Label Whore

Label Whore

_________________________________________________________________________

Please feel free to leave comments as feedback is always welcome; good and bad.


Thank you


SMG

Ladies Night at the Bauhaus

Ladies Night at the Bauhaus

The  forms of  these women  tend to
fail  the  function test but the aesth-
etics  and  hedonists  never  did  sit
together  in school I let Ezra pound
modernism  into  my  brain  until  I
questioned everything I learned on
Sunday Kandinsky waxed  theosop-
hical while feverishly waving  a pro-
tractor and paintbrush  in the air of
post-war Germany’s zeitgeist ornam-
entation gave way to the  functional
man  will  occasionally  impractically
fall for the aesthetic form of a woman
with no regard for the school to which
she belongs.

SMG

Click Clique Cliché

Click Clique Cliché

Right, left, double and drag
or is it cylinder and hammer?
Perhaps a door latch closing;
only the potential for pain
makes it a scary sound.

A group of individuals
(including you, excluding me)
which is used as a standard by which
to (speciously) evaluate
attitudes (clothes),
abilities (looks),
or current situations (money).
As a reference group it can be
either normative (oppressive)
or comparative (judgmental).

With every fiber of my being,
I long to be with you again.
My heart aches and my soul cries out,
for I am nothing without you.

Left click drag,
highlight,
right click,
delete.

Hammer cock/
Cylinder rotate

*(Re-print from The (&) Ampersand Vol. III)

Search for Comparison

Search for Comparison

I can't find a metaphor
for life, love, hate or death,
a cab in the Manhattan rain,
or a cresting wave in Kansas.

I desperately need a metaphor
for lies and truths, wants and wishes,
a star for navigation through the night,
a thunderstorm on a sun parched face.

Tonight I crave a metaphor
for God and angels, for heaven or the cross,
like a starving man at a kitchen window
drooling over others' food in vain.

I haven't any left, no metaphors
no joy, only sadness, abandoned by my muse,
a fish flopping aimlessly in the sand,
a sorrowful dog standing on a country road.

Write Blocked

Write Blocked

The white screen
taunts me with
a cursor’s wink
while I drill holes
through my skull
in search of gold.

Twenty six
alpha bitches
make promises,
ask for shape
and definition;
instructions
not included.

I feel like
a middle class
needle romancer,
cruising Hunts Point,
in search of my next
opium love affair.

Thalia smiles
and assures me
that I hold the keys,
then giggles and winks
when I ask her
“to which door?”

SMG

My Life in Commercials

My Life in Commercials

Euell Gibbons was an idiot,
“some parts are edible” my ass!
These things we eat; pride,
shit and crow can grow inside
and go malignant while we sleep.

A new baby blue Hoodie-Footie
Snuggle Suit may keep me warm
as death takes one cell after another,
but there is no Magic Bullet
for those of us that pine alone
at night in the dark and dial
the New York Ladies chat line.

I ordered a can of expanding foam
from a Billy Mays TV commercial
because this gap in my chest
is becoming just a bit unmanageable.

SMG

The very talented Khakjaan Wessington ( @toylitpaper ) posted this link and I wanted to try the "News Poem" thing myself. Go read his Toylit Blog and see how it is supposed to be done.

Excruciating Atoms

Excruciating Atoms

I tried
to calculate
the weight of sorrow;
break it down
to its component parts.

Duplicate fermions
were assumed
to be irrelevant
based on Pauli’s spin.
Intrinsic angular
momentums
were observed
and each element
was cataloged
and classified.

Heartbreak (Hb7)
was a constant
as was Loss (Gn3)
and its partner
Pain (Ow4).

Each
excruciating atom
was taken into account
right down to the quark.

The final analysis
determined
that up and down,
charm and strange
failed to add up
to the collective mass
required to account
for this leaden feeling
in my chest.