Sister Halloween – 10/12/18 @ The Rino (KC, MO) #poetry

Major Matt Mason USA

IMG_7628

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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Overslept 10/05/18 @ Revolution Records (KC, MO) #poetry

Major Matt Mason USA

Overslept
Awake to the birds singing
A distant siren reminds me
A previous life

I watch two squirrels
Making love in the rain
My breakfast two cookies
And a cup of coffee
Another day of failed media fasting
Another day listening
To the human screams

Is it still called oversleeping
If there no reason to be awake
This is not a reference to suicide
I hear distant thunder
Light rain on the patio awning
I leave the kitchen door open
It’s like a giant speaker
Between the outside world
Sometimes I like getting cold
Like getting warm in reverse
Sometimes the screaming
Sounds like singing

I knew there was a reason I overslept

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Post operative instructions 9/28/18 @ Inner Space Yoga (KC, MO) #poetry

Major Matt Mason USA

IMG_7418The dog communicates
Early in the morning
I think about the difference
Between a bark and a scream
I make the coffee now
I assign the meaning to my morning
It is a gift and a curse
Until it is all a gift
Om Shiva Shakti Namaha
Om Shiva Shakti Namaha
Om Shiva Shakti Namaha
My destiny awaits
But first I must
Choose the right socks
He said She said We said
We dance with ghosts
We listen for their high frequencies

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I am never alone
Swiping at the pain
Touching the dirty glass
There’s nothing new about a Coke Float
Unless it is a New Coke Float

I pull through you like a car wash
Eyes like trains
Trained eyes inspire vertigo

Dharma at Arby’s
I don’t want to know how I did today
Tell me how I found love in parking lots
We laugh at tenses
The electric wind covers conversations
With simulated randomness
I could shoot a movie
“Bring something back”
We explored galaxies from the back seat
That tree was Vietnam
The streetlamp is oxygen

I don’t need to know
The rain puts you here
The window places us and then
I unlock my bicycle and ride home

Ice

Things were working
A stiffness
Prodding you in the back
Like an old boner

Attack it with a golf club
Tennis racket, garden hose
Work with professionals

People will spend a lot
To keep an ice cube
From melting in the sun

Open micing smartphones
Podcasts about poetry
Why bother being a star
When you can just look like one?

We sat with our own thoughts
And we wrote little things
On pieces of paper
That’s what we did

We ran wild in the streets
We put coins in slots
So inefficient
So disconnected
The noises told us

The land is our ocean

There are no beaches
In this town. No rolling waves to
Wash our un-wanteds back out to sea

Here we bury our trash
Dig it up after 48 hours
Then devour it
Slathered in barbecue sauce

No sliding foam across the sand
Or salty wind to mask the
Seagulls’ starving cries.

The sky has no competition
There is no port of entry. We
Have no way to see them coming

Things just pop up
Like grass. We cover
Them in colored blankets
And offer up a contract
Like soldiers in a war.

But there is no war. There
Is only God and weather.
And we do not fear the weather.

Like a mirror pointing outward
We long to be ourselves
In the reflection of the world
Like a painted mirror.
Like lipstick on a bowl of oatmeal

It’s the sin that makes the
Fucking so good
The sandbags of guilt that
Keep the church basement dry

Pure pure. It’s been so long.
The kind of pure you could just kill for.

We covet what we have
A peak within a valley
It’s different for cows

Flatness
The earth, canvass, the screen
It all disappears when we sleep
Even in sleep mode
We act like it’s the same
And it is

Stop looking for the real me 6/16/18 @ The Brick (KC, MO) #poetry

Major Matt Mason USA

IMG_6923 photo by Hillary Watts

I am not the man I was a minute ago
I’m not the man you think I am
I’m not the man.
I might not be
A man at all
I might not be your mother
You mother’s mother
Who might not be the man
I may have never been.

She may have been a big beautiful
Pink sky
Who opened up one day
Above a high school that
Looked like a penetentary

She may have been a dark cloud
Moving along a powerful wind
That blew a baby bird from it’s nest
Leaving it to perish on an empty sidewalk

Maybe that bird was just a thought
That formed into a question.
A question about hair…
How do I look in these jeans?
What time is it?
I can’t hear you.
Are you going to say you’re sorry?

Hearing your own voice.
Sounds like someone…

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