Love

Addicted to running 

/ majormattusa

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

Show Poem: We crawl for the love… July 03/ Baltimore, MD /The Wind Up Space #SchwervonPoetry

/ schwervon

Schwervon!


Woken by dogs again
The ache creeps in
Like light through
A crack under the door
Or a cat under the bed

The only skin I see
Are your henna tatoos hands
But you drive like Mad Max lady
And that keeps me in your
Rear view mirror

Bananas and blue berries
Chatting with old friends
Love is choosing
Love is choosing us
Reflecting our reflectors
Reconnecting out connectors

We laugh at less and enjoy more
Soprano sax phone ringers
Moon lit nights and marinara sauce
Square pizza
We become what we
Used to laugh at

We crawl for the love
We pine for it
Like pizza after
Giving birth
While things
Potatoes, pieces of meat
Water

There will always be car fights
And tainted meat
The world is not at no risk
Of running out of Gatorade

But they can’t bottle this
They can’t hang it on hooks
It’s…

View original post 24 more words

Love is the black paint

/ schwervon

image
Reading and rotting 
The door is open 
Walking the road with no sidewalk 
Any place that you’re not free to leave
Becomes a prison 

Beer cans and buried cable 
Smashed plastic liquor bottles 
Monkey meat 
For all the cut hunters 

Heroes don’t need billboards 
Or special hats 
Statues of molded horses 
Broken phones and sneaky deals
Love is the black paint 

Love is a battle field And then it’s a Pop song

/ schwervon


Dreaming of past lovers
Farting in bed
I am finally warm

It never ends
Never goes away
always comes back

The welcome flags
Blow in the wind
Every one tells a story
The colors lie a little
Money from tourists
Frozen pigeon shit
A vacation with no Adventure

Google my love
The boys all call her Alaska
But I call her Florida

Evil can teach you things
Love is a battle field
And then it’s a Pop song