 |
Login
|
Don't have an account yet? You can create one. As a registered user you can submit your poetry, receive the newsletter, and post comments with your name.
|
|
Previous Poetry
| Monday, November 17 | | · | Feather and Ink (7) |
| Saturday, November 15 | | · | Chris Ti....... na luve yo! (14) |
| · | show you how to die (14) |
| Tuesday, November 11 | | · | a lover's song (20) |
| · | not another love song (20) |
| Monday, November 10 | | · | In Her Skin (22) |
| · | Thy Handiwork (19) |
| Saturday, November 08 | | · | THE KNIGHT OF DARKNESS (27) |
| Wednesday, October 22 | | · | My Romance (29) |
| Sunday, October 19 | | · | SHE IS WITH GOD (34) |
| Monday, October 13 | | · | How I killed my Father (43) |
| Sunday, October 12 | | · | I ONLY SEE INJUSTICE (44) |
| · | NOT AWAKE~ (42) |
| · | YOU FORGOT TO REMOVE THE ROCKS~ (40) |
| Sunday, September 28 | | · | your shadow rising to meet you (53) |
| · | Picture frame (51) |
| Wednesday, September 24 | | · | shaking in our sleep (67) |
| · | Our Own Hell (61) |
| Saturday, September 20 | | · | Collect call (63) |
| · | The Intercourse (58) |
| · | Andréness (60) |
| Thursday, September 11 | | · | Lit Cigarette (81) |
| Saturday, August 30 | | · | Huey Lewis and the News (83) |
| Wednesday, August 27 | | · | Poem (80) |
| Tuesday, August 12 | | · | right now (114) |
| · | right now (98) |
| · | understand (114) |
| · | a poets dishonor (100) |
| Monday, August 11 | | · | Anticipation (104) |
| · | WITHOUT YOUR LOVE~ (105) |
| Saturday, August 02 | | · | Confessions to myself (144) |
| · | So Cold (112) |
| Wednesday, July 23 | | · | tuesdays (113) |
| Monday, July 21 | | · | Their Mother Saw God. (126) |
| Wednesday, July 16 | | · | A Grove of Beachfoot Wanderers, Idolizing. (127) |
| Thursday, July 10 | | · | Never Nowhere (153) |
| Tuesday, July 08 | | · | Postmortem Hypostasis (149) |
| Monday, July 07 | | · | Manipulator (145) |
| Saturday, June 28 | | · | Is It Over? (186) |
| · | depression (161) |
| Friday, June 27 | | · | The Right One (201) |
| Sunday, June 22 | | · | Mausoleum (167) |
| Sunday, June 15 | | · | be alright (208) |
| · | Hey There, Little Dandelion (182) |
| · | Take This To Heart (180) |
| · | Reasurance (210) |
| · | I Haven't Been (177) |
| Saturday, June 14 | | · | HANK (172) |
| Friday, June 13 | | · | DADDY (196) |
| Thursday, June 12 | | · | Forty Years (189) |
More Previous Poetry
|
|
|  |
|
Posted by
on Tuesday, January 30 @ 17:04:38 UTC
|
|
|
: Matt Damon is One Hell of a Salesman
|
on Tuesday, January 30 @ 17:04:38 UTC
conect11 writes:: " Baby let's stay up all night,
and take a snowy trip to Super K
on Brookpark
for a Hawaiin shirt
which to this day is still my favorite
and the very basic necessities,
the simple bear necessities.
I scrambled Wednesday night
to find my paycheck
where Denise said she left it, panicked we'd have to take off
with out it.
Now that would have been a nightmare.
On little and no sleep
on your parents couch
we managed to cut it close at the airport.
Ears popped
and February snow gave way
to 80 degrees and palm trees.
Sin City,
it's excitement at our finger tips
and we do what suits us best:
sleep for the next
12 hours
in a comfortable hotel bed
over looking the culinary union.
Ohhhhhhhhh, there's irony in that.
I want to make the rickshaw drivers suffer
but I suppose your heart is more tender than mine on this one.
Evening dinner at where else? The Stratosphere buffet.
A word to the wide would have been nice,
seafood doesn't grow
in the middle of the desert,
but what the hell
it's vacation
and I am gorging.
I have rediscovered aquamassage,
and oxygen is for sale.
It's even flavored.
What is wonderful,
truly wonderful,
is that you and I can stroll through the mall at midnight,
baby, we never window shop anymore;
and I'd really like to do that with you.
Did we ever see those two show we got tickets for?
No, Matt Damon is one hell of a salesman
and he wore us out.
Now that, that is real work.
Yet still, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson
get their Saturday night date
at the hotel's Italian restaurant,
and a romantic view
and the top of a skyscraper.
But oh hell,
would we not pay for that
at three in the morning?
I've never wanted ginger ale and bitters
so desperately in my entire life.
Where is Matt Damon now?
Still trying to sell us weekly space
in the Polo Towers. II.
His cronies are nowhere to be seen.
It's a struggle packing up
for the trip back to snowy Cleveland,
the door on the Kia
is frozen open.
And there is a nervous Arab man
at the back of the plane,
but he will behave
for the rest of the flight.
"
|
| |
|
|
 |  |
 |
|
| ": Matt Damon is One Hell of a Salesman" | Login/Create an Account | 0 comments |
|
| | The comments are owned by the poster. We aren't responsible for their content. |
|
|
 |
|
 |
| |
|
|
Anonymous visitors are not allowed to comment - please register a Paradox Passport |
|
|
|
|
| |
Sponsor
|
Help Support Paradox
|
|
Poem's Rating
Average Score: 5
Votes: 1
|
|
|
|
| |
