Michael Grover

White Pride

“White Pride” by David J. Thompson

The Muse Is Automatic

I have learned to live with Poetry
To dedicate my life to something
I have learned to be poor
Me & my books
Papers, pens, printed Poems everywhere
A painting by Jack Micheline on the wall
Because it makes me happy
It’s just a mess
A living breathing temple to Poetry
Now they tell me I can’t do this
Well they’d just like me to do it somewhere else
But the muse is automatic

Where will my library go
These books I’ve drug all over the country
So many books, so much magic
So many nights of companionship
More reliable than any person
Now they tell me I can’t do this
Well they’d just like me to do it somewhere else
But the muse is automatic
All these voices, these Poems
To translate this language
In all of this chaos
& make sense of it all

All of the music in my computer
Where will it go
Nowhere
All of that wonderful music
Vanishing into cyberspace
So many nights setting the mood
The mood of the Poem
Now they tell me I can’t do this
Well they’d just like me to do it somewhere else
But the muse is automatic
It just slips into that groove
Like breath

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Michael Grover

Granada Chimp

“Granada Chimp” by David J. Thompson

Glenwood

Water in the radiator
Plays music all night long
It’s an ancient song
Tonight it is telling me I am safe & warm
Freezing air outside
That’s been nipping at our throats like pit bulls
Our lives transient
Around us in boxes
Water in the radiator
Plays music all night long
It’s an ancient song
Tonight it tells me we are safe & warm

Michael Grover

times by swadesh misra
“Times” by Swadesh Misra
 

Confessions Of An american Outlaw #363

(Transmissions For Jack Spicer #14)

Heart is so monstrous and naked that the world recoils
Words rising in my head
No one cares about heart anymore
No blood, no soul
Nobody wants to hear the truth
Curse of the damned Poet
& heart can be a dark lonely place
head can be a dark lonely place
Too much hate we all try to avoid
Too much regret
Too much good american ambition
& what good red blooded american
Does not enjoy football on a Sunday afternoon

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Michael Grover

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Spraypainted Reminder by Kristin Fouquet

Writing Viciously

To write viciously
Cleaning the mind of words
To scratch on the page with a pen
Ink like blood
Scratched on bleached white flesh
Words tattooed on flesh
Is to speak your mind
Is to not want the other person
To see what you’re writing about them
Because it’s too fucking honest
Is in another state of mind
Consciousness
Is to not give a fuck
About the asskissers anymore
None of that shit is Poetic
Is to be terrified
That you might not write enough

More about Kristin Fouquet