"pst" poems
<Sun May 14 5:00 AM PST>
Let us be smart about this departure,
time unscheduled, yet leaving inevitable,
the sound of fabric torn, a rent performed,
a ripping, a release of the gripping, connecting
tissue of weft and weave tying parent and child
*(All of us poets, all of us comprehend,
there are two points, two buttonholes
that offer escape or farewell, when we
commence on something new, when we
pen our chest’s demands to exhale, cease the hammering*
*Perhaps, here, just after the third stanza,
the brick enormity of our selected task, on chest,
weighs heavy, boulder difficulties ahead, now fastened
and faster and faster realized, begs us, quit this essay,
return to placid, from an arrhythmia of imploding loss)*
So many fabrics, so many tears, wet and dried,
but upon commencement, the only finish line,
is another commencement, when the (mine-own) rendering
is finalized, beyond repair, when guilt gulfs overflows, flooding
plains of forever pain officiated by signed scar, “here was”
So many separations, varied and variegated,
surficial shallow surgical or plunges, widths of trickle,
depths of deadly plunges, records of inches, dates,
names, new heights inscribed, measured on a door jamb,
lost, erased, when child’s door closes permanently
Came today to the West, to Pacific Ocean entrance,
to celebrate a good boy’s ritualized threshold crossing
over into manhood, both symbolic and and realized,
but tear-up seeing the small child-man leaning in and on
his father’s larger frame, a coinciding giving & taking
no bonds are eternal, for such is life, the weft must be
warped, sundered and separated, so many reasons,
experience speaks, scars are like bandages,protecting
but deceiving, what they cover can never be excised,
a space created, that only oxygen can touch both sides
but never, ever be reperfected, mended,…or finalized
2023
San Francisco
May 14, 2023
May 14, 2023 at 10:07 AM UTC
it’s 2pm PST
my PTSD is eating me
ring finger on control key
my poor and lonely body
Jan 14, 2022
Jan 14, 2022 at 9:29 PM UTC
Tonight, at work, I asked 10 people
if they knew of what had happened
at Los Angeles International Airport (henceforth: LAX)
not 30 hours earlier.
Only 2 had heard of it.
One, because a cousin was traveling that day
and, the other, because a regular at his restaurant
also had family who had left LAX just before it happened
just in time to be stopped with the rest of the traffic
for two and a half hours.
I find that sort-of strange;
information, even if misinformation
spreads too quickly and ubiquitously now-a-days
with our cell-phones, internet, satellite radio and media sensationalism
for a mere 1 in 5 to have heard of this,
and even then, only because of Family's accounts.
Apparently, he acted alone, wearing military-like clothes
and walked into LAX at about 9:20 AM PST on November 1
carrying a very cost-effective Military and Police AR-15
concealed in a bag with over a hundred spare .223 rounds
and a note with words of sociopolitical dissent
and an apparent intent to **** several Travel Security Agents.
He mortally wounded a single TSA agent, after two shots
and non-fatally wounded at least a few other people
including two other TSA agents.
This thorough chaos warranted sopping traffic, air and ground alike
for over two hours, until his apprehension
after being shot in the mouth and the leg
by valiant officers of the LAXPD.
Luckily, the Police had trained for
"this exact situation not three weeks before"
Wait, what was that?
Oh, that's.. impeccable timing.
Anyway.
Few know about it and even less discuss it
even a day and a half after it happened
only 550 miles from here.
I figured it'd be a bigger deal than this.
What is up with this?
It's rather srtange...
quite queer indeed.
The Suspect is in the hospital for his wounds and is now awaiting trial
for ****** and Inciting Violence in an International Airport.
Many people of Office cry out for the death penalty, even here in California,
where we like to think we've "grown past that"
The Travel Security Administration was established in the wake of 9/11
It is a branch of the Department of Defense.
It took me much digging to find all this information on this event. Here it is for any who seeks it.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 4:17 AM UTC
*yeah, let's compose the alphabet in music for each letter we try to sound like a wine bottle cork unplugged from vintage; it won't work, i known, but it might get a few skidding on gizmo go go, trying to democratise iran: try turning iran sunni first, you, you defrosted snowman worth a carrot and two chalk coal ******** writing: hardboiled into sight of believable. oh here comes a white man talking privy aloud with the rapper loosing breath, but keeping it up and replacing the pelvic hinges with easy, drool, rhymes; a kind of rubric tablature of scores for rodeo with alternative sounds to: moo, ow, ah, broomstick shoo, take the cow for a milking home from the dead bull dazzled into genesis on t.v.; or that other literati spectator sport of not reading but talking oneself into academic bibliography for an intro.*
the great thing about being an alcoholic...
you never quiet know
when you're drunk or hungover;
but it makes up for great twilight sunsets
pooh lonely; ah ooh smooch -
kisses a honey stick stuck to ****
in a hollywood crescendo of
paparazzi and applause;
and anorexia; and dyslexic oiling for a facelift:
that's called smiling i have you know -
enter michael jackson - hippie hip he;
if i die aged thirty, i'll be happy to have
been frisky twenty-nine into a thong.
*or, alt., tell ****** about the swimming pool and the tadpole kenyans sprinting into impregnated landownerships of priests: sounds like this: pst - herr führer - die schwimmin poolst erst niener jessy ovens geeignet. no one said that african buttocks couldn't bayou the ships ashore, but they did; what?! i'm not the 12" dangle! you keep up racism, i'll keep up mozart's austria; alt. please see how censoring adjectives in relation to objects gives you a false moral subjectivity that's only a matter of pleasantries.*
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
Sleepless in Seattle on my mind and in my feelings,
Making me feel moody and 90's,
Chunky belts and colorful, dark sweater,
Old airports in family comedies,
Big clunky landline phones,
When Harry Met Sally and I watched it on a plane for the first time last summer.
Baroque in my headphones and 1950's swing playing from the ceiling
Girls talking loud, so important,
Deciding options for their next photo shoot,
sweet and divine making their plans.
And me
Silently observing, enjoying
If I were an overweight man
probably
I would be creepy
But I am a nice package
They're in L.A. for the weekend.
Oh, they've been to London and "her boyfriend is an *******
She wore the baby blue, "it was my mother's", and it brings out her eyes
Why is he friend's with Madeline?
She's a *****
But we like her. She's very bold.
Plans laid and heading out. Good for them.
And I'm still here.
Ache in my neck,
Baroque in my ears (because I heard it improves learning and slows heart rate),
This anti-poem coming from my fingertips
Alone in this cafe and now the mood has shifted.
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 9:34 PM UTC
Darkness envelopes me like a thin grey blanket
Listen to sleeping body snores warm beside me
Imaginary ghosts emerge out of the shadows
Tomorrow’s plans become tonight’s mental list.
Twist and turn, heart beats fast, should sleep
Can’t sleep, get up, drink tea, read email, yawn
Email replies at three clears the decks, wide awake
Online yesterday’s Irish Times becomes today’s.
Skype “Hi” to friends on PST and office in Asia
In bed, read Robinson Crusoe, always meant to
Watch watch, almost five, two hours to breakfast
Sleep heavy eyes, day bright, 7am news, yawn.
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 1:32 PM UTC
you are a child
opening presents at 6:34 PST on a
Sunny Christmas morn in PASADENA, CA
while her parents look on in
feigned interest
razor scooter abandoned amid
crushed scrunched wrapping paper as you
tear apart a box of Legos
for the plasticky viscera contained therein.
you are a teen,
finding marijuana at 15:34 CST under a
bed in BOULDER, CO
while your parents shout at your brother
feigning sympathy
simply to ****** it back
and you are wrenching open ziplock
to swallow a chunk of his stash
and you find yourself
enamored with the aroma.
you are a woman,
fighting for equality at 10:26 EST wielding
picket sign (paint and sharpie on cardboard) and megaphone in
MANHATTAN, NY
while your parents
turn over in their graves,
uncertain what you are
fighting for.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
Whisper quietly to me
How things are and how they should be
Heart and soul, they pass sweetly
In a silent world
Tenderly caress my face
Stop all tears in an embrace
Carry me pst this darkened veil
Show me to the light
Stay and calm such fear that burns
Help the sun and smiles return
Turn me from a darkened world
And I will be made new
Humbly, I pray...
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
it's such a cliche, but my heart is so sore
i didn't know ice could feel pain but this freezer burn really burns
when it rains, it pours, because
this torrential downpour **** has
put holes in my umbrella
and my shirt is soaking wet but
you're only looking at my bra--
my fault for wearing white, i guess; you
opened me up but shut me off like a faucet when you finished
washing your hands
and flicker out like the streetlamp that watched our first kiss
i don't remember how to rhyme or
speak or stop my dams from breaking because your lips
your lips your lips--
i miss them. i hate them for the way they curl into a smile when
you look at her, next to me,
as if i'm not there **** off, little ghost, your eyes whisper hot on my neck)
she won't fall like i did, because i did and she won't hurt me like you did and she won't do what you did
to him because she's better than you (better than me, too) , doesn't hurt
to feel pleasure
but you're true to the stars you were
born under--
passionate (my purple neck speaks to that)
and proud
and holier than thou (your crucifix is
bigger than mine
when they tangle like we do)
past and present are so tense, so
interwoven and unsure and
absolutely careful
(although you aren't when you throw me on
your bed)
because we're not kissing now but it happened in the pst and even god doesn't know if it'll happen again
in the meantime, i'll lick my
wounds and let my glacial insides freeze over again
i've tossed in the towel, given up on
the umbrella and let the
rain soak me (like you did)
it's a perfect storm, really, because--
because-- because--
you look at her like you looked at me and he's
turned his head away from me (when i wanted him
to stop looking, i never
imagined it would hurt like this and)
I'm just watching it all fall down
ring around the rosie
ring for me when you want me again and i'll
come, of course, like your
salt on my tongue, because
your hands will be on me even if your mind is on her
open the drain like you opened me all
those months ago (icy and numb from the
last crack at my heart, baseball bat and
all) and watch me wash down the pipes
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
i sometimes wish i could age to be old and modestly rich, and see my own face in the girls i might care to swoop under my monetary belt in order to see rejection’s expression (pst! articles aren’t used when a meaning is duo possessive / either what you expect or what you don’t expect doesn’t matter) of my youth... a woman’s sex-drive gives her ample time to live longer than man.
it’s a ****** da vinci...
it’s so good
the only thing you
can do to it is.. graffiti it!
so you quote heath ledger
on the mona lisa:
'now i'm always smiling!'
he stole the fiction, heath ledger did,
he stole the fictive character
and committed suicide
because of it... heavy toll i say...
i sometimes wish more actors
took the character off the page
and into hades, as a way
to execute the relation of having
a father extinguished... that's classic that is.
me? ***** i think i got the
actor's part of christ... i.e. the antichrist...
and my crucifixion scene is in a sickbed...
and lasts too long like Tolstoy's war & peace
that no one reads...
and i sometimes get a sponge soaked with
wine given to me by a centurion,
or as i like to call it... some writing time
from the excesses of perspiration
doing the easiest of household activities
with the energy of someone aged 80;
no seriously, heath ledger stole the joker
from the realm of fiction and made it a reality
when hades dully acknowledged these
words to ring true:
telegram from the mediator of yhwh... heath ledger
is the joker... hades didn't reply and merely
gleed with awe like freshly oiled wooden flooring,
although a few dimples appeared on his face.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 8:17 PM UTC
1:12 PM, 21 March 2000 PST
-
11:08 PM, 17 July 2016 PST
My life thus far is not
Defined by my timestamps
I am the negative and positive space
That fills the void between my numbers
Some people are "numbers guys"
I, myself, am a "a-let's-see-what-the-hell-is-in-store-next girl"
So **** the timestamp
11:11 PM. 17 July 2016 PST
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 2:11 AM UTC
They are smart
They help people
To things that they
Need help with
Service dogs
Some are train for
People that are deaf or
Hard of hearing they
Help them to hear things
Some are train for people
Who have seizures they
Help them when they have
Seizure some are train for
People who have pst they
Help them to clam down
Some are train for people
Who have autism they
Help them to meet new
People some are train for
People who have diabetes
They help them by sensing
When the blood sugar is low
Some are train for people who
Have balance problems they
Help them with their balance
By letting them to hold
To them when you walk
Service dogs
Some are shelters dogs
All the dogs that are
Service dogs
Are awesome dogs
Service dogs
© Amanda Kay Hill
9/19/17
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 11:53 PM UTC
Inhale
Exhale
The smoke fades the pst
Short hit
Long hit
Your lungs burn, your mind goes numb
Inhale
Exhale
The smoke fills the car
Short hit
Long hit
***** the past, that pain won't last
Smoke it up and burn the past
Bad habits have made me
Bad habits will break me
I will eventually learn
But for now I smoke to feel the burn
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 10:24 AM UTC