"syndicated" poems
your passion is a mountain i've climbed
time after time
but i can't make it to the top
your desire is elusive
it slips through my fingers before i can think to grab on
i want to study your design like an architect
but your lips take hold of me
and i forget my purpose
we venture, nervously, but willingly
far from home
with a sleepy, silent return
the line between brave and utterly stupid
has been erased
so we're living on a diet of syndicated jokes
and liquid courage
to the point where none of it seems real enough to comprehend
where the honesty is almost trite
where i can't tell if you're afraid or sad
or happy, or maybe you just don't care
or maybe you're too afraid to care
because you know that i'll be missing the feeling of you beside me
that security of your body in the crowd of my thoughts
i haven't gone far enough to miss you yet
but i already pine for you when i sleep
the great wall of your shoulders makes me feel safe
the map of your skin guides my need
but in your world, i feel like a little girl
trying to convince kings to raze cities
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
The Couch Potato is glued to the screen with his tin foil hat on
He sees tailor made charades being played for keeps
Superficial calling cards being dropped into mailboxes
Gravy trains being engineered by some guy subject to temper tantrums and growing pains
Window shoppers searching for second hand teapots, swear jars and unofficial other halves
To him it's all real
Is he wrong?
Put on your dunce cap and ponder that
-Tommy Johnson
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
waiting for diphenhydramine
to kick in
has left me a special place
in hell tonight
all that plays on syndicated
memories
is you telling me you've always
been this way
& I've only known "you"
drunk
you are a liar
but I already knew
this
the lump in my throat
swelled
& burst into tiny
gasps for air and tears
as I realized we may never
be as we were --
a pair of lovers
infatuated by the graces of
each other's hands
& whispers
I felt a mighty urge to open
the heart box
(where I keep your letters)
& couldn't
if I did I might believe
that all of it is
gone
all of it for
nothing
I know that isn't
true
I know of your love
& I know it is
real
the brief lapses in clarity
when you touch my legs
or play with my hair
or use your little sing-song voice
when you talk
"wherever is your heart
I call home?"
has the world eaten it
away
& made you long to be
alone?
"oh, god forgive my
mind"
when I miss
home
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 4:24 AM UTC
giggle snort he looks like him
doesn't it puzzle them some specimen
prized champion winter in abandon
specialized french fried batter in the alley
two cats two kids and the whole **** family
10 mile pile up when and where I pick it up
the effect of bye isn't enough
can you tell me with a cough syrup kind of smile
that all the while crocodile my tears were in denial
two apart from two doesn't separate it conjugates
it fills you will the urge to skate
slip slide and forge the way
I dream in colours of saturday
this this this away
that that that away
I blow the clouds from north to south while I'm headed out
it's like a sea of candles when I finally turn the lights out
you you you rolling in the deep I I I tossing in my sleep
grinding little melodies out on my teeth
someone's got some secrets the just don't want to keep
I'll make you a discreet if you offer to make a peep
in two weeks we'll have cash mountain heap
Fuel in the furnace syndicated mass
sometimes I put words together
sometimes I have to smash
shred out the symbolism on a silly sticker board of intoxicated lovers who drew when they were bored
deadly and forgiving all the sins got mixed in and they can't remember how to escape all that they drew in
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 8:16 PM UTC
the light of luminous spirit
softly crushes brilliant passion
in flourished form
unknowingly condemning
the intimate caress
of the mystical mistress's
Orphic orifices just cause
self-doubt is incurable
with a densely populated
Barnes and Noble where
pops and crunches indicate
a syndicated reality with
diced up facts, divided
into the savory and the rest
thrown in a landfill
to prevent collapse
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC
The time we grant each other is like that of a
syndicated movie
Not that anyone is watching
Might catch the end of it
For old time sake
It's no mystery why there's this feeling on a
Tuesday
Just like any other day
It all runs together
A watermark on a watercolor
And with the way things are going who
knows
I might find a way out
If it pans out
If my luck doesn't
Doesn't run out
So on that note I might see you at next years
ball
Maybe watch it drop
Maybe midnight
Maybe I won't drop the ball
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 12:02 PM UTC
promises of commitment
intertwined with feelings of compassion
idiosyncratic moments indelibly imprinted
as love between two humans is expressed
and allowed to flourish –
one ruling by an appointed court
opening judge’s doors’ across the country
giving freedoms to homosexuals
which should have never been in question
another example of the lie
that is “separation of church and state” –
millions of Americans cry out in unison
that God’s will has been wronged
while holy matrimony
uses the same language “Do you take this person”
when children marry stuffed animals –
in a day when twenty Bachelorettes
can battle for the hand of a stranger
on nationally syndicated television
how can people stand up
and argue based on a value system –
ethics, moral standards, belief systems…
these concepts are individually defined
if I think it is o.k. to have a tattoo
of Tom Selleck ******* Omar Gadhafi
that is my business
and it can’t really hurt you…only offend –
if you feel offended
by the Supreme Court decision
to allow the LBGT community marriage equality
I would argue
you have too much time on your hands –
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 2:25 PM UTC
syndicated stars in the celestial sphere
a marksman fine tunes his aim.
heaven haunts the hallows
two deep inhales.
an entity in the empyrean
his hands tremble.
noble as the natal night
two deep exhales.
amidst astral auras
a bead of sweat falls down his cheek.
a nebula nurtured
chatter from a robin across the field.
a dimension divine
he closes his eyes.
the orbit orchestral
moonlight shadows the land.
aphorisms of aligned astronomy
his shot rings out.
hold the handwritten harmonies
a cloud of smoke left in his place.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 2:23 PM UTC
She was an argonaut
that paper nautilus discreet
where an edict for office
still home for a style
if their buzz did set a trend
that syndicated grams
and lingered with a spruce Cabernet
while it torched their foray
that whirred travel to the dale
of Welsh Mount Snowdon
where I sought Kopechne
if squires didn't vaunt missions
with these measured students
and were really left behind!
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
"There are two kinds of people in this world. Cat lovers, and normal people."
From the syndicated comic strip "Drabble", 2014
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC
"There are two kinds of people in this world. Cat lovers, and normal people."
From the syndicated comic strip "Drabble", 2014
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 8:11 AM UTC
You are inescapable.
Like a miles wide mountain range
present in the background of every scene I see.
I am humbled and invigorated by your presence.
You are an earworm.
Like a ******* Disney song stuck in my head for years
but I’m not tired of it yet.
Even syndicated radio couldn’t wear you out now.
I feel you bone deep.
The way your soul feels has seeped into my infrastructure
I am forever changed.
I could run, but I will never be completely rid of you.
I am permeated.
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 8:48 PM UTC