Posts for June 27, 2016 (page 2)


Lexington Streets #9

at the bus stop

she’s a plump pink tulip

pregnant  – standing

in tennis shoes wearing

head phones staring at her phone


April 27

                                          April 27

The thrill of escaping with you
time on our own away
our skin electric together
no one else laughed as we did.
We had a hunger larger than life
only the other could satisfy.


Two part Poem

     When sleep won’t come,  

I am not finished with the poem
that begs to be written
so I rise to darkness,
putting aside the chance
to dream of you.  

It is not the ending of the poem
with which I am smitten;
it is the beginning’s untidiness,
the hook I cannot dangle; it is not romance
that is lacking; it is you.                                        
The poem   

is this picture I have of you
that endures.
You bend over the sink.
You do not see my smile.  

I do not speak
though I wonder why
you are up so early
& our daughter sleeps near me.  

I lust after your body.
I feel no shame.
When you wipe shampoo
from your eyelids, you own me.  

You wrap a towel around your head.
You see me as though for the first time.
Words race across the page of my heart.
You come to me.  

You place our daughter to the right,
making room for yourself.
You put your head on my shoulder.
You whisper into my ear:  

“I hate you now;
I will hate you forever.”
You get up; return to the bathroom,
& close the door.


We call it Home

What behooves us
Often will not move us
Into action or protest.

When one side worships
A book of myth as truth
While the other side worships
A cult of personality as truth.
We ponder; “Who’s wrong and why?”
Two sides of the same coin
Flipped by fate but forgotten by time.

Some pick no sides
Expounding the truth of that time;
“Left is just as bad as right
 If the driver is confused”.

When balance is lost
The weight becomes too heavy
For justice to hold.

Greed kills compassion
Apathy breeds Contempt
Picking loyalty over peace
Using books as weapons
And identity as war
We call it Home.

K. Nicole Wilson


On repeat
with four stages
of grief,

accept it.


Get High and Water the Flowers

There’s a lot less to it-
This world we in,
When dogs wait for pay checks
Instead of the next hug given.

Wear and share a smile
And don’t forget to mention
All the love you’re feeling
When you’re not focused on you.

Some say
“I’ll enjoy the view, When I don’t have to worry about where I step”
But life is here
It doesn’t have to be prepped.

Life’s a pretty girl
Making it harder to speak
And I’m feeling for these Meeks
That are mentally weak.


Principles of Superposition

Principles of Superposition

            “I’m sorry, I know that’s a strange way
             to tell you that I know…”     
— Ben Folds

We belong                                      

                                    to spirals & helices

we’re formed
of temporal

                          & spatial


                       learning &


                                    without a nuclear

we drifted

                 split by heresies

                                                   of truth

                      & liminal

from anything

                     but absolute

that quantum



                   once worn

in servanty, recalls

                           this absurdity:

we can
be whole

                                yet occupy
                                two localities

at one

Steve Cummings

A poet on his way to the death camp

Daily Mirror June 27, 2017
“Obscure “poet” missing in Kentucky, assumed rendered”

Newly crowned Queen Hillary I is leaving no rock unturned in her quest to remove degeneracy and stupidity from the New Kingdom, with the disappearance and assumed rendition of Steve Cummings over the weekend whose “poetry” attacking the Queen during the recent political upheaval was deemed “counter-productive.”

“He was always such a sanctimonious [homosexual]” said his estranged wife in an interview Monday, his daughter adding  “I didn’t know him very well, he was always drunk and threw me out of the house when I was 16 for taking some coins out of his drawer.  His granddaughter said “He was always mean to me, and he always had to coach my teams.  The other kids all hated him.”

Assumed to be “reassigned”, family members have requested and been granted death benefits.

Even though Accents Publishing has been shut down and many members of LexPoMo missing since the American Rebirth, the Mirror has been able to acquire the poem which we reprint here in its’ entirety:  

Mr. Trump is not racist, homophobic or misogynistic and
You are ignorant, shallow or evil if you think so.
Mrs. Clinton is lawless, vicious,  and corrupt and
You are ignorant, shallow or evil if you deny it.
If you’re ignorant, please read further.
If you’re shallow, no need to read, no need to vote.
If you’re evil, you already know this.
In the 1980’s she got a rapist of a 12 year old girl free on a technicality.
In 1993, the genius Mrs. Clinton couldn’t remember 159 times why she fired 7 people from the WH travel department and replaced them with her friends but was found to have lied to investigators anyway.

During the 1990’s she spent most of her time attempting to destroy the characters of women her husband enjoyed (or tried to) but ended up writing a check to Paula Jones for $850K for sexual harassment.  She might have been indicted for obstruction but she again couldn’t recall 59 times.  Perhaps it’s dementia.

The only known time Hillary actually worked was when she cleaned to office of Vince Foster the night he “killed himself”.

She stole $200k worth of furniture, china and art from the White House when she left.

Half of her money is Arab or Chinese.   She gave Russia 20% of the world’s uranium for less than $200 million paid to her foundation

She left the Libyan Ambassador unprotected and those who tried to rescue him to die on a rooftop, then she lied to the deceased’s parents about why, nonchalantly destroying Libya in the process.

We don’t know what she told the 100 corporations she speechified, but we do know it was worth $22mil while caring for the little guy.

She left her computer more open to hackers than a drunken whore on Saturday night.

She needs a mid-sized Gulfstream to go anywhere, giving her the largest carbon footprint in the world except for Barack and family, while caring ever so much about climate change

At least now you’re not ignorant – but you could still be evil  

While The Mirror recognizes bad poetry when we read it, we think the death sentence slightly harsh.



There was a woman who planned ahead.
She chose her plot and funeral spread.
When she died one fateful night,
her stylist did her hair just right.
The daughters chose cremation instead.


Lexington Streets #7

genteel white tents

sprawled on a wide green lawn

formal gardens

ladies in dresses and hats

gardenia scented air