The Exalt Complacence

A river runs through my ass,
a ball of worlds.

Pissing and shitting,
a Neanderthal of time.

A ball of worlds. The owner of words.

Perhaps a turd.

An invitation to intellectualism.

A turd. A toilet.

A turd and a toilet,
I dig for survivors.

In the face of things
I again survive,

even watch the sunrise,
my farthest Laura of the Petrarch.

The intellectualism hast not survived,
I am Son of Man.

Amended. Amended.
A toilet. A toilet.

– from Antipoémus

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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Coinkydink Simulacra

At the Center For Questionable Thought
we waited on a delivery,

while waiting we chatted, talked,

watched the sun go down over the
fields outside the windows,

it bleached the air with some sort of electricity
that was orange

and it excited us and the insects out in the fields too.

We drank a couple beers, held their tastes,
smelled the smell of the old place,

I do recall a smell of dank linoleum.

We also did a bunch of filing of papers and organizing
all the boxes by their months and years.

We waited for the deliveries
and were congenial with each other as we did,

as we were inside that structure.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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The Work A Metaphor

A shirt on the floor.

A shirt on the floor.
I asked and she said
and I said,
“Do no more.
Stop designing
shirts for the floor.”

The Woods of Brae
outside the door,
dangling space of spades,
crystalline webs
run a’through
the leaves.

The answers in the air,
between you and me.
And here we sit inside
the door
cramming shirts and shirts
into these cedar boards.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Residence With Artists

I think I have to pee,
gonna go pee,
“go pee”.

Pissed by an oasis in the Sahara.
Pissed in zero gravity.
Pissed while it was pinching me,
barely,
deep breaths,
blistery breaths,
blistery piss, red colored piss.
Pissed out my medication.

They got me shitting
like everyone else does here,
I do not like it.
My urine sat in toilets,
went unnoticed,
until I got caught up in conversations
about the fine quality of Atlantisean porcelain,

they made me flush it.


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

From Money And Power

We’re talking about a freedom
from money and power.

What do you mean?

Blank look.

We’re talking about a freedom
from money and power.

Looks at TV.

I don’t understand you.

I gotta go.
I’ll talk to you next week.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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The Historian

Andre The Giant announced the new realism –
contextualism,
while Academians worked to validate the status quo.
Andre The Giant died on the Twenty-Ninth of January
Nine-teen Ninety Three.
To some he was known as The Gentle Giant.

The liquors we drank in the House of Prin,
for our predecessors some of them French,
we drink and continue ‘til every sunrise
the fiesta of our livers,
united by the way your mouth and children want things,
like gift certificates and save the rain forest.
We observe.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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