Three Ages For Women

A middle aged woman
driving underneath a
midsummer’s thunderstorm
in a Kia hatchback.

She used to be attractive,
but now she doesn’t see
women who look like her
in the magazines these days.

She’s a teacher.

Had her hand chopped off
in a combine
working in cornfields in Kansas
as a teenager.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Hark, The Cement Factory

Hark-The-Cement-Factory

The Cement Factory
received the votes from Television
in
suspension in the air
promulgated the holy
high fructose corn syrup
in lungs
materials
combined from the fields.

The cancer research institutes
with the quotas,
pipelines from the funders
in the keep,
the blast padded walls
of the Cement Factory,
one in Siberia,
one in Oregon.
We keep watch of good
economies.
People have lined up.
The keepers of the Factory.

We turn to you Television.
We listen.
We receive The Activations.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin

Alien Heads, The Candy

Alien heads,
oh alien heads
laid in bed
looking at a planet
they’ve
come from
so very far away
I laid with
a woman with
an alien head,

the shape of the
suburban housewife’s bob,

the genetic memory
where she came from,

across our
luscious cells.

We stare at the window
blinds
where there is some form
of day
that’s out there.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Journalism Of The Americas

There were three
Middle Eastern boys
driving around
with a car bomb.

That’s all they ever really do,
drive around with car bombs.

I am Mexican.
I watch TV.

I am black.
I watch TV.

I am white.
I watch TV.

Whitey. White people.
TV good and grand for white people.
Clean your moustache, Officer Mitchell.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

My President Of The Shakespeare

“I believe that freedom and commerce
are values worthy of defending,
that those who may try to shake
the foundation of American prosperity
shall be ineffectual in their attempts.
I believe that terrorism and terrorists
no longer have caves to hide in,
nor governments to protect them,
that all the world is allied
in the fight for the preservation of
what is good.
I believe in a high protein, low fat diet.
And that the evil ones shall be dealt
a great talk with freedom.
Americans, knowledgeable,
sleep tight by your justice,
an economy awaits whose perseverance
shall triumph
the resiliency of freedom.”

— My President Of The Shakespeare


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

The Twelve Antiquities

Hierarchal Order

Rulers

Dominion

Eloquent Poetry

Penises

Non-Inquisitive Loyalty

Subservitude

Individual Wealth

My-Way-Or-The-Highway

Narrative

Symbolic Order

Ownership Of Resources


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

1990s Kids

They want to be celebrities.
Red between electric screens.
Talked about and gawked and
known.
They want to be known,
badly known in the
cartoon world of TV,
raised on TV,
juiced a constant trickle,
the fake effective, the fake feedom.
Did someone like what I did?
Did someone notice me?

They want to be celebrities.
Not on humble nights,
in the den
eating microwave pizza and
drinking Pepsi.
They’re supposed to be Generation Next,
but no one’s drinking Pepsi!
How will come the celebrities?

Be a solopreneur.
Be a thought leader.
Get ya some.
Get the world, Big Face.
Get that face to be bigger.
It’s all about marketing.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Bells of Tolrileum

The Bells of Tolrileum
I heard during torture,
the marketization, rule systems,
and subjugation
of
people.
The unfreedoms.
The magik. Symbology.

I remember the lost civilizations

          the Way of the Queens

          the days of learning and courage

          introspection with molecules.

I heard the Bells of Tolrileum.

Now
others are hearing.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Christianity, Christy

For a long time
I suffered from Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

I lived in a house on the hill.

In that house I suffered the mistrust
to believe that I suffer.

I am a candidate for pills
and evenings with pretty ladies.

There is a creation and labeling of me somewhere,

thence I take off my head and screw it
into oil cans.

I jump around and talk about tackle box
and incense holder.

I live in the house on a hill.

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