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"potshots" poems
They seem to me to have to live in a public nightmare of being known even though nobody knows and it seems to me to be a surrealistic hell of flashing lights and strangers who know everything without knowing anything and people want a piece of them and people even take potshots at them so us little people should probably be happy that we're not famous.
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Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 3:37 AM UTC
I Pity The Poor Famous People
What do you do when you're feeling so blue? And you are under blue skies listening to the cries Of the terns and the gulls. The heart constantly pulls Me to the oceans shore Once there I'm not blue anymore. I stand skipping the stones Dreaming of lost sailors bones. But it's the battles I love the most Off the Cape of Good Hope or the Ivory Coast. I can hear the cannons roar and see broadsides score And I transport with delight into the thick of the fight. I drink *** with the matelots Take potshots at whatnots Those enemies of the crown I say let them sink down Into the cold arms of the deep I will not lose any sleep. But once more I find myself stood on the shore And I'm soaked to the skin. I hadn't noticed that the tide had come in. I'm such a dreamer. John Smallshaw 2011
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Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 7:27 AM UTC
I'm such a Dreamer.
Shes next the one The Bait dangled in my face Followed her from Beetle's to Market St. She stopped at the state liquor agent Her reflection in the bottles Strange and obtuse I trail in her shadow As she hits the main drag She's taking potshots from the brown bag Pitch black dress and a red purse Looks like she just woke up In the back of a hearse Cunning Taking to the street backs Like a cat to the fence Through the ghetto directing traffic with her hips Her pheromone trail has me licking my lips In the gaslamps I can make the outlines Of her unfinished tattoos The naked torso the bicep Weeping willow I gave her a million chances But she never answered the phone Galvanized by a single conversation Eyes An itch on the frontal lobe A fire in my chest her screams act like billows Steel grip on the nape of porcelain Anaconda uncoiling from the **** Naked I stand above her Lying all blue lipped against white sheets Gently I pose and photograph her This one's a keeper They say I hate women Nothing could be further from the truth
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Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 9:25 AM UTC
Meg
O where O where can my baby be, is she a dead mystery, now just ancient history? I have million dollar questions & I stand alone, holding the bag with an empty billfold. She wore swastikas on her forehead like scabs, etchings that perhaps blinded her heart & the bitterness did flow, a lifeblood hardening her sweet-soul. She acted bold, took wild risks, pulled people from the line-up, taking potshots with their emotions, play-acting with other humans, as if she were the only one with heart break. Well, little did she know, she had no monopoly on pain, I did.
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Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
She Had No Monoply on Pain (I Did)
"Fake news, fake news!" The boy cried fake news every time a story failed to paint him in the most positive possible light, neglected to deify him in the most sunny way. He denounced, decried and denigrated reporters who would check with two more sources if their moms claimed to love them the way their ink-stained forebears did. He attempted to discredit truth-seekers who actually had stricter codes of ethics than doctors, cops, actuaries, any profession really. The callow boy cried fake news so much that his most loyal followers shouted “fake news” out car windows at TV reporters reporting on alligators that crossed the street, fired drive-by potshots at newsrooms out of sheer lunacy. The boy cried fake news so much that he did protest too much, that his cries sounded fake, that his credibility strained against the press corps who produced backing documents, audio recordings and multiple sources. The boy cried fake news so much it degenerated into cliche and ceased to mean anything at all. The boy cried fake news at a time when the news felt financial pressured into running clickbait articles like “Eight Hanukkah Lessons I Learned from Smoking a Menorah **** or the “12 Most *** Days of Christmas.”
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Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 2:11 AM UTC
The Boy Who Cried Fake News
beginning: playing football in the communal playground pitched between mountains of concrete brown brick office blocks blockaded high street shops council housing kingdoms. memory; taking potshots at metal goalposts slicked with the rain and scabbed spray paint till the olders kick us aside basketballs in hand for freethrows from the poverty line. unlearning; to think love like marble too cold and rich to touch in fear that it’d turn out to be ***** like two boys looking at each other for too long can leave stains no amount of febreze can air out. end; i still can’t sleep in your arms but you never stop searching for me in yours all there is left to do is let myself be found.
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Oct 5, 2020
Oct 5, 2020 at 8:17 PM UTC
personal history
sharing a dilapidated porch and shrinking fifth of jim beam with my friend pete we’re in maine celebrating his fourth novel eagerly awaited by his ten fans the sun is sinking and pete has his ruger 380 taking potshots at a statue of cervantes on the lawn “what’s your issue?” i ask as he clips cervantes’ shoulder “jealousy?” “no,” he drawls, casually reloading ******* never wrote a followup to don quixote”
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Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 9:52 PM UTC
LITERARY CRITICISM
I don’t know what to make of this. The half-naked Russian model rupturing in the tub, one hand rubbing salt from her habit of weakness, another clutched a swill of wine. Her pill-loaded lover, always blurring. Both too young to bear the death poem of lullabies. In another room, in another town, a redhead stranger sits soaking next to me, governing my drunk body back to senses with her mouth. Outside, a gaggle of youths perch the water’s edge, lapping beer from a spillage of shadows. Soon, they’ll beat their wings madly and rush the night air, running on nothing but *** ***** and lace. Giddy and octane. I won’t know what to do with it or make of it, still, years later in life… an even more ragged crackpot, taking potshots at poems.
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Apr 27, 2019
Apr 27, 2019 at 8:43 AM UTC
this is a memory