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"montauk" poems
She was just a girl All that time she was dead Now she lives only for the money Only for her lover Ag She thinks hiis name is magical Oh and what she would give to him To be loved one more time She forgot what an awesome gangster he can be She is like a night fairy Ready for their ride Meets us in Montauk Flora, why are you so shy? A big kiss kiss from gallant A big kiss kiss from paramour Take her to the hollywood The night stars saved her Now she is a lonely rider loved by the stars She falls in love with every man she sees One-day lovers forever She was blown away To the Montauk, Montauk What a mess she was all that time She is fake, she flakes She forgot what an awesome gangster he can be She is like a night fairy Ready for their ride Meets us in Montauk Flora, why are you so shy? A big kiss kiss from gallant A big kiss kiss from paramour Take her to the hollywood She is a splitting heartbreaker He is a lustful love maker She knows that one day they will be a perfect couple A sensuous, caddish couple She is a splitting heartbreaker He is a lustful love maker She knows that one day they will be a perfect couple A sensuous, caddish couple She forgot what an awesome gangster he can be She is like a night fairy Ready for their ride Meets us in Montauk Flora, why are you so shy? A big kiss kiss from gallant A big kiss kiss from paramour Take her to the hollywood
0
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 8:34 AM UTC
Flora
a hinterland there has corn and orient ties in court with his golden tight sweater so he'd cook tempura right with his catch of roughy 'bout now and in his kind place in Montauk
0
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 1:31 PM UTC
astral kitchen
Clementine deleted Joel from her mind. Joel tried to forget her; he couldn't, so he got rid of her too. You try, I know, to get rid of me. I try, you know, to pretend that the world isn't spinning so fast in the hope that we will fall of its spinning-top edge and stumble, clumsily, gracelessly, into each other. We're spinning so fast with it- the world- so this is unlikely, so we both pretend that it's an accident when we fall into each other, again and again, as We play spin the bottle while The world spins instead. Suddenly. Now that that same world has stilled itself for us: we don't know what to do without its rotationary madness angling us towards old age and crumpets (together?). That same world has stilled itself until tomorrow when that same world will spill itself out from day to night to day again as we take our respective first drafts of our poems written about each other and Edit. out that same mad spin that made us us just like Joel and Clementine forgot- on purpose. We forget, on purpose with purpose but, we'll still meet each other in Montauk where that same world will still itself as we wrap our fingers around each other's fingers in the cold where you might finally reciprocate my lacklustre confessions. You too, right?
0
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
Montauk.
Like you were a first trip to NYC, or a perfect view of the cosmos from that clearing on Sylvan Avenue, I was agape and fawning while you sauntered out from your double doors, to the end of your driveway, to where I rocked on my heels eagerly on Allen Dr. at 6:23 Come 7:15, we bedecked your body with stripped and frayed Armani in tribute to the Walkers we've seen; cool-white fluorescence drew emphasis on the harmony between your ivory simper and each cobalt marble that rolled and flicked beneath your tuckered eyelids by some sort of beatnik artistry. Frankly, my chest swelled with fever when I noted the scrunch of your nose askance to liquid-latex applications, or the way black cherry sap wept from the corners of your mouth while dislodging the blood-capsule in-between your molars and your stately, hollow cheek at 7:50 And I noticed around 8:00, when I had slowed you to a halt near the crosswalk on Montauk between Coastal and Le Soir to fix the scar-tissue on your chin, that if I ever knew there to be one, you made a most stunning zombie with my Tom & Jerry cap lining your scalp; Which made the stain left by the makeup worth the trade of my hat in exchange for your company, as we picked up a twelve-pack at the 7-11 just down the street before we returned to the party.
0
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 8:05 PM UTC
Zombies in Snapbacks
Mona. Lisa. Lee-ah nardo how do YOU know my mom. I remember having pizza with ya the other night, we watched the "Da Vinci Code" after we had that fight, about Montauk hotdog tripe flavored ice cream. Even the audience doesn't think that's yummy! You taught, me how to knit chocolate and wish upon the sun. Did you mom? Am I your son? I'd prefer pecon pie. No-body likes pecans in my family. Did Leo like legumes ? ****** I may always be cursed with writing words that make reference to obscure astrology. My apologies to his groupies who think he's the best ******* art-east since slice bread. But how would it feel to had some dude who painted your mom and it was the big-gust most successful commercial success through out time?
0
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:32 PM UTC
Slam Poet Thinks the Mona Lisa is His Mother
Pale/sheet white Daisy hued valentines Springtime comes-- Flowers grow, larks crow In heavy snow. In restless dream Lies gentle day-- Effervescent sunlight Breaks icicle caves Into marvellous reflections: Beauty and strength. Blanket soft tendrils Reverse hearts decay. Beams of aquamarine Melt chocolate and tears-- Kinds words meet scarlet blush. Let's dance on blueberry hill Swim in the sea of love. (Meet me in Montauk) Crashing waves no longer scare For they are as pleasant as bubbling laughter In the nest of your arms <infinity
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Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
Love, S'ana
She said so go, halfway through the show, she was a nut but exciting all the same, I ran like a scared kid running from the word no, but I turned and asked to stay, for this was always her play, and I was just an extra, but I couldn't and I came walking back fast, I couldn't let our scene and sunrise fade into the past, halfway mad, halfway sad, I asked her to stay, with a smile and a tear in her eyes, I held her hand, at a Lake in Montauk we watched the skies, our own doomsday sunrise.
0
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 8:14 PM UTC
Doomsday Sunrise
*the winters here in montauk had frozen me i am now brittle bones blood on my lips lilac veins vivid on my skin silvery i can no longer count all these dead nights for my fingertips have grown a little numb the exact way the crystal stem of the limpid glass between yours can never grasp your heat the very way that sinful scarlet liquid bead perch on your full crimson lips unaware of its good fortune precisely the way that beauty on the other end of the table veiled burnt sienna will cravingly gaze into your worried eyes but only one of two hearts will glow the other will remain mundane and mine will always yearn*
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Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 9:07 AM UTC
frozen poet and drunken lover
I am pretty sure my love will be leaving me soon for a woman whose skirt does not lift in the zephyr of her sadness: we kiss and we tie maraschino cherry stems with our tongues. The same labyrinth puts rosy skin in our teeth, here is his ***** hair knotted with saliva. When I think I have everything, it just means that we are stuck together – I realize it does not mean that we are happy together. I think someone poisoned the water with glue, and it is I who dispenses more to let my love escape me. He is as happy as a child who has finished a puzzle except for a single missing piece, repeating the movements again and again. That has got to bring it back. For seven months, we have been handed the gift of pretending I can feel the inner-workings of who he is and why he is and I am pretty sure he knows he never has to pretend again. It is there in the silences: across the room, across the ocean where hundreds of babies have died, babes with mothers and fathers and parents who weren’t divorced. All I hear is my love toying with a Rubik’s cube he never learned to complete. I have a Magic 8 ball saying I should let him go. I mostly worry about telling my mom, who will tell my therapist and then we will have to close too many doors. As long as I am sad, they are locked. A key is stuck in the mud or in someone’s molars – my room is empty, the air is quiet, and he has not even left me yet.
0
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
montauk
__The waves pound against the sand The heatness burning against my heart People talking Listening to music Waves splash on the shore At its maximum volume Salty bubbles form Kids surf I see yellow, pink, and blue boards Lapping on top of the waves Elders drink punch, Children eat sandy sandwiches, Babies build their masterpiece sand castles, Lifeguards look out, And I'm shouting about, "Go Montauk!"
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Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 1:36 PM UTC
"Montauk"
I’ve been struck down again, fully aware it’s my own doing. Do you have a heart you can lend? Mine’s drying from the taping and the glueing. Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my sweet Clementine, are you smiling or are you snarling, more importantly are you mine? Outside the window seasons blend, the temperature holds no meaning. I notice the change and the trend, to ignore the withdrawals from weaning. Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my sweet Clementine, you’ve been avoiding and been barring, but you can’t severe this line. The stronger the initial fear usually means the most is at stake, and trying to prevent a single tear can lead to the worst heartbreak. Those who leave the best memories usually leave us with the most hurt, you know we can’t just live life with ease, there needs to be some blood on a white shirt. You can try to completely forget someone, but putting that effort in means you’re actually fixated more, and after all is said and done, honestly who do you wish to be behind that door? Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my sweet Clementine, is it cleansing or more harming, to live in denial all the time? Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my sweet Clementine, when it’s finished it’ll be starting, and I’ll stand under the Montauk sign.
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Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 7:07 AM UTC
Agent Orange
there's one crow left this side of the ****** i'm the child with no socks and shoes dancing delirious in a field of sunflowers spinning in an industrial jungle my arms wrapped around yours like my hands on the monkey bars the Indian magic wont heal this heart can i drown in Valerian? drunk on the missed sleep your lips move at night they spin tales of things long since past i am the crow singular lonely my broken oil drunk wings wont flap you're crushing me god the memories make me want to pull out my hair the scars on your arm speak volumes i wish i could spin new ones along my flesh please my dear lets not drag this out lynch me quick and i'll be the eternal child in your grasp forever more a secret romance hidden in the back of my mind deep in montauk... god bless you my dear
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Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 6:31 AM UTC
you...
Okay New York here we go, today's the day. That we're speaking in memory of someone who spent their whole life pretending to be someone they never could be Loved by many but everyone who has ever loved you was a figment of your imagination What is a person without a spine to hold them up right? A snake in every sense of the word. You slithered around your whole life glorifying your misery for a retweet and a spot at an open mic What better describes the life of a starving artist than to sleep in your car but be found dead in the morning You said you wished she would meet you at the rocks in Montauk but you were at rock bottom the whole time and no one would meet you there. And you were down with abandoned ship that washed up against your loneliness And abandoned things should stay abandoned when they're full of black mold and pathetic I wrote this poem with my left hand because you felt like you were someone else And I used my left hand when I finally pulled the plug Time of death November 28th 1986
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Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 1:25 PM UTC
This is a eulogy but might as well be a subtweet
" We all have that special place; that Montauk, Paris, or Vienna we share with someone very dear to us. So meet me in Montauk, meet me where the Sun touches, meet me where my heart fell to pieces, meet me where you first told me about your dreams, meet me where we first met. Our souls were meant for adventure and peace, and both I find with you."
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Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 11:49 PM UTC
That special place
Something amazing happened last week For a moment I felt what it was like to be young again With my memories I can never quite get there But I try I’ll close my eyes when I eat a chipwich it tastes like running back to our beach umbrella with sticky fingers the summer we rented a cottage in Montauk I long for the itchy feeling of sand in my bathing suit and for the salt to sting my eyes again That would be heaven But I still throw the wrapper away in the stainless steel trash can beneath the sink in my apartment that is exactly two hundred miles and twenty three years from Ditch Plains It hurts sometimes to remember how much I have forgotten When we had dance parties to the Austin Powers soundtrack When watching mom get dressed and waiting for the babysitter and kissing you goodbye and chicken nuggets for dinner was the best feeling in the world Because I knew I could always expect the smell of your coffee in the morning those days when we lived in the red house on Craft Avenue. But last week in the backseat of a friend’s car driving back to Boston after a long hike I watched the gray forest pass by outside my window and I fought to keep my eyes open I was no longer thirty-five I knew the moment would come when I would be lifted out of my car seat and brought inside where you would light a fire and mom would make hot chocolate for us And later we would eat homemade popcorn and watch Titanic as our winter boots lay on their sides in the front hall the snow between the treads slowly melting and darkening the wood floor I felt very safe inside that car the kind that only a child on the brim of sleep can feel I don’t know if I will feel that way again But I will still close my eyes when I eat a chipwich and wait for the smell of your coffee in the morning
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Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 1:27 PM UTC
Two Hundred Miles and Twenty-three Years
Something amazing happened last week For a moment I felt what it was like to be young again With my memories I can never quite get there But I try I’ll close my eyes when I eat a chipwich it tastes like running back to our beach umbrella with sticky fingers the summer we rented a cottage in Montauk I long for the itchy feeling of sand in my bathing suit and for the salt to sting my eyes again That would be heaven But I still throw the wrapper away in the stainless steel trash can beneath the sink in my apartment that is exactly two hundred miles and twenty three years from Ditch Plains It hurts sometimes to remember how much I have forgotten When we had dance parties to the Austin Powers soundtrack When watching mom get dressed and waiting for the babysitter and kissing you goodbye and chicken nuggets for dinner was the best feeling in the world Because I knew I could always expect the smell of your coffee in the morning those days when we lived in the red house on Craft Avenue. But last week in the backseat of a friend’s car driving back to Boston after a long hike I watched the gray forest pass by outside my window and I fought to keep my eyes open I was no longer thirty-five I knew the moment would come when I would be lifted out of my car seat and brought inside where you would light a fire and mom would make hot chocolate for us And later we would eat homemade popcorn and watch Titanic as our winter boots lay on their sides in the front hall the snow between the treads slowly melting and darkening the wood floor I felt very safe inside that car the kind that only a child on the brim of sleep can feel I don’t know if I will feel that way again But I will still close my eyes when I eat a chipwich and wait for the smell of your coffee in the morning
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42
i keep you with me always you visit me in the space between sunset and moonrise, in that world i belong to you. keeping our memories loccked up tight, keeping them safe in their heart shaped boxes. i go back to them each night, a land of whispered promises and starlit worship. i know if i could go back there's not one i would erase. despite the hurt, despite the loss, you were my masterpiece.
0
Jul 12, 2019
Jul 12, 2019 at 4:57 AM UTC
montauk
I want the procedure done right away Erase her from my thoughts, eradicate each memory I used to believe that you would save me, but as I'm drifting off to sleep I know that you'll be gone by morning We laid out on the ice and I'm just exactly where I want to be, I've never felt that Your impulse to throw me out has caused both our minds to drown in a sea of dying memories We trace our footsteps back and put our time here to rest but I can't remember anything without you, so when I wake, there will be nothing left How could I have suppressed the memory of the day we first met? Please let me keep this one I want to call it off, can somebody wake me up? I don't want this anymore I'm holding on to your love but they won't stop 'til it's dead You and I both know soon it will be over, so we cherish all that we have left Clementine, I tried to rip you from my mind Each pray'r accepted, each wish resigned How happy is the blameless vestal's lot, the world forgetting by the world forgot Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, each pray'r accepted, each wish resigned I'll find you when I wake and we'll try again I'll meet you in Montauk my dear old friend
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Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 11:26 PM UTC
Spotless Minds
i want to go to the hospital i miss the pale sterility; human care on command i want to stop being illogical i miss childlike passivity; you just don't understand my existence is infinitesmal i'm a waste of human life but i want you to stay with me oh, please, at least for the night help me forget about this would-be i refuse to meet him in montauk or anywhere, for that matter the memory of him hurts me nothing he said, did, or could **** made me feel like i was better my existence is infinitesmal i'm a waste of human life but i want you to stay with me oh, please, at least for the night forget about the women that i say that i am really into i could change my sexuality you don't even have to listen to me, that's too much to put you through i lack the correct mentality my existence is infinitesmal i'm a waste of human life but i want you to stay with me oh, please, at least for the night
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Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 9:45 AM UTC
Song of Dependence
Here, the universe If you gotta fixture to same need Lays on different intentions What it is? you universe Not to tell that it is a disaster Universe you only know Beginning and the end Having cleverly trapped us All in between.
0
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 3:59 PM UTC
Montauk never the same
the sun will always set and rise -- but my mind is endless it can't decide what weather it wants to be today well, yesterday it was sunny even though it was cold and rainy it was beautiful in my eyes with my love, it's a montauk beach day that's perfectly sunny and warm drinking piña coladas but god, when im not with him it's just like yesterday's weather. it's so cold, sad to be outside maybe that's the weather today, except no rain it's just sad
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Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 9:51 PM UTC
the forecast today is...
i wonder when i will see a BMW as just a car and not a haven--an earthy smelling burnt orange cemetery for memories of road trips with my feet on the dash, your disapproving glance but the windows rolled too far down to care. my skin seared in the summer sun, piling sandwich upon iced coffee just to drive back to your house and park in front of the TV. Picnics on the bench. You sweating under the sunlight to see my smile. New Haven train station, at early evening and the middle of the night, sprinting with hands locked toward the next adventure. Your hand off the shift and on my leg. Trusting that we wouldn't crash as we zipped through the woods late at night, eager to crash and sleep the day away. Everything I've pushed away to cope. Your broken tape player, the heated seats cranked on my side without prompt. Taking the long route for dinner on Whitney Ave. Parking lot coffee dates and people-watching Sundays, the day you drove to Montauk at sunrise to catch the ferry while I slept by your side; the only time I've ever seen you awake before dawn. Our movement together; our bickering, the radio tuned to obscurities blasting with open windows to see who noticed. Hotel sleepovers in the Connecticut countryside, and Rhode Island for the day. Car *** and Long Island nights parked by the water, the humid heat in my hair, salt and trees in my mouth. The sound of the locking door, the key held clenched between your teeth. The humming engine and your backwards hat perched. I don't know which permeates my mind the most, but when an m3 shows up in the rear view mirror I blink back tears until it fades away.
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Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 6:04 PM UTC
forty dollars of regular, please
i wonder when i will see a BMW as just a car and not a haven--an earthy smelling burnt orange cemetery for memories of road trips with my feet on the dash, your disapproving glance but the windows rolled too far down to care. my skin seared in the summer sun, piling sandwich upon iced coffee just to drive back to your house and park in front of the TV. Picnics on the bench. You sweating under the sunlight to see my smile. New Haven train station, at early evening and the middle of the night, sprinting with hands locked toward the next adventure. Your hand off the shift and on my leg. Trusting that we wouldn't crash as we zipped through the woods late at night, eager to crash and sleep the day away. Everything I've pushed away to cope. Your broken tape player, the heated seats cranked on my side without prompt. Taking the long route for dinner on Whitney Ave. Parking lot coffee dates and people-watching Sundays, the day you drove to Montauk at sunrise to catch the ferry while I slept by your side; the only time I've ever seen you awake before dawn. Our movement together; our bickering, the radio tuned to obscurities blasting with open windows to see who noticed. Hotel sleepovers in the Connecticut countryside, and Rhode Island for the day. Car *** and Long Island nights parked by the water, the humid heat in my hair, salt and trees in my mouth. The sound of the locking door, the key held clenched between your teeth. The humming engine and your backwards hat perched. I don't know which permeates my mind the most, but when an m3 shows up in the rear view mirror I blink back tears until it fades away.
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33
Under the Bridge, along the Promenade: we walked with words trickling through our waxy lips. Where the Seafront was all silk. Where the Waxwings, sealed wax tips, lumbered about the Empyrean yonder: splayed upon a Canvas of Sapphire and Azure. Before the Starry Night has come. Before we reached the Shore only to Digress. "Liebe verleiht Flügel," I heard, or read in a Book. The Streets are crimson rust; The Spectators in Sanitariums watched drab passersby. They shambled and coughed admixt the crowded room, only to find the Peristyle vacant and dead. A Mantic Women, cards of dread, stands on the corner; our eyes catched, and She speaks: "Wo bist du?" "Wo bist du?" Louder and fists shaking: "Wo bist du?" The buildings doddered, filled with Cuscuta. In Montauk, where we met, now withered, covered in snow, I stood - my comportment unsteady. Flashing in the distance I see Point Light - Captain Kidd musing with his Money Ponds - an Angel guiding wonderous blights - The Recognitions, blimey, Mr. Gaddis has gone blind - The Faustian apotheosis abound - The Streets are crimson rust filled with dread. Smelling of Jack-by-the-hedge - I'm walking... Noctivagant aura permeates - Mich.
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Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 8:18 PM UTC
Wo bist du?
Montauk What a shock Things unfought Stories not sought Maybe another plot? From what I got? Will I thought? A different shot? Will I be caught? Who cares, it’s not Their slot It’s not locked So I trot What if they bought Or if it’s snot And if they choose cots Anyways, I like the name Montauk
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Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 9:41 AM UTC
Montauk