poetry
-
The Science of Poetry I Einstein’s incendiary ideas words arranged in an idea of order mathematical sequencing it is the intellectual alchemy of the dead watchmaker thoughts boiled in time reduced in a nanosecond of synaptic flash to the ashen essence of humanity the pure black symmetry of silhouette in shadow tarot cards tossed into
-
“I Predict Pain” -Clubber Lang I’d been training hard every day for a year and had bruised the ribs of Marines twice the size of the tall drink of water in the opposite corner. Figured I’d punch a hole through this skinny kid from New York. My corner man tells me to be careful “
-
True Bromance He was my first hipster hat on his silver head, harmonica in hand 2002, 50 year old Mike on the mic Clay man takes the stage at the velvet hookah, a genuine too cool for Sunday school house rocking stray cat scatting our grateful dead white and blues period. This is not another
-
Fool “Centuries ago it had an ‘e’ at the end.” -H. F. I speak to you with out the faith offered by the pope, But “the illusion of faith offered by drugs, rock music, and contemporary poetry.” I speak to you with a mouth full of broken vows and blood, but the voice of the
-
My Goth Name Is Becky a Blues poem for Sarah Vowell. I sing the suburban American girl electric blues. I sing the red haired, white skinned, blues eyed girl bottom shelf vodka tonic ice blues. I sing the suffragette, subjugated, suppression blues. Harmonic wail of the locomotive steel slide upscale dive bar blues. Twenty first century
-
Drunken Muse Date Raped: Gives Birth To Out Of Wedlock Poem Tonight the poems come Like the girls who fall over with their legs in the air. Sometimes the poems come quick as a school boy on prom night Drunk on sweet wine, another sordid stain Added to a rented tux. It’s like that when
-
All I Want is to Write The Poem All I want is to write the poem that makes the mute girl sing. All I want is to write the poem that frightens cherub faced girls. All I want is to write the poem that gets me excommunicated by the pope and I ain’t even catholic.
-
The Texas School Book Depository the sixth floor museum at Dealey Plaza. I have never visited this place but I have driven by it hundreds or possibly thousands of times. I simply do not understand the attraction. If I were visiting Washington D. C. I would not want to visit Ford’s theatre.Tourist are just weird. There
-
A Triptych of Poems for a Dead Poet Dead Baby Blue for Robert Trammell Beware, Life is not a dream even when dead birds lying drunkenly in the gutter suddenly straighten Verona feathers stand on broken feet of poems vomit a gut full of idealistic maggots eyes swimming against the … bone, (alabaster, ivory, eggshell,
-
TRAMP: White Rabbit Season “One pill makes you largerAnd one pill makes you smallAnd the ones that mother gives youDon’t do anything at allGo ask AliceWhen she’s ten feet tall” -Jefferson Airplane The bullet from the old man’s 22 caliber semiautomatic pistol must have clipped its spine and its little rabbit brain was terribly confused
Joey Cloudy online 