• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar

The Daily Dispatch

From NOEBIE.net

  • Home
  • About
  • Facebook
  • Flickr
  • IG
  • Kirtan
  • Tarot
  • Spirit

Original Poems

Journal, Pen and Mug

The poems and lyrics included here have been written in the 21st Century. They are presented without context or unifying theme, other than my own halting pen, eclectic interests and prodigal nature.

Many, though by no means all, of them were written using Burroughs' cut-up technique, which is one of my favorite tools for getting my ego out of the way of the creative energy.

With Each New Lunacy

Brian K. Noe · October 2, 2019 ·

to call that man
a lunatic
is an
undeserved insult

to lunatics

we are caught
in an entertainment endeavor
that is fueled by outrage

i used to be outraged

now i am mostly sad
disoriented
a little confused

and more than a little frightened
because there is no normal

to get back to

that’s showbiz

Filed Under: Poetry

On Seeing a Tripod Dog

Brian K. Noe · September 9, 2019 ·

We pause at a stop sign on the way to school
Here comes a little black puffball
Skipping and hopping on the end of his lead
Dancing like popcorn in a hot skillet
As he and his tender approach
We see that his is missing a left front leg

Nonetheless whole
Joyful, he is

The Kid smiles broadly catching the man’s eye
And he smiles back

Joyful were we

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: Dog Poems, Dogs, Dogs and Kids

Sat Nam

Brian K. Noe · August 31, 2019 ·

Gentlest breeze and sweet smell
of incense
I am
the silent sentinel
at breath’s gate

Before the seat of the soul
mandalas flow and resolve
the orbit of a far off prayer
wheel their motive

the True Name
the Holy Name
is revealed once more

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: Mantra, Meditation, Poetry

Henlo Fren

Brian K. Noe · April 23, 2019 ·

My Fren is at the door.
Knock knock I can’t wait.
I run to door. I run to window. See!
I bark! I jump! Oh, Fren Fren Fren!

I jump on Fren’s leg.
They make me down.
I follow Fren to chair.

Fren says okay and I put paws on knee.
Fren touch my head and has soft voice.
I am good boy.
Fren says okay. I snug on lap.
Fren smells good like my favorite smell. Fren, oh Fren, oh Fren!

One day, Fren walks with stick.
They make me down.
Fren says down.
I go to Fren’s chair. Fren says down and pushes with stick.
I am bad boy.
Oh, Fren, I want sniffy sniff.

One day, Fren walks slow with stick.
Where is my good Fren favorite smell?
I down. They wag finger and say “Louie” at me. Mad at bad me.

I want one sniffy sniff.
Fren makes me down.

Why Fren punches my head?

Filed Under: Poetry

Have Nots After Ten

Brian K. Noe · April 22, 2019 ·

it was one school drop-off that set me back
the entire week stopped at the grocery store
the car pulled up, and blocked my delicate balance
i remembered

several things happened
remember

distributing might be easily upset
my mother always bit, despite working

people who do, and who are
tire others among us

just at the end of just down the road a ways
he made eye contact
being silently filled with rage at symbolized justice
I watched him walk on people who possess it

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: Cut-Up Technique, Poverty, Six of Pentacles, Tarot, Ten of Pentacles

He Smoked Luckies

Brian K. Noe · June 9, 2017 ·

He smoked Luckies
And he was a Dodgers fan

I remember watching him shave
With an electric of some sort
And he was a Protestant
And a Kentuckian
And a Democrat

Beyond that I have no idea

Did he shoot Winchester or Remington?
What was his aftershave?

His reels, I’m sure, were Shakespeares
After he died, Mom sold most of his tackle

My sister watched me salt a beer once
And said
“Daddy used to do that.”

It was then that I realized
I’d spent fifty years
Chasing a ghost

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: Dad, Elegy, Masculinity, RItual

The Saint of Entrance Avenue

Brian K. Noe · May 23, 2016 ·

He paces
With hands waving and flapping
Electric Slide
Humpty Dance
Prayer

His orange hair
pops to and fro
like a bobber

Since prison, he doesn’t like to be kept inside.

He is on this corner early every morning
and again at 3 o’clock
the hour that his Lord
gave up the ghost

He used to be a hustler

Now all he does is pray

Those who sometimes go out of the way
to pass by his corner
shout from the car

Bless you my brother
Pray for us

You know I will!

Flash of smile
Back to his duty
Electric Slide
Humpty Dance
Prayer

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: Characters, Faith, Kankakee, Prayer, Redemption, Street Life

Obama Took My Lawn-Boy

Brian K. Noe · April 29, 2016 ·

I should have heeded the warning signs
First it was my lightbulbs
Then they came after my junk food
And by the time
They got to
My Lawn-Boy
I was too blind and hungry
To fight

Now I’m tripping over this electric cord
And walking behind a puny seventeen inch deck

And not a hard working immigrant with a Weed Eater
Anywhere to be found
Deported, one and all

The lawns of Suburbia must
From time to time be refreshed
From the oil cans of patriots
And tyrants

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: Government, Humor, Immigration, Immigration Policy, Incandescent Bulbs, Junk Food, Obama, Parody, Rednecks, Suburbia, Suburbs

with our current knows

Brian K. Noe · February 18, 2016 ·

I am totally wise to that Donald Trump.
Faith is President.
no leader, especially

will not allow Christianity to be

all talk, no action
one
disgraceful

The Pope only heard

If and when
as everyone
the Vatican is
unlike what is happening now

they are using the Pope and our leadership in every aspect

and as President I happened. I of negotiation.
I am proud to be a pawn
and they should be
consistently attacked and weakened

ISIS would have eradicated the Mexican government and its leadership in the United States

would have been

is happening now

He doesn’t see how
Trafficking and the negative
economic impact
didn’t see the crime

the Mexican leadership is outsmarting President Obama to question another man’s religion or faith.

Crime, the drug.

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: America, Cut-Up Technique, Politics, Pope Francis, Trump

sister scarecrow hair

Brian K. Noe · February 3, 2016 ·

she came to me in a dream again
with wild scarecrow hair
biting her lower lip
eyes wide as a child’s

a lifetime ago
we were partners in mischief
disguised as suits in the daytime
headbangers after 5

it was like an elaborate joke
that no one else was in on

a conspiracy
for subversion
for world domination
they never knew what hit them

wolves in wolves’ clothing

we were the smartest people in nearly any room
and we could read each other’s minds

people assumed we were lovers
not true

the truth is we adored each other
and we invented an elaborate joke
an intricate game
that no one could have invented
and that only we could play

once in awhile
with scarecrow hair my erstwhile sister
pops in to a dream
to remind me

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: Dreams, Friendship, Old Friends

  • « Go to Previous Page
  • Go to page 1
  • Go to page 2
  • Go to page 3
  • Go to page 4
  • Go to Next Page »

Primary Sidebar

FREE SPEECH PRACTICED HERE
Linking does not necessarily constitute endorsement.

Categories

  • Audio
  • Commentary
  • Curated Links
  • Essays
  • Events
  • Explaining Socialism to Kids
  • General
  • Interviews
  • Lest We Forget
  • Memes
  • Music
  • News
  • Notes From The Field
  • Other Content
  • Pictures
  • Podcasting
  • Poetry
  • Projects
  • Quotes
  • Reports
  • Resources
  • Video
NWU Logo
Member
National Writers Union

Copyright © 2021 · Daily Dish Pro on Genesis Framework · WordPress · Log in