My Thing

Hispanics love big celebrations.

They’re having babies more than anyone else on the market.

We do know that they send a lot of money home.

A lot of banks now are trying to get into that market
because there is so much money there.

Most Hispanics, Mexicans specifically,
really like a lot of colors,
they like to have a lot of color around them.

L.A. has by far the largest segment of the market.

Because it is my baby I feel very strongly about it,
I very much love this market.

It is my thing;

the Hispanic market.

* This is a found poem taken from a conversation I overheard a marketing
director have with a coworker of mine once upon a time.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

M.I.N.E.

We never walk at sundown.

We could live better on this planet.

You hold your dark eyes
and I hold mine too.

If everyone stays inside their house
and guards their possessions
then we’ll call the planet Earth.

You will have a forehead made of stone.
I will remember the scent of stone.

A solar star burns
and
mortals go capturing its light,

but we could live better on this planet

so I guess
you will have your possessions
and I will have mine.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Le Bourgeois

Should I devein my shrimp?

I bought it in a place that
sells people shrimp.

People who work for the people
who own the place that
sold me my shrimp have
told me
it would be best of me to
devein my shrimp,
but they’ll also sell to me
a service called “shrimp deveining”.

So now I wonder,
should I devein my shrimp
or pay someone who earns
less than me a little money
to devein my shrimp?


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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The Reasons Of Production

When you kicked over those boxes
they knocked over the other boxes
containing the styrofoam cups.

It broke a lot of them.

You yelled “fuck you” at the boss one time
and you’ve never worked
when you weren’t being supervised.

I have yet to see you
put the broom and the dustpan up
at the end of the day.

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
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Nahuatl Codus 2

The commodity-discriminate-hospital
on purpose a backing of the
commodity-segregate-economic-system.

A champion, a prized artifice of war,
the ruler-commodity-hierarchal
of the only-thing-holy
commodity-segregate-system.

The commodity-sad-emotions and
commodity-bored&tired-spending
keep you in check,
not thinking outside of your
commodity-place-where-they-need-to-be-kept-those-people.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
from:
antipoémus thumbnail image
Antipoémus (poetry book)

Quality Of Life

“I’m
gonna sit here
and
drink
my canned soda
until
my liver
makes me
bored.”


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

Living In The Midwest

We received clothing from a factory.
It was after the first winter.
We ate our meat out of cans.
It had all come from so far away.

Who knew about this technology?
Who knew anything anymore?

Tomorrow we set out across the plains
to find it.
Our first winter has come to an end.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin

What Never Stops

Grandmother is going shopping
for things in Costco®.

Palenque is in Costco®,
Mexico and Italy as well
are also in Costco®.

The days do not end.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin

Nothing More Can Go Wrong, Chicken Tenders

In the backyard is a plow.
No one knows quite what to do with it.
It sits with its wood rotting
and its iron rusted
as a sculptural piece in a flowerbed.
There’s also a grave for a hamster named Dinky,
a stone, here by the plow,
painted with neon green and pink fingerpaint.
The stars are silent.
My grandmother would not agree with the situation.
She would not have belief or comprehension of it.
Her wrists would bleed and her feet would hurt.
She would have misunderstanding,
befuddlement and fear.
She would not discuss.
She would be worried to be in this place.
Her eyes would twitch and her brow would crinkle.
It’d be a look your gut would decipher.
I’m pretty damn scared right now to look at the plow.
I can’t look up.
I can’t look at the garden or the birdbath.
I know the oak trees stand there brooding over me,
thinking
“What the fuck are you people doing?”

I don’t know who is wrong.
If anyone can even be wrong anymore?
If we can even do this or that?
I think genetics are dead or
they are living.

I don’t think we can.

I am a box.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image