Bland rooms
and bad food
Time shifts
and lost days
Windows
that don’t open
and beds that
make themselves
Fitful sleep
in unfamiliar places
Makes you
appreciate
the little place
you call home
(D. James)
Bland rooms
and bad food
Time shifts
and lost days
Windows
that don’t open
and beds that
make themselves
Fitful sleep
in unfamiliar places
Makes you
appreciate
the little place
you call home
(D. James)
I shot
the box
of Rice Krispies
stabbed the
Fruit Loops
and strangled
with bare hands
the Raisin Bran
Now
there’s nothing left
for tomorrow’s breakfast
(D. James)
My ear is shot
Haven’t slept in two days
and here I am writing
this miserable poem
Is it friendship pushing me
or just poetry’s bad junk
shaking me up and down
and never letting me be?
EL SEBBO
Nasty habit
of self
referential
involvement
centeredness
Even being aware
only focuses
on the single point
So it is
to what
degree
do we see
there are others
not just me?
(D. James)
no candles
but fireworks
no explosions
but roman candles
we have written pomes
for one good year now
we are very tired
but our mouths are still
full of spit, tongue, stones
and words
no firecrackers
but live ammo
no funeral pyres
but a feather
of the Phoenix
EL SEBBO
Rain falls
over the city
Everything swells
and creaks
Water trickles
along the rails
The apartment
feel like a submarine
I await the order
to blow the ballasts
and rise again
(D. James)
poems
are
free
like a bank robbery
a good fist fight
or a major break up
I said
poems
are
free
I didn’t say
they were nice
EL SEBBO