A poem for Mark E. Smith
Hell
is being stuck
in a bar
with a bad singer
singing good poetry
EL SEBBO
For those who don’t need words (the meaning of life)
RnR
El Sebbo
The title is longer than the poet itself
I measured myself today
EL SEBBO
Yellow Woman
The writer speaks
The yellow woman asks questions
nobody understands
The writer answers politely
The yellow woman smiles
Outside words are pressing
their faces to the window
wondering
EL SEBBO
Tombstone
To DJ Eldon
This is the place where
old cowboys meet
with torn leather boots
and a toothless mouth
full of tobacco
Backs hurt
Whiskey burns
Memories flare up
A sign flaps in the wind
but you can’t read it
as it stands on the opposite
side of yer heart
EL SEBBO
A beautiful view (or why poems can’t be explained)
I live in that
house that you can’t see
and you live in that
house that you can’t see
EL SEBBO
A very short history of rock and roll (1980s)
It was while
we were listening
to the Residents
that she realized
she wasn’t
in love
with me
anymore
EL SEBBO
Fucking around
Today I told myself
to stop fucking around
but I told myself
I could fuck around
as much I as wanted too
because after all
it is always myself
who has the final
word
EL SEBBO
No ego
When I speak
my words
stop belonging
to me
When I speak
I disappear
in musical
air
El Sebbo
Black hole
Alcohol
is poetry’s black hole
Things get sucked in
deformed until they disappear
leaving only the outline
of their shadow
in the painful
poetic skies
EL SEBBO
Nordic skies
Another beautiful sky
through the kitchen window
I wonder what’s so special
about them nordic skies
Inspiration maybe
EL SEBBO
The amazing power of poetry
Sebastien Doubinsky
is a woman
EL SEBBO
What idiots and poets believe
the main difference
between men and women is sex
luck exists
words have a different meaning
EL SEBBO
Strange things you remember (or what poetry can be made of)
I remember that
in the summer
of 88
DJ must have had
the smallest room
in New York
closets full of books
and ghosts
Crossbones laughter
in the heat
EL SEBBO
Air Force None
757 isn’t a plane
it is a haiku
you uncultured morons
EL BASHO
Brand new poem in cellophane wrap (Never used before!)
It goes like this
EL SEBBO
Opiluo - To Jacques Roubaud
the poet spoke about
jpnese haiku
it rained outside
EL SEBBO
Sky blues
looking for something in the sky
reflected in my eye in the sky
objects are larger than they appear
in the mirror of your soul
rickety-o
rocket to the moon
my heart slowly suffocates
like a sweet-eyed Laika
oh la-la-la
space conquest is a lonely business
that’s why all poets
are astronauts
doo-da-oh
my eye in the sky
telescope of love
and distant emotions
EL SEBBO
What are friends for
This morning
Death knocked at my door
That’s how I realized
my doorbell was broken
EL SEBBO
The Return of the Prodigal Poet
So I’m back
yackety yack
nearly broke my back
and really need some smack
El SEBBO
Blindness
Until now
I had always
ragarded darkness
as a friend
EL SEBBO
The Non-haiku
No inspiration today
Fuck make up
your own images
EL SEBBO
Urban Evening
The chrome sky shimmers lightly
attached to the cars’ antennas
I am walking home
my head full of radio waves
Toussaint-Louverture
He will be back
in his uniform
soaking wet
under the great blue ball
of the noon sky
He will be back
with his rusted saber
tarnished epaulettes
and muddy boots
He will back
and his voice
will be like thunder
in the forest
and his smile
will be like sunshine
in the slums
He will be back
with a thousand lwas
standing invisible
on his large shoulders
their hands slightly ruffling
his curled black hair
He will be back
and in his eyes
this world
will be reflected
upside down
at last
LEAVING
We will be leaving soon
leaving Paris and its famous streets
famous people famous dogshits
Going on a new adventure
or so we like to think
Leaving to start a new life
if life can ever be new
although it sure can be folded
and carried in your pocket
like an old letter
that you might like
to reread
once in a while
EL SEBBO ON THE GO
A tribute to white noise from the 80s
Summer’s smoggy fist
has grabbed the city
Everything seems gray
It’s impossible to breathe
and sweat turns faces
into masks
It feels exactly like life
EL SEBBO
The morning after the party
Empty bottles
Smell of ashes
Wine stains on the floor
Bad breath and a headache
It was a good party
The heart of the matter
whenever you’re holding
your own bleeding heart
in your hands
picture yourself
as an Aztec king
shivering on top of a pyramid
as the evening sets in
waiting for rain
and the first colors
of spring
EL SEBBO
V is for their victory
Once again
they’ve won
and we’ve lost
No question there
and no question asked
No bagpipes to come to our rescue
and no way out the slaughter
They spoke well and we stuttered
They had muscles and we wore glasses
Our excuses are worthless
but our bruises are real
and the nurses are laughing at us
and throwing stones
It was a good fight though
and I don’t mind losing
that much
Oh well
I guess
that’s why
I’m an anarchist
EL SEBBO
Invisible
Little after little
I am becoming invisible
like a reflection
on a windowpane
or a faint breeze
lifting innocent skirts
It’s not that horrible
It’s not that great either
It just is
Some people call it natural
Others call it unfair
I call it ageing
slowly becoming a ghost
among other ghosts
known or unknown
EL SEBBO
Lightning moves/Kings of the street
We are the kings of nothing
but move like lightning
and leave on your eyes
a blinding scar
EL SEBBO
About
“Disposable Poetry” is brought to you by The Lucky 13 Writers Club , which is really just 2 crazed writers, one a Frenchman living in Denmark (El Sebbo), the other an American living in the United States (D. James).
Conceived in Feb 2007 as a transcontinental experiment, they put this blog together to share their work in the hope that someone, other than themselves, might read it. Today there are more than 350 poems and growing. Late in 2008 the structure changed a bit as El Sebbo took a break to work on other projects, but still posts occasionally. New poems are now being posted every other day and if you haven’t done so already, please browse our extensive archives, check out our tag and category clouds or pop a word or phrase in the search bar and see what you find.
If you get something out of any of it, great, if not, then turn the page.
If you feel strongly about something we write, or just want to, leave a comment. Bookmark us and come back, we’ll be here with something new.
Occasionally we may invite a guest poet to post - that is if we can find other poets who want to be associated with us. Thus far we’ve only ever had one brave soul who thought he was crazy enough to post here. Check his poem out on the Guest Poets page.
For our readers who like reading in their readers, the blog is available via RSS, at “http://disposablepoetry.com/feed/”
