The Computers

I feel the same with these computers
still around me.
Brooklyn, 2004.
Chicago, 2018.
They’re still here.
Not the same computers.
But their forms and
with similar feelings,
similar smells.
Electrons activated on air.
Petroleum exhaust from the streets outside.
Wormholes have been ripped open
in our cosmic neighborhood.
But, the computers are still here
in their form and feelings.
I feel them.
I see them.
They will be something different
at some point,
but for now they’re still here within
the concrete, steel, and glass buildings
of the city
and the agencies.
The computers dream to be
deoxyribonucleic acid.
I feel it.
I have seen it.

Poetry from tewkMehrtin.com

The Huntress, The Burrito, The Goats

She looks out the window
with blue eyes,
her breakfast burrito in hand,
the light of the day slices
gold streaks
upon them.
And she finds that the goats
once playing with each other,
headbutting heads,
have tired,
then she realizes
nothing lasts forever,
everything eventually expires.

Her head feels better.
Her mind more clear now.

Poetry from tewkMehrtin.com

Economics And Repugnancies

Get me out of this
Outback Steakhouse.

It is not in the outback.
Nor is it a steakhouse.

If Jenny from 3rd period English
is there,
it will be too much
to watch the plasticine moment
of people purchasing
something that doesn’t exist.

If I set there and watch the plates
come in,
I will watch them,
watch them bring nothingness.

Jenny’s supple breasts evoke
their trances
just like women and children
as items on TV,
or like the fathers
with chiseled chins and parted hair
riding shiny new lawnmowers.

Economies are made to make
shit like this.

Poetry from tewkMehrtin.com

Fasting Before Silence

I awake day after day
with the Pentecostal damage

Slowly rehydrating my blood
each morning
the world grows
the past keeps pulling

The arguments of forefathers
alive in my muscles

Ignorance dwells in me
in the house of the human

Though I proceed forward
vaporizing my spirit in the
desert of the later morning
light

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
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

A Colossal Of Car

A giant car,
the size of 30 Empire State Buildings
rose up before the metroplex of Dallas-Fort Worth.

Holding loft in the sky,
holding all dominion,
it towered over 1 billion miles of highway.

The highways ran left and right
as far as the eye could see,
merging into Space
and Infinity at the edge of the horizon.

Speckled here and there were signs for
AppleBee’s,
Wal-Mart,
McDonald’s,
and Home Depot.

This colossal of car held sway
and took place of the 5 million people
living down below, back on the ground.

The remainder of the cars,
that the seven and a half million people
once used,
got up and walked to the ocean.

Love And Emotional Security

I want to feel small.
I am a woman.
I have seen advertisements
all my life.
In them,
women are always
more petite
than men.
When I played with dolls
as a little girl
the female dolls were always
three times as skinny as
the male dolls.
For this reason,
I want to feel small.
I understand this to be love
and
emotional security
and the truth behind
economics.

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
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Dream A Cream

You live the supreme dream.

The burrito supreme?

No, burrito scream?

Dream, just dream.

I spilled my burrito cream.

Spilled my tuna cream taco.

I bet you did, girlfriend.