Living Gets Lost in War

It was somewhere in Vegas

disco hallucination

put out the fire

extinguisher off the wall

blowing smoke

down

the hall with fogged up

faces

brothers just raging

I think she was

Romanian and I cant

stay here

my pants are in

a stairwell

these lights suggest

I’m going to jail

red, white and blue

broken

bottles bled us

open

like street lights

flooding the cement

searching

for death

in the desert

searching for tomorrow

with casino

eyes rolling back

the mind

for a moment

gambling on the

men

we will become

 

*******************************************

Prompt #2 really not sure about this one. I used "disco hallucination" from the text. I know the length is off.

Plywood Walls

There is a brothel

hanging

on my ceiling

what is it about the

unfamiliar

that keeps me so

comforted

at 12am on the top

bed

of a bunk I used to

share

with a kid from

Sarasota

who liked to strum

to Dylan

on the beach

who picked flowers

for a girl

he loved since the

7^th grade

who bled out like a

broken levee

in the back of a half

blown up

humvee

as shrapnel pierced his

19yr old neck

while I clinched tightly his

19yr old hand

and told him everything was

fine

as I watched life drain

slowly

out of his 19yr old

eyes

and I don’t even know

the name

of the guy who killed

him

and I probably won’t

know

the name of the guy who

will kill me

and I definitely don’t know

the names

of any of these women

staring down from the

ceiling

but they are here

tonight

I’m somehow how still here

too

and for the moment everything

really is

just fine

 

Update On Prjoect and Other Things...

Chapbook, well it's coming along. I'm a bit stumped on cover art as of the moment. I really want to use a picture that is of somebody I know, because I have so many military picture....however I can't seem to find one that works all that great. So I might be venturing into the online world of stock photography shortly. Other than that though I think I'm on schedule to get things quite finalized on Lulu by this weekend. Which let's face it, is kind of exciting.

As for submissions, I just submitted my poem "Snapped" to Diagram...which I think is a bit out of my league, but you know it never hurts to try right? And I submitted "Snapped", "Behind the Wire", "You're Not Here" and "Camouflaged" to Madcap Review...it seemed like a nice place to submit, and I was sort of drawn to the name Madcap. I will bring proof of said submission to class to night though.

So that's it, I'm probably going to upload the poetry prompts in a bit, but other than that I guess it's time to knock out the anthology and the chapbook.

I came down with a cold/sore throat yesterday, and am currently running off of a mix of caffeine and cold/sinus medicine...but getting sick before finals week is just a thing to be expected. I always tell myself that Michael Jordan played one of his best games with the flu....it just keeps me positive.

Ashberry Imitation Assignment

The City in July

No, tomorrow is not just a

thing we should expect to

come along and follow our

every today like a shadow.

Or that even this moment is

as concreted as New York.

Where you, o darling, stroll

through the ins and outs of my

mind like the back alley veins

of this city, leaving an impression

on my every thought like the dog

days of summer teaching me to bark.

Camouflaged

Exercise #3

But let me ask you just one last time. Does this match? Do we

match? Let’s blend in to keep ourselves hidden, protected,

conformed with one another. I know what you are going to

say now. Did I wear this dress for you? The answer is no. Or

maybe it isn’t. Do I look like her? I could be exotic too. I can

say words like cantina. And I know a place downtown that

makes really good carnitas. I don’t smell anything like Colom-

bia though. And you can’t fall heavy in my midnight eyes. Mine

are hazel. My mind is hazel. Muted now for the most part. I feel

camouflaged. Falling apart into everything. Unnoticed. Can you

see me? I lied. I did wear this for you. Who else would I wear it

for? Him? He was just complimenting my legs. Really. It was just

the one time. Can you forgive me? Can we forgive each other?

The universe divides us with invisible lines. Lines crossed. Lines

wrapping around you with gravitational pull. You have a choice.

Here is the equator. Are you coming home? Do you even remember

how to get here from there? I can give you the coordinates. What did

you find in the jungle? Men growing money? Or yourself? It wasn’t

me. I’m here. Disguised as a memory. Your memory. And you can’t

find me. You’ve lost me somewhere in the landscape of your mind.

Are you a sniper rifle? Will you heat seek missile me? Do you care?

I’m over there. Between dream sequence and the part of your brain

that registers pain. This system is making me nervous. Let’s get

out of here. Lose our heads all together. Trade them with strangers.

Go on with our lives unrecognized. Here put this hat on. Doesn’t

that look better?

12 Minute Poem

Sliders

I'd like to use somebody else's
hands

Preferably yours

Holding me like
a screwdriver

Keeping us
in place

When we egg drop
soup

Crack and disconnect
like static

Scattering the outside
of a balloon

Electrical residue
catching our tongues

Like falling gospel
droplets

Axed

Out of holy water
like a remedy

Run Wild (by Chad Forbregd)

Once I was little. I said my prayers,
I took my vitamins,
and yet I still went wrong.
The truth is, Cleopatra was Greek,
not Egyptian.
She liked her coffee fiery,
bolt cutter strong.
Once, after a shower,
I saw her without makeup.
Like dreams she looked real.
She moved like an animal
or child. Like a shark
she swims backwards in secret.
She liked Miller 64
and lightening bugs.
Her eyes were an extension of the atmosphere.
The truth is sometimes my loneliness gets lonely.
Lonely like the human heart
I have never had to resuscitate.
I spent my childhood saying
somethings in life are real enough for me.

*****************************
I'm in love with the way this poem moves in and out of all these ideas that don't always relate, but work together in the weird world that has been created here. Chad just has the natural ability to wind around like this and land on lines like She liked her coffee fiery/bolt cutter strong or she swims backwards in secret. I'm always thoroughly impressed with Chad's poems and this was no exception. He keeps the same tone here as he does with other poems even though I believe this form differs from most of his others. His confident tone also increases how true his poems feel...even when it's not possible that they are. Well not for the most part.