Posts for June 10, 2018 (page 2)

Category
Poem

RHETORICAL QUESTIONS AND APOLOGY

Was Lot’s wife a pillar of her community?
Put another way, was she the pillar of Sodium and Gomorrah?
Do you remember where you were the day of the Bowling Green Massacre?
If you are bankrupt, how can you afford a bankruptcy lawyer?
With only 3% of fecal donor applicants being accepted, is this a case of “Many are called, but few are chosen”?
Will Big Pharma produce a non-racist sleep medicine?
I am so sorry, especially for the one about Lot’s wife.
I’m not looking back.


Category
Poem

When Your Children Are Grown

Don’t wake me up, I have to see what’s ahead of me.
  Your children they’re all grown, now they watch you go backwards.
  All the young people aren’t watching the clock.
  Time runs away from us.
  The eyes of your friends and family, follow you as you go.
  First your memory then all your belongings, they won’t follow you where you’ll go.
  I’m too young to know life’s lessons, but I’m old enough to ask the questions.
  But is that enough?
  Through the gates of a cemetery, and onwards to the clouds.
  The way in is the wrong direction.
  Here you’ve no clout.
  My friends my companions, what has become of you?
 All my days were passing before me, and I thought I had control.
  Now I know, it’s not what you’re doing, but what you’ll see.
  You can’t find your answers from your elders, and the kids give nothing for free.
  All your children have taken your place, and the circle goes round.    What’s there to do?
  What time do I have to solve my problems?
  Why does it all go away?
  Don’t wake me up, I’d rather pass the time sleeping.
  There I can slow it all down.
  But I can’t buy a future, and the past has let me down.
  The past has let you down.
  Your present is your sorrow, take it as a gift.
  When your children are grown, you’ll remember what you once were.     Just memories, no return.


Category
Poem

Grand

I serve as filling
Of a sweet, two-boy sandwich
Between two wet heads.


Bronson O'Quinn
Participant
Category
Poem

bullying poem #02: favors

The first week of high school,
freshman year,
I sat next to J___
–a tall, overweight, dark-skinned geek–
who had a Nintendo shirt,
or some other flag I identified with.

In Japanese class, he told me about an anime
where large-breasted girls performed sex acts.
I stopped sitting with him after that
and ignored him for nearly four years.

But in the last semester of high school,
senior year,
I couldn’t handle my emotions
and went to The Ridge.
On my last day there, J___ showed up,
just a few hours before I left,
and I asked him, 
“Could you not tell anyone
you saw me here?”

He said Yeah.
Sure.

I told everyone I had the flu for two weeks,
and as far as I know,
they bought it.
So to J___,
I want you to know
that I appreciate the favor
even though I’m pretty sure
17-year-old me
would never
have done it
for you.


Category
Poem

Low Tide

when words are absent
the ocean still calls my name
come share your dreams, love.

Category
Poem

Cardio Ballistica

An unexpected kiss
spontaneously fired
into the empty rooms
of a disillusioned heart
will lose some velocity
over time but continue
to ricochet until the day
that heart stops beating.


Category
Poem

Resentments: No. 1

He helped
me pack and break
away from the last
place but
never asked me
to approve all
his decisions and
how can I unpack
into a home where
I refuse to
create a
little room
for me?


Category
Poem

A storm by myself

I sit below the open window

and listen to the rain as if
it were the sound of voices.
The empty room echoes behind me
with the white sound.

Category
Poem

A Secret About Love

Morningbirds mocked the man as he descended
the apartment stairs after the night’s goodbye.
His footsteps drug with the weight of his eyelids
and echoed down the hallways with his questions.
Why did he make the choices he made?
What was the point of all he had done?
He bought her drinks, drove her home,
stopped for food and an errand at the store,
tacking more hours on to and already taxing day
and didn’t even get so much as a goodnight hug!

Except he already knew the answers to these questions.
They were just buried in the exhaustion and unfulfilled longing
because even the good guys can have human moments.
No, he was wise, knowing where her heart was at,
knowing he couldn’t expect anything;
kindness for the sake of reciprocation is misunderstanding love.
Someday, he may get that chance to ask for more, maybe not,
but the good night’s rest he was headed for
would kill the sting of loneliness.
He would wake up refreshed
knowing he had done a good thing.


Category
Poem

untitled

I rush to the beach at high tide.
Try to pick up all the ugly shells
I know everyone else
would leave behind.
Forget to reapply sunblock
even though the sun is 
bright as fuck 
and I’m even more
allergic.