tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26171357239952752172024-03-07T21:40:29.053-08:00Suitcase PoemsG Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.comBlogger257125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-89810583284367756002013-02-11T04:32:00.002-08:002013-02-11T04:32:17.514-08:00As Henry SaidAs Henry said
what could be here
is there to him her
or that dog with a cocked leg
shoulder in oven
white rain layers
I go on
My footsteps tick
and tick
no stop
tock
cider and stock
for the beast
for me
as cornered children
shout and run
skip
kick
slip
playing?...
Our bedroom
now
without the heart I
lay with
without inamorta
Unsterbliche Geliebte
The pillows puffed
Covers stretched to corners
I leave with later
We'll be couvertsG Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-37753126219367079572012-10-28T08:47:00.003-07:002012-10-28T08:47:28.064-07:00Hailstorm in Chalon
breezing outta the upstairs changing room
hair blowing, scented
like a slowed down music video
radio station static
tout droit
wire's in a coeur corner
head hail:
made up
arriving at the station
ax wound weeping
I'll palm the patch
before piscine
a pig (not dio)
a shaved man on a run down road
eating a bunch of grapes
an apple (balled by a melon)
it's obvious
that my feet aren't in politics
unless
your set lips
cause allergies
G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-45153186096847978782012-10-19T02:56:00.000-07:002012-10-19T02:56:43.883-07:00Table For... You?Table for two?<div>No.</div><div>One.</div><div><br /></div><div>One more</div><div>Hit wonder</div><div><br /></div><div>One liners</div><div>Born every minute</div><div><br /></div><div>Une nuit</div><div><br /></div><div>Yeah, one piece</div><div>Suit for sharing</div><div><br /></div><div>One eyed jacks</div><div>And up</div><div>In a million</div><div><br /></div><div>One on one</div><div><br /></div><div>One off</div><div>For all</div><div><br /></div><div>An eye or shoe</div><div>Pair of pearls</div><div><br /></div><div>Where's my shoe?</div><div><br /></div><div>One pound</div><div>Of prickly pears</div><div><br /></div><div>One egg missing</div><div><br /></div><div>A room</div><div>One way</div><div>Cul de sac cunt</div><div><br /></div><div>No return</div><div>1 above</div><div>Above none</div><div>You </div><div>Not some</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-74400882275818839632012-09-30T09:23:00.002-07:002012-09-30T09:23:39.141-07:00ça dépend des goûts<a href="http://">the test subject's testosterone
tested and reported
By a radio reporter
Baubo busted down
a bathroom door
to show us her
with her panties down
the moss missing
on the garden pond
so simply cut this out
and put it with the cache:
a pillow under my head
sit down
hand tying
and not typing up
bad hand writing
(what would Mr.English think?)
pull the top back
put the hood down
and remind me
what i recovered from
there's a crash in a desert
of desserts and stressed recipes
the almost given up going east
vocal stomach song
ass bursting nerves (not on sale in a butcher's display)
toilet pep talks
and I know in advance
this is an advantage i should hold
don't show the cards
a bella figura in blue night
my hands in
my cuffs covering hers
not buzz beyond
content at the joint
the symbol and wrapping
and my craned neck
lips to back to tits
to the barcode butterfly
The most glorious thing I've witnessed
without hallucinating
the firmness and nearness
the adultdress nightdress
tights under top
my tshirt panties
all had to be removed
while i covered up the mind
and towards the end i didn't deter
i kept on
and though she may not have thought that'd be the first thing I'd do
as it's not that often
but it was clear in my cloud head
and that shows an interest
a comfortable side to my patina
and my difference
</a>
G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-28090140259225114152012-09-02T14:28:00.002-07:002012-09-02T14:28:54.607-07:00Sea LegsAs he packed up
Leaving behind remnants and cobwebs
And tenancy dust
We broke this bed:
Support straps snapped
The map of France flopped
Ships in the sea
The legs gave way.
G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-22844464758186495582012-08-04T05:06:00.001-07:002012-08-04T05:06:19.827-07:00Tourists at Petit DejunerAll showered, shitted and shaved
Armpits, pussies, legs
Men in denim
Shorts and shirts
(all with hair)
At 7 a.m there's no one
Younger than me
I'm on concentrated juice
And coffee, no sugar
They stack plates:
Ham, jam, pastries
How saccharine
These couples that have
Curled and cuddled
As I curdle without G
My guarantee
I can't help from looking outside<i>
We get a taxi to the airport
And abandon
</i>We don't book
Or research
We go where we see
A sea from a room
I get up and groom
Clip and nip and lay
On marble
Waiting for a breakfast
Of honey
Ham
and sugar.G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-230528953439147682012-08-01T12:00:00.001-07:002012-08-01T12:00:30.252-07:00LIPSINKINGThese are lyrics to cervelle musique
(avec ou sans capers)
I'm in Seville kicking peeled orange skins
At pigeons that don't know where
Worms wiggle.
My kidless kidneys dance
On the other foot
The white robe worn
Is a hotel bathrobe
My hand in my pocket
Feeds snails named Alanis
and Anaïs
Who else: Henry Miller.
And after
Plucked from the garden
Fucked into a brown bucket
To shit it all out:
A detox for death to be delectable.
My pupils have been lessoned
Regarding this photo of us
It opens my pours
I'd swear on the heart of Christ
If i'd jamais met 23 versions of your shape
And look my search would constantly
Be to try and find a switch to finger
Not a trigger
But you are
A floodlight.G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-22986525751808172802012-06-13T03:32:00.002-07:002012-06-13T03:32:16.361-07:00Licking Out LogarithmYour Da sends you a picture,
Of your camera,
Post quake,
<i>what scale</i>
And I think of
<i>(though you haven't asked)</i>
sniffing the ravine's curve,
diving into you
on the Costeria Amalfitana,
demain demons,
Frizzante bottles
In the fridge of a
Rented room by
a freddo sea as seagulls
shit and scrounge.
The discovered city's clitty,
semi dry holy wine
and cantucci,
Che figa,
the cissy chapel,
the mortadella bella,
lumache l'amore,
the letto macchiato,
meravigiosa meals
In our hotel,
And the headline hangovers
that vanish in fume
lava and ash
As I eat gnocca
for breakfast-
<i>the paper unread,
coffee cold,
the dog huffing,
by the closed door.</i>G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-40686096307615508702012-06-06T09:41:00.002-07:002012-06-06T09:41:55.657-07:00Lean InYou've pondered, that's plunder
Too much thinking,
Thinking 'bout thinking,
Me thinks Meta,
Fuck off you.
A red carpet stroll,
Casual capsule,
Catspulted and crowbarred.
I'm funny too:
Jaded in gaol
Gloves in the toilet bowl
Fingers wrapped
'round cold bars
covered in cocoa.
A jug raised (to us),
With slick sangue of a hare;
My key pulled out of a stomach
And left to be rained on.G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-40734610920405899072012-05-20T05:57:00.000-07:002012-05-20T05:57:07.384-07:00Bukowski, this must have happened to you.And you sit there in the kitchen
low lighting and cigar butts
smoldering and a woman on your lap
and one on the phone in the bathroom
to her dealer and the typewriter
covered with cloth or a bed sheet
when the one from the bathroom returns
she turns the television set on
(bending over you admire the shape of her rear
and she drops an earring and crawls around
so you rise at the sight of her tits)
and you see a cheaply made show
but the volume is down and you see me
on a busted bed with wet red blood
not from a frog
not from a self harm wound
and she's letting out oxygenated laughing
thinking it's cum
but who cums menstrual malade chiens
barking as furniture moves around the womb
(hit the ceiling with a phallic broom)
who cums a city's artificial lights?
I'm not phased by the mania (of course, this feeds a mania)
It's the glory of showering off réglé
at 4 a.m on a Saturday
as the 7 million eggs
you were born with
diminish and soak into
a bed we get back
get back
in to.G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-59766250096926222512012-05-10T03:58:00.000-07:002012-05-10T03:58:02.624-07:00The City Between Her Legs Is Not VeronaOtherwise I'd be <i>leccatura</i>
The same stone already had
By Montague
And the dog would be white
As opposed to
That one that's following me
And sniffing at my crotch
We'd be bronze
With an aura... borealis
Vetivert introvert
Meets a Taurus flower
And like back garden children
Chewing and scratching this été
We bite the ripened apple
On the grassG Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-8904956683430117302012-04-26T06:08:00.001-07:002012-04-26T06:08:16.229-07:00tout ce qui brille n'est pas<i>'Men lie about that Spoonful' Howlin' Wolf</i>
Paillettes faces
from tenants past
in East proper
as this myriad eyed thing
with wings
watched me do things
That were done before
(you know where)
an after a.m lunge
the huddle in underwater
underwear
no prospects to prosper
couldn't sift the sugar
on a full chest
But spoons in that sink
light down
A camera clean up
rying to find
a hole
or a whole window
in a home
for this
frustrating mess
something from
Meet the Applegate's
or another similar
50's horrorG Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-34353823942072705832012-04-20T04:40:00.002-07:002012-04-20T04:40:32.423-07:00Bon voyageRemember rappeler
use the city you live in
as if
you were on holiday-
visit the parks
the theatre
go tour
go ists
debate dates
Call upon the lipstick saint esprit
live cheap
avoid sleep
the stay home
Baby bubble
is not eggs and caviar
cooked by Guérard
cull crap
suck sap
between branches
listen to those
accidental/suicid
écoute to those
who have almost died
and plan on getting into
prescription painkillers
see:
darvon
vicodin
Oxycontin 40
Dilaudid
tramadol
écoute
to vomit choking
carl crack
delirium tremens
loose pubes
hydrocodone headphones
self inflicted insults
overboard verbose overdose
anti depressant presents
b. a. l. - 36%
drown gowns
peeping sills
peered over yards
Seconal supermodels sprouting suggestive schiap nars
Coked out country collisions
Buttes Chaumont birthday boy
benching barbiturates (not dying in Bernett's)
this is an alphabet
autopsy
the report:
possible
Atherosclerosis /aspergers
asphixia onanism.G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-82280438917615654902012-04-16T02:58:00.002-07:002012-04-16T03:16:09.419-07:00drôleWhen one was labelled<br />Funny - see drôle<br />The ingredients<br />Read:<br /><br />Mustard powder 1/2 tsp<br />Salt liberal<br />Pepper to taste<br />A case of Bourgogne Blanc<br />Three caffe corretto's<br />A child's skull<br />Fly's on fishing rods<br />One (unused) copy of Men's World<br />Celine's Diary<br />The gum seat<br />A woman stuck up a tree<br />A handful of stones<br />Tinned Anchovies rinsed<br />Lilliput Capers <br />Chitterlings<br />Flour to dust<br />Butter soft<br /><br />A pan big enough to fit a cupboard cunt.G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-50832804618435399152012-03-30T13:11:00.002-07:002012-03-30T13:26:02.648-07:00ResteAt dinner in another's home<br />Coded in to the reste of Christmas<br /><br />The tenant before hadn't pulled<br />The blinds up for 30 odd years<br /><br />He gave me a stewed lapin head<br />The jaw gave way in my palm<br />I sucked the langue<br /><br />As she bit hers<br />And asked again<br /><br />Où es-tu?<br /><br /><br />Post wine cheminer:<br />The city's seal unglued<br />Spread on the Blvd ClichyG Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-64345385651055588052012-03-20T03:45:00.000-07:002012-03-20T03:47:05.012-07:00De AttraitDown Metro Louvre-Rivoli<br />There's glass benches<br />And up there on hot rue's:<br />Topless drunks<br />Misogynist cabine's<br />Morrison's expatriate hangout<br />Ghost writers drinking from haunted<br />Cocktail glasses at Pont Royal<br />Algerian socks<br />Eyes bar<br />Styrofoam snails<br />The Baci marche where P.P<br />Bought still life apples<br />Beef cheeks lettuce heads and<br />snacks<br />L'hotel where Wilde popped<br />And passed<br />On Mouffetard<br />Ernest got ossified and wrote about men<br />Without women.G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-42375229114505721052012-03-16T02:28:00.001-07:002012-03-19T04:48:16.479-07:00RezoDolled and tuned <br />Check <br />Through a wind<br /> <br /> <br />Bills building unsettled<br />Sheltered I chose<br />Thick sopa and two bottles<br /> <br /> <br />The place had started<br />Saints had already listened<br />To south American rezo's<br /> <br /> <br />But for another's sake<br />They couldn't put<br />That part on a common map<br /> <br /> <br />Two different directions<br />East arrow faltering<br />Before a set<br /> <br /> <br />This was why they thought<br />The world was round...<br /><br />A gate over her décolletage<br />Fitted in fabrics<br />Melody puppetry<br /> <br /> <br />Those cinema scenes<br />Where they don't speak<br />And your head eats itself<br /> <br /> <br />I should of skipped the casting<br />Fired the agent<br />And gone dressed as a dog<br /> <br /> <br />When a chanteuse sees<br />These soft pupils curl<br />In a heavy tête<br /> <br /> <br />They compose.G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-26237715553026760272012-03-04T11:25:00.002-08:002012-03-04T11:28:31.106-08:00Escape Map<span style="font-style:italic;">This was written at the Picasso Musée and was published two years ago.</span> <br /><br /><br />Pablo, when my knife<br />Peels fruit skin,<br />There’s subliminal Spain<br />And Paris before,<br /><br />This century played people.<br />Women,<br />Gathered knocking,<br />For a kiss.<br /><br />We have hands, round heads<br />Busy producing coloured<br />Shapes of <br />deliberated choice.<br /><br /><br /><br />Before lunch,<br />Down Rue des Grands Augustins,<br />I waited where you created,<br />What hangs on Madrid.<br /><br />Tell me, did erotic ombre’s<br />Posses you not going dry?<br /><br />Stuffed strong,<br />Forward desire,<br />Cools by controlling<br />Relief in percentages.G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-88055273331005910822012-02-15T05:04:00.003-08:002012-02-15T05:18:10.013-08:00A HordeA painting is a horde<br />Of destructions<br />Said Pablo Picasso<br /><br />And I stay here with<br />Whore's deconstructing<br />The constructions<br /><br />The cellar door<br />Booted in<br />By an El Paso Jailbird<br />On a large charge<br /><br />Finger finding a switch<br />But no hits<br /><br />Her photoed tits<br />Post shower cop off<br />Hairdryer plugged in<br />Bunched towel <br /><br />The kids back from the monkey run<br />This time I shower<br />And feed them change<br /><br />And from under covers<br />She tells the eldest to straighten<br />The painting<br />Ties shoes<br />Let the hound out<br /><br />From this bathroom window<br />My dog chases 'em<br /><br />She shouts in<br />The cellar's got guests again<br />I know they're back<br /><br />They will chirp<br />Cheep chirrup.G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-31216779212716642062012-02-05T13:13:00.000-08:002012-02-05T13:45:57.486-08:00Padre NuestroDolled and tuned <br />Check<br /><br />Through a wind<br /><br />Bills building unsettled<br />Sheltered I<br />Chose sopa and two bottles<br /><br />The place had started<br />Saints had listened<br />To south American rezo's<br /><br />But for another's sake<br />They couldn't place <br />That part on a common map<br /><br />Two different directions<br />East arrow faltering<br />Before a set<br /><br />This was why they thought<br />The world was round:<br /><br />A gate over her décolletage<br />Fitted in fabrics<br />Melody puppetry<br /><br />Those cinema scenes<br />Where they don't speak<br />And your head eats itself<br /><br />I should of skipped the casting<br />Fired the agent<br />And gone dressed as a dog<br /><br />When a chanteuse sees<br />These soft pupils curl<br />In a heavy tête<br /><br />They compose.G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-40088624232404812312012-02-03T05:15:00.000-08:002012-02-03T05:56:13.381-08:00Laying on hands (Not of)Getting sniffed <br />And seen through glass<br /><br />The bolt<br />Or mad surge<br /><br />Take a stance:<br /><br />Knees on the floor<br />Mains together<br /><br />Virgin Maria?<br />Santo Antonio?<br /><br />The weight of waiting.G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-8702382818512833402012-02-01T15:43:00.000-08:002012-02-01T15:47:48.396-08:00For That YearFitzgerald full stopped at 44<br />With coco covered mains<br /><br />Smudged prints on the Princeton Review-<br /><br />Big Scott got $13.33<br />The year before<br /><br />And Ernie<br />The hardheaded prick<br />Couldn't make it to his wake<br /><br />So Francis Scott<br />In death<br />You received<br />What you asked<br />But couldn't see<br /><br />That one you had thought<br />Had fucked off<br /><br />Fame.G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-38250053897153091932012-01-20T06:39:00.000-08:002012-01-20T06:59:16.633-08:00The rope in my mouthNot the ginger red tom cat<br />Not the railway nazi<br />Or boozy Bardolph's rose nose<br /><br />Not a donor - blood or sperm<br />Organ<br />Related to ripped royalty<br />Reverse to my perversions<br /><br />Not typing in a Cuban bar<br />Renting a shack<br />A capricious dog owner<br /><br />Not knocking over milk glasses<br />Moving to Nassau<br />Penetrating virgin's<br />In their 20's<br /><br />Not a dab hand<br />A silver bullet<br />Accelerating behind the wheel<br />Of a '78<br /><br />Not behind tinted windows<br />Blasting 'The Chronic'<br /><br />Not roped into<br />Fallopian tubes<br />Daytime drinks<br />Doing reps<br />(Lie) <br /><br />Afraid to get laid<br />While hitchiking<br />Jump into a 18ft deep pool<br />(Lie)<br /><br />Not there<br />Respond through text<br />Callus Calls <br /><br />20 or eaten<br />By stomach worms<br /><br />Not eligible<br />or legible <br />Brazen<br />Or at the school gate<br /><br />Not idol<br />or residing in birth<br /><br />Not in pictures<br />or numbers<br />Maybe through<br />medical histoire<br /><br />Not fluent<br />Or what they could<br />Sense.G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-41360438490926321492012-01-15T09:34:00.001-08:002012-01-15T09:34:36.019-08:00BewareThe window boxes of Paris<br /><br />The overwatered soil drops<br /><br />Mashed into rues<br /><br />Topor’s landlady<br /><br />The Metro bums<br /><br />Bats shacked up<br /><br />Under Hôpital Broussais<br /><br />Parle in a guinguette<br /><br />You visit others in air flight<br /><br />And the nouvelle France café<br /><br />Transforms into a noodle bar<br /><br />They don’t want you<br /><br />In the plm hotel<br /><br />And this blvd is part of<br /><br />A Maze.G Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617135723995275217.post-77065885973566147472011-12-21T11:40:00.000-08:002011-12-21T11:48:09.294-08:00Soap Banana CondomsThe skeleton pear<br />Two matches 69<br />An abandoned list (soap banana condoms)<br />Tainted Pastilles <br />Top bottles<br />Lost Anandin (Extra)<br />A festive Robin<br />Rods Cones Double Cones<br />Dim light dollar<br />The strap snap<br />Names of staffG Storeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05402398300456362010noreply@blogger.com0