Seated at an overcrowded bar
drinking an overpriced beer
mind overstimulated
body not at all relaxed
grasping for vocabulary
that is not overused
failing
staring
at the table next to me
eavesdropping
on a conversation
hoping
they’ll say something
more interesting
than what I’m thinking
dressed for mediocrity
but I’m trying a new dish on the menu
that is so not like me
I remember watching
sci-fi with Dad
X-Files, Quantum Leap
and mysteries unsolved
now he reads
nothing but nonfiction
all grown up, I still find escape
through fantasy & poetry
I wonder how much I will change
in 30 years
Today I will:
brush my teeth
with my left hand;
take an undiscovered
route to work;
walk a different sidewalk;
visit a store
that I have no business
being in;
try a strange new food
and like it;
learn to pronounce
a foreign word;
talk to a stranger;
pick up trash on a street
adjacent to my own;
volunteer at a soup kitchen
or at my son’s school;
write a letter
no one will read;
paint a picture
or plunge my hands
in wet clay;
log out of Facebook;
play hookie;
and photograph ghosts.
Today I will stare at the sun.
Nothing
interesting
to write about today;
guess I’ll settle for another
cinquain
Disastrous paths
weaving into a
Starry Night
a rough draft
of perfection
I am not asking
for approval
or a grain
of validation
everything
is as it should be
color, minutiae
I am critically
ungiving of a fuck
don’t need mud-sling
recognition
a dime for time unwinding
in a fine line
perfection
perfection is perforated
there are holes
in every fucking thing
living, nonliving
so stop looking for the sutures
Looking for the truth
behind cork
and message boards
The weight of
first impressions
return on
investment
the cleanliness
of conscience
the contentedness
of heart
these things
have me reeling
on a cold & rainy morning
Yard work,
pizza and beer,
kids riding bicycles,
netflix; all in all, a perfect
weekend
Check out Bard Publishing’s poetry blog and soon-to-be-released “Indecent Vol. 1” zine, for which the eds. have selected a few of my words. Good stuff! Give ’em a follow.
These words
have failed
to contain
the very
essence of me
deep down
beyond the pain
marrow
& twisted entrails
these words
are useless
they serve
no purpose
these words
impossible
to convey
yet they
intrinsically
define me
This is one of three poems by Steve Shultz that are in Indecent Volume 1! Thanks Steve!
Deputized inertia
eavesdropping
on a stagnant stalwart
waiting in lie
nostrils filled with dirt
stealing the warmth of others
when everything’s cold
everything’s dead and cold
putting up fences
just to mend them
looking for soul
couple miles down the road
four-car pileup
inhibitions
pooling on the blacktop
agreeing to a degree
of surrender
FM Ghost 