think hard . . .

you do know all about this
we've done this often . . . before

indulging midnite dip in sultry solitude
our beautiful selves ready to plunge

two pieces of iridescent light glow
sudden submergence into waiting blue

oh my word, we do it again . . . again
weird has its name planted all over us

chasing sweet pulsation 'neath them waves
where silence lives and welcomes us

riding massive swells of wicked curves
making each throb outlast the rest!

Minuit à Paris

oui, oui Missour, excusez-moi s'il vous plaît,
peux je prendre vos sacs, être bienvenu au Ritz
Je suis plus sûr, vous apprécierez votre séjour
Paris est le plus heureux, vous voir M. Fitz

Paris au printemps est une si jolie vue
les fleurs tous dans l'éclat, l'horizon la nuit
le soleil brillant shinning maintenant, peut-être une ****** d'après-midi
planifiez votre jour bien avant vous le trajet en haut dans la tour

le fait de promener devant le cathederal de Dame Notre
le fait de penser au carillonneur le vieux bossu
comme la liberté de Philadelphie, la cloche a un craquement
le fait de prendre d'assaut du Bastille, pour soulager la honte

au Louvre pour la plupart d'art exqusite
Rembrandt et DaVinci à leur meilleur
tant de choses à voir c'est juste le début
voir tout cela serait une quête fantastique

le temps pour un trajet en bas le fleuve de Seine
les vues étonnantes cette vieille ville peuvent livrer
une bouteille de Vouvray agréable pour améliorer le trajet
une jolie femme locale directement par votre côté

maintenant vous pourriez lui demander si elle aime danser
car les clubs dans Paree sont oh si parfaits
le club la Plage aussi un grand endroit pour dîner
un temps magnifique, le Minuit à Paris, France

Gomer LePoet

i was walking all alone in the dark
and around about midnight on the mark
i saw a big flash and looked up ahead.
a star was shot by in the deep blackest bed.

i thought to myself, what can i wish?
what do i want? what to accomplish?
i had no idea, no desires in mind.
so i wished for happiness for me to find.

not long after, i got to thinking...
how far in this life i must have come.
from when i was child chewing my gum,
i wished for a horse from dad and mum.

and when i was teen, so young and in love,
i wished to be together forever and never apart,
til death do us part in the stars up above
did it come true?
...is the white dove blue?

i should have known
that two and half years
and far too many tears
were only a loan.

i then wished for us
together or apart,
that we should find joy deep in our hearts.

today. now. tonight.
a few minutes ago.
a new man, a new light.
a new world that i know.

i see, i have everything i need.
i want for nothing.
not a horse or steed.
not forever, indeed.

i wished for happiness.
even though,
it already has me in its grasp.
and that, was my midnite wish.

(but i can't tell you because it won't come true)

...............his
between    chains & carnations
my silent disavowal to the night
the tethered  ropes of humanity
the pulp that ripens & rots
   before the first bite
    before he get’s to have it all
     the promise of an america   (lost era)
    we all fall
       amongst the bricks & poets
   the machines & hoplessness
     the starvation of the heart
            once we could all
  finally reach across
the earth
    it falls
it ruins of rhyme
with too much reason
  too much of everything
      left the future with nothing
yet here we lay
     dreaming of a big pay day
   ******* hope
    from between my legs
i love you
i love you
         ‘til I go away



6/12/11
b4 midnite sunday

By Arcassin B


following the game of chess,
and got my queen knocked off,
i mean was an exact replica,
with the one that i was sailing off,
with,
to the pacific of being alone,
or maybe when you were younger,
bet you knew that id be gone,
take a chance and fight in the danger zone,
I'm good with computers,
viruses in the brain of a drone,
on her parents living room roof,
remembering i use to let her look at the moon,
telling her mother,
ill be there with you soon,
and soon came when she ended up in the emergency room,
car crash,
truck almost crushed her,
life on a machine isn't right,
making it pure torture,
but until it flatlined,
she had a special place in heaven,
crying all my sorrows away,
funeral day came listening to the reverend,
you got your wish right away.

(6W)

Sleep my children, you, not forgot.

Postscript:
Lured you here under false pretenses
What matters six or ten or
Nine eleven,
When each word enervates the midnite senses.

Through chance or fate,
You, selected on that date,
Thy names inscribed,
A select few, a chosen tribe.

In a megalopolis,
Where hurry and rush,
The hallmarks of the populace,
A city oft condemned as heartless,
Your place, your alphabet unique,
Permanently preserved.

Rest easy then,
Tho our names will be dust and forgot,
You individually, collectively,
Will be remembered eons on.

No need to economize,
Tears, the numbers of words,
Draw some comfort, tho minimized,
Your names, this day, all recalled,
Thus I bless you,
As you bless us,
**Sleep my children, you, not forgot.

~for Marion~

all poets are junkyard scavenger connoisseurs

who wear suits to Manhattan faculty afternoon tea parties,

broken-in jeans to Brooklyn midnite poetry slams,

regalers, tall tale storytellers, subway words pickpockets

of the  extra-ordinary,

claiming innovations but from all saints stolen,

insights inside other's waste,

refusing to acknowledge the true owner's title

by fusing other's refuse.

the original recyclers,

junkyard dog liars,

willful sufferers of the plague of overhearing,

exceptional excerpters of the gems of coal dust noise,

"Connoisseur of old thoughts
Bound in new gilt bindings"*


them's me.


~

12:37am may eighth

In the morning, shower.
But at nite, yo, burn off the fright,
Super-Soaker I become.

As hot as I can stand,
Till my face is a strawberry field.
An hour or two, easing on out
Collected aches and mistakes,
If doable, think on how to make them
un-mistakeable.

Slip slide, music and shampoo,
Tablet baggied, ready armed,
To read and write,
Of and if and about
Us, our poetry,
At the intersecting crossroads
Of life.

Sometimes, I let the water out,
But down don't get out, just sit there,
A sticking stone.

Woman comes by round midnite,
To check if I am
Dead or just well done.
She sees me in the empty bird-word bath.

She doesn't have to say a thing,
Having seen me read your pleads,
She knows, I am drained,
The symbolism, too obvious.

you take a chance
and you say man
here my digits,
now shared,
here is my Rx,
call me as needed

weeks months later
a phone rings
at 2:30am

and one poet says it's me,
I am the living soul
of words you have appreciated

and the other says,
I'm glad you called brother,
how did you know I'd be awake?

and he laughs and says
I read your stuff,
you write best tween
midnite and dawn,
so the probabilities were favorable
that I would find you awake and capable

and you walk and talk and roam
roads and oaths that black and write
screen letters
can't full convey,
till one says **** man look at the time
and both laugh,
knowing a poem
had just been writ in
true voices
shared

and that kids,
is the chance some make,
when first your words you take
and the poetry you proffer
is product of genuine flesh,
beyond mere in vitro digitally fertilized

I write words
which are guilty by association
a biased vanity
a weakened proclamation
a rhyming confession
vaguely detailed obsession
which preys upon my idle mind
occupying my excess time
if I could just
relish
this coffee scented existence
like Marley I won't wait in vain
my character was built
on inconsistent persistence
with all of my offenses
its no wonder you present such resistance
hesitance for an obvious reference

midnite will arrive on its own terms
may it come in waves
I'm emotionless and starved
hoping for the best and the rest is reality
its a stoic majestic bleak perspective
resplendence can't be bought with a sixpence
when innocence is subjective

acutely disputed and often refuted
everybody is down on their knees
echoes throughout empty halls
empty hearts exposed to loosely associated truths
and poorly conceived metaphors
a malcontent in mismatched boots
equally disinterested with
the feelings and good intentions
or any other invention of idle minds

I’m falling off this rock
There’s not enough gravity left

I stood on the wrong side, too close to the edge
Now, I’m falling, fare me well


We didn’t pay all our bills to God
Not insured enough, walk and run and trip and fall



So, now.         kaput!
Save this crazy lifetime in a warped bottle

Which soon will crack for all its solar scrutiny
Insulate the bold things you can never have on stained glass fuzzy print

A half eaten apple sitting on a dusty cloud still has that deified eye planted on it
Globes are lit in insolence on mossy beds

Dreams in armour pick up tell tale signs of cooing sounds very far away
An autumn landscape falls upon the face on a knight whose real name is you

A cruciform gift embedded in a rock only the worthy can retrieve
A lump of coal burns in steady flickers within the palm of hand

Hop out bowl and try to fly, yet land four seconds short of truth
Hiding beneath a rude rainbow and peeping out at striker rays

Cells squirm and turn, ready to burst out soma

And a sky stretches on and on, like a dicey waterfall in ******

One photo snap and it’s all gone!










tonight I watch it come alive at ten to midnite

recalled clues illumine yet don't show all

The missing six

Take the pain killers that make drowsy instantly,

Three times a day with food, every six hours.

What about the missing six?

A compromise?
A midnight last supper, and take three,
All at once.

What? You "like" my midnite poetry?
Part of a plan?

Mmmmm.

How about this?

I get myself addicted to them.
Pills,
Instead of poetry?

How do you like them pills now, baby?
Each one a poem, dying,
By the handful, by the mouthful...

The pain makes me esoteric.
1:42am NYC

152 beats without the drum
tight chest not tight pecs
that's way too much - way too much
take a ride in the wagon - needles inserted
with lights and siren - life inverted
4 days later
inserted defib to keep it slower
not working as of midnite
new peak at 205 bpm
pain relief - not yet
no sleep tonite
but still alive
maybe not the way this nite is going

Gomer LePoet...

I seen nim again that sad looking man...
He stared at me with wonder....
Or was it disgust i cannot tell....
Maybe he should clean up...
The world will hate him less....
And a brushing of teeth will allow him to get close....
Looks like he has enough barriers...
He is not the suitable shade of accepted...
His tattoos make him a dangerous felon....
The lost look in his eyes means he cant be trusted....
If the rest of the world could see what i see......
That he tries harder and harder everyday....
Because his daughters names are tattooed on his neck.....
They are the reason hes tired...
14 hr days leave every late night worth it...
Because a midnite playdate is his only reward....
A lonely soul who recently lost his mom.... his dad....
And how a friend may be all he needs....
But burying his last one four yrs ago has made him scared.......
Now he is facing a world without any back up......
He is the only protection for a family that means everything....
And has a girl who maKes him feel like nothing....
Someday i hope to not see him so down....
But as smile at him...
I realize this whole time...
That sad man in the mirror is actually me....

36 hrs ..... seems like almost a day maybe a half..... elevator rides uncomfortable talks with them....
A hopeful presentation to your forever.... Stale sandwiches in a line of comfortable sweats.....
Knowing that you were gonna be someones hero.... hungover like a villain...
Theres no bat phone where you live... The best example may be close to an Alfred....
I prayed to a saline bag..... Begging him or her to ease some pain.... Not because she was hurting...
Because you were hurting when she was in pain....
A memory of that night...... That morning and you knew the best of you was theirs....
Telling the other one you had a duty... Because you still inside missed the first….
A quiet conflict because you barely knew her.... And at the same time remember every moment...
The moment is not a Time its an Emotion.... a Florescent room.... a Readers Digest the copy of Motor weekly....
The quiet broken promise....... Now everything is just a contained mess....
A night when you drove to her house just after midnite.... Telling her that gr 10 and pregnant was not her fault...
But not ready to be blamed...
A car full of friends on a birthday everyone will remember.... Not you.... An invitation was just another responsibility...
Then it was a desperate attempt to build a Castle... A futon in the midlle of a tiny living room...
The shame of your mother when you called her grandma... Disappointment was now all they expected... Now being the exact definition of Expected Disappointment...
A jewellery store... The lady with thick rimmed glasses muttering "Your too young"...
Feeling that the 6 months with her could be stretched....
The first time I felt YOU move.....
Now knowing that no matter how bad I was at everything.... You will now always be the best....
Those were the nights you weren' t wasted... Now you realize wasted isnt an Emotion Its a Time...
Maybe it was that time she fell asleep in tears... Because less than two months before her mom made me sleep on the floor...
Her mom was right i hated her all along but the outcome would be as comforting as it was frightening....
I could say anything to make you sleep with me but nothing made you feel loved...
Your letters stopped having those hearts over i's.... You all the sudden became 6'4... And all i could do was try to hold you...
No more all night parties... Opening walls to find  hidden furnaces..... Eviction notices.... Disconnect letters.... Empty bank accounts....That could no longer be "normal".....
Those two days of stimulated sundowns and then sun ups.....
You should have never come there... I was the mistake a dark eyed monster....
The baby blue car.... A 45 minute ride.... A realization that birth isnt just on Tv....... This was happening!!.....
And you truly brought your best...
If i could live that moment again i would wear a suit....
How my ridiculous spikes were a hairstyle no longer approved.... Maybe a butler... Because you know now...
How that moment where you saw each other will be Forever....
That nite where 36hrs no longer mattered because it was time you were without her....
A heaven spelled backwards... Not just a name but a promise......
She aged a lifetime that night.... A choice was made….. A quiet contract between them...
Oh god why didnt i sign?.. All the teddy bears in the world would mean nothing now....
I cant remember a ***** diaper... A day of teething.... Her first sounds or The time she wanted me.....
Sorry is not a word that can be ok.... I cant tell her sorry….. I don’t deserve to feel ok….
36hrs is just about the time it takes to never be a man…. I was not doing them a favor they never told me "No"….
I can only hope I was 36 hrs of someone else's pain….
Because I can not remember anything before that……..

i would write
for you, sunshine
friend.
but it is just past
midnite.

i would write
for you sky, clear
bright blue.
but outside my
window,
stormy grey.


so i write for
you.
this...
as i go
to my slumber.

i check my toddler
boy.
who sleeps like
a snail,
*** in the air,
and feet tucked
under.
and glorious sleepy
face.

as i watch
sunshine
blooms
once again
in my heart
and the
world sings joy.

this, friend,
noah blue.
this sunshine,
i share with you.

Happy Birthday to you Toni, may you be supping many cold pina colladas in old Mehico with my boy Gumtree Gebbie.

Only know it’s your birthday because it also happens to be our 33rd wedding anniversary. 33 years with the old Sheila….Gawd!

She phoned me a few minutes ago to remind me…I’m sitting at my early morning desk writing out purchase orders, she is sitting up in bed at Taranaki, with a hot cup of tea issuing orders.

Something about the order of things there??

Off home this afternoon with a car full of ***** washing, fresh strawberrys and bunches of asparagus picked this morning. I’ve got instructions to mow the ****** lawns, **** eat the verges and trim the ****** hedges, pick up her DVD and newest novel from the New Plymouth library as I pass through…and get here by 6pm or you’ll be late for tea….again!!!

Paradise this marriage business, effing paradise!

On Sunday we plan to celebrate the New Year by having dinner at the Sugar Juice café in Opunake…which will be an event!....then we are off to the “Everyman's Cinema” in Opunake which is run by a farmers wife who, incidentally, wears loud print, tent like dresses, is about 4 axe handles wide and speaks with a distinctly unpleasant nasal twang. The “Everyman's Cinema” is famous for its seating arrangement…. 120 ancient couches spread before the silver screen from which patrons are encouraged to drink their own ***** and crunch away on packets of noisy potato chips….Should be fun…”no bookings necessary” she nasally informed. ….Movie on offer “****** on the Orient Express”

Mum and I should be home, tucked up in bed and snoring… well before midnite!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Luv Dad

  PS: HAPPY NEW YEAR to both you fellas and your lovely ladies, may your festivities match ours and may good things happen to us all in the new year ahead…..We deserve it !

Cheers dears Dad

Episode A, as lives are recalled to the tv gen...
Exposure to constant new
boxes of thought
in the quantum foaming theory
bubbling in my soul,
gurgling in my gut, and guffawing

in my impression of Little Luke McCoy,
in the barracks, got
a big laugh, from Harvey Silverman, whom
I gave company, unawares mind you, he was a stranger
I was being kind,
he made the rules for a bathroom craps game.
No more roles after midnite,
I said Aight, and we rolled the bones, and they
rolled my way, at E-2 pay,
sync'tupwatches witness, it is an new day,

Harvey Silverman, from Las Vegas, via Philly,
he says, I owe u 12 hundred dallahs,
let me break the rule,
he asks my permission, then makes eight
straight passes,
and I believe my eyes, I was that guy,

Silverman died.

Happy Birthday to you Toni, may you be supping many cold pina colladas in old Mehico with my boy Gumtree Gebbie.
Only know it’s your birthday because it also happens to be our 33rd wedding anniversary. 33 years with the old Sheila….Gawd!
She phoned me a few minutes ago to remind me…I’m sitting at my early morning desk writing out purchase orders, she is sitting up in bed at Taranaki, with a hot cup of tea issuing orders.
Something about the order of things there??

Off home this afternoon with a car full of ***** washing, fresh strawberrys and bunches of asparagus picked this morning. I’ve got instructions to mow the ****** lawns, **** eat the verges and trim the ****** hedges, pick up her DVD and newest novel from the New Plymouth library as I pass through…and get here by 6pm or you’ll be late for tea….again!!!
Paradise this marriage business, ******* paradise!

On Sunday we plan to celebrate the New Year by having dinner at the Sugar Plum café in Opunake…which will be an event!....then we are off to the “Peoples Cinema” in Opunake which is run by a farmers wife who, incidentally, wears loud print, tent like dresses, is about 4 axe handles wide and speaks with a distinctly unpleasant nasal twang. The “Peoples Cinema” is famous for its seating arrangement…. 120 ancient couches spread before the silver screen from which patrons are encouraged to drink their own ***** and crunch away on packets of noisy potato chips….Should be fun…”no bookings necessary” she nasally informed. ….Movie on offer “****** on the Orient Express”
Mum and I should be home, tucked up in bed and snoring… well before midnite!
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Luv Dad

PS: HAPPY NEW YEAR to both you fellas and your lovely ladies, may your festivities match ours and may good things happen to us all in the new year ahead…..We deserve it !
Cheers dears  Dad