Poems: 240121 - January 24th, 2021

[Robert Morpheal]

240121A

----------- 

Gut wrenching 

jazz blues 

played in the way

they don't 

play anymore

to broken clefs. 

Nothing getting 

in the way now 

of now and then 

drab intonations 

of uniform dismal

between antagonisms. 

Some still believe 

in fairy princesses 

and knighthoods 

without the white horses 

of rock and roll

adjusting vertical hold. 

Some still believe 

anything they are told 

if it is coupled 

with a sense of orgasm

that seems to cum 

from systemic sources. 

Nobel laureates 

debating the futures 

of isn't and wasn't 

under wild cascades

of digital note

rush of paper cuts. 

Pen letters 

lacking muscle 

could never push 

in to shelter caves

in the seasonal rains 

of economic collapse. 

It certainly isn't 

the world you made

up as quilted 

scraps of optimistic 

statements of mind 

reflected in bank accounts. 

Collecting reward points 

as if you can trade 

for a dream lover 

on the black market 

behind the box stores 

of a treadmill mall. 

-------------------------- 

240121B

----------- 

Sitting around 

in the usual scatter 

of attention deficit 

trying to spot 

the properly medicated

glass eyed stares 

in a jittery crowd. 

Stare into the glass 

of the failed escapes 

that went too far 

and are now productive 

members of obsession

re-purposed utensils 

concentrated on making. 

No one makes out 

in this place anymore 

dues and concepts 

having changed 

as to what you can buy 

for a daily ration 

of scratch. 

Historians will debate 

old school ideas 

of truth and love 

worlds of postage 

bringing things 

on approval

to give a sense of choice. 

We can spend time 

itemizing all the errors 

apportioning blame 

to each and every one 

still pretending 

it could have been 

something different.

What you really know 

is they still won't 

ever really let you 

held waiting game 

between choke holds 

and tight times 

of running out.

Some have found 

an instant fix 

of don't really care 

while others wonder

what the secret is

that the others have

hidden in a pocket. 

Feelings are expendable 

same as people 

and it doesn't matter 

what comes undone 

as long as it is done in 

as something 

been done before.

---------------------- 

240121C

----------- 

There is talk 

of razored wrists 

and bleeding out 

into some warm red 

seas of politics. 

I knew a girl once 

who demonstrated 

the scars running 

length of  her wrists 

into finding a god. 

If you listen closely 

it might convince you 

it is all about a sea

of sticky red flags

dragged across floors. 

Per capita decapita 

counts as millions 

along the scrub  

of machine gun fire 

cuts public school lines. 

Red rover, red rover 

let the next one try

to come over 

into another take down 

knee capped life. 

Terminal existence 

measured overtime 

listing insecurities 

and always trading off 

for a Popsicle of meaning.  

Crab scuttle 

along the bottom 

feed decay 

leaves a shell game 

of pointless guesses. 

Laughter sucks at 

take the dreams out 

smoking hot 

farts from dead pigeons

into broken wind pipes. 

The inhale 

of the asphyxiate 

signifies another 

variant of dead ending 

under a fresh sheet

in a popular morgue. 

------------------------- 

240121D

------------ 

I always envied 

those who could pound 

the real ivories 

pushing them past 

the tinkle tonk 

out of tuned misery. 

Never one of them

past tangle fingered 

Frustrato tones 

pounding the skins 

of ear drums 

with sharp sticks. 

Piano wire 

being a garrote

played Sostenuto 

into a soft twist

of a silenced night 

cuts hard across. 

Why so brutal 

all the nocturnes 

marking time 

and intonations 

of so much loss 

always played out. 

Played out 

but never really in 

before the big lie 

and the twist of fate 

dictates ending 

worse than before. 

Life goes 

the way it goes 

a bad score 

from a bad source 

turned sour notes 

down memory lane. 

Honky tonk wiz 

rattling keys 

creating illusions 

of someone being 

actually free 

from traffic noise. 

It has all gone 

but don't ask me 

where it has gone 

though I know 

we lose a little 

more each day. 

------------------ 

240121E

-----------  

Stopped imagining 

finding something 

that someone else lost 

somewhere out there

on some city street 

of all that sometime 

midst of gets nowhere. 

Stopped looking 

into open doorways 

knowing nowhere 

anywhere when and  more 

where someone lost

something I would want

into chanced find arms. 

There are others 

who try to walk in 

to somewhere in mind 

who mostly never really

ever know why 

they passed through 

into someone else.

Caged bird caged

in a cage without a song 

no more dance to dance 

having imagined 

something else 

as to something found 

that would be alright. 

That isn't the way 

but I don't really know

what really is 

and what isn't or why 

when it comes down 

to finding something 

that some called “love”.  

---------------------------