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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.

the tree of libertarians

Brian K. Noe · March 26, 2013 ·

god forbid
we should ever be
twenty minutes without some grey haired white guy
casting swine before pearls

the people
cannot be all, and always
well informed

am i right?

lethargy

misconceptions

you have the right to
remain silent

and pardon my pacifier

but the blood of tyrants
will not be shed
by your update on facebook

Filed Under: Poetry

bereft

Brian K. Noe · March 22, 2013 ·

empty feeder sways
over the backyard terrace
birds have flown away

Filed Under: Poetry

sunday night

Brian K. Noe · October 28, 2012 ·

i look up to the heavens sunday night
if there’s a star up there to wish on
i don’t see it

if there’s a prayer
or an incantation
i don’t
know it

if there’s a reason
to believe

in anything

i suppose i believe
in leaving
well enough alone

i solemnly swear
or affirm

i swear

it’s not the tragedies that
kill us

it’s the paper
cuts

Filed Under: Poetry

that awkward thing

Brian K. Noe · June 21, 2012 ·

that awkward thing where
the woman who calls you her husband
reaches for your hand and tries to interlace fingers
she never does that – not in all these years
and it’s like somebody just tried to hand you a spider or
a bucket of something repulsive
and you pull your hand away and shudder

ew

was that out loud?

also, you’re in the same mall
where you strolled with your lover
just days ago
fingers interlaced

where you had your picture taken in one of those
coin-op photo booth things with the curtain

you still carry the pictures
of smiles and passionate kisses
in your wallet

and you’re coming upon the photo booth now

and the woman who calls you her husband
suddenly gets this great idea

Filed Under: Poetry

don’t walk – walk

Brian K. Noe · December 29, 2011 ·

he stands
blue
against a gray sky

memory

it’s loose gravel underfoot
you
remember one thing
you remember
another

and then the thing you wanted to forget

the bitter wind
chafes his cheeks

collar raised and
face set

he steps toward the abyss

Filed Under: Poetry

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