Without Time Machines

I will love you with your
genital herpes.
I promise I am valiant
and cannot find
the likes of such a woman
during any of the decades
before disease,

cannot find the man that makes
the machine
that makes disease,

but I understand the CIA
is hiring the best,
my dear lady, J. Edgar Hoover.

Poetry from tewkMehrtin.com

Not Agenda

I see the inhumane shapes
of women in shop windows.

I know that God exists.

I have to know that God exists

. . . as I see the inhumane shapes
of women in the shop windows.

Things cannot be made,
such as the shapes of women
in the shop windows.

These are of infinity,
burned perfectly in neurons,
and they are not agenda.

– poetry from tewkMehrtin.com

Executive Sauce

My penis pisses barbecue sauce.
I run for the presidency.
I remove my penis.
The people now understand the presidency.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Born Into Advertising

Driving in a BMW®
the air feels warmer and warmer.

Driving in a BMW®
penises get larger and larger.

A flower rests on cow leather.

On the way to a funeral,
driving in a BMW®
young William knows nothing of
his loss.

Tater tots press into the seats.
A cartoon squelches on screen.
Tinted windows blot out clouds.
Children refrain from speaking.

Driving in a BMW®
life is a luxury.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Food Food Inth Sacred

I would like a Texas Double Cheeseburger™.
I should want an era of mass advancement.

I would like an order of Biggie Fries™,
for it is an era, my fine Plutarch,
of the haves and have nots.

Is it not a moment of contemplation?

[a time for barbecue sauce and
Crispy Chicken Nuggets™]

I play with my ketchup.
I play with my doo-doo.

Living in this era, it is like
playing with ketchup and doo-doo,
mixing it up, ketchup with doo-doo,
eating food food
(like this so,
humane and mythological).

These things get up and walk to the deity.

The deity baptizes them “food food”;
for they have walked, actually walked,
the Texas Double Cheeseburger™,
the Biggie Fries™
and Crispy Chicken Nuggets™,
etc.

in the bodies of human life-forms.

from AntiPoemus.com

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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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
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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)