"mcgovern" poems
Literally the strongest person I know.
And in this moment I am using the word "literally"
With the correct definition.
You are a complete klutz,
But the way you live your life is much more graceful than you let on.
You're the masterpiece the gods have waited for.
Little miss independent.
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 9:15 PM UTC
I, so young, fruitful, and high
on the extravagance of life
spot the funkiest electric travelling
beat coming into sight.
The man approaches, asking me to
come and take a walk.
But to strangers I simply
tell this man I'm not supposed to talk.
The man says kind-like smiling all wide,
"I'm a stranger than who? A stranger than you?"
Slyly replies the stranger than I.
"And so you say that I may be strange
for my tophat and clothes have such colorful range.
But if these threads force you to think such a way
just look upon my beard growing so long and gray.
And just because you do not know me, it doesn't mean
that you should "no" me."
"Perhaps your are right," I say with delight.
"From what my eyes can see you are quite alright.
The strange is no more, not for you nor for I.
For my name's McGovern, McGovern's Pollite."
"It's so nice to meet you once stubborn McGovern!
I was born with the title Sicillian Summer!
But for short call me Summer, I go by no other.
Now let us adventure my newly made brother."
And off we went 'round the world and afar.
From Orion's belt straight towards the North Star.
The great majesty's sea pulled us out with its tide.
Thus, Summer and I were a universe alike.
But Time's Father's old ticker struck at such great speed
that Summer was old now and I was displeased.
For I did not want Sicillian to leave,
but my great misfortune was Summer's last need.
"Why wary McGovern, my grown younger brother?
I've shown you the way of Sicillian Summer!
My time has run out for what times's worth I wonder.
But don't you cry now, once stubborn McGovern.
Here is a token, a keepsake for you.
My tophat is yours for my life is now through,
wear it while jumping from the planets to the moons,
and all other moments, your life's lovely tunes."
...
Summer is gone now and I walk down a road.
Top hat tight on, bearing colorful clothes.
A young boy sees me from a ways up the road
and I can't help but feel for his being alone.
I approach the boy asking if he'd like to take a walk.
But to strangers the boy tells me he is not supposed to talk.
I can't help but wonder am I a stranger than he?
Surely he is not a stranger than me!
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 3:56 PM UTC
i'd like to sit at work all day
and drown in words
big ones that snake slowly down my esophagus
and little ones that i throw back twelve
at a time from a double shot glass
i'd like to inject them
into my blood stream
the first ***** of the needle will sting
but after that it's smooth sailing
and i'll be high on odes, haikus, and prose all day
i'd like to unhinge
the top of my skull
take measuring cups and mix 1/2 cup
repetition, 3 cups flow, 3/4 cup line breaks
in with my brains until it's a thick, smooth mixture
i'd like to gorge until
my body refuses one more bite
so full of cummings, neruda, frost, denero,
mcgovern, hughes, whitman, salzberg,
keats, eliot, wordsworth that i might explode
May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 12:08 PM UTC