Gawking passersby
jumping banisters
to conclusions
front-row seat
to shattered-glass show
placing under-breath bets
as to how crumpled steel box
went airborne
landed on passenger’s side
trapping one inside
intent to document
but camera’s hand froze
when they pulled driver free
limp & lifeless
show’s over folks
nothing to see here
go back to your regularly
scheduled programming
will have to check the lunchtime news
reports to see if we made it
© Copyright Steve Shultz. All rights reserved.
I.
Bang bang cataclysmic drain
got change on the brain
but no boat ever goes to sea and comes back un-crabbed
unchain these hinges of inhibition
modify modus operandi
life’s great mystery
why we do things we do and wish away the things we don’t
it’s all so wont and wanton like letting go at luncheon
or company function
screaming obscenities in the most serene of places
children’s faces pallid
why did we ever come here – to be free? Laughter is free
So are trees swaying in one spot watching us
like an uninteresting peep show shedding leaves
instead of dollar bills
such a respectable profession
concessions and confessions through a two-way mirror
cracked with fatigue and dagger thoughts
can’t control these jagged thoughts and wants
I’ll take a shot of proclivity any day of the week
and chase it with cold mountain air as I stare
through those eyes across the room of some dimly lit dive downtown
Who are we to smudge away one’s individual grease marks and warpaint
remove nail polish gender neutered for public reception
tossing fossilized spirits in trash receptacle
burn after treading water drowning in unanswered artful dodges
so skilled the sword to saunter off our ears and eyes but leaving flicking tongue unscathed.
II.
Sometimes we get used to burnt toast and no butter
and dribbled splattered toilet seats left up or down
oh what’s your preference what’s your poison what’s your ilk
we traded perfect wings for impersonal perfection
infectious waste disease and death
how we forget and how we remember to purposefully forget
and push away those old picture frames on dusty altar
we falter yes but we also find a way to fill our great balloon
with hot air and rise above beyond occasion and horizon
one day this rollercoaster car will fly right off the fuckin tracks and pierce clouds
like awkward bullets and shoot through ozone and ether and planetary lapses of reason
but who holds the gun who holds the key to cabinet locked away inside
that pretty gray brain matter.
III.
Leave me to these thoughts and I’ll leave you to your robotic nuances
looking for a new power source frack the sacred burial grounds
in pursuit of longevity
it’s all about the size isn’t it who has the biggest dipstick straw
to steal the show milkshakes and earthquakes surviving on the rim
of civilization with no climbing gear
relax you can’t fall off this mountain
all is so uncertain but please just bear with me while I figure
out the wiring and find some AAA batteries
coppertop copperhead copper dollars copper teeth
lithium lifestyle enhanced by sedatives
choking on vulgarities from some old sailor’s spit
spiced rum infused visions of Cthulhu
I have seen him yes I have.
I’m happy I really am
I just like to use dark
verbs and adjectives
to describe my mind
like bones snapping
can sound percussive
and gnarled knuckles
still hope to shake
seriously though
I am no tortured soul
it’s not like I’m chained
in some prison camp
and my loved ones’
hearts beat true
and my parents love me
never did beat me
I just find beauty in dirt clods
and rain clouds ready to burst
but I ask for no one to suffer
for my quick quips
why should anyone be handicapped
for me to scribble a few cool
sounding witticisms
it’s not just, this world spins right
but really you don’t need to worry bout me
I’m doing fine scraping up pennies
for liquor store extravagances
choosing cheapest tastes for my pain
lies sub-dermal never itching to the surface
besides, appearances are so deceiving
rather you meet me in a dark alley
and really smell the truth seep through
sometimes mind
vibrates harmonious
other times so
lachrymose
a moistened towelette
mopping up rejected
verbs at multiplex
exhausted from keep
on keepin on
sometimes this ride
needs stick in
bicycle spokes
to change up revolution
need more able bodies
to hold up mastered minds
wasted cells regenerate
memory’s munitions
blast me to a perfect
past
snorting sunshine
through a rolled up
play dollar bill
rocked backed to
the present with
nose dripping blood
on tablet screen
we all scream for
extremes
I take moderation
in moderation
you only live once
that’s what they say
before reborn
tabula rasa
new diapers to dirty
but hey not everything
is ugly like mouthful
of pink birthday cake
chewed up and spit back out
try to have a little fun
lighten up put down
the lighter fluid
burning charred marks of
gloom and doom
try a different brush
stroke that capsized boat
do something about that negative
shock like a joker’s handshake
put back the pin
in self’s grenade
I hereby state
no desire to
copy & paste my fate
***************************************************************
Posted for dVerse Poetry Pub’s Stream of Consciousness meeting the bar poetry prompt, hosted by Victoria C. Slotto.
You say you’re happy in your misery
gleefully knocking back drinks
and palmed pills like breath mints
disregarding car crash mentality
living day-to-day like fatal tomorrows
you say you’re laughing on the inside
black as tumor’s last dying breath
what’s so funny about cease and desist
resisting humor in human suffering
off-color comments bring color to pale cheeks
you say you’re miserable like a smile
won’t wake you up from televised coma
flowers make you sneeze big brains out
coughing carcinogenic thoughts while
scholarly go-getters think they’re catching on
I say we’re all too lazy to take up knapsack
and meditate under pine trees like Kerouac
soft straw is splinters in our paws
because basically our instincts are animal
and we’d rather put each other’s heads in mouths
I say happiness is ignorance is bliss is hell
is heaven — find me in the middle, silent
but full of thoughts — mind going a million
miles an hour in a liquor store just staring
at too many choices to simply get fucked up
I say you’re just like me and I am you
yet we can never seem to agree on any thing
especially the fact that our teeth and nails
in throat are made of the same bone
at least we can see what small things we aim to be
can we all just relieve ourselves of pre-judgment
color and religion and sexual identification
pontification, gold chains and diamond studded teeth
toys with batteries and radiated protein
can’t we all just chew our own fat and digress
can’t we all relax ourselves into
one big pharmaceutical sleeping bag
camp out under a shared mind of stars
find out our fears and insecurities
and bathe in them with pinch of salt
can we all just for once say one goddamn
thing in unison, in person, face-to-face to face
give our old books to new friends we meet
give second sandwiches to street believers
and open up our switchblade hearts to peaceful thoughts
Photo by Steve Shultz, courtesy The Denver Post
City council meetings
are boring.
I hated writing
about water issues
and prairie dogs,
HOA eyesores
and most things
weekly newspaper-
worthy.
One of the coolest things
I ever covered for the news
was a wild rumpus –
a party for the long-awaited
cinematic adaptation of
Where The Wild Things Are.
Now how cool is that?
Instead of writing about
murders and destroyers
of children’s dreams,
I was right there in the middle
of a childhood classic
come to life.
Snapping pictures
of young Maxes
and Wild Things
asking moms and kids
just what’s so magical
about Maurice Sendak’s
340-word book.
How it could remain
a staple for nearly
five decades.
And then I met a mom
who named her son Max
after the protagonist
and I realized what an effect
great works can really have.
And I saw the movie
and I thought it was dark –
and I like dark.
To make a 90-minute film
from a 37-page book
is quite an achievement.
And Spike Jonze is a hero
from a different era…
(Sabotage, MCA, another hero gone)
“Digital first” is the
new media mantra
but long after the local
newspaper shuts down
books will live on
when the kindle’s battery dies.
Here’s to mischief of one kind and another.
Posted for dVerse Poetry Pub’s Maurice Sendak prompt.
Close the file on me
glue the binding
wrap a cord
around my
neck intentions
cannot hide
my elation
at your
prostration
write a book
about losing
momentum
releasing
captured subjects
no one gives a fuck
a jelly doughnut
don’t fly
so clip your nails
like very best
and save them in
a Bell jar
make jelly/jam from
my mistakes
and butter
burnt toast
scrape off my misfortunes
in kitchen sink
full of dirtied dishes
no one wants to wash
but they all sure do like to eat
lift the lid off me
I have things that need
revealing
you may not like what’s
stuck to my ribs
but it sure tastes good
on the fire pit
straight off the grill
skewer me with
rusted barbs
but say hello
before you burn
your mouth.
Wanting
change but doing
nothing to attain it
mouth full of teeth with cavities
— no bite
Decry
change yet complain
every day is the same
mind full of broken clock hands keep
no time
Same hate colors
same hate font
different tinted glasses
lens for hateful eyes
penciling same picture
with different shades of hate
magic text taken out of context
hate passed on with spoons & fists
what the man is preaching
same old sermon: hate.
FM Ghost 