"stupider" poems
It's almost 10:30 pm and I am thinking about the woman on the radio
who sang about how she's made of "dirt and stardust"
and, sleepily, I wrote those lyrics on the back of my sketchbook
And about how I wish I had an
accent,
every word drenched with butter
or spices
the flavor of my country
but instead I just have
grease.
As I'm writing this the flashlight's
spot of light
is half-spilling onto my wall,
"Helena Beat" is stuck in my
head, and has to stay there because
I wrote it down.
I know tomorrow I will wake up
with a cramped hand
and remember that I wrote.
look back on it, and think that it is
stupider
than I
thought.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
Restless hungry, found a tiny scrap of a brownie in the back of the refrigerator, wrapped in plastic about the size of a large 35 cent quarter.
Gobbled up and gone.
Eye had purchased it a week ago, maybe more.
Actually it was more like eye was held up at gunpoint by a sad young face for a large and green single dollar Bill.
In return, was bequeathed said brownie eye dropper-ful.
The apartment I live in a big city, many apartments were recession empty for a long time. But in the last few years, the empty apartments in the building were almost all sold to foreigners.
Now the bldg is an amulet melted of the lucky overseas fortunate, those overseers overseas seizers, who come to reside in the most fabulous site in these United States...and buy a piece of the dream away from the be-headers, secret police or governments that decide you are now an enemy of the state, as of this morning. No judgement.
anyway, this doe eyed child of estimated six or eight years of age accosts me in our large lobby, proffers me the brownie scrap for a Bill.
me a sucker of a salesman myself, and an eye affician-doe, well those doefuls, those eyes, no one could resist!
so eye asked her name,
but all she could say in
Anglais was...
"Brownie One Dollar?"
laughing out loud for no apparent cause,
the hanging about lobbyists looked at me staring...
Why was eye laughing?
laughing cause eye realized
this elfin child had become
fitfully but fully Americanized.
and I loved her eyes in mine, and when I see her periodically, I say:
"Hey! Brownie One Dollar, How are ya!"
and everyone snicker smiles at the old man with the even stupider grin upon his eyes.
That would be eye.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
I hate this time of year.
Everyone's always singing
stupid christmas songs
and wearing even stupider sweaters.
People say 'bah humbug',
I say **** it*.
I hate the cold and snow.
The getting totally twisted off of disgusting eggnog
and falling into bed with your best friend
only to regret it in the morning.
I hate that everyone's so giggly and rosy cheeked.
The old men in the malls posing as the
overweight **** that watches us all while we're sleeping.
I hate the gaudy wrapping
paper hiding pointless gifts
no one really needs.
And the people who're usually ********
kissing up to get something good.
I hate how lovey-dovey everyone is,
holding hands and snuggling in public places.
And how everyone has someone to kiss
when the ball drops on New Years.
Everyone but me.
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 10:50 AM UTC
Moonlit sky
Why
Do you try
To lie?
I see through
the treacherous
waste
of time and space
Saturn and Jupiter
make you look
stupider
You talk through Uranus
Milky way
You say?
Maybe
Some day!
Satellite
saddle bright
ride the horse
Ursa's delight
Universe
Witche's curse
Hide dark matter
In your purse
Atom, quark
In New York
Higgs-Boson
Keep your nose on
Big Bang
Big Crunch
Do not mention
The 12th dimension
Let's all send
our cars to Mars!
Maybe the aliens
Will choose ours?
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 12:47 AM UTC
I used to bury myself in huge jackets.
I'd mope about and hate my curvy body,
hate the way my lips puffed,
my long hair, the way I was soft all over,
the way I was expected to shave
everything but my face.
I used to hate makeup and dresses,
girly movies and shoes and bobby pins.
I hated boybands. I hated pink things.
It took me a long time to realize that
I didn't actually hate these things.
I hated women.
Femininity was lesser. I was not good enough
because of my two X chromosomes,
because of my ***** because of my period.
I was weaker. I was stupider. I was
statistically less likely to succeed,
less likely to be important,
less likely to be loved.
These things weren't right. They were never true.
But it didn't matter, because nine-year-old me
believed them. My opinion didn't start to change
until I was thirteen and I wore a pretty dress
as a character in a home movie we were making
and I walked down the stairs and my friends
whispered whoa.
I began to understand then the power I had.
As a girl I was never lesser. I was never weaker.
Maybe physically, but that was more my personality,
and all those lies I'd told myself about success
about my importance about love
I began to reconsider.
I thought hey wait hold on
this can't be right, I'm not stupid, I'm not weak,
I'm not ugly and I'm not fat
and I'm not any of these things because
I'm a girl.
When I started to see myself as worthy of
other peoples' love, I realized I should love myself.
I don't hide my femininity away in huge jackets anymore.
I don't walk down the street fearful
of the people walking past who seem stronger.
Because in my lipstick and my cute heels,
I am in total control.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC
I'm a dark and twisted guy
Who wants to shred El Burnside
With a bullet shot by *******
Like Erik Clapton best said it.
I'm on the Dark Side of the Moon
Smoking Pink Floyd listening to Cudders
Smoke anything to hyphen my mood
I'm a conartist who laughs at everyone's misadventures
But cries when something bad happens to my ancestors.
I listen to psychedelic music to put me on the Devil's Swing....so I can let my soul and spirit sleep.
A dose of ecstasy in any given music festival.
Sasquatch! Lollapalooza, a river dressed as an animal.
But I'm acting like a citizen of planet Jupiter.
Because of the way I've been living.......
I can't get any stupider.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 3:17 PM UTC
I really, really don't like myself sometimes. Most times. I like coffee, books, birds and flowers so much better. I've been listening to Ready, Able for the past four years. I'm still not alright. I'm no good at most things. Introspectiveness is not a talent. If I were a porcelain centerpiece, I'd scoot myself to the tables edge. My mum has reassured me that my head is not on right. My head, my least favorite accessory. I've yet to master the proper way of sock-folding. I've yet to master how to configure my heart. In less than five months time I'll be twenty-one. I get stupider with age. I like it when wine makes me dizzy. I wear old crazy-cat-lady coats in the summer because I can. My noir Remington is starting to build up dust. What use is it if not put to use? Useless, useless, useless like a harmonica without blow holes. I want to melt like ice cream in the sun of your pupils. Instead I sit here far from absent-minded, alone. I cannot be held still or perhaps I simply choose not to. If you wait too long for the others, I'll still be right here. Here, in the corridor of the memories we never had. I close my eyes in hope of seeing matters clearer. The world is composed of messy closets and ***** hands. Many youth wasted behind closed doors. Can we ever be sweet again? Will you hold my hand and mean it? Hollow voices frighten me but not as much as hypocrisy. I don't need to understand you, but I want to.
Lover, it's worth crying in your sleep if you've got somebody to dream about.
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 5:04 AM UTC
Something Bad
Something bad is coming
Worse than any Grand Funk Railroad Reunion Concert
Worse than watching a full episode of Meet the Kardashians
With all commercials included.
I not only have read about it
I can feel it
So much more bothersome than
Hay fever in May.
It's the Universal Fender ******
Havoc beyond compare
It's Universal Affliction and Ruination
Heavy weight and high-profile kind of stuff.
This universe is dumb
So much stupider than the armadillos that get hit by my little Fiat
This universe is worse than any teen age driver
Not watching where it goes
Or what is coming down the road.
Ten to the ten to the ten to the ten and more universes out there
Outnumbering all the cable channels both regular and High Def
More numerous than all the cockroaches in all the cities on the East Coast
Going any which way they please
Not planning ahead
Or working with the AAA or the highway safety department
More universes than every single observation ever made by every single person
More than every single argument between all the married couples
In all countries
On all existing planets
In all existing galaxies.
Each time you think of a possible universe, it exists!
Unless we all stop thinking there will be more and more and more.
Each universe moving
Some fast
Some even faster
Some inches apart from each other
Concealed behind some hidden dimension
About to turn the corner at full speed.
There's a collision
A crash
Not too far up the road
Every universe distracted
As if they are texting away
Following their own set of laws
Without regard for any right of way.
There's a smash-up coming up very soon
One universe piles into another
with one of those universes being ours in particular
The one that I live in.
I am scared
I know that adding a shoulder harness to my office chair
is not going to be enough.
I am terrified
I cannot figure out
as I make my last will and testament
who I can leave the house and dog to.
Today, tomorrow or maybe later
It is sure to happen
All my plans for no purpose
All my purposes to no point
I panic
Abandoning all my activities
Crawling into the attic
Taking a pen
A flashlight
And a notebook
And wondering
If there is any new thought
I can have that might make this all better
Without creating
One more
**** reckless
Out-of-control
universe.
--Zumwalt (2011) (copied from www.zumpoems.com)
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 9:53 AM UTC
All humans are broken inside
They are all just shattered glass
Held together
By some ****** up duct tape
The more they live
And move on in life
The more troublesome shards
Fall from them
They rot slowly
Until they are dead
They are all dead men
Each with a due date
Carved on their hearts
That is when their debts are due
And they have nothing
But their soul
To pay the price of living
Humans think they're so smart
But really, they're just as brain dead
As the next species
If not stupider
They have their cliques and societies
Those cute little clubs
Where they harass anyone
Who is considered other or lesser
While the animals roam free
Living short but happy lives
Without a care in the world
Except for the destruction
That the humans cause
In the natural order
How can they be considered superior just because they can have thought?
Thought only leads to depression
Thought only leads to jealousy
Thought only leads to killing
I am ashamed to say that I am a
Human.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC
death, apparent,
or...
apparently so...
was never a concern to
concern oneself
with the debate
between a man,
and a god....
i,e.?
funny...
the little **** sleeps
like a baby...
little ****
a maine **** cat,
male,
extracted testicles...
falls asleep
listening to
the dead can dance...
only album favorite....
my cat favored
to fall asleep in half the time
it took to listen to the track...
you can state your
Apocalypse Now! counter
in half the time...
beginning with....
now!
i'm done begging,
i'm imploring you...
added minutes?!
michele campanella...
WAGNER's
walhall
from, das rheingold...
such esteemed people!
such awaiting people!
such... nuanced...
of what could be claimed as...
people...
what wonder!
what ignominious
ingenuity of retraction!
to, have, fathomed!
the last of what ia esteemed
to be deemed,
the, *least"...
finest upon the finest,
and, supposedly,
no more,
that a utility of a hammer,
for whatever came the observation,
to make comprehension
of... the noun: nail,
and the adverb...
nailing it...
with the verb and noun
of final utility of: hammer...
dear... prospect...
of whatever was inclined
by your stressed ingenuity of fault...
how have you....
my... oh my...
your creation wss
supposed to be more stupid
than the people you already deemed
stupider,
and already demanded
yourself to, despise?
and your intelligent
"creation"...
wasn't supposed to notice this,
discrepancy?
now ensure you retell this narrative...
'mother...'
'yes, David...'
'play me... the raconteurs'
old enough.'
mother knows, best.
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 9:36 PM UTC
I
I thought that it would last my time –
That children would always read books
There would always be fields and farms
Where whippersnappers would climb
Where they would run and play in brooks
I knew there would be false alarms
II
But I never thought the malaise would spread this far
Kids not knowing what it is to be out in the air
What it means to use their mind and creativity
Just plugged in to their DSs and their Ipads in the car
Kids rooted to sofas, couch potatoes in the chair
Somehow I always thought their innocence would be free
III
There is always another day, just
As there will always be another excuse
Why we cannot go outside to play
Just sit glued to the idiot-box if you must
Passively watch this world of abuse
As our generation becomes stupider day by day
IV
Don’t write a poem or read a new book
Don’t go and sit out in the sun
The malaise is spreading and infecting us all
The crowd is young and beauty, but rooked
Rooked of their youth, it’s done
As they sit and stare at a screen in a stall
V
This really is what Orwell said, 1984
A world of computers and screens
Before I ***** it, the whole boiling will be bricked in
Nobody wants to play chess any more
A logged on generation, logging up through their teens
First cyber slum of Europe, a role it won’t be so hard to win
VI
Facebook, VK, Kikitalk, Instagram – a world that doesn’t exist
Just a world of fast past insubstantiability
Cock-eyed spelling and refute of grammar
And yet we let these kids get on with their imaginary bliss
We buy them the latest gizmos just for pacivity
And when we ask what’s to be done? You stammer
VII
We, the older generation, who knew a world better than this
A world of trees, and parks and streams
A world of old values, an idyllic pastoral
But with all pastoral, a world that can no longer exist
A world that can only reside in our dreams
Today’s world is ‘fast or nothing at all’
VIII
And I feel sorry for those kids, really
They never got to run around with a stick as a gun
They’re just getting angrier, as the malaise takes hold
Manifesting itself through boredom so easily
And then they go out and buy an AK-471
Oh well, most things are never meant, we’re told
IX
It seems, just now,
To be happening all so very fast,
For the first time, somehow
I feel that good values aren’t going to last.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 7:55 AM UTC
The broncos won and I'm still at a dead end job
Didn't even watch the game, I was washing trash cans.
Heard about it through social media
About all the different things lady gaga looked like when she sang the national anthem.
Heatmiser, pizza rolls, dolly parton
Because one time dolly parton wore a red suit.
Which i thought was kind of a stretch
But i've read stupider things on the internet so i let it slide
I saw a commercial saying that tons of babies are born 9 months after the super bowl.
You know what else is right around that time in February?
Valentine's day
I don't think i've ever been less **** than during the super bowl.
Nobody looks at their man covered in nacho grease and beer stains and goes
"Oh yeah!" Its baby making time!
My girlfriend is in Florida working for Disney right now.
Thy have her doing laundry in a musty basement with middle aged Mexican woman.
It's apparently awful.
Ruins the magic she says.
Seeing cinderella scurrying around half naked doing her make up.
Wig cap and undergarments
Snow white with her nose up asking for kombucha.
Won't even make eye contact with the laundry vets.
Let alone my intern girlfriend.
I asked how the magic wasn't ruined before that.
After watching the play hairspray when they yell cut and
All the actors go back to their miserable lives, i figured it out pretty young.
This middle class manifesto
Where making 15 dollars an hour is a goal.
But she is the faithful type.
Loves her a good hoping.
That's why she hasn't cut me loose anyway.
She says she needs me around because i'm a taurus.
I have no idea what she means by that.
But i love hearing stories about mexican woman yelling in spanish at their iphone screens. And half naked princesses doing their makeup in hair nets. And her still believing in magic. I think it says a lot about her.
She gives me something to dream about while I wash these trash cans.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
i was sitting here
searching for how to
do something mundane.
worklike.
syncing accounts.
trying to find passwords.
downloading data.
i sprinkled eucalyptus around
earlier to try
to make myself feel better.
i lit a candle and everything and
even pretend made my bed.
cranked the air conditioning.
so i could cool off.
and calm down.
and r e s t.
i took 2 dove milk chocolates
and ice cold water to my room.
i just wanted to watch
Stargate Atlantis
and go to sleep.
lazily mining for data
half paying attention
and suddenly an
intergalactic time portal
opened up before my eyes.
and boom.
(i'm here again)
in this place
of so much
l o v e
my heart pounding
as if no time has gone by.
as if you had just come around
the corner and i see your face
again for the
first time.
literally tachycardia
a loss of all logic
a stupid, stupid grin
my body shaking
in anticipation
of hearing your voice.
by accident.
gigabyte after gigabyte after gigabyte
and year, after year, after y e a r
and no matter which
one i choose,
i find pieces of you.
funny little pieces.
big, honest pieces.
secret pieces.
my pieces.
tears are streaming
d o w n my face
but i don't care
because it is the only
time i can remember
what it was like.
to be a different person.
in a different time.
to overlap with you.
every click
and swipe
songs
artworks
words
photos
texts
the reaching and
the r e t r e a t i n g.
the coming together and
the sudden
f
a ll
in g
a p
art
all neatly in chronological
order like i'm
reading my own story.
but seeing it from
the outside.
the entire picture.
and i can see
where i was wrong
i n t e n s e
younger
and stupider
and flailing.
but i have always seen you.
always from the
very first moment.
you were like an assault
but in a cosmic sense.
and at the same time
a peaceful, serene, beautiful,
rare combination of atoms and ****
and i don't think something like that
could ever happen again.
i can't even imagine it,
and imagining is the
only thing i'm good at.
curse the interwebs,
saving all this ****
i didn't even realize.
and thought was lost.
but also thank you,
google overlord.
i think it's ok to cry
about loving someone,
and missing someone
so so so so much.
because nothing matters more
than being honest
about your love.
and then i looked out
my window in despair
and i saw
a crescent moon.
May 26, 2020
May 26, 2020 at 11:56 PM UTC
soAndso with yesterday went
down to Emerald and spit
went down to see the particular
jeer of howsome comely girl
things parading elephantine
the promise of whose wet
unwinter's courser hairless
majesties
in february even
call stupider the boy war
cringing aggressive sound
i thoughtlessly and also
going weren't less than
a toy but to their agreeable
*** flung shivers and
dainty pinks atoped
with tighter neon growling
articles
(so i've felt like (with full and engorged membranous) never less a fool
than when a shortly cropped fairy haired tousled perfectly bob
slipping me her number snugly in my hands i called her 3 times
without an answer)
Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 4:41 AM UTC
I never knew how to tell you when we first met.
Those long silences we exchanged had such meaning behind them,
I was afraid to remember myself.
It was so different back then,
in those memories of youth
now turned to sickening realization.
In the beginning you would always ask me to show you pictures
or tell you stories about my past,
but how could I explain something
I didn’t want you to ever have to understand?
How was I supposed to bring up Bobby J?
You didn’t even know he existed.
How could I begin to tell you about how he and I would sneak out, without bursting into tears?
We would sneak out
after dark had just covered the rooftop of our house,
down to the riverbank that was just feet from our backyard.
On warm summer nights we would dip our hair in the water
and pretend we were sea creatures,
back to rid the world of humans
and giggle for hours.
He would always call me Chrisy back then,
a name you’ve never known.
“Chrisy,” Bobby would say quietly
as the stream whispered in our ears,
“when’s that man getting out of the house?”
I would splash him then and tell him,
“When you stop lettin’ him bother you!”
and we would continue to play
in the wilderness of our imagination;
pretend we were soldiers in the deep of a war,
or wild cavemen with swords made of wooden sticks.
Momma always caught us coming back
but it didn’t matter none back then.
She would catch us sneaking in the back door
and she’d grab us and throw towels over our wet,
creek watered hair
and say what trouble we were.
“Just two bundles of trouble these two!”
she’d always say to us and to no one in particular.
We’d go to bed then,
afraid he would be coming soon,
and then all of Momma’s logic
would go up in that crystal pipe he’d bring over
that got black as Momma got stupider.
How was I to tell you about the night everything changed,
when the bad got badder
and Momma didn’t make it?
I didn’t want to remember the good days;
I didn’t want to remember any of it.
I just wanted to forget the sound of his gun,
the way Momma screamed,
and how he shouted for us to keep quiet or never see her again,
and Bobby J was never good at being quiet.
How could I tell you that one night
I kissed his ***** bruised face and walked away?
That I left that horrible man,
the only home I had ever known,
my real name,
and my baby brother,
and I never looked back.
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
If I write a poem, and make it extra dumb
A lot of reads it gets, what has this world become?
-
The stupider I make it, the more it is received!
Like a purple chicken and green cow, who would have believed
-
But if I make it serious, like WW3 is almost here
Just a couple read it, no one I endear
-
So what am I to do? I'll say I told you so
I'll keep on writing Gloom and Doom, and pretend I am Rousseau
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
Oh, long lost Melody,
Antagonize me with your cadence:
That song, dripping from the tip of my tongue
I know you- but not well enough to know how you went
How one moment we were finishing each other’s sentences
But then the very next- I never got the memo I guess-
We switched to syncopation as if I was just supposed to know
The things you loved about me would become my greatest downfall
How foolish was I to think a crescendo would lack a diminuendo
How much stupider was I to think I could still remain your friend though
For how could we have a song without our melody:
Those notes we no longer sing but still remain a part of me
As the itch I can’t scratch or the tip of my tongue-
The parts of me that realize there’s something that I must be missing..
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
Isn't it easy to write during these times,
And difficult to write on these times,
Without ripping off figurative comparisons.
I want to use wasteland
But I'd be the one compared,
And that won't work. That's not my intent.
Besides, Townsend and T.S. worked it.
There are the platinum choices
Like Satan, Lucifer, or Legionnaire.
But Milton has his scent all over these,
And the Bible invented them.
Those times.
These times.
Apocalypse, or any version thereof,
Would surely bring Brando to mind,
And Kurtz's heart of darkness.
There are inspiring descriptors like,
Cataclysm, devastation and destruction.
Well-represented in cinema
Since Birth of a Nation.
Now there's irony.
As much as Holocaust would be perfect to plagiarize,
I, nor anyone else, should ever attempt,
(And it would be a vain glory attempt at best)
To use this singular word
In an analogy for anything, ever again.
Ever!
Unless absolutely necessary.
Unless someone we know gets stupid.
Then more stupid.
Then stupider.
Then most stupid.
And finally,
Not with a whimper, but a bang.
I falter.
Not exactly plagiarism is it?
Shouldn't be repeated either.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 10:44 AM UTC
I want to be a Dragon, breath fire, and read the minds of liars.
Grow wings or gills and visit a land fill.
Do like Wall-e
I want to build
I want super powers to spend hours on Jupiter
Then out the galaxy and do something stupider
I want to be kid again, and laugh without worry.
That's when I was free and not in a hurry.
I want to dream about not kissing girls back when it was bad.
Redeem some innocence before I made my parents sad.
I didn't let anyone down or disappoint.
But I want to be child, there's something different at that point
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 12:14 AM UTC
Am I adjusting to the slope
that time brings along
Am I all out of hope
what am I doing wrong?
Each thought I think
gets stupider each time
my brain is starting to stink
from my rotten tired rhymes?
Have I reached my peak
has my slide begun?
should I end it now?
stop abusing ink?
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC