on the livingroom floor
Well, that was the last time I saw him
And my tv was never returned
So make sure you hide your color tv's
Take it from someone who's learned
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 10:13 AM UTC
In the darkness I have stayed
while in the sunlight the children play
I keep my distance from the light
clinching my hands and my eyes closed tight
Afraid of the sun beaming bright
so vibrant and energetic and powerful against the night
And when the sun finally goes down
then I can be silly and act like a clown
dancing in the livingroom
Singing in the rain
The moon and stars enchant me
their soft white light enhance me
I feel I am free
I guess I am just a creature of the night
Welcoming it's mystery until the morning light
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 1:39 PM UTC
Sleek dark hair
Highlights of auburn, color of fall
Stern lips
A look of austerity in the dark russet eye
Skin lighter than my own
The smaller wrist
Large eyes
Faint deepening crow's feet
Nursing knowledge
Small, short, slight, petite, and strong
Maternal vanguard
Matriarchal
Beautiful and earthly
Scorpionic elusiveness
Her unused canvas
Frequent Homegoods purchased
Shifts decor in the livingroom like a Feng Shui practitioner
Laughs at the absurdity of modern horror movies
Smells like bath wash and too much perfume
Smells of my childhood
Smells of my innocence
Paperbacks of Hugo and Austen in boxes in the basement
Paperbacks of The Symposium and a biography of Marx in the basement
Secretly likes to cook
Culinary explorer
Gastronomically open
Culinary door opener
Very little circle of friends
Outspoken
Austerity on the small mouth
Austerity in the small mouth
Conviction in her voice
Soft graphite in her voice
Has a lisp sometimes
The slight overbite(?)
Immigrant parent
Unnaturalized citizen
Reminds me of fall
Reminds me of everything
Reminds me of very little at once
Life-teacher, one of many
Protective
Over-protective
Pushy
The way her hand moves on her tablet
The way her voice sounded during a lecture when I was a child
The way she used to hug
Closet full of shoes and clothes she rummages through when she's going out
Meticulous cleaner
The way her voice sounded when she tried to make sense of me
The way her voice sounds
...
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 5:23 AM UTC
in infancy,
vienna waited for me.
before bedtime,
i stood on my father’s feet
and put my tiny hands
in his large ones
as we danced around the livingroom
to billy joel.
i learned to read at two;
while young, my father taught me
how to gently set a record on the turntable,
move the arm, set the needle down
and i read the lyrics, memorizing:
war child, dark side of the moon, sports.
we made our fingers walk on a thin line;
we made our faces angry with grins.
he, via ian anderson, showed me
how to carry a sword and take a stand,
told me to be who i really want to be
and taught me what to do
when i join the good ship earth.
older yet, we sang duets,
his deep “by the hand, hand, take me by the hand”
to my “i wanna hear some funky dixieland—”
his “no sugar tonight”
to my “new mother nature.”
now, at fifty-six and twenty-five,
we sing about shiny teeth and having
nothin’ but a good time.
we teach the midwest
not to mess with a son of a *****
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 10:12 PM UTC
It's like... yeah! I'm ok! Obviously!
As if they expected you to say anything else?
Have you tried saying anything else?
Good luck with that.
Yes darling. I am ok.
Everything is fine.
No I don't want to talk about my deranged nightmares
No it had nothing to do with you
Don't be sorry
No you can't do anything to help
It's not your fault
I'm sorry my dreams are too insane for everyone
Bloodbath bloodborne star struck endless pits of eternity?
Every time your heart stopped in sheer terror?
On repeat until you sweat yourself awake?
Or wake up in the livingroom?
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 8:13 AM UTC
how i wish you
would{n't} call
your voice
》shoves 》me 《back《
livingroom\ _waltzes\\ _ _
[ed> ray > amos]
~singing ~our ~songs
Tuesday ○pancakes○
&you;
inthosetiiiiIiiiinyshorts
Sundays _ trippin' _ in _ the _ sand
waves&clouds;
snuggledupintowels
cho/k/ing°°
on° laughs° as
umbrellas wisSsk byyyyyyyyyyy
all. that. slow. lovin.
<inourcozysheets>
& your breath [onme] was
all. i. could. ever.
need.
it | was | just |
a moment ago
i swear;
when-you-call
[mydarlingsweetestlove]
it's {no} hellllllll - p
At. All.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 2:20 AM UTC
i watch you in the livingroom
how beautiful your feet in boots
your thighs in those faded jeans
your biceps in that blue shirt
& as you reach and bend
i’m passion struck
if you knew
your body is a dinner bell
that invites me
to want to taste you
& your kiss
makes music play
deep in the bass
of my hips
would you
kiss me
till Calloway's band
brought the house down
dance with me
till i couldn't catch my breath
strum your fingers
on my strings
till my legs trembled
to open up
and let you in
would you come to me then?
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC