Show Poem: KC, MO 4/16/16

Schwervon!


Is it that important that we
Get off so easily

Every turn of a page
Every touch to a screen
Every look up from the highway

Church of metal plates
Reaping the damage

The patriotic cross

Sexual tension and rocket launchers
Men in caves with
Pizza slice hands

Spining the records
On diamond tipped needles

We scratch our way through
Another morning

Blue streaks and soft skin
On the backs of your calves

Little hairs that soften the lines
Like a hazy moon dance

Letting the crud pass easily
To the stomach
Extracting the nutrients from the waste
Gluing things back the wrong way

Stars over time will find there place
In any landscape
It’s okay

Beside the plastic
Beneth the walla of the crowd
Everything will find its place

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Show Poem: Cedar Falls, IA 4/8/16

Schwervon!


Welcome to the peep show

I’m gonna use my arm
Gonna use my legs

Gonna take it to the sofa
And hide something
Between the cushions.

Gonna walk a mile
In someone else’s upside down
Horse shoes

These shoes were made for walking
Not for walking by themselves
For finish lines

Circus clowns feed me grapes on a couch

Metallic balls hover over my eyes
They shoot arrows into my brain
Arrows of light
arrows of knowledge

Laser lies easily deflected
With my love glasses.

Marking the miles
One banana at a time

Teaching the road kill to sing
The voice of a generation
A dynasty of duck calls
One pointless snowstorm
To the next

Sun snow showers
and breathalyzers
Seeing God through the pizza clouds

The mushroom stars
And the dirty, dirty cookies

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Show Poem: Chicago, IL 4/7/16

Schwervon!

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A limitless talentless worm
Falls through our brain
Like a hot knife through butter

He’s a sky diver
The sun is his airplane
Falling through the planets

We are the worm man
Dusting off his coat and tie
Ordering a round for the locals
Squelching his tongue
between his teeth

Dead chicken on the side of the road
Sweet friends and sour beers

Waterfalls and dirt flies
Drinking piss out of shot glasses

Lot Lizzards on the prowl
Laying ruin to the most boring
Town in the world

Your back humps
Like the wood grain on a dinner table
Look under
Feel the legs buckling

No need to be rude
No need to pry
We all cry in our coiffee
Just a little

We use the grounds to mask
Our our illegal drugs
We smuggle them
across the boarder
We tie the bedsheets together
Lower ourselves from the edge
Of…

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