(no subject)
"the four of us" John Rogers, ©2005
there are four of us.
sitting
talking loudly of video games
awful B movies.
Chris and i eating
a trayload of food
he has purchased
for us to share.
Pete keeps trying to steal
french fries.
Marty sits across from me.
he's already eaten.
(when i move away/grow older
these will be the things i
miss.
sitting
in McDonalds
laughing and farting.
just me
Chris
Marty
and Pete.)
we let Pete eat some of our
fries.
Chris and i have finished our
burgers.
i consider all four of us
beautiful poets.
Marty, writing once in a while
Pete writing perhaps secret
and not showing me much
Chris and i
just word fiends
filling unpublishable volumes.
four poets.
we finish our food,
get in my car
and leave.
i miss us already.
(1/31/02)
~~
"before work" John Rogers, ©2005
he sits on the
wet patio
of the store,
smoking nervously.
why is he nervous?
I ask myself.
he's one of the calmest
guys I know.
he is silent
and looks lost.
the sky
is orange
red
violet
with the throes of dusk.
he watches the sky
looking for birds
or
angels, perhaps
even a miracle.
(1/30/02)
~~
"notes before two naps" by john rogers
watching ) the cat
lurks larger
than
life,
as she licks
her claws; toes;
tail, sides...)
and
i
think
about the
sunspots that formed
on
my corneas
during child-
hood
and were
removed once
i grew teen-
aged
and weary,
tired of slouching
in pews
at desks,
of standing
at attention
while a
war
on imagination
was
being
lost.
the leaves
brown and
flung
terribly,
were disrupted
in their rake
prison trash-
bags,
the sweeping sad-
ness of the comedic
tragedyof life
(or is it
a tragic
comedy?) being
brought into
light, so as
to be
revealed; the errors
of human life
were so clear
when my eyes
could see
again.
life
was not always precious,
dreams
could be crushed;
crushed into
sand, drinking
down the
hour-
glass, breaking
my old
childish
view of time
and turning
years into
short skimpy
measurements
of forever,
and
timid me, i for-
get
that
its OK
to form
a conscience
once in a
very
great
while.) and
the cat
yawns
and takes
a nap.
(10/28/02)
~~
senior year john rogers
the guidance councilors rattle on and on,
and the girls smile and smile,
and the jocks look like tough
confident assholes,
and the teachers speak and speak
to the mindless children
(zombies waiting to join society
preppared and ready to conform)
and the girls smile and smile,
and the lockers look grayer and older,
and there is noise in halls,
in classrooms, but no sense in the noise,
and the misfits remain misfits,
miserable and happy, shabby clothes
reeking of smoke and cheap collonge,
holding pens in clean hands,
clutching worn notebooks
diary keys to masterpieces,
and the jocks are tough
confident assholes
and the girls just smile and smile.
(9/3/02)
~~
"Casemoney" by John Rogers
The old man's breasts sag
as his feet
beat concrete.
he moves against traffic,
wind.
The mind's eye focuses
and he becomes
a turtle
wearing reflective shorts.
It's 88 degrees in the shade
and sweat runs down his back
like ants down a hill
and his shell
begins to resemble
his shorts.
there are four of us.
sitting
talking loudly of video games
awful B movies.
Chris and i eating
a trayload of food
he has purchased
for us to share.
Pete keeps trying to steal
french fries.
Marty sits across from me.
he's already eaten.
(when i move away/grow older
these will be the things i
miss.
sitting
in McDonalds
laughing and farting.
just me
Chris
Marty
and Pete.)
we let Pete eat some of our
fries.
Chris and i have finished our
burgers.
i consider all four of us
beautiful poets.
Marty, writing once in a while
Pete writing perhaps secret
and not showing me much
Chris and i
just word fiends
filling unpublishable volumes.
four poets.
we finish our food,
get in my car
and leave.
i miss us already.
(1/31/02)
~~
"before work" John Rogers, ©2005
he sits on the
wet patio
of the store,
smoking nervously.
why is he nervous?
I ask myself.
he's one of the calmest
guys I know.
he is silent
and looks lost.
the sky
is orange
red
violet
with the throes of dusk.
he watches the sky
looking for birds
or
angels, perhaps
even a miracle.
(1/30/02)
~~
"notes before two naps" by john rogers
watching ) the cat
lurks larger
than
life,
as she licks
her claws; toes;
tail, sides...)
and
i
think
about the
sunspots that formed
on
my corneas
during child-
hood
and were
removed once
i grew teen-
aged
and weary,
tired of slouching
in pews
at desks,
of standing
at attention
while a
war
on imagination
was
being
lost.
the leaves
brown and
flung
terribly,
were disrupted
in their rake
prison trash-
bags,
the sweeping sad-
ness of the comedic
tragedyof life
(or is it
a tragic
comedy?) being
brought into
light, so as
to be
revealed; the errors
of human life
were so clear
when my eyes
could see
again.
life
was not always precious,
dreams
could be crushed;
crushed into
sand, drinking
down the
hour-
glass, breaking
my old
childish
view of time
and turning
years into
short skimpy
measurements
of forever,
and
timid me, i for-
get
that
its OK
to form
a conscience
once in a
very
great
while.) and
the cat
yawns
and takes
a nap.
(10/28/02)
~~
senior year john rogers
the guidance councilors rattle on and on,
and the girls smile and smile,
and the jocks look like tough
confident assholes,
and the teachers speak and speak
to the mindless children
(zombies waiting to join society
preppared and ready to conform)
and the girls smile and smile,
and the lockers look grayer and older,
and there is noise in halls,
in classrooms, but no sense in the noise,
and the misfits remain misfits,
miserable and happy, shabby clothes
reeking of smoke and cheap collonge,
holding pens in clean hands,
clutching worn notebooks
diary keys to masterpieces,
and the jocks are tough
confident assholes
and the girls just smile and smile.
(9/3/02)
~~
"Casemoney" by John Rogers
The old man's breasts sag
as his feet
beat concrete.
he moves against traffic,
wind.
The mind's eye focuses
and he becomes
a turtle
wearing reflective shorts.
It's 88 degrees in the shade
and sweat runs down his back
like ants down a hill
and his shell
begins to resemble
his shorts.