Honorific Negativity

So much complaining
I don’t want to live my life
that way
and I ain’t perfect
never claimed to be
but I prefer to revel
in this splendid shade of red,
to own this bloodshed

I would rather see
the good
in substandard social circles
I want to see the light
creeping through your dark
side, cracks
in your fierce exterior
I want to believe

there is a good seed encapsulated
in
that sadness
alas,
an observer has no control
but to ignore and purge,
set fire to your looming shadow
I don’t want it following me around.

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Shallowing

Divert
this hunger,
hurt

skirt death

I’m rich in play money,
shallowing breath

revert
this wretched,
worth

less the sum
and
halve the whole

I’m poor in passion play

pundit
profundity,
let me go

Smile

I’m good.
I’m in a deeply
contemplative mood.
Aloof.
Plotting my next move.
Looking back,
in light not black.

Thanks for asking.

Of Geese and Kids

10 a.m., neighborhood park
I was watching geese
because I was tired of people

then a minivan pulled up,
let out 3 kids
yelling, dispersing the flock

like a shotgun blast,
and I ducked
near a tree, covering my head

Before I Die

© Steve Shultz 2013

Singsong

Heartstrings
plucking
a muddy mandolin song

vibrating, waiting for a true ear

Shower and a Shave

Right now I am
a backwards snake
shedding negativity
like nail clippings
and dead hair.

I stand showering
in the warmth
and steam,
watching dirt
dance clockwise
down the drain
like a drowned spider
who thought
he had a chance to climb
this obscenity spout.

Couch Potato Architect

Any day mo(u)rning I sit,
listen to the sound of static saccharine
steady, rocking myself to sleep
on this old claustrophobic couch

and as I shut myself up inside, I deny

setbacks sink into c(l)ogged machinery
like circulated coins in saggy cushions,
a cold quarter looking for a 1-up,
another chance to play this arcade game

and as I reach deep down inside, I realize

my powdery hands are dry vines (divine)
and I want to pick forbidden fruit,
gather berries from a fuzzy memory
from the capital of these nerve endings

and I architect my demise/revival at the time deep down I know is right

 

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This poem was penned for dVerse Poets Pub’s Poetics: InterActions poetry prompt, hosted by Brian Miller and Gretchen Leary. I decided to go with Brian’s prompt, which is to basically play Mad Libs. Brain suggested asking someone to offer up 2 nouns, 3 verbs, 3 adjectives and 2 random words, then write a poem including/based on those words. My wife gave me the following words: capital, couch, play, sleep, listen, fuzzy, old, powdery, machinery and sink.

Dinner Date

An able body,
fickle mind

a table set for 2

ambience, tense
tenacity terse

a rehearsal dinner
in which
forks & knives fly

white-shirt synapses
red wine-stained misunderstandings

Star Glitter

Pretty packaging;
abandoning what’s inside,
kids know how to play

 

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub’s Saturday prompt, An Evening of Short Verse, hosted by Fred.