Submissions by mbass33 (matthew bass)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I am a Weeds poet first and foremost and will be one till death.
3:30 A.M.
I caught the train to the airport
out of a place asphyxiated
below tenemants
where
the rubbish and unwanted
are just the same
on a cold
cold morning, the coldest I'd known
in a long
long time. The kind of cold
that tears the soul
like a gunshot in silence.
The kind of cold that hollows us
like the half-empty train cars
we ride
without expression
they rumble into the January onslaught.
The pre-dawn sky, a blue
from the...
out of a place asphyxiated
below tenemants
where
the rubbish and unwanted
are just the same
on a cold
cold morning, the coldest I'd known
in a long
long time. The kind of cold
that tears the soul
like a gunshot in silence.
The kind of cold that hollows us
like the half-empty train cars
we ride
without expression
they rumble into the January onslaught.
The pre-dawn sky, a blue
from the...
830 reads
8 Comments
Prayer No. 01
With a humble heart
With money and liquor
With tobacco and candle:
Good health, prosperity, and blessings
to my mothers
to my fathers
to my sisters
to my brothers
to my aunts
to my uncles
to my nephews
to my neices
to my cousins
to my friends
to their dreams aspirations and intentions,
to be true, to be complete
to be footed to a foudation
to touch the earth with
to celebrate life
to create abundance
with purpose diligence and usefulness
with dreams intentions and aspirations.
With money and liquor
With tobacco and candle:
Good health, prosperity, and blessings
to my mothers
to my fathers
to my sisters
to my brothers
to my aunts
to my uncles
to my nephews
to my neices
to my cousins
to my friends
to their dreams aspirations and intentions,
to be true, to be complete
to be footed to a foudation
to touch the earth with
to celebrate life
to create abundance
with purpose diligence and usefulness
with dreams intentions and aspirations.
693 reads
1 Comment
Waterfall
I am always wet, baptized
by buckets of water cascading down my back.
I am always surrounded by hills, hugged
by earth mother laying on her back,
hilltops pointing up like erect nipples.
I can almost run my hands along
the cleavage of her slopes.
I am always seeing panoramas of you:
Your long black hair running along
your stout body in high heels
slipping and splashing in the water
clacking against the cement.
I am always dancing:
In the rain, in the hills, on the streets
baptized by buckets of water
from the sidewalk,...
by buckets of water cascading down my back.
I am always surrounded by hills, hugged
by earth mother laying on her back,
hilltops pointing up like erect nipples.
I can almost run my hands along
the cleavage of her slopes.
I am always seeing panoramas of you:
Your long black hair running along
your stout body in high heels
slipping and splashing in the water
clacking against the cement.
I am always dancing:
In the rain, in the hills, on the streets
baptized by buckets of water
from the sidewalk,...
739 reads
3 Comments
On The Cusp Of Quito
Clouds roll over the hilltops.
City lights dot the valley.
The music, the traffic whistles,
the sounds of children playing,
dogs speaking between car horns,
the smells of hole in the wall cafes,
all move at a walking pace.
I am from nowhere, not here,
admiring the city lights, alone,
broke, alive, looking for something
I could never describe in a poem.
City lights dot the valley.
The music, the traffic whistles,
the sounds of children playing,
dogs speaking between car horns,
the smells of hole in the wall cafes,
all move at a walking pace.
I am from nowhere, not here,
admiring the city lights, alone,
broke, alive, looking for something
I could never describe in a poem.
620 reads
2 Comments
Somewhere Outside Of San Antonio
I had a conversation with Sanchez
about many things, many themes,
but mostly about memories
I didn't know that I had a long time ago.
Operations, inept officers, dead friends
that suddenly had names to go along
with newly remembered faces.
"We were an elite unit, all the things
we did. Things most people could never
understand"
Over and over he kept repeating it
and I couldn't help but feel special,
until I remembered that we were
rifleman like all...
about many things, many themes,
but mostly about memories
I didn't know that I had a long time ago.
Operations, inept officers, dead friends
that suddenly had names to go along
with newly remembered faces.
"We were an elite unit, all the things
we did. Things most people could never
understand"
Over and over he kept repeating it
and I couldn't help but feel special,
until I remembered that we were
rifleman like all...
649 reads
5 Comments
We Once Sung The Same Melody
The smell of your hair
The color of your lipstick
The exposed soft lips of your half-smile,
they mark the path of travel from the living room
to the bed, like our record collection on the floor.
When we wake up, we'll pick up everything
before it's stepped on and ruined
wait for another night
to make love the way we once listened to music.
The color of your lipstick
The exposed soft lips of your half-smile,
they mark the path of travel from the living room
to the bed, like our record collection on the floor.
When we wake up, we'll pick up everything
before it's stepped on and ruined
wait for another night
to make love the way we once listened to music.
627 reads
2 Comments
Drop The Scull
I woke up three days ago
with thousands of
w i t h k n
r s s a n g words
ripping ((a p a r t))
to the steady drumbeat
of a free-fa
l
l
i
n
g
e
c
o
n
o
m
y
,humming "I Hope I Don't Fall In Love With You"
which ...
with thousands of
w i t h k n
r s s a n g words
ripping ((a p a r t))
to the steady drumbeat
of a free-fa
l
l
i
n
g
e
c
o
n
o
m
y
,humming "I Hope I Don't Fall In Love With You"
which ...
659 reads
5 Comments
Your Reflection In My Cup Of Coffee
I gently mix the milk into the coffee.
The contour of your silhouette rolls in fluid darkness,
a soft brown image melting into my thoughts.
The warmth of your hands sends gentle charges
down my spine with sweet aroma,
My eyes open with the first sip, your morning kiss
I savor.
Your fingers tightly inch past my wrist,
the hair on my forearm stands on edge.
My fingers squeeze the cup a little bit harder then I come
to the awareness
of a bustling café
that pales in comparison
to the reflection of you...
The contour of your silhouette rolls in fluid darkness,
a soft brown image melting into my thoughts.
The warmth of your hands sends gentle charges
down my spine with sweet aroma,
My eyes open with the first sip, your morning kiss
I savor.
Your fingers tightly inch past my wrist,
the hair on my forearm stands on edge.
My fingers squeeze the cup a little bit harder then I come
to the awareness
of a bustling café
that pales in comparison
to the reflection of you...
661 reads
11 Comments
On Love And Gentrification
The Chicago river isn't beautiful but outdoor balconies are. People will give everything for river views.
Real estate investors call this "potential", a euphemism for making money; Green like nature.
"Potential" where others see industrial waste; Much like finding a spouse.
I could call you beautiful for wrong reasons
as in calling an outdoor balcony beautiful,
but the stench would still linger
and you'd hear it all the time.
There are only so many ways I can express it
before it becomes used up,
there are only...
Real estate investors call this "potential", a euphemism for making money; Green like nature.
"Potential" where others see industrial waste; Much like finding a spouse.
I could call you beautiful for wrong reasons
as in calling an outdoor balcony beautiful,
but the stench would still linger
and you'd hear it all the time.
There are only so many ways I can express it
before it becomes used up,
there are only...
768 reads
7 Comments
Over The Bridge
My eyes shut wide open,
cherry red light bulbs blink
with window taps and high heels-
I imagine what she will feel like
every time I penetrate her.
Its so hard! To speak
when your abdomen vibrates
more and more and more;
Each breath a waterfall.
I fall into her stagnant canal,
with a kiss behind closed curtains
as the old men walk in
for their morning pick-me-up
and old ladies wait for the prose
I'll never give.
cherry red light bulbs blink
with window taps and high heels-
I imagine what she will feel like
every time I penetrate her.
Its so hard! To speak
when your abdomen vibrates
more and more and more;
Each breath a waterfall.
I fall into her stagnant canal,
with a kiss behind closed curtains
as the old men walk in
for their morning pick-me-up
and old ladies wait for the prose
I'll never give.
738 reads
2 Comments
Midnight Run On A Black Line
..The taller the mountain
the higher the smoke climbs...
A light flickers
from a bus station bar,
drunks pace
from one corner to the other-
curse the bus-Delayed.
Cheap smiles, early morning smokes
tired men and young girls stuff tapas
down their throats
Kings and Queens
of a forgotten lot. Anxious
for the signal
to release the hatch
to take them to their
end destinations.
Near Oviedo
a bus is burning
soon enough it will
turn to placid ash
without much of a reaction.
the higher the smoke climbs...
A light flickers
from a bus station bar,
drunks pace
from one corner to the other-
curse the bus-Delayed.
Cheap smiles, early morning smokes
tired men and young girls stuff tapas
down their throats
Kings and Queens
of a forgotten lot. Anxious
for the signal
to release the hatch
to take them to their
end destinations.
Near Oviedo
a bus is burning
soon enough it will
turn to placid ash
without much of a reaction.
691 reads
2 Comments
IF This Is It
We sit
together,
you in my arms.
I twist my fingers
through your beautiful
Indian fingers,
your body warm
next to mine.
You sing like you did
in the French hotel,
glasses of rose
left on the table
for posterity
And
I feel
only
space
between us.
(I wake up)
I listen, ignore you
answer half-awake
"yeah, uh huh"
I know I am already too late.
The cops are at the front door
because love can linger on
much longer than it...
together,
you in my arms.
I twist my fingers
through your beautiful
Indian fingers,
your body warm
next to mine.
You sing like you did
in the French hotel,
glasses of rose
left on the table
for posterity
And
I feel
only
space
between us.
(I wake up)
I listen, ignore you
answer half-awake
"yeah, uh huh"
I know I am already too late.
The cops are at the front door
because love can linger on
much longer than it...
834 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by mbass33 (matthew bass)