Tag Archives: prose

18 days

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all that is left
are the small things in my memory:
i remember you smiling
but that is all,
and i remember you smiling
but not very much.
i said hello,
you said give me some time.

Copyright 2016 Golden Star Poetry

Stream of Consciousness 19: Pardon my French

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Pastry where’s the thinking you eat chocolate like there’s no tomorrow
Wendy’s eaten three hamburgers this week my mouthful is stuffed where’s chicken where’s the turnkey I’m eating from sandwiches every day where’s pasta where’s lasagna where’s my mother’s baked goods

I miss the sky I miss crying I miss dying or wanting to feel like sh– where’s the pasta where’s mamma where’s tangos and having s– in the garden where’s my meals where’s the oregano where’s your hands on me where’s the lipstick I asked for where’s your angles sides on me and I’m probably going to throw up and these books list things like a laundry all the things you f——saw in Paris we don’t give a f— he says f— every other sentence and I thought he was a real weirdo he plays video games and curses three times a sentence but he’s good looking and he does accents what the fuck and he’s–

here’s to being single ha we’re only just five years older than five years ago that was when I dreamed about everything I was so f—— hopeful and where’s the glory in being single the easy self-gratification self-gratification my ass my ass can tell you we’re all going to hell, and there’s zero tolerance policy around here mister I hate to have to haze you but there are certain rules you do not break and Antoinette has better yet to come and eat and serve the meals get to it hup hup and old men on the f——bus It’s disgusting get some f—— manners, and he’s on the train he’s always on the f—— train get off already

Unusual Grammar

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(kjasdkfjas;kdfrt8udofafff0oonepakfn) speak to me

(oifbn3pikeakmdnnbbfjuiia fuineamdnagf ap[o3elskdb) out of context

(lknnnneksnaokkdrjuposmngakjfnepsklepj) so they can never know

(sidfeoakcmvniu 4r yppphphhjhjeanfk,fmsdkjrfnrg) what we are saying.

(fogjgpwsmaswitpa,vnvprfororof,f nrprfek,cvofjwnsdplfv\) otherwise 

(dflfgr0y06 ,smnvosfkn[spgksd.of[speincvkrkip;dl,mripw;llllfieklmjgs) it’s not a challange;

(dpfklmjdkngwoufhwlmanru wjuadkisfba shqjsdh a dfapsidfhnds) it’s not a mystery

(asdpfkasjfq orihghhrurnhsp;mnb nuirfjngorjdmsklchemdl) and we run over and over

(dsuebpadsjlsdkgntwusdfkswuadlsfjas eitwhwpwkfajh) the same tame words:

(sdfsdehpskfjeiskfmfjfjfjrpa oiwrjwpefkljsd asijwokidnfpoa fso) for i  always preferred the 

(aksdfhnasdfapsdfjpwknlsn apkgwna ufapwnjpashnldf op) thousand intricate rules

(asldkfjasdfueapdsfihaw dsfhaweorkf  ieheo adsjfoaw pwkfsn) of my own unusual grammar.

(asdreighhckghntfjrfjurepoen fdsorwjdfe peoewjurjfhjg dejcjcjcdeo) tell me,

(fsp;threouh rurhrri rolkn urhntrl lkdfjkd sdk) unusually learned soul,

(sdfkjhsdfoauwr4ewgngkty hitkrkrkr foddo) wherever did you study?

The Samuels Family Leave for California at 11 AM on a Sunday Morning While the Sky Shone only in the Imagination of the Young

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 A dust bowl poem I wrote for a school project, based off of The Grapes of Wrath

It was breakfast time and the porridge was piping hot.
At the table I dug my hands into my pockets an’ pulled out the dime I got from
Selling my old stuffed bear (his name is Franklin),
An’ I said hey Ma look what I got for my bear but she wasn’t listenin’,
She was pacin’ around the house lookin’ real worn an’ scairt an’ her face creased
An’ I could even smell the worry comin’ offa her face so I
Shut myself up an’ stared at the floorboards.

I don’t know what I’m gonna do but Sissy says we’re s’pose to pile up into that ole
Model T Pap usta drive us around in, goin’ around in crazy circles,
Kicking up the dust. Says we gonna go a million miles, like it’s a race,
Like it’s the derby, till we collapse.
I drew circles around in the dirt on the floor to pass the time,
With my toes dirty like White turnips straight out of the soil.
(I don wanna b’lieve her, but Ma says its true.)

It was breakfast time and my porridge was gettin’ cold, but I couldn’t eat none,
So I fed it to the dog, an’ Ma said I was bein’ plum crazy for
Givin’ away food like that to ‘im, said we’ve got millions of miles ‘head of us an’ You ain’t even wanna eat ‘fore ya go! Said it’s shameful, an’ ain’t you hungry?
But I couldn’t tell her that no matter how much the hunger gnawed away at my insides,
The thought of me leavin’ home made it all the worser.

So I put my hand on my mouth an’ I run out to the front steps an’ I
Puked on them, an’ Ma said Jezus Filbert an’ what we gon’ do ‘bout you?
An’ she put her hand to her forehead like she was ‘bout to faint an’ we
Got her back inside like we always done an’ fanned her face an’ give her some
Water till her cheeks weren’t so shiny an’ her eyes weren’t so glassy.

When she stood back up again she shooed us offa her an’ tol’ us to get goin’, so we
Piled up the things to put inta the car an’ I could nary hold onta the chairs
But I done it, I done it for Ma an’ she had a look in her eye like she could
Do anything she set her mind to,
An’ me Sissy and Vivian all walked out of the house an’ stepped into the sunlight.

Copyright 2016 Golden Star Poetry

Stream of Consciousness #18

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fate put us together

but he’s still roping the rigs

besides between you and him you know you hate him

the sound of the bathwater the sound of the bath

the sound of the smacking lips the sound of tasting

the sound of everything around him the sound of

cold mountain roads or the highway nothing is real nothing is what it seems he told you

that two years ago two years ago you were in pain now you feel no pain you only feel that

you used to feel pain there is no difference between what he says and what he does it’s

the same thing he’s just here for shows and smiles and you’re the one who does the

talking the floors are all covered with soot, someone’s been smoking someone’s been

sleeping someone left there heart here someone left their liver someone left their small

intestines you’d better pick that up soon mom’s coming you’d better do it hun, all

condescending like that there’s a turnpike but you take it against your better judgement

because all he did was nod and say go there and you were only on the road because the

animals fought there he is in captivity

X X X X X

mush milk maybe he’s just calming down

i miss the days when i was still in magic, when i could hold him in the palm of my hand

and he held me by the palm of my back and it was wholesome and real and i could smell

the nights in the distance and not be afraid or ashamed or sad or upset just real feelings

real good feelings or the feeling of riding down the road without caring without giving a

damn black leather jackets picturesque you’re smiling there is a whole fleet of ciggarettes

there is a whole fleet of automobiles get in we’re going fast

x x x x x

and the start of something new you said

going boldly that’s the statement on a limb again who is the next one

who’s the next to fixate who’s my next target where do i go

why am i stranded is there any escape do i end up making it what does my

self say five years down the road does she just smile sort of or does she think a long time

is she lost in thought i hope not because that would mean she was still thinking about it

how absurd im almost done finished thinking im almost done finished with it altogether

save me jim im dying

Infancy Crib

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I’m taken
to the womb
(as they say)
when embalmed
and entoumbed
by that
smile
o
yours.

someone
tells me
they
“come less
threatening
in packages
that resemble your infancy crib”
so I
laugh it off
and I shrug
like it’s nothing
i can really hold
but i know,
it’s really all down to
genetics, thousands of years old.

Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry

Mind to Mind, Eye to Eye

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mind to mind, eye to eye
whats the difference nowadays?

he took her to see the buildings
he took her to see the farmlands
he led her across the library
he took her to see a lecture
he took her to survey the wildlife
he took her to see the hubble

mind to mind, eye to eye
we saw everything the same way!
same glasses, same books,
we had a share of cocky looks we had a
basement full of words we had a
chock full of absurds
we were
just barely skimming the surface (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

you really think you have the authority to guess my age, to get in a rage, over what is right and what is wrong and who goes where

I told him I was small, I told him that the linguistics made it impossible to soften the blow, but the old age was going to show if i didn’t make the right impression, and i was down on my luck that day. i told him that we would always see mind to mind, eye to eye, I told him love at first sight was impossible he said statistically that’s correct and so we had fun and it was goodbye

Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry