A poetry cafe...Expresso Expressions! --four poems by Artis

(1.)-Title: -Watered Down History ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I urinated on my draft card this morning I dug it out of an old file and then unceremoniously dropped it into the commode and pissed all over it with the trained accuracy of a Marine Corps sharpshooter making all the letters run and fade together in a blur almost in the same way that four years of my life were run as I watched them fade 18..19..20..21...all just a blur of weapons, instead of laurel wreaths motivation to kill instead a college degree sucking chest wounds..hot and bubbling during the worst years rather then sucking drafts cold and foamy during my best years with friends lost to death and deformity rather then friends gained by life in a dormitory ~ and so a strong stream of invectives stained yellow was blasted from my prescence to obliterate a symbol of my past creating watered down history swirling away from me with one pull of my finger on a trigger of disposal it all became just waste I lowered the seat to half mast and washed my hands of it all many years later "Semper Fi"... but I still have issues ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Artis ` ` poem 2-title: "Back when two worlds collided." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Happy tousled blonde head turning arms unsynchronized go flailing muscles fresh on stubby legs pump the strength of three short years into this moment in time Spring of nineteen-fifty-five dashing for a bright red ball tossed up by a sibling playing the simple joys of run and fetch but swiftly that ball rolled on past most intrigued he chases after carefree of the world around him that rushes by in pastel blurs ~ Key in the ignition turning nervously the hand slips down shifting the car into first gear a move practiced just twice before the student tense as the instructor gazes with critiquing eyes hands upon the wheel gripped tightly cringing as his pen jots notes wincing at this teacher's sighs as just outside the world flys by ignored for thoughts are centered elsewhere on tougher things still left ahead ~ scarlet flash so bright at curbside as rolling orb meets hard concrete spinning mindless cross the roadway then followed up by tiny feet startled gasp it breaks the May air a frightened sister starts to run suddenly the world goes slow-mo when tragedy it jaywalks too tousled head in concentration as hand reach outward for the ball eager legs they venture onward both ears deaf to any pleas ~ Flash of chrome, and hot wax finish burnished by the morning sun seeming to come out of nowhere treading on a deadly path toddler now just right of center sibling fails to reach him yet as two lips form a piercing scream student driver checks the rear view to scan just briefly...what's behind instructor jumps and shouts a warning all much too late, the die is cast ~ eight pairs of eyes go wide in horror one foot slams clutch, the other brskes two skid rows... burn trails... thru the projects attempts at miracles denied one tousled blonde boy tossed up skyward unsynchronized arms and legs flail a rag doll as he tumbles downward a red ball...his head hits the street lying twisted near three pairs of feet. ~ an ambulance wails out it's loud solo of sorrow, and it's urgent need a student learns a lesson that she never thought driving would teach soon all is gone now but for one small puddle of blood on concrete a compound, compressed front skull fracture sent bits of bone into the brain of one small boy just chasing joy now headlines and great tears remain ~ But all who read this, and are sorrowed find peace for this child cheated fate in fact this poem just freshly written was penned by him..... now forty-eight but what became of that poor driver has haunted me through all these years I wish that I could somehow find her to say I'm fine and share a smile. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Artis ` ` poem 3-title: Scattered thoughts on a Wednesday night. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ If my entire body was covered in thick layers of hair then I would never comb it that way I could always look quite natty ~ Sex is great but you can't take it with you if you could then graveyards would have far more humps over the graves then they do now as well as many things that go bump in the night stiff would have a whole new meaning and dem bones would rise again and again and again but death is a solo act so I have plans to make arrangements for the next best thing to sex after death when I die I am going to have my lover make a douche of my ashes and run me through one more time. ~ being an ex-smoker I find my vocabulary changing because now...Salem is a just place where they used to burn witches Kent is a place that lies just east of Akron, Ohio by the way is Akron..an Akron-Noymn for boring or what?? Camel is a large, obnoxious spitting beast, without a hump which sounded like me in the morning after a pack and a half Kool is a 70's type group that has a gang that celebrates a lot Merit is something I used to earn in school but it usually had a D in front of it Lucky Strike is when a doctor rear ends my car and it's his fault Wins..ton is what happens when I sue him Virginia Slim is a beef stick I bought while passing through Arlington Benson and Hedges is my black neighbor with his clippers on a garden day Barclay is where I usually end up face down out a tavern's back door after a drinking binge which I gave up when I quit smoking Century is about how long it took me too quit Eve was Adam's wife and she invented the adams apple Lark is something I go out on once in a while, like this poem Newport is when I go to the library and use thier computer system and Old Gold is what you see on the wrinkled necks of 80% of Miami Beach residents.... A Bic is now a shaver or a pen a match is what your looking for in a mate and puff's are now tissues for my smoke free nose a roach is something that scuttles in other people's domains weed is the filler for all the cracks in my sidewalks bong is the sound of a church bell downtown and pot is what you get if you're over forty and you drink beer to compensate for not smoking cancer is still a threat, but I don't think about it much anymore whenever I see an ashtray, and I can sit anywhere   I damn well please, in any restaurant but..God I miss that rush, the weight on my lip and the taste after dinner, or sex.... I guess I'll have to take up track, get my lip pierced eat more smoked meats, and have more heated sex.... till my joint is smoking...bong..bong...bong!!!! "Yeah...That's the ticket!!"~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Artis ` ` poem 4.title: "An expose' on Underwear Models." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Underwear models their colorful ca-rrears are brief as they jockey for position in this low fashion world like boxers pairing off to face the Battle of the Bulge they don't cotton to any of those polyester pantywaists silk is the fabric of thier lives they have earned their degrees not as P.H.D.'s but more in the field of B.V.D.'s they are usually quite healthy enjoying the Fruits of their Loom and they are often spotted between photo shoots taking a cruise on a panty liner to the bikini islands and yet because of a rather large demand in the private sectors underwear models often find themselves stretched to the limits workwise but they are as flexible as the elastic in the product they parade they tend to be exhibitionist's as they prance down the catwalks wearing only thier skivvies but they do have the common sense to know that sometimes less can equal more financially and otherwise money out the wazoo no butts about it Underwear models an American Icon in the barest of sense ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~artis thank you all for listening and goodnight!! Written April 6th, 2002 © on Apr 06 2002 03:19 PM PST   0 • 18 • 10