Archive for November, 2016

vacation plans

29 Nov





who’s to say
– it isn’t art
to bury that plastic cup
underneath the earth
a shallow grave
a representation of humanity’s effect
or some such shit, nothing sui generis, to be sure or to be late
but I have not seen spirit in artistic expression in so long
outside of music
some celluloid
a few brief words
a naked statue
and so much smoke
that’s why i wonder why i expect so much and yet
i’ve wasted at least ten years on a garbage person
that i’ve transformed into vision
in just that manner
because i thought it was
as though i was forming life, something to outlive the urn
or else something new entirely
as though that’s ever happened
yet i’m frustrated now and still want to believe again
like children’s saints and shiny things no longer underfoot
but a miserable and profitable marriage
in different ways seems a resolution for us both
like her eventually becoming a politician
despite my vote
to start a war or two
or else put some time in as a tyronic despot building ruble
blaming daddy for a lack of building blocks
back before the ocean took then dried
trust me, her armies will close in fast
most won’t be prepared
that why i’m looking just for time
for the finding of some quiet
yeah, time for that
and a new ghost to create ancient backstory for
to follow softly
as mirror becomes doorway
and we see nothing but who we truly are

first for the broken years

17 Nov



i used to think, but now she lives in woodside

this is the one that did me in
lenny’s dead, donnie’s president
and to read the post – goebbels has risen from the grave
took up an advisory role
an official propagandist job description is yet to be created
but no,
while that shit hurt – it didn’t cripple
(or at least for no longer than a week – i still have my records and my agoraphobia to soothe me)
the thing that did me in
was woodside
i came
i bought some purple roses
a drink to even out my nerves
obviously, i was in need of some lower case preparation
to tell you all the things you missed
it’s been a while
i wanted to talk to you about my plans
they’ve become varicolored and quite alive
our past
and how i can make you happy
i wanted to listen
to hear you, anything, just anything
to watch your eyes
to kiss you
as though three years didn’t pass
and lenny didn’t die last week
and we didn’t have cause to be ashamed of our country again
but alas
i left the roses by the door
you never heard my ringing bell
you never called to say i’m sorry either
for you or for the world
(and that’s not to say that our romantic genocide ever ought to be polite)
but this, this was the one that did me in
and now…

Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings

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