"tallahassee" poems
When Mars attacks
I'll be in Oregon
eating saltines
and everything bagels
washed down
with orange Tang
while you're probed
anally with a green stick
the size and shape
of a bottle of Bud
in downtown Tallahassee.
After the attack
I'll go fishing
in Crater Lake
and catch twelve
rainbow trout
or kokanee salmon
and fillet them
one by one
while you limp
and buy chairs
with extra pads
and change the gauze
at the base
of your ****
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:32 PM UTC
There is rutabaga, and ratatouille, gotta love alliteration
Then Albuquerque and Tallahassee, are somewhere in our nation
And Saskatoon, Saskatchewan found in Canada, my dear
In old colloquial, there were hooligans and shenanigans, I fear
At school I use a dongle it connects me to my work
I hope I didn't bumfuzzle you, didn't mean to be a ****
Just one more word on my short list and to see what it can do
Find the one you love and in sweet soft voice just turn and utter "pooh"
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 9:30 AM UTC
Like a flame igniting an old engine
A frisk of energy sparked
Turning my rusty, frozen gears
And restoring my memories of you.
In a hidden corridor in time -
A dimension since locked away
We two share an instant -
An unobtainable, infinite moment.
Like a fog creeping in on my soul -
An ironic, melancholy nostalgia;
I dream of sunlight on canopy roads
In a place I once called home.
Trapped in a reality without you
We've since broken our promise,
Extinguishing the embers
We swore to smolder forever.
This life is a sort of purgatory -
A spiritual test and journey;
A short waiting period before
We again walk hidden corridors.
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 12:39 AM UTC
And we all shine on.
The thorn of love that is invisible to strangers.
Here comes the husband’s attitude again. Pass with Care.
Here comes the husband’s paycheck again. Pass with Care.
And here we have the husband’s mistress again. And she passed with care.
Now, we have this baby girl. One more piece for the puzzle-family:
“And you know I ain’t never want no half nothing in my family.
My whole family is half. Everybody got different fathers and mothers.”
Sacrifice, Mama. Ain’t that what it’s all about?
Rose. Rose. The one who is already risen.
When you banished him from your bed, did he contort his frame
and slug his way toward the door,
continued down the hallway
and down the stairs
to leech away the ghost of that emotion that Tallahassee-big-hipped-girl gave him?
Give your daughter, now, the hungry fatigue that you had to acquire. Pass with care.
And now you stand with this goblet in your arms.
Goblet of light. Golden flower in your heart and in your brain. This baby girl --
Breather of the goodness in the world.
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 2:38 AM UTC
I hope you shake our home with your anger
and it collapses under our added weight.
I hope that you raise your white flag,
let the breeze scream out its surrender.
I hope that those from the congregation trying
to save us get ****** off and give up on us too.
I hope that you unfriend me from Facebook,
and tell your friends to do the same. I hope
you destroy all the moments, cut the
pictures of us into threes. Tear the
worst from the best and burn through the
all rest, watch my face distort in the flame.
And when you are with fast shrinking friends
at every single’s club in Louisiana, I hope
that you tell every ******* one of them
just how bad I performed in the sack.
In fact, the more you slander me the better.
I hope you fill those sad, bloodless husks with lies.
I hope that you refuse to forgive me. I hope
you move back to Tallahassee. In three
years time, with your new life all divine,
I hope you forget that she’s my new wife.
I hope that sometime you’ll learn to love me
and say that this was a bad phase of our life.
Tomorrow, I’ll bleed out what’s left of “forever”
and choke on “happily ever after”. And you
think that you’ve finally gotten over cause
I never think to get sober. But I hope you
recall staring down the unhinged frames
on the wall, you’re coming down with me too.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 8:16 PM UTC
In Abraham Lincoln's city,
Where they remember his lawyer's shingle,
The place where they brought him
Wrapped in battle flags,
Wrapped in the smoke of memories
From Tallahassee to the Yukon,
The place now where the shaft of his tomb
Points white against the blue prairie dome,
In Abraham Lincoln's city ... I saw knucks
In the window of Mister Fischman's second-hand store
On Second Street.
I went in and asked, "How much?"
"Thirty cents apiece," answered Mister Fischman.
And taking a box of new ones off a shelf
He filled anew the box in the showcase
And said incidentally, most casually
And incidentally:
"I sell a carload a month of these."
I slipped my fingers into a set of knucks,
Cast-iron knucks molded in a foundry pattern,
And there came to me a set of thoughts like these:
Mister Fischman is for Abe and the "malice to none" stuff,
And the street car strikers and the strike-breakers,
And the sluggers, gunmen, detectives, policemen,
Judges, utility heads, newspapers, priests, lawyers,
They are all for Abe and the "malice to none" stuff.
I started for the door.
"Maybe you want a lighter pair,"
Came Mister Fischman's voice.
I opened the door ... and the voice again:
"You are a funny customer."
Wrapped in battle flags,
Wrapped in the smoke of memories,
This is the place they brought him,
This is Abraham Lincoln's home town.
1.6k
I hope that our few remaining friends
Give up on trying to save us
I hope we come up with a failsafe plot
To **** off the dumb few that forgave us
I hope the fences we mended
Fall down beneath their own weight
And I hope we hang on past the last exit
I hope it's already too late
And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here
Someday burns down
And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away
And I never come back to this town
Again in my life
I hope I lie
And tell everyone you were a good wife
And I hope you die
I hope we both die
I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow
I hope it bleeds all day long
Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises
We're pretty sure they're all wrong
I hope it stays dark forever
I hope the worst isn't over
And I hope you blink before I do
Yeah I hope I never get sober
And I hope when you think of me years down the line
You can't find one good thing to say
And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out
You'd stay the hell out of my way
I am drowning
There is no sign of land
You are coming down with me
Hand in unlovable hand
And I hope you die
I hope we both die
Dec 22, 2021
Dec 22, 2021 at 3:01 PM UTC
Addicted to it man, just can't let it go
Stunned thunder clap, another good show
The south-side monster on 16th street
Listen to The Words, or just let him be
Words that spilled out
for Jesus & his drink
A Lotus to bloom out of the rough
Double down for one more hit of that stuff
[CH]
Gimme a thunderous clap, a slow rolling roar
And I'll always come back for just one more
Austin from Tallahassee
To Jackson Square in New Orleans
The Appalachian trails, to Venice Beach
In Florida it'll leave ya sleeping on the street
You can find it anywhere
There's smoke and drink
There's a gambling man (&a gambling chance)
Under every marquee
[CH]
Gimme a thunderous clap, that slow rolling roar
I'll always come back for just one more
[CH]
.....One more score.
Addicted to it, can't let it be
Every sucker on a stage, (including me)
It's not fame, money or glory we seek
But if you get a taste, it's so hard to leave
Oh, that thunderous clap, that slow steady roar
Always coming back for just one more.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 3:16 PM UTC
I've been given a challenge
A duel of sorts you'll see
Not over the love of a women
But over the love of poetry
Both starting off standing back to back
Walking twenty paces like gentlemen
I slowly turn, only to learn
The true power of Carl's pen
As I lay on the ground, poetic heart bleeding
It all flashes before my eyes
That is when it is I see
I've lead a typically boring life
From childhood to adulthood
Flashing by at supersonic speed
No need to slow down the reel
Not much to see that interesting
But then it all starts to sputter
Slowing to a normal pace
Stopping at the best day of my life
Which just happens to be yesterday
I woke up just like every other morning
Hosed off out front like I always do
Of course all my neighbors were out there watching
They can't seem to get enough of me in the ****
I got the paper from off of the driveway
(Still in the **** mind you)
I was already out in the sun with my moon a shinning
What else was I supposed to do
On the front page I saw the winning numbers
My treasure staring back at me
Whooping and hollering through the neighborhood
I'd just won the lottery! Maybe I should throw on some jeans...
I went straight to Tallahassee
To pick up my multi million dollar check
Spend it like there's no tomorrow
Till there is none of it left
I bought boats and planes and automobiles
Had a babe on all four arms (I even bought extra arms)
Then flash forward to today
Where it is I bought the farm
So alas my life's movie stops
To where it is I am now
Having taken up this challenge
Laying on the cold damp ground
Yes, I finally had the chance
To put my typically boring life behind
Snuffed out by the Master's pen
Left with no rhyme and dying
Thanks Carl...
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 7:44 AM UTC
I still don't know if
I've ever "made love"
but if I have
the first time
was definitely with you:
******** on the ***** carpet floor
of your best friend's house
in Tallahassee. we knocked
tattoos against the coffee table
both our knees red
rugburnt from scooting the length
of the living room + hallway.
we moaned into each other's mouths
as our friends passed out drunk
not seven feet away
we tried three positions & your
body told me the last one was your
favorite so we bumped bellies
pulled each other's hair
your chest on my chest
your shoulder blades
drenched in moonlight
small in my careful hands
stars camped in our eyes
you bit my
lip too hard.
I'll never forget the wet way you kissed
my salty forehead as we
climbed connected onto
the couch, but the most vivid
memories from that night
are your legs
still quivering but clenched
ankle locked together at the
slope of my back, & falling asleep
inside you because it
felt like the right thing to do.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 3:35 PM UTC
I live for two hours, five hours, bite to bleed.
A cryogenic coma until we begin.
Arguing in vain with the town around me,
over nothing able to be justified, and he and I don't care;
reveling in the confusion of the tri-city area—
drowning our egos and taking our time
until we truce with razor smiles; shift
to removing tongues with pliers in our words.
(living amputation and too much diet coke)
Shouted disclaimers spread to the rest of the state,
in case they never wondered how it feels
to watch a living heart exposed.
He gleamed gold with self-confidence as he cracked his knuckles.
"I'd like someone to hit me, y'know?"
Next to him, Tallahassee rolls her eyes, Tampa looks away.
(I catch his stare. Deo gratias. Deo gratias. Father, Son, and Violent Thoughts.)
Thank God, I whisper, and I am yelling.
He is split from throat to hip and I drain his open truth.
Speaker static shifts the room,
podium to floor.
This isn't over, he says, and we laugh
because nothing we ever say can be proven,
and we intend to prove it all.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 8:37 PM UTC
Dabbed in green and purple watercolor feelings
of the Tallahassee summer we’re living in.
Speckled with moods and lighting,
missing the components of cheap desire
brought on by a mixed tape and
deep red wine that I’ve never actually tasted.
Why write you a love letter when I can love myself?
Or when I can write about the uncertainty of love?
Why write a love letter that you’ll read,
but not understand?
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 1:16 AM UTC
i wish i could put my fist
through this wretched city,
march straight down Monroe
to the capitol building—
that flaccid, ******* hideous tower
looming like the tomb of god
over Tallahassee.
this bastion of neoliberalism
sits in the heart of a red state.
escalating rent and gentrification
go hand-in-hand on occupied Muskogee lands.
statues commemorating genocidal colonizers
defended by neo-Confederate bootlickers
keep watch over Martin Luther King, Jr. Blvd.
everywhere you look in this college town
you’ll find indigeneity reduced to a mascot.
so let’s introduce a little anarchy.
we’ll clash with riot cops
armed with tire-irons and Molotovs.
occupy the academy, transform the cafeteria
into a people’s kitchen. teach freely
on Landis Green. come, dance
with abandon and reclaim these tired streets
from those beset on our alienation.
Jun 6, 2019
Jun 6, 2019 at 6:59 AM UTC
My mother brought down the storage
box from the attic. I swore it was bigger.
I went through every single picture,
pulling aside all the ones I wanted
to bring back to Tallahassee with me.
I didn't think it could mean anything, but
I have no proof to show of my vacant father.
No picture of my clumsy, pre-teen years
where I weighed more than my mother.
When I pick out the pictures I want on my wall,
it's the past that I created for myself.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
tall all
talk awkwardly
Tallahassee seasonableness
talcum cumulus
tally alley
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
If I could only carry a tune
I'd write songs to go on tour
Sentimental ones-oh how I’d croon
Just so you would love me more
My Dear, just so you would love me more
If I could just win the Lottery
There’s your Instant Retirement!
Oh, what fun to hire that limousine
That’s only my first requirement
For when I win all those riches then
I’d hire us that limousine
To take us to Cruise America
Pick up our brand-new Airstream
We would drive North to Tallahassee
Pick up supplies along the way
Stop at Sam Ash for your dream guitar
Then could you love me more, I pray?
Just so you would love me more
I’d shower you with presents galore
“Can’t buy me love”, you say, my Dear
You sang that song I’ve come to adore
So say those words I long to hear
As we drive West to see The Rockies
The majesty makes your face glow
What matters to me on this journey?
That you love me more and say so
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 4:44 PM UTC
had a dream we took a road trip
all round the southern states
you taught me how to shoot a gun
taught me how to be his son
i walked you through confession
every chapel we set foot in
i told you how i bound my chest
showed you how i hid my breast
but you beat me out a dozen times
scotch on the rocks, blood in my socks
said to you i couldnt walk no more
you told me id been here before
in mississipi you got whiskey-dick
tried to ruin me in pearl river
i heaved my shoulders, cut my breath
laid in the reeds and waited for death
i rolled your **** and laced your boots
tallahassee took us kindly
you sat among the palm trees
just watched me bruise my knees
hit the end near south carolina
woke up lonely, woke up wet
said a prayer quick for my young soul
showered for hours; wished i was whole
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 12:51 AM UTC
I saw you that last spring
wearing a red velvet jacket
covering your tie dye.
You were ethereal then Rose,
had become stuck on Buddha,
stars floated in your hair.
I still remember your tattered blue jeans
& now I wonder,
all these years later,
am curious if you had been on a pilgrimage,
if you had crawled
all the way from Miami to Tallahassee
on your knees?
Do you still believe in zen-magic,
& can you hear me?
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 7:57 AM UTC
By Arcassinburnham
My father never gave a ****
So what are you to me,
Dieing in the fear of needing him,
he never came to see me,
Had a family already up in Tallahassee,
Thats why I don't like betrayal and those nasty *** hussys,
Fight through the pain of rejection and bullies,
I never knew how to handle it,
Situations overthrew me,
Moms tried to calm me down,
But I didn't listen,
Too much stuff going on,
Had to keep my distance.
We
All
See
Your
Problem
Arcassin.
I put everything I had in to poetry,
Mom told me follow your dreams,
And be the best in history,
So one day made a blog,
On how I want the poem to be,
And every since then,
I've seen a lot of progress from the google freaks,
So when you judge,
You need to judge correctly,
Now I got a whole of enemies around me,
Heat seeking,
And you think I don't bring a knife everywhere
With me,
Do you get me,
I've got no memory at all,
Of how things use to be,
Most of the past is great,
Unlike confrontation following me.
And til this day Im still in hell living,
Now ain't that depressing.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 8:25 PM UTC
there is a pitter-patter
of witching hour
rainfall on the window
pane. a deep
and profound thunder,
the kind that made
our ancestors fear
the wrath
of imaginary gods,
resounds—
unfolding
across Tallahassee
hills, shaking
itself out of existence.
heat lightning
unfurls its tendrils
across a violent sky
illuminating
my bedroom
like a voyeur’s
spotlight. my dog
whimpers absently
in his sleep. i envy
him his nightmares.
what i wouldn’t give
to slip beneath.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 1:25 PM UTC