current events

from a couch, you don’t own the alphabet or our fabric

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

chanting three letters

draped-cloth racism

a lot like our flag

not the one i wave

hijacked mud-flaps

which one?

bars or stripes?

nuts or calvin?

your choices, representative past

you elected to pass, on education

teachers, waited

still do

perspectives lost to echos bouncing from khaki rubbed legs, mythic walls, holy grills, torches, and white skin

freedom, runs contrary to every dim-lit corner of your mind where excuses cast shadows

everyone else?

that’s your defense?

fingers fly out of your hands

“Party of four for Responsibility. Responsibility? Party of four?”

you didn’t come to eat with us, you sat outside, glass-pressed-flat faced

taking a knee

pointing up

it’s a big difference

to you

when someone else looks down

from the same position

winter precipitation falling, you can’t handle the cold, individual geometric beauty scares you to your car

safely wrapped in AM dial voices

inside, we discuss frost, and mending walls, a question befalls us all, how tall?

never mind

it’s already built, metaphorics

you’re keeping yourself out

pounding your head to the resounding, rebounding of three letters you said

strapped to a bed, feeding the thread you used to weave a fabric of lies

disguised

as something we all share

it’s not yours

or mine

zeroes and ones hide you, from me, and me, from you

this isn’t us, a three letter chant, we can all join in, if those three letters, are understood, and i realize

you could have written this about me

from a porch, the answer my friend…

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

your job is to ask tough questions

we’ve been taught not to answer

someone from the other side

breathing in and out cancer

cells multiplying rapidly, empathy paralyzed

perspectives dizzy when i turn my head

stay forward

horse parades

don’t spook the hatred

hoof beats pound forgotten dirt, demanding attention

it’s used up

passion poured out to disposes the drifters who were led without knowing

another path exists

home life excuses

tempting nooses

hanging tree galleries

branches bending, we’re all grafted

one seed

breaking, with the slightest breeze brought across seas, caught in wind pouring from your inquiries, we forgot how to address, critical diseases

critical, we need them

complete your task

i’ll formulate a response, they’ll never know

i tried

from a porch, confused confessions

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

confiding in the sinner, who’s crimes you don’t know, leaves you achingly vulnerable, bowing to deceit

from here on out, repayment is on repeat

circles without exits

direction arrows change, so must you

can you remember where you parked existences purpose?

next to death?

easier living?

decisions decided, without you

doors swing open, you’re suppose to pass through

don’t you wonder what’s behind closing passageways, after you leave

do you question why?

we know what, where is defined, who can be seen – how do you let it happen?

is it too far away?

the brilliance of righteousness

walking back brings certain death

but, what is living like?

what wakes you up?

other than an alarm they set

we’ve written about footprints

who’s coming

who went

who didn’t show up

who had an excuse not to walk

days end

imprint after imprint

creates no print

importance destroyed, order ignored

individuals who shoulder the weight of preserving an ability to wander in circles is lost, without concern

when they’re gone

so are we

the holders

of reasons

to keep moving forward

confide in the sinner, go ahead

this is the watershed

a moment we can’t lose

from bed, i see, and hate, him

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

distraction static pouring from mouths

too drunk, too tired, too far from the south

tread light, dinner is served

it’s saturday night, come hear the good word

paper exchange in light of day

leads to paper exchange under the grey…clouds moving and stretching thin across the sky, accidentally allowing us to see heaven; the sun

on earth, above

we’ve certainly done a number below, gas fuels flow, pushing our smoke stacks out of sight, money made on pretending you’re right

thankfully, ocean depths live alone

drones, internally combust

but, it’s saturday night

‘who needs that stuff, i have had enough’

say the pock-faced-aged-ignorant assholes who own this street, in closets with tie racks, kids need to know what to buy on dangerous holidays, right?

excuse his persona shift, blowing steam?, safe jumping from fuck-up faith cliffs, he’ll find their bed

not before letting the streets know he came, it’s his window to lean in, she sleeps on blue pills, the children’s eyes dizzy themselves to coma with rectangles and orange dust fingers

he guzzles, wanders, ‘i don’t weave, you move outta my way’, ripped yellow-shirt slobs, like him, say before his inflated eyes drive down her blouse

cleaned up in the day, presentable

kitchen table confidence

sleeping only after a drink of numb juice and arguments with his favorite facebook profile pic

it’s where he likes to stick, people with mirror faces, beach sand embraces, making all the power he has pounding sidewalks more noticeable

disgusting disgrace of a well dressed dickhead thinking he can dance because he heard these 90s tunes come from his gay brothers bedroom, the one he never calls

he’ll make it home

sleeping in his underwear, she’ll pick up his clothes in the morning

the kids think it’s his coffee needs

it’s bandages, covering where he bleeds

eyes wrapped in goose-step bandanas

a self-created world vision, leading to distracted-distorted static pouring from his mouth, into nothing

that’s being threatened

and he has resources

he’ll use

not before

another round

from bed, despite all the rage…

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

tender age

wrapped in a cage

i’m sitting in a king sized bed trapped by rage

oh, poor me

images, laying complicit, forcing myself to absorb every still-photo cycled, recycled, history’s nest incubated reminders, we need to thrash the dark parts of humanity, rip them to shreds, when babies cry “papa” in silver marathon beds

disassemble the fragments

destroy this age

no need to seek

it’s barreling down

unmasked

emotion-beat faces of those who consistently play straight, yah, the ones he calls fake, can’t help tear-drop reality, as they struggle to speak what was spoke by breaking-voices rushing in their numb right ears

“excuse me? what’s that? are you kidding me? i have to share what?”

“we’re live”

i know

living

we lost this hand, gave it away

tears stream into artificial color blends, now presentable, a tell

humanness

hurry up, deal the cards

you know what?

fuck it

have the chips, cash them in, stick it in your neighbors wife, we’re done

my poetics are failing me

anger controlling me

stacking up reasons there’s nothing i can do, we talk about the jew, after…

weak minded bosses who use diseased shit for brains thought process to take over society, ahhh, you fucks!

how many “h’s” do you use to demonstrate screaming through clenched teeth?

bowels released in my bed from pressure dread inculcating my heart, core, and head

being polite needs to end

upend

fuck you who are still calm and reasonable

cooler heads get frost bitten, left unable to make their mouths malleable enough to whisper

“stop”

drop and roll

they’re a fire, inhaling timber down mountainsides once hailing purple majesty

that’s their color now

royalty

red and blue fused, knot tied ideology, hues overtaken, mistaken, conjoined

copywriting the slogan on the back of our coin

of no value, inflated hearts pop, moral markets crash

trade in your blank stares and candy bar cares

‘cause

“this could be awhile”

from a couch, cynicism’s promise

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

cynicism is no excuse nor accident

it slowly seeped into our daily strolls down public sidewalks when we habitually asked ourselves “who belongs?”

atheists skipping over cracks, struggling to explain what’s and why’s to children not embarrassed that they’ll die with these questions, without the veil of ghost voices standing over them saying ‘because i said so’ fear flavored with fake sugar promises of gates we can’t all pass through

it’s just a phase

“they’ll” find god

gay lovers holding hands at ages younger than “they” think can understand what it means to be attracted to something you own, our procreation practice promise is superior

it’s just a phase

“they’re” just trying to shock us

black men clad in cumbersome pants hustling through frantic streets side-stepping their glance, a missed chance, averted eyes dig trenches, the ‘others’ ocular lens looking for a restaurant, that’s “worth the trip”

it’s just a phase

“we’ll” stay safe

mexican children running through fence lines, making good neighbors, how’d they get here? don’t you dare take what’s ‘ours’, scared and alone disheveled streets, scarred fields chemical laden waiting to be consumed, doing what no one wants

it’s just a phase

“we” need the help

continually asking, is this the ‘see something’ they said we should ‘say something’ about?

fear: separating migrant children from families

fear: separating mom and dad with alcohol and opioids to soften the blow of fear

fear: separating you to false god forgiveness for fear acted upon with a sneer

fear: separating you from me during sun-glow walks under orange and purple skies, seventy degrees, with a slight breeze, we could be gathering and discussing the tease ignorant assholes in alley way corners are trying to trick us with, and laugh them into the shadows with optimism’s promise, that we’re all in this

together

without fear

from bed, crossing property lines puts you in cages

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

kids in cages for crossing property lines

stay off his lawn, if you cross this figment of their imagination it threatens an insecurity born out of their disturbed, dirty, dead-soul mind-frame, and Gogol isn’t here to hold the mirror to the flaws you absorbed from enemies past

one time monsters are now what you hope to be

morph

are you afraid?

afraid, brown people will spill over to overthrow this overture to a symphony sewing discord, redirecting our friendship glances another distracted direction, wagner would be proud

waiting for your ovation

glimpses into the ebb and flow, of dots and nature’s boundary, needs you have down below, who am i to judge?

we froze the friends above, they used to be unthawed

so polite

i’m done listening, trying to understand

you don’t deserve the second hand that is heard clapping in forests alone where you’ve yet to tap natural nutrients to buy and sell for a single cell, there’s a cell in hell waiting to capture your lifeless soul you bought and sold for no more than the price of gold

they’re digging it up for you

stand still

wait here

we’ll come to you

from bed, hacking the breeze

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

relied upon institutions bastardized by a revolution of technology, masses conjure their imaginative egos pretending to have put in the time

fooling you, they’re real

discipline lost

paradise, long gone

sweet steven priest wrote a new song

i’m tricking myself that this poem, however long, contends with hughes, whitman, and what’s that haniel?

i belong

validation was cast in the lake of credentials, genuine appeal and voice discovered, developed and verified by the dirt under your nails, sunken eyes framed by the denial that everything is ok

prove myself

keep moving

they’re just as real

the words

i’m not the bash brothers containing my accomplishments with new blood juice, i’m letting loose the noose and finding an excuse to keep emitting emotion into an atmosphere of nobodies pressing ‘likes’, dismissing the possibility that i might have ‘something’ here

who wants to go first?

out on a limb

can’t cling to ironies ease, cackling, waiting for silence to assure you’re not alone when moments seized in the breeze of another’s sneeze and you said something

don’t bless me

dismiss me as a hack

why?

i don’t have a name?

selfish flying in internet space we ego-righteously claim it couldn’t be

just be

me

moving pictures of animal interactions are easy to digest

i’ll keep making meals lactose thick

i want you to hear me when i come out

influenced

contemplating a new page in this digital age, no one will define good for you

unless you join their monthly club

you made your box

now die in it

from a chair, inhaling the last of your stare

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

drenched in her tears i stepped into the hallway shared by all the other fourth floor door dwellers stinking of fried chicken, body fetor, and incense

none of which were winning the odor war, an amalgamation of whiffs running wildly through our rooms

all but tuna

tuna sat in the corner waiting for the stench to reach its threshold

then, without hesitation, he’d zoom center stage through draft ways and air vents

nobody welcomed him

he wafted alone through bed sheets and hanging drapes, living in garbage bin tossed tin can creases

festering in mouth corners

absorbed in crumbly crusts left on plates for tomorrow’s cleaning

blasting our senses, giving way to other impressions

biding time

for the next unleashing

resting on your breathe

before the door shut, i turned around and took my final look

sorry for the last time

if i could click my heels i’d be back with her

the her before her, that’s right before you

for years i penetrated the aura swirling around

thinking i could make a new sound pound from the ground you stood on and around

i’ve learned

nothing’s wasted

if we walk away with something

it’s my turn

i’ll dry my shoulders

lift off your weight

make my way down the hall

it’s never too late

to inhale the sweet smell of something new

from a stool, hours early

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

i’m the drone picking up the phone, listening to thoughts alone, without a deafening end-of-the-road dial tone

give this dog a bone

i’m going home

to encounter memories with drawn on faces

catching up to residual synthetic traces of time left behind

hit the rewind and scroll

i’m going for a stroll with the one i extol for lending an ear to my pulse rising pedantic platitudes piling up to nesting bird’s homes as they ready to relocate with weather’s winds

shifting

i’m staying here

come on in

i’m alone on my couch

catching up with the contoured creases that comfort me as i stare into this rectangular glow

reaching out

pretending you’re all with me

sit close

let’s make this real

temptation will steal away thoughts that make this deal worth taking

grab me

shake these pebble demons from my troubled mind

help me move on

away from you

solitude