Disposable Poetry

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poems written on the fly

Another fuck poem

Fuck work
fuck school
fuck power
fuck god
fuck you
fuck me
fuck it

let’s dance

EL SEBBO

Filed under: bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing

Winter Settles In

This time of year
the daylight fades
so fast

And cool air nips
at my skin

As I pine for
the long warm nights
of summer

(D. James)

Filed under: art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing

No explanation

The things you do
need no explanation
because words
stop where the action
begins

EL SEBBO

Filed under: bad haiku, bad poetry

explanations

light
air
tree
bird
put them together
and tell me what you heard

for I cannot see
or hear
what I do not know

(D. James)

Filed under: art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing

If

If poetry wasn’t real
wouldn’t we all be insane?

EL SEBBO

Filed under: art, bad poetry, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems

inert

Restless and motionless
frozen in malaise

Waiting for the next thing
not so much wasting time
as simply watching it go by

Motivation is a word
a grouping of letters
I know how to pronounce
the familiarity ends there

(D. James)

Filed under: art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing

Lost

Too much to drink last night
Trying to collect thoughts
and finally letting them
collect themselves

Filed under: art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing

monkey brain

Skipping thoughts
like stones
across my mind

None making
much sense
or connecting
with another

They just fly by
like birds
headed south
for the winter

Some more colorful
than others

(D. James)

Filed under: art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing

Where you’re at

The stars indicate no direction
and the roadsigns are all
rusty and torn
and I don’t even know
if I’m anywhere on the map
crumpled in the back pocket
of your jeans

EL SEBBO

Filed under: art, bad haiku, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing

where I’m at

I was there
now I’m here

for how long
I don’t know

Ask me when
I’ve gone and
I’ll tell you
how long
I stayed

But who knows
where I’ll be
by then

(D. James)

Filed under: art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing

Read the notice carefully

Poetry is a mind-altering drug
Do not hesitate to overdose

EL SEBBO

Filed under: art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england

well, it goes like this …

It all started
last month
when I …

No wait
it goes back
before that
three years ago
when she …

Actually it was
when he said …
but that would have
been ten years
or more now

So it must have been
as far back as before all
that and further still
when I was just a child

Yes, of course
it all began at
the beginning
which would be
the day before
I was born

Or even before
that when my father …

(D. James)

Filed under: art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing

Get a job

But I have a job
I am a poet
It’s a very important job

EL SEBBO

Filed under: art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england

just this

Though there is no heaven
I have known angels

And though there is no hell
I have wrestled demons

Yet all that I know,
and all that I am
or have been
means nothing

In the face
of being
simply a man

(D. James)

Filed under: art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing

Elevation

A cold morning
I am on the first floor
looking outside
The golden light of the sun
warms absolutely nothing
Beauty at its best

Filed under: art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, birthday poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing

Not now or ever

And god is not listening
to you tonight

Tear-stained cheeks
knees bruised from rocking
on the hardwood floor
The words mouthed
over and over again

But god is not listening
to you tonight

He is indifferent
as the dead you
pray for

Deaf as my grandmother

So you would do
well to stand up,
wash your face
and stop asking
for absolution
from someone else

Because god is not listening
to you tonight

But don’t take it
too hard
or make it into
something else
to be miserable
about

For he is not listening
to anyone …
tonight
or any other

(D. James)

Filed under: art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing

Your birthday (To Sofie)

Days go by like birthday candles
but the cake never goes stale
a cheap metaphor for happiness
I guess but words and images
do betray us sometimes
and maybe, maybe
that’s why we love them

EL SEBBO

Filed under: art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing

beat surrender

And I remember nights out
dancing well into the
next morning

A different time
another life

Waiting for the
right song to bring
freedom and elation
in motion

Now I dance
when no one
is looking
to songs
in my head
from those
days gone by

(D. James)

Filed under: art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing

A poem for Mark E. Smith

Hell
is being stuck
in a bar
with a bad singer
singing good poetry

EL SEBBO

Filed under: art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing

On a Sunday

Tea and a cigar
on a lazy Sunday
in the city

People go by
kids and dogs
in tow

As the sun sets
and the air turns
cooler

They walk a little
faster
arms folded for
warmth

Days like this
everything is poetry

(D. James)

Filed under: art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing

For those who don’t need words (the meaning of life)

RnR

El Sebbo

Filed under: art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing

How long do you stay in Hollywood?

The girls walk by
high-heeled shoes
and tight jeans
cigarettes and perfume

Pseudo bad-boys drive
around on expensive
motorcycles that rumble
like thunder

Everyone pretends to
be somebody here
even the movie stars

And the waitresses
in miniskirts
counting tips
in their heads,
worry about their boyfriend’s
drug habit

2am and the boys
from the band
stumble out
of their van
order coffee and smoke cigarettes

watching the legs
of the waitress
who just wants
to go home

Everyone is from
somewhere else
in this city that’s really
a suburb

this place of dreams
that can quickly turn
into a nightmare

And once you wake
it’s best to slink on home

(D. James)

Filed under: art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing