Poems that I did this weekend (9.12.15 – 9.14.15)

That Look by Basil Jackson

Have I seen that look before?
and lips and concentrated brows
and a late evening dinner?

Have I seen Mary, a changed woman,
Washing the garments of this man,
shiny as a new Mustang
while the old one collects rust?

Have I seen spots on your, vivid spots
with a flicker of muscles that meant:
we cannot stay here for long.

Have I seen Paradise in your arms
and men with lost loves, lost triumphs,
and you among the victors cheering?

Have I seen you dans la petite mort
teetering between loves and triumphs,
and to the friends you bragged to
to tell lies of conquest, expedition, and dancing,
of feelings, wine or Marvin Gaye,
any Hugh Hefner of action of the sort
marching on their way to such a small death?

Have I seen that graceful gesture before
trying to say with the jut of those lips
something the only wonders?
Did I see a late evening Dinner?


What is Average? By Basil Jackson

Everyone has their days apparently,

But that’s not to say I don’t have mine

I sit here and I think to myself:

Is this the day? Will I break this curse?

On the average day, the answer is in the negative.

On the average day, I refuse to rise to the challenge

On the average day, I sloth and shrink back into my shell

On the average day, I am merely a puppet to distraction

Yet what is average?

Even more, is this average?

Recombine The Averages by Basil Jackson

On the average day, I sloth and shrink back into my shell

On the average day, I am merely a puppet to distraction

Yet what is average?

Even more, is this average?

I sit here and I think to myself:

Is this the day? Will I break this curse?

On the average day, the answer is in the negative.

On the average day, I refuse to rise to the challenge

Everyone has their days apparently,

But that’s not to say I don’t have mine


The State of the Poetry by Basil Jackson

Wow, that poem was good.

Wow, that poem was really fucking good. It made me think about why we exist, that’s pretty deep.

Wow, that poem was really fucking good, it should be a story. It made me think back to a conversation I had last week about why we exist, that’s not the most entertaining thing to talk about but it’s pretty deep. I wish more people appreciated poetry in their own way.

Wow, that poem was really fucking good, it should be a part of a story. It made me think back to a conversation I had last week with my brother about why we exist, that’s not the most entertaining thing to talk about but it’s pretty deep. I wish more people appreciated poetry in their own way, rather than just shitting on the genre of writing. But man, if I had a quarter.

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