brenna

24 March 2009

Wed, 18 Nov 2009 16:34:09 -0600

These are unnatural neon colors,
spandex notions to fit a form
that bulges and lumps
out from your rotting center.
Zombies don’t belong in poetry, they say,
because undead do not read, only eat.
But they do not leave the house,
when that is the very first thing
zombies set out to do
upon waking and finding
that they are dead
and little has managed to change.

10 March 2009

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 14:34:49 -0500

Title for something: The Alien who found himself in an Indie movie.
or a plot idea with a better title…

————————————

I chanced to find myself at the edge of your yard, not knowing how I got there, not knowing if it was 6:30 am or 6:30 pm, nor how long I had been out. I felt freshly bruised and achy.

14 January 2009

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 14:31:55 -0500

I did not tell you to get a job,
to get up early before the day has opened,
home after someone has closed it.

I just explained that you would
not live if you did not eat
not eat if you did not have money
not have money if you did not work
because your parents did not have money
left over to leave for you

to earn interest
first we must have money.
no one is really interested in the poor,
the sick, the huddled, if they ever were.

Make way for a richer man,
a lighter man.
Where is the smarter man,
the better woman, the whole
citizen. I’ve got this thought
but can’t get it in
get it over
to someone who will
get it over
to someone else
to spread,
grow

before each day is closed
and I have not been opened.

————————————————

The man in question
will question everything
unless we give him a token
of out-dated gratitude

a sliver, a morstel
of something he has won

keep the decoy
inflated
now he is frustrated
calling you sir
when all you give is
contempt
there is nothing else you have
earned. though you received more

at least, where is the guilt? do they have a surgery
for that, now, too?

————————————————

I wake with thoughts
of more sleep
a drowsy sense
of anger at raising
my head to someone else’s
day, scheduled resting,
paid moments, empty

leaking boredom

10 December 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 14:15:34 -0500

We are a restless bunch of rag-tag
animals who can’t mind our own business,
pave over our neighbors homes if we can
get ahead. We take what we aren’t given
we take what we do not need. When we are
functioning, lights blinking in our minds,
activities are rushed, everything is
important. We design devices which, as
metaphors, almost function too well.
Treadmills are one. Perhaps they were
fashioned as a joke.

————————————————

Who can point me to the nearest cafe?
I’m hungry and haven’t eaten all day.

Are you wasting away or wasting the day
what is on your mind; what do you
want to say? Is anyone up there;
does anybody turn the lights on
in your eyes each morning
or afternoon
who’s after you
what follows
who’s following

In some ways you can seek only wealth
or knowledge, and not both, and so
you wonder if you should cease seeking,
wonder if your time is through

I can see you peeking
behind the corners still

07 December 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 14:01:55 -0500

Senses dulled like yellow plastic
stil gravitating toward free time
though filled with thoughts of to-do.

I think my mind may still be attached
to an ideal I once held no to be this
office jocky. Who did I want to be
again? I’m stil trying to see within
traffic patterns and icy roads
blood splatter and senseless goals

Would we still need to make puzzles for ourselves
in a more naturally complex world?
What have we done to build all this
together with our ancestors
together with out wider-reaching minds.

I still have trouble with the corporate world
no matter how familiar. It’s not my world
and seems to be mostly filler

My mind works like a poem, no an advertisement

——————————————————————-

The next day was just as gray
The next noon just as hungry.
until this hunger goes away
my heart remains so sorry.

——————————————————————-

Next to the center of time
Near the middle of you,
the end of me

Abutting the snowy forest
a tar abandoned lot

A heart that is mistaken
a word that means a lot

A mind that cannot rest
a gun no longer shot

A sly emotion bested

Stillness gone to sleep

——————————————————————-

So many things are started
automatically and maintained electronically

24 November 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 13:53:17 -0500

I felt I could
build you
something

IF I JUST KEPT TRYING TO BE
A GOOD PERSON, BUT NO ONE
SAID THAT’S NOT HOW YOU GET
SOMEWHERE. NO ONE SAID I’D
HAVE TO TAKE NAMES.

————————————————-

Sound the accordian song
to lull me to sleep before
I get to know the thing
that I have lost. Play it
again, as i love it so
that I would die
to carry out its bidding
it’s giving me away

Not letting me say
what I’ve been living
to say
I’m not made
This Way

————————————————-

“Where’s my monolith?” she said.
“I don’t claim to understand you.”
“I don’t claim to know.”

21 October 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 13:43:09 -0500

I grow weary of this game. Sometimes I take
it too seriously, standing grim-still, while
others roll around excitedly,trying to get money
to stick to them. It’s like some kind of game
show to them, wind or lose, so long
as everyone is entertained.

21 August 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 13:33:49 -0500

of what does life consist?

many things have need of saying
many things I’ve missed
I never saw them when they went by
I was sitting on the curb.
or did I not see them as I went by?
who moved and who stood?
who moved? well, who could?

Am I in competition with you
grabbing at eggs, hatching or
breaking or killing and rotting
in shell?

————————————————————

In the bear’s belly
I can find the evidence
of your Big Foot. I am aware
that he is hiding in the woods.

Man probably tried to off his kind
in order to take over the world.
His kind, too gentle to win,
withdraw to the hills and forests
hoping only not to be found.

————————————————————

Hence from it came you
the only thing worth keeping
the only thing that’s true

18 August 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 13:26:20 -0500

on my lunch I went for a walk
and I came upon something lying
on the pavement near a tree.
A pigeon with its head twisted
around the wrong way. Dead.
Until it twitched and opened an eye
to look up at me. I made a sympathy
noise, not knowing what else to do.
Pick it up and try to help it?
I was already quite far gone,
broken neck. Or perhaps try to
finish the job. Put it out of its
misery. But I thought I shouldn’t
touch a dying wild animal.
I stared at it, struck sad,
unable to move. “I’m sorry,” I said
and walked away. I did my best
not to cry.

14 August 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 13:18:29 -0500

give me escape, please
I will go now
if you let me
but you won’t

I’ll be here in a decade
in my head
don’t make me sit quietly
and listen to the droning
of those who say nothing
yet speak
and speak
and sap my kindness
with no returns.
This is not investment

I cannot say how useless
this begins—continues—to feel.

——————————————————-

Something of this
Something from this
Nothing more
from me.
Days are two shades
of the same
dull or infuriating.

——————————————————-

I saw you standing with your lover
and wondered who you have come to be
and how you used to know me
since you might not be
yourself

——————————————————-

Tell me if you notice the sky
coming down—I will run to greet it
Tell me if the zombies finally come
for I would like to meet that day
with club in hand—to not worry
about driving to work that morning,
as long as I am with you when it happens
I will be ok. try to take me away

——————————————————-

There is a happy person I wish I could be
she’s on a beach somewhere
laughing and helping needy children have fun
giving gifts and hugs and smiling
to herself at the joys in this world

While I cannot escape the boring
whining of adult children and their
tantrum. It’s preventing me from
having mine. At least I do so
in the privacy of my own home

not in an internet chat room
to a stranger who’s trying to sell cable
and trying not to care that
they have the IQ of a brain-dead
laboratory ape. Which is insulting
to the ape. Some of them come back
more than once. It must be fun.

——————————————————-

I told you 5 o’clock in the morning’s
no time for denying the state of things

No, 5 o’clock in the morning is something
that stays alive, awake once it stirs
you from a long languid sleep

13 August 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 13:02:37 -0500

Sometimes I laugh because I hope
what you’ve said is funny

12 August 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 12:59:00 -0500

There are things we learn
not to ask for, that will not
come, but when do we evaluate again?
or do we keep adding to the list
and never remove

when do we yank up our heavy bodies
to look up over the window sill
and check if the stars are falling?

————————————————————-

Would you read it
just because it’s from me
even if you don’t like poetry?
or scowl and set it down
stuck in your determined confusion?

————————————————————-

Time to wake from this
peel back the dead skin
peel back this hard face
try to stop crushing my soul.
or being to dramatic about it
eh? or nay?

someone let me out

05 August 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 12:54:31 -0500

GOODNIGHT to the endless void
of work-a-day-work. There has to be
one thing, a something worth enduring for
a little while longer (and it can’t be
the money). Something where the people aren’t so
grouchy and demanding. That might make me
laugh if I were in a better mood. Not likely now.
I can’t seem to write as anyone else but me, and
I think I’m taking up my whole head.

29 July 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 12:42:47 -0500

I’ve been waiting for the rain
all day in the heat now
it’s dancing around the atmosphere;
I can smell and feel it not coming
down the leaves and branches
down into my hair. Thunder, yes,
and lightning still, and drops
few and between long pauses,
yet not for real, not for honest
toiling, dropping, aching with ions,
not down here with me.

My case, I’ll point, is not so solid
for what I desire. My case, I guess,
is surely lacking that something
I look for. Admit, though, somtimes
you are watching for me to make
my moves. So still am I that
you go onthinking I’ll never
get this proved. Careful, careful,
for I am too honest. I’ll tell you
I know nothing of this. But others
will not say how very baffled
and disgruntled they think they
will stay.

Wind sweeping, the limbs beating,
leaking, creeping, weeoing, keeping,
something else away. Something
else, I say.

When beginning something new
take into account that I will
not be broken, except by my own
thoughts, take down my protests
my misfortunes, my underlying
hates. I will be forever a slave
to the darkness that I make.

I do not think, alone or together,
of many happy things these days
except the air and so the weather,
except being lazy and craved.

This is fog all about me, I think,
gray, fake, and yet I think
this all is real, hope I know
what shall I do, or say, or hope
or how I must go forth

Even things that once were easy
are heavy, make me feel spongy,
soft, fragile, lonesome for a day
ahead with no idea how to plan it.

Are you 11 PM dark yet, like I feel,
like I said? Do you get it?
Are my feet and ankles failing?
Do my knees protest? I do not
know this, I do not hold this
anymore than you do.
anymore than you.

————————

Something about the summer
as an adult, something
about the time that does not
stop. Something about the vacation
that isn’t coming. Something about
the something that is not.

Nothing about the time I am spending
Nothing about the days that I still live
Nothing about you here and laughing
Nothing to give, share, love, or
forgive.

————————

I would take you with me
if I were going. I would
bring my things if I knew
where. I would let you hear
it if I could listen.
I would make you see
if I could care.

————————

keeping to myself is keeping me up—
awake or suspended or undone.
carrying what I once did and
a plus-load, a little more than
I have in my past—getting a
little less for food now for
my mind. I take what I do not
know to be false. And so I am
spent without shopping. I am
lost without ever leaving, I am
coasting without the wheels I
meant to get before I left
the oil
the grease
to stop the friction
of dying
slowly
without peace

————————

I’ll walk you home—I’ll eat your face—
I’ll walk you home, just trust me.
I’ll walk you home, give me the place.
I’ll walk you home, just promist me
that you won’t die, that you won’t
give up so easily—just tell me
one thing, just choose it, and I will
let you take your place on the porch,
in the squeak-swing, let you watch
me paint the ceiling, yes,
if you can keep up with me this
time, I’ll just have to walk
the hard way. Where no one would
follow me if I asked—the places
I would say we go if you’ll agree
if you’ll prevent me from my demons
until the haunting ends, if it
is to end before I am gone.

Come in, I’ll walk you home
I’ll take the shortcut from this place,
Come in, I have some keepsakes.
I’d like you to replace. Done is
done with no regrets, but I don’t
keep this pace, I whine and slouch
and disregard my tasks and my
own low, sad face.

15 July 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 12:42:20 -0500

THERE ARE SOME THINGS IN LIFE EACH OF US HOLDS AS STRENGTHS THAT ARE UNIQUE TO US IN THEIR COMBINATION. ABILITIES. UNDERSTANDINGS. INSIGHTS. SO WE MUST FIND THESE AND KEEP THESE AND STILL BUILD UPON THEM SOMEHOW. WHILE MAINTAINING THE OTHER RESPONSIBILITIES OF OUR LIVES—IF POSSIBLE. THESE ARE NOT EASY TASKS.

———————

I sold you a death ray because you wanted one, without asking the reasons or thinking step by step about it. There was profit to be hand. And so I face a future perhaps marred by the end of times, although this seems to mean little to me thusfar. A left-legged kickball player introduced me to the possibility of my oversight, and I understand that sort of idea is his specialty—pointing out missed points, forgotten possible outcomes and the like. I punched him in the face for trying to undermine my social and political freedoms. He fleed the scene, and I finished his chocolate shake.

———————

a NOMAD, a MISCREANT
something, something—
leave me on the sidewalk
and follow what you already know
until it leads you to some more
BULLSHIT not much better than
this. How can I find any time
purpose—in a concrete form?
A breathing purpose that needs to
be kept alive, I cannot wait too
long to feed it, or we shall both
soon die.

I think you know that I don’t
know where to begin, so perhaps this
is all in my head. Fill out the
paperwork, make this something
you have DECIDED to do and
get the fuck on with it already,
I say.

12 June 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 12:42:00 -0500

The evening was pierced with main, and from the puncture wounds dripped greed, which sank to the bottom of the pool like mercury. Everything seemed to be sinking. People were diving off the edge of the in-ground pool and plummeting down to the bottom, fast. They stayed down longer than seemed safe before surfacing again. Of course, swimming seemed to be the logical solution for such humidity.

scaffolding

05 May 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 12:41:42 -0500

what do you think is the best way
to stop a vicious cycle?

[next page is undated. after 05 May but before 12 June]

There is no better feeling than
This is NOT my PROBLEM anymore!

Perhaps life is just too complicated for me.
I am too drawn to simple
and I feel no one understands me
but these are different issues

my mind is a clouded mess,
and I cannot make sense
I am lost
and all good things seem temporary
bad things are forever.
I cannot gather my thoughts in this
madness
I can only die
sometimes a little
sometimes more

I wish I could write pretty things
but there is too much on top
I must first clear off

I don’t really think I make sense anymore
or maybe I’m finding I never did
but I can only hope that’s not true

My thoughts repeat in loops
I cannot get away
from my brain.

02 May 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 12:41:19 -0500

why doesn’t everyone just
SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR ONCE?

They think it’s odd that I am quiet
I think it’s annoying that they
TALK so damn much.

No one gets it. No one
really understands because
they don’t even think.
They don’t think the same way
would be a nicer way of putting it,
but I don’t really wan to be nice.
why should I care what any of
Them things?

This world makes me starving

This world makes me starving.
Everyone else seems full
or just hungry enough not to care.
Maybe I should just start doing
whatever I want whenever
I WANT

because I don’t know what that is.
it seems pretty simple to me
but not as simple to solve.

it is my humanity that is
wasting away, and when I am
hungry, I am angry.
You won’t like me when I’m
HUNGRY.

They never stop to consider that
NOTHING they are saying ever matters.
Yet they still seem to enjoy talking
about it. I don’t think it’s an act.
I think maybe they actually think
this shit means something.

I don’t want to keep acting like I
am normal if I’m not really sure
why I am expected to.

I’m not really sure why I am
expected to put up with this
BULLSHIT

everything is so empty and shallow
and they think I would be good
to be in charge of this?!
How is that better?

what do you tell them?
what do you say?
why do we do this?
why are we here?
why do we listed?
why do we care?
why not just leave?
why not just get away?
why not, why not
why?

22 April 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 12:40:52 -0500

I Really don’t like this piece of shit job anymore. It makes me want to destroy the hopes and dreams of everyone who crosses me. And the whole thing is fucking meaningless. I’m tired of the same questions every day. Every person seems dumber than the last.

01 April 2008

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 12:40:27 -0500

many a man’s life in nature ends here
a coward can carry his own surprise
from the dark of his hole to the dead-open
ice, and your perils mean nothing
to any but you.

I find I am not an artist or a wood-worker
that I cannot draw this nor build a table
to lay it upon, My Disappointment.

Even when they teach it to children, they know—
somewhere in there—that not everyone
will be. Don’t say it’s not perfect, a miracle,
don’t say you were lied to, and don’t say
I don’t know how to make it better,
most all don’t say we’ve no hope.

Everyone thinks they get the joke
while no one else does, no one else
is as smart, but they’re all laughing.
The secret is that it’s not funny—
someone is going to die.