Thanks to Brenton from Haymaker Records for capturing this special moment of rock ‘n roll poetry.
Author: majormattusa
The pale light through this dirty window Makes everything on the other side
Look like old phots from the 1970’s
Ohm Radha Krishnaya Namaha
Do you suffer in your new life
Is it fair to blame that empty bottle
You threw out the car window
On you last day
In high school
Ohm Radha Krishnaya Namaha
There is Blonde on Blonde light
Coming through the window
It causes all the crumbs on the table
To move to the foreground
Ohm Radha Krishnaya Namaha
It’s a Bob Dylan kind of light
Like you don’t want to smell
This light’s breath
Ohm Radha Krishna Namaha
I can’t expect you to understand me
When I said that everything
Is perfect but it is
We can always always always always
Start again
Addicted to running
To hearing every voice
The ringing is a ghost
Of love
Telephones that took our time
We used to attach ourselves
To common things
Smuggling in new light
Arrowsmith Trans Am REM
Now we distort the stolen titles
Fighting the grinder of spellcheck
The cold hard algorithms
Softening us up with baby talk
Google Twitter YouTube Paypal
We spent weeks in the woods
With a single token collect call
Spoke of my latest badges of merit
Or how many bug bites I had sustained
Even then I had very little desire to talk
Luckily there is no deadline for love
No such thing as too much love
Flowers are telephones
They like to be admired
They love to be loved
And they love you
Girl in a wheelchair at the airport
Thank you for sharing with me
Your beautiful ballet in outer space
I fell in love with you at first sight
For a moment I thought you were a boy
It felt like it happened
Almost without thinking
Why did I do that
The shoes gave it away
Why do we need that
They were pink
From above clouds can look like
Skin under a microscope
The surface of another planet
Or the old standby cotton balls
The fabric of our lives
If I’m honest it was the hair that
First got my attention
The way it hung in your eyes
Like saying look at me
I can’t see you
Okay maybe it was the wheelchair too
I don’t know which came first
In this chicken or egg world
But I just wanted to thank
Thank you for the dance
I understand the sound of my voice
May cause you to prefer
The company of wolves
But my voice is my voice
The similarities it has with others
Are the beautiful work of life
In you I see the reshaping
Of a myth with science
That tells me that you were not
Once a part of me
That I was once a part of you
And at this moment
A new myth forms
Like morning light
Abandoning the dark night
All
These old feelings
Like books
And grand sailing ships
Clear windows of glass
To new worlds
Now something different
Heavy chains around my neck
Running through sand
Disguising the path
Inspired by the whip
Of totally different worlds
Not great but perfect
Sometimes I need to hold you
Like a baby holding a baby
The sun is not up yet
You make me pay
You make me pay
The rain brings out the forest smells
Kids are walking to school in it
The dog barks at them from inside
Every day
There is so much more to learn
To burn away
We are climbing mountains on our knees
Building bridges with match sticks
The castle walls are waffle cones
Do they all know how similar we are?
How hard it is for love
To age
As American kids our lives were
Governed by burning cigarettes
Trips to the liquor store
We were so excited about our boredom
Analyzing every breath
Like it was starving
In a war torn country
Failing to convince our parents
Of things
We were right
The look of a squirrel
Is the same as forty thousand
Screaming fans
How does the dog understand the light
How could I know
This is the old man
I would be
Open Poetry presented by 8th St. Publishing Guild 1 year party / Sat. Nov. 17 @ Revolution Records (KC, MO)
It’s the one year anniversary of the Open Poetry readings at Revolution Records. We’re going to celebrate with several featured readers, an open mic, free wine, & a very special announcement from 8th St. Publishing Guild & Revolution Records. You definitely don’t want to miss this one! Open to all.
Featured readers will include Matt Roth, Evan Thomas, & Patrick Sanders
Revolution Records Kansas City
1830 Locust St, Kansas City, Missouri 64108
7-9pm
FB Event
8th St. Publishing Guild is a Kansas City-based publisher of avant-garde/surrealist poetics. We love submissions. To submit or learn more, visit us online or come to meet us in person at our monthly readings.
https://www.8thstreetpublishing.com/
Go, Kansas.
You can call it a blue wave. You can call it a pink wave. You can call it every color in the rainbow. Being a landlocked state we don’t talk a lot about waves in Kansas. But for the first time since I moved back here, nearly 6 years ago, I feel good about my political representation in Congress and for Governor. Last night the congressional district that I live in elected Sharice Davids: the first female, openly gay, Native American congresswoman. And that is really fun to say!
We also elected female democratic Laura Kelly for governor. We dodged a bullet in that race and I’m sorry to say this is probably not the last you’ve seen of her opponent Kris Kobach (Trump has already offered him a job in his administration). But we’ve sent a message: that the majority of us in Kansas do not agree with his divisive opinions about voter fraud and the proliferation of guns.
I’m not saying that we don’t have a long way to go in changing the optics of our state. Racially motivated shootings, rigged polling locations, and maybe the worst governor in the history of the world are all part of our recent history. But they are not the whole story.
I like to think of this election as a big log on the fire of a slowly growing light. Hopefully, this light will eventually grow big enough to show the rest of the world, what I’ve had the chance to see over the course of the past six years living in the Kansas City area. It’s a lot harder to change things from the inside out. And you can’t be more middle-America than Kansas. But there are a lot of beautiful, talented, and inspiring people around here.
So, go Kansas. Good job! Let’s take some time to celebrate and appreciate the work we’ve done. Then let’s get back out there and keep showing the world that the truest voices aren’t always the loudest or most shocking, that in our hearts we all want the same stuff and that the world is made for all the colors in the rainbow.
Sister Halloween – 10/12/18 @ The Rino (KC, MO) #poetry
Dipping my fingers into a bowl of wet grapes
I have no idea where this is going
Do you remember that Halloween
The neighbors did a haunted house
They said that you were dead
But it was just a trick
So you could show up later as a ghost
I spoiled it by believing them
And ran home crying to Mom
But you came after me
Your face was painted white
You told me that it wasn’t real
That you weren’t really dead
And that it was just a
Scary story for Halloween
I went back into the house
I touched the peeled grapes in the dark
They told me they were eyeballs
I knew they weren’t
But it was fun to pretend
When I saw you with the neighbor
Pale and not moving in a giant play pen
I knew you weren’t really dead
But you shouted Boo I…
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