"nickel" poems
There were dividing lines
between Springfield
and Mariners Gate
soft, subtle lines
that spoke of origin
and code
and biting union
it was all
the reason
for being;
alive and living
dead or dying
deep in a pack
of pint size resistors
hell bent on the
marsh crow
and cannabis tower
jumping the rush
with *** shots
and anchors
and tribunals
camouflage creepers
and transient floaters
marked rebellion at the gates
(skullduggery and taunt
high on their favor list)
jack straws and flat paddles
for the evening charade
beakers and flailing hands
from the foot washing baptist
(the Pleasant Street conservatives with their
own something to say…“there’s gonna be hell to pay!”)
there's a
lingering effect
to this sentiment
(evident in the pump house stride)
the river winds
blow gently
into the night
as the huddling packers
and **** backs
chase the evening hours
it’s a bitter sweet
end of an era;
those traction bars
hood scoops
and nickel bags
will always
be the rage
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 11:13 PM UTC
I went out to find
Some value in me,
So I sold what I had
For little a fee.
My eyes for a penny
I sold to some fools,
They're blind and useless,
Mistook for jewels.
My lips for a nickel
To the sweetest sin,
So they'll know the love
That has never been.
My ears for a dime
I sold to a lover.
To hear sweet nothings,
And silence uncover.
My hands for a quarter
I sold to a ghost,
So that she might feel
What I've wanted the most.
Finally my bones for a dollar
I sold to the earth,
But as for my soul-
There was found no worth.
Aug 10, 2019
Aug 10, 2019 at 5:23 PM UTC
Bees build around red liver,
Ants build around black bone.
It has begun: the tearing, the trampling on silks,
It has begun: the breaking of glass, wood, copper, nickel, silver, foam
Of gypsum, iron sheets, violin strings, trumpets, leaves, ***** crystals.
**** Phosphorescent fire from yellow walls
Engulfs animal and human hair.
Bees build around the honeycomb of lungs,
Ants build around white bone.
Torn is paper, rubber, linen, leather, flax,
Fiber, fabrics, cellulose, snakeskin, wire.
The roof and the wall collapse in flame and heat seizes the foundations.
Now there is only the earth, sandy, trodden down,
With one leafless tree.
Slowly, boring a tunnel, a guardian mole makes his way,
With a small red lamp fastened to his forehead.
He touches buried bodies, counts them, pushes on,
He distinguishes human ashes by their luminous vapor,
The ashes of each man by a different part of the spectrum.
Bees build around a red trace.
Ants build around the place left by my body.
I am afraid, so afraid of the guardian mole.
He has swollen eyelids, like a Patriarch
Who has sat much in the light of candles
Reading the great book of the species.
What will I tell him, I, a Jew of the New Testament,
Waiting two thousand years for the second coming of Jesus?
My broken body will deliver me to his sight
And he will count me among the helpers of death:
The uncircumcised.
21.5k
Love is slippery and fickle,
Yet it can exist without a single nickel,
When you have feelings of doubt, to say the least,
Won't you look into the eyes of the Blue Eyed Beast?
Love is not always as it seems,
What may seem good may lead you to dark desolate realms,
When all feelings of hope have thoroughly deceased,
Won’t you look into the eyes of the Blue Eyed Beast?
Love is able to possess one into doing the unwise,
Such acts will certainly lead humanity to its demise,
When your optimism is completely released,
Won’t you look into the eyes of the Blue Eyed Beast?
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 9:42 AM UTC
And when I met that girl in San Francisco
Off a dusty little pier
with rotting wood
and squawking seals
And screaming bayside wind
She caught me off-tropics
and danced with the grace
of a palm tree
lines between the quaked
concrete
off telegraph avenue
On an obscuring Sunday morning
and no
she didn't go
to church or any silly thing
like a temple or synagogue
She said those were no places
for god
God was the trees
We smoked cigarettes and got off to each other's
carcinogenic practices
oxidizing a little faster in conjunction with hopeful
Formaldehyde
Deriding the formalities
of small talk and trivialities
She liked her guitars with nickel-wound strings
I with nylon
But I couldn't play songs
that sounded any good with them
while she could
and did.
and girl did it ever sound good
She'd laugh at the contests on the radio
while we drove on a half-moon
to half-moon
full and whole of ourselves
We'd stopped in the lobby of a cheap motel
And waltzed to background
muzak
wacked out of our minds
Sniffing in deep huffs of subliminal
divinity
Understanding
loving
that mind-numbing
monotony
muzak...
ppsh.
Who ever really listened to that?
And then she left
at the end of one fine winter day
in a cloudless sky I waved
watched her plane
skip off
towards the edge of a pale blue horizon
back south
to warmer climes
to wherever she truly stayed
The tugging on my heartstrings
chimed grotesque in
precise
D minor.
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 9:23 PM UTC
Poverty
Holding on to me
Dragging me down
Down
D
O
W
N
There is no revival
There is no survival
No way to reclaim
The life that was mine
Trickling away
Nickel and dime
I can't support my family--
I can't even support myself
Can't let my children know
This lack of things to provide
Even though I want to;
When wants and needs collide.
I can't explain it to you
You wouldn't understand
This suffering I see
Sometimes I think it only happens
Just to me
I have so much hope for my children
They have to go further
Make more
Do more
Be more
More than I was
More than I am
I will never be what I want
This world, so costly
I can't help it- but mostly
It's the people in my life,
The ones I hold at night,
The people who keep me going
Poverty
Dragging me down
But I will not give up
I can't release hope
For my children and their children-
Break this cyclical way of living;
Break the death and deceiving
I am stuck, but I have hope
I have love and I can cope
But I can't hold on much longer
Ripped to shreds by the economy
I loved you, my daughter
Be more
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 10:12 AM UTC
My business is words. Words are like labels,
or coins, or better, like swarming bees.
I confess I am only broken by the sources of things;
as if words were counted like dead bees in the attic,
unbuckled from their yellow eyes and their dry wings.
I must always forget how one word is able to pick
out another, to manner another, until I have got
something I might have said...
but did not.
Your business is watching my words. But I
admit nothing. I work with my best, for instances,
when I can write my praise for a nickel machine,
that one night in Nevada: telling how the magic jackpot
came clacking three bells out, over the lucky screen.
But if you should say this is something it is not,
then I grow weak, remembering how my hands felt funny
and ridiculous and crowded with all
the believing money.
9.1k
"Calcium Phosphorus Oxygen Iodine Sodium Sulfur Tantalum Dysprosium. Oxygen Radium, Protactinium Radium Manganese Nickel Sodium Potassium Oxygen."
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 4:27 AM UTC
I swear I'm leaving right now
Yet I'm still running around in a rush
&& STILL no pants on
They lie somewhere on my floor
If I don't leave now I'm going be late for sure...hmm got everything.. OH WAIT!!!
SERIOUSLY...again..WOOOOW
FUUUUCK quit messing with your hair & put down your BRUSH!!
**** 15 minutes later **** & I'm still NOT gone
Almost out the door...
SON OF A BITCH...WHERE THE **** ARE MY KEYS..GREAT!!
Now speeding like a police chase
Weaving in & out of traffic lane by lane
Trying to beat the clock & it's tick tocks
A sound I SERIOUSLY ******* HATE
I'm barely on time, a few minutes to spare
It is a WAAAY too familiar race
It's an endless ******* trend, driving me insane
It's like a whole day of me wearing matching socks
SOOOOO, SO WHAT if I'm occasionally always LATE
At least I'm always never not eventually there but still at least there
&& DOESN'T MATTER where it is I'm going
If there is a specific time of arrival expected
Don't tell me that correct time
UNLESS..... In all actuality the arrival time is actually irrelevant
Since I know you have a "PARTY ALL THE TIME" way to celebrate
Then please keep on shuffling when my face is showing
Lateness is something I've so EPICALLY PERFECTED
If I had a nickel for every time I was early, I'd have a MOTHER ******* DIME!!!
Being on time & I have just always been so distant
That's why punctuality & I will never relate!!!
A WHITE RABBIT
GO, GO, GO
NOW IT'S MY ******* HABIT
WOULDN'T YA KNOW
ALWAYS IN A HURRY
YELLING "IM LATE! IM LATE!"
BUT I UNDERSTAND THAT FEELING OF WORRY
TRAGICALLY IT'S NOT THAT EASY TO ABOLISH OR ANNIHILATE
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
beautiful towers
crescent moon
under the bridge we hid from few
outlookers who saw us hand in hand
oh sue, nevermind next to you, I'll always stand
you said, "emily look out"
they can't catch us when we're on the periphery of your town
flower braids and hazy smiles
playing hide and seek up till a peculiar height
sue you do a lot of things
you say things so lovely
the only name ever
dancing on your tongue should be "emily"
harnessing a lot of love
my tongue's still tied, your face is unsure
tracing a pattern and making it travel through your moles
sue please dont give in
my heart's still beating
they can't know about us
and if they do
come with me
to the land of cottagecore
and if you say no then these all will be my questions,
"why would you touch me in a way your touch will linger?"
"why would you leave your best friends for a wine and some mingle?"
"why would you risk your life when i know your feelings dont fickle?"
"why would you gift me that pendant made of gold and covered in nickel?"
"why would you choose your abundant hours to teach me how to whistle?"
oh Sue, i know
you will never say no
just know, if you ever say yes
its you forever and ever and ever more.
Mar 27, 2021
Mar 27, 2021 at 7:42 PM UTC
i woke up this morning
locked myself in the bathroom
with whiskey beer and netflix
a hot steam shower and
aching thoughts for a cigarette
they said be strong you'll make it in time
but all i see is a negative sum numbers game
ad infinitum forevermore on & on & on
another day another nicked nickel through my fingers
so instead of being a "productive" member of society
i'm drunk at 8:00 am and wallowing in self pity
but hey the shows are free
but this shower's gunna cost me
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 8:21 AM UTC
EVERYBODY got ‘em a cell phone
pissant with not a nickel to pay his rent got him one
i ain’t got one or the quarter to use this pay phone
sittin’ there behind me waitin' for me to feed it
and hear that jingle like some slot machine that always pays out
temptin’ me like some shiny new toy
but i got two pennies and i ain’t even rubbin' them together
back then, back when nobody had no cell phone
i filed pennies down on the street to make them the size of dimes
when one of them dimes could by me a marshmallow pie
from a vendin’ machine at the bowlin’ alley
that ain’t there no more
but some cell phone store is
but that don’t matter
i don’t want no cell phone
i would like me one of them marshmallow pies
and an extra quarter to give this hungry phone
yesterday, some lady give me three quarters
and i give two of them to Jose to call his mama and sister
he gave me two smiles
i kept that other quarter to make a call
but couldn’t think of no number
or no soul
want to hear my voice
so i give that quarter to a little boy
who was all alone
and didn’t have no cell phone
Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 8:33 PM UTC
College is a cancer clinic.
At this university, you either live long enough to die,
or die until you want to live.
Kids drag backpacks like bags of morphine,
and are attached to their planners like they are their heart monitors.
You do your own chemotherapy,
as you poison yourself with debt,
and Friday night nickel shots.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
Please explain inflation
Why do prices rise
For when I go out shopping
They change before my eyes
I just don't seem to get it
why some go up and down
Why a red car's more expensive
Than a new car that is brown
I tried to do some simple math
I went back to the books
Now I think that all economists
Are just white collar crooks
Follow me on this one, now..
A buck in 1970 is now worth near five fifty
I don't know how they did it
But I think it's kind of shifty
A funeral costs much more today
But this one is a pickle
For in western movies I have seen
My life's worth a plugged nickel
That hasn't changed in many years
So, I made a decision
It has to do with the new math
And that ****** new long division
Wheat is up, and so is beer
And theres one that I resent
To put my worth in when it's asked
It's still just two **** cents
A house...well, that's a nightmare
Some cost more than you will earn
You'll be owing for a lifetime
Your mortgage you won't burn
Water, there's another thing
It's now worth more than gas
But now, our nice tap water
It's quality won't pass
Six cents would get you postage
To send a letter, that's not bad
Today..it's almost ten times that
And that is really sad
But here's one that's confusing
Of all the things you've bought
This one's never varied
It's still a penny for your thoughts
two bits could get a haircut
And it would also get a shave
But now to get this combo
It takes two weeks to save
Hockey cards they cost a dime
And baseball cards did too
But, now they're an investment
And a dime won't buy you two.
Please think on this real hard now
It's a tale that's really old
Let's find how Rumplestiltskin
Could spin straw into gold
Inflation is a ******
It's all over the earth
I say smile, and then bend over
And that's my two cents worth!
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 5:02 PM UTC
I’ve known some Wiccans in my time,
Sky clad witches!
Wicked! They
... chanted spells in words that rhyme.
I watched,
waiting,
wanting to play.
I neither sought portion nor spell—
not trusting the magic of it.
I thought them ******
all raised in Hell—
whose sinful flesh I yearned to get.
I met a witch named Sally Sue,
I took a longing for that Miss.
You won’t believe what she could do
with just a nickel and a kiss.
Her beauty rare,
she stole my heart,
that sky clad witch named Sally Sue.
She taught me secrets of her art.
She taught me things I never knew.
When moonlight’s full on Solstice eve,
their gossamer **** bodies dance.
And power men cannot conceive
is raised to give new life a chance.
Daughters from Hell? These Wiccans—
Nay!
With grace and beauty they create
more peace and love than words can say
to save a world, dying with hate.
But in despair we had to part—
I and my Wiccan, Sally Sue.
She left me with a broken heart
to do what only Wiccans do.
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010 at 2:23 PM UTC
handpicked blueberries in yogurt,
tea on the porch, Ellen,
in desperation to plant a raspberry bush.
jogging through a grasshopper field
holding in screams at the small green chirps
shooting up around my ankles.
grimy trails of sweat, the daddy longlegs
crawling out from under my thigh
the dirt at home under my nails.
nickel-bright stars above
the trees, a cool tress rising,
buzzing in the porch light of
bugs going for our jugulars,
still tight and smooth.
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
This is a song to celebrate banks,
Because they are full of money and you go into them and all
you hear is clinks and clanks,
Or maybe a sound like the wind in the trees on the hills,
Which is the rustling of the thousand dollar bills.
Most bankers dwell in marble halls,
Which they get to dwell in because they encourage deposits
and discourage withdrawals,
And particularly because they all observe one rule which woe
betides the banker who fails to heed it,
Which is you must never lend any money to anybody unless
they don't need it.
I know you, you cautious conservative banks!
If people are worried about their rent it is your duty to deny
them the loan of one nickel, yes, even one copper engraving
of the martyred son of the late Nancy Hanks;
Yes, if they request fifty dollars to pay for a baby you must
look at them like Tarzan looking at an uppity ape in the
jungle,
And tell them what do they think a bank is, anyhow, they had
better go get the money from their wife's aunt or ungle.
But suppose people come in and they have a million and they
want another million to pile on top of it,
Why, you brim with the milk of human kindness and you
urge them to accept every drop of it,
And you lend them the million so then they have two million
and this gives them the idea that they would be better off
with four,
So they already have two million as security so you have no
hesitation in lending them two more,
And all the vice-presidents nod their heads in rhythm,
And the only question asked is do the borrowers want the
money sent or do they want to take it withm.
Because I think they deserve our appreciation and thanks,
the ********* who go around saying that health and happi-
ness are everything and money isn't essential,
Because as soon as they have to borrow some unimportant
money to maintain their health and happiness they starve
to death so they can't go around any more sneering at good
old money, which is nothing short of providential.
4.5k
Orchid pod spreads
gossamer mouth opens
subtle click of saliva,
trace across the paper-thin petal,
tickle across the veins where blood rushes new life,
smooth like wet latex, tongue massages a route around the world,
face buried in field of color
osmopheric scent of cinnamon
apples
nickel
overcomes,
come over me
pour the dew across my lips
drown me in the waves
that make your muscles cry my name,
nine point nine and the world cracks open,
like the ghostly leftover milk bath
of a virgin's first cleansing after loss of maidenhead,
it spills over us.
Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 7:50 PM UTC
Old Cowboys, forts and shootouts
Black for bad and White for good
With a spinning canvas background
And cactus cutouts made of wood
The desert sits behind them
Fifty yards away at most
The heroes don't ride horses
They sip drinks and sit and boast
About their celluloid adventures
singing songs all dressed in white
While behind them in the background
The stunt men do it right
A canvas background rotates
Through valleys, hills and streams
While the hero rides his deck chair
And the director yells and screams
Central casting fills the tribes out
With Italians, and made up stock
While our hero stops an avalanche
Of fake paper covered rocks
Cardboard Cut out Cactus
And heroes smiling in the sun
Most have never seen a cowpoke
Let alone shot off a gun
But, it's magic when it's finished
the dusters up there on the screen
All the fakery and snake oil
Are all hidden, never seen
The white hats beat the black hats
The hero sings and gets the girl
And the background on the spindle
Is still spinning, watch it whirl
A celluloid adventure
Cowboys no where close to what they were
But..watch the next show for a nickel
And don't forget your spurs!!!
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
Saturday alone on a love seat
for two with my roommate
plucking away at twisted nickel
across the room.
Unshowered, unmotivated,
a maybe Monday.
My clean laundry's a footrest
for ***** feet fresh off the
almost autumn asphalt.
Come visit us.
Be unshowered and unmotivated
on this maybe Monday.
Don't worry, the door's unlocked.
There's just a few hundred
flamingos waiting to get in,
but they should move
at the sound of your unshowered,
unmotivated, maybe Monday footsteps
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
There is a man
who writes signs
for the homeless,
puts different lives
on display,
spends his time
night and day
over squares of cardboard
or triangles of vinyl,
he turns them into
war vets
or leukemia survivors,
he slaves away
so that they'll get
people to listen,
he wants people
to hear the heart
of the world murmuring
as it cries,
because we have left
them,
their lack of a place
to reside,
is our society's dark side,
so he is not a man
of the people
he is a man for the people,
he wants that spare
nickel,
dime,
or dollar
as much for them
as his words
are for himself
and his own sense
of redemption,
because this world
has gone cold on the surface
but it's heart
still burns,
still makes you uncomfortable,
when you see his signs
in the hands
of men and women
in the grassy medians.
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 7:28 PM UTC
There is a wondrous feeling of completeness
When immersed in the act of …
Cleaning a flute
The soft light radiantly refracting from
The slightly concave…
Keys
The shimmering of the shiny sleek skin
A perfect nickel finish…
It’s sexiness salute
A strangely seductive serpent stealing
My willpower; I submit to you…
With ease
The perfection of this harmonious union
As my trembling hands caress…
Your heavenly body
Gently working away until my eyes are
Illuminated by your brilliance…
Your gleaming sheen
Intoxicated, mesmerised by your lustre
The warm ambience brings out…
Your luminous beauty
Ready now for my lips to blow a refrain
A sweet tune is primed…
The flute is now clean
Let the melody begin…
Aug 22, 2011
Aug 22, 2011 at 9:22 AM UTC
Tax the poor and reward the rich
This line should be reversed
But, the politicians always use this line
It's a line they have rehearsed
As soon as they are voted in
They give themselves a raise
When we question what they did this for
They just sit there in a daze
They use all sorts of doublespeak
To tell us all their reasons
For taxing poor and elderly
The rich are out of season
A few cents here, a nickel there
No one will notice that
While our old folks sit at home
Sharing tinned food with their cat
Tax the poor and reward the rich
This line should be reversed
But, the politicians always use this line
It's a line they have rehearsed
As soon as they are voted in
They give themselves a raise
When we question what they did this for
They just sit there in a daze
The veterans they are targets too
Their pensions get rolled back
They hit those who can't defend themselves
Or are too poor to fight back
They give out tax cuts to the rich
Big business gets the most
While our working poor are stuck at home
Finding new ways to serve toast
They sell our jobs and tax our lives
Until we're better dead
But then we can't afford to die
We've no place to lay our head
They sit in ivory towers
Looking down on those below
Wondering how to get more money in
How to make their pockets grow
The parties not in power
Try their best to make a change
But to do that, we need lots of help
Parliament must rearrange
The way the parties govern
The way they ***** the meek
There must be changes at the top
To help strengthen the weak
There's people on the system
Who worked hard and did their part
Now they can't afford an apple
Let alone the apple cart
Tax the poor and reward the rich
This line should be reversed
But, the politicians always use this line
It's a line they have rehearsed
As soon as they are voted in
They give themselves a raise
When we question what they did this for
They just sit there in a daze
So, at the next election
Don't just vote because you should
Go and vote for something different
Go and vote for something good
Because your parents vote one colour
And you choose to do that too
Is not a true democracy
You've a choice in what to do
If you're voting for the first time
Think real hard before you pick
All their promises look tasty
Until you give them a good lick
Remember how your grandpa
Said "It was much better when"
"We were treated fair and equally"
And it can be done again
So if Tax the poor and reward the rich
Is the motto that you choose
I hope that you'll rememer this
When you can't afford new shoes
The time to change what's wrong is now
Start giving money back
To those who can't afford to lose
The one's who fall between the crack
So tax the rich, reward the poor
Take the tax cuts all away
And make our seniors equal
Don't make them be the ones that pay.
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 7:46 PM UTC
Today we all gather to listen to the merits(?) of mining the Iron Range
Not for iron, but for copper and nickel and other precious metals.
Are these metals more precious than clean water?
Are these metals more precious than our pristine wilderness?
Are these metals a legacy of what is to become of our planet Earth?
We have taken the oil and turned it into plastic that cannot be broken down and turned back into nature.
We have burned the coal to perpetuate our desire for more and more comfort via air conditioning and heat.
We have polluted our atmosphere, melted our icebergs and glaciers
Destroyed our coral reefs
And now we want to risk the pure waters of our northern wilderness
Reaching out to Lake Superior, Hudson Bay, the Mighty Mississippi
And our entire planet.
Why not keep a tiny part of our planet clean so that our children can say-
Look, this is what we once had, this was Eden in our parents' time.
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 8:53 AM UTC
It’s really a feeble attempt to make something between one and five work in our daily lives. They have gone from an intriguing idea and amount of worth to a silly little gift grandparents hand out freely on Valentine’s Day along with a card worth more than the contents. They've never set foot in any wallet of mine; they simply always made their way back behind my socks. The valuable of least worth I owned was never spent strictly based on rarity. These days you are a mistake just like all the other rarer coins like that three-legged buffalo nickel only I could maybe pay a bit of college tuition with one of those. You can bring in about four Lira though; enough to get a big bowl of any kind of noodles and sauce they have down at that restaurant in Istanbul near the Grand Bazaar. That night I stopped a little closer to my hotel and spent my last four on a beer with my meal. We kept walking and saw that young boy shivering as always against the cold vents that produced less heat than my freezer back home. No change jingled in my pockets because I had eaten my fill. A thousand suns heated my back without that jacket but the warmth was bitter like stolen Turkish Delights. I couldn't tell if he was going to drape that jacket around his tiny body or have it stolen by one of the bigger kids. We still spoke though. I know that was the day I discovered the language of the universe.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC