Poetry

Lost perfect words Between sleeping and waking

/ schwervon


Lost perfect words
Between sleeping and waking

Give me that at least
A present for my sadness

The mystery of action
Upon all apparent vices

To see the bottom
And return

Robbins playing in snow
Squirrels dancing with sorrow

All of us
Newborns

All of us crowned in blood

You have a choice
to turn the page
Or push the button
a choice
To swim the ocean
Between them

Courage to follow
Your mind where it wanders
To make use
Of the resting places
Along the path

To heighten your quest
For soft arrows and turning logs

Eternal reverb
a voice worth worshiping

Never spilling
Just moving

Dead wood redundant

/ schwervon

image
To say a dead corpse
would be redundant

But Wood can some
how Still be alive

We fire up the human fat
For our catapults
It’s not a Mongol thing
It’s a human thing

An education in
Self soothing

Time to stretch things out
Read the skin and entrails
Consult the eight ball
Plot our next move

A larger cup is not the solution
To our cup a day ration

Bless me father
My hair has thinned

We learn to Speak
softly to a dying wind

Especially in wintertime
an especially Special
Time

Dead wood redundant

Arguments survive
For generations
And
generations

Empty boxes
Old milk
Long past it’s use

A heart is just a wheel
stuck in dried mud

Sometimes
a simple revolution
Is all that’s needed

There’s nothing wrong with sharing

/ schwervon


Work hard rock harder
Cookie dust
TV on the sidewalk
The right monster
For the job

Chirping for dollars
Another pair of shoes

Another hook in the ocean
Money for school
leaves On steps
The weirdos that
Walks everywhere
Revenge of the Olds

Circulate and destroy
Just try to stop

And then it’s gone
In an instant
It is a look
A half second on the dance floor
A flip of the hair

Flip of the hair
Flip the hair
Freeze
Zoom in
Sharpen
Choose a filter
Now Share

There’s nothing wrong with sharing
The kids know that

There’s nothing wrong
With it taking over
Until
there is

Guns are the toys of
Eternal children

We speak and listen
We turn and turn and turn
Happily making wind

Repackaging and Uncovering

/ schwervon

image
You listen to as many
Songs in the world as you can.

Painting by flower
And flame thrower
War over cartoons
And collected advice columns

We don’t like the same things
We prepare for battle with television
We train with meat

We make up meaningless
words like enemy
And freedom

We reward ourselves insane
for picking the Most cotton

We mix gin with the roots
Of our rocking chair

We slice pie with the blood
Of lost pets and
Killer whales
Forever in search of
The philosopher’s stone

Leasing a sea of tax revenues
And clothes hangers

Harvesting eyes
For the winter
Vacationing off the coast
Of a set of headphones

Governed by alchemists
And magicians

Turning the crank
Feeding pigeons
Voting for dollars

Washed play sand

Repackaging and
Uncovering

Fans
Sisters and brothers
Subjects
We are all in this
Seventy percent

Mystery
Together

The sound of flowers shrinking

/ schwervon

image
Popsicle poetry
I have no stomach
For a scorched earth policy

Letting the air out.
Texting in bed

Skating party limbo
The next day and the next

The emptiness never
Bothered me.

A feeling of something
Is pushing

Calf pain
A throwing up of hands
A conversation with myself
What I mean

Perhaps it’s time
to take down
The Christmas lights

Shift
Control

Speaking in code
The sound of flowers shrinking
These squirrels are fearless
Long walks

Lazy poets

Okay to be broken

/ schwervon


Okay to be broken
Okay to disconnect
Okay to be a fan

Nomads are much more
Likely to resort to cannibalism

Eating bugs
Eating rats
Eating guts

Gunpowder
And seminal fluids
Political
smoothies

The Mongols of peacetime
Shooting for dollars

A marriage of self defense
We’ve never seen anything

Like

this

Rhesus pieces
There’s no place like home

It is everywhere.

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

Most of us die slowly

/ schwervon


Most of us die slowly
We swim without a net
Until the paperwork gets us

realize you’re screaming

Stoping advicing

The year of the tree
has come and gone

The sickest thing
Hiding behind words
There is no childhood
In them
Soft anger is hard to print
Hard to read
Words are lazy
Like porn
We make words
difficult Like love

Primitive defense mechanisms

The birds that stay
all winter long
They know their place
They argue well

I’ve been seeing things Out of the corner of my eye

/ schwervon


I’ve been seeing things
Out of the corner of my eye

when I look it’s gone
When I focus it’s not there

A lazy soul

So many cops
So many churches
So many t-shirts
So much pasta

Constantly rehearsing
Acceptance speeches

Launching arrows
a sea of bees

Genghis Khan clouds
The indirect approach

An army of donuts
Lead by a lion

The brass ring
Is in your nose

A dry erase board
A bag of records

Working with friends
Is such a good idea

The burning cold

I am Charlie

/ schwervon


Bending iron bars
With our heated vision

Acts of collective indiscipline
I am Charlie

Feverishly tapping thumbs
On small pieces
Of freezing glass

Smelling old people
Listening to children

Paying our fair share
Asking for what we need

Waking up
Sleeping

It’s easier just to fight
Sometimes

To take it all out

A Good book
Parents
A magic bullet
Kool-aid

A freezing walk alone
In the park

Heated car seat
Manifesto

Tools are just tools
Until they are their
Opposites

They are not free
are not love

We are