Submissions by ohpunk (Christopher Russell)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Chris R
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
5th Dec 2010 2:46pm
5th Dec 2010 2:46pm
How the Dead Eat
It is amazing that by simply lying there,
unable to move or think or feel,
the dead still continue to eat,
though they may not be able to hold a knife
or scoop butter out of a tub,
you’ll never see the dead at a dinner table for example,
he still manages to fill himself,
not with a Big Mac or a Maine lobster,
but with something else, something extraordinary,
something like compassion.
unable to move or think or feel,
the dead still continue to eat,
though they may not be able to hold a knife
or scoop butter out of a tub,
you’ll never see the dead at a dinner table for example,
he still manages to fill himself,
not with a Big Mac or a Maine lobster,
but with something else, something extraordinary,
something like compassion.
274 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
5th Dec 2010 2:44pm
5th Dec 2010 2:44pm
Choices
I’m sure there are many exceptions,
but these days, choices, for the most part,
aren’t encouraged to go underground and be alone
with only their creativity and inventiveness to guide them.
Nor are they encouraged to make their own freedom,
so, of course, when I was a choice,
I had to go underground
in order to simply be,
and how much I loved knowing
that nothing could get into me,
that I could do whatever I wanted:
Make candles, look at...
but these days, choices, for the most part,
aren’t encouraged to go underground and be alone
with only their creativity and inventiveness to guide them.
Nor are they encouraged to make their own freedom,
so, of course, when I was a choice,
I had to go underground
in order to simply be,
and how much I loved knowing
that nothing could get into me,
that I could do whatever I wanted:
Make candles, look at...
213 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
5th Dec 2010 00:49am
5th Dec 2010 00:49am
The Secret
Sometimes I think the idea of death and destruction
is just an excuse to not have to take your own life up inyour hands
and toss yourself in the air,
because feeling that free and important is a shock
that’shard to endure,
which kind of makes me wonder
in my inebriated clown sort ofway
maybe that tornadoes happen all the time, all around us,
and that a destruction path one would ordinarily assume to be made by a tornado
isn’t necessarily an indicator that a tornado was present,
like maybe just thinking about a tornado
sort of...
is just an excuse to not have to take your own life up inyour hands
and toss yourself in the air,
because feeling that free and important is a shock
that’shard to endure,
which kind of makes me wonder
in my inebriated clown sort ofway
maybe that tornadoes happen all the time, all around us,
and that a destruction path one would ordinarily assume to be made by a tornado
isn’t necessarily an indicator that a tornado was present,
like maybe just thinking about a tornado
sort of...
289 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
5th Dec 2010 00:33am
5th Dec 2010 00:33am
Sorry for the Self Discovery Channel
But life has taught me
that no matter how much I might want to free
my spirit from the body that is it’s box,
let go of my ideas about what’s possible
and sort of drop them into Fate,
it’s the reality that life comes to an end
that makes the body and the mind
inherently worthy of an eternal life
expanding moments into perspective.
But when I think vainly
about my body speaking to millions
and being adored for it’s capacity to invoke feeling,
I’m reminded of that time
...
that no matter how much I might want to free
my spirit from the body that is it’s box,
let go of my ideas about what’s possible
and sort of drop them into Fate,
it’s the reality that life comes to an end
that makes the body and the mind
inherently worthy of an eternal life
expanding moments into perspective.
But when I think vainly
about my body speaking to millions
and being adored for it’s capacity to invoke feeling,
I’m reminded of that time
...
232 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
2nd Dec 2010 8:28pm
2nd Dec 2010 8:28pm
Into Where Happiness Just Won't End
Is this face smiling
some potion of
endorphins and gray matter
peanut butter and jellying me
onto two slices of Time,
one slice for the future’s pie hole,
the other for the past’s,
both connected by some shared colon
sphinctering me out
into a practically unbearable present?
I’m sure the secret to understanding
what it means to be happy
must lie underneath some taboo door,
hiding in the stink our backsides
each time we turn the clouds around
to...
some potion of
endorphins and gray matter
peanut butter and jellying me
onto two slices of Time,
one slice for the future’s pie hole,
the other for the past’s,
both connected by some shared colon
sphinctering me out
into a practically unbearable present?
I’m sure the secret to understanding
what it means to be happy
must lie underneath some taboo door,
hiding in the stink our backsides
each time we turn the clouds around
to...
229 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
2nd Dec 2010 8:19pm
2nd Dec 2010 8:19pm
Two Squirrels
You should have seen them.
One sent the other one off across the road
the way a father drops his son off at college.
One sent the other one off across the road
the way a father drops his son off at college.
179 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by ohpunk (Christopher Russell)
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