we didn’t know what we were doing 

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68 comments

  1. multiplemichael

    THE WORST REASON FOR ASSUMING
    life is private exercise for a lazy God
    “I didn’t know what I was reading”
    questions about what will be
    approximately experienced
    by the reader
    —————————–
    —————————–
    the poet knows
    what he knows
    the reader
    is on another type of bicycle
    ****impenetrable men can never surrender

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  2. multiplemichael

    the poet running around in circles
    “THE CONTENT OF MY WORDS ARE VANISHING”
    frequency of word or thought
    HONEYMOON
    HONEYMOON NIGHT
    specific experiences not left to mystery
    readers find the abstract unknowable
    poets find the abstract to be an irritating rash
    an ever growing subject that needs attention
    there be no origination—only discovery

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  3. multiplemichael

    dead people get a chuckle
    from the private musings
    that escape the cells of the brain
    cobbling words into something
    poetry is little more than a rehearse
    when I saw your socks
    I knew your inherited regimen

    Like

  4. multiplemichael

    ——ENOUGH INHERITED REGIMEN TO FILL TWO ADULT SOCKS—-
    Billie Holiday singing “that ole devil in the sock”
    each tombstone read
    DEAD BY PHARMACEUTICALS
    get naked and turn the television off
    turn the television on and get naked
    clothing to pad the poetic dialogue
    the little tightening almost gone
    the knot of sodomy

    Liked by 1 person

    • eatmorewords

      he could fill a whole sock when he was 14 – you know the drill
      his parents had to remove the curtains
      – the Blues the drugs the dead – the constant circle
      – recycled language amounts to the same

      the naked TV
      the naked lunch

      we come into the world the same way – we all exit the same

      the knot of forever

      Like

    • multiplemichael

      ———–your last poop was a solid question mark
      ——————————————————————
      ———–waiting outside a bordello
      to give your daughter
      a ride home
      jacked-up and dramatized
      she sat in the front
      and then in the back
      possibly smoking cigarettes
      backwards
      never
      a word about customers
      a great variety
      or no variety
      dangling from the crotch
      CHAMPIONSHIP SEX

      Like

    • multiplemichael

      ——AUMQUE——-two fives and a ten and a digital watch
      he gives me the name of some dead KGB agent
      when I see him I might jab a fork in his hand
      “wake up mister Mick Jagger of the Poetic Crazies”
      private thoughts about buried suspicion
      transmissions from the clouds
      small notes from the Analysis Room
      cheese-and-onion crisp
      kind of information
      trickledown

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        digital watches used as enticements for the new settlers – history horse traded on the bag of small pox blankets –
        factorial analysis never did anyone any good –

        in the analysis room they had a man trying to make sense of Pi
        – thought he could see patterns in the world – tried to crack the NASDAQ with an algorithm of Beatle melodies
        – crackpot conclusions from the salaried man

        Like

  5. multiplemichael

    MISMATCHED ACQUAINTANCES
    messages on a lavatory wall
    was it a little Russian ?
    or a Russian in a small cubicle ?
    gritted teeth
    hoisted off the commode
    the joys of a (seraph)
    teetering between dread and expectancy
    religious awe before the drop
    psychological turds
    turds from a younger Stephen King
    clean turds—clean exit
    a noble poop

    Like

  6. multiplemichael

    small cats proud of their clean poop
    old women weeping under umbrellas
    a paroxysm of coughing
    was it one person ?
    the smell of bay rum
    a Pinocchio penis
    Robert Frost on late night television
    his voice like leaves on a windswept day
    twirl, twirl another man
    considerable groin nudging
    slick with mustache wax
    blush-pink bobbing
    white-spotted finish

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      a paroxysm of coughing, the dry heave*, untimely and unconscious,
      the mind can’t stop the body doing its thing –
      – she stood at the memorial and coughed
      all in black
      falling backwards –
      she coughed,
      a paroxysm of excuses
      the smell of something,
      medicinal, a balm? a poultice ?
      underarm sweat

      a doctor on late night television discusses the symptoms of the malaise

      white spots spotted in the corner
      before the demise

      *in a film, blood specks in a pristine white handkerchief,
      days of cholera
      days of the black lung
      – a cough, embarrassment then death

      Like

    • eatmorewords

      no silent fridge all machines hum – a low level annoyance
      static throb always there so that you don’t realise it’s there –
      stuck at that developmental stage
      unable to move on
      laughing at poop

      Like

    • eatmorewords

      I spent the morning listening to songs about sex and death –
      the other day I fainted in the cinema foyer –
      in an air conditioned supermarket
      I had an existentialist crisis in an aisle of mayonnaise –
      too many choices and to much colour
      i dropped my basket and fled
      down the aisle
      down the hallway and through the cobbled lanes

      I hummed the last song I heard and threw my wallet in the bin and headed for the trees forgetting all my passwords

      at the edge of my skin
      swimming in blood
      still orbiting a phone that no longer rings

      Like

    • eatmorewords

      difficult to sleep last night
      the rain came down like bullets
      , like millions of full stops dropping on to the pavement, the rain seeping into clay, the
      petrichor
      – my neighbours sat up and watched the lighting while their dog howled

      – my attempts to move between existence and non-existence hasnt been successful

      Like

  7. multiplemichael

    there was quite a strut today in the exercise yard
    cat-footed, tightly muscled homosexuals
    men who placed value on Scandinavian youth
    no love for vulva limbo or the tides and torrents
    blood on the bed, on the floor, in the bathroom
    a spar of amusement—is it enough ?

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      my grandfather said money was paper covered in germs –
      the metal tokens in his pockets jingle jangled –
      – imagine future kids looking at paper money!!! – oh how they will laugh when all money is nonexistent
      – either numbers on screens
      – or everything will collapse and people will barter —
      •food for shoes
      •clothes for old REM albums

      during the war the wheelbarrows that carried the money was more than the money it contained

      X rayed money loses it values

      Like

    • eatmorewords

      dirty fingered tokens
      paper money covered in drugs
      – under the underbelly, inside the shadow
      – imprints of failed plans,
      try and list all the things money can’t buy*
      – under the underbelly and in the undertow, drowning, maybe
      – banks as palaces
      things sold here and there
      what is the street value of those words in your pocket?

      *i am still thinking

      Like

  8. multiplemichael

    I turned on the flashlight
    and felt humiliated
    all eyes open to the ridiculous
    CLUES—just simple clues
    the sweet smell of darkness
    informed blindness
    ———————————-
    ( life starts with larger denominations )
    ——( no time for $10s or $20s )——-
    exaggerated orchestra boys
    candies in a holiday bag
    a mouthful but little else

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      I don’t need a flashlight to feel humiliated
      I have a mirror
      I have seen myself naked
      – breaking the bigger denominations into smaller pieces*-
      – I have carried things over the border – ( living an exaggerated life- living a shallow existence through strangers Facebook updates ) –
      pathetic little worm, a target for baby bird,
      – where are you now?
      – WHERE ARE YOU NOW?

      in a quiet European city centre a pigeon poops on a fat mans expensive suit

      *harder to carry but it makes me feel more important THE MAN WITH BAG
      THE MAN WITH SOMETHING IN HIS BAG

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        THE BIRTHDAY PARTY TURNED WEIRD
        when the groom told everyone his birthday wish
        “that the vaginal walls of his wife would be corduroy lined”
        —————the gulf between a husband and a wife
        plateaus of contentment
        and then deterioration
        the slow slide
        from top to bottom
        ****big breeches

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        double denim is fine, a certain chic
        – corduroy just creates frictions
        vaginal spark
        bush fire burns the wishes –
        scorched from the centre
        – tablets will not elevate this itch
        (it’s always better to use you imagination)

        Like

    • eatmorewords

      43 journals stored here there and there and here and behind sofas and inside chimney stacks and buried with relatives that died in the big fire and the Curie house is still for sale
      – the flashlights of the old folk dim

      Like

    • eatmorewords

      the ice cream siren wails and he serves headaches to grubby kids with tokens in sweaty palms –
      limbs harvested from the disenfranchised
      – heaps on the street
      – the dead in piles
      – the rain wets the cardboard boxes
      Mummy, it’s all connected and it’s all collapsing

      Like

  9. multiplemichael

    SHE wasn’t really a waitress
    more like counter help
    a certain craftiness
    to handing out coffee
    SHE was a member of homo Americanus
    a pilgrim apprentice
    not interested in the words on the street
    the gray or the dirty —anything waggling
    two hits on the head with a mallet
    frayed seams on the religious

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    • eatmorewords

      a counter help at the edge of the future
      – skin, bone and fingerprints inside oversized clothes –
      a fleeting interest in the words of others
      written on the walls
      written by planes in the sky

      an apprentice learning their trade

      pilgrims arriving on boats infested with worms
      – yesterday was gray and dirty

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        the counter help lady
        asked why I looked so scraggly
        that I looked uprooted and starved
        SHE offered to breastfeed me back to health
        fellow coffee-hounds suffered suspension of disbelief
        it is often easy to twist people out of shape
        “to mystify” is one of the letters of the law

        Like

  10. multiplemichael

    POETRY WRITTEN IN A SHANTY FRAME OF MIND
    EXAGGERATED POVERTY—NO FORKS AND ONLY 2 SPOONS
    INCONSISTENCIES
    some say the baby was shriveled and dead
    others say the infant was healthy and happy
    I saw it fly out the car window like superman
    a discomforting medley of silence
    on the way home

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    • eatmorewords

      babies of all sizes are useless for the first few months – heads to big
      weak spines like an old book
      – pissing shitting machines –
      inconsistencies in the DNA

      – she tried to throw it from the window but forgot to wind the window down –

      later that night they laughed at the scene while the baby slept dreaming boring dreams

      Like

    • eatmorewords

      the peephole was greasy and obscured the view of the dancing girls
      – immediate needs and Maslow’s hierarchy of needs
      •psychological
      •safety
      •love / belonging
      •esteem
      •self actualisation

      I researched myself and couldn’t find the clues
      not one stone was left unturned but I got lost in the geography

      Like

  11. multiplemichael

    LOOKING OUT THE KITCHEN WINDOW
    I can see the curse of Cain and fallen men
    what is the chief ingredient in our downfall ?
    patterns of wandering and extreme loneliness
    outcasts and poets lacking carefree enjoyment
    the serpent in the brain, the serpent down below

    Like

  12. multiplemichael

    sleeping on hundreds of copies of the National Tattler
    —–serial murderers and serial poets
    school children pointing flashlights
    in front of them— a necropolis of prose
    how much can they read ?
    blubbery people on the internet
    ****profound and virtuoso vulgarity

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    • eatmorewords

      blubbery people with lukewarm warms
      – cliche’d lines and inspirational quotes over National Geographic mountains – THE FIRST WORD IN CANT IT CAN –
      – the WordPress hierarchy, a
      hack writer with 1582 followers

      I wipe the vulgarity away

      Like

  13. multiplemichael

    it was called poetry
    possibly “dialogue” from a cheap romance novel
    where the bride and the groom
    had amusement-park sex
    in a bedroom full of Hustler magazine props
    butter-buns and other shameful tussles

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    • eatmorewords

      those cheap novels full of outdated dialogue
      romance novels for the dead
      images to arouse
      I shut the door
      I left the room
      – at the amusement park stuck at the top of the rollercoaster just enjoying the view and counting the seconds it would take a Hustler magazine to hit the ground
      – shameful behaviour of the appointed few

      Like

  14. multiplemichael

    surprised to see a trough of poets in the library
    people complaining
    “the poets root up everything good”
    ———————————————-
    cut-throat hungry for words
    wield a knife…….. a crowbar
    bullet trajectories and the open crotch
    continual refinement of pleasure calls
    the back streets with disease and decay
    to obtain satisfaction
    libidinal pleasure
    a young strong field horse
    with the apparatus of Adam
    practically nothing but balls and dong
    EROTICIZING SPIDER PILLS
    the line grows shorter
    with “job well done”
    ****often from beauty-parlor attendants

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    • eatmorewords

      the cut throat nature of the men in suits
      more dangerous then atomic bombs – death from a distance
      on a video conference call
      – a force field of bureaucracy and secretaries with secrets

      spider pills offered at the entrance – addicted Adam at the start

      Like

  15. multiplemichael

    butter-buns and other shameful tussles
    self-abasement and simulated madness
    excursions into narrative
    appropriate recipients
    purring on spider pills
    ****blindfolded readers employ the sense of smell
    the poet with his expensive answering machine
    missing words
    maimed—mutilated
    preserved in jelly jars

    Like

  16. multiplemichael

    poetry becomes the poet calling himself
    to see if he is available
    ——————————
    “HELLO, I’M NOT HOME RIGHT NOW…”
    ——————————
    lacking retention of the past
    masochistic poetry, essentially masochistic
    an answering machine with an air-sniffer

    Like

  17. multiplemichael

    WOULD IT BE POSSIBLE TO MOVE TO THE FRONT OF THE LINE ?
    ———–the day the poet paid to be lobotomized
    put away the crossword puzzles
    pull out the coloring book
    58 crayons all the same color
    (crayons and nostalgia in a glass of ice tea)

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      I moved to the front of the line simply because everyone took two steps back

      – I wasn’t aware of my surroundings –

      – I wasn’t aware of the time –

      she ate the crayons and her teeth changed colour –

      for a cheap lobotomy I just just choose to forgot and I remove the line from the crossword puzzle so the page is just a mass of words scattered across the page like stars

      Like

  18. multiplemichael

    a percentage of feminine
    a percentage of masculine
    outward manifestations
    attentiveness
    (no one said a word—it was like a graveyard picnic)
    the poet secretly sniffed his index finger
    fresh Pinocchio

    Like

  19. multiplemichael

    risky business feeding crayons to women
    once the feet change color
    one might be girdled with barbed wire
    guilt-soaked punishment
    social humiliation
    other poets will not run away
    they will try to gouge out emotional tidbits
    words to float in their poetry

    Like

      • multiplemichael

        a grilled cheese and crayon sandwich
        blue blood and rainbow scat
        dog poop judged by size and color
        the smell of the paintings in the museum
        anal exam questions:
        will there be criticism ?
        is the pump automatic ?

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the painting smells would dwindle
        trapped behind glass with fingerprint smudges – gazed at by a million eyes
        – dog poop stuck in the grip of sparkling white trainers

        (the pump is controlled from a distance)

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