kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com
KG Newman | Poet: April 2014
http://kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com/2014_04_01_archive.html
Thursday, April 24, 2014. Whitney By The Key. Never done cocaine but I listen to UGK on the reg. Never chopped down a tree, I’m all about Earth Day. And combating global warming, but I waste paper. By drawing shitty pines across notebook lines. Before I wad and toss. The company ink is all over my pants. The scars are evident but I wear them like. Chains on a pimp. And I work best when constantly snacking. Some say I don't write what I'm thinking but this is legit. Links to this post. Links to this post.
kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com
KG Newman | Poet: Lapu-Lapu
http://kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com/2011/06/lapu-lapu.html
Friday, June 24, 2011. Through a flaming car wreck. In one burning Jeep. The groundskeeper’s mound. Is impounding with flaming clay. Filing away, without the E string. Miracle diet drugs above. Pregnant mother’s minivan. En route to the capital. All. The clouds, stained with ash,. Chuckle. They say,. 8220;What of it? I write with dried out pens;. 8220;Can’t compete for a penny. With this heat,” EMTs who. Wanted to be firefighters. Tell me. Meanwhile,. His shoes in his anguish. All Hail the .400 Hitter.
kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com
KG Newman | Poet: July 2014
http://kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com/2014_07_01_archive.html
Sunday, July 6, 2014. The veins of the city have been. Pumped full of black powder—. Carbon, sulfur, you in that intoxicating. Blue sundress. From the hotel rooftop. We don’t know how long the show. Will last, and the colors reflecting. In your irises suggest we can write. Our own ending to this thing:. A slow-motion lit fuse. Explosion after. Explosion that we can capture. With our phones and delete or keep. For as short or as long as we please. Links to this post. Links to this post. We Drink A Lot and...
kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com
KG Newman | Poet: Green Lights
http://kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com/2012/03/green-lights.html
Wednesday, March 28, 2012. This is what The Great Gatsby. Life can leave you stranded in some land. Painting rainbows for the rest of your life. The frozen smile poses a problem. Not occasional surges of dopamine, but. Summers on West Egg churned with. The biting wind in Long Island in late fall,. Everything frozen over under a faux sun. The green lights in the hoping man’s eyes. Are the wrong tint for this type of earth. What’s sure is never the smile,. But birth and death— and mostly death. To learn mo...
kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com
KG Newman | Poet: January 2014
http://kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com/2014_01_01_archive.html
Friday, January 31, 2014. My Advice Is All In. A mind abound with lascivious clips, a soul. Stitched from spare parts—this second chance. Is on the house and it may be all you get…. Those long legs will lift you to a place. The aches stripped free of pain—lips traveling and fingertips. Inking identities, through valleys, hidden on an ait. What happens next is maturity—yours, to be blunt. That urge to set clocks five years forward, bad habit. Of taking out the batteries to ruminate on still hands…. Which ...
kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com
KG Newman | Poet: Whitney By The Key
http://kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com/2014/04/whitney-by-key.html
Thursday, April 24, 2014. Whitney By The Key. Never done cocaine but I listen to UGK on the reg. Never chopped down a tree, I’m all about Earth Day. And combating global warming, but I waste paper. By drawing shitty pines across notebook lines. Before I wad and toss. The company ink is all over my pants. The scars are evident but I wear them like. Chains on a pimp. And I work best when constantly snacking. Some say I don't write what I'm thinking but this is legit. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).
kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com
KG Newman | Poet: Fireworks
http://kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com/2014/07/fireworks.html
Sunday, July 6, 2014. The veins of the city have been. Pumped full of black powder—. Carbon, sulfur, you in that intoxicating. Blue sundress. From the hotel rooftop. We don’t know how long the show. Will last, and the colors reflecting. In your irises suggest we can write. Our own ending to this thing:. A slow-motion lit fuse. Explosion after. Explosion that we can capture. With our phones and delete or keep. For as short or as long as we please. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). The Tragedy of Dryness.
kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com
KG Newman | Poet: Even Gisele Isn’t Good Enough
http://kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com/2012/02/even-gisele-isnt-good-enough.html
Monday, February 20, 2012. Even Gisele Isn’t Good Enough. Is what I like to say. About any prospect passing by…. Granted, on the other side. Of the fence, the grass. Probably isn’t greener. But. I’ll still slash my hands. On pointed post tops. Just trying to find out. Anyway, I’ll discard. The perfect piece of fruit. Every day I wander. To supermarkets, uttering. At every blonde,. That strolls by, every day. I long for that spotless apple. And every day I think. I’ve found one. There she is. All work on ...
kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com
KG Newman | Poet: Weltschmerz
http://kinggriffeypoetry.blogspot.com/2014/07/weltschmerz.html
Sunday, July 6, 2014. Strawberries are really roses and armadillos have invaded Miami,. And then there’s this ridiculous notion that luscious green patches of grasses. At office complexes are not to be walked on, only looked at. This is the world we live in—from this cubicle you must Google. Why strawberries are false fruits and how armadillos prove. There’s no such thing as a zero-cost move. You know you want to walk. You shrug off the importance of your current situation in a way that only. All work on...
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