Greg, you are a dork.
Guest Appearing on the Colbert Report
Posted in Everyday Life, Ideas, Music, Poetry, Society, Things on 22 May 2009 - Friday by g mcclure“Do you know the enemy?,”
Green Day asked from my TV
in just the same meter I used
for those first two lines
and the same meter used
in a thousand lines
of a thousand punk songs
since punk music decided,
“Silence is the enemy!”
(Green Day screamed from my TV)
En la entrada de una meretriz
Posted in Espanol / Spanish, People, Poesía, Poetry, Things with tags Poesía, Poetry on 7 March 2009 - Saturday by g mcclure“Venga, y llame a mi puerta,” me dijo.
“Venga a pasar el día conmigo.
“No tengo ningún lugar para ir,
“No tienes ningún lugar para ir.
“Venga hacerme compañía.”
“Venga, y llame a mi puerta,” me dijo.
“Tengo en ningún lugar para ser.
“Estoy muy cansada,
“Estás muy cansado.
“Te haré compañía.”
“Venga, y llame a mi puerta,” me dijo.
“No estoy dormida todavía.
“Esperé bastante.
“Esperó bastante.
“Venga hacerme compañía.”
“Venga, y llame a mi puerta,” me dijo.
“Está deseando por mí.
“Tengo lo que quiere.
“Yo soy lo que quiere.
“Te haré compañía.”
“Venga, y llame a mi puerta,” me dijo.
“No necesitamos para sigilo.
“Sabes que me necesitas.
“Yo sé que me necesitas.
“Venga hacerme compañía.”
“Venga, y llame a mi puerta,” me dijo.
“Ven tan ansiosamente.
“No actúes tan sorpresa.
“No estás tan sorpresa.
“Soy tu idolatría.”
resentment
Posted in Affairs of the Heart, Ideas, Past experiences, People, Personal, Poetry, Posted by g mcclure, Things on 16 February 2009 - Monday by g mcclurehave you ever knocked on the door of a color
and invited it in for wine and cheese
before offering a full course of intimacy
and a small cup of coffee to sooth the sting
of your violent careless advances
and selfdisclosures made prematurely
in short have you ever seen red
and let that prostitutes light go black
?
i didnt read the paper this morning
Posted in Everyday Life, People, Poetry, Posted by g mcclure, Society, Things on 16 February 2009 - Monday by g mcclureits been a while since last i thought
of that scraggly man on the park bench
huddled under the new york times
that i threw in the garbage yesterday
but i bet you a nickel hes thought of me
