poMotion poetry

Work in progress

with 4 comments

I have sat in noisy rooms of telephone wire begging ghosts for pennies
I have hauled ass through cars and pedestrians honking   charging with flaming red sauce meant for upper floor apartments
I have gotten drunk and drove top speed down US 36 vomiting out the window crying

I locked my self in bedrooms, bedrooms, bedrooms staying one step ahead of the on coming onslaught of company
went dancing but ended up making out at a bus stop, lost on new adventures
been broken by the glowing howling fuck called love
but was stupid enough to do it again

I have thought and wandered…
why
what if
only to wake up sweaty in a puddle
totally lost on acid in 99% humidity not sure if it was raining or not, worried that they would know:
what if I had no job and woke at ten to a cheerio’s bong?!
what if I tossed out all my books for class because I realized they had never seen the things they claimed to explain?!
what if I stayed up all night reading anarchist lit discovering that I was an anarchist all along

Once as a kick I worked for two years in a ballpark
hotdogs beer pretzels
the repeated remarks about how much this costs or how much that costs while throwing money at me
I winked as I shoved their money in my pocket
this place pulls in thousands a night they won’t miss a few hundred, I consoled myself while smoking my menthol cigarette

then while delivering in a red toy car, I peddled round disks of Italian ‘pride’ to the mansions where they kept their money tight and under surveillance
and laughed, as only the poor can laugh, at their stupidity

in rented vans I have seen corn fields, flashing police car lights and snow
jumping out to put on snow chains only to discover we don’t know how to put on snow chains
fumbling around with frozen hands while wiping snow from the Japanese instructions
but not caring, knowing this is the best trip I have ever taken
sleeping on the floor of an abandoned theater full of history and coughing and groaning
smiling radiantly
finally to wander to the stage full of electricity
but instead I watch the fog roll over the hill in rising crescendos

have seen perfect sunrises that seem to last an eternity while cheering on the dawn like pagans
in drunken rituals of debauchery
to arrive home beaten and tired but ready to howl at the moon if need be

called senators and congressman, high, demanding equal treatment
shouted from rooftops and into forests about my problems, national problems, rational problems, irrational problems
seeing no one listened I crouched in the corner and smoked

jacked off to illustrations of Molotov cocktails believing myself to be radical
just as the books told me I would
became who they said I would be when I swore I would be anything but

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Written by lickmypoetry

April 29, 2011 at 9:08 pm

Posted in poem, poetry

Tagged with , , ,

Poetry – Shmoetry

with 4 comments

To write something with power
with meaning
That is the goal
to do it while your butt looks good all the better
but
short of
flinging words at pages
drunken
with the sounds of Kansas
or football fans screaming
walking out the seven steps of the fellow craft degree of freemasonry
they hang elusively out of reach

the words
that ring true
or incite, or invoke
or inflame
lie beyond,
off this page

the distance larger than space
and time
can only be overcome through work
and patience
and I have neither

Written by lickmypoetry

April 22, 2011 at 4:10 pm

Posted in poem, poetry, Random

Tagged with

Pain seems to be truth

with 16 comments

picture me in my fucking flunky uniform

flipflopflipflop

frying

fries, burgers, buns, ketchup, mustard, fuck

the ketchup. A red puddle on the floor.

“My boss is going to be pissed!” I exclaim

half to convince myself to clean it,

half to see if my boss is paying attention.

Moving faster than if cracked with a whip the floor is

wiped, swept, mopped, polished

flipflopflipflop

frying

fries, burgers, buns, mustard, the fucking unpredictable ketchup.

I’m addicted to frying

Addicted to monotony.

But what is an addict if not a seeker of truth,

but the only route to truth is through pain.

Minute pain is minute truth.

Was I talking to myself againflip

flopflipflopflipflopflipflop

frying

fries

Written by lickmypoetry

April 18, 2011 at 6:03 pm

Posted in poem, poetry

Tagged with

Untitled 2

with 3 comments

My throat is hoarse
from yelling at robots
about the beauty of difference
and the benefits of change

They just smile and nod
bob and weave and
dance and drink
lost
looking for an app for that
waiting to clock out so they can get on with their lives
only to get up and do it again tomorrow

The smell of singed flesh
fills my nose as I watch
these “beings” surrender
to ticking and tocking
limbs become electronics
electronics become god
and wife and friends

“can I buy you a drink?”
I ask the blond
whose blouse is buttoned to her
neck
collarbone (just barely visible)
shows stress and strain
“Huh?” she replies never taking
her eyes from her phone

“one for the road” I shout to
the bartender who had long ago given
up on life
I am on my way to join him.

 

Brian Feist

Written by lickmypoetry

January 25, 2011 at 1:16 pm

Posted in poem, poetry

Tagged with

Voyeur

with 5 comments

A shadow blowing smoke.
I am a single orange eye
across the parking lot.

Two shadows dance
framed by a night bright gazebo,
a velvet forest backdrop.

Music in their heads
pulses rhythm lower.
Flesh of hands, of face have become
naked bodies.
Flesh, unashamed.

Lips meet.
Persistent butterflies
battling for the same space.
Small gasps escape
mouths half open.

Even the trees seem to turn away, embarrassed.

I wait a moment longer.
A flash through my mind (you) and
I leave to go home and feed my cats.

 

Sue Zalokar

Written by lickmypoetry

January 12, 2011 at 11:25 pm

Little Sister

with 5 comments

little sister
hold that sneer
do you honestly believe
these hips
havent been there?
do you think
the scent of your smile
hides
the lack of laugh lines
around those beautiful eyes?
do you think
i havent felt
the fear behind the flirt?
or the desperation
in the promiscuous slide
of those arms
around his neck?
rest assured
little sister
a grown man
doesnt require
the honey
between your thighs
to grant his protection…..
and he can’t
be your validation
no you ain’t
the next barbie doll queen…
u just another
little girl
trying to get grown…
rest assured little girl
that when
beauty was my only weapon
i was
a beautiful woman….
don’t let that gaze slide
over these scars
in such a sinister fashion
hush up little one
and listen….
they rest on my skin…
because
i valued my loved ones
over vanity
they are marks of honor
not shame or sin….and i am not
gonna hide them
to ease that smile
or your comfort
back into place…..
rest easy child
i own the skin i live in
its values or content
isnt contagious
you wont catch anything
by sitting next to me…
except maybe the ability to see past
those narrow little misconceptions
you seem so intent
on keeping

Julie McCurdy

Written by lickmypoetry

January 4, 2011 at 10:44 pm

Dream. Follow. Repeat.

with 5 comments

I teach Adult Literacy on the Quileute Reservation.  As part of my ongoing instruction and mentoring through the goal setting process, I set the goal to read 52 books in 2010.  A list of the books I actually read this year follows below.  I had my heart set on achieving the whole goal.  I didn ‘t make 52, but I DID read 40+ books that I might not have read.  A persons got to have a dream.   Dream.  Follow.  Repeat.

From all of us at poMotion:  may your dreams come true this year. 

1. Gallo, Kenny & Randazzo V, Matthew.   Breakshot:  A Life in the 21st Century American Mafia.
2. Lansing, Alfred. Endurance:    Shakleton’s Incredible Voyage.
3. Tobin, L.      What Do You Do With a Child Like This?  Inside the Lives      
       of Troubled Children.
4. Peavy, Linda & Smith, Ursula.   Full Court Quest
5. Piercy, Marge.     Woman on the Edge of Time
6. Crow Dog, Mary.     Lakota Woman
7. Finkel, David.     The Good Soldiers
8. Piercy, Marge.     Early Grrrl 
9. Harrar, Sari.      The Sugar Solution
10. Larson, Luke.      Senator’s Son
11. Craighead George, Jean.    The Missing Gator of Gumbo Limbo.
12. Murdock, Bob.      Untitled Manuscript.
13. Avi.       Wolf Rider
14. Dorris, Michael.     Guests
15. LeGuin, Ursula K.    Sea Road:  The Chronicles of Klatsand
16. Mortenson, Greg.     Stones to Schools
17. Valliant, John.    The Golden Spruce
18. Hrdlitschka, Shelly.     Dancing Naked
19. Delaplane, Keith, S.    First Lessons in Beekeeping
20. Akpan, Uwem.      Say You’re One of Them
21. Alexie, Sherman.     Ten Little Indians
22. Kingsolver, Barbara.     Animal Vegetable Miracle
23. Butler, Octavia, E.     Kindred
24. Seibold, Alice.     The Lovely Bones
25. Paulson, Gary.     Dog Song
26. Wroblewski, David.     The Story of Edgar Sawtelle
27. Kristof, Nicholas, D. & WuDunn, Sheryl. Half the Sky:  Turing Oppression into Oppourtunity for
       Women Worldwide
28. Berlinski, Misha.     Fieldwork
29. Krakauer, Jon.     Where Men Win Glory
30. Gilbert, Elizabeth.     Eat Pray Love
31. Robbins, Tom.      Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates
32. Ferlinghetti.     Her
33. Salinger, J.D.     The Catcher in the Rye
34. Pahalnuck, Chuck.     Pygmy
35. Sayles, John.      The Anarchists’ Convention
36. Mapes, Lynda, V.     Breaking Ground:  The Lower Elwha Klallam Tribe & the
       Unearthing of Tse-Whit-Zen
37. Atwood, Margaret.     Wilderness Tips
38. Brooks, Geraldine.    People of the Book
39. Halpern, Justin.     Shit My Dad Says
40. Stein, Garth.      The Art of Racing in the Rain
41. Rawles, Nancy.     My Jim
42. Truss, Lynn.      Eats Shoots and Leaves
43. Chabon, Michael.     The Escapist I, II, III
44.      *See above
45.      *See above
46. Woolf, Virginia.     A Room of One’s  Own
47. Stieg, Larson.     The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo
48. Hinton, S.E.    The Outsiders
49. Franzen, Jonathan   The Corrections  *unfinished*

 

Sue Zalokar

Written by lickmypoetry

December 31, 2010 at 10:07 am

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