Saturday, December 17, 2011

iPod Poems

(February 6th, 2010)
Poem
Investor
Filling orders requested
As signs dwell between past and present
I am in those spaces
Are you listening as particles collide over me
New noises and new toys to make me known
Don't deny me my existence
In this hungry place the liberty is satisfying my cravings
Quietly I dwell
As the afternoon sun hides from warming me
But cool air can do nothing to reslice the past
Thanks to those who make me nervous
I need you plenty as I need noone else

(July 25th, 2010)
Pome
I am a loner
I use others to feed my selfish desires.
They are there for me
Am I there for them?
Am I
Am I?
First steps always, right?
Then what?
Then wind me up and let me go
Out on my own
Subtleties and vagaries
Weave nothing below my mottled surface
Ah fuck you
I am sorry I treated you so
Shelved with no place to go
In my little universe you were trapped
My little universe is selfish
I have so little power I'm told
But I don't believe you.
I think I am incredibly powerful.
And in this delusion of mine I am sorry.
Even outside I am sorry.
I am using my own desires to stall these pathways
To block these highways
These highways
My highways
Your flaking roadways
And you still smile
A sad smile
Thank you.

(August 2nd, 2010)
How tragic some realities become
When perception is limited
We know nothing
A war vet blind to all but his crisp appearance
Begging on these streets
A facade perhaps
And cynicism turns round opinions so quick
But meanwhile the poor man stands grinning and hopeful
His mind a shell of its wasted potential
His mind is gone
For reasons I will not know
I will leave him behind this afternoon
He will keep on being
I am sorry til my perception turns elsewhere
But he will still be
His world will still turn
And I don't know even how I will treat him while my perception of him is strong
He is simple in my eyes
And I pass over the layers subtle in his eyes
Sorry
What more am I willing to be?

But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires. -James Joyce, Dubliners

Sent from my iPod


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