Poems in the key of KABLAM

[flaggwalkstheline]

it looks like you altered the first line, too? do you remember what it previously was, I need to change it in the Index

ah I think it was "the blue eyed schemer whispered to the green eyed dreamer"

[Jon]

And I suspect that "Mountains" was meant to be possessive.

[flaggwalkstheline]

And I suspect that "Mountains" was meant to be possessive.

u oughtta be an editor lol
fixed it, thats a frequent typo I make

[Jon]

That's ok.

Yesterday at work, on the company website for all to see, I typed "Has anyone checked ***'s pill count?"

But I left the "O" out of "count."

[flaggwalkstheline]

wow thats awkwardly awesome

[Jon]

Yeah...it was THE boss that discovered it.!!

[flaggwalkstheline]

just about squeezed the last drop outta a theme I've been on for a few poems lol


A butterfly floated from an insectile cloud taller than the mountain
A nectar drinking yellow leaf touched your hair and dissappeared downward
I wanted right then to give you a wind touched kiss
We sat on a rock and watched the six legged sunset

That night I dreamed all my teeth fell out of their sockets and were planted in the soil
Roots detached from their desolate pink homeland
Great trees grew from them and carressed the sky
And from the branches flew a butterfly

[Jon]

Keep squeezin' man!

[flaggwalkstheline]

what I mean is I usually have a theme or a metaphor that I work with for 3 or 4 poems before I move on to a new one

[flaggwalkstheline]

I had a drawer at the bottom of my dresser
Where I kept trinkets and
Important things
Old keys to doors of places torn down decades ago
Made of brass and iron but feeling in my hand like old bones
Two broken wristwatches
Given to me on two separate occasions
A page sized picture of Alexandra
Grinning her fuck-your-house and burn-down-your body smirk
A ticket stub from a Bob Dylan concert
Touching it I can almost hear the blues
A love letter from Megan written after she moved
Somehow it still smells like the perfume she sprayed on it
And a stack of old unfinished poems and short stories
Crude and coffee stained like maps in movies used by pirates
I took all of these relics
And tossed them in a dumpster
Like virgins into a volcano
I sacrifice my past to feed my hungry future
To sew a wound in need of a suture
Into the dumpster
Except of course
The Dylan ticket

[flaggwalkstheline]

Small green leaves shake nervously
Shuddering against white rock
Knowing the cold will claim
Their coin shaped bodies
Two brave hummingbirds divebomb the invading force
I duck my head

[flaggwalkstheline]

To the rocks which we dig our fingers into
We are no different from the ants crawling
Or eternal dust in a sunbeam which might make me sneeze

[Seymour_Glass]

I had a drawer at the bottom of my dresser
Where I kept trinkets and
Important things
Old keys to doors of places torn down decades ago
Made of brass and iron but feeling in my hand like old bones
Two broken wristwatches
Given to me on two separate occasions
A page sized picture of Alexandra
Grinning her fuck-your-house and burn-down-your body smirk
A ticket stub from a Bob Dylan concert
Touching it I can almost hear the blues
A love letter from Megan written after she moved
Somehow it still smells like the perfume she sprayed on it
And a stack of old unfinished poems and short stories
Crude and coffee stained like maps in movies used by pirates
I took all of these relics
And tossed them in a dumpster
Like virgins into a volcano
I sacrifice my past to feed my hungry future
To sew a wound in need of a suture
Into the dumpster
Except of course
The Dylan ticket

Okay, I love this so much. So much.

Spoiler:

So much.

[flaggwalkstheline]

I had a drawer at the bottom of my dresser
Where I kept trinkets and
Important things
Old keys to doors of places torn down decades ago
Made of brass and iron but feeling in my hand like old bones
Two broken wristwatches
Given to me on two separate occasions
A page sized picture of Alexandra
Grinning her fuck-your-house and burn-down-your body smirk
A ticket stub from a Bob Dylan concert
Touching it I can almost hear the blues
A love letter from Megan written after she moved
Somehow it still smells like the perfume she sprayed on it
And a stack of old unfinished poems and short stories
Crude and coffee stained like maps in movies used by pirates
I took all of these relics
And tossed them in a dumpster
Like virgins into a volcano
I sacrifice my past to feed my hungry future
To sew a wound in need of a suture
Into the dumpster
Except of course
The Dylan ticket

Okay, I love this so much. So much.

Spoiler:

So much.

I have recently come upon the opportunity to get a book published!
Gotta tell everyone I know/ talk 2!


another narrarative poem

Well it happened

While surfing youtube
I found a comment in the comments section while watching a beavis and butthead video
Saying “It is so funny that beavis and butthead go to highland highschool in Albuquerque
Cause that’s like down the street from me lol!”
I responded “That’s so funny I’ve thought the same thing cause that’s where I live too!”
Then I realized
The first comment
Was me 3 months ago

[Seymour_Glass]

[flaggwalkstheline]

I am so on FIRE today, I've hammered out like 10 new poems!




The rat grinned a blue grin
A leaf hisses across dirty feet
His ribs feel very thin
Water drips in a weak flow
And the garbage pile is running low
Don’t mistake it for a crimson snicker
The candle hasn’t yet started to flicker

As blue as his eyes
The rat grinned a blue grin

And buried his head in fame

[Seymour_Glass]

[flaggwalkstheline]

A telescope is gazing up at a million suns blinking in the year long blackness
A telescope was built in Antarctica
And it has the front row seats to heaven
No one can go there and look through it because of the cold
Because of the cold
A telescope stares up from earth as empty as blank paper and is alone

[flaggwalkstheline]

very revised variation on one of the above poems




The rat grinned

Blue
In like a hurricane
Red
The barrel of a firearm
The small print of the contract
Signing away
Years I could have spent moping
Don’t drop the cannonball
In a vulturous swoop
The deal goes like this
We get the future
Once crumb of tomorrow at a time
Dropped onto a cracked plate
The garbage pile is running low
And when I kneel to drink it
The river ceases to flow
The rat grinned
Green
How his teeth gleamed mean
And wrapped a hairless appendage
Over a gearshift
Accelerating into yesterday’s cinderblock breakfast
Sometimes I do try
Sometimes
I give a draconian shove
And fall over choking on exhaustion
I rode my silver bicycle fast
Past a dull cheap 2 story motel
I saw an old man sitting on a bed through an open door
Eyes like sinking battleships
Gone in a desolate blur
More crumbs in the mud
The rat grinned
Hands
Me, a hammer and nails
Daring me to make him a martyr
None of us have been to the future
At least not all at once
We painted yesterday
Until it shined retro-blank
Lies that looked like pearls
Wait!
There used to be
Jovial robber baron nephilim
Twirling shoe polish mustaches
But they pawed their way into the soil
Long before the deal went down the drain
Out of the sky
No more blue to drink
The rat grinned
Popped open the tab on his beercan
Not such a plague-ventriloquist
Once you get to know him
Show him if you care
When he speaks
Press your ear to the linoleum
And tell me if you hear a heartbeat

[Jon]

Interesting subject matter.

I love the line

"We painted yesterday
Until it shined retro-blank"


Good stuff man.

[flaggwalkstheline]

Bent spoon induced auditory hallucination

The saddest image I can conjure up
Is a bent spoon
When I was a child
Brimming with wonder
I found a bent spoon
Underneath the sofa
The crooked faux-silver
Acted like a satellite
Bouncing the noises of my future
Off of my developing psyche

Bent spoon
You are the symbol
Of civilization committing suicide
Blowing it’s brains out after failing to scoop out icecream from the carton

Bent spoon
The creaking of your metal
Is

The sound of wind on dead grass
The rumbling of trucks in the hours before dawn
Ah and the long silent inhale just before the planes hit the towers
That was there
The lipsmacking end of 12 years where the biggest fear was of the president’s libido

My only response was to weep
Because I was so small
Because I felt like I had just heard the angels high-fiving and scorning us once and for all

And there was also
The chainsaw noise of my own laughter
That was what cut the most
Because that’s what I would do now

If the utensil gods decided to bless me
With a terrifying auditory vision
From a bent spoon

I would only laugh

[flaggwalkstheline]

The corpses of used up cigarettes and cicadas
Line the sidewalk under corporate bushes
A blind man taps his way
Across the crosswalk
In front of waiting, snuffling cars
They all hold their breath
And wonder
“Who’s it gonna be?”

[Jon]

intrigue

[smcicr]

Firstly congrats on the book!

Secondly - just wanted to say that I'm really enjoying these - they have a Ginsberg feel to them in places and I love the descriptions:

Grinning her fuck-your-house and burn-down-your body smirk

and

The chainsaw noise of my own laughter

To name but two.

Keep 'em coming.

[flaggwalkstheline]

Firstly congrats on the book!

Secondly - just wanted to say that I'm really enjoying these - they have a Ginsberg feel to them in places and I love the descriptions:

Grinning her fuck-your-house and burn-down-your body smirk

and

The chainsaw noise of my own laughter

To name but two.

Keep 'em coming.

Oh I will, I'm glad u like them
I've been checking my email obsesively since I sent the manuscript in 2 days ago
Ginsberg is (obviously) a very big influence on me lol