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
Friday, December 11, 2009
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
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