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.
LOVE POEM
Published
5th Dec 2014 9:50pm
5th Dec 2014 9:50pm
Love Poems
We say (we like to think)...
until next time,
though a good-bye is a good-bye.
These silly attachments, they drive us
off cliffs:
In those critical moments we hesitate
before we jump with butterfly wings
into old love poems:
We absorb every bit of their grace,
a weight that now, only crushes
when they come to life again.
until next time,
though a good-bye is a good-bye.
These silly attachments, they drive us
off cliffs:
In those critical moments we hesitate
before we jump with butterfly wings
into old love poems:
We absorb every bit of their grace,
a weight that now, only crushes
when they come to life again.
873 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
3rd Dec 2014 9:44pm
3rd Dec 2014 9:44pm
Shoreline(Teetering The Edge)
Beneath the moon I breathe
the dripping-damp smell
of primordial jungle
on this untamed coast.
The night strangles my senses;
A never ending thought
I chase across borders.
I could be anything
(a hermit, a smuggler, a rebel, a free-spirit)
or another defeated dreamer
driven by an urge
I never grasp.
In time
I will always go
whether I choose a direction
or not...
...or maybe
the sea-salt erodes me
the rain forest swallows me
or I simply...
the dripping-damp smell
of primordial jungle
on this untamed coast.
The night strangles my senses;
A never ending thought
I chase across borders.
I could be anything
(a hermit, a smuggler, a rebel, a free-spirit)
or another defeated dreamer
driven by an urge
I never grasp.
In time
I will always go
whether I choose a direction
or not...
...or maybe
the sea-salt erodes me
the rain forest swallows me
or I simply...
1073 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
2nd Dec 2014 9:17pm
2nd Dec 2014 9:17pm
In The Complete Vastness Of Night
The way she stands, motionless.
The way she looks down the street,
always waiting for someone.
One eye in poverty
another in paradise
she stands
with ominous visions
of empty-handed destinations
of chipped paint, its colors faded
like youth, in a mountain village
where the brutality of a 36 year war
is a world apart from the dialects
spoken in the black black night.
When I look away she is gone
just as fast, and I am the one
looking for someone.
The way she looks down the street,
always waiting for someone.
One eye in poverty
another in paradise
she stands
with ominous visions
of empty-handed destinations
of chipped paint, its colors faded
like youth, in a mountain village
where the brutality of a 36 year war
is a world apart from the dialects
spoken in the black black night.
When I look away she is gone
just as fast, and I am the one
looking for someone.
812 reads
8 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
31st Aug 2014 7:01pm
31st Aug 2014 7:01pm
Dysentery Mysticism
There have been these intense dreams
about the future, the land cleansed
like a child in the womb.
First, the sky turns orange
then red, then gray
then black...
Then footprints over footprints
from twisting lines to circles
to tangles of screams and panic!
The inferno spreads
in all directions of chaos!
To take everyone from
Chhrists and Bhuddas to Campesinos
to Teenage Mothers holding their Infants
like it is the last thing worth holding onto-
Who will create the...
about the future, the land cleansed
like a child in the womb.
First, the sky turns orange
then red, then gray
then black...
Then footprints over footprints
from twisting lines to circles
to tangles of screams and panic!
The inferno spreads
in all directions of chaos!
To take everyone from
Chhrists and Bhuddas to Campesinos
to Teenage Mothers holding their Infants
like it is the last thing worth holding onto-
Who will create the...
818 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
26th Jun 2014 9:37pm
26th Jun 2014 9:37pm
FlashBacks(Forward)
With a violent pop a firecracker/flashback kicks up
the dirt stained with the same smells of dirty war, it comes alive
like a poem/a book/a random thought/a sign/a shape/a figure/
a metaphor, if not just a syllable:
An anti-poem, An anti-thought,
anti-art;
Random and Irrational-
My world turns one dada da-da da-da
movement at a time.
In warfighting years I am old
and dada is anti-war, but I
cherish the sounds and smells of battle
no less war
for all its booms pops and clicks,
the assault point a step beyond ...
the dirt stained with the same smells of dirty war, it comes alive
like a poem/a book/a random thought/a sign/a shape/a figure/
a metaphor, if not just a syllable:
An anti-poem, An anti-thought,
anti-art;
Random and Irrational-
My world turns one dada da-da da-da
movement at a time.
In warfighting years I am old
and dada is anti-war, but I
cherish the sounds and smells of battle
no less war
for all its booms pops and clicks,
the assault point a step beyond ...
792 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
27th May 2014 00:13am
27th May 2014 00:13am
A Poem For The Concrete
"Iīm going to Argentina, gotta get outta here.
The people are no good here, donīt got God in their heart"
"Iīve been robbed, got nothing.
No food, no money, nothing!"
"I'm starving!"
"This place ainīt no good, not like America.
Miami Beach, man, thatīs the honey pot.
Goin to get back there one day."
"But it's okay tonight,
because I got God in my heart
and I don't need nothin else
and I can sleep like a baby
on this sidewalk"
The people are no good here, donīt got God in their heart"
"Iīve been robbed, got nothing.
No food, no money, nothing!"
"I'm starving!"
"This place ainīt no good, not like America.
Miami Beach, man, thatīs the honey pot.
Goin to get back there one day."
"But it's okay tonight,
because I got God in my heart
and I don't need nothin else
and I can sleep like a baby
on this sidewalk"
650 reads
6 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
2nd May 2014 5:02pm
2nd May 2014 5:02pm
I Couldn't Help But Cry
I couldn't help but cry when
I remebered everything
I forgot
I felt about you, that
I foolishly belived
I did not feel.
I couldn't help but cry when
I thought about how
I taught myself to say to myself, that
I didn't really love you as well.
I remebered everything
I forgot
I felt about you, that
I foolishly belived
I did not feel.
I couldn't help but cry when
I thought about how
I taught myself to say to myself, that
I didn't really love you as well.
788 reads
9 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
29th Mar 2014 5:51pm
29th Mar 2014 5:51pm
Executioner
There sits a garroter
on a table of paper shreds
who judges without being judged
for sins hidden in skin and cloth.
In his second hand chair he drinks
from a cup of plastic decadence
to bask in false, false glory.
on a table of paper shreds
who judges without being judged
for sins hidden in skin and cloth.
In his second hand chair he drinks
from a cup of plastic decadence
to bask in false, false glory.
638 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
9th Mar 2014 9:18pm
9th Mar 2014 9:18pm
Writing In The Dark
A red light across the road creeps across my vision
with faint echoes of dance music-Barely audible.
A car hydroplanes to a steady pitter patter
of fat droplets crahing against sheet metal roofs.
Then headlights flood the darkness and a truck bulldozes
through the night like a herd of elephants.
Then everything becomes silent in the darkness again,
the ground saturated, the water level slowly rising...
with faint echoes of dance music-Barely audible.
A car hydroplanes to a steady pitter patter
of fat droplets crahing against sheet metal roofs.
Then headlights flood the darkness and a truck bulldozes
through the night like a herd of elephants.
Then everything becomes silent in the darkness again,
the ground saturated, the water level slowly rising...
533 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
26th Jan 2014 2:11pm
26th Jan 2014 2:11pm
We are Radicals
There is more debt than there are
jobs and people and progress and
ideas.
There is celebrity and sound bite
and terrorism and a war more
secret and insidious than the one
televised.
There is also a T.V in every room
and a congress...Well, a congress.
We are poets. We are radicals.
We are insurgents countering those
we must obliderate. Impregnating
the refugees in all directions-
Liberty will love, will lay,
will consumate with the innocent
on...
jobs and people and progress and
ideas.
There is celebrity and sound bite
and terrorism and a war more
secret and insidious than the one
televised.
There is also a T.V in every room
and a congress...Well, a congress.
We are poets. We are radicals.
We are insurgents countering those
we must obliderate. Impregnating
the refugees in all directions-
Liberty will love, will lay,
will consumate with the innocent
on...
780 reads
5 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Jan 2014 2:19am
16th Jan 2014 2:19am
A Woman Spoke To Us With Red Cheeks
There are robbers in these hills.
They are hard.
They will hit you in the head.
They will stick you in the kidneys.
And this is how they will do it
(with waving arms and closed fists)-
Spoken by a gentle woman
trying to figure out
where we are from.
They are hard.
They will hit you in the head.
They will stick you in the kidneys.
And this is how they will do it
(with waving arms and closed fists)-
Spoken by a gentle woman
trying to figure out
where we are from.
521 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
6th Nov 2013 4:37pm
6th Nov 2013 4:37pm
I Saw A Picture About War That Was Really About Thirst
The caption read:
There are times when some must die
A light shines through a hole
above the pulpit-
Marking
the contorted pile of bones and flesh,
a helmet fastened for protection,
a rifle oiled but never fired-
Bones that will long be silent
long after the blood has soaked
beneath the church foundation.
A clean shaven martyr
blessed with eternal youth
blessed with eternal thirst.
There are times when some must die
A light shines through a hole
above the pulpit-
Marking
the contorted pile of bones and flesh,
a helmet fastened for protection,
a rifle oiled but never fired-
Bones that will long be silent
long after the blood has soaked
beneath the church foundation.
A clean shaven martyr
blessed with eternal youth
blessed with eternal thirst.
665 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by mbass33 (matthew bass)
