Tag Archives: anti-poetry

poem: east of where i stand

7 Oct

my brain fills
with scattershot landscapes,
tumble weeds blow dead
across long flat rivers of black asphalt,
trees and shrubs bend from a ceaseless wind,
dust carves veins atop dry clay river bottoms –
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poem: lost in a myth of my own creation

7 Oct

there’s a scar on her back
and I wonder
is that where the magic starts?
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poem: angels of disrepair

1 Oct

and still the whispers echo
long after the rope’s been cut,
bodies removed,
sinners and saints retired from the town square,
the center of the world,
the center of life,
the very core of it all –

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poem: atop the bones of dead saints

27 Sep

we place stones one by one
atop the bones of saints
felled by the voices of disbelief
and disintegration –
and no more to dance
in fields laid flat by the footsteps
of hooligans and martyrs,
carrying their flames and fears
within the clench of trembling hands –

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poem: fields afire

27 Sep

there is no silence at the center
of a garden filled with dead flowers
and falling leaves;
a garden surrounded by armor and brick
and the bones of soldiers gone so long from us now –

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review – “Crunked”

16 Sep

i am lucky to have received a very positive review of “crunked” which now appears at BOLD MONKEY. in all honesty it is completely unexpected given my feelings on “crunked” and how it may or may not be perceived in the so-called “public realm.”

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poem: trapped

15 Sep

there’s dust on the last page of my memories –
i am trapped within the branches of an unforgiving tree
chased by black and white flickering images –

a soft voice drills deep within my discontent –
where i stand the water stills into a silver panarama –
her face still holds me, her hands still touch my skin –

i never received a passing grade –
a test written in braille, back in days when i could still see –

a tremor in my hands reminds me of my disrespect –
she said she loved me,

once, a long time ago –

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review: Train to Chihuahua by Travis Blair

14 Sep

review: Train to Chihuahua by Travis Blair
by Jack Henry on Monday, May 9, 2011 at 9:18pm

I have often said that I don’t like reading poetry books. That is, books filled with poetry. Specifically books filled with poetry by a single poet. It can be a tedious, terrifying and sometimes traumatic event. The problem with most books of poetry by a single writer is with the poems. A few are great, many are good and far too many just suck out loud. SUCK OUT LOUD. This is true of the lofty academics on the high nosed presses to the self-published heroes in backwater USA. It happens, all too often but it happens.
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poem: shattered highway

14 Sep

shattered highway

…and I watch a broken down road rumble
beneath my wheels, the desert wind whipping
through my thinning hair,
memories of love lost and battles won
drift through my head,
a dull gray moon lifts effortlessly into a waning sky –
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heroin love songs 1.5 –

16 Apr

heroin love songs version 1.5 is up and pumping. check if you have the guts…

amanda joy
david parham
david mac
benjamin e. nardolilli
michael grover

poem: alone on a path that leads to the back of my mind

5 Apr

the blinking cursor damns me –
– some days i cannot write
– some days i cannot speak
– some days words have no meaning
and an incredulous sky opens with sighs of sorrow,
consumes me,
swallows me whole without thought or consequence
and i find myself wandering alone
on a path that leads to the back of my mind –
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poem: running away

5 Apr

i keep tripping down this lazy highway
in search of nothing more than the next step
another chapter, another verse, another line
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we sit waiting along the Salton Sea

25 Mar

each day the suns takes away another piece of the Salton Sea –
winds drive in to carry dust through trees and clouds, out across cities that hide million dollar homes –

we sit waiting along the Salton Sea,
for turning tides and skies that always feel gray to slumber long
and forget to remember the last path home –

we watch the horizon and wonder if the world has left us lingering,
left us wanting, praying on our bloodied knees –

lives consumed by petulant tides, red algae blooms, and the silent hum
of geo-thermal power plants in Calipatria –

each summer brings another fish kill, another plague of locust, frog and sadness –

Main Street remains shackled, boarded up, locked down –
new homes lay rotting –
stores sit empty –
we stand outside of the law –

a neighbor cooks meth in a single-wide trailer –
i get a volume discount –
there’s nothing left to do except mark each day
on the calendar with a red X and look for work in
the classifieds from a newspaper two weeks old –

poem: terminal

18 Mar

in a rich part of town.
a town i used to wear my mask:
lived day-to-day
buried in games of keeping up and keeping up –
fucked soccer moms built for revenge –
snorted dope in spider-web corners of mercurial garages –
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from Epic Rites Press –

14 Mar

Epic Rites Press is massively pleased to announce the release of Can’t Stop Now! by John Yamrus, his eighteenth book of poetry.

Attached you’ll find a press release for Can’t Stop Now!, plus exterior book images by the great multi-media artist Pablo Vision. The exterior is a depiction of a seventeenth century perpetual motion machine, symbolic of John’s incredibly consistent body of work in a career that spans over four decades.

An electronic version of the press release is available online. A review of Can’t Stop Now! (by UK author Zack Wilson) is available. Wilson’s review, according to Yamrus, is “the most spot-on review of my work ever written.” Also, a recent interview between John Yamrus and Wolfgang Carstens is available.

The web page for the book is here:.

You can listen to John read material from Can’t Stop Now!, as well as talk about the book, on forthcoming radio appearances March 18th with Rob Plath on Keith Richard’s Immune System
and with Diana Rose on Inside The Syndicate Lounge on March 21st.

Can’t Stop Now!, in Wolfgang Carstens’ opinion, is John’s strongest collection of poetry to date! “This is how poetry was meant to be! Raw, honest, and pared down to muscle and bone! Order your copy today!”

My only reference is that John Yarmus is the real deal and, while I have not read this tome, I would not take Wolfgang’s comments lightly. I will let you know when I get a copy.

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