The Neighbors
Who’s bowling up there?
I’m not a radically conservative square
Who doesn’t like a party but I do believe
At three a.m. my sanctuary should be silent
Not the pounding fist of belligerence
With mop handle brooms poking holes
In my ceiling
Every night my neighbors chew my glass
Skull with their teeth on a microphone,
Recite Lou Reed’s metal machine music
In the voice of a shrieking cat,
Weld shut their children’s braced teeth
While they mumble and scream
Warriors chipping at my walls above for
Revenge— nothing seems to curtail
Their all night orgies of fascist trampling
Over my beleaguered eyelids that would
Like to remain shut until 6 a.m. at least,
So I can do my yoga without rupturing
Tiny holes in my stomach or passing
Out until my bicycle while parking
And because they don’t stop
I must get old-school-acme-cartoon
Explosion on their asses-maybe they’ll
Think its drug induced and they will turn
Into a basket of stars scattered in the cosmos
Ready to explode, as you will stand outside smiling
As the building cookie crumbles to the ground
In a swath of dust and blindness, and realize you
Have taken it too far and now have no home to
Return to…
by Micah Zevin 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
Comittment ?
Commitment
Sanities kernels are
Popped out of popcorn-makers
Mouth until they transform
Tiny brown bastard seeds
Burnt, pre-buttered in small
Piles of the scattered and failed,
As you fail each day to complete
Grading your examinations,
Writing poems, paying bills
Simply vegetating on sinking
Leather couches, perusing
Newspapers bold headlines
To extract some words
And operate on your brain
Requires some deliberation
Sanities kernels are
Popped out of popcorn-makers
Mouth until they transform
Tiny brown bastard seeds
Burnt, pre-buttered in small
Piles of the scattered and failed,
As you fail each day to complete
Grading your examinations,
Writing poems, paying bills
Simply vegetating on sinking
Leather couches, perusing
Newspapers bold headlines
To extract some words
And operate on your brain
Requires some deliberation
The Humpty Dumpty Dilemma
The Humpty Dumpty Dilemma
When he is patient and keeps his mouth shut
a canary falls out and sings a song
When the hustling game of cards begins creative juices
Pelt his mind with purple bruises and beer bellies
When he sinks below the horizon he is in debt
To no one (in particular)
When he hears that the orgasms are silent
At the Tiffany parade and that people wade in mud puddles
Like ducks trying to cross the street or a tiny pond
He is so flabbergasted that he decides to terrorize himself,
Blow him-self up into tiny little bits just to see
If he could put himself back together again
The Question being would he even want to?
Would it be worth the trouble?
by Micah Zevin December 2009
When he is patient and keeps his mouth shut
a canary falls out and sings a song
When the hustling game of cards begins creative juices
Pelt his mind with purple bruises and beer bellies
When he sinks below the horizon he is in debt
To no one (in particular)
When he hears that the orgasms are silent
At the Tiffany parade and that people wade in mud puddles
Like ducks trying to cross the street or a tiny pond
He is so flabbergasted that he decides to terrorize himself,
Blow him-self up into tiny little bits just to see
If he could put himself back together again
The Question being would he even want to?
Would it be worth the trouble?
by Micah Zevin December 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
Manhattan
Manhattan
Blackened hands tear apart packets
Of sugar before heavy fists knock
It from your hands and onto the ground
Like a sprinkling of cocaine dust that
The addict will follow, a drug crazed
Hansel and Gretel on the trail of the
Next dealer. The tongue is incinerated
At the factory where everyone’s dreams
Turn into ashes. Under the highways
Rusting arches a bum lights the cars
On fire for warmth and has a dialogue
With the engine parts, the leaking
Burning gasoline, seagulls overheard
Preparing to scavenge what is left
Of you when injuries bludgeon and
You can no longer hail passing cars.
Giant monarch butterflies are listening
To your ghost stories hanging off the edge
Of rusted garbage cans as your various
Homeless brethren congregate and are
Reminded that there was something before
This, perhaps, entirely different: librarians,
Street vendors, hustlers who tire of the chase,
Warning the night of its inertias, no more retaliation
Or parts in disrepair placed on the disabled list
Where before there were suits and briefcases,
Secretaries, who knew where and when you
Were traveling, not necessarily when you’d be
Returning, or if you were dead or alive until
There was no sign of you or no calls from the
Other side of the concrete island
by Micah Zevin 2009
one of the poems read at my recent Kiva Cafe Reading
see a post below for the video link.
Blackened hands tear apart packets
Of sugar before heavy fists knock
It from your hands and onto the ground
Like a sprinkling of cocaine dust that
The addict will follow, a drug crazed
Hansel and Gretel on the trail of the
Next dealer. The tongue is incinerated
At the factory where everyone’s dreams
Turn into ashes. Under the highways
Rusting arches a bum lights the cars
On fire for warmth and has a dialogue
With the engine parts, the leaking
Burning gasoline, seagulls overheard
Preparing to scavenge what is left
Of you when injuries bludgeon and
You can no longer hail passing cars.
Giant monarch butterflies are listening
To your ghost stories hanging off the edge
Of rusted garbage cans as your various
Homeless brethren congregate and are
Reminded that there was something before
This, perhaps, entirely different: librarians,
Street vendors, hustlers who tire of the chase,
Warning the night of its inertias, no more retaliation
Or parts in disrepair placed on the disabled list
Where before there were suits and briefcases,
Secretaries, who knew where and when you
Were traveling, not necessarily when you’d be
Returning, or if you were dead or alive until
There was no sign of you or no calls from the
Other side of the concrete island
by Micah Zevin 2009
one of the poems read at my recent Kiva Cafe Reading
see a post below for the video link.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Micah Zevin reading at the Kiva Cafe November 5
This link below is footage of me and a Mr. Mills reading at the Kiva Cafe, along with other poets, on November 5th, 2009 at 8p.m...Poems associated with the reading will soon be posted on this site. So enjoy everyone....
hi ho!
MZ
http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=176622788098&saved#/video/video.php?v=176622788098&ref=mf
hi ho!
MZ
http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=176622788098&saved#/video/video.php?v=176622788098&ref=mf
Thursday, August 13, 2009
At The Laundromat
At the Laundromat
As you swirl around
Pacing the hours on
Calloused feet
The temple serves hot
Fudged ice-cream sundaes
Savor, become a glutton to
Its gut wrenching punishments
This life burgeons your vocabulary
Like yeast rising
Into baked bread
You must go forward
Do not leak bullshit
Onto the suede carpet
Put it in a glass jar, extra grease
Skimmed from soup pot tops
To be used later
And stew
by Micah Zevin 2009
The Video Version of this poem can be viewed at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L1F_KdHkUG4
As you swirl around
Pacing the hours on
Calloused feet
The temple serves hot
Fudged ice-cream sundaes
Savor, become a glutton to
Its gut wrenching punishments
This life burgeons your vocabulary
Like yeast rising
Into baked bread
You must go forward
Do not leak bullshit
Onto the suede carpet
Put it in a glass jar, extra grease
Skimmed from soup pot tops
To be used later
And stew
by Micah Zevin 2009
The Video Version of this poem can be viewed at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L1F_KdHkUG4
Monday, August 10, 2009
The Drywall Situation
The Drywall Situation
Poisonous vespers intrude on camouflaged
Skin layers cracking backwards as if ready to peel
Not constructed for an onslaught of callousness
Or decay at humans doing a job on each other,
Contracted out, conjuring illusions of separation,
They carry crickets on their shoulders
For the remainder of the night as mists deterioration
Seals your fate; and it’s so easy to step all over your centipede self
As you are pummeling, stifling and choking me
I smoke you early every morning as you drone some
Slick pasty advice, not actually advice but a negotiation for a raise
Spreading diseased clouds out of new windows onto your horizon
By Micah Zevin 2009
See the VIDEO version of This Poem at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xB3w6IAYYiY
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Modern Times
Modern Times
Our foods bombastic displays
Are being processed indiscreetly
Again, against our palates
Sticky silly putty potions
Gelatinous lumps coalescing
Into our split personalities
Supposed identities
Poisonous arrays of reaction
At the counter-reaction terminus
We shop at trampled-upon
Media frenzies, laid-to-rest sunny-
Side-down over HDTV’s, bulk
Toilet paper cereal sales
The false cover of saving ourselves
From the dollar’s demagoguery
Drowned terrorists, consumers,
Will pack together like queued
Up jackrabbits to purchase
What they think is required
Of them to live outside tainted
Fingers, obsessed by touch
Screen music boxes searching,
Listening only to what shuffles
Its random rambling odes into
Our waxen ears
Everything in front of us has been
Manipulated
by Micah Zevin 2009
Check out the Video version of this poem at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gTAHt8BOodA
Thx MZ
Our foods bombastic displays
Are being processed indiscreetly
Again, against our palates
Sticky silly putty potions
Gelatinous lumps coalescing
Into our split personalities
Supposed identities
Poisonous arrays of reaction
At the counter-reaction terminus
We shop at trampled-upon
Media frenzies, laid-to-rest sunny-
Side-down over HDTV’s, bulk
Toilet paper cereal sales
The false cover of saving ourselves
From the dollar’s demagoguery
Drowned terrorists, consumers,
Will pack together like queued
Up jackrabbits to purchase
What they think is required
Of them to live outside tainted
Fingers, obsessed by touch
Screen music boxes searching,
Listening only to what shuffles
Its random rambling odes into
Our waxen ears
Everything in front of us has been
Manipulated
by Micah Zevin 2009
Check out the Video version of this poem at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gTAHt8BOodA
Thx MZ
Monday, July 20, 2009
The Altar (A Times Square Poetic Affair)
The Altar
And the sky will grow dark but not go out
The omnipresent neon signs
That never switches off, extinguishes
Or exits in this carnival of skyscraper mirrors, fried foods
Fast ecstasies, jumbo TVs, they advertise the world
Endless crowds and their information
Tight wire act texting spellbound myths into
The electronic divide
At celebrations ball, multicolored, multidimensional
Instruments no longer line up for the latest Broadway hits
YouTube, Facebook video hi-jinks
Forever leaving a trail on the web
Of not so silent tongues ready to scream
At Times Square, where once a year
Everyone’s voice is heard…
By Micah Zevin 2009
And the sky will grow dark but not go out
The omnipresent neon signs
That never switches off, extinguishes
Or exits in this carnival of skyscraper mirrors, fried foods
Fast ecstasies, jumbo TVs, they advertise the world
Endless crowds and their information
Tight wire act texting spellbound myths into
The electronic divide
At celebrations ball, multicolored, multidimensional
Instruments no longer line up for the latest Broadway hits
YouTube, Facebook video hi-jinks
Forever leaving a trail on the web
Of not so silent tongues ready to scream
At Times Square, where once a year
Everyone’s voice is heard…
By Micah Zevin 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
(Christmas) Nightmare of the odd variety...
(Christmas) Nightmare
The Teddy Bear ornament with three heads
is staring at me with its contented plaster smile
like I am a bowl of oatmeal and it is going
to steal me away to its cave, no!, not for a cup of
egg nog, but to gnaw on my chewy bones by an
open fire, and share me with the bear cubs
who will silence my screams and bury
my bones with my memories,
under a large pine tree
somewhere off the highway...
by Micah Zevin (2009)
The Teddy Bear ornament with three heads
is staring at me with its contented plaster smile
like I am a bowl of oatmeal and it is going
to steal me away to its cave, no!, not for a cup of
egg nog, but to gnaw on my chewy bones by an
open fire, and share me with the bear cubs
who will silence my screams and bury
my bones with my memories,
under a large pine tree
somewhere off the highway...
by Micah Zevin (2009)
Thursday, February 19, 2009
If only it could take us higher...?!!!
Anxiety
The dollars in your pocket have been
Transformed into Chinese Paper Mache
Stars of origami shaped into airplanes
And thrown into the silent sea to perish
In these low times, it would be nice
To get high—
by Micah Zevin 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
The past brings back memories in the present...
Abandonment
In sunglasses and baseball cap
She enters, her cane ahead of her
Purple and white sun dress. She sits
In front of the computer and enters her
Number.
“When I was young I wanted to be a
Veterinarian. I use to work with animals
I’d like to take that pit-bull home. He’s been
Outside for hours and seems so melancholy”
When we open the doors the next day
She is the first in line. She points toward
The empty food dish with wrinkled finger
She looks as sad as the pit-bull before
Animal control came take him away.
by Micah Zevin 2009
In sunglasses and baseball cap
She enters, her cane ahead of her
Purple and white sun dress. She sits
In front of the computer and enters her
Number.
“When I was young I wanted to be a
Veterinarian. I use to work with animals
I’d like to take that pit-bull home. He’s been
Outside for hours and seems so melancholy”
When we open the doors the next day
She is the first in line. She points toward
The empty food dish with wrinkled finger
She looks as sad as the pit-bull before
Animal control came take him away.
by Micah Zevin 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Does Purity Exist?
At the Market
The women looked stern
All had bunions and were going to sue
They wrinkled up their faces and shook
Their collective heads not willing to speak
She did not ask them anything else
She was always working on her virginity
At the church house where he lived
Although she did not want to marry
The devils would come out at night
Criticizing and admiring their carved chests
The dye in their hair was greasy
The women removed all their rich clothes
Then arranging their hair in various knots
And fringes—
by Micah Zevin 2009
The women looked stern
All had bunions and were going to sue
They wrinkled up their faces and shook
Their collective heads not willing to speak
She did not ask them anything else
She was always working on her virginity
At the church house where he lived
Although she did not want to marry
The devils would come out at night
Criticizing and admiring their carved chests
The dye in their hair was greasy
The women removed all their rich clothes
Then arranging their hair in various knots
And fringes—
by Micah Zevin 2009
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