America and 3 Other Poems



Do what you love and it will be okay,
Follow your heart.

Count your blessings.
Keep on, keeping on. (Counting)

You get knocked down, you get up again.
(You’ll never keep me down)

Pull yourself up by your bootstraps.
Defy gravity. (Mind over matter)

When God closes a door, somewhere God opens a window.
(Revelation: vinyl siding on the ranch next door)

Count your blessings.
Keep on, keeping on. (Counting)

Think of the less fortunate,
Think of dead people.


America is a horrible, disgusting place.
When I think about it, I think
“What the fuck happened to this shit-hole,
why is the sidewalk all fucked up,
why is the free clinic only open after
4:30 on Mondays
and only sees the
first 20
show up,
why the fuck does this place
suck so fucking much,
how can I live here
and remain alive here?”*

*And “Can I wash it off? Will it come off in the rinse?" and "Don't ever complain about taxes you motherfucker."

Poem for Richard, Jared

Well, you don’t see that much anymore.
You just don’t see something like that nowadays.
Used to be you’d see one like that a lot, but you almost never now.
You just don’t much see something like that nowadays.

I remember, walking around here, you’d see that all the time.
Not so much anymore. Just don’t see it so much.
I remember, this neighborhood, couldn’t so much as go outside without seeing one.
But not so much anymore. Just don’t see it so much. 

Poem For Having to Sit at Panera.

I feel odd about my life.

Like “off-putting”
Like “disconcerting”
Like “periodic burning”

Like “What just happened?”
Like “What is happening?” (I’m at Panera?)
Like “What will happen?”

Like “what service industry job am I best suited to perform once I am inevitably weeded out of upward mobility? Which position will best soothe my ego while my manual labor is exploited to best expedite the caffeinism, alcoholism or consumerism of the landed gentry? And how will I ever make enough money within 10-15 years to be in a suitable enough position to properly raise my children if I decide to breed? And who am I kidding in thinking that my children have the slightest chance to not have to think about the service industry, their best possible future position in it and how their own children will have to do the same while sitting at a Panera in 2060.”


Richard Wehrenberg Jr said...

cringed slightly yet felt indelible affinity towards the last poem

you know, you see it (used to) and you just don't (now, anymore)

Duder P. Tailgate said...

quit whining jimmy payne.

Marina Goldshteyn said...

don't you wish you were in russia