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Pity Party Posey

I brave the cold nights Alone Sitting at the desk here With letters Spilled out In front of me …Daring them to become Something Fine and good

I hand out my Uncomfortable electricity To all who will jot it down

I waltz The Paranoia While the phone remains Eerily silent Despite my Best efforts

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Just gonna look for some paperclips.

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Pet Sounds

Is there anything Better than A good mood Piled up with The Beach Boys as the Soundtrack of the day?

Walking with a skip In your step Enjoying the day Despite the Cold rain And sick children that Lay down under your Dilapidated roof

To find yourself Dancing around To this rare nugget of happiness

These harmonies These mini pop operas Shine so golden Dripping so many colors To your wanting chest

And does it break your heart When you think of Brian Wilson And his total break down? His solo genius All on his own as His wilted flower friends Chuck verbal rocks at His fat head

Brian, if only we could Have saved you

But don’t you have A tie dye heart that beats In a 4/4 pattern?

As 33 1/3 spins such joy For you Without a single Gray cloud in that Sky above you

Do you want to hold hands And walk for a while At the zoo?

Petting each animal as we Pass by?

Feeding them And telling them Each That You (you you you you) Are so Glad they are In Your Life at that Precise moment?

Splendid moods spins today And you can thank The young men With honey voices Singing for you

Yes you and to You only

Today, Wasn’t it just a great Day?

#tumblr poetry #poetry #alt lit #tumblr poets #creative writing poetry #poets on tumblr #brian wilson #beach boys

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Art by Ryszard Kaja (16 January 1962 – 17 April 2019) Dachshund poster

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Percolating

Lightning bolt crazed Too much coffee While my baby is At the hospital Leaving me in Control Of the percolator As her Granddad lays Dying on a cold bed In a November death scene As the black and white Images Flicker past his eyes And the orange juice carton Sits untouched On the table next to his bed

Alone here With not even a cat To keep me company I down the crushed beans In my favorite mug

All the while Our guitar stands Up against the wall Waiting for the buzz To come back Plugged in the outlet To create some Tasty Rock tunes On this freezing winter evening

So I down my Third cup Of the hour And boy do I ever feel it… Strong and black With two spoonfuls Of crazy sugar Melted in the liquid For my quiet enjoyment

She has been gone For just an hour or so now And I miss her Voice and whispers Neck and thighs Fingers and eyes Bangs and ears

So I crush out this Pall Mall cigarette Into the silver ashtray Leaving the smoke To rise to the ceiling Against the wishes Of my landlords And charcoal lungs

I am all jitters I am certainly alive I am dancing upon my chair I am tongue ready And Missing her hard now And hoping for a cheerful woman to Come through my door With good news and a Kiss on my bare shoulder As the heat vent spouts out Warmth On this chilly night When the coffee was all I had And my baby Was away Holding another mans hand And keeping the tears At bay While the smell of Salisbury meat Wafts through the hospital Making her slightly Nauseas and sad

I rise from this Antique desk To make another pot And I will hold off On cranking it up Now …I'll save it Until my dear woman Is back and Possibly groggy And in great need Of a jumpstart After a long weary day With tissues Glued to her hands And a runny nose From great sorrow And a case of the Old blues

My mug is empty now

My heart is in love And the coffee Was perfection While I sit waiting For my lady To come home Once again Where I will greet her With a smile And a cup of the Good stuff When she walks through My door In just an hour or so

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peeling the plastic off

smiling she slowly peeled the plastic wrap off the record album

“ I haven’t done this in ages… it brings back nice memories “

she took the wrapper and crunched it up in her hand and pitched it towards the trash can

missing by a good amount

she reached into the album and pulled out the lyric sheet

and then handed it to me as she went back in and pulled the vinyl out

the glorious black waxed disc always brings a smile to my face and now I had someone to share it with

good.

I rose from the sofa and took the vinyl away from her …placed it on my turntable and gently lowered the needle to the grooves and soon They Might Be Giants were coming out of my speakers

it sounded so good and if we could have eaten it I am certain it would have been mighty tasty

and so we sat on the couch arm in arm as the music played and we didn’t really have to talk much because the music was all around us …like moths near a light and our ears were wide open our eyes closed and the tunes…perfect

and now as I sit at this desk with the record spinning and my girl is off at work so we can get a few more records for our cheapskate stereo

and I’ll always let her peel the plastic off

there is something amazingly sexy about watching her fingers work and I look up to see a smile on her gorgeous face and she’s excited

excited to open it and then to play it

she’s got a good heart for music

maybe tonight when that sun hides itself we can hop into the auto and take a 15 minute ride to the record store (I believe she gets paid today) and pick up some tasty wax and we will break all the laws of the highway to get home sooner where the wrap will come off …like a burlesque show and the tunes will ride again

#tumblr poetry #poetry #alt lit #tumblr poets #creative writing poetry #poets on tumblr #vinyl records

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pacing within the walls of this apartment

I’d pace that apartment for quite a few hours each and every day

starting at the… front porch steps-steps the living room walk-walk the never dined in dining room scuffle-scuffle the bedroom slight-left-steps then the kitchen pad-pad-pad the bathroom is-off-the-beaten-path and I conclude at the back porch door

then back again the same way I arrived

just heading north instead of south

the isolation of my home against the Chenango River only provides a few ducks floating but not a human to cheer me to engage me or to listen to me

I breeze my fingers against the paintings that adorn this home as I scoot on past

just the slightest of curiosity remains in my fingertips

as I’ve felt them all many a time

this fresh hike will include a stop at the fridge for a cool drink of water and a possible brewing of the coffee

this nightmarish boredom will remain within me tight after I am long gone from this place

some years from now as I pace in a new home I hope to have breathing obstacles within my path

a nice time to slow to a stop for a long, lovely hug

and a whispered ‘Thank You’ simply for being here with me

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Chris Wormel - Frog Pond

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Our Scene

I'm in the scene causing you some crazy feelings deep down in that Oh My God body of yours

these wild words that I write are entirely for you dedicated from my hand to your wild senses

I whisper this over and over: I adore your being… your chalk on the sidewalk naivety

your wandering love that comes and goes which confuses me and thrills me to no end

should I tell you That I keep my lights down so low when I am thinking of you?

That I call you every name in the book when you up and disappear on me?

That my pillow has stitched into it your full name in a shade of my favorite color of brown?

that it is simply love that I feel for you, I've inspected it and held it in my palm for the longest of time and have no other conclusion than it is certainly love that I feel for you

my momma my soft spot my chickadee my everyday feeling

that I have you is nobody business but my own

you are simply a smile in my address book

and this stamp is pasted on a secretive envelope with your name addressed on it

a 276 page letter of adoration is heading your way and it is all thank you' and this could never have happened without you' praise

for without you all would be rather meaningless like writing poems in invisible ink with my eyes blurry for no reason and my nights a pile of starry nothingness

I am in the scene and you have brought me here to this paper where my chest beats in 4/4 time and my love pours through this cheap pencil for you… yet another poem in which you are the star

I’d easily give up my rock and roll for you… place it in the bottom of the stuffed closet and let it murmur off in the distance because I need no distractions from your eyes and neck which deliver inside of me strange goosey quivers popping like corn in my heart but it tickles… believe me when I say it really does tickle when you are in my scene

…this scene created by enchanted words that soared from our papers which hung in the air like a jangly D-chord dangling from a cloud and playing a tune only known by the two of us

and we’ll keep it that way if that’s fine by you we’ll keep it that way as we march along together to the tune of our own making

#tumblr poetry #poetry #alt lit #tumblr poets #creative writing poetry #love poem #poets on tumblr

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Record Store Day purchases. South Park with Ween and Les Claypool. Sonic youth. Dead Milkmen. Joe Strummer and Talking Heads.

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Our Metal Opera

this metal opera of ours shivers like a good taste on my face and screams in my ears (which happen to be my all time favorite body part)

and so as you remove your blouse and my birthday has arrived I take you in like the music of a thousand planets

singing simply for me

and you with your horned helmet and robotic brassiere does something smooth to me and I can sing your praises all fucking night

and now with glasses the color of winter flowers sitting on top of my forehead I squint insanely at your nude figure in the blue walls of our lovemaking sessions

and flip it over once to the other side and sing for me a new song

and you captivated by my mellifluous croaking (a honey frog) you call me the style of the year… you whisper my hidden nickname as I penetrate the walls of your tender mouth with my crazy soft tongue singing as always singing to you to me to us

and the night is young and the fat lady she ain’t showing up (my ears wouldn't pay her any mind anyhow that’s why I love them to pieces)

so dear heart flip it over twice and we’ll have another run into the wild flesh that burns hot with scented lust as the tea seeps inside of mugs underneath the New York moonlight that pours into our song that only the two of us know the lyrics to

so one more amazonian kiss… a bravo jungle with flowers hitting the ceiling fans before showering us with sliced pedals and laughing we continue on and on like a needle stuck so sweetly into the groove of the perfect record which plays at every speed with grace and gusto

so say a prayer for that wax in our collective souls and don’t let the tune fade out to crisp December air keep it warm keep it hot keep it alive and most of all keep it coming

dear, keep it coming

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[senor-plume]

Moog Pinball Machine (2012) created by Kevin Lightner on the Moog Reddit Forum - proposed as a Kickstarter idea that all sensors and targets could trigger actual analog synth circuits and sampled Moog analog sounds.....

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Whim

on a whim I jumped

tree stump log floating aroused by the pepped up bubbles

cocaine strokes across the brim water in my eyes chugging alone like a barfly at the end of the bar (half glass empty)

lipstick cigarettes float like lily-pad islands

I anchor!

reaching in ..up to my elbow I find muck and murder weapons

I'll tell not a soul

on a whim I jumped off

like a fool

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