batman

ok, so it goes like this
let's say you haven't had sex with your girlfriend
for at least a month
forget about the reasons
sometimes you need to forget to stay alive

and then, an accident
something you had not planned on
but you cheat on her
with a prostitute
a young beautiful prostitute
petite, brunette
the type of girl you really get crazy about
you spot her, go upstairs and do her

it turns out she's smart
and it's her first week there
you fall for her
you really really fall in love
you go back
you love your girlfriend
but you keep going back
paying for it
and you pay
I'm not talking 'bout money now
you just pay
with your life

take batman, for instance
nothing like this would have ever happened to him
first, because he is crazy
he's had these beautiful chicks
who even make passes at him
gorgeous women
kim basinger
michelle pfeiffer
nicole kidman
katie holmes
ok, not katie holmes, but anyway
he's a millionaire
and he's disturbed
like, they fuckin' killed his parents when he was a kid
and he can't do woman

so, nothing like this would have ever happened to batman

gee, batman

how I hate that guy


val ordoñez (Ft. Lauderdale, FL, 1982)

bones

halfway to your heart
i found stones and even sticks
that broke my bones
into a thousand pieces

where to go from here
is still uncertain
when you dwelve in disdain
time folds over like a curtain

hello, you said, after school
i kept walking
pretending i had not heard you
hey, i'm sorry, you shouted even louder

and my broken bones cracked once again
torn with the pain
eroded, sandblasted, stone washed
like little marbles


magela eastman (Young, RN, 1990)

the number you requested is no longer available

i got an overseas addiction
a long distance affliction
that pierces through me
throwing me into oblivion

i have heard the world is smaller
but it has not stopped getting bigger for me
since that last day we saw
at the metro station

i wish i heard back from you
i long
i sleep
i try

to forget

the number you requested is no longer available
a female voice said
but to me
it sounded like "you are such a big loser, you idiot"


norberto mendoza (Chicago, IL, 1976)

young girl at the gate of an empty park

she was small and looked even smaller
her long unkempt hair messed up by the wind
she was not waiting, only standing

school work was stuffed in a heavy back pack
the trails of tears still fresh over her blank cheeks
it was cold and she was cold

the empty park she feared most
so she refused to enter
holding a dried rose in her left hand

a girl her age shouldn't be afraid
everybody expects so much
everything looks so confusing

she was just sixteen
and wouldn't exchange her world of colors
for nothing

holding on she stood
at the gates of the empty park
not waiting, just standing

as years went by


eliza bertolotti (Hoboken, NJ, 1981)

behold, the american idol

the american idol was some guy from guatemala
or honduras, i can't remember exactly
(i got tons of hate mail for that confusion)
let's agree he was from some country in central america
(fascist they called me, the gentler ones)
and he was the winner of a television singing contest

behold, the american idol
thou shalt worship yer teenage deity
let his singing guide us in the darkness

believing hurts
god's been on vacation
for a long time now
enjoying the amenities
of his time share
(god, don't let them fool you into buying an upgrade)

i look around but people have gathered in the arena
to see the idol from a safe distance
i feel alone
i see the dawn of the darkest age
no rat in a cage
no pig on antibiotics
just an outcast
a non believer
the last scum on earth


julian bailey (Tucson, AZ, 1977)

why atomic bombs are wrong wrong wrong (part one)

what's been said has not been said
but i should not apply
even though the mighty slap
fell over me not twice but thrice
in the path of darkness
i shall rest upending in my final nest
whether you come with me or not
can't you see i'm drowning
can you

look

this time will be the last
long gone is my blast, i wanted to be an astronaut
call it a cook in space
just like you dismissed my job as an air steward
time will do the rest
crest
white teeth of glamour bent
midnight movies i have seen much worse
coarse
jesus is a sticker on you bumper
riding bicycles like a hangman
collecting sea shells makes you wonder how

see

this is me at my worst
this is who you shouldn't have met
taking pills like mentos fresh

like

like not
alive in a city of the dead
flooded by chocolate seas
let time do the rest

rotten
inside
alone
and sad


david weinglas (Montevideo, MN, 1978)

climb a juniper, touch the sky

i walked past the lake
crying a river after the sunset
with your voice echoing
in between the crackling foliage

or was it the wind?

this is a pain unknown
the one you inflicted me
with hollow tales
just promises
your tried and dirty tricks

i could call you brute
names
tear away the pages
of that self help book you gave me
move out of town and wash away my sorrow

i could kill you in my dreams
cry not a river
but all the lakes
climb a juniper
touch the sky

come down
and torch your house
watch you burn
burn
burn

that would make me happy


beatrice kaplan (Pembroke, NH, 1985)

to a girl i just saw on the bus and fell deeply in love with but probably won't see ever again

a sudden full stop woke me up
but i was more beshaken by your eyes
green and vast
like the oceans of my childhood
clear yet mysterious all the way

you were listening to who knows what
on your obviously counterfeit ipod
i just couldn't help staring
at your genuine, striking beauty

your black black hair tied with a red band
the stained and battered beige coat
tiny silvery strings on your multicolor scarf
a chupa chups in the side pocket of your backpack

there you were
standing with your educated middle-class dignity
crushed between strangers at rush hour
on a proudly refurbished metrobus

then it happened
the elusive instant our eyes crossed
a fraction of a second
just a little fraction

but you got off
looking somewhat bothered
ran into someone you probably didn't know very well
and disappeared in the crowd


daniel bennett (Washington, DC, 1979)

the problem with kids today

the problem with kids today
is that they want it all
the old man said
sitting on a bench
in the empty park

the problem with kids today
dear friend
is that nobody will listen to them
baby boomers aging badly
gen-xers doing coke
raising picture perfect families

smile
say cheese
lost children of the present past
cereal meals
no crayons but psps
achieve
excel
perform

being is just not good enough


jonah peters (Chapel Hill, NC, 1982)

numb

i wish i could write the saddest verses tonight
but i just can't
i have travelled for maybe an hour on a bus
looking out of the window, biting my already short fingernails
staring at the lightpoles, the deadly yellowish light
the homeless digging inside trash containers
people like zombies trolling the streets
their faces erased with boredeom and gloom
i have travelled and then walked a few blocks
hiding my face from the damp wind of the river like a sea
we the people are the worst plague on this earth
i walk the stairs to my apartment
i heat frozen food in a microwave oven
i eat and leave my dish unfinished
brush my teeth
and curl inside my bed
wishing i could feel different
or at least
feel something


john michael roberts (Los Angeles, CA, 1968)

to a poet five minutes hence

for James Elroy Flecker






i who am still living
and just posted these sweet verses on the net
saw you logged into messenger
but your status was out to lunch

i care not if you do porn
or dive secure e-commerce sites
or leech in alienated chat rooms
of boredom or out of lack of some real intimacy

but have you beer and illegal mp3s still
and viruses and a life size inflatable doll
and depraved thoughts of food and pills
and players to them net games aloft?

how shall you conquer? like katrina
that breaks levees and the poor drown
and old mcdonald had a farm
said he there had some weed should we go

o friend unsigned, unranked, well known (i just googled you)
student of our sweet Chinese tongue
read out my words at night, online:
i am a poet, i am young

since i just saw your facebook
and added you as my friend
i send my soul as an attachment through wires and space
to greet you. you will download


steven h. connely (Portland, OR, 1973)

More on James Elroy Flecker at Wikipedia and Project Gutenberg

angry afternoon

thirty years old
pennyless
unpublished
straight

what's a man to do?

yes, there are friends
long distance relatives
extended family
broadband internet connection
low fare airlines
blackberries
and myspace

yes, there is belgian beer
thai food
taiwanese movies
discount coupons
advil and klonopin

but sometimes none of the above
makes the cut
more often than not
i feel angry
enraged
rotten
tired
and alone


howard b. eisenberg (Providence, RI, 1977)

heat

your passion is on overdrive
i linger behind your steps
what on earth are you doing
who are you, anyway

these lost verses of yesteryear
are no longer here
calm down and reach out
for it is me who cannot steer

away

i am pleased to please your demons
and i cried when i chopped you onions
he thought it would be a great companion
but was just overdosing on playstation

go home
run away

make yourself some time
feel the heat
burn the pain away
and sleep


reginaldo farías (Tampa, FL, 1969)

ok, wait, let's finish eating and thenwe can discuss our breaking up

i cooked for you
capers and all
a touch of basil
just as you loved it

i cooked for you that night
under the yellow light of the desert night
it was your choice living in nevada
and that winter i couldn't feel happier

i cooked for you
and you had something to say, you said
you seemed uneasy
you had had that look for at least a month

i thought you were pregnant
but you just wanted to break up
let's finish dinner first
and we can talk about it later

a caper got stuck in my throat
a damn greasy caper
and you did nothing
not even the heimlich

bitch


stewart pellegrino (Hoboken, NJ, 1972)

bad trip

        there was you
        sittin' at the edge of the table
        talkin' bout bob dylan
        speedballs, metamphetamines
5     and things you never tried

        there was you
        talkative as ever
        displaying your grandeur
        entering the smoke circle
10    with an awful grin on your face

        i don't know bout you
        but i remember everything
        and i would slap you in the face
        if i could

15    i just don't know
        dream of getting off me
        breathe again
        and close the door
        will you?


         edward h. maller (Athens, GA, 1981)

self portrait

        i can't see
        the glass is stained
        our pockets emptied and broken umbrellas
        lost in unbearable tormentas

5     well you could have treated me better
       well i could have waited just a little more

        she will be back
        the baby is born
        and i still hear you
10    in dreams and thoughts

        well i could have waited
        well you could have just
        spared some of your love
        i wanted it so badly, you know

15    there was no signature in your letter
        no evil in your acts
        let me hop back in your little boat
        and sail away
        until the end of this brown and deadly river


         david weinglas (Montevideo, MN, 1978)