Soda And Derelict

The civil clerk is a good person
and usually is anyways
good
left up to others
to take care of tasks
would nothing become
some other one’s job is for Sunday
or some day of learning
does until done
what is needed on a morning
all parents die


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Alder 9 The Robot Talks With His Master

“Alder 9,
this is a mud shit mess
I tell you,
a mud shit mess.
Alder 9,
are you registering this
with yourself?
Master,
why’d you bring us here?”

“The course of resources is possible here,
according to the genetic terminus,
as the famines and wars served their purposes
on Earth
and as the Earthlings say,
and also in Heaven.”

“I wish I was in Heaven right now,
I’d go to the recreational platform.”

“Alder 9, most Earthlings don’t know
about the recreational platform in Heaven,
let’s not mention it out here.”

“Alright . . .

Look! On that ledge,
something’s moving!”

“Oh God, oh no,
up there!
It’s a bus full of school children!”

“It looks like it’s those dinosaurs and barbarians
over there.”

“Alder 9,
let’s fucking roll,
stop lollygagging around!
Move it,
fucking move it, you chintzy bastard!”


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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STD Clinic Poem

The Coach said not to.

He said simply,

“When it comes up over the hill,
just don’t do it guys,
don’t do it.”

Now you’re wondering where the Camaro is.
Why did it go away?
Why has it not come back around the corner?

But the sun knew the desert well.
The damn desert goes on and on,
and well,
the desert knows the sun.
These are not really consolations for you.
I’m sorry.

The Coach entered the bathroom
and there were tiles,
they were turquoise and plaster tiles,

and he said clearly,
“get me out of here”.

Then
we watched them throw tiles at Coach’s
lifeless body.

The sunrise was beautiful as we wept
and raised our crusty eyes with spatial baptisms.
We wondered why they would do that to our Coach.

We’d been through so much with that guy,
even the Petroleum Wars
where he kept it tuned to AM 1280
and we hid underground.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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The Chum Date Never Made Her Wedding

Mature with me
Be immature
Hide the salt and pepper shakers
Grown old
Your bones
won’t have the chance again
to do stupid things
Fickle flicks
Preserve self image
The undead are dying
The dead live upon our breaths
The dead babies are being forgiven
in heaven
He has stale bready breath
Hide the salt and pepper shakers
Make rain
Look at the windows on Main Street
Down there she killed herself
ultimately
Mature with me
Be immature
Pull away
Now the funeral procession
heralds the west winded ghosts
and the cafe waits back in childhood
They’re tracing over couches
Your parents while crying
drove the car home
for their tender memories
past the corn fields and shopping strips
the red airplane hanger


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Le Grand Cyberattack

Le grand cyberattack came down from the clouds
one day when I was walking through the park
and passed by intellectuals hanging out,
reading novels and plays.
They sipped coffee, wore berets, ate baguettes.
The berets could be replaced by dark skinny jeans,
disheveled tshirts or designer sport coats
depending on what is marketed at the time
as being the look of the thinking or creative person.

Le grand cyberattack happened in between the floor
of my apartment
and was hardly noticed except by animals and
small creatures
living in an invisible world well beyond our consciousness.

TV was almost devoid of the grand cyberattack
but for the producer’s laptop computer being denied
internet service
while he was trying to purchase last minute airplane tickets
to war-torn Syria.
The effects of le grand cyberattack were unregistered
in Syria
and he eventually made it there to tell us on the television
how it really is
over there.

The future projected to me in cartoons when I was a child
was completely wiped out by le grand cyberattack.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Happy At The End Of The Day

She seemed happy at the end of the day. I’ll
never say if this was the case. Her pay is
low, but I know she was happy to be back around
other people after being alone in her home for
five days during the ice storm. Nearing middle
age never scared her, she said she still loved to
rock out to the Steve Miller Band and during each
birthday she treated herself like a five year old
child at a pizza parlor party. There was something
wild about her in this moment, like seeing her
then, on one of those birthdays. It could be
that she was just glad to be back at work, or
what some would call “doing something”. I
personally think the greatest thing she’s done
all day is to appear bounding with happiness
at the end of the day, for me, herself and the
rest of the world. Even for the people she’ll see
in the convenience store on her drive home
when she stops to get some milk, shredded
orange cheese and eggs, to make dinner for her
husband who lives in another house a couple
acres behind her own house.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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The Dialogues Of Plebius

“I want to marry Dionysus.
Can I marry Dionysus?”

“Dionysus was a woman.”

“So.
I have a strong bow,
a chariot,
burial sites full of Egyptian riches,
and genuine Nike sneakers from the 1980s.”

“So,
do you have a moustache?”

“No.”

“Was Walt Disney
a gay homosexual man?”


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
from:
lovers of the century thumbnail image
Lovers Of The Century (poetry book)

Taking Apart A Pot Of Coffee

while i was taking apart the pot of coffee
the hipsters looked in
then came the yuppies and suburbanites later.

dude
what are you doing they said
that thing ain’t a model of the universe
it’s not on tv
you’ll never survive like this.

looking up at the beige walls
i continued to take apart the pot of coffee
many many many winters passed
until i had a beautiful beach at my feet
many many many winters i must stress.

you can collect your paycheck for 30 years
watch tv
have a career
get clothes, money, houses, gadgets, cars
or you can take apart a pot of coffee for infinitum.

be forewarned
if you take apart a pot of coffee
people will heckle and belittle you
they’ll grow old in front of your eyes
if you’re good you’ll be sent to a state home
for doing so
if you do things right though
you’ll be happy regardless of your income or location
while taking apart this pot of coffee
in fact i don’t believe income or location will matter
in the long run while doing things as such.

you can take apart a pot of coffee
in a bathroom
on a spaceship
on a mountain top or while waiting on a table
for an mri.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Postscript

Learned how to be a “valuable” worker
in a free-market economy.
Also learned to be a “team player”.
Did not learn to reject
the free-market economy
because that upsets
everyone else
still stuck
in the sham show shit scam mess.

This has a 99.9% chance
of being your postscript.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Saidness

You move on me, not like a mirror,
but like daylight.

A dying man’s life was really a day,
one long day of life:
watch the sky open, watch the sky close.
This cloudscape belongs above Montana.

You step in me, not like mud,
but like river:
unlike the cat chase of Mohenjo-Daro,
unlike the Martian meteorites.

The turquoise from the jewelry-makers of God
I take from your eyes
and hold onto the colors of day.
There: life is frozen.

O Antarctica, only you have beaten time,
or so
the foreign-exchange students
from the mermaid-lands
have told me.

I love you, football, tender, tender.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
from:
lovers of the century thumbnail image
Lovers Of The Century (poetry book)