Open Mike at Smokey Joe's

More Poems in the Open Mike Archives
Step Up To The Mike

Sleeping Under Cars

Sleeping under cars
Is dry but dangerous
Sweep me away
Like the debris
Left behind
By garbage men
Who Look
More like me
Than me
Ripple raves
Whiskey a holiday
Every thing I ever know
In no particular order
Father cut out of pictures
Lover cut out of memories
Son cut from the womb
Invisible ghost
Left alone
To walk the world
Like a tomb




xego <xego@email.com>
- Thursday, August 30, 2001 at 11:09:18 (CDT)

from over here.

i imagine us screwing.

i play it in my head as we roll and we screw and we roll and we screw and we roll.


i imagine us talking.

i'm very nervous and your very clever and i say something clever too.


i see myself stalking.

creeping and leaping and waiting and wanting

and loving you....


from over here.





kerryn tredrea <kerrynjane@hotmail.com>
adelaide, s.a. australia - Wednesday, August 29, 2001 at 07:31:23 (CDT)

Laybrinth
Running throught the laybrinth of my thoughts,
trying not to get lost.
Left,
no right
I'm just trying to find the light.
The light at the end of the tunnel.
Twisting and turning
my heart yearning and burning
to find the love that escapes me.
Weiving, all corners deceiving
I try to break free.
Are you willing to accept me
for who I really am?


Christopher Dwelle
Portland , ME USA - Wednesday, August 15, 2001 at 10:16:37 (CDT)



Off-White


My belt hangs like a snake on the door
A python's narrow head dropping
I think I am my father's youthful form
But he determined to hold the world by the throat
whereas I watch the candle's shadow
float beneath its translucent top
This vigil by a candle
which I make each night
But at times even its flame
is too harsh
darkness as a palliative
takes its place
Purity in form as substance fails
Except at the right moment
When action hardens desire
In that passage
a realization
may caress the mind
Whether it be in an off-white room
surrounded by blank walls
or crossing the breach into black-winged desire


Marc Weber <sugarmule@hotmail.com>
- Wednesday, May 30, 2001 at 10:40:37 (CDT)

Breakdown at Milepost 59
By T Kent Daniels

Itís two in the morning
The roadís growing lonesome
The rain comes again
The cold works its way in

She sits beside me
I feel so badly
Look what Iíve done
Yet she never complains

A glare in the mirror; a whining crescendo
Airbrakes give way to a brief rush of wind
The truck moves along, then recedes to the distance
They want to get home, they donít bother to call

We talk and we laugh
Though itís really not funny
My carís broken down
And so is my soul

I ask God above
To release me from torment
But each time I ask
He mocks me still more

Here in my car
Sits a beautiful woman
Only inches away
But so out of reach

Earlier today,
We had such a good time
We walked and we laughed
We enjoyed flowered views


Sheís just what I need
Which is why I canít have her
God wants me to see
What he wonít let me feel


And whenever she smiles
It makes my heart happy
A single glance
And it makes my whole day

But she talks about her boyfriend
How I should try to find one
They say the same old story
Find someone, but never them.

Now weíre in the car
I feel like Iíve trapped her
She doesnít want to be here
Is she afraid of me?

I should know this whole story
By 3:00 AM itís ending
Weíre rescued by a trooper
And towed on into town

She asks for separate rooms
At the desk in the motel
She thinks I have desires
When I have no hope at all

Iíve been here before
This road going nowhere
I want someone to love me
She only wants a friend

A hopeful day sits ruined now
A broken car goes nowhere
Please hear when I beseech you Lord
For a little peace of mind . . .

Itís getting late
There is no love
At milepost 59


T Kent Daniels <kentd@sacredheart.org>
Seattle, WA USA - Tuesday, January 09, 2001 at 22:43:26 (CST)

To have seen the night sky
Full of stars is one thing
To have listened to the growling of a bear
When you are on your own
In some dark valley
And you realise the bear
Must know your there
Its awesome it can clean give you the jitters
And sleeping isn't all that easy you
When living around bears
Best know a few good prayers
As otherwise you'll end up in a stew!







rex tyler <rex@cooksdelight.co.uk>
Berkhamsted, England - Sunday, August 13, 2000 at 16:59:27 (CDT)

My Cage....

~I used to run away, thinking I'd be free.
All it did was bring me pain and increased my insanity.
The pigs came and got me and locked me in my cage.
Sheltering me from the outside world and filling me with rage.
While going through withdrawl I attempted to take my own life.
Cutting and scarring myself with my comb and a plastic knife.
Eventually the drugs left my system and the withdrawls went away.
Everything wasn't just black and white, I began to see the gray.
For the first time in my life I saw things the way they are.
And even one of my drug counselors told me I was a shining star.
The months added up and the time passed by.
I had no urges to run, I had no reason why.
Now I'm still in my cage and it's been over a year.
Now I don't want to leave cause I'm so full of fear.


Jacqui Blomquist
Coon Rapids, MN USA - Thursday, August 10, 2000 at 11:35:06 (CDT)

I am lying
in a bath
that is not as hot
as it should be
because the person
I have grown accostomed
to bathing with
would have liked it this way.
I would rather
have her here now
to sit behind me
and wrap her legs
around my chest
than add more hot water.
I would carefully
shave them for her
and feel their smoothness
with my cheeks and lips.
I would lay back
on her chest,
close my eyes
and concentrate
on her hand
resting on my stomach.
She is gloriously female:
Beautiful.
Dark.
Mexican.
Eyes you could swim through.
And me?
I donít yet
have the courage
to call myself beautiful,
but I believe her
when she tells me.


Caitlin McMahon <malebaldness@hotmail.com>
Minneapolis, MN - Thursday, June 15, 2000 at 23:39:22 (CDT)

Tick* Tock*
Your head sways. On the noose. It was of ur own creation.
Tick* Tock*
Your clothes are worn and tattered. Many battles waged on foreign lands. They have taken their toll.........

Swish* Swoosh*
The sea calls. Its deafening waves pound the surf. Like so many fists manifesting their frustration on the land.
Swish* Swoosh*
Itís where you died, but where you truly lived. Where you were with me. Where you forgot me.........

Drip* Drop*
Crimson tears that refuse to surrender.
Drip* Drop*
Your penance. The price u have to pay. A small price to pay........

Creak* Crock*
Your arm moves. Ever so slightly.
Creak* Crock*
Beckons. Calls me. I yield.....

Woosh................................................*
I step forward and fly.......
Woosh........................................*
I think of u as I descend......
Woosh............................*
The sand comes up to meet me........
Woosh...............*
It wonít be long now........
Woosh....*************


Roque <Fatalfyle@aol.com>
NEW YORK, NY USA - Saturday, February 12, 2000 at 17:47:17 (CST)

i can't sing.
i can't dance.
it's too cold to pray.
it's too windy to play
with bottle rockets
and karma
can't get thru
on the cordless phone.
so,
i guess
i'll just walk over
to Wal-Mart
and push around some carts.


Frank Sloan
- Tuesday, January 25, 2000 at 16:57:14 (CST)

Wallowing in hypocracy
You actions are a mockery
Of the ideals you throw at me
Don't you think to succeed
you should at least believe
the words you preach?

Spout it out your endless doubt
Contridiction is what it's all about
But your disappointment isn't as loud
When all there is to be is proud
So you find yourself running around
In circles where you've lost your ground
And yor hatred (so renound)
Crumbles at the truth it's found.


Ashley <PandoraSky88@hotmail.com>
- Friday, November 19, 1999 at 11:36:43 (CST)

Love Warpaint

Dig deep
tug ligament
eat your lover's heart

Stripe your body with his blood
mark thigh and breast and chin
Love warpaint.

Stretch his skin to cover your house

Roast muscle and fat
and muse
on the usage of bone.


D <moon@whatrain.com>
Seattle, WA USA - Saturday, October 10, 1998 at 20:20:07 (CDT)

More Poems in the Open Mike Archives
Step Up To The Mike
Smokey Joe's Shakespeare D's Poems Sappho
Bob's Select Carol Wolf Phil's Poems Web Rings




















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