11-25-09

everything starts to feel the same

small spaces with nothing to say

can't stop fiddling with my keys

dig the lighthouse before it's extinct

no five word poems, george!...duh!

listening to albums from high school

forget having to wake up early

eternal, maternal, fraternal! the colonel kernal

these curtains are really very nice

two people here wear striped shirts

what is the point, you fuckers

red and yellow hat groovy groovy

today was a very good day

this poem has only six words

that poem has only six words

- kitty, jesse, george, & joyce

10-10-09

play me something really fucking loud

don't remember what control feels like

always hanging out under the surface

I hate when clothes stretch out

who told you to stop eating

I have no problems with you

who are these people near me

dropping existentialism too much in conversation

I fear forgetting meanings of words

someone help me buy new boots

I want concise economy of words

while talking it's like you're vomiting

how many songs can I write

name emotions like pointing to them

somehow the wine glasses become empty

drink more when you don't think

I am tired of helping people

maybe I don't ever help people

pronounce words weird when you sing

might be squirrels in the walls

how do you get squirrels out

there's so many fucking squirrels everywhere

squirrels are cute sometimes I guess

but not inside the fucking walls

- joyce

monday morning narrative

every morning I play the radio

I appreciate my morning jacket songs

yawning during second cup of coffee

like two would ever be enough

early bedtimes don't seem to work

wonder if my hemoglobin is low

my boss often disappears for hours

eating mrs. fields butter toffee popcorn

I eat whatever free gifts come

just spend $150 on office supplies

I think you have bipolar disorder

or maybe you're just on drugs

cried last night watching a documentary

it was about a 15-year-old kid

jumped out a window; committed suicide

after composing pros and cons list

the score ended up being even

they had taken him off lithium

I do not think it's fair

wish every day we started over

- joyce @ work

August 4, 2009

I am Hank Williams' bristled beard

i find manicotti to be inedible

sit. stare. click click drag drag.

her mouth wraps around her face

it feels like 1000 purring kittens

Pablo stares and no one cares

he is, no doubt, a virgin

putting the smile on and on

i tripped over your deflated ego

we are all going to hell

july 21, 2009

that's a lot of blueberry goop

it's been raining, streets are wet

overhearing conversations I know nothing about

the boys left down rainy streets

someone sat here before I did

thrift store searching, no better discoveries

green fields hidden on penthouse roofs

your cleavage distracts me quite well

not sure there are greener pastures

to be insecure is very 2008

high-speed trains shuttle; everything direct linked

we appreciate bar music drowning conversation

we've been here before, running madly

we've seen these buildings swallow sunlight

city memories consume every single street

we've been here before, perfectly still

nights meant for sleeping, spent manic

kitty susan lizz @ the pourhouse on 11th and 3rd

July 26, 2009

the creek is wind in trees

six word line poem

when I call up my mother
she tells me not to worry
but I still do, always do
I hang up the phone, seething
I make some instant black coffee
sit outside in our screened-in porch
realizing an affinity for square-edged objects
things that come in box shapes
like books and packs of cigarettes
things that occupy a definitive space
and I think of my mother
at home in her living room
trying to keep things so simple
condensing all events down to facts
for the comfort of definitive structures

- joyce, on my porch

7/24/09

three couples all touching each other

he chugs a high-alcohol content beer

a phone call intercepted by screaming

flame flickers amidst liquid wax, waning

closing my eyes against his shoulder

ugly girl sleeps with the bartender

this bar boasts: no poetry allowed

can't hear. loud bar. text me.

obnoxious boy asking me for keys

man wearing a floral sun hat

writing six-word poems instead of talking

can't hear what anyone is saying

biting the skin around my fingernails

social outing becomes confused and isolating

gonna erase you with my head

hey zed, my boyfriend is here

hey jesse, do the monkey face

bar poet looks like a loser

I hope you're falling in love

men more attractive in the dark

your words are muffled by screams

judging you by your juke-box choices

singing "take a load off fanny..."

you're cute. you look very similar.

have never noticed these blue shades

strangers with all the same agendas

strange looking hair-do makes you intriguing

doesn't know what he's getting into

where is he going to sit

this girl's hair keeps touching me

that guy's collar is seriously popped

no matter how loud it gets

six words are not enough to ...

yer pretty hard to understand, love

one, two, three, four, five, ten

santa claus is kind of sexy

blind people are creepy as cher

thought bubbles aren't really that TRUE

white booty shorts in my face

we are destroying your poet book

yer poet book is DESTROYIN' ME!

yer destroying is poet book me?

everything's part of holy soviet history

beer that tastes like apple juice

are you depressed or just asleep?

- joyce, kitty & jesse, @ effin gruven

July 20, 2009

Bad breath, but coffee's still good

sometimes lyrics are counted and become applicable. I fight the urge to make posts like this daily.

I never meant to hurt you

by elliott smith

July 18, 2009

baby blue button-up, tucked in

paradoxically, I never knew the land

july 16, 2009

a door no one has used

upside down boxes from greener pastures

flies are swarming into one another

an aging pile of cigarette butts

amidst the garbage strawberry bushes bloom

two men passing a skinny joint

someone is calling my name loudly

the tomato plant stretching towards sunlight

jars of used vegetable oil sweating

conversation with men two yards away

accidental backyard group of sorts developing

nodding in response to something unheard

those things will kill you. hopefully.

written behind the restaurant at work

July 16th, 2009

I fell in love again today

last night was heart attack weather

july 15, 2009

lenny kravitz is half a jew

you did not go to RPI

he could have gone to RPI

my life is becoming a joke

her beer has arrived, she's happy

sometimes we're happy when we're not

half of you don't look twenty-one

the offspring's on, that's always good

vegan meat eaters in the corner

a woman too tan to hide

a questionably homosexual pair touching knees

one time you drank irish coffee

offspring's still playing, this is life

bar is crowded. where's my burger!?

two old men pointing at me

you have an eyebrow. singular. eyebrow.

they probably think we are lesbians

I wish elliott smith was here

elliott smith was probably a jerk

he'd stick us with the bill

I do not agree with that

we treat animals better than people

I know a lot about sharks

I tend to sympathize with sharks

chips are no one without dip

the choices we make don't matter

I don't feel good about this

we're talking about where you live

going to sleep with him tonight

we are discussing streets and avenues

I like chocolate covered rainbows, too

got to get out of here

are you depressed? you look it

done with this shit ::blows nose::

I've been counting our entire conversation

big belly lady sits at table

kitty and zed @ croxleys

7/13/09

i think of you, every day
it's so hard to be far
i write stories about walking dogs
but i think of you, always
about how it's wrong waking up,
my green sheets are too cold
two more dogs pass, more stories -
even though i don't write anymore
i lie awake, thinking of you
who writes out handwritten letters anymore?
look at my handwriting, it's shit
but i write in my mind,
letters to you i never send
stories of dogs, two more pass
i love the idea of dogs
i guess i mean to say
i think of dogs, loving them
and i think of you, always

- cameron martin

7/13/09

i think of you, every day

it's so hard to be far

i write stories about walking dogs

but i think of you, always

about how it's wrong waking up,

my green sheets are too cold

two more dogs pass, more stories -

even though i don't write anymore

i lie awake, thinking of you

who writes out handwritten letters anymore?

look at my handwriting, it's shit

but i write in my mind,

letters to you i never send

stories of dogs, two more pass

i love the idea of dogs

i guess i mean to say

i think of dogs, loving them

and i think of you, always

- cameron martin

7/13/09

where have all the poets gone?


- joyce, @ work, wants someone else to post, please

7/8/09

dusk sets in and then black

lie down and sing soft lullabies

nightlight keeps away the scary things

I hallucinate shapes made from shadows

nightlife keeps me up at night

sit and smoke and swat insects

I always want summer during winter

standard deviations make my head spin

follow the curve or you'll die

swerving out of the lane, sometimes

bumper sticker: tailgaters will be shot.

adjacent bumper sticker: violence is wrong.

another bumper sticker: beat women silly

my raging feminism radar is wailing

joyce the feminist, beat her brains

brian the misogynist, break his bones

I love you now fuck me

it all boils down to him

it all evaporates up to god

god is dead no one cares

neitzsche hates christians and loves art

sounds like someone I might know

the grass is never green, joyce

lie down, touch me, feel me

I want to feel, emptiness consumes

let's be friends and write poems.


- brian and joyce, @ work via gmail chat

7/7

biggest and blackest and most handsome

it always looked better in 1024

the furious race to benjamin's butthole

hyphenate, punctuate, and spell check, bitch

the perpetually flushing toilet in there

peeing in it is more economical

you are busy but you're happy

they share the same oily skin

who is this hairy legged intruder?

i saw the Chupacabra in Elmont

in other words, i hate him

and my freckles are probably malignant

7/7/09

please let me kill arrogant co-workers.

break my heart. just try it.

too much sunlight and no illumination

can't write poetry under the influence.

strum guitars and bang on pianos.

exaggerating your self-importance to hipster bartenders

twenty-somethings trying to induce drunken stupor

- joyce, @ work

just for kitty --

the root of all evil: beer.

07-07-09

my left hand is unequivocal; obsessed.

bricks in thunderstorm half-light, I'm cured.

golden gate! bridge my examining eyes!

I implore you. Listen. The Sound...


-michael martin

07-01-09

I am a three-layered fish whale

gotta come here with a purpose

-joyce and kitty in a car on w. olive/w. walnut

6-30-09

they looked very satisfied with themselves.

-joyce and kitty, re: scary voodoo doll truck driver on long beach road, island park, ny

06-30-09

reading from books older than her

your mood is reflected on my face

we're going to start a band

your hair line recedes too slowly

a woman who has crooked thighs

I think this pen has herpes

I think this might be infected

we have not been formally acquainted

wounds made by nails and teeth

laughing at his attachment to her

yep, trees are made of wood

the kama sutra is so fucked

it moves like a little person

sucking a mango fruit in june

everything really does make me nauseous

I feel hesitant to discuss anything

-kitty and zed @ witches brew, west hempstead, ny

6-30-09

remember that anger is your doorway

cooking meat from rawness into perfection

-joyce and susan @ witches brew, west hempstead, ny

06-29-09

there are few things worth considering

it's hard to believe reason anymore

overwhelming fear of catastrophe constantly looming

wanting to be more like you

hit it hard and with feeling

ending in a fit of flames

tolerate indifference in these morning yellows

your confidence is not apparent anymore

why can't everything always be okay

pointless poems reflect a poor mood

in a sense we're all dying

crossing streets complicates my life more

ending conversations with 'see you soon'

-kitty

6-29-09

She wrote a line of poetry.

She realized it was six words.

He is surfing on a kite.

He gets swept out to sea.

The mermaids come out to look.

Clouds part, revealing a sun-filled orifice.

He was trapped in small spaces.

I did not understand the dream.

Big men may resemble one another.

He was fine when I called.

Apple core: a seagull's only meal.

That is good, like a haiku.

The sky becomes dark and terrible.

Watch it creeping up behind us.

dark clouds hover just beyond daylight

you can take over for awhile

when clouds break we must run

she said, stop writing about rain.

- joyce and susan, @ washington blvd. beach, long beach, ny

composed 6-28-09 between 11:45 pm and 12:00 am

knows what she wants, says nothing.

how frightening to say, "I'm done."

burying herself inside, she marries him.

sirens moan outside, man closes window.

-susan

sunday sixers

suicides will always make good stories

if only I could see you

what do you want? nothing? everything?

rain falls; I cannot remember you

excuses made for wounds and wishes

if I needed it, would you?

what do you remember about yourself?

tree branches are straining and wavering

the sky is dark again, again

-joyce

06-28-09

slipping into a world unlike yours

let the distance keep us warm

saying goodnight always breaks my heart

your comedy doesn't hit me hard

nothing keeps the ego afloat anymore

dead flowers are not poetic images

hardly see daylight at all anymore

nothing like a good nicotine dream

even beer tastes different to me

-kitty and joe

06-24-09

it's almost impossible to feel anything

our convictions are without their merit

I enjoy watching strangers from afar

someone just said pocketbook, I'm uncomfortable

drunk poets sleep better than anyone

06-22-09

after midnight almost anything is possible

awaiting a man we haven't seen.

standing still, time rushes by us.

a beer too big to drink.

you're finishing your poems with periods

watching her get excited by menus

it is summer shall we barbecue?

order me a guiness if she comes.

she travels on trains going nowhere

anticipation of being on your doorstep

-kitty and joyce (moral support provided by joe), @ croxley's ale house, farmingdale, ny

06-19-09

I drink coffee, she drinks beer

your lack of hair intrigues me

still tasting last night this morning

everything about you makes me nervous

long island eateries full of douches

its always sunday night these days

cigarettes, carbs, booze: short, sweet life

she feels blue. I'm still yellow.

smoke hangs in thin midwestern skies

I wish we could smoke here

lungs are black hearts are red

get passport ready just in case

people stare as I write alone

logic whispers fears shout need therapist

03-10-09

empty glasses leave things to desire

antiseptic light breaks the fourth wall

we sit on benches in march

bars filled with unemployable twenty somethings

you went west you learned nothing

we are not creative or interesting

I feel trapped by this form

away, walking along the great wall

two letters, heavy petters M. Y.

your fingers smell like smoke, too

washed out and half there stories

apart; morning breaks as night stirs

our poems are out memoirs, poetically

toeing the line between profunfity and kitsch

it was too cold to care

my heart burns there too, sometimes

count your blessings we're all together

things like this just kill me

affirming the least sincere since 1998

try to understand the smallest ones

your poems are better than mine

you're cute your friends are cuter

pen and paper. bread and water.

english majors rarely write good poems

I can't fee the economy ...yet

you speak to strangers on sidewalks

we mispell our words, adding meaning

we slip a lot in thought

kitty laughed as she read this

honestly can these be considered poetry?

poems are answers to unasked questions

lizz and a frenchman, outside

english majors write beautiful poetry, jerk

I'll stop talking, let's just kiss

murals of men in the bathroom

I can not consider you anymore

talk to me about your heart

I'm in love with your brain

I go in your room, daily!

you're cuter when you don't laugh

meet me on the information superhighway

this is the seventh page... GO!

I don't care that you're gone

a french man brought her flowers

we talked about our love, loudly!

hi pierre. you are drunk, too.

let's pretend we're pretending it's real

my sister is kissing a frenchman

cheap woman, cheap hotel. rich life.

you're fucking up my words, woman

we've written poetry in dark bars

you read newspapers, I read stars

quit. quit. quit. quit. relapse. quit.

telling drunk men your life story

liquor writes these poems -- not us

the jobs we mostly call blow

everyone is hungry for something new

handwriting worsens as glasses pile up

we are just where we are

I wore your scarf last night

you remind me of my cat

layers and layers of gorgeous fabric

kitty's in the bathroom doing coke

looks like this page is mine

kitty can't see behind her sunglasses

cats are awesome little things, right?

we have a dinner reservation now

tell him angst isn't that cool

I'm leaving now. you can, too.

keep her in check, little sister

just NOT enough time with pierre