Showing posts with label poem 17. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem 17. Show all posts

Contours of the no

 shoulders hunched
hate rolls in
on a memory of lipstick smeared
trying to still my hand
to feel the contours of the no
that boils up
where’s the refraction 
through a prism and 
where’s the thing itself 
the proof is in the contrast 
but the edges get slippery
when I look too close

IRL

way back in 2015 or was it 2016 

there was a Twitter feud

and it might’ve started with Obama and Trump and a presidential warning not to say his name

and then Avril Lavigne said a thing and along came the babadook 

and Obama got involved with another warning 

so Trump got involved and asked Avril to sing at his inauguration and 

she said dear god no never you big bully and 

he said well, your music sucks anyway and the babadook isn’t scary and I’ll ban all the babadooks

but he should have known you can’t get rid of the babadook 

And this all really happened. 

And now the babadook is gay. 

Rumours 2

 

Information withheld so much 
more than the banality behind it,
a tight ship should be just that,
it glides across the horizon,
over the course of a day,
you don't see the waters
churning beneath,
or feel the salt take years off your life,
or grip the rail as you feel your
way back to your bunk.
Which side will a wave slap next,
and the view from the cafeteria,
moderate or good,
occasionally poor?