Poem 4/2/17

Poetry is simple arithmetic-
It's beauty is as it is logical--
and it's beauty is as it is rhythmic-
Task is thus passed unto the audible
abstract cast of characters and oral
tradition that proffer the litany
to poets' jurisprudence for war of
attrition against all antiquity-
Then--if and only if logic follows
and rhythm dances--beauty aspires
the damnedest depths as a hollowed bottle
does ring when thine pen's duty acquires
justice just as memory serves us
as much as mathematics in verses.

Simple fun poem

Unsure Footing

Could you teach

A klutz to waltz?

Well well well, first of all

Would you reach

Out and, well, make the call

Either to court

Or to join forces

Depending on what

The dance floor says...

Now, go on.

Call her up.

Now you're up.

A joke for the aged

One time I spent a weekend at my grandparents' place.
And it was on Saturday afternoon that my brother, Grammie, Grandfar, and I were enjoying ourselves some quality time together in the den.
Then, all of a sudden, there was a bump that began to gradually increase in the form of a subtle thump beneath the foundation of our feet. As the thump came closer my brother, Graham, peeked between the blinds and saw a black Chrysler town car rolling slow and laying low over the road in a tight rejuvenated suit and some new chrome sporked shoes.
That's when Grandfar, who had his headphones on playing "The History of the British Empire" book on tape, turned his head, feeling the vibration from the street--not because he heard it--and then Grammie noticed this so she said, "My goodness! Is that a DINOSAUR out there?! That racket manages to grab even your grandfather's attention."

The first morning after moving out

I wake up in my buddy's basement.
He's given me a couple weeks to inhabit half of his bottom floor--me and my stuff from the old eastside house. My room is just at the bottom of the stairs to the right, it has no door and it has a window that doesn't close.
That's the first thing I notice after the light hit my eyes through the window blinds at 9:56 AM Wednesday.
I half-consciously remember that wretched crack allowing a cool wind to swoop into the room in the dead of night.
I got up and tried to push it close, from each possible angle and all, but that dadnam thing would not shut.
This is only a centimeter we're talking about here.
It's only your shoulders that were chilly.
How about you get your own windows at your own place, bud?
Okay.
Fuck it.
All right.
Here we are.
I need to shower.
Again, up bright and early for another day at work.
From here the shop's just down the road.
I'll just charge my phone while I'm in the shower.
But the charger is in my car.
So I go up the stairs and out to my car to get it.
That's when things went wrong.
The house I'm staying at has two front doors. Between the doors is the entryway; it's like a little architectural atmospheric chamber meant to save heat and stuff, you know--and the owner's usually lock the second main door to the living room.
So, stupidly enough, I remembered that fact of the second door after re-approaching the house with my charger--
I left it cracked but then I opened the first door to the front yard--which must have sucked the air out of the room and incidentally sucked the door closed, and I didn't unlock the thing.
Fuck me.
So now I'm checking every door in my drawers, a tee and bare feet.
I also check to see if any neighbors notice this idiocy.
The termination dust decided to hit the tips of mountains the evening before, too, and it's cold.
My car had frost on it.
 have just about now made it to panic mode.
I'm locked out.
I'm half naked.
I can't call anyone because all the necessary numbers are in my dead phone inside.
I'm cold as hell.
But then I remember my cold shoulders and the blasted, unsealable slit.
It's a sign, I think--of idiocy, man, idiocy!
Let's just say I got a good laugh out of myself.
So then I took a deep breathe as I took that window of opportunity.

Two Pages of Notes

I see what is, nothing more nor less,
Because upon my sight I'm never not too impressed..
:::
On avid film watchers:
--General inquiry #1
-->How well do you perceive the conception of a perception of life? How good?
--->How good is your grasp of imitation?
:::
The myth of the black suit who walks along the white coast--(Barrett's story)
--He's always talking on a cell phone and looking at the mountains across the bay that shape the horizon line.
--The mystery is who he is talking to at the base of the bluff.
:::
Good ideas are tough to come by because of their fleeting nature..
Don't you remember those nights that you came up with a really good idea but you only remember having a good time? You do, however, remember the mere fact that a good idea was conceived within a specific timeframe but you haven't an inkling to the substance or the ability to recall the details of the good idea...
There's just the fact that you experienced a bright mindstate and transformed that quality into time well spent...
:::
You know you might be nuts when you blurt out,
"OH MY GOD THAT WAS SO GOOD, DAWG!"
after a fulfilling meal, in this case.
The crazy part isn't the fact that I was talking to a dog. That is mere coincidence, but the peculiar part is the seeming notion in my tone of voice at that very moment which happened to be directed at Marley who just happens to be a dog. The key word is dawg obviously, but in my lexicon and in the way I use speech "dawg" is a colloquial and oft-used term interchangeable with the more commonly known term"friend".
The funny part is I was talking to Marley, a dog, but instinctively referred to him (as I would to any friend I know and respect) as dawg.

That new job...

Can't pass up opportunity.
Take it to help out that within.
Do it for them and inner unity
because, honestly bro, it's worth living up to it to the end.
When it's all said and done only
memory  will outlast that last moment.
I thank all that stopped and
said, "Yo, this kids here's got it in him!"
I ain't saying I walk through life like I ain't got plans.
All I got, man, is some wisdom
and it's all yours if you wanna listen.
Nevertheless, bruh, my life has enough reason and rhyme
as it is and each day lays then
thus therefore
you get your
go ahead to preach to me,
new lore.
We've risen!

Freewrite

My voice is back to the blog.
Spencer, that's me. Hi everybody. It's different talking so plainly when you think so flowery.
Nah mean.
Anyways, I guess this blog's come a long way since I started.
I've gathered a lot of my thoughts on this thing.
Albethem playful thoughts, there's nothing like writing poetry.
The try to connect any word to any other is a healthy practice. I think at least.
Numbers aren't as fun. Geometry and economic trends are quite interesting.
But none come close to words. Words are far more troublesome!
Once you find some poetry write it down.
Even if it sounds wrong. Power through. You must make many mistakes, too.
If ever I successfully pass on knowledge the word has said to me and can say I ever taught someone something someday I'm telling you all right now... Write down the good shit.
And only the thinkers know what that is. That's why you scrit it first and explain it later.
One of the most important bits of wisdom I picked up in college was
How do you
know what you
think till you
see what you
say?
...
...write it down is right, my friends.
Write it down.
It's like, "tell me I'm wrong!"
Pun intended.
Speaking of which, before I go, I'll share one of my bit of poetry that I wrote tonight.
It goes
The trot I plot on
the spot aint got me
even to the state of
mind where I can say that
I've taught all that I've brought
to the web shaped whirlpool
a circumferential blot
from my conf'rence table spot.
The end.
PostScript
I was going admit earlier and speak to some of the context from this measure's collection of words, ideas, and poetic phraseology referring to specific posts prior, but it would have been just jumble.
That word makes me hungry.
As for my disclosure of intel: I'd probably have to speak to it in person.
Okay, well, I've been drawn away...... .... ... ..
I'm going to eat a bowl of cereal.
Shit, but we have no milk.
I tossed the rest of the half and half yesterday.
Piece of shit fridge.
Cream stays good for at least a month.
We have no dairy.
Except those slices of cheese
Cereal Nachos: munch brunch con queso!
Anybody?
Then after that I think I'll hit the hay.
And with that, my loyal lowbrow listeners, I bid you ado unto your day as you ought it fit!