Conspire

Friends,
how I have taken
you for granted
in my quest
unknown to be alone

let me bend my ear
to your story,
no more self-absorbed

let me learn
from your lesson
& share
my perspective

done destroying? let’s create

I don’t want to
do this on my own
fuck this jest
to be alone

doors open
no longer close
no more smashed fingers
I got my finger on the pulse
and my foot in the fuckin jamb

done destroying/let’s create

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Fall Mist

May I present to you Fall Mist, a collaborative song helmed by the very talented JohnnyOsi. The song includes some spoken word poetry by me.

Full credits:

Upright Bass / Rhodes – David Thomas Bailey

Flute – Douglas Blease

Spoken Word – Steve Shultz

Rapidy Raps / Production / Etc – JohnnyOsi

Live instruments recorded at Uneven Studios

Hear (and read) more from JohnnyOsi at johnnyosi.com.

Verse I (JohnnyOsi):
Heartless mechanics prodded by a mouse click
Screaming through air, silent
Can you imagine the terror
When destruction can fall from the clouds
With no warning, no notice
Just sliver of hope in
A corporal with Carpel Tunnel syndrome
Who never has to look you in the eye
Or calculate the effect on those you left behind
I Hope he got his math right and didn’t miss a whisper in his ear
Telling him to pull back cause we got the wrong dossier
But even with the right one
Even if you got the guy you meant to steal the light from
Even if you happened to miss the kids playing ball right beside him
Without a proper trial it’s still fucking murder
And even then
It’s still fucking murder

Verse II (Steve Shultz):
Inflatable raft
filled with air from exhausted lungs
holes patched with chewing gum
smashing turtle shells
against salt water dreams
trying to get at the meat inside

origami toothpick
picking at cavities
and rotting things
stuck between
here and there
drinking kings bath water

who’s gonna bail out our boat?
folder paper that it is
fashion unfashionable hat
for this bitter day
watch the leaves fall
like so many regrets

Verse III (JohnnyOsi):
Yes, more than mere speculation
many a machination are forming in this waste nation
Pull the country over, it’s time we had a talk
There’s 545 people responsible for all
Our woes
A colossal collection of rotting ass folds
Perched upon hill
With our voice box vibrating between their thighs
Their getting off on vox populi
(you lie, you lie)
We got these neat little boxes that do math really fast
We could count every vote on every issue
Don’t you wish you could put two cents in on some relevant shit

Our Constitution was draft
before the Telegraph the Telephone the Teletubbies
Twitter was a carrier pigeon
communication en masse didn’t exist
But it does now, So
You corporate campaign motherfuckin clowns
Are free to go.

Verse IV (Steve Shultz):
Thirst for blood
vs.
hunger for peace

Majority
easily
reached

I am
becoming
desensitized
to the tragedies
enacted, broadcasted.
violence nests in the vessel
of our hearts and minds; dormant.
guns, knives, bombs, steady hands;
our species is doomed.
(numb) I can no
longer pray
or cry.

I stand in the newsroom
as we celebrate
a Pulitzer
care of a theater shooting
in Aurora
simultaneously, we watch
as footage from Boston
rolls in

We live in a place
unsafe
growing more afraid
to face

I don’t want to go outside
today
elsewhere, others locked down

I am watching my steps
and the steps
of my children
on the lookout for fear

death lurks
but if all I do is spend my time
looking for the corners,
I won’t see convergence

it’s hard
it gets harder

are these eyes blurry, or is the beacon gone?

(who’s gonna bail out our boat?
folder paper that it is)

Cloth

Tear me
from your very fabric
I’d choose new shoes
A fashion,
passion
of my very own

then I will hate you
when my clothes don’t fit
or when people
point & laugh
At the discount rack
because
I can’t afford to be
a real boy

toy with manufacturer’s
batteries gone dead
dripping acid upon
hands
irresponsible

unresponsive cloth
to mop up
lifetimes
of spilled milk

Subsisting Digits

I am hacking off my fingers & thumbs,
extremities of

avarice,
self-doubt,
ill-will,
indifference,
worry,

severing subsisting digits
of

distraction,
complacency,
arrogance,
negativity,
fear.

Not so that I may no longer
form fists,

but rather that I may let go
of these hands
holding me back. And down.

FM Ghost [the book]

Dear friends and readers, I am beyond thrilled to announce the publication of my first book of poetry, FM Ghost. The paperback is available now via ALL CAPS PUBLISHING. Order your copy here.

Most of you are by now familiar with the tone and style of my writing, but here is a preview of the book: “FM Ghost is a poetic journey of self-discovery and self-acceptance. With a heavy theme of mortality, this debut collection by Denver poet Steve Shultz is both introspective and observational. The book’s three sections – Within, Without, and Within (revisited) – explore themes of darkness and light, love and fear, hope and despair, grief and joy, life and death. FM Ghost is about striking a balance in a world of opposites.”

FM Ghost

I’d like to give a huge thank you to Marian at ALL CAPS for having me aboard. Here’s what she has to say about FM Ghost: “ALL CAPS is beyond pleased to announce the publication of FM Ghost, a substantial (despite its title, heh) poetry collection from rock-star poet and journalist Steve Shultz. please join us in congratulating Steve by clicking and picking up your copy. if it helps, reading Steve’s poems totally ups your coolness factor. check it out!” You can read more from Marian at Runaway Sentence.

Thanks for reading!