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"vcr" poems
i don't watch home movies hate them reason being because when i was young i was looking for a movie my mother had recorded for me and accidentally put one in the vcr that i'm not sure i was supposed to see i know the obvious response *"uh oh, **** sorry to disappoint they were only marked with dates   1991 on live television montel williams asks my father *"how can you just throw your child away like a piece of trash?"*    1994 i spend so much time in the emergency room that my parents stop penciling in growth marks on the frame of my bedroom door i always thought it was because they believed i would never grow out of this sickness sometimes i believe the reason that they never bought me a dream catcher was because they never thought i'd live long enough to see them come true    1996 i am eliminated from a spelling bee because i didn't know the 'dad' is silent in 'family'    2013 before i got into poetry i used to do standup none of my jokes were funny one of the other comics tells me my skits are dry sometimes sad he says *"why don't you joke about something like your family?"* so i say *"i never wore any sunblock because i didn't want anything to keep me from my father"* i say *"what do you call christmas without lights or heat?"* before he has a chance to answer i say *"1997. better yet why don't you make like a dad and leave"*    2014 every time we drive past the hospital my mother reminds me how much it cost to save my life like she'd rather have her money back she doesn't have to say that sometimes she wishes it was me who had died instead of my brother i can hear it in the way she says "love you" sometimes i imagine that if i were to die that she would pick out a casket for a child because she never loved the person i became yesterday i told my father how close i'd been to suicide lately and he said *"that's my boy, livin on the edge.."* and i can't remember if i laughed or cried
0
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
there are only dates
i don't watch home movies hate them reason being because when i was young i was looking for a movie my mother had recorded for me and accidentally put one in the vcr that i'm not sure i was supposed to see i know the obvious response *"uh oh, **** sorry to disappoint they were only marked with dates   1991 on live television montel williams asks my father *"how can you just throw your child away like a piece of trash?"*    1994 i spend so much time in the emergency room that my parents stop penciling in growth marks on the frame of my bedroom door i always thought it was because they believed i would never grow out of this sickness sometimes i believe the reason that they never bought me a dream catcher was because they never thought i'd live long enough to see them come true    1996 i am eliminated from a spelling bee because i didn't know the 'dad' is silent in 'family'    2013 before i got into poetry i used to do standup none of my jokes were funny one of the other comics tells me my skits are dry sometimes sad he says *"why don't you joke about something like your family?"* so i say *"i never wore any sunblock because i didn't want anything to keep me from my father"* i say *"what do you call christmas without lights or heat?"* before he has a chance to answer i say *"1997. better yet why don't you make like a dad and leave"*    2014 every time we drive past the hospital my mother reminds me how much it cost to save my life like she'd rather have her money back she doesn't have to say that sometimes she wishes it was me who had died instead of my brother i can hear it in the way she says "love you" sometimes i imagine that if i were to die that she would pick out a casket for a child because she never loved the person i became yesterday i told my father how close i'd been to suicide lately and he said *"that's my boy, livin on the edge.."* and i can't remember if i laughed or cried
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91
iPad, computer, VCR. Television, cell phone, Movie star. Clash of clans, minecraft, COD. Pokemon halo, PVP. Having fun, all day, Disaster strikes. Red bar, 0%, Battery dies.
0
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC
Electronics
O how I remember you pretty darling, my crazy superstar, making lovely water bed waves on the VCR. But Dear Lover, that technology's outdated, we've got to try, to try something new.
0
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 7:24 AM UTC
We've Got To Overcome Outdated Technology
my heart rejects you like a stubborn VCR your name sticks to my throat like it's in hot summer tar i want to say i miss you i want to say i care but our future looks so empty as i'm grasping for some air. we knew it wouldn't be easy as you held me that last night but at least then i could hear your heartbeat, now i only hear your sigh. "I'm yours forever", I once said "I see us together", You replied will the distance overcome our promises? will heartache leave us dry? emotion makes a cruel companion like our curse, our cure is time
0
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 1:11 PM UTC
LDR
So, dope young fellow With your pretty boy swag. With your SnapBack on. Pants so **** low. Every girl just waiting in line just to give you a blow. You're royalty around here, but this is still high school. Taking every girls cherries and jewels. You think that you're raising the bar but I've seen this before: Call it VCR. And then there's me: Who don't get no ladies. Because I'm the type of person who actually treats females as actually human beings. Not toys. I'll put them before myself. I care about their joy. You know what's dead: chivalry. And it can never be reborn. Not like Call of Duty: zombies. Boom, headshot. But there's another ten coming your way. Then it gets to the point when you're just blown away. But I'll be your player 2. Girl, I'd give up all my perks just for you. So you guys out there with the pretty boy swag. Who just zip it all up cuz they think they got it in the bag. I'm going to fight. I'm going to step up for the voices not heard. Cuz you've drowned them in depression, you've choke them with cruelty, and you've slapped them with sadness. Unable to act. Like a flightless bird. I'll let them out of their cages so they can fly once again. So you can't weight them down: Call you Anchormen. Ooo, **** em' So, pretty boy, nothing close to fantastic. I just wanna say: That I know I'm swagtastic. S- saving W- women A- against G- guys T- that A- abuse S- sensitive T- tender I- innocent C- companions. Shorten that: swag. S- she W- wants A- a G- gentlemen. So now boy, Lets just see which one of us got that "Pretty Boy Swag"
0
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 7:41 PM UTC
Pretty Boy Swag
So, dope young fellow With your pretty boy swag. With your SnapBack on. Pants so **** low. Every girl just waiting in line just to give you a blow. You're royalty around here, but this is still high school. Taking every girls cherries and jewels. You think that you're raising the bar but I've seen this before: Call it VCR. And then there's me: Who don't get no ladies. Because I'm the type of person who actually treats females as actually human beings. Not toys. I'll put them before myself. I care about their joy. You know what's dead: chivalry. And it can never be reborn. Not like Call of Duty: zombies. Boom, headshot. But there's another ten coming your way. Then it gets to the point when you're just blown away. But I'll be your player 2. Girl, I'd give up all my perks just for you. So you guys out there with the pretty boy swag. Who just zip it all up cuz they think they got it in the bag. I'm going to fight. I'm going to step up for the voices not heard. Cuz you've drowned them in depression, you've choke them with cruelty, and you've slapped them with sadness. Unable to act. Like a flightless bird. I'll let them out of their cages so they can fly once again. So you can't weight them down: Call you Anchormen. Ooo, **** em' So, pretty boy, nothing close to fantastic. I just wanna say: That I know I'm swagtastic. S- saving W- women A- against G- guys T- that A- abuse S- sensitive T- tender I- innocent C- companions. Shorten that: swag. S- she W- wants A- a G- gentlemen. So now boy, Lets just see which one of us got that "Pretty Boy Swag"
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53
Welcome to my home, oh won't you come in? Allow me to show you around, would you care for a drink? Tell me your poison, maybe a highball of gin? I keep it in the kitchen with the coffeepot by the sink, or maybe you'd prefer a tumbler of crown? Whiskey is right in the foyer by the doorstop, there's nothing like a nip right before I bounce. And if it's wine you crave, it's in the living room atop the tube television beside the VCR in it's place. But if you've a tongue for peach schnapps then make your way to the crawl space. Whilst your up there I say, would you do me a fave? Look in the attic for the bourbon, it's beside my baby pictures, and bring it down for me. I'm sure that I saved some from the last time I was up there alone with self-stricture. Oh you don't care for bourbon, then maybe some brandy? The cognac is somewhere down the basement, but ignore the rope and the candies. You're unsettled you say? Then rum's how to spend drinking the night away with me in the den. OH! Just send a beer your way?! you should've just said! A six-pack's in the bathroom, right next to the head.
0
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
Room and Bored (for *****
Set the cheetahs on the loose There's a thief out on the move Underneath our legion's view They have taken Cleopatra Run run run, come back for my glory Bring her back to me Run run run, the crown of our pharaoh The throne of our queen is empty We'll run to the future Shining like diamonds in a rocky world A rocky, rocky world Our skin like bronze and our hair like cashmere As we march to rhythm On the palace floor Chandeliers inside the pyramid Tremble from the force Cymbals crash inside the pyramid Voices fill up the halls The jewel of Africa What good is a jewel that ain't still precious? How could you run off on me? How could you run off on us? You feel like God inside that gold I found you laying down with Samson And his full head of hair Found my black queen Cleopatra Bad dreams, Cleopatra Remove her Send the cheetahs to the tomb Our war is over, our queen has met her doom No more she lives no more serpent in her room No more it has killed Cleopatra Big sun coming strong through the motel blinds Wake up to your girl for now, let's call her Cleopatra I watch you fix your hair Then put your ******* on in the mirror, Cleopatra Then your lipstick, Cleopatra Then your six-inch heels Catch her She's headed to the pyramid She's working at the pyramid tonight Working at the pyramid Working at the pyramid tonight Working at the pyramid Working at the pyramid tonight Working at the pyramid Working at the pyramid tonight Working at the pyramid Working at the pyramid tonight Pimping in my convos Bubbles in my champagne Let it be some jazz playing Top floor motel suite twisting my cigars Floor model TV with the VCR Got rubies in my **** chain Whip ain't got no gas tank But it still got woodgrain Got your girl working for me Hit the strip and my bills paid That keep my bills paid Hit the strip and my bills paid Keep a ***** bills paid She's working at the pyramid tonight You showed up after work I'm bathing your body Touch you in places only I know You're wet & you're warm just like our bathwater Can we make love before you go The way you say my name makes me feel like I'm that ***** But I'm still unemployed You say it's big but you take it Ride cowgirl But your love ain't free no more But your love ain't free no more
0
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 12:23 PM UTC
Pyramid's pt.1
Set the cheetahs on the loose There's a thief out on the move Underneath our legion's view They have taken Cleopatra Run run run, come back for my glory Bring her back to me Run run run, the crown of our pharaoh The throne of our queen is empty We'll run to the future Shining like diamonds in a rocky world A rocky, rocky world Our skin like bronze and our hair like cashmere As we march to rhythm On the palace floor Chandeliers inside the pyramid Tremble from the force Cymbals crash inside the pyramid Voices fill up the halls The jewel of Africa What good is a jewel that ain't still precious? How could you run off on me? How could you run off on us? You feel like God inside that gold I found you laying down with Samson And his full head of hair Found my black queen Cleopatra Bad dreams, Cleopatra Remove her Send the cheetahs to the tomb Our war is over, our queen has met her doom No more she lives no more serpent in her room No more it has killed Cleopatra Big sun coming strong through the motel blinds Wake up to your girl for now, let's call her Cleopatra I watch you fix your hair Then put your ******* on in the mirror, Cleopatra Then your lipstick, Cleopatra Then your six-inch heels Catch her She's headed to the pyramid She's working at the pyramid tonight Working at the pyramid Working at the pyramid tonight Working at the pyramid Working at the pyramid tonight Working at the pyramid Working at the pyramid tonight Working at the pyramid Working at the pyramid tonight Pimping in my convos Bubbles in my champagne Let it be some jazz playing Top floor motel suite twisting my cigars Floor model TV with the VCR Got rubies in my **** chain Whip ain't got no gas tank But it still got woodgrain Got your girl working for me Hit the strip and my bills paid That keep my bills paid Hit the strip and my bills paid Keep a ***** bills paid She's working at the pyramid tonight You showed up after work I'm bathing your body Touch you in places only I know You're wet & you're warm just like our bathwater Can we make love before you go The way you say my name makes me feel like I'm that ***** But I'm still unemployed You say it's big but you take it Ride cowgirl But your love ain't free no more But your love ain't free no more
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74
In this household there’s far too much noise!...your mobile, your pager, your palmtop, your laptop, your desktop, your land-line, your radio, your plasma screen, your mp3, your ***** driver, your GPS, your audio-books, your lawn-mower, your toothbrush, your stereo, your play-station, your VCR, your hairdryer, your podcasts, your DVD player, your digital clock, your analogue clock, your juicer, my ******** your drill...
0
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 10:11 AM UTC
Nag
Guida & Me drove up to the ***** D In my whip there was co-pilot Bryx and Captain Sleezy E We rolled up to my yerp bro Brad D's Next were greeted by Dino whos drinking a 40 Labatt Blue bonging and ponging like were competing for beer drinking glory Then its onto asweome fries, saganaki, and telling funny stories That night was crazy and a definite blast Woke up the next day to see Dino's Dad's spot and gasp! Walk into the kitchen to see Grandma Rontondo cooking homemade marinara Smelling fresher than the lobby inside of a Panera Next it's downstaris to the "Thunderdome," mindblow is all I can tell ya! The food was amazing with Uncle D on the grill Sammy the Bull said "Plastic Cups!" so that was the deal Party was wild, popping bottles in other words unreal Zoo was great, conductor swag was for real Tigers beat the Twins, and that night it was freestyling, speeches, and Labatts on chill Like the words of Willie Nelson the ***** D stays on my mind I'll never forget that trip like my brain is a VCR and has the element of rewind!
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Sep 19, 2011
Sep 19, 2011 at 7:00 PM UTC
My First Trip To The ***** D
O Babylon! Your God is a sport-utility vehicle, a VCR, and a two-car garage! You delight in images of killing and artificially-large-breasted women! Your arteries are clogged with Big Macs and a thousand pieces of Kentucky-Fried Chicken! Your God is Technology.  Your God is Progress. Your skyscrapers rise to the heavens!  Your astronauts fly to the moon! You clone sheep! alter genes! make a mountain into a parking lot! Your fields flower!  Your grain-bins groan under the weight of the ripe corn! But the land of your soul is a desolation. O God of Henry Ford, the Wright Brothers, and Bill Gates,... All the nations adore Thee! (Pretty soon they'll be ordering Papa John pizza by cell phone in New Guinea....) Your God is Mammon. After the movies, after the Quarter-pounders-with-cheese, super-size fries, and a large Coke, after the evening news, the Hostess cupcakes, golf, beers, and swimming 20 laps, the hunger will be the same as the day you first felt it, O Babylon! the thirst of the soul, O Babylon!
0
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 2:24 PM UTC
Babylon
Inhaling, hushed, from hashed cigars my mind implodes in Malimar where Naiads bathe in caviar - I dream of dwarves and three-eyed tsars. The captive kiss of Princess Mars (who talks in tongues at seminars) burns red beyond Her blue boudoir - I writhe within Her pale peignoir. Her Maids gloss lips with cinnabar, bedizen cheeks in dusts that mar, serve teas beside the reservoir - I sip them from a samovar. Disguised in smoke and lamps of spar Her Genies gender gold dinars, evoking flames in ginger jars - I plea before the Commissar. At Princess’ neighbourhood bazaar, white shadows slip through doors ajar to drape my dreams in ash and char - I long await the Avatar. Her Merchants (preening, proud Hussars) paint pretty scenes on VCR’s while sailing ships to Zanzibar - I strum the strings of warped sitars. Her Prophets sometimes cruise in cars else while at each and every bar to speak of space and time bizarre - I pass my pride for small pourboires. Her Necromancers trace in tar tall tales of wisdom flung afar, transported by the Registrars - I hitchhike on their handlebars. Her seers conjure repertoires where She and I are on a par in infinite surreal memoirs - I sometimes sense the void is ours. My Princess never sees the scars cut by Her whispered “au revoirs” - I often wake to ask ‘who are these Gods that sail the distant stars?’
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Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 6:49 PM UTC
Malimar (Monorhyme)
Was watching Disney's The Lion King on VHS Got it from the thrift store for a dollar When it started up It was halfway through That realization made me wonder Someone somewhere started this movie But they never finished it They stopped it Took it out of their VCR They never picked it up again Except to pack it in a box of old forgotten things I wonder what made them stop it Was it a child who went to play outside with his friends? And when he returned Was he grown with no desire to be a child again? Did he find a better movie to watch? Or did he find the movie boring and never bothered with it again? Was it a Mother watching it while feeding her baby? Did she leave to get more food? And while she was out Did she come across the new and improved DVD player? Did she find it on sale and thought it must be better than VHS? Maybe it was an old man reliving an easier day when he was younger Was it the last movie he watched Before the paramedics stopped it And took him away to his final resting place? Was it his daughter who took it out of the VCR Placed it carefully in its casing Put it with all the other VHS tapes she found in an old box Gave that box to the thrift shop Where I inevitably found it and brought it home Why was this VHS forgotten?
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Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 5:38 PM UTC
Old Forgotten Things
I often think back to the times before school Times when I was 3 When my mother would stand in the rain with my big brother Rain boots and umbrellas keeping them dry I remember getting scared of the thunder and I'd wake up in a panic, because she wasn't next to me. She always came back inside, Tossed a movie into the VCR And stroked my hair Promising me it was just God bowling Celebrating the new angels he's welcomed home She always mentioned that he was sorry for being so loud, but couldn't contain his excitement. Now I'm almost finished with school And it's never phased me, when I dont wake up to her I don't wake up to her at all She left. And I dont think much of the thunderstorms anymore Its just rain And I just feel empty and anxious Petrichor always arrives at my door step Welcome home petrichor... Maybe I'll throw a bowling party for you since my mother won't return...
0
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 9:23 PM UTC
Bowling Thunderstorms
I don't remember Let's go back in time then Rewind the mind Like a VCR Remember those? I was 17, maybe Like a baby basic and small a simple kind of life Not this staggering strife He & me 21 with no job and a place of his own "Cool." We we're cool. And it functioned And my cellphone was always close-by And everything he said echoed nicely And we we're "us" And it was "what we're gonna do" And it's dead now What? Yeah. We might not have a gravesite But I swear I visit it anyway - And I think it's cool
0
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 1:05 PM UTC
Cool
1. Your cornflower blue eyes crinkled and laughing, sometimes flashing like the storms you love to chase 2. Your strawberry blond mop that smelled nothing like fruit but instead of sweat and grime, clinging to your brow when you removed that Pepsi baseball cap 3. Easter egg hunts on your birthday, like plastic flowers in melted snow and you up trees and on the roof of grandma's garage 4. Rare compromises that built tree forts or wound up the tire swing until it bounced and whirled its passenger like a spinning top 5. When everything you did, I wanted to do too--whether it was rescuing the princess or flying an X-wing 6. Diddy and Dixie Kong headlocked and tangled in armpits, wrestling for the Super Nintendo controller or for the remote for the VCR until Donkey had enough and made them both watch Barney 7. The laughter of you and your friends from the basement or slipping around the corner, back when I said “Me too” and meant “include me” 8. Games of war crouched behind the couches when the only war you dreamt about was the one in Narnia 9. The cliff in Hawaii over the smoking volcanic ocean water and Mom screaming for you to come down 10. When you push me, like the dominoes you used to line up and watch devotedly as they toppled over, one after the other because sometimes general incivility is the very essence of love.
0
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 12:05 PM UTC
Ten Things That I Thought of on Your Birthday
Heads revolving around topics and unanswered questions, And questions about a lonely fan Staring at us, revolving its three pedal shaped figures, Not creating any new air, Just transcending what we already have to us Which I find pretty ironic… But we can’t live without that fan can we? I lost track of time not because I am lost, but because my phone died on me Along with all the other people around ; The unity between material and man… My coffee, is black And so is her sweater now half wrinkled half folded over, Because she can’t seem to figure out a way to sit, A way to think A way to sink in the thoughts of the whole universe within one glace of her beautiful eyes- Bumping into mine; And our eye contact couldn’t stand longer than two seconds, But in those two seconds, I met her, I got to know her better, We went on our first date I created a whole scenario about us living together and having a child running to me saying “dad, how did you meet mommy” but child I never did… Smiling faces, joyful faces Shape the vibe of the coffee shop that has been my sanctuary for the summer; The summer of “enchanter”, blue silver and white lights Long walks on the shores of my chores, And thoughts that were once yours Until you sent me those messages And from that day I realized I am alone. I am alone for when I met you, You told me the story of how once you were a child Growing up between warheads and air headed brothers, And fairy dust brushed off of the VCR tapes from your favorite movies Which are now nothing but old 90’s classics. When I met you, You talked to me of how you want to become a fashion designer, And visit france and sleep in paris Stopping time right at the moment when you find your prince charming, Because if time passes by and you grow old You lose track of things and time and not cause your phone died on you But because you are lost. You are lost in space and time for when I met you, you told me about past crushes and crushed hearts, Future plans and undiscovered parts; But you never told me about you now…who you are… As if it was my job to discover that, As if I was obliged to read the signs in your desperate eyes And come up with a full analysis of the thing that is you On a white sheet, same as the one I was writing on Before I cried poetry upon it; And poetry becomes fire when in contact with the air I breathe, And so I choke on ashes every time I see you For the poetry I wanna write could not be spoken so I just keep it inside; I just keep it inside and choke on it…
0
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 4:33 AM UTC
White Receipt in a Coffee Shop:
Heads revolving around topics and unanswered questions, And questions about a lonely fan Staring at us, revolving its three pedal shaped figures, Not creating any new air, Just transcending what we already have to us Which I find pretty ironic… But we can’t live without that fan can we? I lost track of time not because I am lost, but because my phone died on me Along with all the other people around ; The unity between material and man… My coffee, is black And so is her sweater now half wrinkled half folded over, Because she can’t seem to figure out a way to sit, A way to think A way to sink in the thoughts of the whole universe within one glace of her beautiful eyes- Bumping into mine; And our eye contact couldn’t stand longer than two seconds, But in those two seconds, I met her, I got to know her better, We went on our first date I created a whole scenario about us living together and having a child running to me saying “dad, how did you meet mommy” but child I never did… Smiling faces, joyful faces Shape the vibe of the coffee shop that has been my sanctuary for the summer; The summer of “enchanter”, blue silver and white lights Long walks on the shores of my chores, And thoughts that were once yours Until you sent me those messages And from that day I realized I am alone. I am alone for when I met you, You told me the story of how once you were a child Growing up between warheads and air headed brothers, And fairy dust brushed off of the VCR tapes from your favorite movies Which are now nothing but old 90’s classics. When I met you, You talked to me of how you want to become a fashion designer, And visit france and sleep in paris Stopping time right at the moment when you find your prince charming, Because if time passes by and you grow old You lose track of things and time and not cause your phone died on you But because you are lost. You are lost in space and time for when I met you, you told me about past crushes and crushed hearts, Future plans and undiscovered parts; But you never told me about you now…who you are… As if it was my job to discover that, As if I was obliged to read the signs in your desperate eyes And come up with a full analysis of the thing that is you On a white sheet, same as the one I was writing on Before I cried poetry upon it; And poetry becomes fire when in contact with the air I breathe, And so I choke on ashes every time I see you For the poetry I wanna write could not be spoken so I just keep it inside; I just keep it inside and choke on it…
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55
My mind resembles something like a rabid VCR—baring its teeth, foaming, unapologetic, at the mouth, rewinding and replaying and repeating all of the small cuts of two people I swear I used to know and love. Rerunning a patchwork reel of the scenes I can stand to remember— (which is all of them when I’m feeling particularly masochistic). Rhythmic static travels from top to bottom of my mind’s eye— a familiar flaw, cracking and popping as the picture struggles to come clear. I try to stop it—all of it. Rip plug from outlet— throw this snarling archaic beast against some unsuspecting wall. But it’s made in the good ol’ US of A and runs on something a bit more complicated than any energy they can send me a bill for. So I'm stuck in this cyclical hell, where there is no fresh air, and the only oxygen I can get has to be ****** through a barely functioning dollar store crazy straw. And, really, my only anger is directed at Dante for not including this part in his little ditty about the Inferno. I swear I’d take trying and failing to escape a river of boiling blood over whatever it is that causes me to create a dramatic VCR metaphor any day.
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Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 10:45 AM UTC
a level up for my homeboy, Dante
Capture my ocean side. Surf my skin like you'd trace   your fingers on   VCR tape. Wrap your hands   around my neck,   until I fade to black-- looking into your eyes. Capture my ocean side.   It feels like a diamond is sinking into my chest.   I want to hit myself,             repeatedly, until I can't feel anything but my blue skin smush underneath my knuckles.   My fingernails       kissing my palms. Capture my ocean side.   I cannot face what I have drawn onto my mirror. What I found measurable,   has lost scale, has lost           purpose, immensely, breathless. Rewind the tape   around my neck. I'd rather not see through   the film     or you. Capture my ocean side.
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Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 9:50 PM UTC
Capture my Ocean Side
Wireshell trash can sweep-brushed by Fusion, Alero, Chrysler Something. They’re filled to the brim like sepia-stained skyscrapers with swivel chairs and water cooler pow-wows. Boss’ talking fax machines and projections for the second fiscal quarter, flipping a stock EKG reading on its *** We’re all millionaires. All up like the NYSE at seven o’clock in our living rooms watching the fireplace playfully threaten our investments while CNN sends money through the VCR slot. Cars, no garbage trucks, cars, cars, scraping hubcaps off the high sidewalks like beautiful harpsichords. Neighbors. Suitcases and dresser drawers packed tight with meat tape, paper towels, and coffee mugs/fine China make heaped trash bags seem obsolete. There’s no garbage here. Downtown’s neon district makes enough that they could afford a glowsign on every window, every square inch of every lunch special, gallery opening, or Salvation Army bell-ringer. Forget New York, we're the city that never sleeps.
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Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
No Garbage Here
I want to rewind it all. I'm watching the snow fall out my window and I can't help but daydream about catching it on my tongue all those years ago. Back when I'd breathe onto windows so I could draw pictures, back when the whole world was my canvas. It seems the whole world's already been colored in though, like there's no more room left for us dreamers. I read a poem in junior high asking where dreams go, but now I care more about where the dreamers went. I want to rewind it all. Back to when I thought the sky was another world's ocean, Back before I had ever heard the word stratosphere or had failed a biology test. I want life to be recorded on a VCR, little green and red buttons putting my mind at ease. Then again, I haven't owned a VCR in years...
0
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
Rewind
He was always warm Like his coffee colored skin His smiled hugged you Brought you into submission Until your bones wrapped under his I'd play with the outlines of his anatomy The way his muscles protruded And relaxed when my fingers traced his His laugh echoed like violins Symphonies playing wildly in my ears And when I'd undress He'd always stare Singing how he won a master piece That was only his And no one else's to share The summer heat burned us Yet only the summer knew The conversations that filled that room He held a scar on his chest I'd kiss it everyday to remind him how beautiful pain is. The way his hair curled And felt like silk when I'd run through it The way I'd look down and kiss him The world stopped But so did the day he left And like a VCR I hit replay A memory so vivid Yet fading each and everyday
0
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC
The Room
Do you remember those old VHS tapes? The predecessor to dvds, which were the predecessor to blu rays, and it goes on and on. Anyways back to the VHS tapes, I don’t know I’ve always loved them. I know it’s weird They were such a hassle You’d have to stick it in the VCR, rewind it, fast forward it, so on and so forth. DVD’s are so much easier Yet I’ve always loved the VHS tapes. Maybe it’s because they remind me of my childhood. Or because they contain the finest films to ever grace the silver screen. Or it might even be because, no matter how long ago I last watched them, they ALWAYS pick up right where I left off. I think that’s beautiful. The Mary Kate and Ashley and Rugrat VHS tapes, sitting in my basement haven’t been placed in that VCR for years, but it’s comforting to know that someday when I’m feeling nostalgic enough to watch one of them, once it enters that VCR, it will be in the EXACT spot I left it 6 years ago when I watched it last. It would be amazing if life were like those VHS tapes. All the people you haven’t seen in years, are just waiting there for you to arrive again, just to pick up right where you left off. No need to rewind or fast forward. It’s not quite that easy though. There are people in this life, that I know are just like those tapes. I may not have seen them for months, but once I do it’s a straight shot back to where we were. Then there are people like DVDs who don’t wait, they don’t stay just where you want them to, they keep moving and moving, until one day you’re not sure where they’ve gone. So you have no other choice then to restart, and find someone new. I know that there are people in this life, just like the people in the films on those VHS tapes. There are people in this life that see the loveliness of it all They understand the beautiful gift they’ve been given each day They know that people are sacred, living, breathing, feeling, beings. And then there are people like me, who look at life with confusion, and concern, and wonder everyday, what the hell is going on. Who know that life isn’t like that VHS tape, but wish more than anything that it was
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Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 1:29 PM UTC
VHS Tape
Do you remember those old VHS tapes? The predecessor to dvds, which were the predecessor to blu rays, and it goes on and on. Anyways back to the VHS tapes, I don’t know I’ve always loved them. I know it’s weird They were such a hassle You’d have to stick it in the VCR, rewind it, fast forward it, so on and so forth. DVD’s are so much easier Yet I’ve always loved the VHS tapes. Maybe it’s because they remind me of my childhood. Or because they contain the finest films to ever grace the silver screen. Or it might even be because, no matter how long ago I last watched them, they ALWAYS pick up right where I left off. I think that’s beautiful. The Mary Kate and Ashley and Rugrat VHS tapes, sitting in my basement haven’t been placed in that VCR for years, but it’s comforting to know that someday when I’m feeling nostalgic enough to watch one of them, once it enters that VCR, it will be in the EXACT spot I left it 6 years ago when I watched it last. It would be amazing if life were like those VHS tapes. All the people you haven’t seen in years, are just waiting there for you to arrive again, just to pick up right where you left off. No need to rewind or fast forward. It’s not quite that easy though. There are people in this life, that I know are just like those tapes. I may not have seen them for months, but once I do it’s a straight shot back to where we were. Then there are people like DVDs who don’t wait, they don’t stay just where you want them to, they keep moving and moving, until one day you’re not sure where they’ve gone. So you have no other choice then to restart, and find someone new. I know that there are people in this life, just like the people in the films on those VHS tapes. There are people in this life that see the loveliness of it all They understand the beautiful gift they’ve been given each day They know that people are sacred, living, breathing, feeling, beings. And then there are people like me, who look at life with confusion, and concern, and wonder everyday, what the hell is going on. Who know that life isn’t like that VHS tape, but wish more than anything that it was
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coming upon this photo of us I hadn't seen (pre-mortem, my blind happiness) my breathing stops, my uncle in the other room stops yelling about the VCR appropriately. I can hear him bounding down the steps, leaving the upstairs for me alone, a place to sit and stare at this. I am standing behind Spencer and you are beside me but you look more as if the slushie in your hand could bring you more excitement. you look blank and I look blind and everyone else is background to my realization and your arrogance in everything from your dead-pan eyes to your arm lingering at your side, not holding mine. I can see the tops of your stupid shoes that I told you to throw out and I would pay for another pair. I can see all of the things I ate that day heaved into a toilet later that night and you were gone by the 18th of October. It's funny how I can tell we are not puzzle pieces and we do not fit. Sure there are crooks and crannies where an elbow can rest and a head may lay but most of the time arms will fit around you only if you want them to.
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Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 9:07 PM UTC
way fun analog fun