Disposable Poetry

poems written on the fly

Archive for April, 2008

Mercurial Emotion (or sometimes it’s better to shut the fuck up)

Posted by D. James on 30 April 2008

I’d tell you
how I feel

But I’m not
sure I should

Not because
I don’t know
myself
or don’t have
the words

More because
I fear they’d be
misunderstood

Or worse
I’d have to be
responsible
as if I have to feel
the same way
forever

And there’s no way
of knowing
what the next day
will bring

(D. James)

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The limit of poetry

Posted by sdoubinsky on 29 April 2008

rain
depression
poetry
more rain

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100 degrees

Posted by D. James on 28 April 2008

Everything thickens
feels sluggish

No interest in food
or motion

Scents not
smelled before
emanate from somewhere
behind something in the kitchen

It’s as if the sun
never goes down
never goes down
never goes down

Still it’s better
than being cold

(D. James)

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North

Posted by sdoubinsky on 25 April 2008

No
matter
where
you
are

Poetry
is
always
at
the
center
of
the

horizon

EL SEBBO

Posted in art, bad haiku, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, writing | 1 Comment »

Radiant Heat

Posted by D. James on 24 April 2008

You tell me who
you are
in small ways

Not what you say
but when

I feel you
even after you’ve gone

The waiting hurts
like someone is
pulling something
out of my middle
by degrees

There are
three cures
You
Time
or Death

I’m still deciding

(D. James)

Posted in art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing | 1 Comment »

Overweight champions

Posted by sdoubinsky on 23 April 2008

Their feet shake the ground
and the teeth in our skulls
Their gigantic arms
send dried leaves
whirling around us
Their laughter
booms enigmatic
like deep thunder
Who are they?
Who were they?
Nobody knows
and nobody
really cares
because the first
buds are blooming
and birds are a-singing
and the overweight champions
just become mountains
on the horizon line
very blue
very far away

EL SEBBO

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Chinese puzzle

Posted by D. James on 22 April 2008

Why is it
fortune cookies
no longer tell your future?

Have all the mystics
gone on strike?

Now they read
“Today is a nice day.”
But that ain’t no future

And anyway
it’s raining

(D. James)

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The purpose of poetry

Posted by sdoubinsky on 21 April 2008

No purpose
nor direction
but the heart
of the heart
- could this be
the answer
or would that be
too poetic?

EL SEBBO

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The Illusion of a Democratic Republic

Posted by D. James on 18 April 2008

A government run
by corrupt fools
is still a government
still corrupt
and it is still
run
by
fools

(D. James)

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The illusion of Socialism

Posted by sdoubinsky on 17 April 2008

A government ruled
by well-meaning bourgeois
is still a government
and it is still
ruled
by
bourgeois

EL SEBBO

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in the weeds

Posted by D. James on 16 April 2008

The waitresses
upbeat chatter
doesn’t match
her sad face

Tea is steeping
milk and sugar
patiently waiting

And I am lost
among the
knives and forks
plates of half-eaten meals

Thoughts adrift
in shafts of sunlight
spilled across the counter

Pay the check
leave a tip
and walk out
the same door
I walked in

Keep things simple
until my mind
returns

Bringing with it
what was lost
and found

(D. James)

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Anonymous

Posted by sdoubinsky on 15 April 2008

Courage
is never
anonymous
and neither
is hate
but cowardice
ah
that’s another
story

EL SEBBO

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bedtime poem

Posted by D. James on 14 April 2008

Heavy with sleep
everything to do
but no time

Wait until morning
when I can think
straight again

Right now
it’s all I can do
to stay awake long
enough to write these words

(D. James)

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Anniversary (to my father)

Posted by sdoubinsky on 11 April 2008

Ten years ago
you left us
under a cloudy sky
and the cold wind
was warmer than our bones
Well, today
the sky is pretty much
the same
except for the clouds
which are a little bit
whiter
but I guess
that’s just a trick
my memory
is playing on me

EL SEBBO

Posted in art, birthday poems, seb | No Comments »

forward

Posted by D. James on 10 April 2008

Life moves in one direction

(D. James)

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Marquis de Sade

Posted by sdoubinsky on 9 April 2008

In this prison,
I -

EL SEBBO

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can you leave things behind if you’re going in a circle?

Posted by D. James on 8 April 2008

The world changes
and we change in it

Divergent paths
verge

Veer off
into other lives

Meet again
in some other form

Do we recognize
this place
as if sprung
from nowhere?

Are we known
here anymore?

Or has everything
simply moved on?

(D. James)

Posted in art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing | 1 Comment »

What I remember

Posted by sdoubinsky on 7 April 2008

What I remember
are images
The words are gone
and live a life of their own
They never call me nor write
but the images
are still with me
and sometimes
I do wish
they would pay rent

EL SEBBO

Posted in art, bad poetry, breakfast poems, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, writing | No Comments »

empty

Posted by D. James on 4 April 2008

I looked in the place
I’ve looked before
where I thought
for sure I’d left it

But it was empty

I checked again
to make certain
and found nothing

I could swear
there was a poem
in my head
one I’d thought
about all day

But the cupboard is bare

Whatever happened
to those words?
I guess I’ll never know

(D. James)

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Billy the Kid

Posted by sdoubinsky on 3 April 2008

Caught at the dusty crossroads
of violence and justice - never
quite a man nor a boy
a question simply lingers:
quiƩn es?

EL SEBBO

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looking past bottom

Posted by D. James on 2 April 2008

Can you feel it
because I can’t

For too long
I tried to suppress
all this anger
all this pain

Now all I know
is this aching
numbness

Wildly searching
for an answer
when all the while
it’s been right here

Inside my head
inside of me

It doesn’t matter
It means nothing
It solves nothing
nothing at all

(D. James)

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American wars (Fill in the blanks)

Posted by sdoubinsky on 1 April 2008

A good …… is a dead …..

EL SEBBO

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