Underground Poets Society of 2012

I haven’t been blogging on here for a bit. I’ve been writing a lot of poetry lately and posting it on a poetry page on Facebook. I’ll be publishing a poetry collection by October for the Underground Modern Poets of 2012 book.

Here’s a few samples

BLOODY TOILS

by Tara Seuss

…. my blood is boiling over and over. yes, it is over. make this nightmare stop. stop fucking asking me please, stop everything. stop you. you make me blue, i want you to be fucking true and i want to kill you. i want to kill these toils, troubles and fucking bubbles you cause, fuck off i’m sorry (audience please applause). burn burn, oh yeah, you’re gonna burn- kid you have no idea how much you have to learn. first lesson, you have to give if you want to earn. correction, put that lesson back on the shelf……your only hope is to be someone else. amen.

• Comfort
• By Art Glibfunny
  it was a box
  just a box
  a small
  red
  rectangular
  cardboard box
  with big
  bright
  yellow cages on it
  containing confectionary animals
  from worlds away
  a consumable passport
  to happiness

  it had a string
  to carry it
  and
  it brought joy
  and happiness
  while
  begging great
  questions about
  life at large
  and my place in the
  world
  in the
  young
  comfort
  thank you mom
  days of my
  bologna
  mustard
  and lettuce
  wax paper
  wrapped
  lunch box
  childhood

  even today
  as I cradle
  the red
  cardboard
  box
  and enjoy
  a flat cookie creature
  from the
  flour zoo
  I am
  transported back
  from my jaded
  wake up
  nap time is over
  tired
  adult
  traveled path
  to the buster brown
  saddle shoe
  milk and
  graham cracker
  comfort and
  innocence
  so vital to
  happy longevity
  and the
  human condition

• SQt 2010

Untitled by Ilan Miller

My heart is a proximity mine, send in the dogs, pull the pin, change the channel, and watch your step.

Don’t come in, the waters not fine, the rats are abandoning ship, your favorite show has been cancelled, and violence prevails.

Life has become a sad 80s montage, only dumbed down. The finish lines been burned, there is no consolation prize.

My personal hell has frozen over, I grab my glass, my icepick and my whiskey and I think of days long gone…

There’s many more and I’ll post some here and there. If I didn’t post yours it’s only because I chose a few random great poems. Like I said-More to come!