Archive for Poems

Thoughts Without Context

I’m going to say something nice about the iPhone. Haters gonna hate; I’m sure your Droids & Datas & Daleks all have similar functions. But I love the notepad. I use it to make grocery lists, & also to write down now inexplicable things I wanted to remember, like this:

“hugpundit”

What was the purpose of that? Was it inspired by the conspicuously-absent-from-Twitter Killpundit? Was it a user name I briefly considered?

Here are some other notes, of varying import.

On January 5, 2010, I was evidently on the phone with Tabz, as I attributed these two statements to her:

“To me, he’s like…the Pope.”

&

“The pool is maturity.”

I recall wanting to make t-shirts out of these tidbits…t-shirts that would make sense to no one, t-shirts that hipsters would be over in 5 weeks.

I also write down what are to me significant visions, both waking & in dreams. To prove the dates, I’ve screen capped em:

20110612-050441.jpg

This one I dreamed was a tweet:

20110612-050534.jpg

On April 25, I wrote down “Oasis Wellness Ctr Thousand Oaks”, which I now recall has some kind of heat box that melts fat.

On April 27, I wrote this poem. I was apparently angry about the way someone treated someone I care about:

Look, bitch.
You’re a crass little piglet.
You flirt like an elderly whore.
Your mother had you in crinoline
Now you’re bracken on the shore
And your feeble lashes totter on the edge of
Something more.

About a month ago I wrote, during a function, “Advertisers are being SCREWED! Ben’s book!!!” I seem to be quite emphatic, & somehow Ben Shapiro’s ‘Primetime Propaganda’ was the answer.

In January 2010 I jotted this down. It might have been an idea for a blog post or letter:

“B4 my descent into illness-precipitated mealiness, I used to attend my fair share of hoity toity Republican soirée thingies.
Enjoy their $
PJ”

By “enjoy their $” I’m pretty sure I meant that Republicans acknowledge money & don’t agonize over it like limousine liberals. PJ has to be PJ O’Rourke, but it could also be Pajamas Media. God knows to whom this was directed.

The rest of my notes include classified information about my car & shopping needs, though you can guess exactly what my last one says…

“RockStar
Ham
White corn tortillas
Fruit
Creamer…evil??”

Agony Chorus

Tepid afterthoughts where oft
Such monsters loom amid the pangs & pains of
Sullied births & unearthed rage
And all is quiet and still except the bestial electronic thrum
Air beaten into submission because you hate noise
And all the while the loudest silence is bitten by the
Fetid discomfort of no talk and words
For words are foreign and intrusive
How will we function without words?
My God, how do we WITH?
There’s so much goddamned talking and I want to join the Air Force so some
Kind commander will send me
Three miles below the earth
A silo, a silence
Please, talk is cheap & cruel
Not one soul knows another while they blather and they
Scream through ribbons that tie us gaily
Merrily are we bound, wound round God’s finger
Reminders of lesser times when He was sorting out the darkness
And what did He want to make for Eternity?
And here these noisy beings
Hear me hear me hear me because
The other choice scrapes fear
But we who can don’t judge
We’d love you anyway
Your heart of sin & all that constant envy
None of us take it personally
Well, none except the fakes.
So please, the sake of Christ, just cap it off
So few say the thing they mean
It’s like at the red light and
The one car is bumping Lupe and the other
Is Michael Jackson
And you know each song and one has more base and
One is the truth and
One is your incessant chatter
And in my heart they clatter
And the pain is thunder.

Single Broad

Power is sketchy in Los Angeles’ odd rainy quasiapocalypse, so I thought I’d write some crappy poetry while the phone can actually charge.

The finite days of my life stretch out before me without foreseeable end
What is the use without the time when I am for you
Why else exist but to prepare
For when at need you call me
And I ease the passage of your time with quiet watches or cheerful musings
And prepare the hour of your greatness with bravery & unquestionable love?
When you come to me I will leave it all
A cocoon I’ll shed of this preparatory existence
My past of errors and lessons will I use to serve you wholly
And made to do your bidding will I absorb in full
As only God can know where you are waiting
And how you’ll recognize my heart I cannot tell
I pray you comprehend it when you see me
And in your heart will know it fully well
For I am not well versed in understanding
How these things appear to well trained minds
I flail & wonder where the light is streaming
From a distance patch of warmth I’m ill equipped to note and find
And why does this now have a rhyming scheme
When earlier it seemed as prose to come
It’s probably because I’m very silly
I hope you never mind that I am on occasion really, REALLY dumb.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 3,249 other followers